By Thomas Perry
Jane Whitefield, the fearless "guide" who is helping humans in hassle disappear, make sufferers vanish,has simply began her quiet new existence as Mrs. Carey McKinnon, while she is named upon back, to stand her hardest competitors but. Jane needs to try and shop a tender lady fleeing a dangerous mafioso. but the deceptively walk in the park of hiding a woman propels Jane into the heart of awful occasions, and pairs her with Bernie the Elephant, the mafia's guy with the cash. Bernie has a photographic reminiscence, and to be able to undo an evil that has been transforming into for part a century,he and Jane engineer the largest robbery of all time, stealing billions from hidden mafia bills and donating the cash to charity. Heart-stopping velocity, high-quality writing, and spell binding characters mix in Blood funds to make it the simplest novel but by means of the author known as "one of America's most interesting storytellers,"(San Francisco Examiner).
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Extra resources for Blood Money (Jane Whitefield, Book 5)
Last spring, some people wandered across my neighbour’s field with their dog and killed three of his lambs. ’ ‘I’m sorry about that but…’ ‘And Rod Wilson, just over there, he used to send calves over to Ostend. They started with the picketing of the port at Goldswan Green. Couple of months ago, Rod’s barn was burned down. It’ll be somebody’s house next. ’ ‘All right, all right. You know what I’ll do? ’ ‘I did. I’ve bought Elm House on the other side of Lymne. Lumney. ’ ‘Did you now. We always like visitors from London.
Find me some bloody evidence. ’ Six In just a couple of weeks I had managed to construct a life for myself. I had a house and a garden. The house was old with large windows and a solid, four-square shape and stood on what must have been a quayside long ago. Now it looked forlornly across marshland to the sea, half a mile away. In the hectic few days after buying the house in November I had asked around in the estate agent and in the shop a couple of miles up the road in Lymne and found a child-minder.
She was surprised at herself, embarrassed almost. When she was a child, her uncle had led her through a slaughterhouse outside Fuenteobejuna and had smiled down at her as she refused to faint in the face of the blood and dismemberment and above all the steam rising from the cold stone floor. That was the smell she had remembered. It wasn’t a barn at all. There were splashes of blood across such a wide area, even on the ceiling, on the far wall, that Mr Mackenzie might have exploded. Mostly, though, it was in dark pools on his lap and on the sofa.
Blood Money (Jane Whitefield, Book 5) by Thomas Perry