Reckless. Andrew Gross

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Название Reckless
Автор произведения Andrew Gross
Жанр Зарубежные детективы
Серия
Издательство Зарубежные детективы
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780007351848



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       Chapter Fifty-one

       Chapter Fifty-two

       Chapter Fifty-three

       Chapter Fifty-four

       Chapter Fifty-five

       Chapter Fifty-six

       Chapter Fifty-seven

       Chapter Fifty-eight

       Chapter Fifty-nine

       Chapter Sixty

       Chapter Sixty-one

       Chapter Sixty-two

       Chapter Sixty-three

       Chapter Sixty-four

       Part Four

       Chapter Sixty-five

       Chapter Sixty-six

       Chapter Sixty-seven

       Chapter Sixty-eight

       Chapter Sixty-nine

       Chapter Seventy

       Chapter Seventy-one

       Chapter Seventy-two

       Chapter Seventy-three

       Chapter Seventy-four

       Part Five

       Chapter Seventy-five

       Chapter Seventy-six

       Chapter Seventy-seven

       Chapter Seventy-eight

       Chapter Seventy-nine

       Chapter Eighty

       Chapter Eighty-one

       Chapter Eighty-two

       Chapter Eighty-three

       Chapter Eighty-four

       Chapter Eighty-five

       Chapter Eighty-six

       Chapter Eighty-seven

       Chapter Eighty-eight

       Chapter Eighty-nine

       Chapter Ninety

       Part Six

       Chapter Ninety-one

       Chapter Ninety-two

       Epilogue

       Acknowledgments

       Novels by Andrew Gross and James Patterson

       Also available by Andrew Gross:

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

       Prologue

      London.

       “Beep, beep! Beep, beep!”

      Amir, “Marty” al-Bashir’s six-year-old son, raced his motorized Formula One model around the dining room table, almost crashing it into Anna, the Lebanese housemaid, as she brought out their Sunday lunch of flatbread and spiced lamb.

      “Amir, watch out!” his mom, Sheera, yelled. “You’ll run Anna over. Marty, is it not possible for you to tell your son to stop?”

      “Amir, listen to your mother,” Marty called from the den, distracted. He and his older son, Ghassan—they called him Gary—were crouched in front of the wide-screen TV in the midst of a crucial football match. Manchester United versus Chelsea. The match was scoreless with only seconds remaining in the first half, and Man U was his son’s favorite team—they had just acquired Antonio Valencia, his favorite winger and the hottest foot in the game.

      “Oh, no, look!” Gary shouted as Marty focused back on the screen. A Chelsea attacker had curled a thirty-meter beauty just inside the left post, an inch beyond the Manchester goalie’s outstretched dive.

      “Damn, now look what you’ve made me miss, Sheera,” Marty groaned, deflated, “a goal!”

      “A goal, big deal. Your son is driving that thing around the house like Jenson Button. Amir, listen…” Sheera’s voice grew firm. “If you don’t stop this instant, you can forget about going to Universal Studios when we are in L.A. Do you hear?

      As if on autopilot, the model race car came to a stop. From the floor, Amir caught his father’s amused gaze and grinned sheepishly. “Yes, I hear, mama.”

      “Come on, boys, your mom’s gone to a lot of trouble for us. Let’s eat.” Marty rose and the family drew chairs around the sleek van der Rohe table in the stylishly decorated town house.

      Outside, the view from