Read Online The Blueprint (The Upgrade Book 1) by Wesley Cross - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Wesley Cross
Tags: General Fiction
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to stop.
They put her onto her knees, facing her husband, a blank expression on her face, a trickle of blood running down her thighs.
“You can do so much better than him, honey,” Johnny said zipping his pants, “but I hear divorce is a difficult thing these days. So I figure I’d help you out a bit, you know? For your hospitality.”
He picked up his machete off the floor, turned to her husband, and went to work.
CHAPTER 11
Chuck Kowalsky parked the unmarked car by a hydrant and turned off the engine.
“Did you hear,” said Ryan, flipping through the morning paper, “Jim Norton shot himself?”
“Who’s Jim Norton?” asked Chuck without much interest.
“He was the CEO of Red Cell Tech. Seemed like a pretty cool guy. I heard that back in a day his son died from some rare blood disease, and he vowed that he wouldn’t let that happen to any other parent. So he went on to found this company and turned it into a multibillion-dollar behemoth. Cured a lot of kids in the process. Took care of people who worked for him too,.”
“So why’d he shoot himself?” Said Kowalsky, getting out of the car.
“Lost his company.” Bill got out of the car as well and spat on the sidewalk. “Hostile takeover.”
“You have way too much time on your hands, to read stuff like that.”
Ryan just shrugged as they walked.
Chuck took in his surroundings, It was a well-to-do part of town and the streets were relatively clean, yet he couldn’t help but notice the signs of decay even here. Graffiti stained wall here, a broken window there; it didn’t take a detective to see that the city was getting worse every year. As they got closer to the apartment building where Andrew Hunt had lived, a skinny young man separated himself from an old truck he was leaning against and moved to the sidewalk, blocking their way.
“Yo, gotta pay here.” He showed them a small blade sticking from the sleeve of his dirty jacket. Kowalsky and Ryan stopped in their tracks, looking the guy up and down.
“Why don’t you move your dirty ass out of my way,” suggested Ryan cheerfully.
“Yo, why don’t you pay me so you can keep your face, pretty boy?” quipped the man, now showing his blade fully and moving it in a sideway motion. “You too fatty.”
“He called you fat,” happily observed Ryan.
“I heard that,” said Kowalsky, pulling his standard issue Glock out of the holster and aiming at the man’s knees. “I have a theory, though.”
“Oh, I have a theory of my own,” said Bill pulling out his own gun as well.
“You saw me tripping partner, right?” Kowalsky curled his lips into a smile.
“Yep, he pushed you, and you fell right on your big stomach. Chuck, you have to watch your diet.”
“And as I fell, my gun went off, twice,” continued Chuck, “unfortunate that I hit his knee caps, crippled the poor bastard for life.”
The young man threw his hands into the air, looking scared.
“Yo, yo, yo, I’m cool man, I’m cool, take it easy.” He started to back off, then broke into a run.
The partners watched the man disappear.
“We should have arrested him, you know that, right?”
“I thought we were just window shopping,” said Ryan unperturbed and continued to walk.
The apartment building where the late Andrew Hunt used to live was the cleanest building on the block. A gray-haired doorman held the door for them as they entered the lobby with a tall cathedral ceiling. A huge beautiful chandelier gave off a warm yellow glow.
They were stopped at the visitor’s desk by another silver-haired gentleman and showed their credentials.
“We’d like to talk to the current occupants of PH10, if possible,” said Chuck, not hoping for much luck.
“I’m afraid that would be impossible,” said the man, frowning. “Mr. Hunt took his wife to the hospital yesterday and hasn’t been back since.”
“Jason is in town?” improvised Chuck, smiling. “I didn’t know that.”
“You know Mr. Hunt?” asked
They put her onto her knees, facing her husband, a blank expression on her face, a trickle of blood running down her thighs.
“You can do so much better than him, honey,” Johnny said zipping his pants, “but I hear divorce is a difficult thing these days. So I figure I’d help you out a bit, you know? For your hospitality.”
He picked up his machete off the floor, turned to her husband, and went to work.
CHAPTER 11
Chuck Kowalsky parked the unmarked car by a hydrant and turned off the engine.
“Did you hear,” said Ryan, flipping through the morning paper, “Jim Norton shot himself?”
“Who’s Jim Norton?” asked Chuck without much interest.
“He was the CEO of Red Cell Tech. Seemed like a pretty cool guy. I heard that back in a day his son died from some rare blood disease, and he vowed that he wouldn’t let that happen to any other parent. So he went on to found this company and turned it into a multibillion-dollar behemoth. Cured a lot of kids in the process. Took care of people who worked for him too,.”
“So why’d he shoot himself?” Said Kowalsky, getting out of the car.
“Lost his company.” Bill got out of the car as well and spat on the sidewalk. “Hostile takeover.”
“You have way too much time on your hands, to read stuff like that.”
Ryan just shrugged as they walked.
Chuck took in his surroundings, It was a well-to-do part of town and the streets were relatively clean, yet he couldn’t help but notice the signs of decay even here. Graffiti stained wall here, a broken window there; it didn’t take a detective to see that the city was getting worse every year. As they got closer to the apartment building where Andrew Hunt had lived, a skinny young man separated himself from an old truck he was leaning against and moved to the sidewalk, blocking their way.
“Yo, gotta pay here.” He showed them a small blade sticking from the sleeve of his dirty jacket. Kowalsky and Ryan stopped in their tracks, looking the guy up and down.
“Why don’t you move your dirty ass out of my way,” suggested Ryan cheerfully.
“Yo, why don’t you pay me so you can keep your face, pretty boy?” quipped the man, now showing his blade fully and moving it in a sideway motion. “You too fatty.”
“He called you fat,” happily observed Ryan.
“I heard that,” said Kowalsky, pulling his standard issue Glock out of the holster and aiming at the man’s knees. “I have a theory, though.”
“Oh, I have a theory of my own,” said Bill pulling out his own gun as well.
“You saw me tripping partner, right?” Kowalsky curled his lips into a smile.
“Yep, he pushed you, and you fell right on your big stomach. Chuck, you have to watch your diet.”
“And as I fell, my gun went off, twice,” continued Chuck, “unfortunate that I hit his knee caps, crippled the poor bastard for life.”
The young man threw his hands into the air, looking scared.
“Yo, yo, yo, I’m cool man, I’m cool, take it easy.” He started to back off, then broke into a run.
The partners watched the man disappear.
“We should have arrested him, you know that, right?”
“I thought we were just window shopping,” said Ryan unperturbed and continued to walk.
The apartment building where the late Andrew Hunt used to live was the cleanest building on the block. A gray-haired doorman held the door for them as they entered the lobby with a tall cathedral ceiling. A huge beautiful chandelier gave off a warm yellow glow.
They were stopped at the visitor’s desk by another silver-haired gentleman and showed their credentials.
“We’d like to talk to the current occupants of PH10, if possible,” said Chuck, not hoping for much luck.
“I’m afraid that would be impossible,” said the man, frowning. “Mr. Hunt took his wife to the hospital yesterday and hasn’t been back since.”
“Jason is in town?” improvised Chuck, smiling. “I didn’t know that.”
“You know Mr. Hunt?” asked
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