The plane touched down at London City Airport shortly before seven p.m. local time. It wasn’t a commercial airliner but a private charter jet. It was a Gulfstream G550, capable of seating up to nineteen people. Tonight it carried eight passengers. All men. The cabin crew, more accustomed to servi...
The Channel 11 general assignments reporter left message after message for every phone number Clarkston left her while he enjoyed a beautiful Sunday at the lake or wherever he was. She couldn’t find Jackson Stone or his cell number, just an email address for his office. Patrick Stone’s voicemail ...
Xavier Callo sat with his shoulders hunched up and his arms tightly folded across his chest, hands buried beneath his armpits. It was Blout’s fault; he smoked roll-ups as he drove, keeping his window down so the smoke drifted outside. The incoming draught flowed straight over Callo. His captors h...
The hinges made a quiet squeal of resistance. Twilight filtered through the blinds covering a small window on the wall to his right, perpendicular to the door, and illuminated a space just long enough to fit a bath along the wall opposite the window, and a pedestal washbasin and toilet opposite t...
It was open twenty-four hours a day, which meant Victor could use it in the middle of the night when there were no other guests around. Beneath a high ceiling the room was fitted with rows of exercise bikes, cross trainers, treadmills, step machines and rowing machines that occupied about three-q...