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Escape Clause

A Virgil Flowers Novel

Virgil Flowers Novel Band 9

John Sandford

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  • Sandford, J: Escape Clause

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Beschreibung

Virgil Flowers faces double trouble in this exceptional thriller in the #1 New York Times-bestselling series

Whenever you hear the sky rumble, that usually means a storm. In Virgil Flowers' case, make that two.

The first comes from, of all places, the Minnesota zoo. Two large Siberian tigers have vanished from their cage, and authorities are very concerned that they've been stolen for their organs. Traditional Chinese medicine prizes their parts for home remedies, and people will do extreme things to get-and keep-what they need. As Detective Flowers of the Minnesota Bureau of Apprehension is about to find out.

Then there's the homefront. Virgil's relationship with his girlfriend Frankie has been getting kind of serious, but when Frankie's sister, Sparkle, moves in for the summer, things get a lot more complicated. Sparkle has a roving eye, and it's fixed right on Virgil.

Forget a storm-this one's a tornado.

PRAISE FOR THE VIRGIL FLOWERS SERIES

"Another brainy thriller from a prolific author, Deadline fulfills readers' expectations of Sandford's fiction: tense, smart and character-driven."-Richmond Times-Dispatch

"Sandford's best Flowers book to date. This book is the most fun I have had reading in a long time."-The Huffington Post

"The biggest joys of this series are Flowers himself (his boss is Lucas Davenport from Sandford's Prey novels), the case of eccentric supporting characters, and the humorous dialogue."-Shelf Awareness

"Pure reading pleasure."-Booklist

"Sandford keeps one last surprise up his sleeve, and it's a doozy. Exhilaratingly professional work by both Virgil and his creator."-Kirkus Reviews

"Rich characters [and] the descriptions of small-town life, politics and corruption and the concurrent trails of action make for a fast and entertaining read."-Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

John Sandford is the pseudonym for Pulitzer Prize
winning journalist John Camp. He is the #1
New York Times bestselling author of the Prey series featuring Lucas Davenport, the Kidd series, the Virgil Flowers series, three YA novels coauthored with his wife, Michele Cook, and three other books, most recently 
Saturn Run.

Produktdetails

Einband Taschenbuch
Seitenzahl 496
Erscheinungsdatum 26.09.2017
Sprache Englisch
ISBN 978-0-425-27622-8
Verlag Penguin US
Maße (L/B/H) 19/10.8/3 cm
Gewicht 266 g

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  • Chapter One

    Peck popped a Xanax, screwed the cap back on the pill tube, peered over the top of the bush and through the chain link fence, and in a hoarse whisper, asked, "You see the other one?"
    The big man with the rifle whispered, "Right by that tree, above the first one. She's looking down at him."
    "Get her."
    The big man rested the muzzle of the rifle in the V of one of the chain links, pulled the trigger: the rifle made a "pop" sound, not much louder than a handclap. They waited, staring into the darkness, then Peck said, "Ah, you dumb shit, you missed her. You missed her. She should be down, but she's not. She's moving."
    "Might have hit that brush, deflected the shot..."
    "She's moving out in the open. Reload," Peck said.
    "I'm doing it, get off my back, will ya?"
    "Can you see her now?" Peck asked. "She's getting curious about why the guy's just lying there."
    Pop.
    "Got her. Saw it hit," the big man said.
    "Sure she's down? We don't want to make a mistake."
    "She's going down now..." the big man whispered, "I'm pretty sure."
    Peck could smell the nicotine and tar on the other man's breath. The big guy was addicted to Akhtamar Black Flames, and almost always had one stuck to his lower lip; but not now. Peck reached out and slapped him on the back of the head and said, "I don't want to hear that pretty sure. You know what happens if you're wrong? We're dead men."
    "You fuckin' slap me again and I'll stick the gun butt up your ass and twist it sideways."
    A small man, crouched on the other side of the rifleman, "I saw them get hit. I saw it, man. Both of them. But who knows if it was enough?"
    They all went silent for a moment, squinting into the dark. Two bodies lay in the short grass, unmoving. The fence was twenty feet high and stouter than a normal chain link; a prison fence. With no sign of movement on the other side, Peck said, "Hamlet: cut the fence."
    "What if they're faking?" The small guy had half-circles under his eyes, so dark they looked like broken blue poker chips.
    "You're the one who said they got hit," Peck said. The soapy touch of Xanax was slipping into his brain.
    The small guy said, "Maybe we oughta split. I'm not feeling so sure about this."
    "We're here. It's done. Cut the fuckin' fence," Peck said.

    Hamlet's side-cutters made a grunt sound as he snipped each piece of wire. Grunt-grunt-grunt. They'd come well-equipped: they wore rubber kitchen gloves and black clothing and trucker hats and, in addition to the gun, had brought a roll of black duct tape they'd use to put the fence back together when they left.
    Hamlet was cutting a wide oval in the fence, leaving it hinged on one side. He'd gotten halfway around the oval when the big man, Hayk, hissed and touched his brother's arm and whispered, "Someone's coming."
    They sank into the brush and Hayk moved the muzzle of the rifle around until it pointed out at the perimeter road. Twenty seconds later, a man in a gray uniform ambled along the road, looking at nothing in particular, talking to himself.
    When he was directly opposite them, forty feet away, they heard him say, "I told him not to give her the money. She'll blow it on herself. That's what she'll do, and you know it. It won't get to your mom. She doesn't care about your mom..."
    Peck realized that the security guard was wearing an ear piece and was talking into a cell phone. He lost the thread of what the man was saying as he disappeared around the curve of the frontage road. When the guard was well out of earshot, Hamlet whispered, "I think he had a gun."
    "No, he didn't - I checked that out,