The Chop Shop Read Online Free PDF

to
get some lunch,” David said.
    One of the
policemen stopped them on the way out. He pushed a card folder into Michael's
hands. “Preliminary report. Don't ask me how, but somebody managed to pull a
single image from the camera drives. We're still waiting to see if they can
clean the picture up. Have fun. I reckon you'll last a day tops before you give
up.”
    He flicked
straight to the black and white picture. The image was broken up with strips of
print banding, and the paper still felt damp from the ink application. It came
from the first interior camera, dark, blurry with just enough definition to
show a single figure gripping a submachine gun in his hand.
    The shot had
caught the muzzle flare at full intensity. Michael inhaled slowly through the
nose. He felt the others crowding around him for a better look. The gunman was
tall, dressed in a trench coat that sagged from pockets full of ammunition.
Rifles and shotguns hung off his shoulders by their straps.
    “One guy. Just
like you said,” Richard said.
    Helen tutted.
“He's not even flinching. Look at those eyes; creepy as hell.”

Chapter 3.
     
    The gunman was
still on his mind when he sat down in the cafeteria. Rickety chairs and unclean
tables reminded him of the lunch hall at school. All it needed now was a bowl
of dessert with a few strands of the dinner lady's hair and a broken nail or
two in it to complete the illusion.
    Michael opened
the folder and scattered the papers across the table, before unwrapping his
cheese sandwiches. He took a bite, chewed, and found his gaze drawn back to the
set of photos. There were four now, cleaned up and printed on matte-surface card.
Three of them came from security cameras at a commercial supply lift.
    The man's eyes
seemed as off in these photos as the first. They had an emptiness to them,
sometimes seeming like cat eyes when the light caught them at a certain angle.
A final shot caught him riding the lift down, radio in hand, but minus the
guns.
    A shadow loomed
over the photographs. “Mind if I sit?”
    Michael glanced
up and recognised her as the blonde woman from the office. He nodded, gathering
up the papers and stacking them to one side. “Sure.”
    She flashed him
a brief sickly smile and sat down in the opposite chair. “I'm Samantha. That
argument earlier wasn't the best of introductions. Things have a habit of
getting heated in there very easily. Sorry, just call me Sam.”
    “It's fine. I'm
Michael,” he said, shaking her hand across the table.
    Sam looked at
his sandwiches. “I wouldn't eat the food here either. You can get away with the
pre-packaged stuff if you're desperate; they make it off site. How has your
first day been here?”
    “Strange is
probably a good word. To tell you the truth, I liked it better at my previous
station. Before the part where somebody took it upon themselves to remodel the
building with high-explosives. A lot of good people worked there.”
    She brushed away
a strand of hair that had slipped loose from her hair band. “Sorry, I shouldn't
have brought it up. Looks like you've already got yourself a new case.”
    Michael showed
her the photographs. “Bits and pieces of one. A lot of bodies, but not much to
go on.”
    Sam grimaced at
the sight of them. “Grizzly stuff. What's up with those eyes? They look
terrible. I don't envy you on this one, or any of them, actually. Filing
reports on this stuff in admin is enough for me.”
    “You're not the
first person to have mentioned the eyes. I don't know, though. Before the war
people were managing to do some pretty advanced stuff with eyes, but now? Not
so much. I think it's too early to make a judgement. Bad for the investigation.
Look at this last one, though. All those floodlights around the lift. His eyes
are doing something there, like they're reacting in some way.”
    “Well, here's
hoping that neither of us run into him in a dark alley.”
    Michael nodded.
“Agreed, but I expect it's a contract hit of some kind.