Read Online Spark: A Novel by John Twelve Hawks - Free Book Online
Authors: John Twelve Hawks
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Carolina by former police officers and intelligence operatives. We would spend a great deal of money to teach you the necessary skills.”
“What about the police? Won’t they track me down?”
“If you join our team, we’ll give you a new identity. Our friends in Homeland Security will inform the EYE system that you have a Certified Anomaly Profile. That means your behavior could fall outside normal perimeters and you won’t be tagged.”
“Perhaps I could learn the skills, but I’ve never ‘neutralized’ someone before.”
“Why should that bother you? Are you really going to pretend that you have any kind of morality or that you care about the law? You’re dead, Mr. Davis. Is that correct?”
“I—I have been transformed.”
“There’s nothing wrong with thinking that you’re dead, but if you’re walking around New York City you’re going to need money. The bank would pay you enough to create a safe, stable environment. Earlier in our conversation, you said that you didn’t like to be touched. Only rich people live in a world where they have complete control over who touches them.”
I got up from the chair. “Let me think about this.”
“Of course. It’s a major decision. Once you make up your mind, you can send me an e-mail. In the meantime …” She took a second envelope out of the attaché case and placed it on the desk. “Here’s your second payment for listening to my presentation.”
My right hand floated above the envelope. Then I picked it up and placed it in my coat pocket.
Miss Holquist smiled, showing her teeth. They were white and perfectly aligned. “Now that was easy. Wasn’t it?”
The town car from the airport passed beneath the East River, glided up a ramp, and emerged into the sunlight. Yesterday, I was in the English countryside watching a man bleed to death, and now I was traveling through Manhattan. Bright yellow taxicabs maneuvered around each other while the drivers hunched forward and gripped their steering wheels. Within the cabs, the passengers felt as if they were going somewhere. But if you gazed down on the traffic from one of the towers, it looked like yellow particles moving randomly through the narrow streets.
The car traveled up Madison to East Sixtieth Street and pulled over to the curb. “Now what?” I asked the driver.
“Suite 2160, sir. Don’t forget to take your luggage.”
I entered the building and gave my name to the security guard at the front desk. The elevator felt like a windowless cell with a surveillance camera at the top corner watching my movements. Was someone waiting for me? Was I about to be arrested? My Spark became a bright point of red light as I walked down a hallway and opened a door.
Lorcan Tate was sprawled on a couch in the reception room. He was watching a movie on a tablet computer, but when he saw me he froze the image on the screen. Lorcan was another one of Miss Holquist’s enforcers. We had spent three months together at the training camp in North Carolina. For most of that time, we ignored each other—until the incident with the dog.
“Finally! The dead man appears!” Lorcan sat up and stared at me. “So what were you eating in London? Did you break down and buy real food?”
“I always carry a ten-day supply of nourishment.”
“
Nourishment?
Are you still talking about that drink they make for old people in nursing homes?” He laughed. “Of course the whole thing doesn’t make sense. If you were really dead, you wouldn’t need any food at all.”
Lorcan got up from the couch and sauntered across the room. He was a big man, tall and heavy, with long hair that had a russet color. I couldn’t interpret the emotions on his face, but I could feel his energy. I once saw a painting of St. Sebastian—his half-naked body pierced with spears and arrows. Lorcan displayed the complete opposite of this image. Invisible blades of all kinds pushed out of his body and jabbed at the world.
“Where’s
“What about the police? Won’t they track me down?”
“If you join our team, we’ll give you a new identity. Our friends in Homeland Security will inform the EYE system that you have a Certified Anomaly Profile. That means your behavior could fall outside normal perimeters and you won’t be tagged.”
“Perhaps I could learn the skills, but I’ve never ‘neutralized’ someone before.”
“Why should that bother you? Are you really going to pretend that you have any kind of morality or that you care about the law? You’re dead, Mr. Davis. Is that correct?”
“I—I have been transformed.”
“There’s nothing wrong with thinking that you’re dead, but if you’re walking around New York City you’re going to need money. The bank would pay you enough to create a safe, stable environment. Earlier in our conversation, you said that you didn’t like to be touched. Only rich people live in a world where they have complete control over who touches them.”
I got up from the chair. “Let me think about this.”
“Of course. It’s a major decision. Once you make up your mind, you can send me an e-mail. In the meantime …” She took a second envelope out of the attaché case and placed it on the desk. “Here’s your second payment for listening to my presentation.”
My right hand floated above the envelope. Then I picked it up and placed it in my coat pocket.
Miss Holquist smiled, showing her teeth. They were white and perfectly aligned. “Now that was easy. Wasn’t it?”
The town car from the airport passed beneath the East River, glided up a ramp, and emerged into the sunlight. Yesterday, I was in the English countryside watching a man bleed to death, and now I was traveling through Manhattan. Bright yellow taxicabs maneuvered around each other while the drivers hunched forward and gripped their steering wheels. Within the cabs, the passengers felt as if they were going somewhere. But if you gazed down on the traffic from one of the towers, it looked like yellow particles moving randomly through the narrow streets.
The car traveled up Madison to East Sixtieth Street and pulled over to the curb. “Now what?” I asked the driver.
“Suite 2160, sir. Don’t forget to take your luggage.”
I entered the building and gave my name to the security guard at the front desk. The elevator felt like a windowless cell with a surveillance camera at the top corner watching my movements. Was someone waiting for me? Was I about to be arrested? My Spark became a bright point of red light as I walked down a hallway and opened a door.
Lorcan Tate was sprawled on a couch in the reception room. He was watching a movie on a tablet computer, but when he saw me he froze the image on the screen. Lorcan was another one of Miss Holquist’s enforcers. We had spent three months together at the training camp in North Carolina. For most of that time, we ignored each other—until the incident with the dog.
“Finally! The dead man appears!” Lorcan sat up and stared at me. “So what were you eating in London? Did you break down and buy real food?”
“I always carry a ten-day supply of nourishment.”
“
Nourishment?
Are you still talking about that drink they make for old people in nursing homes?” He laughed. “Of course the whole thing doesn’t make sense. If you were really dead, you wouldn’t need any food at all.”
Lorcan got up from the couch and sauntered across the room. He was a big man, tall and heavy, with long hair that had a russet color. I couldn’t interpret the emotions on his face, but I could feel his energy. I once saw a painting of St. Sebastian—his half-naked body pierced with spears and arrows. Lorcan displayed the complete opposite of this image. Invisible blades of all kinds pushed out of his body and jabbed at the world.
“Where’s
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