Proctor remained silent. There would be an opportunity to reverse the situation; there was always an opportunity. He only had to think.
“I’ve been observing the family manor for some time now. The man of the house is away — permanently, it would seem. It’s as depressing as a tomb. You might as well all be wearing crepe.”
Proctor’s mind raced through various scenarios. He must pick one and execute it. He needed time, just a little time, a few seconds at most…
“Not in the mood for a chat? Just as well. I have a great many things to do, and so I bid you:
As he felt the plunger slide home, Proctor realized his time was up — and that, to his vast surprise, he had failed.
About the Authors
The thrillers of DOUGLAS PRESTON and LINCOLN CHILD “stand head and shoulders above their rivals” (
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