скачать книгу бесплатно
Sidney Sheldon & Tilly Bagshawe 3-Book Collection: After the Darkness, Mistress of the Game, Angel of the Dark
Sidney Sheldon
Tilly Bagshawe
The master storyteller’s legacy continues…Glamour and suspense in the bestselling Sidney Sheldon novels from the international superstar Tilly Bagshawe.Includes the spellbinding sequel to Sidney Sheldon’s MASTER OF THE GAMESIDNEY SHELDON’S AFTER THE DARKNESSGrace Brookstein is the beautiful, young, and naive wife of financial superstar, Leonard Brookstein. She seems to live a charmed life, but in 2009, the US stock market goes into a terrifying freefall, and the public want someone to blame.Bu Grace is oblivious and seemingly unscathed, until the death of Lenny in a tragic ‘accident’ forces her to face reality. His financial affairs unravel, revealing expensive crimes, and now Grace is in the frame…SIDNEY SHELDON’S MISTRESS OF THE GAMEIt began with Jamie MacGregor, stealing diamonds in Africa. It continued with his daughter, the powerful Kate Blackwell, who grew her father’s company into a world wide conglomerate. Now the story passes to the next generation.Picking up exactly where Sidney Sheldon’s bestselling MASTER OF THE GAME finished, MISTRESS OF THE GAME follows the Blackwell family as they love, lose, scheme and murder through the 1980s up until the present day.Heart–stopping and glamorous, tense and provocative, Mistress of the Game is the sequel that Sheldon fans have been waiting for…SIDNEY SHELDON’S ANGEL OF THE DARKAn elusive and shadowy killer is on the prowl, codenamed the Angel of Death.When an elderly multimillionaire is found brutally murdered in Hollywood, and his young wife raped and beaten, the police assume the motive is robbery.A decade later, in different cities around the globe – St Tropez, London and Hong Kong – three almost identical killings take place within 5 years of each other. In all cases the victim is male, wealthy, elderly and newly married, and his wife is found at the scene either raped or assaulted.It soon becomes clear that this is one killer.Codenamed Angel of Death by the police, is she avenging some long-forgotten misdeed, or does she have other motives? Who will be her next victim, and how can the Angel of Death be prevented from striking again?
Sidney Sheldon’s
After the Darkness, Mistress of the Game and Angel of the Dark
TILLY BAGSHAWE
Contents
Cover (#u0314ea29-879e-5227-b2fd-bf2a5575e99d)
Title Page (#ued594290-ba10-57bc-8b85-9061b5b6ab11)
After the Darkness (#uf91d2718-25fe-5362-9db4-8ea8872a948a)
Mistress of the Game (#u1a401a2e-a208-5319-95b2-ec37ef3dd5e3)
Angel of the Dark (#u5922e640-c0c3-5690-97c2-b24e59a861b3)
Keep Reading (#uba19cfe6-446e-544a-b263-276bdacbb661)
About the Authors (#u05f424c3-5261-58d0-bbd0-9ac623f8b49c)
Also by the Authors (#u786139d4-6308-5907-a05f-7998a046a991)
Copyright (#u2fe4649d-4313-54e1-b192-0518a54f03a2)
About the Publisher (#uf00878d1-c049-5ce7-9c7b-21ccd5739d51)
(#ulink_7b09d11d-da9c-52ac-9018-e3e83e7bc551)
Sidney Sheldon’s
After the Darkness
TILLY BAGSHAWE
Dedication (#ulink_e6c634d3-d1dc-535c-bfcc-7612bdfbf28b)
For Kerstin and Louis Sparr, with love.
Epigraph (#ulink_32984ac6-466f-5f93-b289-3fd0bda45267)
Greed is right.Greed works.Greed clarifies, cuts through, and capturesthe essence of the evolutionary spirit.Greed, in all of its forms – greed for life, for money,for love, for knowledge – has marked theupward surge of mankind.
