Dead Edge: the gripping political thriller for fans of Lee Child. Jack Ford

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Dead Edge: the gripping political thriller for fans of Lee Child - Jack  Ford


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WASHINGTON, D.C.

       USA

       22

      c6 bc6

      It wouldn’t have been a house he would ever have chosen to live in. Not under any circumstances. But as Cooper dried his face in the cream and gold secocnd floor bathroom, he couldn’t deny that 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue felt real homely. Which was strange, considering.

      Cooper didn’t bother to look in the mirror. What was there to look at? He knew his hair was on the top of his head. He knew his face held his nose. He knew he ought to get a shave. Anything else, he didn’t need to know. Not the bloodshot eyes. Not the fading red and yellow bruises which made his skin look like the setting of the sun.

      He let out a long sigh. He slipped his hand deep into the pocket of the well-worn jeans he’d gotten out from the back of his closet, and then like a high voltage shockwave, it hit him. Jolted. Sending him spinning. He’d forgotten it was there. The pills… The pills… The OxyContin he was trying to part ways with, but which never seemed to want to part ways with him.

      Caressing the roundness. The smooth hard shape. Cooper twirled it over, over and through, between the gaps of his fingers. Welcoming it like an old friend. And then he stopped. Stared at himself in the mirror. Seeing but not feeling.

      He watched this stranger in the mirror, the way their mouth blew out their breath. The way they quickly sucked back the air.

      Chest out.

      Chest in.

      Then he watched their hand slowly pull the pills out of their pocket and heard them say, ‘So what do you say, Cooper? What’s it going to be? Which way you going to choose this time?’

      He turned away before he heard the reply, popping the pill into his mouth as he exited the bathroom to walk along the hallway, forcing his mind to think of nothing but the idea of having nothing to think of.

      ‘Dude! Seriously! How long does it take a guy to use the bathroom? Black Ops waits for no man.’ Jackson Woods grinned, gesturing Cooper to hurry back to the private sitting room and the abandoned game.

      He winked at Jackson, saying nothing as he tried to ignore – as he always did – the thick, raised scar running down Jackson’s forehead. The result, as well a constant reminder, of what had happened that day on the yacht all those years ago.

      ‘Coop! Hey!’

      Hearing the voice behind him, Cooper span round on the heel of his boot, feeling it sink into the cream, deep-pile carpet.

      ‘Hey, John, how’s it going?’

      President Woods tilted his head. ‘Maybe it’s going better than it is with you.’

      Half smile. Almost. Cooper said, ‘You think?’

      ‘Can we talk, Coop?’

      ‘I thought that’s what we were doing.’

      Woods stepped in. Head still tilted. ‘Jackson, can you give us a minute?’

      Hating the tension but desperate to break it, Jackson tried to make light. ‘Oh come on, Dad, not now! I’m about to totally annihilate Coop. I’m on a kill-streak and I’m feeling lucky.’

      Woods, not taking his eyes off Cooper, spoke to his son with an inflexibility. ‘Jackson, I said I need a minute.’

      Without another word, Jackson slipped back into the sitting room, gently closing the door behind him, leaving the two men facing off in the hallway.

      ‘Why do you make it so difficult all the time, Coop?’

      Wanting to feel the buzz of the pill begin – desperate to – Cooper pulled back. Away from the smell of expensive cologne. Away from the perfectly smooth-shaven face only inches away. ‘Listen, John, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

      ‘That’s why we need to talk.’

      ‘No. That’s why you need to talk. I’m fine.’

      ‘Really? You don’t look it.’

      ‘I know, I look like shit. Now tell me something I don’t know.’

      Woods wiped his hand down his chin. Keeping his temper. Keeping his mouth from saying anything he’d later regret. Didn’t work. ‘Cut the crap, Coop. I heard about everything that went down. You could’ve been looking at a long time in a jailhouse.’

      ‘And how’s that?’

      Woods’ voice had raised. Pulled himself together. Spoke in a pissed hush. ‘How’s that? Am I missing something here? You need me to jog your memory?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Grand theft auto, aggravated motor vehicle theft in the first degree…’

      ‘Be my guest, why don’t you? I mean, who am I to say no?’

      ‘…Reckless driving, exhibition of speed, vagrancy…’

      ‘Leave vagrancy out of it… Have you finished now, John? Because I hear an Xbox calling my name.’

      ‘Where the hell do you get off being so casual about it?’

      ‘I don’t mean to be rude here, but I’m trying to figure out quite what it has to do with you, John.’

      Woods felt the pulse in his molar begin to throb. ‘You wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for me. I called in some favors.’

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