The God Class: The Third Nick Wolfe Sci Fi Adventure (Nick Wolfe Adventure Series Book 3) Read Online Free
Author: Ross H Henderson
essentially useless: memories of another man’s ex-wife and kids. Someone else’s personal life only serves to cloud the water, and probably should be buried. If at all possible, Wolfe supposed it should be completely forgotten.
Wolfe decided that if one had to be a clone, he could do a lot worse than having Josh Taylor’s DNA. He remembered that in his only interaction with Josh’s clone, he had been a little dismissive of him. It was understandable since he was introduced to him in the same moment he realized he had to mourn one of his closest friends. Even so, in a way it felt like he had disrespected Josh himself. Wolfe knew logically this could not be the case, but felt bad about it anyway. He decided when he was done with this job he would take some time off and try to reconnect with the clone of his friend. After all, if someone as hard-hearted as Tristan Evans can embrace his son’s clone as another son, maybe he could accomplish something similar with Josh’s clone.
It was starting to look like this might be a late night, so Wolfe decided to take a short nap and conserve his energy. He knew he would be alerted as soon as the drones picked anything up, so the time was right. He emptied his mind, letting it wander through imaginary places, islands, mountains, jungles, wherever. He had a good memory, and had been around the world to many tranquil locations. Josh Taylor had taught him how to do this when he first joined Green Squad, the mercenary team employed by Tristan Evans. Wolfe’s mental discipline made him a natural at it, and soon he was better at it than Taylor. He could sleep on demand, choosing his desired location as one would browse through a catalogue or a computer file folder. Wolfe didn’t need any mental exercises today; he had been awake for much of the last two days, and fell into a deep sleep.
At about 10:30 p.m. he got an alert from one of his drones, then another, then another. He looked on his screen and saw the pattern of red dots form along the road to the site.
The computer voice, a calm woman’s voice with an English accent said, “Vehicle onscreen.”
Wolfe answered it, “Follow. Stay back 20 meters.”
In the dark, Wolfe knew his tiny drones would not be detected, so there was no need to be overly cautious. The truck was old and beat-up, but it ran well. It looked like it could have been white or gray, except for the door on the passenger’s side, which was an obvious junkyard replacement. It could have been red, black, brown, or maybe navy blue. It was hard to tell in the dark with only moonlight.
There were three men squeezed into the cab of the old pickup, and the engine was very noisy. He’d have to wait until they stopped to hear anything.
Chapter 6
Newton Paxson, Maynard Halifax, and Heath Chesterfield arrived at the site shortly after 11:00 p.m. Chesterfield got out of the truck first. Despite his good physical condition, his body ached after an hour crammed in the bench seat of Paxson’s old pickup. He stretched as he got out and made sure he could stand up straight. At 6 feet, 4 inches, he was the tallest of the three. Even though he hadn’t played a down of football since high school, he was still in good shape. He wore brown leather jacket over a red T-shirt, black jeans, and black high-top sneakers.
Heath Chesterfield looked every bit a grown man at 22 years old, except for a thin moustache, which looked like it belonged on a teenager. Heath’s moustache actually made him look younger than he would have seemed without it. It didn’t matter. He was attractive, with an easy smile, but his brown eyes reflected his burning intensity when the situation was serious.
Intensity was something Heath Chesterfield was never short of. It made him a great running back, but it also got him kicked off the football team in his sophomore year. He had a quick temper, but had been working on it for years. He also had an obsession with superheroes as a boy. He was a
Wolfe decided that if one had to be a clone, he could do a lot worse than having Josh Taylor’s DNA. He remembered that in his only interaction with Josh’s clone, he had been a little dismissive of him. It was understandable since he was introduced to him in the same moment he realized he had to mourn one of his closest friends. Even so, in a way it felt like he had disrespected Josh himself. Wolfe knew logically this could not be the case, but felt bad about it anyway. He decided when he was done with this job he would take some time off and try to reconnect with the clone of his friend. After all, if someone as hard-hearted as Tristan Evans can embrace his son’s clone as another son, maybe he could accomplish something similar with Josh’s clone.
It was starting to look like this might be a late night, so Wolfe decided to take a short nap and conserve his energy. He knew he would be alerted as soon as the drones picked anything up, so the time was right. He emptied his mind, letting it wander through imaginary places, islands, mountains, jungles, wherever. He had a good memory, and had been around the world to many tranquil locations. Josh Taylor had taught him how to do this when he first joined Green Squad, the mercenary team employed by Tristan Evans. Wolfe’s mental discipline made him a natural at it, and soon he was better at it than Taylor. He could sleep on demand, choosing his desired location as one would browse through a catalogue or a computer file folder. Wolfe didn’t need any mental exercises today; he had been awake for much of the last two days, and fell into a deep sleep.
At about 10:30 p.m. he got an alert from one of his drones, then another, then another. He looked on his screen and saw the pattern of red dots form along the road to the site.
The computer voice, a calm woman’s voice with an English accent said, “Vehicle onscreen.”
Wolfe answered it, “Follow. Stay back 20 meters.”
In the dark, Wolfe knew his tiny drones would not be detected, so there was no need to be overly cautious. The truck was old and beat-up, but it ran well. It looked like it could have been white or gray, except for the door on the passenger’s side, which was an obvious junkyard replacement. It could have been red, black, brown, or maybe navy blue. It was hard to tell in the dark with only moonlight.
There were three men squeezed into the cab of the old pickup, and the engine was very noisy. He’d have to wait until they stopped to hear anything.
Chapter 6
Newton Paxson, Maynard Halifax, and Heath Chesterfield arrived at the site shortly after 11:00 p.m. Chesterfield got out of the truck first. Despite his good physical condition, his body ached after an hour crammed in the bench seat of Paxson’s old pickup. He stretched as he got out and made sure he could stand up straight. At 6 feet, 4 inches, he was the tallest of the three. Even though he hadn’t played a down of football since high school, he was still in good shape. He wore brown leather jacket over a red T-shirt, black jeans, and black high-top sneakers.
Heath Chesterfield looked every bit a grown man at 22 years old, except for a thin moustache, which looked like it belonged on a teenager. Heath’s moustache actually made him look younger than he would have seemed without it. It didn’t matter. He was attractive, with an easy smile, but his brown eyes reflected his burning intensity when the situation was serious.
Intensity was something Heath Chesterfield was never short of. It made him a great running back, but it also got him kicked off the football team in his sophomore year. He had a quick temper, but had been working on it for years. He also had an obsession with superheroes as a boy. He was a
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