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Back Vortex Save as PDF
Chapters (61)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. Epilogue
  57. Epilogue
  58. Acknowledgments
  59. About the Author
  60. Also by Catherine Coulter
  61. About the Publisher

“Claude, wait with her, I will see what goes on. She is trained, so keep away from her and do not let down your guard. Keep your Beretta pointed at her.”

“Believe me, René, I saw what she could do Monday night. I will not let her close to me. She won’t do anything. Don’t worry.”

Olivia said slowly, “So you were the one I heard speaking English. You were with the Iranian. But you don’t have a French accent.”

Claude took a step back, grinned at her. “Actually, I grew up in Indiana.”

René frowned at him, leaned close to Olivia, murmured in her ear, “Now we find out what this Mike Kingman thinks of you. If he does not give me the flash drive, I will make both of you dead. If he does, well then, we’ll see, won’t we? Claude, shoot her in the leg if she tries anything.” He patted her cheek with his pistol and disappeared into the hemlocks.

44

Kent

Bellevue Hospital

Thursday

Kent couldn’t move, couldn’t feel his body, couldn’t see. Was he blind? Where was he? Were those voices he heard? Yes, a woman’s voice, and two men’s, calm, ordinary voices, workaday voices, like a team, calling out numbers, saying words he didn’t understand. There was something in his throat, a machine hissing in and out, like a bellows. He realized his brain was working even though his body was elsewhere. Should he be afraid? Before he could decide, his thoughts turned fluid, flowed in no particular direction, gently, slowly. He saw his grandmother, Kiki, smiling at him, her gold molar on display. He hoped she was all right, but no, she’d died, hadn’t she? Some time ago? He couldn’t remember how long, not that it mattered. He heard the machine huffing, in and out, in and out, and he let himself fall into the steady rhythm. Everything seemed to soften, as if he were floating on a cloud, content as he drifted. He knew nothing could hurt him here, wherever here was. He wondered if he was Snake, wondered if he’d sink into the cloud or draw his sword. No, he wasn’t Snake, he really wasn’t. He was himself. He heard a man’s urgent voice, “Blood pressure’s dropping!”

He saw Kiki again, on her knees in front of him, pulling his arms through the sleeves of his winter jacket. She smelled like strawberries. She always smelled like strawberries. She kissed him, laughed, kissed him again. He felt the sweetness on his cheek.

Mia

Mia heard a man nearly snarling as she, Tommy, and Juliet approached the surgery waiting room and stopped to listen.

“You’re telling me, Special Agent Sherlock, you were really there, as in right on the spot, and you watched Mr. Kent Harper get shot? The FBI ordered you to be there, watching him?”