Bzrk Apocalypse Read Online Free PDF

if
    he was invisible.
    He’d had the most beautiful girl in the world. Jessica. She’d been
    a slave to him. A slave. The memories made him ache inside. He
    would never get within conversational range of a girl like that again.
    Top of the world, that’s where he’d been. But all that was gone
    now. All that gone and now he was invisible to women and girls. He
    was a moderately attractive black teenage boy with no obvious signs
    of wealth or future prospects. Why would they look at him?
    He rounded a corner, walked glumly past aisles of this and that,
    entirely forgetting the pasta, ignoring the plastic-wrapped slabs of
    meat to one side, heading to onions.
    He felt rather than saw that something had changed.
    Instinct. Some sense that was not quite sight—sound, smell, or
    touch. The certainty that he was being watched. Without turning to
    look he knew he was being followed. His speed was being matched.
    31
    MICHAEL GRANT
    He walked slower, stopped, pretended to admire the lamb; but
    the presence did not pass him by.
    He moved suddenly toward the produce department, walking
    too fast, and he felt his pursuer keep pace.
    Well.
    Well. Ah. So. So was it cops or killers?
    His heart was heavy in his chest. His feet dragged a bit, just the
    toes scraping on the tile. Shit, he’d just started to think maybe he was
    out of it, that maybe the Armstrongs would let him go. He’d given
    them a lot of good work, after all.
    If not some hit man for the Armstrongs, was it police? Or even
    MI5?
    He stopped in front of a bin of oranges and rested his hand on
    one, just feeling it. He liked oranges. Was this the last one he would
    see for a long while? Or the last one ever?
    He turned, resigned, not seeing the point really in continuing to
    pretend. And there was his pursuer.
    Now surely that was not a cop or MI5.
    The man was well dressed, almost like a banker. Far too elegant
    looking to be a cop. He was a black man, tall, thin, with glasses, and
    when he met Anthony’s eyes he smiled. Like an old friend. At first
    Bug Man felt himself relaxing, but no, no, that was a bad idea. A smile
    meant nothing.
    “You want something?” Bug Man asked. His voice was ragged.
    Maybe the expensive suit hadn’t noticed.
    “Anthony Elder?”
    He nodded. What would be the point in lying?
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    BZRK APOCALYPSE
    What about running? He could surely outrun this man.
    “Are you here to kill me?”
    The man was not surprised by the question. “Not at this time.”
    He smiled. “But you will be taken for questioning by this time tomor-
    row.”
    “Haven’t done anything.”
    “Oh, come now, you know better than that. People of our particu-
    lar skin tone don’t need to be guilty of anything to be questioned by
    the police, now, do we?”
    Bug Man moved a step sideways, edging along the oranges. He
    spotted the onions. The white ones.
    “Met police will pick you up tomorrow, but of course it’s not
    really for themselves. They’ll turn you over to the Security Service, to
    MI5, for questioning.”
    The man moved closer so he could speak more quietly. He smelled
    of sandalwood and spearmint. Bug Man liked the cologne, didn’t like
    the man belonging to it. He had a ridiculous urge to ask him whether
    it was available for sale here at Tesco.
    “They will detain you on a secret warrant, and in all likelihood
    you will be given a chance to plead guilty so as to avoid a public trial.
    They’ll put out a statement accusing you of something like embezzle-
    ment. Something safe for public consumption. They’ll promise to let
    you out in a few years, and they would, really they would . Except that
    you’ll have been gutted by some hardened lifer in your cell long before
    that. They’ll make sure of that. If they don’t, their cousins will—the
    Americans.”
    Bug Man licked his lips. This was a threat, but not just a threat.
    33
    MICHAEL GRANT
    This was the beginning of an offer.
    “Whatever they want, the Twins, whatever they want, I’m still