The Paper Factory (Michael Berg Book 1) by Norrie Sinclair Page A

“You can say that again. Another beer? Doesn’t look like this dude’ s going to show. I’m in no hurry.”
      “ Sure, keep ’em coming,” said Gregor, “my social diary’s not exactly full.”
    ---
      Gregor stumbled through the exit. Mark was behind him. His friend grabbed the neck of his jacket. Pulled him upright just in time. It was after midnight.    
      Beer assisted euphoria kicked in, helped him onto a high . Okay, so the contact hadn’t shown up, but he was back in again. Mark seemed to think so too.
      Down Shakespeare, to One Hundred Sixty-Ninth. Mark steered him onto the Edward L. Grant Highway, a much likelier place to get a cab this time of night. A car slowed behind them. Gregor stopped, Mark on his outside, tried to focus on the car. A door opened, the rear door. No one got out. A subdued crack in the air. Mark’s body slammed into his. Another. He fell backwards, head smashing onto the pavement. Mark’s full weight crunched on top of him.
      Deadweight. He would play the same . If he moved he was dead. Gregor didn’t move, couldn’t move. Eyes straining to stay open, unblinking. Fixed to a point of light in the sky.
    The engine idled. Jesus Christ, if I ever get out of here I’m getting out of this life.
      A silhouette blocked the yellow glow from the streetlamp. A shadow crept over him. He opened his mouth. A hollow cry. Burning pain exploded inside him.
    ---
      The killer bent forward, lifted Gregor’s left arm and twisted it palm up. With a gloved hand he unclipped the Monaco and slipped it into a bag. The man then reached down, raised his own trouser leg about eight inches and removed a knife from its sheath. He switched hands, holding Gregor’s wrist so that the palm of the hand was facing downwards. He held the little finger apart from the rest of the hand. The sharpened edge glistened in the lamplight. It took less than a second. The finger was carved from the bone. He cupped it in his palm, studying it. 

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 34
     
      There was no time to prepare for the drop. He landed sharply on a hard, uneven surface. Rock. His right ankle took most of his weight, gave way beneath him. A sharp, jarring jolt of pain shot through his leg. If he stopped here he was finished.
      A hand came out of the darkness and grabbed hold of his, pulling him up. It was Tereza, her hand smaller than his, but strong and urgent. He pushed himself up with his left leg, gritting his teeth as he used his right leg to balance. He followed, limping. She held his hand in hers. He may as well have been blind. His arms lightly brushed walls on either side of him. They were in a tunnel.
      S omething hit the ground behind them. Not far behind. Michael looked back. He caught a brief glimpse of a huge form caught in the glare of a point of flickering light. They turned a corner and the dim light vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
      Tereza came to a dead stop. Michael almost tripped over her, regaining his balance at the last moment. He heard her twisting, rattling something, straining backwards as she did so.
      “ Help me,” she said under her breath.
      For a moment he didn’t understand.
      “ The door. Now,” she said forcefully.
      He let go of her hand, stepped forward and put his right hand out, found hers and grasped the iron handle.
      “ Pull,” he said, the echoing of the footsteps getting louder. Their pursuer had turned the corner and would be on them in a matter of seconds. He pushed the handle down and pulled on the iron bar with everything he had. The door gave slightly.
      “ Again. Now.” He could feel her body strain against his as she pulled backwards. He let his right hand take all of his weight. The door swung inwards, blinding light disorienting him. For a split second he lost his footing before righting himself again. He ran through the open wooden door, grabbing Tereza’s hand and pulling her with him. Michael let her go, swung round and