Saboteur: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

brewing since early morning sped past. To the
man in the cloak they looked like ragged soldiers marching off to war, an army
of ghosts. He pulled the hood of his tunic up just slightly to see them better.
The boy sitting in the carriage looked out to him and thought he saw a fresh
tear suddenly race down the man’s cheek, and then another.
    “Are you injured, sir?” the boy
inquired. “Are you hurt?”
    “I’m not injured, but I am hurt. I
will survive as I always do. It is you I rather worry about, my son.”
    And with that the man in the cloak
wrapped his hands around the boy’s throat, almost lovingly, and in one sudden
spasm snapped him at the nape of his neck. The boy’s eyes rolled back in his
head as a gush of blood poured from his mouth and nose. The man squeezed with
all his might, until the last of the air escaped the lungs and the boy’s frail
body went limp. It had taken no more than a few seconds. The man walked to the
back of the carriage pulling out a large rug, which he methodically unrolled.
The boy’s body fit perfectly and once rolled, you would never guess anything or
anyone was inside. Leaning over the edge of the bridge, he thrust it over,
where it smacked against the slow moving water below. He looked to his left and
to his right again slowly. An old woman sat perched in filth very near to the
bridge’s edge. He hadn’t noticed her before.
    She yelled in his direction, “I
seen what ya’ done. I knows what yer up to.”
    The man simply ignored her and
stared out instead across the point on the horizon where the river disappeared.
The sun blazed a crimson red, but a razor thin slice of moon could be seen low
in the sky.
    “No, I doubt you do, old woman,” he
muttered. “I doubt you do.”

 
    Chapter 5

 
    Case 1032

 
    Sullivan walked into the office, which had “Chief of Police,
Robert P. Tierney” inscribed in gold lettering on the door.
    “Detective Sullivan, welcome to
SDPD,” came a voice from across the room. “Have a seat. I’m Bob Tierney.” He
began to sit, but Tierney extended a handshake bringing him to his feet again.
“I hope they weren’t too rough on you out there. A little hazing is good for
everybodys’ morale around here from time to time. That Rodriguez is a piece of
work, isn’t she?”
    Sullivan managed an awkward smile.
    “One of the best we have, to be
honest.”
    Tierney slid a pair of bifocals up
the bridge of his nose and pulled at a stack of papers, which he had clearly
been reading on his desk.
    “Says here and I quote, ‘you have
been the most decorated officer on the force and your skills as a detective,
your intuition are unrivaled.’ Now I have to ask myself what would compel a
curmudgeon like Carl Dickson to say such a thing if it wasn’t true? And yet
here you are. Page two is brief, but far more telling if you ask me,” Tierney
said raising his eyebrows and tilting his head. “I’m quoting again, ‘has
self-control issues, and though they haven’t had direct bearing on his work
with the force, risks seriously compromising the moral and civic values
expected of all officers in the city of Richmond.’ Tierney chuckled. “Sounds
like a pretty personal beef to me, especially if I know Carl like I think I do.
I’ll bet you got into his cookie jar and stole some sweets huh?” An awkward
pause followed. He started to speak but Tierney cut him off.
    “Have you read your Emerson
detective?” Tierney shifted in his seat, looked up and pointed to a framed
picture on the wall. It was one of those ancient and faded frames filled in
with old yarn cross-stitching, which read, “A man must never be too moral, lest
he miss out on the finer things in life.”
    “I don’t know, sir, I don’t read
much to be honest,” he answered.
    “That’s too goddamned bad. A man who
won’t read is a fool. Reading improves the soul and teaches refinement.”
Tierney seemed to reconsider for a moment and then waived his hands through the
air with