Jack_ Secret Vengeance - F. Paul Wilson [0]
To Keith and KRW from the repairmanjack.com forum for the tagline on a certain character’s business card.
Special thanks to Susan Chang for her editorial guidance throughout the trilogy.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Acknowledgments
Sunday
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Monday
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Tuesday
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Wednesday
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Thursday
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Friday
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Saturday
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Sunday
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Monday
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Tuesday
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Wednesday
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Author's Note
The Secret History of the World
Also by F. Paul Wilson
Copyright
SUNDAY
Weezy was attacked on a Saturday night.
1
“Jack,” his mother called from down the hall. “Weezy’s on the phone.”
Jack poked his head out from under the covers, forced his eyes open, and checked the clock on the table next to his bed. He saw 8:13 in glowing red numbers. He squinted at his window. A cloudy morning sky peeked around the edge of the drawn shade.
“I’ll call her back.”
“She says it’s important.”
What could be important at eight thirteen on a Sunday morning?
Groaning, he slid out of bed, pulled on his jeans, and padded barefoot down the hall past his brother’s and sister’s empty bedrooms. Tom was finishing law school in Jersey City and Kate had started med school in Stratford. He veered right, into the kitchen where his mother was cracking eggs, and picked up the receiver lying on the counter.
“Hey.”
“Jack, I need to talk to you. Real bad.”
“Well, hello, stranger.”
Except for brief conversations at the school bus stop, they hadn’t seen too much of each other lately.
“I’m serious, Jack. I really need to talk.”
Something in her voice … he couldn’t put his finger on it, but he sensed she was upset. She didn’t get along too well with her folks, especially her dad. Weezy was a little too strange for him. Maybe a lot too strange.
Not too strange for Jack. She was just … Weezy.
Maybe they’d had a blowup.
“Okay. Want to come over for breakfast?”
“No. I don’t want anyone else listening in. Meet me on the bridge and we’ll bike into the Barrens where no one can hear us.”
Weezy … always mysterious. Well, he had some time before he was due for work at USED.
“Sure. Let me get something to eat and I’ll meet you there in half an hour.”
“That long?”
“I’m hungry, Weez. I’ll try for twenty.”
“Okay.”
He smiled as he hung up. Now what? Never a dull moment with Weezy Connell. And Jack wouldn’t have it any other way.
He heard voices coming from the living room—first a man’s, then a woman’s. Radio? TV? His folks never played either on Sunday morning. This was newspaper time. If they played anything, it was one of Mom’s Broadway soundtracks. He went to check and found his father seated before the TV, leaning forward, eyes glued to the screen.
And on that screen—a pile of burning, smoking rubble with fire trucks and ambulances milling around. A caption said Beirut, Lebanon. The little CNN logo sat in the lower right corner.
“What happened?”
Dad looked up, his expression grim. “See that pile of concrete? That was a four-story marine barrack until some crazy Arabs blew it up.”
Jack stared at the rubble. Four stories? It was barely one now.
“An air raid?”
“No. Word coming out is some nutcase drove a truckload of explosives through the front door and blew it up.”
Jack