Vigilante Investigator Series Box Set

by Eden Sharp

  The government recently claimed they had apprehended the man named as the leader of the group, known by the username AV1. Some i9 supporters say he got away, others say he was nothing more than a phantom, an idea. Who to believe?

  Update article - San Francisco Chronicle

  Hacker group the Infinite 9 has released sensational documents which purport to show that US military soldiers and contractors sexually abused children in Colombia and were then flown out of the country and offered immunity from prosecution under diplomatic agreements. Reports seem to show that officials claimed if any scandal came to light it would undermine American military efforts to stop drug trafficking and hinder the fight against leftist rebels.

  i9 has threatened to release the names of those involved, along with alleged videos showing the abuse, if prosecutions aren’t brought and broadcast by mainstream media outlets. The group claim they obtained video evidence of the abuse which was filmed and sold on child pornography sites which they have since removed.

  The group is known for taking a strong stand against child pornography and has been instrumental in taking down several sites and networks profiting from the illegal trade, though it has been condemned for doing so by law enforcement agencies saying that the removal of illegal websites and sharing networks should be performed by the authorities, and not internet vigilantes.

  Latest message released by the Infinite 9

  Greetings from the internet, the 21st century’s answer to television, except this one watches you. You have revealed so much of yourself so trustingly, giving over all the minutiae of your everyday lives so that big business can sell to you so successfully all the insignificant things you don’t really need but that you’ve been brainwashed into believing you want.

  Your entire existence is being recorded in real time and encoded online while those in power hide behind faceless corporations and have you drowning in a sea of irrelevancies in order to keep you from the truth. They watch you grasping at soundbites and snatches of video, shortening your attention spans and facilitating your inability to sort the deceit from the facts.

  The mainstream media, owned directly by these multinational corporations, overwhelmingly serves the interests of the powerful with its inherent bias and manipulation. It is more important than ever for us to have independent and unadulterated sources of information. The internet is free and we will fight to ensure that it will always be free and serves to shine light on the truth.

  Come join the collective. Together we are strong. Together we are infinite. Infinitely we are one.

  The Infinite 9.

  Transparency. Accountability.

  Group intelligence for the good of all.

  #0u1r1

  Zero Day

  Eden Sharp

  (Vigilante Investigator #3 – Short Story)

  Ever wondered what early experiences shaped Angela McGlynn thirst for justice? An incident in McGlynn’s teenage years provides an insight and relates to one particular character from both The Breaks and GET9.

  First published in 2019 by Maximum City Publishing

  Copyright © Eden Sharp 2019

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means - electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise - without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real events or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Zero Day

  As soon as I told the driver I wanted to go to Midtown Terrace he looked at me in a whole different way, like I was some rich kid, a daddy’s daughter treated like a princess with the cash to match. This was not your typical San Francisco neighborhood.

  The cab ride was around nine minutes long and felt like leaving the hustle and graffiti to head into the middle of nothing. It was definitely the burbs but high on a hill and still in the city. The houses were separate from one another, a bit higher up in the class system and the people that lived there had more money. It was the sort of place adults would say was a great neighborhood to raise a family and such.

  I fiddled with my backpack in my lap then noticed what I was doing, so pulled my sweater sleeves further down covering everything but the tips of my fingers. I was nervous. The place had bad associations. I hadn’t visited for a long time and my last invitation had been cancelled. I’d been looking forward to a sleepover that seemed like it would be a lot of fun. Things were changing then. Looking up. For both of us I thought. New starts. When I got the phone call, I just figured it was to ask me to bring snacks or a costume or something. Stupid.

  Yeah, hi, uh, I’m sorry but you can’t come. I was disappointed but thought maybe someone was sick or something. I asked her if everything was okay. There was a pause and then she said, I’ve got new parents now. And new friends. Better. You don’t fit in. I don’t want them meeting you. You know what? I don’t even like you anymore.

  Driving into the district from Clarendon and onto Dellbrook was like entering an enchanted forest. The greenery was overwhelming. When we got to Panorama Drive, I had him pull up a little way from the house, further down the street. He overcharged on the fare, which I guessed was because of the neighborhood and my age, but I handed over the amount he asked for.

  The entrance was at the side of the house at the top of some stairs. I hauled myself up, not even feeling the rail, my sleeves pulled up over my hands. High shrubbery screened the house on all sides. The porch light went on. It wasn't even dark yet. Dumb I thought. Something you did out of habit without thinking it through. People often made a habit of things without ever thinking about what they were doing. Everything inside the house was upside down, because of the treeline view. The living room, kitchen, bathroom and a couple of bedrooms were on the upper level and the parent’s room and an office were downstairs. To go outside into the small yard, you had to go through the Alber’s bedroom.

