Prologue
Peter Beaupre sat in the driver's seat of the parked blue van and watched the white vapor of his breath curl slowly through the open window and out into the frigid air. It was a cold winter night in Chicago, and he was seriously annoyed.
He shouldn't have been in Chicago. He should have been on a plane to Hong Kong with a stolen Axus Defense Technologies microchip in his pocket.
A chip that was worth ten million dollars.
But due to a stupid mix-up at the San Francisco airport he was now sitting in this van outside a cab depot on a dark, dreary block lined with gloomy factories and warehouses.
In Chicago of all places. There was no place worse to be in the winter. And for Peter Beaupre, there was no place worse to be, period. The FBI had been after him for seven years. His luck couldn't last forever.
"Can't we get a little heat back here?" Earl Unger complained from the backseat.
"Running the engine might draw attention to us, Mr. Unger," Beaupre replied.
"Then how about closing the window at least?" Unger asked.
In the seat next to Beaupre, Alice Ribbons sighed irritably. Earl Unger was a large, solidly built man with thinning hair. When he kept his mouth closed, he was good for grunt work. When he opened his mouth, he was a nonstop pain.
"The windshield will steam up," Alice replied.
"Hey, look at that." Sitting next to Unger in the back, Burton Jernigan pointed out the window as a mangy rat scampered across the street and disappeared under the van.
"Disgusting!" Alice grumbled as a shiver ran through her.
In the back, Earl Unger had an idea. "You really don't like rats, huh?"
"I hate rats," Alice replied through clenched teeth.
"You know what they say about rats," Unger said, silently reaching forward. "They can get through any opening that's big enough for their heads."
Alice glanced nervously at the open window. Just then, Unger slid his fingers down her arm.
"Ahh!" Alice screamed. In a flash a knife appeared in her hand and she twisted around, looking for the rat.
Unger laughed.
"Why you—" Alice angrily pointed the knife at him.
Peter Beaupre had had it. "That's enough!" he shouted. "Don't you idiots understand how serious this is? Not only have we lost a microchip worth ten million dollars, but if we don't find it, Mr. Chou will use us for shark bait."
"Mr. Chou's in Hong Kong," Unger scoffed. "He can't get us."
"Mr. Chou has people everywhere, you jerk," Alice snarled. "If he wants you dead, you're dead."
Unger quieted down. Soon, a dented yellow cab pulled up in front of the depot. Peter Beaupre checked a number on a pad on his lap. "That's the one, boys."
Unger and Jernigan got out of the van and started across the street. In the van, Alice turned to Beaupre.
"Why can't we get rid of those two idiots?" she whispered.
"We will soon enough," Peter Beaupre answered. "But not until we get that toy car and chip back. Until then, we'll need their muscle."
He and Alice watched as Unger and Jernigan cornered the cab driver. The driver looked frightened. The three of them exchanged some words, then Unger and Jernigan returned to the van and got in.
"What'd he say?" Beaupre asked.
"He took the old lady to Washington Street in North Devon Park," Jernigan said.
"House number?" Alice asked.
"He couldn't see it," Unger said. "But he said it's a big, old Tudor house on a short street. Dead end."
Peter Beaupre leveled his gaze at Alice. "You're sure the old lady has that toy car?"
"She has to," Alice answered. "She was the only one with a white bag like ours. She had to be the one we mixed up bags with."
Peter Beaupre looked over the seats at Unger and Jernigan. "What if there's more than one big, old Tudor on that block?"
"We'll know the one," jernigan said. "It's got a Christmas tree at the end of the driveway, and the driveway ain't been plowed."
1
Alex Pruitt, age eight, slid his snow shovel under one last lump of snow in old Mrs. Hess's driveway and heaved it away. There! He was
Peter Beaupre sat in the driver's seat of the parked blue van and watched the white vapor of his breath curl slowly through the open window and out into the frigid air. It was a cold winter night in Chicago, and he was seriously annoyed.
He shouldn't have been in Chicago. He should have been on a plane to Hong Kong with a stolen Axus Defense Technologies microchip in his pocket.
A chip that was worth ten million dollars.
But due to a stupid mix-up at the San Francisco airport he was now sitting in this van outside a cab depot on a dark, dreary block lined with gloomy factories and warehouses.
In Chicago of all places. There was no place worse to be in the winter. And for Peter Beaupre, there was no place worse to be, period. The FBI had been after him for seven years. His luck couldn't last forever.
"Can't we get a little heat back here?" Earl Unger complained from the backseat.
"Running the engine might draw attention to us, Mr. Unger," Beaupre replied.
"Then how about closing the window at least?" Unger asked.
In the seat next to Beaupre, Alice Ribbons sighed irritably. Earl Unger was a large, solidly built man with thinning hair. When he kept his mouth closed, he was good for grunt work. When he opened his mouth, he was a nonstop pain.
"The windshield will steam up," Alice replied.
"Hey, look at that." Sitting next to Unger in the back, Burton Jernigan pointed out the window as a mangy rat scampered across the street and disappeared under the van.
"Disgusting!" Alice grumbled as a shiver ran through her.
In the back, Earl Unger had an idea. "You really don't like rats, huh?"
"I hate rats," Alice replied through clenched teeth.
"You know what they say about rats," Unger said, silently reaching forward. "They can get through any opening that's big enough for their heads."
Alice glanced nervously at the open window. Just then, Unger slid his fingers down her arm.
"Ahh!" Alice screamed. In a flash a knife appeared in her hand and she twisted around, looking for the rat.
Unger laughed.
"Why you—" Alice angrily pointed the knife at him.
Peter Beaupre had had it. "That's enough!" he shouted. "Don't you idiots understand how serious this is? Not only have we lost a microchip worth ten million dollars, but if we don't find it, Mr. Chou will use us for shark bait."
"Mr. Chou's in Hong Kong," Unger scoffed. "He can't get us."
"Mr. Chou has people everywhere, you jerk," Alice snarled. "If he wants you dead, you're dead."
Unger quieted down. Soon, a dented yellow cab pulled up in front of the depot. Peter Beaupre checked a number on a pad on his lap. "That's the one, boys."
Unger and Jernigan got out of the van and started across the street. In the van, Alice turned to Beaupre.
"Why can't we get rid of those two idiots?" she whispered.
"We will soon enough," Peter Beaupre answered. "But not until we get that toy car and chip back. Until then, we'll need their muscle."
He and Alice watched as Unger and Jernigan cornered the cab driver. The driver looked frightened. The three of them exchanged some words, then Unger and Jernigan returned to the van and got in.
"What'd he say?" Beaupre asked.
"He took the old lady to Washington Street in North Devon Park," Jernigan said.
"House number?" Alice asked.
"He couldn't see it," Unger said. "But he said it's a big, old Tudor house on a short street. Dead end."
Peter Beaupre leveled his gaze at Alice. "You're sure the old lady has that toy car?"
"She has to," Alice answered. "She was the only one with a white bag like ours. She had to be the one we mixed up bags with."
Peter Beaupre looked over the seats at Unger and Jernigan. "What if there's more than one big, old Tudor on that block?"
"We'll know the one," jernigan said. "It's got a Christmas tree at the end of the driveway, and the driveway ain't been plowed."
1
Alex Pruitt, age eight, slid his snow shovel under one last lump of snow in old Mrs. Hess's driveway and heaved it away. There! He was
Similar Books
![Vampires Among Us [Vampires Among Us 1] (Siren Publishing Classic)](https://fs.ageofbook.com/186821/thumbs/152x264/vampires-among-us-vampires-among-us-1-siren-publishing-classic.png)
