A Parker Novel
Keegan was nailed to the wall. His naked body had been cigarette-burned and scratched with a knife-tip, but it was probably the bleeding around the nails in his forearms that had killed him. He looked shriveled and small hanging there, his feet crumpled against the floor beneath him.
Keegan was a drinker who liked isolation, so there’d been no need to gag him. This Minnesota farmhouse surrounded by dairy grazing land was half a mile from the nearest neighbor. He could be left to either scream or tell the people torturing him what they wanted to know.
The concert box office heist had been perfectly planned and executed; Parker had handled it neat and clean. He had money for a while now; he could take some time off, join Claire in the country, plan another job at his leisure.
But then the phone calls came. One by one, Parker’s associates on the heist were being brutally murdered. Parker was clearly next on the list, but he had no intention of waiting on his executioners. If they thought so, they were in for a rude surprise…
– From the back cover of the Berkley Medallion edition (USA, 1974)