Free The Cyclops Conspiracy by David Perry Page A

the events of the altercation with Jason Rodgers, speaking in hushed tones. His Adam’s apple bobbed quickly several times during his monologue. Zanns listened patiently until he was finished.
    “Did they see your face?”
    “I wore a hood,” he replied, eyes downcast.
    Zanns frowned. “That box must be found, Oliver. Go back to Pettigrew’s and search again. Then search the daughter’s house. Obviously, if he was looking for it, Jason Rodgers does not have it.”
    “But the daughter doesn’t know where the box is,” Oliver offered, hoping this insight might help him win a reprieve.
    “Nonetheless, Pettigrew may have hidden it in her house. Search it. You must find that box.”
    Oliver slumped.
    Lily patted Oliver’s shoulder. “You have failed me, Oliver. You are a true and loyal servant. If you were not so valuable, your punishment would be much more severe. Consider yourself lucky.” Lily could not afford to part with his services. His skill as a pilot and a bodyguard had served her well many times, and would do so again in the near future.
    “Yes, Ms. Lily.”
    Oliver remained, kneeling on the carpet while Lily left the bedroom. She returned with a blanket, bandages, gauze, and a jet lighter. She spread the blanket out and laid the supplies on it. Oliver lay on his back, his right hand and arm across the blanket, wincing in anticipation of the pain.
    “Oliver, your incompetence could have crippled our mission had you been caught, stealing from Allah his chance for vengeance. Vengeance we have worked so long and so hard for. He has no patience for such clumsiness. Your deeds cannot go unpunished. It is no different than a thief who is caught stealing a loaf of bread.”
    Lily recited a verse from the Quran. “As for the man who steals and the woman who steals, cut off their hands as punishment for what they have earned, an exemplary punishment from Allah.”
    “I will not cut off your hand, Oliver. Only a fraction of it, to remind you that the mission is paramount.” The blades of the boning scissors gleamed in the dim light of Zanns’s desk lamp. “You will be cleansed of your sin. Do not repeat it!”
    She slipped his right pinky between the blades as Oliver sucked in a deep breath. With a forceful, loud snap, the severed finger dropped to the blanket, followed quickly by large droplets of blood.
    Oliver’s wail shook the walls.

C HAPTER 9
    Michael wound up and fired. His fastball zipped at Jason and popped like a rifle shot into Jason’s ancient mitt. A plume of dust exploded from the glove.
Not bad
, Jason thought. For the last two months, Michael had worked hard, throwing against the fence and with his father, to strengthen his arm for next year’s Little League season. This past summer he’d realized he needed to work on developing a curveball and his arm strength if he was going to compete against the year-round ballplayers.
    Jason’s head still throbbed and spun like a carnival ride. He steadied himself by placing a hand on the driveway.
    “Nice pitch, Son,” he said weakly.
    Michael had begged him for a round of catch before starting his homework—a report about the code breakers of Bletchley Park during World War Two and their use of the Colossus, the world’s first electronic, programmable computing machines.
    Michael fired another one straight down the middle.
    “If you keep throwing them like that next season, they won’t be able to touch you.”
    Jason always loved playing catch with Michael. He’d dreamed about it since before Michael was born. Today, it took his mind off his headache, eased the pain, and made him wonder about roads not taken.
    Jason had always placed Chrissie’s face in the picture frame of his mind that was saved for his wife. When he’d dreamed about playing ball with his as-yet-unborn son, Chrissie was Michael’s mother, even in the years that followed their breakup. Then he met Jenny, married her, and those visions melted away.
    Michael threw ten more