—Gordon Gekko, in Wall Street, 1987
Contents
Cover (#uf91d2718-25fe-5362-9db4-8ea8872a948a)
Title Page (#u5bbf95e4-cc92-5eb3-985a-619f021f4786)
Dedication (#u0f370204-8765-5638-ba85-73d419a88a67)
Epigraph (#u4981a11e-a04c-5012-a92d-b25b860fda11)
Prologue (#uca480f4f-54ff-5ad3-8c72-140767abcce6)
Book One (#ud405ed84-7e29-5ac1-a01f-b22bda54e91d)
Chapter One (#u93d48cb3-6029-5e9a-bab7-5bc7a743ed7f)
Chapter Two (#ud94b65cf-ed07-572e-a1c0-2c843d20a118)
Chapter Three (#u15a4800f-b14d-5857-b328-e8e5072069c4)
Chapter Four (#ue2031329-4c80-59b4-8867-f48d1847df52)
Chapter Five (#u547143b8-86ab-511e-95ab-b3879c629f25)
Chapter Six (#u8c979749-ae02-5470-9599-fb055c768b41)
Chapter Seven (#udcdbfe30-47a0-57f6-a73a-f7e494cccfa4)
Chapter Eight (#uea5d1b22-c53c-5057-99bf-469115ca2c44)
Chapter Nine (#ub02e11f7-3352-51dd-b1cd-87b0a372451e)
Chapter Ten (#u18f1c356-f473-5f2d-9cd5-e22a82995b05)
Chapter Eleven (#u4d184d6e-eae5-5e2c-80d5-0ba4f7e2b14d)
Chapter Twelve (#u55557403-86da-529e-bbf6-5f170174ea27)
Chapter Thirteen (#uf477515c-4eb1-5e8f-bca1-660af49918a9)
Chapter Fourteen (#u77766eae-cd74-505b-bb4a-61beeb75810f)
Book Two (#u9879ef70-b6e8-5c41-854b-7c644d70d3ed)
Chapter Fifteen (#uffe0cd58-5fa0-59b7-8dca-ec5076986deb)
Chapter Sixteen (#u2a761b3a-09ae-5dde-9896-e7507a331e07)
Chapter Seventeen (#u7fe057e0-5197-5b4b-813f-b04fa37da396)
Chapter Eighteen (#u426973e5-f7cb-5eae-bfe3-0fed2bd53618)
Chapter Nineteen (#u6b8c04d2-72c1-5552-ae01-4205a43fa0b5)
Chapter Twenty (#u78df337b-6af2-500b-b411-99ff7e757e87)
Chapter Twenty-One (#u59f6d601-be56-54fd-83cb-7095a2fec1c8)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#u08aa6e27-8d32-58a7-ad14-1459e05351dc)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#uccc29af0-24dd-5554-a214-3760c2f2ca44)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#u158c5dd4-19ef-56f1-80e8-37a0c95dcfc7)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#ufcf4643a-b2a8-5046-a221-b5e484428314)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#ua77bb1b7-bb9b-58b9-95c3-afcac9ffd9a0)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#u1f06ba6e-522e-5d57-96cb-ca105ac14dba)
Book Three (#u4cfacdb1-d72f-50ef-a89e-d5e325e3eb69)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#u4a49f874-167f-557c-8fae-9391fd0e23a7)
Chapter Twenty-Nine (#u3d94724e-05c1-5397-bca6-5ba8bdcdb722)
Chapter Thirty (#u88fe3ae0-67be-5caa-acfa-ebea9a67b552)
Chapter Thirty-One (#udd5d30fb-5f22-57a2-bc59-0bed795503bf)
Chapter Thirty-Two (#ub0fe2cd7-acf2-52f3-af59-83be05554f5c)
Chapter Thirty-Three (#u9ed17e3d-3e8d-56e2-8bc6-3832f0bc747e)
Chapter Thirty-Four (#u8ae99612-3fd6-520f-8b97-936e2d71d677)
Chapter Thirty-Five (#u3833542e-0ff8-5b07-aec6-2033f0f3c369)
Chapter Thirty-Six (#u7265ce13-c92c-5ffb-87e4-43c7b4d94c08)
Chapter Thirty-Seven (#u4fa06213-9a01-515f-9f87-f9f824dae30e)
Chapter Thirty-Eight (#u1a78dc2c-30ff-54d4-8f77-3030d3bfd3b3)
Chapter Thirty-Nine (#udc86ba97-7b42-57bc-a62e-0c280de9b7f4)
Chapter Forty (#u7fff122a-0f10-5534-be81-b4355686a319)
Epilogue (#u79afe592-7277-5a21-aba3-ce3982d62a1c)
Acknowledgments (#uf7da5de4-b00f-5a5b-8b9c-791bf694b1e3)
Prologue (#ulink_63c0cf03-1412-5b3d-93f1-3371c34cd722)
New York, December 15, 2009
The day of reckoning had arrived.
The Gods had demanded a sacrifice. A human sacrifice. In ancient Roman times, when the city was at war, captured enemy leaders would have been ritually strangled on the battlefield in front of a statue of Mars, the war god. Crowds of soldiers would have cheered, screaming not for justice but for vengeance. For blood.
This was not ancient Rome. It was modern-day New York, the beating heart of civilized America. But New York was also a city at war. It was a city full of suffering, angry people who needed somebody to blame for their pain. Today’s human sacrifice would be offered up in the clinical, ordered surroundings of the Manhattan Criminal Courts Building. But it would be none the less bloody for that.
Normally, the TV crews and hordes of ghoulish spectators only showed up for murder trials. Today’s defendant, Grace Brookstein, had not murdered anybody. Not directly anyway. Yet there were plenty of New Yorkers who would have rejoiced to see Grace Brookstein sent to the electric chair. Her son-of-a-bitch husband had cheated them. Worse, he had cheated justice. Lenny Brookstein – may he rot in hell – had laughed in the face of the Gods. Well, now the Gods must be appeased.
The man responsible for appeasing them – District Attorney Angelo Michele, representative of the people – looked across the courtroom at his intended victim. The woman sitting at the defendant’s table, hands clasped calmly in front of her, did not look like a criminal. A slight, attractive blonde in her early twenties, Grace Brookstein had the sweet, angelic features of a child. A competitive gymnast in her teens, she still carried herself with a dancer’s poise, back ramrod straight, hand gestures measured and fluid. Grace Brookstein was fragile. Delicate. Beautiful. She was the sort of woman whom men instinctively wanted to protect. Or rather she would have been, had she not stolen $75 billion in the largest, most catastrophic fraud in U.S. history.
