Boston Posh by Wol-Vriey

Author:Wol-Vriey [Wol-Vriey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780692469002
Publisher: Burning Bulb Publishing
Published: 2013-12-07T05:00:00+00:00

***

Frank listened in silence. Only an imperceptible widening of his eyes betrayed his surprise on hearing of the Forks’ involvement.

This is very interesting, he thought. It would also explain why the organ he carried was still alive and seemed aware of its surroundings.

“That’s all I know,” Smith said finally.

“There are bottles of booze in the enclosure. What are they for?”

Smith explained.

Frank nodded. This is even stranger than I thought. This liver leaves here with me in any event, along with Rachel’s head. The Forks, eh?

“Where is Mrs. Fischer now? I want to talk to her.”

“She’s gone off somewhere with the Forks. I’ve no idea where.”

Frank frowned. A setback. He’d intended asking Sara where Malone lived.

He scowled. If Malone thought he’d gotten away with murdering Rachel, he was an idiot. He still had hell to pay, but with Sara Fischer away today, Frank’s revenge would be delayed.

He smiled at Smith. “You will deliver a message to Mrs. Fischer for me when she returns, old man.”

Smith nodded. “Whatever you say.”

Frank nodded back. “You’ll not need to remember it. I’ll write it out for you.”

Smith nodded.

Frank dropped the president’s liver on an adjacent table, then returned.

Smith shivered when he saw Frank was now holding a switchblade.

Shit! He made to rise.

Frank gestured to the robots. “Hold him down.”

The white machines grabbed Smith’s arms and legs.

Frank flicked the switchblade open.

“Hey wait! What are you doing? You said you wouldn’t kill me!”

“Don’t be a dick,” Frank said angrily. “I’m not about to kill you. I just missed dinner earlier and intend making up for that oversight. Ordinarily, I’d eat that liver over there. But it’s clearly poisonous now, so some of yours will have to suffice.”

Smith gaped at Frank. “What? Eat my liver?” He fought to rise, but the quartet of metal hands held him firmly in place. He gaped at Frank. “Are you fucking nuts?”

Frank smiled coolly. “Quite a few people think so.”

Ignoring his pleas—and later, screams—Frank unbuttoned Smith’s shirt and began cutting.

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