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As Craig Garrett went about preparing to leave the bunker system, for good this time, his mind was besieged with thoughts of Peter Cornwell. The bastard was probably curled up in his comfortable bed in Fiji, he guessed. Maybe a soft, tropical breeze would be wafting gently across his fat, ugly body as he dreamed of his share of two million dollars. The prick was going to be surprised when he found out there was no two million dollars. If there ever was a ransom drop as planned, the police probably had it by now, along with Thomas and Frayne. Or maybe Cornwell had it! If he knew that Thomas and Frayne were in police custody, maybe he travelled out to Mount Liebig himself and grabbed the ransom money. No, Cornwell wouldn’t have it, Garrett decided. Peter Cornwell was about the unhealthie
