Then the Dark: A Technothriller (Markus Murphy Series Book 2)
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Then the Dark
Markus Murphy Book 2
Mike McCrary
Copyright © 2021 by Mike McCrary
Cover by www.onegraphica.com/
This is a work of fiction in which all names, characters, places and events are imaginary. Where names of actual celebrities, organizations and corporate entities are used, they’re used for fictional purposes and don’t constitute actual assertions of fact. No resemblance to anyone or anything real is intended, nor should it be inferred.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means without the written consent of the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts for the purpose of review or promotion.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Coming Summer 2021
If you like this book…
Also by Mike McCrary
About the Author
Acknowledgments
For them.
“Rule your mind, or it will rule you.” – Horace
“I punched my mother out once.” – Charles Manson
THE NIGHT EVERYTHING CHANGED
Chapter 1
Nice, quiet Cody Higgins whispers a gentle prayer as he loads the dishwasher.
Prays the gun doesn’t slip out from his pants.
He’s comfortable and uncomfortable with the weapon.
Cody was given the gun yesterday. Or maybe she gave it to him a few days ago—he forgets exactly when Lady Brubaker handed it to him. Things have gotten beyond fuzzy lately, but he’ll never forget the feeling that rippled under his skin as she handed it to him.
A jolt of electricity.
He was frightened, excited, and so, so proud.
Hasn’t fired it yet, but he has a strange confidence in his skills. There’s this chunk of unearned knowledge he holds. A crystal-clear vision of how to work the weapon at a very high level is present inside his mind. Yet, at the same time, there’s no clear memory of ever pulling the trigger on anything in his life. As if he knows he’s a master marksman while never having taken a shot before.
She chose him.
That’s what’s important.
Lady Brubaker wouldn’t handpick nice, quiet Cody Higgins if he couldn’t do it.
“So, you’ll be gone how long?” Jennifer Higgins, Cody’s wife, glances over. A mix of puzzled and annoyed.
“An hour? Perhaps slightly more. Two at a maximum.” Cody shuts the dishwasher, adjusting the gun with his back still turned to her. “Have to go into the office for this.” He smiles. “It’s a silly, boring project. You wouldn’t be interested.”
“Oh, that’s not true.” Jennifer flashes some fake curiosity while not bothering to look up from her phone. Her fingers feverishly tap away at a conversation with someone else. “If it’s important to you…”
Cody nods.
He lets the quiet fill the room, expanding like a balloon.
Cody won’t be quiet or nice for very much longer.
Taking in a deep breath, he opens the door. Doesn’t trouble her with saying goodbye. His thoughts turn to what will happen while he’s gone. He knows what plan Jennifer has already set in motion. Knows with absolute certainty who her fingers are having that conversation with while he washed the nightly dishes. This has been going on for some time. He shuts the door behind him and exhales.
Hope she has fun.
There’s a chill in the air as he steps out into the driveway. Feels nice. Lights are on in the windows of the homes that line the Higgins’s street. Well-manicured yards. The occasional bark of a dog mixed with sounds of children playing the next street over.
He closes his eyes, feeling the cool breeze push across his face. Helps him shift the mental gears in his head. Lets things slip, slide, then grind into their proper place. Moving away from Cody Higgins. A chump of a husband. Neighborhood nobody and almost-senior project manager at Blah Blah Corp working on blah, blah, whatever automated pricing controls system. There’s a shift in his jumbled head. A click. Thoughts begin to race toward what he has been chosen to become.
His fingers touch the gun under his shirt.
He squeezes the handle through the fabric.
Didn’t realize he was even touching the weapon until the hair on the back of his neck stands up straight and tall. His heart pumps harder and harder. Closing his eyes, he envisions the plan. Knows it by heart. He’ll take the train into the city, walk a few blocks, hop on a bus, then get off at Central Park.
There’s a protest in progress.
An unrest rising across the city. Across the nation. Yes, Lady Brubaker chose nice, quiet Cody Higgins to fire off a revolution.
He opens his eyes, turning to see his dear wife through the window.
She’s all smiles now that Cody has left the house. Tapping away on her phone.
Cody will be back to kill her soon.
Chapter 2
Cody Higgins reviews the plan one last time as he adjusts his wig.
The bush of ratty hair plays a little on the homeless side of things but that’s sort of the idea. His own hair is nothing to crow about. His normal look leans more toward undecided hippie than cool hipster. He slips on a pair of round glasses—not his—that are part of the illusion. The ratty-haired wig, the glasses, and the dirty T-shirt he pulled on after he hopped off the train are all part of his silly disguise. Much needed, but silly nonetheless.
He and several others met with Brubaker moments ago.
A final walk-through.
A dry run.
