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182 pages

English

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A WORLD IN TURMOIL

In the wake of al-Qaeda's catastrophic attacks, western democracies scramble to meet a deadly new threat...

A LIFE IN TURMOIL

For legal secretary Grace Palliser, the war on terror is just background noise. Twenty-four years ago, her father shot her mother and then killed himself. Today, Grace's life is a torment of nightmares, drug addiction, and custody fights over her daughter.

Being framed for murder is just about the last thing Grace Palliser needs...

But her accidental discovery of a vast international fraud triggers a cascade of terrifying events. Within days, Grace is running for her life, hunted by both the Canadian police and the American FBI. She flees across the continent in a desperate search for the evidence that will clear her.

Hot on her trail is a corrupt former cop with a simple assignment...

... to kill Grace Palliser.

Sujets

Thrillers

Fiction

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Publié par	eBookIt.com
Date de parution	25 mars 2012
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781456608064
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Flight Risks

Douglas Schofield

Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
http://www.eBookIt.com

ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-0806-4

Copyright © Douglas Schofield 2010

The right of Douglas Schofield to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

Cover by Robert Hammond

Douglas Schofield is a Canadian-trained lawyer. He currently holds the position of Assistant Solicitor General with the Cayman Islands Government. He makes his home on Grand Cayman with his wife Melody, and Juno, their highly intelligent talking cat.

Praise for Flight Risks

“Flight Risks is a fast-paced, snappy thriller that hurtles through the worlds of law, finance, politics and family. ... How Schofield winds everything together is marvellous. He keeps readers enthralled in the chase by developing Grace as an enormously resourceful and courageous figure, whose primary goal is to get her daughter back.”
– Victoria Times-Colonist

“I spend most of my time reading screenplays, and I very seldom take the time to read novels. But this novel is an exception. The way Mr Schofield writes is refreshing. His choice of words... the way he uses words... just astonishes me. I kept re-reading sentences just to enjoy them. And what a fabulous story! When I had to put the book down, I couldn't wait to get back to it. It kept me awake at night. I don't like using the word "fantastic" - it's so overused - but this really is a fantastic novel!”
- Graham Greene, film and TV actor
Oscar Nominee, Best Supporting Actor, Dances With Wolves

“Sadly, but completely satisfied, I finished reading Flight Risks . I arrived on the set of Diary of a Wimpy Kid two hours before my call time. I wanted to be alone without any interruptions and just sit down with all the characters in the novel. What a wonderful and exciting story! I just could not wait to pick up the book to continue on from where I left off. What a ride!”
- Alf Humphreys, film and TV actor

“My heart was racing from start to finish with no let up in sight. If I have one criticism of the author is that he is relentless in keeping me on the edge of my seat and unable to sleep.”
- Christopher Dalton, film producer & author

“There are some pretty tough situations here, but everything is believable and real, especially the dialogue, at which, I feel, this author excels.”
- Tricia Heighway, author

“Schofield's easy and simple style of writing brings such vividness to his characters, scenes, the action, and the suspense and does not get in the way of his story's breakneck speed. And best of all, he skilfully ties up the entire story in the final chapter with an ending that took this reader completely by surprise.”
- Tom Kovacs, film actor and musician

“Flight Risks is an accomplished novel with a little bit of everything you fancy – mystery, murder, mayhem, sprinkled judiciously with a smattering of sex. Well-researched facts flavour the story instead of overpowering it, and the twist at the end will take any reader by surprise. The perfect book to take your mind off the dreary summer, it will captivate your imagination and never let go.”
- Elise Hattersley, literary editor

For My Sweet Melody

AUTHOR’S FOREWORD
It will come as no surprise to the reader that Flight Risks is a work of fiction. But beyond the usual disclaimer about any similarity between the novel’s characters and real persons being purely coincidental, another point should be clearly understood. Many novelists writing about international financial skulduggery seem unable to resist resorting to the facile device of ‘secret bank accounts’ in the Cayman Islands. This is pure mythology. In fact, the Cayman Islands’ anti-money-laundering regulations are far more rigorous – and far more vigilantly enforced – than those of many ‘onshore’ jurisdictions. Anyone who doubts this statement should try opening a bank account in the Cayman Islands.

