Chapter 102.
Three Days Later
Jimmy Donaldson is still running.
Feeling he really is running for his life this time.
If not for his life, for the lives of Jack, Alek, Wyatt, Hannah, and whoever else survived their duels.
He hasn’t slept. It’s been like this for nearly three days.
He’s in London again. He’s soaked to the bone, rain slashing sideways through the streets. His mouth throbs where he lost a tooth in a fight that shouldn’t have happened in a hotel room that shouldn’t have been compromised.
At that moment, he didn’t care.
None of this should be happening. None of it. Especially the deaths.
And whatever insane deadly duels had been forced on them.
An hour ago, he was nearly captured in the Royal Horseguards Hotel by three very large men. In his damn room.
None of that matters.
Just keep running.
Finally he stops, has to stop, under the dripping awning of a pub. The Ship & Shovell.
He needs to send a text. To Jack, Alek, Hannah, Wyatt.
And does:
Hope you’re all safe. Crazy days. Getting crazier all the time.
I’ve been back to New York. Then Frankfurt for a day.
Now back in London. I’m closer than I’ve ever been to solving this puzzle.
Finding the murderer, because that’s the way I think of him now.
Really close. Continue to trust me if you can.
Be safe. Make good choices. I’ll try to do the same.
Just know this, and know it’s important, even though you don’t know why yet:
Gavin Hillshire might be alive.
Then Jimmy is running through the teeming rain, again. His shoes keep making loud squishing noises with every step. He’s never been this exhausted in his life.
What a terrible night. He finally sees a cab up ahead.
Finally, he catches a break.
But before he can get in—the cab is cut off. Two black Escalades.
Doors fly open. Men fly out.
He immediately recognizes the thugs from his hotel.
Hands grab him. Yank him. Drag him into the back of one of the SUVs before he can even get his feet under him. He fights, but it’s three on one and they’ve done this before.
Once inside, he hears a voice. Smooth. Familiar. It’s coming from the very rear of the SUV.
“So nice to see you again, James,” The Host says.
“Wish I could say the same,” Jimmy says. “But no worries. I’ll take a free ride anytime. Just tell the driver to drop me at Heathrow.”
A soft chuckle.
“Actually,” the man says, “we’re going to Farnborough. Private. You deserve the best. None of this could’ve happened without you. I really do owe you a debt of gratitude.”
Jimmy stares into the rear cabin until the man’s face becomes visible.
The Host.
Jimmy’s voice hardens. “No. I’m not responsible for this. Not for these deaths. Not for your games.”
“You helped open the door,” The Host says. “Now you get to see what’s on the other side.”
Jimmy leans forward, jaw clenched. “Where are you taking me?”
“To a place where all your questions will finally be answered. And where a winner will be crowned.”
He pauses.
“Do you know who the winner is, James?” he adds.
One more pause, before The Host adds, “I do.”