Birth of a Monster Read Online Free Page A

black
market and quite possibly without having had the courtesy to make
so much as a small donation to the city police department in the
process.
     
    If there was one thing the Sivingdel
Police were known for cracking down on, it was stingy
donors.
     
    If they didn’t get involved quick, they
expected the seizure would turn out to have been one of those
misunderstandings that large sums of cash had clarified.
     
    Thus, it was with no leisure that they
kneed their horses’ sides, as they headed towards the police
station. The wind caressed their crewcut scalps.
     

Chapter 10
     
    When Harold set Righty down in the most
wooded area of the city park—an area Righty had hoped not to
revisit after the first visit had revealed to him that it was an
area the city police found pleasant to patrol—he knew that he might
be making his final good-bye to his faithful friend.
     
    He gave Harold a pat on the back and an
appreciative look but knew words would only enervate his soul.
Harold quickly ascended to a large tree, and Righty, with exactly
two million falons in his various secret coat and pant
compartments, set off on foot towards the nearest trail, which
would then take him to the park’s circular opening, from where it
would then would only be a five- to ten-minute walk before he
spotted a coach available for hire.
     
    He tipped his hat politely at a couple
of patrol officers he found sauntering around the park and
concluded he must look more confident than he felt, which was like
a broken man being led to the scaffold in prison garb.
     
    The walking itself, he thought, should
have calmed his nerves slightly, but every step was one closer to
the police station rather than away from it and thus only served to
put him more on edge.
     
    He almost blurted out, when
the coachman asked for his destination, To
jail! But instead, he made an attempt at
discretion, stating coldly, “Oh, I can’t remember the address, but
it’s merely a stone’s throw from the police station, so just take
me there.”
     
    The coachman, who was quite
argumentative in his private life, almost said, You sure you’re not going to the jail? Most customers at least know the name of
their destination, if not the address. But
he was rather tolerant in his professional capacity and set off
towards the jail, a place he himself had once visited after a nasty
dispute with his wife.
     
    It was a dreary ride, and while neither
knew it, they shared a nearly equal displeasure with the
destination. Nor did either know that some of the coachman’s
particularly long shifts were given a little help from some plants
grown at his passenger’s ranch.
     
    “There she blows,” said the coachman,
stopping the carriage.
     
    As he looked at Righty’s face while he
nervously fumbled for pocket change, the coachman realized his
passenger had reached his destination after all.
     
    “Heck, friend. I’ve been there. Today
is on the house.”
     
    Righty’s mood felt slightly elevated by
the goodwill he had found in such an unlikely place, but he
responded, “On the contrary, today you’ll be generously rewarded,”
handing the coachman several times the normal fare.
     
    “May luck be with you today, friend!”
the coachman said happily, and then lay the whip to his horses
before his customer had second thoughts.
     

Chapter 11
     
    Righty knew he should have pushed
himself forward, like a man dragging a stubborn work bench across a
rough floor, because with any loss of momentum, he was likely to
turn tail and run in the opposite direction.
     
    But he could not deny himself a moment
of reflection. While his heart continued to gallop, it seemed as if
his surroundings were slowing down, almost to the point where an
accomplished artist would have time to capture the individual
expressions of the passersby.
     
    A rising wave of analysis loomed in the
background, growing ominously by the second, full of questions and
objections. He stepped forward to the door,