World of Trouble: The Last Policeman Book III (The Last Policeman Trilogy)

World of Trouble: The Last Policeman Book III (The Last Policeman Trilogy)

Ben H. Winters

Language: English

Pages: 320

ISBN: 1594746850

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

"[The] weird, beautiful, unapologetically apocalyptic Last Policeman trilogy is one of my favorite mystery series."—John Green, author of The Fault in Our Stars and Paper Towns

Critically acclaimed author Ben H. Winters delivers this explosive final installment in the Edgar Award winning Last Policeman series. With the doomsday asteroid looming, Detective Hank Palace has found sanctuary in the woods of New England, secure in a well-stocked safe house with other onetime members of the Concord police force. But with time ticking away before the asteroid makes landfall, Hank’s safety is only relative, and his only relative—his sister Nico—isn’t safe. Soon, it’s clear that there’s more than one earth-shattering revelation on the horizon, and it’s up to Hank to solve the puzzle before time runs out . . . for everyone.





















God!” Older men, younger men, girls and women, a legion of chattering children in long pants or long plain dresses, everyone embracing and gazing at me with excitement and frank fascination, their hands fluttering at their sides or raised high toward the rafters. Everybody singing out the happy news to each other, repeating the words “Alive!” and “Awake and well!” the news of my good health tossed joyfully about like rice at a wedding. The men seize my hand, one after another, young men and

crazy at this point, one way or another. “You’ll do just fine,” I tell her. “There will be space for you, because I’m leaving. The Night Bird will work out the details.” “The Night Bird?” “She’s great. You’ll see.” At last Abigail gets up and flaps open a giant black Hefty garbage bag and starts throwing things inside, clothes and guns and books and hairbrush and bedroll. She unclips her various armaments, leaving only the calf-sheath pistol and packing everything else in a rolling suitcase.

Atlee closes up the floor at 5:30. “Is this about five o’clock?” “I don’t know.” “Let’s say it’s five o’clock. She tells you she’s leaving and you did what?” “I mean, I told her it was insane.” She shakes her head, and for an instant I see reflected in her eyes this incredulous exasperation that I myself have felt a thousand times, trying to tell Nico anything she doesn’t want to hear. “Just—useless. I said, why would you want to leave for nothing and be alone, when we can all be together? At

album Desire, and for a brief period when I was about fifteen or sixteen it was my favorite Bob Dylan song. It was around that time Nico discovered a journal in which I had carefully recorded my top twenty Dylan numbers, each annotated with the year written and the performers on the track. Nico found something hysterical about the fastidiousness of this particular exercise, and she ran around the house, dying with laughter, tossing the notebook up and down to herself like a chimpanzee. It’s

predictions as to what exactly happens, postimpact: how much volcanic activity and where; how fast the seas will rise and how high; how long it will take for the sun to be dimmed by ash and for how long it will remain shrouded. But on the core fact there is consensus: the asteroid 2011GV1, known as Maia, measuring six and a half kilometers in diameter and traveling at a speed of between thirty-five thousand and forty thousand miles per hour, will make landfall in Indonesia, at an angle from

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