Murder in the Magic City by G.P. Sorrells (speed reading book TXT) 📗

have to connect with Dr. King’s team and tell them to scale things back a tad on that front. This is a situation I’d prefer to avoid in the future.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sheridan found it increasingly difficult not to be frustrated, and he certainly had no desire to be pleasant.

“Hurst. Jacob Hurst,” he said. He stretched out his hand in Sheridan’s direction, but pulled it back when met with the air. “I’m the Director of the Organized Crime Agency. The Agency to which you’re currently employed.”

Reality slowly pieced itself together for Sheridan, the unknown suddenly becoming known. One moment, he wasn’t sure who the hell he was. Just that he existed on some level and felt the slightest bit of control over his own wellbeing. The next, the world crashed down around him. A fog had engulfed him and restricted all that he could grab hold of. With the mist vanquished, threads of life roared back to him. In his mind’s eye, he could see himself sitting in front of the desk in Hurst’s office, speaking with him at length about why he alone was uniquely qualified for the role. The words came out as gibberish, as though he were hearing them through the ears of someone for whom the English language was not a known quantity. He watched as the men shook hands and parted ways, a look of supreme confidence on his own face.

“Making sense now?” Hurst looked at him like a parent trying to impart wisdom on their young one.

“Sort of. I remember meeting with you. Talking about this but, I,” Sheridan trailed off. His mind continued to roll in reverse, though each step back wasn’t as incremental as he may have hoped. In a strangely paced manner, he could see multiple threads along the plane of his memory. Some linked directly to his existing at this very instant. Others seemed to belong to another life. The view was his own, but the recollection had a hazy, dreamlike quality to it. He continued to think back, to find a reason for his decision to take the job. The more he considered it, however, the more his head throbbed. He grabbed hold of his forehead with his right hand and slammed his left fist onto the table.

Hurst seemed unbothered by the display. He simply motioned to someone outside of the room. Moments later the door opened, and a young woman walked in with a pushcart. On top of it sat a carafe of water and two tumblers. She placed a glass in front of each man, filled them up, and placed the carafe onto the table between them before walking out. Sheridan’s mouth felt dry almost instantly. He wanted nothing more than to quench his thirst, but he was reluctant to take a sip. He’d had enough euphoric experiences in recent memory to last a lifetime.

As if sensing his hesitation, Hurst picked up the glass nearest him and drank half. “It’s safe for consumption, as you can see. If you’d like, wait a few moments to see if I keel over before deciding to take a sip for yourself.”

Sheridan sensed the man before him was telling the truth, so he took a sip. It was magnificent. His mouth had taken on similar qualities to the Sahara since, well, he couldn’t quite put a finger on when, but he was certain it had been a while. “What is it I’m supposed to do here, exactly?”

“Should I assume that you’re still on board with completing your role in the mission?”

“I don’t recall what my role entails, but I’ll hazard a guess that I have little choice in the matter.”

“There’s always a choice. That’s the glorious thing about this country,” Hurst said. A sinister smile widened across his face. “We Americans take great pride in our personal freedoms. It’s one tenet which makes us unique among the rest of the civilized world. However, the various freedoms we hold dear, aren’t inherently free. You’re free to speak your mind to me, but that doesn’t protect you from my potentially not taking kindly to what you declare. Much in the same way, you’re free to choose the path of resistance regarding this post. Reaching the determination that the mission isn’t what you signed up for. That’s fine. It doesn’t protect you from repercussions, however.”

“A simple, no would’ve sufficed.”

“Answering succinctly as that would’ve been a touch dishonest, don’t you think?”

“Look, I really don’t feel like sitting here arguing about empty platitudes,” Sheridan said. He grabbed the glass with both hands and stared longingly at the remaining liquid. “Just tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do.”

“It’s simple, really. You’re to infiltrate the Medina criminal organization. Do some work for them, earn their trust. Whatever it takes to get in, to curry favor, you do it. No questions asked. Once you’re in, work your way close to the boss, Carlos Medina, and take him out. The specifics of the job are here,” Hurst said, tapping the folder.

“Wouldn’t removing this Medina character from the picture just force someone else to take his place? Can’t imagine they’d be enough trouble to warrant your attention now, yet fall apart when their leader is dealt with.”

“Getting to him will not be a simple task. It’s likely you’ll have some collateral damage along the way. Spark defiance amongst the ranks subtly. Cause them to question their own decision to obey. To fall in line like good little soldiers. By the time you cut the head from the snake, the rest of the body should crumble upon itself.”

“You make it sound so simple, but I’m not even certain I could make it past step one. With my history, it’s not likely they’d be all that trusting of welcoming a newcomer into the fold.” If Sheridan were being honest with himself in that moment, he wasn’t sure what it was about his history that would cause issues. He just liked the sound of it.

“That’s the beautiful thing,