The Death Club

Начало книги

     GARAGE doors locked securely, George Dunlap said, “All right,” and started across the lawn in back of the square white house which stood in the center of a five-acre plot.

     Walt Harper fell in step behind Dunlap and followed him through inky shadows to the narrow walk that skirted the darkened house. Heels clicked hollowly on the concrete, echoing out from the side of the structure until the two men swung around the corner and up the front steps.

     Dunlap unlocked the door. Harper unbuttoned his coat so he would have free access to his left armpit, and pressed in through the doorway behind his companion.

     Dunlap snapped the light switch as Harper shut the door. A yellow glow bathed the spacious, luxuriously furnished hall.

     Harper said, “I'll go up with you.”

     Dunlap nodded, stepped forward, and ascended the wide staircase. At the second floor landing he turned right, and Harper followed him down the thickly carpeted corridor to the last room on the left. Harper reached in front of the other man, threw open the door and stepped into the darkened room.

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