Hammer’s new driver, twitching the wheel, didn’t seem to mind—the lanes were a loose guide, and overtaking a lazy drift across and a lazier drifting back. They spent half their time on the white line. But Hammer saw no point in protesting. As a taxi driver in Istanbul had once explained to him, i...
CYRUS MEHR WAS BURIED IN RICHMOND, where he had lived with his wife and his sons in a house that looked out onto the green. Their number, Webster was almost sorry to discover, was in the telephone directory. The articles published after his death had reported only that Meh...
Ikertu knew where he was, they knew where he’d been, and now they were calling him. Perhaps they could tell him what was going to happen to him. He wanted badly to know. What a strange business Webster’s was. The Cayman police he could understand. They had a purpose. But what sort of a person did...