The Chop Shop Read Online Free

for some public event.
    “Should we
recognise him, sir?” Michael said.
    Harris returned
to his place at the front of the room where the whiteboard stood. “That depends
on whether you voted for him or not. He was an MP from Devon.”
    “Was.”
    “I expect you
all got a good look at him when he was plastered over that car. It's a long
fall from Upper London.”
    “The guy who
nearly wrecked my car? There's a million places to jump off that platform. Or
he could've gotten somebody else to do the job for him. No shortage of
volunteers for that,” David said.
    Harris paced
around the tables again. He laid out more photocopies. “Read this; it's a
preliminary police report filed less than an hour ago. His suicide isn't what
you need to be thinking about.”
    “Jesus, what a
bloodbath,” Richard said.
    “They won't like
it upstairs, but technically, Jim Belton died in our jurisdiction. I've pulled
a lot of strings, so you'll be going up there; not only that, but there's a
possibility of the killer being down here in Lower London. The police up there
will be doing their own investigation, but there will be time for you to
examine the crime scene. Corporal Hill and two section will be accompanying you
to the lift as security.
    “I'm sure I
don't need to remind you all of the money at stake here. Put this in the back
of the net and you're all going to come out of it better off. The company
rewards success; bounties, perks, promotions, it's all there for the taking.
Gear up and get moving,” Harris said.
    The others filed
out of the room.
    “Nothing in it
for you, sir?” Michael said.
    Harris gave him
a cold look. “I'm fifty-six, and I've seen a lot of wars. My wife is dead and
my daughter would probably be better off had she joined her. There's little
that interests me. Get going.”
    Michael caught
up with the others before the lift doors shut. They rode down to the ground
floor.
    “How long has it
been since you went topside, Ward?” Richard said.
    “Longer than I
care to remember,” Michael said.
    David smirked.
“God damn rent prices. This piece of shit job wouldn't even get me a room and a
floor to sleep on up there. I bought my sports car cash in hand, but that
money? It's nothing to the people up there.”
    “Do what
everyone else up there does and get a corporate sponsorship,” Maria said.
    “I'm afraid I
lack the required network of business connections. They might as well just give
London over to the Africans or Chinese. They bankrolled all the
reconstruction,” David said.
    “And did a piss
poor job of it. They threw enough money at that project to rebuild half of the
south and look what there is to show for it; more holes than a lump of Swiss
fucking cheese,” Helen said.
    They got off at
the fourth floor, picked up two satchels of equipment and took the stairs the
rest of the way. Corporal Hill's section was waiting for them out front, stood
in front of two infantry fighting vehicles painted high-visibility white.
    “Are you ready?”
Corporal Hill said.
    “The bacon
effect, huh?” Michael said.
    The corporal
nodded.
    “Let's go,”
Helen said.
     Richmond pillar
lingered at the limits of his view. Signal lights and neon advertisements
flashed high above the surrounding areas. Michael checked his watch. They
climbed into the back of the closest vehicle through the small door and seated
themselves inside the cramped interior.
    “Mind your
heads,” Hill said.
    The seats were
the colour of faded green and felt as hard as wood. Three soldiers from the
section sat opposite them. Michael inhaled; the air was thick with the scent of
the engine and old hydraulics. An electric motor whined, and the rear door
slammed shut, entombing them inside a coffin of metal and appliqué armour
panels.
    He listened to
the radio chatter, lurching sideways as the vehicle jumped into first gear.
Spare ammunition rattled about in tin cans hidden beneath the seats. The
vehicle had no vision ports, and he found