Chase Baker & the Humanzees from Hell (A Chase Baker Thriller Book 8) Read Online Free PDF

true,” Hillary says.
    I show her a bloody grin. “And I can assure you, it’s going to take a lot for me to think something is strange.”
    With that, Hillary makes par and then some.

 
    8.
     
    While I snap my nose back into place, Hillary fills the gaps of what I already know about the Minnesota Iceman. She purchased the supposed creature from an anonymous source in contact with the Hansen family, who kept a tight lip about its true origins. After Hillary finished the final payment, she received one piece of advice: never thaw the creature out. So long as the Iceman rested within that block of ice, no one could prove or disprove its authenticity.
    “Why’d you want the Iceman in the first place?” I say.
    “This, pardon my French, shitty little museum was up for sale, and I always wanted to be a curator. So my partner and I cashed out our retirements and bought the place. The Iceman gave us a safety net. We knew we could get people through the door. With a steady source of revenue, the plan was to expand the museum into something bigger than an emporium of hokey stuffed animals and rubber aliens,” Hillary says.
    “Partner? Where is this person?” I say.
    “She prefers to invest her money from a distance,” she says. “Especially after the visits started.”
    “Visits?” I say, stepping aside so the bikers can take a communal piss outside the shed.
    According to Hillary, the first person through the door to see the Iceman wasn’t a tourist but a bald-headed man in a black suit with a thick Russian accent. He didn’t hide the fact he worked for the Russian government, and he insisted he be allowed exclusive access to the Iceman. Hillary, not about to risk the centerpiece of her investment, called the police. However, the man in the suit left before officers could arrive, promising Hillary he’d be back.
    “Other than to keep the legend of the Iceman a mystery, there’s a good reason the Hansen family told me not to thaw the creature out. It’s to keep the wrong people from getting too close to it. Better to stick it in a museum full of hoaxes so that it can be dismissed as a fake,” Hillary says. “People said the creature went missing back in the day, only to resurface when I bought it. That’s only half true. The Hansen family wanted the creature out of sight, because they were becoming targets of these visits from Russian agents.”
    I take it all back. This was worth the trip down here.
    “What would the Russian government want with the Iceman?” I say.
    “I don’t know, but this bald-headed man, he came back several times. He offered me money, real estate, anything I wanted. He always wanted the same thing in return: exclusive access to the Iceman. I called the FBI about it because this was all so strange, but they laughed me off the phone, told me to stop watching so much X-Files . I had no choice but to turn to the Bandidos for protection,” Hillary says.
    “Let me guess: your Russian visitor stopped in after hours,” I say.
    Hillary nods. “The Iceman and its freezer are gone. Happened a few nights ago when the Bandidos were away. I’d go broke paying for protection around the clock. It looks like I will anyway. Without the Iceman, the Museum of the Bizarre isn’t much more than a glorified gift shop.”
    I grunt as I lean over to retrieve my .45 and the ESEE knife. At least the bikers didn’t walk off with them. That’s the thing with one-percenters. Are they violent, despicable people? Absolutely. But they’re also rational actors. They do exactly what you pay them to do.
    That’s the difference between organized crime and a gaggle of idiots with inflated egos. The neo-Nazis I faced down while searching for a Viking runestone fell into the latter category. That’s why they’re all dead now and these bikers are presently urinating on the side of the storage shed. Focus matters.
    I could say the same for myself. I need to know why I’m here in the first place.
    “Now it’s