Acts of Mercy

Eighteen

Justice finished repacking his suitcase and stood at his compartment door. The Presidential Special had already stopped, and outside the windows, on the station platform, there was a good deal of noise and activity. But he did not pay any attention to it. He might have been alone somewhere, standing in utter silence. He knew the name of the fear now that had been plaguing him since Thursday night, and the voice of it echoed in his mind and would not be shut away.

What if something far more ominous had happened to Briggs and Wexford, the voice kept saying, than death by freak and coincidental accident?

What if they were murdered?

What if someone close to the President was a homicidal psychopath?