He frisked the body, then went pocket-diving.
Come on, Oliver. Tell me you get migraines and you carry a bottle of Advil everywhere you go.
No wallet or ID, of course. Never carry any of that nonsense when you’re prospecting, Billy had told him. You can always claim you lost it or got mugged, if you have to.
A key ring, including—Jazz surmised—the key to the padlock that locked unit 83F. Nice to have. Even nicer if he had a way to reach the lock.
Some scraps of paper, covered in illegible scrawl. No doubt Dog’s prospecting notes, scribbled down while stalking his next victim.
Really? No aspirin? Nothing? The crazy people talking in your head never give you a headache?
Last thing he found: a cell phone.
A phone with as much signal strength as Jazz’s, which was to say none.
Jazz sat on the cold concrete floor, his back against Dog’s workbench. He propped his leg up on Dog’s corpse, keeping it elevated in an effort to prevent further blood loss.
There was nothing here and no way out and no way to stop the insistent, persistent ache from his leg, the pain that reminded him that he could die of infection, that he could end up an amputee, that—
Stay calm. You have water. You have two cell phones now. You just doubled your time to find a signal.
Oh, let’s throw a party, then! You bring the water; I’ll bring the bleach.
He opened Dog’s cheap, disposable cell. Yeah, no signal.
But there was a little envelope icon. A message. Must have come through before Dog came inside and lost his signal.
Jazz opened the message. It was a photo.
Why are you here? he had asked Billy. Who did you come to New York to find?
Oh. My. God.
And Billy had said, I’m gonna tell ol’ Doggy. I’m gonna let him in on the secret. And then you can ask him.
And Billy had told Dog. Had told him with a thousand words, with one photo that screamed at Jazz’s eyeballs.
It had to be a trick of the light. Or, rather, of the darkness.
Or his vision, gone bleary and illusionary from pain.
I’ve already passed out. I’m dreaming. This is all a dream as I lay dying.
He deliberately squeezed his leg just below the bullet wound and the pain jolted him into full wakefulness.
If there had been any doubt, the pain sluiced it away. He was awake. Conscious. Fully aware.
And he knew this woman. She was older, but he knew her.
On Dog’s phone, a photo sent—Jazz knew—by Billy.
A photo of his mother.
She was alive.
Acknowledgments
Per usual, I have to start by thanking everyone at Little, Brown for making Game happen: Alvina Ling (editor extraordinaire), Bethany Strout (her thoroughly desensitized assistant), Megan Tingley, Victoria Stapleton, Melanie Chang, Jessica Bromberg, Andrew Smith, Zoe Luderitz, JoAnna Kremer, Barbara Bakowski, Alison Impey, Amy Habayeb, Kristin Dulaney, and those whose names I have unforgivably neglected to mention here. Thank you, one and all!
Then there is my agent, Kathy Anderson, and everyone at Anderson Literary, as well as the fine folks at Jody Hotchkiss and Associates.
I also have to thank my early readers: Morgan Baden, the uncanny Libba Bray, and Eric Lyga (who also bought me a Monopoly set—thanks, bro). Special thanks, too, to Darryl Aiken-Afam.
And now… the experts! Dr. Deborah Mogelof once again rode to my rescue with medical advice, promptly and clinically given, no matter how weird or distasteful the question. Detective Paul Grudzinski of the NYPD was instrumental in matters pertaining to the police in Brooklyn, and Philip Edney and Special Agent Joseph Lewis of the FBI were invaluable in helping me figure out aspects of the Bureau. As always, when it comes to medical and legal matters, anything I got right is thanks to them; anything I got wrong is my own damn fault.
Contents
WELCOME
DEDICATION
PART ONE: 3 PLAYERS, 2 SIDES
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
PART TWO: 4 PLAYERS, 3 SIDES
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
PART THREE: 5 PLAYERS, 3 SIDES
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
PART FOUR: 5 PLAYERS, 4 SIDES
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
CHAPTER 53
CHAPTER 54
CHAPTER 55
CHAPTER 56
CHAPTER 57
CHAPTER 58
PART FIVE: GAME OVER
CHAPTER 59
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
COPYRIGHT
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 by Barry Lyga
Book design by Alison Impey
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at permissions@hbgusa.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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First e-book edition: April 2013
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ISBN 978-0-316-23499-3