The Harder They Fall Read Online Free PDF Page A

out, taking in the full length of the runway before they came to a halt. Some of the passengers cheered, although Andy wasn’t able to share their sense of relief just yet; he turned to his brother, who was fast asleep, and decided, against regulations, to dash to the toilet while no-one was looking. By the time he returned, Dan was unbelted and out of his seat.
    “Come on!” he commanded. Andy hesitated a moment, waiting for the telltale tension in Dan’s neck muscles. After all these years he still loved to wind him up, although he was looking a little off-colour, so Andy took it no further. They shuffled forward and queued behind others awaiting their turn, some fussing with bags and belongings, unaware of the impatience building around them. Dan checked his watch and tapped his fingers on the back of a seat. They were going to miss the call at this rate.
    It was the culmination of many months of planning and legal negotiations that could have been made all the more complex because of the emotive issues within which they were embedded, the final stage of setting in motion everything that had been ambitiously envisaged. Nine months had passed since Alistair Campion died, an unintended victim of a man crazed by loss and loneliness. There was still no credible explanation for why he targeted Campion in particular, but regardless, he was no more, and the fire had ensured his empire went with him. Almost.
    Campion’s wife died not long after and what was left of the business would have remained forever intestate, had it not been for the discovery of a singular son and heir. With the directors dispersed to other boardrooms across the UK, Alistair’s estranged son Jason had finally and rightfully won his inheritance. If they made it to the hotel in time they might even find out what he intended to do with it.
    Jason was no stranger. Dan and Andy had known him for years, in passing at least. Now in his early twenties, he still sported the moody, sullen attitude of his youth and insisted on wearing arty, dark attire even in the midst of summer, when the rest of the country was donning its shorts and vest, whatever the weather. He certainly hadn’t inherited his dress sense from his father, nor, it would seem, his business sense, for it was apparent from all previous communications that he didn’t want the money and was desperate to dispense with the responsibilities that came with it.
    They at last made it inside the terminal and stopped at the first open area where they could get out of the flow of foot traffic. Dan was fidgety and felt sick.
    “I’ll stay and check in with the haulage people, if you like,” Andy suggested.
    “Yeah. Good idea. I’ll get to the hotel and set everything up. See you there.” Dan was already moving away, grateful that he could save face. The humidity wasn’t helping much, although didn’t normally bother him. Maybe it was something he’d eaten. The mere thought of food turned his stomach and he quickly stepped outside, gulping in a great lungful of mountain air. It was warm and moist, but wonderfully real compared to the plane, and it instantly eased the nausea.
    Two groups of people congregated outside the terminal: passengers who had just exited and were now variously awaiting taxis or lifts, and then the taxi drivers, legitimate or otherwise, seeking to pick up a fare. Somewhere in amongst the latter group would be their connection and Dan started to scour the crowd, wondering how he might recognise this person. If he’d felt well, he’d have stayed with his brother, as their lift was someone Andy knew from his previous visit to Nepal. Dan rubbed his eyes and swallowed back the saliva, hoping it was the product of his mind rather than his stomach.
    “Andrew!” a voice called from within the midst of waiting cars, a hand waving over the heads of the crowd, looming closer, until a smiling brown face came into view.
    “Ah. Yeah,” Dan said under his breath with a weary