Back from the Dead
Peter Leonard
Language: English
Pages: 282
ISBN: 1611880637
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Peter Leonard's jaw-dropping VOICES OF THE DEAD introduced us to two mortal enemies: Holocaust survivor Harry Levin and Nazi death angel Ernst Hess. Now, their struggle reaches its dramatic conclusion in BACK FROM THE DEAD.Bahamas, 1971. Ernst Hess, missing and presumed dead, regains consciousness to find himself stuck in a hospital bed on a strange ward in a foreign country. He must do what he needs to do to get his life back and to finish the job he has been doing for decades.Harry believes he has already stopped Hess. When he finds out that the war criminal has somehow survived, Harry must do the only thing he can do – kill Hess again – even if it means crossing continents and putting his life and the lives of those that matter to him on the line.Action-packed and darkly humorous, BACK FROM THE DEAD is the unforgettable conclusion to a story that launches Peter Leonard into the pantheon of great suspense novelists.
to ask you some questions.” “I’m kinda busy. The boozehounds are on their way, be here any time.” “You can work while we talk.” The bar was empty except for a couple of old dudes in golf shirts down to his right, drinking martinis. He could hear “Joy to the World” by Three Dog Night coming from speakers somewhere in the room. Conlin held up a snapshot of Lynn Risdon he’d found in a desk drawer at her house. “You know her?” The bartender looked up and nodded. “She’s a regular. Comes in has a
You read about that woman was strangled last night a few blocks from here? Klaus is our main suspect. Murdered her, took a shower, fixed himself a snack. We’ve got a real wacko on our hands. Fingerprints match the prints on the security guard’s handgun and flashlight. They also match the prints in Lenore Deutsch’s house. But from what you tell me he’s not after you, so you’ve got nothing to worry about. Listen, you have a nice evening, Ms. Cantor.” The phone was ringing when Harry walked in the
dollars an ounce, limit four ounces per customer,” Cordell said and grinned. “Why is there a limit?” “Shit’s so good I can’t be responsible what happens to you.” “Got it with you?” Cordell sold the whole batch, four hundred lids in a couple days, and was on the phone to Alejo. “I’m out, man. Got more? I’ll take fifty pounds this time.” “That’s a lot of woo woo,” Alejo said. “Got a lot of people want to get high.” They agreed to meet at the farm again. No High-Step this time, just Cordell
to be. A few kilometers down the road Hess said, “Franz, pull over, I have to take a leak.” Stigler slowed down and stopped the car on the side of the road. “Do you mind if I join you? My bladder feels like it is going to explode.” Inside the tree line, Hess pulled the Walther and shot Stigler while he was relieving himself. Hess changed into a dark green electrician’s uniform he had taken earlier from Stigler’s van, hiding it in the trunk of the sedan. The shirt was too small and the
though, won’t you?” The dog growled. “Yes, her will.” Whoever the guy was he’d get tired of sitting there. Phyllis had referred to it as the lobby, but in fact it was a claustrophobic six-by-eight-foot space with off-white cinderblock walls, one featuring a framed watercolor of a ship docked at sunset an old girlfriend had bought for him at an art fair in Traverse City. There were also two uncomfortable, chrome-framed teal Naugahyde chairs, circa ’63, that had been in Harry’s basement. He was