The Machinist Part One: Malevolence Read Online Free Page B

in his time.  But with his bulky frame, thick mustache, Spetsnaz tattoo and facial scars Stanislav looked almost comical in a green apron.
    McHenry contemplated this for a moment before pushing the door in all the way and stepping inside.  If the Brotherhood had changed its name, this coffee shop could still be a front business.  It was certainly less suspicious, if you didn’t take the infamous hero-murderer manning the register into account.
    “What is like?” Asked Stanislav without looking up from what he was doing.
    “A job,” McHenry replied tersely.
    “Not hiring,” Stanislav started to say before looking up.  “Try—Mac!  Is you!”
    The huge man reached over the register to embrace McHenry in a bear hug.  McHenry’s heart skipped a beat—the Butcher was capable of snapping a car in half over his knee.  Some nick-nacks fell to the floor with a crash.  Stanislav released the smaller man as he felt the confused stares of his customers on him.
    “Of course, anything for old friend.”  He gestured.  “Come to back.”
    McHenry walked around the counter and followed him into the back room, his pulse still racing.
    “How long gone, ten years?” Stanislav inquired.
    “Fifteen,” replied McHenry.
    “Fifteen years, is shame!”  A stack of cardboard boxes crinkled under the larger man’s weight as he leaned back on them.  “You missed very much.”
    “We had the news.”
    “Ah … not miss so much, then.”
    “I ...,” McHenry started, pausing to contemplate his words before he spoke.  “Are you still … in?”
    “Oh, yes!” Stanislav laughed.  “Coffee shop chain, much better cover--Is global, you know?  Excellent money laundering scheme!”
    McHenry nodded.  That was actually pretty brilliant.  But there was more.  Stanislav kept going: “Side-benefit, too: Heroes come in after patrols, bitch about day.  We hear everything.  All plans.  All girlfriends’ names.  Everything, none suspect.”
    “Amazing,” McHenry chuckled and then looked Stanislav squarely in the eyes.  “I need a favor.”
    “Anything.”
    “Someone told me the Network would give me the hookup.”
    Stanislav nodded.  “What is you need?”
    “Somewhere to sleep.  Some gear.  I’m getting back in.”
    “I can do.”
    Stanislav punched the box between his legs, tearing into it.  He retracted his hand with something in it, which he then tossed over to McHenry.  McHenry caught the little plastic-wrapped rectangle with his good hand.
    “Have brownie,” said Stanislav.  “I make call.”
    The moment Stanislav stepped out the back door of the shop McHenry tore open the packaging and chomped down on the brownie.  After fifteen years of prison food, he was in Heaven.
    Stanislav was back in a minute or two, and gave McHenry an address four blocks south.  He sent him on his way with a paper cup of hot cocoa and a plastic bag full of individually-wrapped brownies.  They were devoured before McHenry even got near his destination.
    The entire building was plastered in demolition notices that hadn’t yet been enforced, and McHenry didn’t see any other people as he made his way up the creaking stairs, but he heard some yelling as he passed a middle floor.  He made his way up to the top floor as per Stanislav’s directions.
    He came to the door of the apartment in question, and saw a key sticking out of the lock.
    McHenry pushed the door open, pocketed the key and stepped inside.  There was no furniture in the apartment.  A bare mattress was laid out on the hardwood floor next to a radiator.  He bent down, put the cup on the floor.
    He blinked and once again his vision turned grayscale.  Data points appeared in his frame of view.
    There were f our sets of active power outlets and a cable TV socket, but no wire and no set.  No electronic devices at all, in fact.  There was nothing else there.
    He walked over to the mattress and picked up the plain gr ay tee shirt and black sweatpants lying