Ascendant Saga Collection: Sci-Fi Fantasy Techno Thriller Brandon Ellis (ebook reader for comics txt) 📖

Drew tapped his knuckles against his teeth, struggling with his reply. He knew the name, of course and Keith had to know he knew, because he’d listened to Anne’s messages. But with Anne’s death, saying that name out loud had just become a whole lot more dangerous. He didn’t want Keith or anyone else to think it was a big deal. “Not really. His name came up in a routine story I’m working on…” The weed hadn’t addled his brain, but neither was he at his sharpest. He paused for too long. “Just a story on space exploration and shit. You know how well that sells, especially now, with all the cuts.”

“Well, all I know is, he’s some guy associated with the Global Safety Administration. I think he is the head.”

Drew walked to the dining room table and took a seat. “How did Ann take her life?”

“Heroin overdose. She had a needle stuck in her arm when she was found. The dose was apparently three hundred times the lethal amount, but it’s an ongoing investigation. They haven’t ruled anything out.”

Drew had reported on drug beats before and he knew the police’s drill. “Then they haven’t actually ruled it a suicide?”

“No.”

“Any signs of a struggle?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t heard anything more.”

“I’ll take a look at it when the time is right. The police will be quiet on it for a while until their discovery is complete.”

“I’d appreciate that, Drew. Her family would appreciate it.”

“I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Yeah, me too. We’ll get through this.” His voice cracked again.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

They said their goodbyes and Drew stared at his phone, assessing the situation. He’d never met Ann, but she’d never slurred her speech or nodded off during their phone calls. She never complained of constant sickness, or a running nose, or nausea. Being phone friends wasn’t the most reliable way to notice someone’s addiction, but she didn’t strike him as a heroin addict.

To say nothing of the fact that three hundred times the amount above the dangerous level seemed excessive, even for someone trying to commit suicide. Could they even function pass the fifty times above dangerous mark? Wasn’t that the very definition of “overkill?”

His phone vibrated again. An unlisted number. He put it down and let it go to voicemail. He was late on bills and after a certain number of calls, bill collectors usually stopped leaving voicemails, so no harm no foul.

The voicemail sound beeped and his head flinched back slightly.

He picked up his phone and listened to his voicemail.

“Mr. Avera. You have never met me and you never will. Please stop your investigation. If you don’t know what I’m speaking about, then know that we have Kaden Jaxx and access to his emails. He is no longer alive. The more people you contact, the less chance they have of surviving.”

The man hung up.

Drew’s hand went limp and his phone fell to his lap. “What the hell?”

He went to his window and stared at the street, the people walking by, and the cars parked next to the sidewalks. Nothing out of the ordinary. No unmarked cars and no government license plates. He shut the curtains and the room became darker.

He stared at his own hands, wondering how he could get himself into such a predicament. Uncle Jaxx is dead? Is the guy on the voicemail lying to me? Is Ann dead because of me?

He went back to the laptop, giving it a distant and empty stare. He covered his face with his hands, trying to figure out his next step. “I can’t do this.”

He started closing the images Jaxx had sent him.

World News Network!

If anyone could keep him safe, it would be the largest news network in the world. If he could get this information out just like Jaxx had asked him, then the big target wouldn’t just be on his back, it would be on Colonel Slade Roberson’s or GSA’s. In fact, this was probably the safest route. If he was killed for some reason or another, the suspicion would be put squarely on GSA and the Colonel. There was no telling if he was safe, or would be safe, even if he erased all the photos. In one way, Jaxx had given Drew the greatest story of this century, perhaps of all time, but on the other hand, he’d just delivered Drew a death sentence. The only way out was to call Hobbs Howell, the Executive Vice President of Corporate Marketing and Communications for World News Network.

He pulled the photos back up, then printed each one off, hearing them fall to the floor after each picture ran through the printer.

Drew picked his phone back up and dialed Hobbs Howell’s number. It was time to make another splash in the world.

16

May 30thUnderfoot Black, Grenada

Jaxx stood, his arms spread outward and harnessed to a rope attached to walls on either side of him. His head hung and his chin touched his chest. Sweat dripped from his nose. Breathing heavily, he blinked several times, unaware of where he was.

In a daze, he shifted from leg to leg. His heart beat slowly. He’d been drugged.

Computers beeped and monitors showed images he couldn’t quite make out. Warm, the room smelled like machinery.

“Where...me?” he said, his voice raspy.

“He’s coming ’round,” said a voice over an intercom. “Get him to the showers.”

Shot, not once, but twice. How was he still alive? He blinked several more times and his vision began to clear. He eyed his chest. Shirtless, no blood, no indentation, and no bullet hole.

He moved his shoulder. No pain.

Two men entered, both with white coats, glaringly doctor-like. They unstrapped Jaxx, placed his arms around their shoulders. They then dragged his feet across the ground, taking Jaxx out of the room.

Jaxx wanted to walk, but his feet were heavy, uncoordinated.

“Who...you?”

“Keep your eyes forward,” one of the doctors replied.

“I’m keeping…them. My eyes...they’re mine. Don’t...take.”

“That’s not what I meant, Sir.”

They hauled Jaxx down a hall