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    Carrier
    Carrier
    Carrier
    Ebook97 pages1 hour

    Carrier

    By Michael D. Britton

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Scott Faraday and Cat Blaine are back with a case that takes them on a wild and deadly ride. When random shooters are tied to viral emails and mysterious cell phone calls, the two detectives are drawn into a web of terror -- and the trail could lead Cat to answers in the cold-case murders of her brother and sister-in-law. But how high up does this new conspiracy go? Find out in CARRIER, an eSleuth novella.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherIntelligent Life Books
    Release dateMar 3, 2015
    ISBN9781310587870
    Carrier
    Author

    Michael D. Britton

    Michael D. Britton has been writing professionally for 25 years, including heading up marketing departments, working in huge private corporations, writing for government entities, supporting non-profit healthcare systems, sprinting with tiny tech start-ups, freelancing, and a producing TV news broadcasts in the 90s. His short fiction has received ten honorable mentions in the Writers of the Future contest, among other recognition; and his novels have advanced through multiple rounds of the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award in various years. His list of indie-published fiction titles exceeds 65 and keeps increasing. Learn more at www.michaeldbritton.com.

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      Book preview

      Carrier - Michael D. Britton

      CARRIER

      an eSleuth novella

      by

      Michael D. Britton

      * * * *

      Copyright 2015 by Michael D. Britton / Intelligent Life Books

      Discover other titles by this author on Smashwords.com

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      PROLOGUE – UNKNOWN CALLER

      She stepped out of the elevator as the shiny silver doors parted, and into the quiet of the well-lit parking garage.

      Julia Williams had worked late. Again. There was only a smattering of glistening cars remaining in the concrete structure – three BMWs, a Lexus, a convertible Mercedes, a couple of SUVs with tinted windows and chrome wheels and rugged tires that had never been anywhere near the mud they’d ostensibly been built for. These fine automobiles represented the many hours of hard work by their owners who still toiled away into the night, unable to enjoy the fruits of their labor.

      The Catch-22 of an executive life.

      Although tired, Julia, a twenty-nine year old marketing writer for Gray Myers Company, still looked beautiful in her red blazer and knee-length black skirt with matching crimson pumps. Her straight black hair was cut to just brush her shoulders. She carried her laptop in a slim black leather case and a small black purse over her shoulder, her heels echoing on the cement floor as she crossed the lot toward her black 2013 Lincoln Town Car.

      She’d always liked the big luxury cars.

      Just as she reached her vehicle, she suddenly stopped, placed her laptop case on the hood, and reached into her purse for her vibrating cell.

      The caller ID read UNKNOWN CALLER.

      She answered it.

      She listened intently for ten seconds.

      Then she hung up. She placed the phone back in her purse. Her eyes seemed to glaze over as she dropped her purse beside her car and walked slowly in a straight line through the parking area, at a forty-five degree angle, missing all the cars, like a woman on a mission.

      She took an exterior stairwell to the next floor down, then grabbed something from a paper bag hidden behind a concrete bulkhead, as if she knew it was there all along.

      She took ten more steps, and stopped alongside a silver Corvette.

      She raised the gun and held it to the glass.

      She pulled the trigger.

      A blast rang out, punching a hole through the glass, the rapport reverberating throughout the parking structure.

      A middle-aged man inside with graying hair and a navy blue business suit slumped over the wheel, activating the horn, a trickle of red coming from a hole in his temple.

      His brain matter occupied the inside of the passenger window and some of the custom white leather seat.

      Julia Williams placed the gun back in the bag and methodically returned it to its spot behind the bulkhead, her face expressionless, her breathing steady.

      She smoothed her hair as she returned to her car, one story up, got in, and started up the engine.

      As she pulled out of the garage, she was nearly hit by a police car speeding in.

      Huh, must’ve been daydreaming, she muttered to herself, trying to shake herself awake after a long day’s work.

      #

      1

      So, said Catherine Blaine, flopping down on the navy blue microfiber couch of the eSleuth national headquarters. How are we going to spend our first paycheck?

      eSleuth national headquarters was just another name for the house Scott Faraday now lived in – formerly belonging to his now-deceased mother, Ginny – and also his home growing up. Now it was his place of business.

      Faraday sat behind his glass-topped desk staring at the bank account balance on his screen, fingering his salt-and-pepper goatee. Well Cat, it’s great that we’ve solved our first case, but after we deduct our overheads and set some aside for taxes and insurance, we’ve got just enough to buy a celebratory dinner. At McDonald’s.

      Cat frowned. But I was hoping for an upgrade to my laptop. I guess that’ll have to wait. But can we at least hit Harry J’s for dinner?

      I think we can swing that, said Faraday, remembering the first time they’d eaten there together, nearly a year ago. That was only a month before they’d decided to quit the CIA and go into business together as cybercrime detectives.

      Faraday pulled up the company email and scanned through for any business leads. All junk.

      Then he switched to his personal account. Not much there, except one from Uncle Larry – his mom’s younger brother, with whom he’d had on and off contact since her funeral. Great, Faraday muttered, another chain mail. Let’s see what silliness Larry is perpetuating this time.

      He clicked the attachment, which ran through Faraday’s self-designed extreme virus-killing filter before safely opening a slide show. About twenty slides, with ominous music, all about how the government is trying to take over our lives – yada yada – the usual paranoid stuff.

      More of the usual anti-government rantings? asked Cat, standing up to spin the thin rod that closed the Venetian blinds from the orange light of the setting October sun.

      Yeah – actually kind of ironic now that President Raines is being impeached for abuse of power.

      You know what they say about a stopped clock.

      What I find interesting, said Faraday, closing the slide show and shaking his head, is how this world wide web of lies has an ebb and flow - urban legends and hoaxes will float around with origins dating back a decade or more, but every few months or so, someone will pick up on one and there will be a surge of it as it propagates through inboxes around the world, then it will disappear again for a few months, only to reappear either exactly the same, or with some sort of timely modification. It's a strange social phenomenon.

      I think it just proves that technology may change, but on the inside, people remain the same. The same hopes, fears, beliefs. Just new ways of expressing them.

      I think it means there will always be idiots among us.

      Nice, said Cat. That’s your uncle you’re talking about.

      "I know. And he’s a nice enough guy, but man is he gullible. Faraday was about to log out and head off to Harry J’s with Cat, when a new email arrived. He didn’t recognize the sender, but the subject was eSleuth – read this now, Faraday."

      Intrigued, Faraday ran it through his filter before even clicking on the email body, just to be sure. He also ran a trace, but it was anonymous and bounced through several ghost servers.

      Huh, he

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