Son of Perdition (Chronicles of Brothers) Read Free Page B

hospitalization and therapy after her accident, to finalizing the details of Jason and Julia’s acrimonious and highly publicized divorce.
    Jontil had given Jason the cold shoulder for a full year during the separation. She had adored Julia St Cartier since she had first met Jason’s sparky young journalist wife nineteen years previously. She and Julia had forged a deep friendship and Jontil was loyal to a fault. She was also a devout Baptist who fervently believed in the sanctity of marriage. And believed in Jason and Julia. She also believed in his youngest brother Nick. Jason scowled. Jontil had no intention of making it easy for him, that much he was sure of. But she kept her opinions to herself and he trusted her implicitly. Jason De Vere trusted very few.
    He finally spotted her standing in the corner with her ever-present BlackBerry, two notebooks in her left hand, her matronly figure attired in a silk lilac suit. ‘Purvis!’ Jason shouted over his shoulder. ‘Purvis!’
    Jontil looked up from her call, assessed Jason’s predicament, then disappeared.
    A split second later, a gangly brunette extricated Jason from the blonde’s grasp. She clasped his arm tightly, barely able to contain her excitement. Guiding him over to the cocktail bar, she pressed a remote screen and a man’s face appeared.
    ‘Jason . . . ’ She pushed the screen toward him. ‘Matt’s on the line from Teheran – it’s your brother. We’ve got the exclusive – breaking news. The final date’s just been set for the peace accord. This is a goer, Jason.’
    He grasped her arm hard. ‘The Ishtar Accord . . . you’re sure ?’
    She nodded vigorously.
    Jason pulled his BlackBerry from his belt and scrolled down until he reached a message that had been sent over an hour earlier.
    ‘Iran conceded. Ishtar Accord. Jan 7. Your scoop. EXCLUSIVE.’
    ‘Damn!’ Jason pushed her aside.
    His eyes bored into the image of Matt Barton, VOX’s Teheran Bureau Chief on the screen. ‘Matt, what’s going on?’
    ‘There’s virtually nothing left here, Chief. Teheran’s the only city left standing. Mashhad, Tabriz – incinerated. Direct nuclear strikes. But the Iranians have still been as stubborn as hell. Until your brother arrived. They conceded an hour ago. It’s confirmed. The Accord’s set to coincide with the opening of the United Nations in Babylon. Three weeks’ time.’
    ‘Babylon, not Damascus?’ Jason raised his eyebrows. Interesting . He frowned. ‘And Israel?’
    ‘Intractable as always. I’ll let Melanie give you the lowdown.’
    Melanie Kelly, VOX’s senior Middle East Correspondent, came into view.
    ‘Israel is prepared to denuclearize, sir. We’re sure.’
    ‘How sure is sure?’
    ‘As sure as sure can ever be, O great tycoon, but the rumour is your genius of a little brother has somehow got pre-signatures from Israel dependent on some major concessions known only to himself – you know how cagey he is. Anyway – trust me – Iran’s in. Israel will be in by next week. It’s watertight. We go on air in ten.’
    Jontil Purvis placed her hand calmly on Jason’s arm.
    ‘VOX Central’s online, sir. They’re waiting for you downstairs.’
    Jason snapped off the small TV, then strode down the spiral stairs into the lower deck executive quarters, stopping outside a leather-covered door.
    ‘Lily,’ he spoke into the system and held up his palm for verification. A second later, the door swung open. He walked over to the vast bank of television monitors that straddled one entire wall of the deck.
    The transmission controller flicked a switch and the VOX Manhattan broadcast centre came online. A twenty-five-year-old with a West Coast tan and long highlighted hair came into view.
    ‘Hi boss – we’re up linking your brother live on VOX any second.’
    ‘Turn it UP.’ Jason threw his jacket down on the plush black leather sofa and slowly rolled up his shirt sleeves, his gaze locked on the TV screen.
    Jontil