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In WINTER KILLS, Richard Condon probes one of the most significant events in America's 20th century: the assassination of a president. Timothy Kegan is shot in a Philadelphia motorcade; a presidential commission condemns a lone psychopath as the killer. Fourteen years later, Tim's half-brother, Nick, learns through a deathbed confession that Tim was the victim of a mysterious conspiracy. As Nick attempts to find the real assassin, he encounters oil kings, movie queens, venal police, organized crime, the CIA, and labor unions -- all eager for power and control. The ending is guaranteed to surprise and horrify!
the rifle to the police lab, and by now they’re checking the fingerprints—and whatever else they do—with the FBI.” “That’s real evidence.” “We had a Shell lawyer take a deposition from Fletcher, the second rifleman, in Brunei. Keifetz got the Brunei police to lift Fletcher’s prints and take his photograph. Those are all in the mail now and on their way here.” “To this house?” “Yes.” “Then we have a case. We have a case,” Pa said. “We are going to take this to the President.” “I hoped you’d
said. “I can’t believe it. We were partners for thirty-five years.” “I met Captain Heller briefly,” Nick said. “Seemed like a very nice fellow.” “Was he on duty?” “Yes.” “Then he wasn’t exactly nice. He had a whole different spirit, you might say, when he was on duty. We always had the roughest jobs.” “I bet.” “I been running a chicken farm for eight years, and, believe me, I ain’t relaxed yet. Not that I like it. You know—once a cop, always a cop.” The agency had paid Lieutenant Doty two
sir. Close the door.” Heller got up from behind the desk, walked to Casper and said, “Put your hands against the wall and lean into them.” “What the hell for?” “We have voice prints now. We will make sure you are not wearing a recorder or a transmitter. Then we talk with total security.” Casper leaned, and Captain Heller frisked him. Then he held a chair for Casper and returned to his own chair behind the desk and started the recorder with his knee. “Coffee is coming. Do you take schnapps with
in the United States just to be chosen to handle work like that. But if Heller was Joe’s hero, Joe was like a mother and wife to the rest of the guys just the same. He was good for a touch of up to a hundred dollars for only five percent a week, but he wouldn’t lend more than that, because it made bad friendships in the end if he had to turn the guys in for nonpayment. He got the cops a better than fair share of all the narcotics business in the city. Whoever was in vice or stolen goods or
That’s a pretty rich ethnic group. LOLA: Maybe you better ask your father. [There is a telephone sound.] TIM: Pa? Lola is here. She says some Sicilian organization contributed two million dollars to the campaign and that you took it in hundred-dollar bills. [There is a long silence on the tape.] All right. We’ll talk about it later. [There is a sound of a telephone console button being pressed.] Henry? Get John Donnelly out here from Washington. Tell him to bring me the record of every campaign