Time Slip Read Online Free PDF

an enemy; and of course businesses who literally killed their competition. The businesses also paid the best, but they always wanted more than just the kill. They wanted secrets, usually in the form of data his employer desired stolen. This was his specialty, and what made him unique in his field. He took care of the hit and the data collection.
    His most recent client had kept him busy with contract after contract, all with tight deadlines, but in return for more and more money. Each time, they never hesitated to pay his price in full to his account in Monaco. It wasn’t that he needed the money; he had more than enough saved up for a few lifetimes of blissful retirement at his residence in the south of France, near Cannes. But, what would he do then? Killing people was what he did; it was who he was. If he wasn’t doing this, he didn’t know what he would do.
    It was time. Satisfied he had waited as long as he needed to, and his cigarette almost down to the filter, he flicked it out on the driveway, unconcerned about leaving an evidentiary trail—his DNA would not be found in any database, and rolled up his window.
    He stepped out and silently closed the door—the dome light remained off. He had pulled the fuse that controlled the interior lights so that his movement in and out of the vehicle was masked by the darkness. A twist of the suppressor on his FNP-45 Tactical, and he walked to the back of the home.

Chapter 13
    Aug 10 (00:40)
     
    Monty opened the door quickly, before the man knocked again, still trying to make sure his wife lay undisturbed—he didn’t want her to see what came next. He had watched the man approach the house and although he wasn’t sure who he was, he had his suspicions and figured it was time to pay for his part in this mess. The man on the other side thrust something metallic into Monty’s face; its shiny surface glistened in the moonlight.
    “Detective Johnson with the Dallas Police Department,” the voice behind the badge said before he withdrew it. He flipped it back into its case and then continued, “I’m sorry to bother you, sir, at this late hour. Are you Dr. Montgomery Meriweather?”
    “Ye-yes, I am,” Monty answered. He pulled the door closed behind him so that it would quiet their voices, in case his wife was not awake. His hands were sweaty and unstable. He held onto the door knob for support.
    “We are looking for a Dr. Ronald Stoneridge. Have you seen him?”
    “Ah… Not since yesterday. Why, is it his wife?” Monty’s voice was abnormally high-pitched, his throat dry. He licked his lips and shuddered slightly.
    “You were seen driving away from the”—Johnson pulled out his notepad, found what he was looking for, and continued—“Stoneridge Research Laboratory earlier this evening. Is Dr. Stoneridge with you?”
    “You’re welcome to come in and look.” Monty stepped away from the entrance but kept the door closed, his hand still on the knob, his heart steadying slightly. He might get out of this yet. “I was there this evening. Dr. Ron… I mean, Dr. Stoneridge had called me and asked me to look over his research project at the lab. I was there most of the day with him. I left him there and drove home. I’m just doing some work in my study.” He looked at Johnson’s eyes and hoped he hid the white lie well enough.
    “And what time did you leave Dr. Stoneridge?”
    “Ahhh, eight or so. Is he not at his lab? I would imagine he practically lives there.”
    “He’s not there. I’m headed to his home next, but you were on the way.”
    “That actually makes sense. I’m sure he’ll be there, then. His wife Betsy is home sick with the flu or something. I know he wanted to get back home and be with her.”
    “If he calls you, would you let him know that I have questions for him?”
    “I sure will. Have a good evening, detective.” After Monty took Johnson’s card, he slipped to the other side of the door.
    “Good night, Dr. Montgomery,” Johnson