A few hours ago the Governor of Maine made a speech about Lexi at the reception.
…‘a remarkable woman, from a remarkable family. Lexi Templeton’s personal courage and integrity are known to all of us. Her spirit, her determination, her business acumen, her honesty…”
Honesty? If only they knew!
“…these make up the public face of Lexi Templeton. But today, we’re here to celebrate something else. A very private joy. A very private love. And a love that those of us who know Lexi know she so richly deserves.”
Lexi thought: None of you know me. Not even my husband. I don’t ‘deserve’ his love. But I fought for it, and I won it, and I’m damned if I’m going to let anyone take it away from me. Least of all you.
Now most of the guests had gone. Lexi’s brother Robbie and his partner were still downstairs. So was Lexi’s baby daughter, Maxine, and the nanny. Any moment now Lexi’s husband would come looking for her. It was time to leave for their honeymoon.
It was time…
Lexi Templeton walked over to the window. Beyond the formal lawns of Cedar Hill House she could see the closely huddled white roofs of Dark Harbor, and behind them the dark, brooding sea. This evening the roiling water looked unusually ominous.
It’s waiting. One day it will swallow the island whole. A big wave will come and wipe everything out. As if none of this ever existed.
Two men in suits got out of their car and approached the security gate. Even before they pulled out their badges, Lext Templeton knew who they were. It was just like it said in the letter: ‘The police are on their way. You have no way out Alexandra. Not this time.’
Tears stung the back of Lexi’s eyes. She could hear her Aunt Eve’s voice as clearly as if she were still alive, taunting her, laden with spite. Was she right? Was this really it? The end of the game? After all Lexi’s struggles? She remembered a Dylan Thomas poem she’d learned at school: “Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
Damn right I’ll rage. I’ll not let that old witch beat me without a fight.
The cops were through the gate now. They were almost at the door.
Lexi Templeton took a deep breath and went downstairs to meet them.
After the Darkness Excerpt
Greed, for lack of a better word, is good.
Greed is right.
Greed works.
Greed clarifies, cuts through, and captures the essence of the evolutionary spirit.
Greed, in all of its forms—greed for life, for money, for love, for knowledge—has marked the upward surge of mankind.
(Gordon Gekko, in Wall Street. 1987)
PROLOGUE
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 ghoulish hordes of 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.