Mystery

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By Chris Pavone

From the writer of the New York Times-bestselling and Edgar Award-winning The Expats
 
As sunrise methods in long island, literary agent Isabel Reed is popping the ultimate pages of a mysterious, nameless manuscript, racing throughout the explosive revelations approximately robust humans, in addition to long-hidden secrets and techniques approximately her personal earlier. In Copenhagen, veteran CIA operative Hayden grey, decided that this sweeping tale be buried, is unexpectedly staring down the barrel of an unforeseen gun. And in Zurich, the writer himself is hiding in a shadowy expat lifestyles, attempting to catch up on a lifetime’s worthy of lies and betrayals with ebook of The coincidence, while continually taking a look over his shoulder.

Over the process one lengthy, determined, more and more perilous day, those lives collide because the ebook starts off its risky march towards booklet, towards saving or ruining careers and corporations, putting every little thing at risk—and every body in mortal peril.  the wealthy forged of characters—in publishing and movie, politics and espionage—are all compelled to confront the results in their pursuits, the schisms among their excellent selves and the folks they really became.

The motion rockets round Europe and throughout the US, with an tricky internet of duplicities stretching again a quarter-century to a dismal winding highway in upstate ny, the place the stunning fact concerning the coincidence itself is buried.

Gripping, subtle, layered, and very unlikely to place down, The Accident proves once more that Chris Pavone is a real grasp of suspense.

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He recalls strolling out of the medical institution, a funky crisp day, fallen leaves in every single place, a foreboding kick back within the wind. “Charlie,” he acknowledged, after a ten-minute taxi again to the workplace, a gentle rap on his boss’s door. “I’m in poor health. ” He’d been removing extra weight all autumn, fifteen kilos. He was once faded and gaunt, his fits placing off him like a child making an attempt on his father’s outfits within the secrecy of an empty apartment, the fogeys at paintings, 4 o’clock on a lonely bored weekday afternoon. “Sorry to listen to it, Dave. Take for all time you wish. ” “No, Charlie, you don’t comprehend. ” Dave close the door in the back of him, the loud din of the large busy place of work immediately disappearing right into a low heritage hum. “It’s now not that i've got a chilly. Or shingles. ” He’d been expecting this dialog for a very long time, training within the reflect, attempting to no longer sound rehearsed, not to glance disingenuous. there has been much at stake, and it wasn’t effortless. “I’m loss of life, Charlie. ” Charlie raised his eyebrows, a question, yet no longer loads of emotion. Ever considering the fact that their dialog concerning the Finnish debacle, Dave had felt a gulf becoming among them, a frostiness. whatever no longer assorted to the tip of his marriage. “Stage-four melanoma. ” “I’m so sorry, Dave. That’s … terrible. ” Charlie stood up, walked round his table. He opened his palms, they usually shared a quick, awkward include. “How lengthy? ” Dave shrugged. He used to be ready to supply a plethora of information, yet because it grew to become it out he didn’t have to. He appeared down at his toes, and spotted that his correct shoelace was once nearly solely untied. yet now would’ve been a foul time to mend it. “I’m so, so sorry. ” after which there didn’t appear to be something left to assert. He took a DC taxi to the jam-packed airport, the chaotic throng and din of the busiest commute day of the 12 months, the airplanes and -port packed to bursting ability, tens of millions of individuals relocating between each other in oblivious isolation, from check-in to fast-food to restroom to gate, the place the blokes with gazillions of frequent-flyer miles and two-brass-buttoned blazers swaggered as much as the counter to call for improvements or bulkhead seats or no matter what preferential therapy they inspiration they have been entitled to by means of advantage of being men who spend loads of time on airplanes. Then flying over the grey denuded panorama, the factories alongside the rivers belching white plumes of noxious fuel, the recent Jersey Turnpike taking a look like a modern day nice Wall, the green-gray marsh of the Meadowlands giving method to the brown-gray constructions of Jersey urban and Hoboken after which the colossal blue-gray of the Hudson River, skirting over the green-gray Statue of Liberty and flying up the size of the gray-gray island, and he might pinpoint genuine constructions the place he’d lived, then veering over the East River and looking out off to the South Bronx, its slummy blight and the pot-holed truck-laden parkway and the big cubes of warehouses, the bombed-out constructions and vacant plenty affected by the torched shells of stolen autos and deserted vehicles, losing precipitously over All within the Family–style Queens after which the terrifyingly shut serpentine spit of the mouth of the ny Sound, screeching onto l. a. Guardia’s tarmac with a short, alarming bump.

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