Boston Blood: The first Frank McKenzie Thriller by Luis Samways Page A
Authors: Luis Samways
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half of the cigarette packet, grabbing one cigarette and quickly lighting it up.
He blows smoke rings until the cigarette burns down to the filter. He flicks the butt into the bin, and grabs his whisky bottle. Pouring himself another drink he sighs and looks into the full glass of brown liquor.
‘End of the rainbow here I come’ He mutters to himself as he raises his glass to his mouth and takes a sip.
Thirty Five
‘Were going live in two minutes Chase’ says the bulky technician. Connor nods.
Connor Chase is sitting down on a crate, using it as a makeshift seat, staring hard into the camera lens. His reflection is distorted, bent, through the shiny surface of the 30 x zoom 28 megapixel camera. The camera is resting on a tripod; the feet are muddy due to the condition of the floor.
‘Not an ideal studio ay boys’ Connor laughs
The group of guards and technicians surrounding him don’t respond.
Connor surveys the surrounding area of the DIY studio they have put together in the offices of the M.I.T Building. The place is a mess with loose wiring and clutter. Debris from the trashing of the computers that once occupied that area are still strewn all over the place. The blood from the execution style killing of Tasha has stained the floor, meshing in with the dirt and plastic trimmings. Chase turns around to see the white sheet cover used as a background covered in blood.
‘I thought I told you guys to clean this place up. It looks like a slaughter house!’
One of the guards laughs. Connor gets up and walks over to the hired hand.
‘Is there something funny here that I’m missing?’
The guard shakes his head.
‘I could have sworn that I heard you laughing at my slaughter house remark’
‘No sir’ the man replies.
Connor grins.
‘Oh so your calling me a liar then?’
The guard emphatically shakes his head
‘No sir of course not’
‘Of course not’ says Connor in a calm manner.
Chase quickly grabs his gun from his holster and raises it forward. Before the barrel hits the direction of the burley guard, he shoots. The bullet hits the man in the chest; blood trickles out of the man’s mouth, while he falls to the ground, the sound finally catches up, and blasts the area with a deafening ringing sound.
‘Of course not’ He repeats as he holsters his weapon once more.
Chase turns around to witness his employees all staring at him, grim faced at the situation.
‘I don’t have time for people who question my actions, nor do I have time for people who force me into questionable actions. This here gentleman is an operation, and operations need leaders. If you feel that any of those leader type qualities are lacking in me then feel free to walk out. I have my reasons for being here and so do you. Your reasons may not match mine but I shit you not, mine are the only ones that matter! So when I tell you to do something, do it. I don’t want people watching these proceeding thinking that I’m some sort of maniac hell bent on killing people. That’s the wrong sort of message I’m trying to convey here. What we want gentleman, is true freedom and privacy to do what we want when we want. Our information is not currency, that’s what we are here for. Sometimes there are casualties of war, that inevitable. I understand that, and so should you. I don’t want to be surrounded by the actions of the past, nor do I want people to be constantly reminded of whoever we execute here. So when I tell you to clean it up, it’s not because I want some chores done, it’s because it could affect the way people see us. We killed and kill the people we kill because of one reason and one reason only. The government did not cooperate. If we have the place looking like a war zone then people won’t blame it on the government, they will call us terrorists, not revolutionaries! So clean this dam mess up!’
Connor brushes himself down and sits back on the crate staring deep into the lens once more.
Thirty
He blows smoke rings until the cigarette burns down to the filter. He flicks the butt into the bin, and grabs his whisky bottle. Pouring himself another drink he sighs and looks into the full glass of brown liquor.
‘End of the rainbow here I come’ He mutters to himself as he raises his glass to his mouth and takes a sip.
Thirty Five
‘Were going live in two minutes Chase’ says the bulky technician. Connor nods.
Connor Chase is sitting down on a crate, using it as a makeshift seat, staring hard into the camera lens. His reflection is distorted, bent, through the shiny surface of the 30 x zoom 28 megapixel camera. The camera is resting on a tripod; the feet are muddy due to the condition of the floor.
‘Not an ideal studio ay boys’ Connor laughs
The group of guards and technicians surrounding him don’t respond.
Connor surveys the surrounding area of the DIY studio they have put together in the offices of the M.I.T Building. The place is a mess with loose wiring and clutter. Debris from the trashing of the computers that once occupied that area are still strewn all over the place. The blood from the execution style killing of Tasha has stained the floor, meshing in with the dirt and plastic trimmings. Chase turns around to see the white sheet cover used as a background covered in blood.
‘I thought I told you guys to clean this place up. It looks like a slaughter house!’
One of the guards laughs. Connor gets up and walks over to the hired hand.
‘Is there something funny here that I’m missing?’
The guard shakes his head.
‘I could have sworn that I heard you laughing at my slaughter house remark’
‘No sir’ the man replies.
Connor grins.
‘Oh so your calling me a liar then?’
The guard emphatically shakes his head
‘No sir of course not’
‘Of course not’ says Connor in a calm manner.
Chase quickly grabs his gun from his holster and raises it forward. Before the barrel hits the direction of the burley guard, he shoots. The bullet hits the man in the chest; blood trickles out of the man’s mouth, while he falls to the ground, the sound finally catches up, and blasts the area with a deafening ringing sound.
‘Of course not’ He repeats as he holsters his weapon once more.
Chase turns around to witness his employees all staring at him, grim faced at the situation.
‘I don’t have time for people who question my actions, nor do I have time for people who force me into questionable actions. This here gentleman is an operation, and operations need leaders. If you feel that any of those leader type qualities are lacking in me then feel free to walk out. I have my reasons for being here and so do you. Your reasons may not match mine but I shit you not, mine are the only ones that matter! So when I tell you to do something, do it. I don’t want people watching these proceeding thinking that I’m some sort of maniac hell bent on killing people. That’s the wrong sort of message I’m trying to convey here. What we want gentleman, is true freedom and privacy to do what we want when we want. Our information is not currency, that’s what we are here for. Sometimes there are casualties of war, that inevitable. I understand that, and so should you. I don’t want to be surrounded by the actions of the past, nor do I want people to be constantly reminded of whoever we execute here. So when I tell you to clean it up, it’s not because I want some chores done, it’s because it could affect the way people see us. We killed and kill the people we kill because of one reason and one reason only. The government did not cooperate. If we have the place looking like a war zone then people won’t blame it on the government, they will call us terrorists, not revolutionaries! So clean this dam mess up!’
Connor brushes himself down and sits back on the crate staring deep into the lens once more.
Thirty
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