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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

Spencer pulled out the wrap and opened it under his desk without taking his eyes off the suit in the showroom. He dug his car key in the glistening white powder, bent over, felt the cold metal of the key against his open nostril and blam.

“See anything you like?”

McGrath turned from the Jag to see a slim guy in his mid- to late-thirties looking at him. Slim but not necessarily fit-looking. Good-looking—maybe, maybe a little ragged. Warm smile but a salesman’s warm smile; he could have lost his entire family in a plane crash and he’d still manage that smile.

“Spencer Burnham?”

“Yes, that’s me. Mister . . . ?”

“McGrath. Dominic McGrath.” McGrath leaned in slightly, offering his hand. Spencer shook it. Both gripped firmly.

The two men looked at each other, only one of them aware they had different agendas. Spencer sensed something about this potential buyer though. It was as if McGrath’s eyes just happened to have been resting on the Jag as he waited for Spencer. And now those eyes were on him—alert, mischievous, and all the while pulling in information. And if the smile was genuine, as it appeared to be, it wasn’t diverting one iota of dataflow from those eyes. There was a nonclassic type of handsomeness and a ka-ching of the charisma that often goes with it.

“Beautiful car,” said McGrath.

Spencer was about to launch into his spiel.

“What do you drive, Spencer?”

“Uh, at the moment, the Lotus.”

McGrath nodded. His smile both discomforted Spencer and yet welcomed him into something wayward. It was the smile a teenager got from a teacher who knew what had gone down but was going to make it seem like he didn’t—because he’d done worse.

“Then how about you show me what a Lotus can do?”

Moments later, McGrath was sitting in the passenger seat of the Lotus, engine running and air blasting. As Spencer locked up the doors of the dealership, McGrath opened the car’s glove compartment and rummaged through. He’d seen everything he needed to—school report, hip flask, antidepressants—and closed it before Spencer joined him.

“My receptionist had to go to the dentist,” lied Spencer as he put the bunch of showroom keys in the side pocket of the car door. “You sure you don’t want to drive?”

“I’ll learn more from watching you.”

4

4

Lessons in Spanish