Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
William Goldman's remarkable career spans more than five decades, and his credentials run the gamut from bestselling novelist to Oscar-winning screenwriter to Hollywood raconteur. He's beloved by millions of readers as the author of the classic comic-romantic fantasy The Princess Bride. And he's notorious for creating the most harrowing visit to the dentist in literary and cinematic history--in one of the seminal thrillers of the twentieth century. . . .
Tom "Babe" Levy is a runner in every sense: racing tirelessly toward his goals of athletic and academic excellence--and endlessly away from the specter of his famous father's scandal-driven suicide. But an unexpected visit from his beloved older brother will set in motion a chain of events that plunge Babe into a vortex of terror, treachery, and murder--and force him into a race for his life . . . and for the answer to the fateful question, "Is it safe?"
are Scylla?” she said finally. Well dear God, who did she think he was after all this? Her lack of skill was beginning to gall him. He had done far too much to have to deal with lackeys and fools. He said nothing, only nodded. “I thought you might be female.” I thought you might be male, he almost replied, which, of course, was true; so, of course, he couldn’t. He said nothing. “Was not Scylla a female monster?” “Scylla was a rock. A rock near a whirlpool. Charybdis was the whirlpool.” “And
nut—this is New York, nuts are slaughtering people every moonrise—some addict tried getting his money and he wasn’t quick enough handing it over and you know the rest.” “I don’t think that’s even close,” Janeway said. “I think it was political. At least, that’s the assumption I’m going on till proven otherwise. And I wish you’d do what you could to help me.” “Political?” Babe shook his head. “My God, why?” “Because it makes some kind of sense. Considering what your brother did. And, of course,
outside, his hold on Alexandra stronger by the month, each time he cured another of her son’s hemophilia fights while the doctors stood around helpless. Lenin was humping the cause of restlessness when and where he could, making headway. And in America? Money. M-o-n-e-y, thazzall. The Vanderbilts gave a little soiree with not just Franz Lehar himself doing the orchestra conducting, and not just Kreisler and Elman sawing away on their fiddles; no, for the capper they had Caruso entertaining the
eventually wind up wherever the diamond market was highest at the time—sometimes Switzerland, sometimes West Germany—and then Szell would exchange whatever the top currency was for Paraguayan money and life would go on till he needed more. It all worked perfectly until the old man got totaled in the car crash. See, not anybody can use a safe-deposit box, just the renter and an alternate; they only have the alternate in case of this kind of thing, unexpected death. Szell was his father’s
the death because a stalled motor had happened in a rented Volks back by Lexington Avenue, and these things do happen all the time in cities, really, but they pass, flare-up follows quiet follows outburst, on and on, and probably this one would have passed too, except for Hunsicker. Hunsicker was making his regular delivery, and he hated the 87th Street job because the street was narrow, but he liked the 87th Street job because around the corner toward 88th was the Lenox Hill Deli and behind the