  I rang the bell and waited. Dr Alber answered the door. It had taken a while. The walk from his office to the main level I guessed.

  ‘Can I speak to Christine please?’ I said.

  His face went from surprised, to pleased, to thoughtful. Three different emotions in as many seconds.

  ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Come on in.’ He stepped back opening up the door in a wide arc.

  He motioned towards the living area. ‘Take a seat. I’ll give her a call.’

  My boots sounded loud on the hardwood floor. The house was silent. I took off my backpack and perched on the edge of a pale-colored chair opposite a blue couch. They didn’t match. Except everything kind of went together but like in a magazine. Ugly pictures of nothing, just colours and swirls and edges. Art. Everything was tidy and straight and fancy. Glass surfaces with weird sculptures and no dust. Like nobody lived there.

  Dr Alber came in, cell phone in his hand. He sat on the couch.

  ‘It’s Angela, right?’

  I nodded.

  ‘You stopped coming over a while back. When was that?’

  ‘I was thirteen.’

  He nodded to himself, not saying anything more.

  Really awkward.

  He sprang to his feet and went into the kitchen area.

  ‘I’ll make you a juice,’ he said. ‘Christine and her mother are over at a neighbor’s house across the street. They’ll be back in five.’

  The house was still apart from the sound of glasses clinking. A fridge door opening.

  He came back in with two glasses of orange. Put one down in front of me on the glass coffee table. I wondered if it would leave a mark. I fiddled with the straps to my pack by my feet. While I arrived. Got control over the nausea. He stood drinking his, looking out of the large windows surrounding the room. It was like being in the middle of a forest. The only thing visible, the trees. The whole reason for this house being laid out the wrong way round. I was glad he had his back to me. Time dragged, seconds into what fel
t like hours. My watch said minutes.

  He sat back down on the sofa. We both existed in the same space for a moment staring at each other. Not saying anything.

  ‘They shouldn’t be long now, but do you need to call your parents or anything?’

  I pictured Jeff. My legal guardian. I owed him a lot. Wondered what he was doing. People always assumed you had parents.

  I shook my head. ‘No thanks. They don’t know I’m here. I’m meant to be closer to home.’

  I couldn’t stand it any longer. ‘May I use your bathroom please?’

  He got to his feet again. ‘Of course. You know where it is?’

  I nodded. ‘I remember. From last time,’ I said.

  I took my pack and felt his eyes follow me out of the room. I skipped past Chrissie’s room and a guest room till I reached the bathroom and locked the door behind me. It had been remodelled. A lot had changed.

  I hadn’t been inside this house for a really long time but that hadn’t been the last time I’d seen Chrissie. I’d passed her at a mall in the city as she was shopping with her mom eight days ago. She looked very different. Older. She was pale. Skinny with dark circles under her eyes. At first, when she’d registered it was me, a hint of a smile had started to form and then she’d self-corrected. After, I’d seen the beginnings of tears instead.

  I took a scrunchie from my pack, slipped it over my wrist, pulled my hair back into a high ponytail, piled it up on top of my head and fixed it into a messy bun. I’d been long enough. It was time to face the awkward again.

  When I stepped outside the bathroom, Dr Alber was waiting in the hall. A few feet away from me. Attempting casual. I felt exposed.

  ‘There you are,’ he said.

  Where did he think I’d be?

  ‘We redecorated, probably looks different,’ he said.

  The awkward ratcheted up another notch. I slipped my pack onto my shoulders and went to move past him, but he stepped out a little so he was in my way.

  ‘Let me show you something you might like,’ he said.

  I looked at his hands. He held them out, palms up, non-threatening. He opened up the door to the guest room next to him and almost before I knew it, he had placed his hands on my pack and guided me inside. I crossed the room to get away from him and caught my reflection in a mirror. Startled expression. Slight panic. I was now standing between twin beds, back against the wall and he was by the door. He closed it behind him.

  'You're a very pretty girl Angela,' he said. 'You were always a very pretty girl. I thought about you a lot.’

  I wondered if he could hear my heart pounding.

  ‘You’re a doctor,’ I said. ‘You have drugs, right?’

  ‘You want something?’ he asked.

  Had he given Chrissie drugs? I guessed so, from her appearance. What did the mother know? Chrissie and I hadn’t spoken for long at the mall. Asked how one another was doing. I’d told her how I was off to Japan shortly for a tournament. She hadn’t said much at all apart from she was bikini shopping for a two-week vacation she was taking with her mother and leaving that weekend. In that brief exchange I had all I needed to know.

  He came toward me and I scanned his hands again, half expecting to see a syringe full of something, but they were still empty. I waited a beat until he was just the right distance away and exploded forward with a front kick, knee up high, toes back, leg snapped out and back, catching him unawares but squarely in the solar plexus. Hard meeting soft. He staggered back, all elbows and crashed into the door. I flashed out my right hand, muscles tensed and hard edged. It connected with the side of his neck sending an ugly message to the nerve. His legs buckled and he went down, mouth flapping.

