Macaque Attack Read Online Free

more than enough to do trying to keep control of his monkey army. The problem with being the alpha monkey was that they all looked to him to tell them what to do and arbitrate all their pathetic squabbles. When faced with any kind of decision, they were more than happy to pass the responsibility up the chain of command until it dropped into his lap. It was the way primate troupes worked; it was also the way the military worked, and he didn’t like it. It was a pain in the hole. He was used to being a maverick, a grunt, an ace pilot rather than an Air Marshal. Being a leader cramped his style.
    Considering the figure at his feet, he said, “What are we going to do with him?”
    Victoria took a sip from the glass, and wiped her lips on the back of her gloved hand.
    “He’s a cyborg, same as before. A human brain in an artificial body.”
    Ack-Ack Macaque twitched his nostrils. The man smelled like an old, wet raincoat. He gave the guy a nudge and, arms still cuffed behind him, Berg tipped over onto his side.
    “It’s definitely him, though?”
    He watched as Victoria swirled the clear liquid in the bottom of her glass.
    “ Mais oui, ” she said. “And you realise what this means, don’t you?”
    Ack-Ack Macaque scowled at her.
    “Should I?”
    “It means Nguyen’s on this parallel, too.”
    Ack-Ack Macaque’s hackles rose. His scowl turned to a snarl, and his fingers went to his hips, where two silver Colts shone in their holsters.
    “Where is he?”
    “Paris, I think. An operation calling itself the Malsight Institute. I had K8 pull up some information on it.”
    “And?”
    “Officially it doesn’t exist. There’s nothing about it until two years ago. Rumours, conspiracy theories, that sort of thing. Very secretive, government money. Black research. Heavy security.”
    “Sounds familiar.”
    “If he’s there, and he’s building another robot army, we have to stop him.”
    Ack-Ack Macaque growled, deep in his throat. Doctor Nguyen had been the man responsible for creating them both in his laboratories—their own personal Frankenstein. He took the cigar from his lips and rolled it in his fingers.
    “We leave in an hour,” he decided. He was overdue for some action, and, after spending the last six weeks trying to sort out the complaints and squabbles of a troupe of irritable, irresponsible monkeys, he was itching to bust some skulls. “Reactivate your husband and recall the crew.”
    “What are you going to do?”
    “What do you think I’m going to do?” His lips curled back, revealing his sharp yellow fangs. He clamped the cigar back between his teeth. Leathery fingers bunched into fists. “If Nguyen’s here, I’m going to grab the bastard by the ears and rip his fucking head off.”

 
     
     
    CHAPTER THREE
    ASSHOLE VARIATIONS
     
    O N THE AIRSHIP’S bridge, Paul shimmered into apparent solidity. He blinked, removed his rimless spectacles, and rubbed his eyes.
    “Ah, Vicky.”
    His image was a hologram projected by a small drone, about the size and shape of a dragonfly, which hovered behind his eyes. It portrayed him as he had been before his death: spiky peroxide hair, gold ear stud, and a loud Hawaiian shirt under a long white lab coat.
    “How are you feeling?”
    “Me? I’m perfectly, um—” He frowned down at the glasses in his hand, as if seeing them for the first time.
    “Fine?” she suggested.
    He jumped, as if startled. “What? Oh yes. Fine. Perfectly fine.”
    “Are you still hooked into the main computer?”
    “I am.”
    “Then warm up the engines, we’re leaving.”
    She walked over and lowered herself into the captain’s chair. She knew Ack-Ack Macaque wouldn’t mind.
    Below, the members of the ragtag monkey army emerged from the doors and windows of the sea fort. Some were clothed, others were not; but all carried weapons, either slung on their backs or gripped in their teeth. She watched them swarm up the mooring ropes and suppressed a shiver.
    “As soon as