Deal Gone Bad - A Thriller (Frank Morrison Thriller Series Book 1) Read Free

it.
    “Who told you that?” he
said. “Who’s your boss?”
    “You’ll see soon enough,” the
driver said.
    So their job was not to bring
him to some backwoods to put a bullet through his head after all. At least not
until he saw their boss. They had been authorized to shoot him down if that
proved necessary, but that was not their prime intent. That knowledge allowed
Morrison to relax a bit. Not much. Just a bit.
    They entered a heavily
wooded area, the same he had seen Sheriff Sanford’s patrol car disappear
through minutes before, even though that already seemed like a million years
ago. Tall stands of maple trees were interspersed with the odd oaks and
birches. Horizontal lines of blue translucent plastic tubing ran from trunk to
trunk. Part of the corrugated steel incline of a sugar shack was visible
through the thick blanket of fresh springtime leaves. Perfect sugar maple
country. Only weeks before, the woods must have been humming with activity,
steam rolling from the cupolas in thick clouds. Morrison was seeing that
beautiful countryside up close for the first time in years, but he couldn’t
really enjoy it. He had to stay focused on what was happening in the black
Navigator.
    He remained silent for a
while. Watched. Listened.
    What struck him next was
what was not there.
    There were no ties or
handcuffs. No blindfold. He was allowed to see exactly where they were going. He
was pretty familiar with the whole county—anybody who knew him was aware of
that. Yet he was allowed to see where they were headed. Couldn’t be some big
secret then.
    After a moment, the forest
thinned out and gave way to some cleared land. Pastures where sheep were
grazing, wide open fields freshly ploughed, covered with seedlings. They were
getting closer to the town of Acton. Throughout, Morrison was taking in all the
changes that had happened to the scenery during his incarceration. Some of it
was subtle. Trees and hedges still in the same places, only having grown
bigger. Others were more striking, like when they reached the small industrial
estate on the outskirts of town. Perkins Electronics had had a plant there for
a long time. But now it was at least double the size. And a lot smarter. New
modern steel and glass office space now stood in the front, and the warehouse behind
seemed huger than before. New signage with stainless steel letters set on a
polished granite base floated above the front lawn, projecting an air of sleek
opulence. Must be doing good business , Morrison figured as the Navigator
zoomed past the impressive building.
    At the next junction,
Morrison was surprised by the driver’s reaction. Instead of heading straight into
town as he anticipated, the Navigator veered left onto another country road.
    “Not going into town?” Morrison
said.
    His inquiry was met only by
silence.
    Turned out they were only
skirting around town toward a farther destination. Morrison did not like that
one bit. Instinctively, he had liked the fact that they were heading to town,
which somewhat equalled a denser human presence with a reduced risk for
himself. The blond guy seemed to notice something.
    “Getting nervous,
Morrison?” he said.
    “Bored,” Morrison lied. “I
hadn’t planned to spend my first day out driving around.”
    “Maybe you should be
nervous.”
    At his side, the driver
grinned but said nothing. He kept pushing the big SUV farther and farther out.
    The crossroads started to
thin out. And they were increasingly of the packed dirt, washboard kind typical
of deep rural upstate New York in the spring. Maybe two or three cars ventured on
each of these roads every day. They led nowhere. Or rather, to a million places
where you could vanish unnoticed.
    They nosed on a private unnamed
road with a yellow “No Outlet” sign planted in the soft dirt shoulder. At least
a dozen bullets had shredded the thin metal plate. Another staple of deep rural
upstate New York.
    They headed northwest
through much rougher terrain