Read Online Third Transmission by Jack Heath - Free Book Online

don’t inhale while the cigarette is lit.’
    Six examined the cigarette doubtfully. ‘What would happen?’
    â€˜Assuming you don’t choke on the beacon?’ Jack said. ‘The melting EVA, the heated Teflon and the burning end of the tube all release toxic gases. If you inhale them, you’ll get tumours in your mouth, your throat and your lungs, and probably cardiomyopathy and hypoxemia or hypercapnoea as well.’ He shrugged. ‘Basically your heart and respiratory systems will become purely decorative. Just like what happens with normal cigarettes, except instantly. You’d be dead in maybe thirty minutes.’
    â€˜Won’t this look weird?’ Six asked. ‘Hardly anyone smokes anymore.’
    Jack raised an eyebrow. ‘If you’ve got a better way to disguise a blowpipe, I’d like to hear it. I’ve also put a pin in your right trouser pocket for picking locks, and a flashbang in the left pocket. That’s a stun grenade, which –’
    â€˜I know what a flashbang does,’ Six interrupted. ‘And even if I didn’t, the name would make it pretty obvious. Flash, bang. Stop wasting my time.’
    â€˜It’s only small,’ Jack said, ignoring him, ‘but it should disorient an enemy combatant for ten or twelve seconds. Just don’t look at it after you throw. It has a two-second fuse.’
    Six pocketed the cigarettes, the phone and the bag of beacons. There was a strap of black cloth in the jacket pocket. He stared at it.
    â€˜That’s a bow tie,’ Jack said, rolling his eyes. ‘Let me do it.’
    Six lifted his head and stared at the ceiling while Jack fiddled with his collar.
    â€˜All done,’ Jack said. He held up a multicoloured bunch of handkerchiefs. ‘Do you know what colour dress Ace will be wearing?’
    â€˜Why?’
    Jack stared, like it was obvious. ‘So you can pick a matching kerchief!’
    Enough was enough. ‘Jack, it’s a mission, not a high-school dance,’ Six snapped. ‘Just give me the white one.’
    â€˜Fine. But when you’re at the party and you’re looking great, just remember that you could have looked
spectacular
.’
    Six sat down in the makeup chair. ‘Get on with it,’ he said.

    Since learning about the telomeres in his DNA that could keep him alive forever, Six had been thinking about luck.
    He didn’t normally think of himself as a lucky person. He’d been created in a world with toxic air and no sun. His parents were a mad scientist and a murderous corporation. Every single day for as long as he could remember, people had been trying to hurt or kill him.
    But he was aware of the fact that many times in his life, nothing more than random chance had stood between himself and oblivion. And every time so far, chance had been on his side. There had been thousands of opportunities for his life to be snuffed out, and he’d walked away from each and every one.
    His problem was that once you start to believe in luck, you start to worry about it running out.
    Kyntak’s office door was up ahead. Six pushed it open. ‘Hi,’ he said.
    Kyntak was sitting in his chair in an old pair of jeans and a crinkled T-shirt. The slogan on the front read:
Who are you calling self-obsessed? (It’s me, right?).
He appeared to be typing on his computer, but Six suspected he was playing videogames.
    â€˜Most people knock,’ Kyntak said. He didn’t seem surprised that Six looked ten years older and was wearing a tuxedo.
    â€˜Your door’s never locked,’ Six replied. ‘And whenever I knock, you tell me to go away because you’re busy, then I come in anyway. I’m just saving time.’
    Kyntak grinned. ‘You’re taking efficiency to a whole new level.’
    â€˜Right.’
    Kyntak tapped a couple more keys and switched off his monitor. ‘You on your way somewhere?’ He gestured