Ben Bracken: Origins (Ben Bracken Books 1 - 5) Read Online Free
Author: Robert Parker
Tags: Ben Bracken: Origins - Ben Bracken Books 1-5
upwards as he passes them. The place really is quiet, but it can only be expected. But they must know that someone is coming. They are not expecting him though - that’s why Trev is firmly hidden, way out of sight.
The hallway ends at a T-junction, and as Ben approaches it, he gravitates to the left hand wall. He doesn’t know whether to go left or right, but as he edges his head around the corner to see, he knows he has to go left straight away - because the third door on the left has a tall man standing next to it. The welcoming committee, thinks Ben.
Immediately Ben has him pegged from his posture - about 210 pounds, pretty well-built, but that 210 is spread across a 6’4” frame. And it’s spread pretty thin. He is about 40, with a completely skewed nose that suggests he’s not scared of a scrap or two. He hunches, and his back looks a little arched. He’s been standing there a while. He wears jeans, a white shirt and a blazer, he looks like an awkward uncle desperately trying to fit in at your 18th birthday party.
Ben turns and faces just where he came from, cups his hands around his mouth and begins to whistle. He can’t think of particular song to whistle, so he starts with ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow’. He slowly turns round to the corner, throwing the whistle from further down the corridor back to where he was stood, mimicking an approach. As he comes to face the corner, he lowers his hands and starts to walk briskly around the corner. He sticks his left hand in his pocket and feigns a good rummage.
The guard looks up immediately, but Ben keeps his head down. As he walks, he keeps the whistle up. He pulls out his old house keys - he still carries them, a memento of his past and a reminder that he once had a place to call home in the twisted society he has returned to. As he gets the keys out, he thumbs through them, ever closer to the guard. The guard watches, and turns a touch to face Ben, folding his arms.
Ben pretends to find the key he’s looking for and stops whistling. He takes the big bronze Yale house key in his right hand between thumb and forefinger, as if ready to open the door. He walks past the guard without even addressing him - and bursts into action with a sickening speed and ferocity.
He launches at the guard, leaping and coiling, and buries both knees into the guards chest, exploding him backward into the door he was supposed to be protecting. With his right hand, he drives the key into the guards neck, and out again - it is an ugly blunt instrument for such a job, but the force of the hit drives the key into it’s target fairly easily. Not a nice way to go. The guard crashes into the door and the sudden impact forces it to open. The guard falls backwards into the apartment, choking messily as he thuds onto the bare floorboards of the hall. The man writhes on the floor but only for a brief moment, as the skirting boards take a grim spattering of crimson spray from his neck.
Ben stands at the door and looks inside. Sunlight blazes and Manchester is presented in all it’s glory through high floor to ceiling windows opposite the door. Freya sits with masking tape across her mouth on the floor by the window, and looks up at the commotion from the door. She appears to only be wearing a nighty. Even though she can’t speak, her eyes tell all: how horrible what she just saw was, how relieved she is to see Ben and, on balance, given her desperate predicament, what an entrance that was.
5
The guard is barely on his back when Ben bends over him and opens his jacket, checking the inside breast pockets and under-arms for a firearm. The prone guard cackles softly, but Ben barely registers the horrors of the guards last moments. He finds nothing - this may suggest that the man did not have a military background, but Ben can’t be sure. Ex-military opposition would ramp up the difficulty of this situation considerably, and Ben hopes that this is a good sign.
He checks the guard’s
The hallway ends at a T-junction, and as Ben approaches it, he gravitates to the left hand wall. He doesn’t know whether to go left or right, but as he edges his head around the corner to see, he knows he has to go left straight away - because the third door on the left has a tall man standing next to it. The welcoming committee, thinks Ben.
Immediately Ben has him pegged from his posture - about 210 pounds, pretty well-built, but that 210 is spread across a 6’4” frame. And it’s spread pretty thin. He is about 40, with a completely skewed nose that suggests he’s not scared of a scrap or two. He hunches, and his back looks a little arched. He’s been standing there a while. He wears jeans, a white shirt and a blazer, he looks like an awkward uncle desperately trying to fit in at your 18th birthday party.
Ben turns and faces just where he came from, cups his hands around his mouth and begins to whistle. He can’t think of particular song to whistle, so he starts with ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow’. He slowly turns round to the corner, throwing the whistle from further down the corridor back to where he was stood, mimicking an approach. As he comes to face the corner, he lowers his hands and starts to walk briskly around the corner. He sticks his left hand in his pocket and feigns a good rummage.
The guard looks up immediately, but Ben keeps his head down. As he walks, he keeps the whistle up. He pulls out his old house keys - he still carries them, a memento of his past and a reminder that he once had a place to call home in the twisted society he has returned to. As he gets the keys out, he thumbs through them, ever closer to the guard. The guard watches, and turns a touch to face Ben, folding his arms.
Ben pretends to find the key he’s looking for and stops whistling. He takes the big bronze Yale house key in his right hand between thumb and forefinger, as if ready to open the door. He walks past the guard without even addressing him - and bursts into action with a sickening speed and ferocity.
He launches at the guard, leaping and coiling, and buries both knees into the guards chest, exploding him backward into the door he was supposed to be protecting. With his right hand, he drives the key into the guards neck, and out again - it is an ugly blunt instrument for such a job, but the force of the hit drives the key into it’s target fairly easily. Not a nice way to go. The guard crashes into the door and the sudden impact forces it to open. The guard falls backwards into the apartment, choking messily as he thuds onto the bare floorboards of the hall. The man writhes on the floor but only for a brief moment, as the skirting boards take a grim spattering of crimson spray from his neck.
Ben stands at the door and looks inside. Sunlight blazes and Manchester is presented in all it’s glory through high floor to ceiling windows opposite the door. Freya sits with masking tape across her mouth on the floor by the window, and looks up at the commotion from the door. She appears to only be wearing a nighty. Even though she can’t speak, her eyes tell all: how horrible what she just saw was, how relieved she is to see Ben and, on balance, given her desperate predicament, what an entrance that was.
5
The guard is barely on his back when Ben bends over him and opens his jacket, checking the inside breast pockets and under-arms for a firearm. The prone guard cackles softly, but Ben barely registers the horrors of the guards last moments. He finds nothing - this may suggest that the man did not have a military background, but Ben can’t be sure. Ex-military opposition would ramp up the difficulty of this situation considerably, and Ben hopes that this is a good sign.
He checks the guard’s
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