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Chapters (57)
  1. Welcome to the Game
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraphs
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. Six months later . . .
  56. Acknowledgments
  57. Back Cover

Denny waited to see any movement. He was pretty confident the guy was gone seeing as he’d just had a face full of forty caliber. Denny was pretty stoked. For years, he’d been kept on the sidelines. Then he’d been given the Chris cleanup mission. That had been his baby. He’d been all revved up to clean that apartment so good it would be like no one had ever lived there. But it had been taken away from him at the last moment.

Then this had come up. He had a name and address and it needed to happen quick. And then he had to trash the place, so it looked like a B and E gone wrong. And trashing a place was so much easier than wiping one clean.

The wife of the guy he’d just whacked was in the living room. Two holes in her tits. One dead kid upstairs. The other was out. Kids could be conscience kickers, but this job was worth fifty grand.

On his way . . .

As McGrath pulled out of the parking structure and joined the flow of traffic on Lafayette, he felt like he’d dodged a bullet. And the way things were looking, it would be the last he’d have to dodge. So it seemed kind of appropriate that he’d taken the necessary actions himself rather than delegating.

A national guard truck passed by in the opposite direction and he thought back to his decision to turn down an army commission. That was always his litmus test on how well things were going. Right now, it felt like the decision had been a mighty good call. For one thing, he was now retired, as of about ten minutes ago. Not many could do that before sixty. Not in style anyway.

Back in the parking structure, one of several lesser-used facilities in southeast Detroit, down in the bottom levels where the lighting wasn’t maintained so well, a Porsche sat in darkness. It wouldn’t see the roads anytime soon. Cars that were crime scenes tended to be impounded for a while. And this girl would need work before anyone ponied up the payola for her. The interior was splashed to hell with blood that used to belong to the guy now taking a dirt nap at the wheel. He certainly wouldn’t be cutting a deal anytime soon. A thorough job done by a thorough man. Loose ends all tied up.

49

49

Cities of the Dead

Three thousand feet up in the Taurus Mountains of Southern Turkey, a man sat in an ancient amphitheater. The theater was set in a natural bowl formed by the mountaintop and offered mesmerizing views of the Mediterranean coastline.