Murder Inc.: A Sci-fi Thriller: Book 1 Read Online Free

electronically and stored on external servers, but somebody had forgotten to clear the old space. Not enough resources, Gutterson imagined Captain Martinez, the head of the station, saying.
    Below and above, the sleepy city had begun to stir, the first citizens out on their rooftop gardens harvesting and watering their produce. Automated electric garbage trucks chugged their way along the streets. Half a block of rundown buildings away, a magnetic-levitation train swept in like a giant snake from the outskirts of the city, halting to a stop the Lower Central station—an immense sleek steel roof, like an elongated bicycle helmet, covered a hundred and fifty yards of terminals and shops. As a boy, John had caught one of the old electric trains with his father, when Roy Gutterson had been a famous New York City police officer. John had yearned to be one too; eventually he had succeeded, even being a detective for a time, until they had suspended his badge eighteen months earlier.
    He turned away from the window; catching a flash of the man he’d become over the last year and a half. Tall and too thin—his mother reminded him—with a crest of thinning dark hair flecked at the edges with grey, and the first wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. He had left his early forties behind and was heading for the top of the hill, as Carolyn had called it. He thought of her and felt a wash of shame. She’d been dead for almost a year and a half, but he would never forgive himself for his behavior leading up to her death.
    Back at his wide desk, discolored with dust over time, Gutterson fell into his creaky swivel chair and peered at his work screen. Not a floating chair hanging in mid-air that senior people were allocated, but an ancient one, probably twenty-five years old, with its cracked plastic stand and layer of grime no amount of cleaning had removed. The workstation was a touchscreen at least, but still, he’d have loved one with a cerebral Bluetooth that moved the pages with one’s thoughts.
    The smell of coffee from the lower levels pulled at his senses, but his habit of checking the day’s work allocations before his first cup was ingrained. Gutterson swiped from the main page into his work folder. The screen beeped, flashing over a series of new icons. He waited for it to end, and by the time it did, counted files from all twenty-nine precincts for processing. That would keep him busy for three days.
    But the aroma of coffee kept calling. Fuck it, he thought. Once, some years ago, they had enough robot helpers to make coffee, clean the offices, and take care of the criminals. But with the budget cuts, there was only one person to make it for him now. He stood from his desk and strolled out of the small, grubby room into a long hallway.
    The elevator was still broken. He took the stairs down to the ground floor, catching the sound of electronic voices the lower he went as the ‘Bots processed felony offenders. A long time ago, Gutterson had been considered for one of these jobs, until the incoming government had introduced strict workplace safety laws, minimizing human contact with offenders.
    He told himself every day that he should have gotten out after they’d suspended his badge, but something kept him tethered to the station. Perhaps it was the way they treated him, producing conflicting feelings of both guilt and contentment. Sure, they had given him the administration role because of his father, though Gutterson had hated his old man, and the perpetual benefits of being Ray Gutterson’s son made him feel like a cheat. He yearned to change it, to exist on his merits, and not those of a man he detested.
    Gutterson descended the final set of rickety steel stairs, turned right, and reached an alcove halfway along the hallway with a dull, brushed steel sink, a grubby glass refrigerator, and a coffee machine that had ground more beans than the station had processed felons. He took a murky cup from the shelf, placed it