'There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men
long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter.’
Ernest Hemingway
A cult member is arrested at the scene of a brutal murder. She will only speak to former crime reporter, Joe O'Connell.
Joe's obsession with Obadiah Stark a.k.a The Tally Man cost him everything.
He is about to learn that Stark's message did not end with his death.
They believe in what The Tally Man stood for.
They believe in what The Tally Man did.
But he was one, and they are many.
Once they have you, they will never let you go...
PROLOGUE
NOW
“Go fuck yourself.”
Those had been Joe O’Connell’s last words before finding himself here.
Drifting back from unconsciousness, he returned from darkness only to find himself engulfed in a different kind—one that was virtually pitch black and imbued with a musty, dank smell.
He tried to lift himself from the seated position he was in, straining against the leather straps securing him in place. Iron ankle fetters tethered his legs tightly against what he recognised was a chair. His fingers felt around the arms to see if he could create any give in the straps but he gave up after a minute or so. Something cold and hard was pressing against the soles of his feet. It took him a few moments to realise his shoes and socks had been removed and that the stone floor was the source of the chill.
Adrenaline shot through his body, jolting him back into a hyper-aware state. His muscles, though appearing to be unresponsive, had retained their innate ability to twitch and contract, causing him to shiver in the chill of the air.
His memory sluggish, he briefly recalled where he had been before here—the house— and remembered the pressure of the needle as it had punctured the skin of his neck and the soft call of insentience as it engulfed him.
