The Edge of Armageddon

Начало книги

Julian Marsh had always been a man of contrasting colors. One side black, the other gray… to infinity. Oddly, he never showed any interest as to why he evolved a little differently to the rest, merely accepted it, learned to live with it, reveled in it. To all intents and purposes it made him an object of interest; it diverted attention from the machinations going on behind the distinctive eyes and the salt-and-pepper hair. Marsh was always going to be outstanding — one way or another.

Inside, he was a different person again. Inner focus centered his attention to a single nucleus. For this month it was the cause of the Pythians, or rather what was left of them. The odd group had attracted his attention and then just dissolved around him. Tyler Webb was more a psychopathic mega-stalker than a cabalistic leader. But Marsh enjoyed the opportunity of departing alone, of masterminding a personal, eccentric design. To hell with Zoe Sheers and whomever else remained operational inside the sect, and to an even deeper hell with Nicholas Bell. Strapped, cuffed and waterboarded, no doubt the ex-builder would be spilling all to the authorities to gain even the slightest reprieve.

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