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THE TEMPEST
THE TEMPEST
A Bowers and Hunter Mystery
James Lilliefors
Released July 28th, 2015
Witness Impulse
James
Lilliefors's unlikely detective duo, Pastor Luke Bowers and homicide
investigator Amy Hunter, return in a new murder mystery set in Maryland's
picturesque Tidewater County
Tourists like Susan Champlain pass through the Chesapeake Bay region every
year. But when Susan pays Pastor Luke Bowers a visit, he's disturbed by what
she shares with him. Her husband has a short temper, she says, and recently
threatened to make her "disappear" because of a photo Susan took on
her phone.
Luke is concerned enough to tip off Tidewater County's chief homicide
investigator, Amy Hunter. That night, Susan's body is found at the foot of the
Widow's Point bluff. Hunter soon discovers Susan left behind clues that may
connect her fate to a series of killings in the Northeast, a powerful criminal
enterprise, and to a missing Rembrandt masterpiece, The Storm on the Sea of
Galilee.
Whoever is behind the killings has created a storm of deception and betrayal, a
deliberate "tempest" designed to obscure the truth. Now Hunter and
Bowers must join forces to trace the dangerous secret glimpsed in Susan's
photo. But will they be the next targets on a killer's deadly agenda . . . ?
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James Lilliefors is the author of the
geopolitical thriller novels The Levianthan Effect and Viral. A journalist and
novelist who grew up near Washington DC, Lilliefors is also the author of three
nonfiction books. He writes the Luke Bowers and Amy Hunter series for Witness.
Prologue
Spring
“Miracles.
What can I tell you? In a skeptical world, if a real miracle occurred, it
wouldn’t even make the evening news. Who would believe it? This one, though,
will be different. This one, the skeptics won’t be able to explain. People will
want to see for themselves; they’ll line up around the block to have a look.
That’s what we need to talk about.”
Walter
Kepler watched his attorney’s own skepticism harden slightly as he waited on
the details of Kepler’s plan. Jacob Weber was used to this, to Kepler’s
Barnum-like enthusiasms as he introduced a new idea. Weber had precise, dark
eyes, a narrow face, bristly white hair cut close to the scalp. Seen from
behind, he could appear as small and fragile as a child. But he also possessed
that rarest of human qualities—consistent good judgment; unerringly good, in
Kepler’s estimation.
As
presented, Kepler’s plan consisted of three parts: A sells a painting to B; B
sells the painting to C; and C (who was Kepler) uses the painting to bring
about a “miracle.” The first two parts of the plan he would handle himself,
with the assistance of Nicholas Champlain and, of course, Belasco. It was for
third part that he needed Jacob Weber’s help—needed his judgment, and,
ultimately, his skills as a negotiator.
Kepler had
been formulating versions of this plan in his head since he was a boy, trailing
his father through the great art museums of the Northeast and Europe, stopping
to stare at some painting or sculpture that, his father insisted, was not only
an important work but also a masterpiece. With time, Kepler had learned to tell
the difference, to understand why certain paintings—like certain people, and
ideas—held greater intrinsic value than others.
He had spent much of his adult
life refining that understanding, through the storms of sudden wealth, divorce
and the more mundane trials of daily living.
When he
finished telling Weber his plan, Kepler turned the conversation to the
painting. He watched Weber’s face flush with a new interest as he described the
masterpiece that had dominated his thoughts for the past three weeks, ever
since he’d ascertained that it was the real thing. The tempest. Fourteen men
trapped on a boat. Each responds differently to a life-threatening storm: one
trying valiantly to fix the main sail, another cowering in terror from the
waves, one calmly steering the rudder. Fourteen men, fourteen reactions. Kepler
imagined how his attorney would react once the waters began to churn in another
several months.
Then Kepler
sat back and let Jacob Weber voice his concerns. They were much as he had
expected—candid, well-reasoned, occasionally surprising. Kepler managed to fend
off most; those he couldn’t, he stored away.
“So what
are we looking at?” his attorney asked. “When would it need to happen?”
Kepler
glanced at Weber’s right hand, absently tracing the stem of the coffee cup. It
was a pleasant April morning, the bay shivering with whitecaps.
“Late
summer,” he said. “August, I’m thinking.”
His
attorney thought about that, showing no expression. Calculating how the plan
would interrupt and impact his own life, no doubt. Jacob Weber finally closed
and opened his eyes. He nodded. “It’s do-able,” he said. After a thoughtful
pause, he added, “Actually, I kind of like it.”
Weber’s
response would have sounded lukewarm to an outsider. To Kepler, it was a hearty
endorsement. In fact, he had never known Jacob Weber to be quite so
enthusiastic about one of his ideas. All in all, it was a very good start.
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