PROLOGUE
Dawn.
A late model Grand Am sped along the Interstate. On either side of the dual ribbons of asphalt, a sere, bone-dry landscape sifted past. Flat. Unchanging. Mind-numbing.
In the car, five dark-eyed young men sat erect, staring ahead at a dramatic city skyline, starkly silhouetted against an opalescent sky.
Each man was silent. Each man was eerily still. Each man’s face was freshly shaven, the skin of his cheeks shiny and taut.
Flickering taillights signalled congestion ahead. The inside lane – the lane reserved for high-occupancy vehicles – appeared clear. The front passenger checked his watch. He muttered to the driver in a foreign language.
The car slipped left and accelerated, speeding past slower traffic.
The car closed on a freightliner in the neighbouring lane. Its long trailer was laden with a lopsided load of heavy steel pipe. The transport drifted left, straddling the two lanes. The car’s driver muttered a curse. He swerved to the right, changing lanes to pass.
On the trailer, a wide strap restraining the rear of the load suddenly parted with a report as loud as a cannon. The load abruptly shifted, pipe ends splaying.
A horrifying chain reaction of failure followed, as a second strap let go and, with a shriek of grinding metal, tons of pipe rolled off the trailer.
The truck driver stood on his brakes. The huge rig jack-knifed, taking out a line of cars in a roar of demolition, and came to rest lying on its side on the highway median.
The Grand Am lay under the load of pipe. Crushed.
A single length of pipe flexed rhythmically, one end tapping on the pavement.
Tapping . . . tapping . . .

PART I: BRITISH COLUMBIA; SEPTEMBER 28 – OCTOBER 12

ONE
By the time Grace Palliser pulled her car into her ex-husband’s driveway, she’d worked herself into a state of nerve-wracked nausea. It was only the prospect of a few days alone with Shy that got her out of her car and onto the front walkway.
Brent’s pickup wasn’t parked in its usual spot under the old Garry oak, which was something of a relief. The New Brent was self-righteous and judgmental, constantly spouting memorised psychobabble he’d picked up from his live-in girlfriend. The New Brent had forgotten the Old Brent.
Grace hadn’t.
Grace climbed the steps and tapped on the door, hoping it would be Shy who answered.
Immediately, the door swung open.
Bad luck. The bitch was waiting.
Hilary Holt’s blonde-streaked hair was pulled straight back and secured with an alligator clip. The tight hairline gave her thin face a permanent look of sanctimonious severity.
Maybe she thinks she looks elegant.
Grace noticed with satisfaction a few grey roots lining the woman’s brow.
Hilary hadn’t looked like this at the hearing. When her name was paged, she’d made an entrance through the courtroom doors like a daytime television personality, hair curled and bouncing, cocooned in an earth-tone mohair sweater and pleated skirt. The sweater had been carefully chosen – loose enough not to look sluttish, tight enough to highlight her well-formed breasts. The overall effect was that of a warm and loving woman, comforting to every weeping child who had ever skinned a knee.
By the time Hilary Holt left the witness box, the presiding judge’s face had been alight with admiration.
“Oh, it’s you.” Hilary pretended surprise, as if she hadn’t expected Grace to come. “She’s almost ready. She’s running a bit late because she didn’t tidy her room. Brent is very insistent about that.”
Really? That’s new.
Hilary’s tone made it clear that she was enjoying her new position. “Just give us a moment, please.”
Grace suppressed the urge to punch her in the face.
Hilary turned and walked off toward the back of the house, leaving Grace seething on the porch.
Her ass jiggles.
Grace savoured a moment of immature pleasure.
She felt better when she heard the familiar thumping of small feet in the hallway. Shy materialised around the corner and launched herself at her mother.
“Mommy! You’re here!”
Grace opened her arms. She enveloped her little girl, inhaling the scent of her hair and sweet cream skin. She forced back sudden tears. Hilary reappeared and stood a few feet inside the door. Her face wore a faint smirk.
Grace stood up. Shy’s fingers clutched possessively at the sleeve of her jacket.
Hilary held out a bulging Winnie-the-Pooh backpack. “Everything she’ll need. Clean clothes. Rain slicker. Some Merry Berry drinks boxes. And Blackie. She can’t sleep without Blackie.”
Shy’s stuffed poodle. She’d had it since she was ten months old.
Grace saw red. She clenched her fists. “How many children have you had, Hilary?” she hissed.
“None,” the woman replied warily.
“And how long have you lived with Brent?”
“Eighteen months – you know that.”
“And Brent has had primary custody of Shy for, what, five weeks?”
“Yes.”
“Right!” Grace raised her voice. “So don’t try to tell me how to take care of my daughter! You sound ridiculous!”
“Mommy!” Shy cried, tugging on her sleeve. “Don’t argue, Mommy!”
“You’re right, honey. Let’s get going.”
Grace grabbed the backpack from the woman, who flinched as if she expected to be slapped. She took Shy’s hand and started down the steps.
“The court order says Sunday at eight!” Hilary called after her angrily. “Have her back on time! And if we hear about any medication problems, we’ll go back to the judge!”
She slammed the door.
That went well.
Grace strapped Shy into the middle of the back seat.