  From my backpack I took a roll of thick silver tape, tore off a strip with my teeth and stuck it across his mouth. Told him not to puke. I pulled off my sweater as he came back online. His eyes were weirdly fixated on my chest. Weird in the circumstances. I grabbed the back of his head pulled him forward face first in the carpet, and straddled his back, knee pinned into the small of his neck.

  Gripping his left wrist with my left hand, I twisted it behind him. Applied more pressure to the cervical vertebrae with the bony part of my knee. Used my right hand to take the pinkie from his left and snap it hard the wrong way with a satisfying crack.

  The soft tissue and ligament damage alone became apparent almost immediately as blood pooled under the skin. Eyes manically wide, looking like he had a million questions with breath coming out hard and fast through his nose, his face went clammy and pale. I felt his body spasm underneath me like I was on a wild bronco ride as he went into shock. Then it stopped and he was still. I thought for a moment about taping his eyes shut for when he came round but decided I didn’t care. I could barely see him anyway. The room was darker now and I was staring through a thick fog.

  Jeff Besson parked a way down the block. Probably the only available space in Noe Valley. He killed the engine, looked at his watch. He was forty minutes earlier than he'd said he would be, so settled down to wait a while. Ten minutes later, he saw a cab stop further up the street outside the friend's house. He watched Angela get out, pay up and head inside. In his role as pseudo-parent, this was new territory. He gave it a few more minutes then walked up the street and knocked at the door.

  The friend answered, Liz, her eyes all puffy and red. Angela made like she was just collecting her backpack and getting ready to leave. She gave the girl an extended hug. A full heavy kiss on the lips. He turned away, walked back down the path to wait. Heard the door close behind him.

  'You okay?'

  Angela looked pleased with herself in contrast to the girl she'd just left.

  'Yeah. Excited.'

  'Thought I'd make my famous shrimp with noodles for dinner, ' he said. 'Last supper.'

  He got on with the prep work in the kitchen while she went for a shower. He'd deveined the shrimp, left them to marinate, cooked the noodles and sliced most of the vegetables when she came in and sat down at the table. Cropped sweat pants and T-shirt, wet hair.

  He turned back to the wooden board and cut off the stalks from the mushrooms he'd just drained.

  'What you do today?' he said. Waited to see if she'd lie to him. Had never lied yet.

  There was an extended silence.

  'Something I needed to do. Nothing good. I’m sorry if this messes things up,' she said finally.

  He put down the knife, rested both hands on the board, closed his eyes, screwed them up tight. He could only imagine. He’d had his suspicions about what Angela had been through.

  'He still breathing?'

  She did a little laugh. No denials. He was clearly on the right track.

  'Yes.'

  He turned around to face her.

  'Honey what did you do?'

  Big pale eyes looked out from under the dark bangs. Vulnerable yet knowing at the same time.

  'I broke both his hands,' she said.

  Besson folded his arms, bit his lip and leaned back against the counter, nodding. He stared at her for a minute, considering the situation. There was a lot at stake. His reputation as a coach. People counting on him.

  'Go light the fire pit. Burn whatever you was wearing.'

  Better to be safe though probably not necessary. He'd taken three things into account. By tomorrow night they'd be five thousand miles away across the other side of the Pacific. Also, the freak wouldn't want the attention. But most of all, he wasn't going to admit to being fucked up by a sixteen-year-old girl.

  About the Author

  Eden Sharp started out in film production before going into the music and computer games industries and has also worked variously as an actor, fitness instructor, bartender, and copywriter. Eden has a bachelor’s degree in writing contemporary fiction, a master’s degree in creative and critical writing, and teaches fiction writing and publishing at SSU.

  Acclaim for the series:

  ‘Angela McGlynn would normally be described as the female Jack Re
acher.

  That’s selling her short.’

  Murder, Mayhem & More

  ‘Charlie Fox and Angela McGlynn

  would get along just fine.’

  Zoe Sharp – Author of the Charlie Fox series

  ‘Everything a fast-paced, gritty, West Coast gumshoe thriller ought to be. And more.’

  Andy Martin – Author of Reacher Said Nothing –

  Lee Child and the making of Make Me

  ‘Sharp has a talent for energetic prose. I look forward to more from her

  and the further exploits of McGlynn and Knox.’

  Crime Fiction Lover

  Contact Eden at edensharp.com

  Would you take a moment to help this author?

  Reviews are incredibly important for both authors and readers alike. They help other readers, just like you, to find new books and only take a moment to leave. All feedback whether positive or negative is welcome. Please leave a review on Amazon now. Thank you.