Read Online The Cutting Room: A Time Travel Thriller by Edward W. Robertson - Free Book Online Page B

reached for the buzzer. Before I could press it again, Yount's voice came through the intercom. "Yeah."
    "Looking to buy," I said.
    "This look like a department store?"
    "We're friends of Korry's."
    "Yeah?" Yount said. "What's your name?"
    "It matter?"
    "Know what, it doesn't. I wouldn't sell if you told me you were buddies with Kris Kringle."
    The line went dead. Vette shuffled her feet. I buzzed again, holding the button for three seconds.
    "Get off my doorstep before I take you off it in bags," Yount said.
    "Korry Haltur," I gambled. "He's dead."
    A long pause. "You police?"
    "Independent."
    Another pause. The light on the lock switched to open. I pushed through, Vette on my heels. The cramped foyer smelled like mildew and urine. The stairs creaked beneath me. Sloppy spraypaint fuzzed the walls. Behind me, Vette looked equal amounts compelled and disgusted.
    We reached Yount's floor. He opened the door before I could knock. He was small and smart-eyed and his skin seemed to be drawn too tight over his face, pronouncing his nose and teeth. His apartment smelled like spices and cooking oil. Paper books weighed down every available surface. Besides a shiny stereo and some less-shiny kitchen appliances, there were no identifiable electronics. The blinds were shut. A single bare overhead light interrupted the darkness.
    He stood in the door, blocking the way in. "What happened?"
    "We shouldn't talk out here." I gestured down the hall. "Don't know who's got ears."
    Yount snorted. "Who's gonna bug this termite mound?"
    "Given what happened? Nobody good."
    His face went guarded. He swore and stepped back. I smiled like you would at a funeral. He closed the door behind us. I got out my wand and waved it around the apartment, checking for bugs. It wasn't just for show.
    Yount watched me, sharp eyes trying to place my look, my bearing. "You Fed?"
    "We're not law." I finished my sweep, collapsed my wand, and returned it to my pocket. "Not any you need to worry about."
    "So Korry's dead."
    I fixed my eyes on his. "Overdose."
    He paled. Unless he had glandular implants, that wasn't a thing a man faked easy. "He ODed?"
    "Last night. Right after he saw you."
    Yount shook his head, dazed. He reached out behind him into empty space. "Why are you here?"
    "Korry was in danger. We were looking out for him."
    "Bullshit."
    "You fed him the dose. It was hot. The question is why."
    His face grew very careful. He glanced at Vette, then my hands. "Where does this go?"
    "Depends," I said. "Did you know?"
    "Locked-tight certain? No. Suspicious? Sure."
    "Where do you get your stuff?"
    He gave me a sick little smile. I thought I'd have to work it out of him, maybe physically, but it was like my question opened a valve that had been ready to burst for a long time. He sat on the stained couch and gazed into space.
    "Normally, I cook for myself," he said. "Korry's dose, they prepped it for me."
    "Who?" Vette said.
    "The daisu."
    "The daisu," I repeated, fishing.
    "I should have seen it coming." Yount spoke as if to himself. "My shit's the best in town. Because I cooked up the recipe. Thought I was darknet, too small to notice or care about, but they knew all along. It's blackmail. Link me to a body, then come calling for my recipe. You'll see."
    "If it came from the daisu, why'd you take the shot?"
    He closed his eyes and sighed. "They told me they were testing something new. Wanted to see if my best client could tell the difference—but didn't want to be tied to it themselves just yet. Didn't want to tip off the competition." He shook his head, eyes still closed. "They let me know they were fine letting me run my own shop, but this favor was one of the costs of doing business."
    "When the mob knocks, you answer," I said.
    "I should have known. I was just scared." He gazed at his hands. "Why Korry? Why burn his ticket?"
    "Maybe he owed," Vette said.
    "Wrong. Kid was rich. His card could crack the sidewalk."
    "You want to learn why?" I said. "Then give me a