Chaos Read Online Free PDF Page A

typical cell.
    The hands grabbed my sore wrists and freed them from the handcuffs. Then, the woolen bag was torn away from my head. Blinding light flooded into my eyes.
    Metal scratched against concrete and I heard a door slam behind me. Seconds later, the lock clicked.
    “Hello, Mr. Reed. Please have a seat.”
    The soft, fuzzy words reverberated in my ears. I didn’t recognize the voice, but I could sense its coolness, its strength. It was the voice of a leader. It was the voice of someone who wielded power.
    Tremendous power.
    “Give me a second,” I muttered. “It’s a tad bright in here.”
    “Of course. Take your time.”
    Rubbing my eyes, I racked my brain for a strategy. The man in front of me held my future in his hands. The right words, delivered with the right attitude might save my life. They might even give me back my freedom. But the wrong words or the wrong tone could worsen an already miserable situation.
    As my eyes adjusted to the light, I lifted my head and prepared to speak. But the room in front of me took my breath away.
    Dark wooden paneling covered the walls while an elaborate oriental carpet adorned the floor. Fine wooden tables, tall bookshelves filled with dusty volumes, and expensive sofas were tastefully positioned throughout the space. Antique lamps cast ridiculously soft light throughout the room, far softer than I’d realized. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought I was in a mansion.
    I lowered my eyes to the polished wooden desk that sat in front of me. A thin muscular man sat behind it, bathed in patches of light and shadow cast by the various lamps throughout the room. His eyes were small and brown, matching the mop of hair that topped his lined, tanned face. He wore an expensive pinstriped suit, complete with a dark red tie and white gloves over his hands. Every inch of him, except for his head, was covered with clothing.
    He was a man of obvious wealth and power, a man who knew how to get what he wanted. But I wasn’t intimidated.
    At least not totally.
    “Nice room,” I said nonchalantly. “Where are we exactly?”
    “A little ostentatious perhaps, but it serves my needs,” he replied. “As for our location, well, that’s my secret.”
    “Who are you?”
    “It’s Cyclone right? Cyclone Reed? Why don’t you sit down? We have much to discuss.”
    I remained standing. “Call me Cy. Who are you?”
    “Jack Chase.”
    “Nice to meet you. Now, can you give me one good reason why I shouldn’t march over there and beat the crap out of you?” I watched him carefully, looking for signs of fear or adrenaline. But I saw nothing.
    Instead, he leaned over the desk, picked up a crystal tumbler, and sipped it. I’d met some cool customers before, but Chase was in a league of his own.
    After a moment, he set the tumbler back on the desk. “My apologies. We were a little disingenuous with you.”
    “Disingenuous? More like blatantly dishonest. Your girl hired me to retrieve a priceless artifact under false pretenses. Did she even manage the previous dig or was that just a lie?”
    “She works for me. However, I’m arranging for the artifact you recovered to be delivered to the real archaeologist.”
    “That’s comforting,” I replied scornfully. “Oh, by the way, did she tell you the hell I went through to acquire that thing? And how she rewarded me with a Tasering?”
    “Beverly can be a bit of a handful,” he shrugged. “But she gets results. I asked her to test your limits, to see how far she could push you. And I must say, I’m extremely impressed.”
    Chase’s icy demeanor frustrated me. At the same time, I couldn’t help but feel curious about his motives. I sat down in a hand-carved wooden chair. “What do you want?”
    He held up a bottle and a tumbler. “Scotch?”
    “Sure.”
    He poured me a glass and passed it across the desk. Then he opened a file and flipped through it.
    “Cyclone Reed,” he read aloud. “Approximately thirty years old.