China Jewel by Thomas Hollyday

Author:Thomas Hollyday [Hollyday, Thomas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery, Retail, Suspense, Thriller
ISBN: 9780985475307
Amazon: B00FRECBQ0
Barnesnoble: B00FRECBQ0
Publisher: Happy Bird Corporation
Published: 2013-11-13T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

July 27, 12 Noon

New York City

It was an old seven-story building, brick, in poor repair. A small sign indicated that the office of Strand International was inside. Inside, there was a tiny lobby, with a stairway and an elevator. He could see that the stair treads were well worn as if the regular employees had already made the same decision to forego the elevator. He pressed the elevator button and the old door slid back, barely staggering as it opened. The inside box was worn and he could almost see the ghosts of the last century or more of riders. He quickly chose the stairs.

At the top of the first landing was a frosted glass door. He entered. He was looking at threadbare offices with busy employees who paid no attention to him. So much for one the Fortune 500’s biggest corporations. It was popular knowledge in the business community that Strand took the least expensive quarters he could get and had his employees work in dimly lit offices. Bill had remarked the Strand gang was trying to beat the Internal Revenue Service on property asset taxes.

He moved quickly to a doorway with Slidell’s name.

“Hold it, mister,” said a beefy voice. The security officer was suddenly beside him. He was in a blue suit, looked tough, and Cutter knew he was armed. The man kept his right hand under his jacket and reached for Cutter with his left. He said, “What you think you’re doing?”

“I came to see Slidell.”

The guard jerked forward as he drew a large revolver. Cutter saw this coming and struck hard with his right into the man’s throat. The man coughed and reached for his throat. His gun hand fell. Cutter faked a kick toward his crotch. As the guard moved to guard himself, Jim hit his jaw with a fast uppercut, knocking the man’s head backward into the sharp metal edge of a file cabinet. Blood spurted from the guard’s face as he came to rest, unconscious, with cardboard files falling gently across his chest.

“Just take it easy, mister.” Another guard was behind him with a drawn revolver.

Slidell’s door opened. “Bring Mister Cutter in here.” Slidell said. “I thought he’d show up today.”

Slidell returned to his desk, two other security men standing nearby. Slidell said, “Jim,” and raised his hand to ease back his men.

“Let’s talk,” said Slidell, smiling, from behind several computer monitors. Jim only glared at him.

Unlike the rest of the quarters, Slidell’s office was modern with glass desks and shiny metal chairs and tables. High glass windows looked over New York harbor toward Long Island. The sun was to the other side of the building and through the windows Cutter could see the shadow shape of Strand International stretching over lower buildings.

On one wall a large blowup diagram and photograph of the Chinese Clipper car hung prominently, its construction details displayed and the side view photograph in full color. Black arrows had been laid across the drawing to indicate manufacturing questions.

“I’ll

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