Cotton FBI - Episode 11 E-Book

Alexander Lohmann

• Herausgeber: Bastei Lübbe
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Serie: Cotton FBI (Englisch)
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Seitenzahl: 117

Beschreibung

Digital Series. Episode 11:

When Peter Warren opened the door and saw a pizza delivery man standing on his porch, he thought that it was a mix-up; he hadn’t ordered a pizza that evening. Then, instead of a pizza, the man pulled a taser out of the insulated transport box. The last thing Warren saw were drill bits, needles, and surgical instruments ...
Over the period of few months, several people fell victim to a sadistic crime using this or similar methods. Oddly, they weren’t killed right away, but fell into comas due to brain injuries and then died later on. The victims had nothing in common, except for one thing: They were all organ donors, and the last two victims had rare genetic profiles.
A false set of documents is prepared for Cotton by the team’s experts, making him look like the perfect organ donor. They insert it into the national databank of the country’s healthcare system. At the home address listed in these documents, Cotton awaits the killer ...

A new legend is born! COTTON FBI is a remake of a world famous cult series with more than one billion copies sold and appears bi-weekly with a self-contained story in each e-book episode.

Leseprobe

Contents

Cover

What is COTTON FBI?

The Author

Title

Copyright

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

Next on Cotton FBI

What is COTTON FBI?

Your name is Jeremiah Cotton. You are a small-time cop in the NYPD, a rookie that no one takes seriously. But you want more. You have a score to settle with the world. And anyone who calls you “Jerry” will be sorry.

A new time. A new hero. A new mission. Experience the birth of a digital cult-series: Cotton FBI is the remake of JERRY COTTON, the most successful series of German novels with more than one billion copies sold, and it tells an entirely new story in e-book form.

Cotton FBI is published twice a month, with each episode a self-contained story.

The Author

Alexander Lohmann was born in 1968 in Munich. He studied computer science, German philology, and history, and has worked as a magazine editor. Reading The Lord of the Rings early on awoke his love of fantasy, which he has employed in several different novels. His penchant for tension-filled conflict led him to COTTON RELOADED. Alexander Lohmann is a freelance author, editor, and translator based in Leichlingen.

Death On Order

Alexander Lohmann

Translated by Sharmia Cohen

BASTEI ENTERTAINMENT

Bastei Entertainment is an imprint of Bastei Lübbe AG

Copyright for the German edition © 2013 by Bastei Lübbe AG, Cologne, Germany

Copyright for the English edition © 2014 by Bastei Lübbe AG, Cologne, Germany

Written by Alexander Lohmann

Translated by Sharmia Cohen

Cover design: Sandra Taufer, Munich

Cover illustration: © Dmitry Prudnichenko / shutterstock; Irina Solatges / shutterstock; Pavel K / shutterstock; Birsen Cebeci / shutterstock

E-book-production: Urban SatzKonzept, Düsseldorf

ISBN 978-3-8387-4879-5

www.bastei-entertainment.com

1

A motor scooter rattled past the manicured yards and wooden façades of the flat-roofed bungalows in the suburban housing development in Richmond, Virginia. The last glimmer of evening sun lingered on the horizon, already outshone by the lights in the windows and the yellow glow of the streetlamps.

The pizza deliveryman parked his scooter in front of a house whose yard was somewhat more overgrown than those of its neighbors, with sloppily trimmed bushes sprawling over an unkempt lawn. He took a thermal delivery case from the scooter’s rack, placed a bright red bag on top of it, and walked up to the house, balancing the pile in his arms. It was evidently a large order, and the scrawny man had a hard time carrying it.

He propped up the packages between his body and the doorframe so that he wouldn’t have to put them down to ring the bell. There was no movement inside. He rang again.

Finally, a light came on behind the small window beside the entrance. A gaunt man opened the door. He was unshaven and was wearing a T-shirt and dark-blue sweatpants. He stared at the deliveryman, whose face was obscured by a red helmet and vintage aviator goggles. It was such a bizarre sight that the man was a little taken aback.

“Your pizza!” the pizza man beamed, holding out the order.

The man looked him over. “I didn’t order anything.” He began to close the door. The deliveryman’s smile faded. He balanced the heavy case on a raised knee and used his free hand to grope around in the brightly colored bag.

“Just a minute!” he cried. “Are you Mr. Jason Clegg?”

Clegg paused. “Yes,” he said. “But I didn’t order anything.”

The pizza man pulled something out of the bag. It looked like a pistol but was in fact a much more modern invention, almost as dangerous. A taser.

Without hesitation, he fired. The needles of the electrodes ripped through Clegg’s baggy shirt and into his chest. The device crackled. Clegg convulsed. For a moment, he went stiff as a board.

The deliveryman stepped through the door, pushing Clegg backward with the thermal case. Clegg fell hard onto his back. The impact drove the air out of his lungs. In one smooth movement, the pizza man set the box down on the floor next to Clegg, turned around, and pushed the door shut. Then he attended to his victim.

The pizza man opened the thermal case and pulled out a drill, a small electric saw, a number of bags and boxes, and a leather pouch. He took an alcohol-soaked rag from one of the bags and opened one of the smaller boxes. Inside there was a prepared syringe and a glass plunger.

Clegg struggled to control his twitching muscles. He sat up halfway. “What …?” he managed to gasp.

The pizza man pushed Clegg’s chin back with his left hand and ran a disinfectant wipe across his victim’s neck, carelessly dropping it on the floor. With one finger, he flicked the protective cap off of the needle; he then plunged it directly into Clegg’s carotid artery, holding him against the floor with one hand. Clegg struggled feebly, but it was only a matter of seconds before he lay limp and powerless on the floor with a blank stare on his face.

The pizza man hummed to himself as he unpacked the contents of his delivery case. He pulled something odd over his victim’s head — a hood made of wire mesh that snapped into place. Making small incisions in Clegg’s scalp, he exposed his skull in the exact locations where the fine tubes attached to the hood pushed up against his head.

He hummed louder as his drill carved into bone.

2

Things were quiet at G-Team headquarters. Outside, the streets of New York were bathed in the light and warmth of an early summer day. The windowless underground headquarters, in contrast, was always lit by the same dim glow emanating from the monitors and fluorescent lights. The air-conditioning required to keep the electronic equipment from overheating made the air cool and stuffy. There wasnt much noise in the large room, except for the hum of the computers and the occasional whispered conversations of agents at work.