Free The Cyclops Conspiracy by David Perry Page B

pitches, mixing in a few change-ups and fastballs.
    “That’s all for me.” Jason sucked in several deep breaths. His temples pounded.
    “You okay, Dad?”
    “Just fine.”
    The ibuprofen dulled the pounding, and the nausea had resolved. But balance was still an issue. As a pharmacist, Jason knew he should have gone to the hospital. If one of his patients described the way he’d struck his head, Jason would have strongly suggested visiting an emergency room. X-rays or even a CT scan were called for. But Jason feared if they found something serious, there was no telling how long he would be confined to a hospital bed, and Lily Zanns would find someone else to become her new VP. That was a chance he was not willing to take.
    Michael tossed his glove into a plastic bin in the garage. The boy was the spitting image of Jenny. His black, wavy hair spilled over his ears, making putting a ball cap on it an adventure. The gap-toothed smile lit up Jason’s world.
    “Dad?”
    “Yeah, Son.”
    “Are all criminals in prison guilty?”
    “Most of them are. Why do you ask?”
    “You know my friend Trevor?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Well, his older brother was arrested last week for breaking into someone’s house. Trevor said he did it on a dare.”
    “That wasn’t very smart.”
    “I guess not. Wouldn’t it suck if you were accused of a crime and had to go to prison?”
    “Watch your language.”
    “Sorry. But wouldn’t it?”
    “Yeah, it would be pretty bad. Why do you ask?”
    “If you committed a crime, would you admit it?”
    “I hope I wouldn’t commit a crime.”
    “Yeah, but just say you did. Would you?”
    Jason smiled. “Yes, I would admit it.”
    “What if you didn’t do it, and no one believed you?”
    “With evidence nowadays, it should be easy to prove your innocence.”
    “If you told me you didn’t commit a crime, I’d believe you.”
    “I’m glad, Son. Now go do your homework while I work on my Hwa-Rang.”

C HAPTER 10
Friday, September 22
    Oliver slipped in the back door like an apparition. It was his second attempt in the last forty-eight hours to finish the task that had cost him his last remaining pinky finger. He methodically searched each room of Thomas Pettigrew’s house using only a three-inch flashlight. Thirty minutes later, empty handed, he exited and moved to the next objective.
    He watched from a hundred yards away as the Chrysler 300 backed out of the driveway, the Pettigrew woman at the wheel. She sped away in the opposite direction. The taillights brightened. She paused at the intersection and slowly made the turn. He waited a full minute to be sure she didn’t double back.
    He rubbed the gauze over the missing finger, grimacing deeply. It hurt incredibly. As usual, he had forgone any painkillers. The agony served as a constant reminder about the consequences of failure. He had successfully completed many missions for Ms. Lily, hundreds in fact. Success was expected and not celebrated. Failures were dealt withharshly. But to her credit, Lily did not dwell on his few failures after punishment had been meted out.
    Oliver flexed the remaining eight fingers that were still attached, glad his career was coming to an end. He could ill afford any more mistakes if he expected to be able to feed himself. This mission would be their last and would allow him to live comfortably in self-imposed exile serving Ms. Lily.
    Satisfied it was safe, he quietly exited the BMW and walked calmly through the shadows of the sycamores to the back. Ninety seconds later, he was inside. He searched every room with gloved hands. Stymied again, he exited, locking the door behind him. He would not rest until the box of files was in his possession.

C HAPTER 11
Tuesday, September 26
    “What’s the bet?” asked Jason.
    “The usual,” Peter Rodgers, Jason’s brother, replied. “Loser buys lunch and drives Mom to her doctor’s appointments for the next two weeks. I’m particularly hungry today. I see a