It wasn’t a long meeting, but it was enough. Just to be near her. To be in the same space sharing the same air. Those eyes. Those wonderful tattoos that run along those sculpted arms of hers. It was almost too much for Cody to take. To hear her words coming from her lips. Her strength. Her intelligence. Following her to the gates of hell is a trip Cody would gladly take.
Cody’s role in the plan is simple.
Not easy, but it is simple. He will do what needs to be done at the park, then wait. Just wait, because no matter what happens—good or bad—Cody is to go to a safe house exactly one week from tonight. If there is a change, he will be contacted via the encrypted phone she gave him. He knew better than to ask questions. There was no need.
Brubaker has been right about everything so far.
Central Park is up ahead. It buzzes like a hive. People scream protests. Calls for change. The pulsing energy of rage fills the night air.
Cody’s fingers tingle as he cuts through the crowd.
His body vibrates with excitement. There’s this neglected part of him that aches. One that simply can’t wait to unleash. Burning to go on a rampage. As if this other half of him has been holding back. The mix of drugs Brubaker gave him at the meeting has evened him out to some
degree, but there’s been a blend inside his mind. The balance is tricky. Actually, the balance has slipped and tipped toward the dark since the meeting. Who he was and who he’s become has no line dividing them any longer. That vanished in the blink of an eye.
Cody touches the gun again as he pushes through the masses gathered at the park. He’s been warned about the feelings he will have.
Warned about the moment that he will see him.
Told it will be beyond strange. How could it not be? How does someone reconcile seeing the person who has been added to you? The person who’s been mixed into your mind against your will. The madness of a trained killer that’s been jammed into your nice, quiet existence. They flooded Cody’s mild mind with a psychopath’s wild thoughts. His experiences. His skills.
Yes, Cody imagines it will be quite strange to see Markus Murphy alive and in the flesh.
They won’t have time to chat, he knows that, but it would be nice to talk to him.
In the distance up ahead, he can see people being pushed aside as Brubaker cuts through the crowd. Warmth spreads through Cody’s chest at the sight of her. Two men follow her while on their phones. One man turns, looking back and to the right. There’s a cop on his phone standing in the middle of a footbridge. The cop is only about ten feet from Murphy, who’s with a woman.
The sight of Murphy stops Cody dead in his tracks. Cody is in position. This is where he’s supposed to be, but he is frozen. Stuck in place, unable to move. His arms feel like concrete. His breathing is labored. Beyond strange doesn’t cover it. Like seeing part of yourself in a different body. Watching a version of yourself standing in Central Park, unaware you’re even there.
Murphy is scanning the area.
The cop on the bridge is looking right at Murphy. The cop’s focus is singular. A cold, dead stare on Murphy as the cop pockets his phone. Cody knows the cop, knows he is no officer of the law. This cop was at the meeting with Lady Brubaker. Set it off is what she told them all.
Cody almost feels bad for what is about to happen.
Sorry for those in the park who are not with them.
The cop on the bridge breaks into a chilling smile while staring at Murphy. The cop must feel it too. Feel his part in this. His part in history. The cop’s back goes straight. His eyes shift to crazed as he drags a finger across his throat.
Cody pulls his gun. Takes a deep breath.
The cop pulls his gun, shooting a man unfortunate enough to be closest to him.
The crowd screams.
Cody raises his gun. Squeezes the trigger.
His perfect shot removes the cop’s head. Sends him tumbling down, landing on the sidewalk a few feet from Murphy. People scream. Murphy whips around, pulling his Glock.
Cody can’t believe it.
He made a perfect headshot from a considerable distance. Not a shot an amateur could make with a handgun. Not one an amateur could successfully pull off during the heat of the moment. Only a handful of people on the planet could make that shot.
Murphy could make that shot.
Cody made that shot.
There’s a strange moment of calm. The park goes eerily quiet. Not for long, only lasting for a blink. But it was there. A tiny pulse of peace under the stars. Perhaps the last moment of calm they will ever know.
The volume jumps. Intensity grips tighter. The energy of violence has arrived. Police sirens wail. Lights flash like electric red and blue gumdrops popping in the night. Officers draw their weapons, screaming for peace. Ordering calm. The crowd scatters in all directions with the roar of madness rolling across the park.
More gunshots ring out.
Bullets zip from all directions. Hard to tell where they are all coming from, or from whom. Another officer goes down, as does another civilian. A woman’s leg blows out from under her. A pinata of flesh and bone. A large man takes a shot to the shoulder, spinning like a top to the ground. A cop chokeholds a man in a suit. No way to understand who’s doing what in the swarm of men and women. Good and bad hard to parse. A tangle of bodies moving, jumping, charging, falling in every direction.