The collapse of Quorum, the hedge fund founded by Lenny Brookstein and co-owned by his young wife, had dealt a fatal blow to the already crippled American economy. Between them, the Brooksteins had ruined families, destroyed entire industries, and brought the once great financial center of New York to its knees. They had stolen more than Madoff, but that wasn’t what hurt the most. Unlike Madoff, the Brooksteins had stolen not from the rich, but from the poor. Their victims were ordinary people: the elderly, small charities, hardworking, blue-collar families already struggling to get by. At least one young father made destitute by Quorum had shot himself, unable to bear the shame of seeing his children turned out on the streets. Not once had Grace Brookstein displayed so much as a shred of remorse.
Of course, there were those who argued that Grace Brookstein was not guilty of the crimes that had brought her to this courtroom. That it was Lenny Brookstein, not his wife, who had masterminded the Quorum fraud. District Attorney Angelo Michele loathed such people. Bleeding-heart liberals. Fools! You think the wife didn’t know what was going on? She knew. She knew everything. She just didn’t care. She spent your pension funds, your life savings, your kids’ college money … Just look at her now! Is she dressed like a woman who gives a shit that you lost your home?
Over the course of the trial, the press had made much of Grace Brookstein’s courtroom attire. Today, for the verdict, she had chosen a white Chanel shift ($7,600), matching bouclé jacket ($5,200), Louis Vuitton pumps ($1,200) and purse ($18,600), and an exquisite floor-length mink handmade for her in Paris, an anniversary present from her husband. The New York Post early edition was already on newsstands. Above a full-length shot of Grace Brookstein arriving at Court 14, the front-page headline screamed: LET THEM EAT CAKE!
District Attorney Angelo Michele intended to make sure that Grace Brookstein’s cake-eating days were over. Enjoy those furs, lady. This’ll be the last day you get to wear ’em.
Angelo Michele was a tall, lean man in his midforties. He wore a plain Brooks Brothers suit and his thick black hair slicked back till it gleamed on top of his head like a shiny black helmet. Angelo Michele was an ambitious man and a fearsome boss – all the junior D.A.s were terrified of him – but he was a good son. Angelo’s parents ran a pizza parlor in Brooklyn. Or they had run one until Lenny Brookstein ‘lost’ their life savings and forced them into bankruptcy. Thank God Angelo earned good money. Without his income the Micheles would have been out on the streets in their old age, destitute like so many other hardworking Americans. As far as Angelo Michele was concerned, prison was too good for Grace Brookstein. But it was a start. And he was going to be the man who put her there.
Sitting next to Grace at the defendant’s table was the man whose job it was to stop him. Francis Hammond III, ‘Big Frank’ as he was known among the New York legal community, was the shortest man in the room. At five foot four, he was barely taller than his tiny client. But Frank Hammond’s intellect towered over his opponents like a behemoth. A brilliant defense attorney with the mind of a chess grand master and the morals of a gutter fighter, Frank Hammond was Grace Brookstein’s Great White Hope. His specialty was playing juries, uncovering fears and desires and prejudices that people didn’t even know they had and turning them to his clients’ advantage. In the past year alone, Frank Hammond had been responsible for the acquittals of two murdering Mafia bosses and a child-molesting actor. His cases were always high profile, and his clients always began their trials as underdogs. Grace Brookstein had originally hired another lawyer to represent her, but her friend and confidant John Merrivale had insisted she fire him and go with Big Frank.
‘You’re innocent, Grace. We know that. But the rest of the world doesn’t. The m-m-media wants you hanged, drawn and quartered. Frank Hammond’s the only guy who can turn that around. He’s a genius.’
No one could understand why Big Frank had allowed Grace Brookstein to show up to court every day in such inflammatory outfits. Her clothes seemed designed to enrage the press still further, not to mention the jury. Surely a titanic mistake?
But Frank Hammond did not make mistakes. Angelo Michele knew that better than anyone.
There’s a method in his madness. There has to be. I just wish I knew what it was.
Still, it didn’t really matter. Today was the last day of the trial and Angelo Michele was convinced he had built an airtight case. Grace Brookstein was going down. First to jail. And then to hell.
Grace Brookstein had woken up that morning in the Merrivales’ guest bedroom suffused with a deep sense of peace. She’d had a dream about Lenny. They were at their estate in Nantucket, always Grace’s favorite of their many multimillion-dollar homes. They were walking in the rose garden. Lenny was holding her hand. Grace could feel the warmth of his skin, the familiar roughness of his palms.
‘It will be okay, my darling. Have faith, Gracie. It will all be okay.’
Walking into court this morning, arm in arm with her attorney, Grace Brookstein had felt the crowd’s hatred, hundreds of pairs of eyes burning a hole in her back. She had heard the catcalls. Bitch. Liar. Thief. But she held on to her inner peace, to Lenny’s voice inside her head.
It will all be okay.
Have faith.
