The Credulity Nexus Read Online Free PDF Page A

a
quick look up and down the empty street, then he stepped back a
pace and kicked in the door. The door frame splintered and the door
slammed inwards. Rik hurried after it into a dingy hallway.
    There was a
staircase on the left to the floor above and three doors on the
right, all standing open. A skinny teenage boy with a mop of pink
hair, black jeans and a loose, hole-filled jumper made a dash from
the second door along, heading for the back of the house. Rick had
him by the neck before the boy made it out of the hallway.
    They struggled
in silence for a few moments before the boy seemed to realise that
he didn't stand a chance against this huge and heavily-muscled
stranger. Perhaps it had also dawned on the boy that the stranger
hadn't broken his neck, which probably meant he was safe for the
moment.
    “Whatcha
want?” The boy's accent was clearly local and completely untouched
by any education the state may have tried to force into him.
    “I'm looking
for Barry. Just tell me where he is and stop screwing around.”
    The boy eyed
him speculatively. “You're a Yank, ain't ya? Whatcha want Barry
for?”
    Rik took the
boy by the scruff and dragged him into one of the rooms. Among the
clutter that covered every surface, he found a battered old sofa
and shoved the boy onto it. “Just tell me where to find Barry. This
is his house, right?”
    “What if it
is?”
    The boy made a
move to get back up on his feet, but quickly subsided when Rik
shoved him down again.
    Rik felt anger
rising in him. The last thing he wanted right now was to be messed
about by this scrawny kid. A snarl curled his lip and he took a
step towards the boy.
    “All right,
all right. Yeah, it's Ocky's house. So what?”
    “So just tell
me where he is, you little shit!”
    A look of low
cunning crossed the boy's face. “What's it worth?”
    It was
necessary to explain to the young man that this was not the time to
get cute. With a roar, Rik grabbed him by the front of his tatty
jumper and hauled him into the air. He swung him around
effortlessly and slammed him against a wall, pushing him so high
that his head hit the low ceiling. “Don't piss me off, you little
rat.”
    “He's
dead.”
    “What?” This
was not the answer Rik wanted. He pushed the boy harder against the
wall.
    “He's
dead!”
    “How? When?”
Already Rik's mind was running along several tracks at once. Was
Ockenden's death anything to do with the package? Where would Rik
go now? Who was there he could trust? Did this little maggot have
something to do with his friend's death? If he did...
    “He was shot,”
the boy whined, finding it hard to speak with his neck bent
sideways. “He got mixed up in some fight outside the pub a couple
of weeks ago. Some fucker shot him.”
    “Who?”
    “How would I
know? Could've been anybody. People are always getting shot round
here.”
    Ockenden was
dead. The fact began to sink into Rik's awareness like a rock
falling through dark, deep water. They'd served together in the
LAPD for five years. Partners. Ockenden was as tough as old
leather. Indestructible. And now he was dead, killed in a stupid
brawl like some street punk.
    Absent-mindedly, he lowered the boy and tossed him back onto the
sofa. The lad watched him carefully but said nothing. Long seconds
ticked by.
    “Who are you,
and what are you doing here?” Rik asked, remembering the boy
again.
    “Skiver,” the
boy said, his expression sullen. “I was Ocky's mate. He let me
crash here. Who the fuck are you?”
    Rik looked
back at the scrawny specimen on the sofa. It would be just like
Ockenden to take in some deadbeat kid and put him up. Maybe Skiver
was telling the truth. He let his anger subside a little.
    “Call me Rik.
Ockenden and me used to be partners, a long time ago.”
    The kid eyed
him curiously. Then he got off the sofa and went over to a chest of
drawers. From the top drawer, he pulled out a reader. He fiddled
with the thin, plastic sheet for a moment and then showed it