Deadlock Read Online Free

his best efforts. Besides, he was flat broke and couldn’t find time for his kids. What kind of hero let his life crumble like that?
    â€œDillon was hoping the two of you could do a little archery,” Laura said. “He’s become a regular Robin Hood.”
    â€œI hope not the part about—”
    The James Bond-like opening of Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” emanated from his breast pocket. He pulled out the mobile phone.
    â€œâ€”robbing from the rich to give to the poor,” he finished. The call was coming from a pay phone. “Hello?”
    â€œJohn Hutchinson?”
    He didn’t recognize the voice, strained, rushed.
    â€œSpeaking.”
    â€œDon’t say my name.”
    â€œThat would be a little difficult, since I don’t know—”
    The voice said, “It adds up to a dime or more.”
    Nichols. Dr. Dorian Nichols.
    Hutch stood so quickly, his chair toppled backward. “I thought you were . . .” He started to turn away, remembered where he was, and held an index finger up to Laura. She had stopped his bottle from toppling over when his legs had hit the table. He turned away from her concern.
    Hutch said, “The cops . . . everyone is looking for you. Your family . . .”
    â€œThey slaughtered them, all of them.” Nichols’s voice broke on slaughtered , rose in pitch.
    â€œThey? Who?”
    â€œDon’t use any names!”
    â€œYou think what? My line’s bugged? Yours? You’re calling from a pay phone.”
    â€œYours, absolutely, but they probably have entire area codes covered for me by now. They use a keyword program. It can monitor millions of conversations without anyone having to listen. That’s how they do it now.”
    A señorita brushed past, leading a family to a nearby table. Hutch picked up his chair and stepped around it. He faced a lava-rock wall, lowered his voice.
    â€œYou keep saying they .”
    â€œYou have to ask?”
    â€œThe news said—”
    â€œI know, that I killed them. That’s what they made it look like. Would you expect anything different?”
    â€œWhere are you? Why are you calling me? You need to go to . . .”
    The man jumped into Hutch’s hesitation. “To who? I can’t go to anyone. As soon as I do, they’ll lock me up. Then Page . . .” The man pulled in air, as if trying to take back the word. “Put me in a cell and I won’t come out—they’ll get me for sure. The only chance I have to . . . to expose who did this is to blow it wide open.”
    â€œI don’t understand.” But Hutch was beginning to. “Why don’t you go to the media? I mean, the big guys? They’d—”
    â€œThey’d think I went crazy, like they’re already saying. First they’d turn me in, then they’d write a story about how they helped apprehend me.”
    Hutch closed his eyes. Nichols was right. Hutch had beaten his own head against enough brick walls this past year to know. The man Nichols was talking about—Brendan Page—had insulated himself so thoroughly, was so adept at using his money and influence, that he was nearly untouchable. And nearly was Hutch’s hope only adding words. If Page had gone after Nichols as ruthlessly as he apparently had done, the doctor must possess exactly what Hutch’s investigation needed.
    God help me , Hutch thought. Thinking like this. The man’s family . Still . . .
    â€œWhat do you have?” Hutch said.
    Silence. Finally, Nichols said, “X. não . . . Genjuros. ”
    â€œWhat? Wait . . . spell that.” Hutch patted his pockets for a pen.
    Nichols said, “Do your research. I’ll be in touch.”
    â€œHold on. Where are you? I can—”
    A clicking sound came through, as though he could hear the quarters Nichols had used dropping through the phone.
    â€œHello? Doc—” He stopped himself. Bugged?