Cody runs hard, cutting through the crowd, leaving the park as fast as he can.
There’s a car waiting for him with keys secured under the passenger side door.
All part of the plan.
Set it off, indeed.
Cody can hear Jennifer’s moans and groans through the door.
The huffs and puffs of Edward.
Edward from down the street.
Nice, quiet Cody has known for months. Jennifer and Edward aren’t as smooth as they think they are. A broken smile creeps across his lips as he grips his gun. He thinks of the shot he made at the park. Feels the chaos it caused. He allows that feeling to fill his heart all over again. Thinks of Murphy. Thinks of what he has become. A new man, as they say.
Cody is no more.
His life will be forever changed, and that change starts with correcting the situation behind this door. They must have closed the door, thinking that in some pathetic way they are keeping things private. They must think he’s so stupid. Oh, how they must giggle about poor, weak Cody as their tongues and fingers play. He waits for Edward to finish. Not sure why. The animalistic noises fade into spent laughter.
He presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth, then kicks in the door.
Jennifer and Edward sit straight up in bed. Edward holds out his hands as if begging for time. Babbling about how Cody should be cool about this. Jennifer is shocked at first, then she laughs. Edward tries to silence her, but she keeps laughing.
Cody starts to laugh too. Laughs until his face turns red and he begins to choke.
Then he shoots Edward.
The back of Edward’s head explodes in a bloody plume across the headboard. The boom of the gun is jarring. His ears ring. Much different than the openness of the park. An unmistakably uncommon sound in this perfect, storybook neighborhood. Jennifer’s jaw falls open, broken words escaping from her mouth. Her entire body trembles. Cody lowers his gun. His eyes dark and blank.
“Cody—”
“No.” He shakes his head as the remains of a laugh escape him. “No. Cody Higgins doesn’t work here anymore.”
“Please—”
“When the police reach our home…” He considers, smiles, then, “Jennifer, listen to me, please. Please tell them Mr. Madness was here.”
“What?”
Mr. Madness shoots Cody’s wife in her bare thigh.
Chapter 3
A shotgun blast rattles the windows of the house.
A hollow echo rolls through the amazing home that’s nestled in Montauk, New York.
The Mega Three came here to talk. The wealthiest, most powerful tech gods and goddesses the world has ever known have come here to find a solution to all that’s gone wrong. Brubaker came here with a death squad to torture and gain information from them while the insanity at Central Park escalates.
Two members of that death squad stand in silence upstairs.
Tinker and Hiro wait, listening, still as statues.
There’s a fight downstairs. An armed conflict between their friends and him. That him has turned the rest of their squad into a bloody mess. Markus Murphy is downstairs. There was always an outside chance Murphy might be killed in Central Park. But they all know, deep down, there was no real chance of that happening. They know this because they are part Murphy too. And Murphy is the only one who would come here and be able to do what they’re hearing downstairs.
There’s been yelling.
Gunfire.
Dull thumps of bodies dropping.
Tinker’s usual manic pace is forced into a motionless state. His wiry frame vibrates. Like a lid on a pot of boiling water. Hiro stands tall in the corner. A grizzly bear of a man in the middle of a slow burn. His breathing is steady and even. Silence is Hiro’s steady state, but even the quiet giant wants war. His knuckles softly pop as he squeezes his fists tighter and tighter.
T
he stares between them communicate the best they can.
They want to join the fight. They want rage.
They steal glances between one another. Their eyes bounce to the guns and cash on the bed. They’ve watched the rest of their team go downstairs one by one. Even the weak one. The one who didn’t turn out so good from the lab. Tinker begged him to stay. Tinker tried to protect the weak one, knowing Murphy would lay waste to him as if swatting a fly. Tinker and Hiro counted the shots fired and the sounds of the dead falling.
Tinker and Hiro are all that remain of this once proud squad of death.
Brubaker took them both aside in the meeting before Central Park, told them to survive above all else. Run if things got too spicy. Her word—spicy. She talked about him. About Markus Murphy. The man who is part of Tinker and Hiro, as well as the dead bodies piling up downstairs.
Tinker remembers being a lawyer.
Hiro remembers working security for a Japanese CEO.
Those are now distant thoughts that fade farther and farther back, slipping into the void. Brubaker gave them pills to even things out, she said. They watched her talk to someone else. Carl or Cliff or something that started with a C. He looked like an undecided hippie. A nice, quiet, corporate drone who didn’t know what he wanted to be.
Brubaker talked about Tinker and Hiro running if things got beyond control.
Control has certainly slipped beyond their grasp, but neither of them wants to leave. Running is not in their chemistry. He—Murphy—wouldn’t run. Never. They wave their guns wildly, doing their best to express their anger while remaining quiet.