The Milestone Protocol by Ernest Dempsey (best books to read in your 20s txt) 📕

“Not to mention ditching the car.”

“It’s almost as if you think I don’t have a plan in place for every contingency,” Magnus groused.

“You have a plan for this?” Kevin motioned to the back seat with a jerk of his right thumb.

“Of course I do.” He noticed the exit coming up on the right. “This is the one. Pull off up here.”

Kevin frowned. “There’s nothing here but a bunch of old Soviet factories.”

“Just do it.”

“Okay, fine.”

Kevin steered the vehicle down the exit ramp and stopped at the bottom of the hill. “Now where to?”

“Go right. Straight at the next intersection, then in two blocks you’ll pull into an old junkyard.”

“Seriously?”

Magnus fired him an irritated glare.

Kevin responded by stepping on the gas and turning right onto the road. He followed the directions, going through the intersection and then, after traveling two more blocks, slowed down next to a chain-link fence that wrapped around an old junkyard.

“How did you know this place was here?” Kevin wondered.

“I own it. One of my operatives is meeting us here to handle the situation.”

Kevin accepted the answer and turned into the driveway where two guards held open the gate. Once the car was through, the two men in gray coats and pants closed both sides of the barrier.

“Over there, by the main building,” Magnus said, indicating a rectangular two-story concrete building with a metal roof. Compared to the piles of junk and debris everywhere, the structure looked almost new.

A black BMW 8 Series sat next to the entrance, along with two black Range Rovers.

Four men in black stepped out of the SUVs and stood by them as Kevin pulled up next to the building.

“Here is fine,” Magnus said, and Kevin stopped the car. “Get out.”

“Okay, okay. You don’t have to be rude. I’m going.”

Kevin got out and stood by the open door, looking at the other men with a suspicious gaze. He was the picture of discomfort and insecurity with one shoulder slumped lower than the other and hands in his pocket.

Magnus, on the other hand, had full command of the situation. “The one in the back needs medical attention,” the Swede said. “Take care of the car, too.”

“Yes, sir,” said one of the men standing by the SUV on the right.

At once, he stepped toward the car and climbed into the driver’s seat. He shifted into gear as he closed the door and drove the car over to a vacant spot near a pile of compressed metal, plastic, and other rubbish.

“Your car is ready, sir,” another man said, motioning to the 8 Series.

“Excellent. Thank you all,” Magnus said genuinely.

Kevin couldn’t take his eyes off the sedan at the other side of the lot. He watched in rapt curiosity as the driver got out and opened the back door. Before Kevin could ask Magnus where the man was going to receive medical attention, the driver drew a pistol and fired three shots into the back seat.

“What the—” Kevin stopped himself and continued watching, his curiosity replaced by sheer horror as a crane maneuvered a magnet toward the car and then centered over the roof.

The huge disc lowered and attached to the roof of the sedan, then picked it up off the ground as though it were a child’s toy. The crane slowly swung the car over to a platform with three normal walls and a fourth that was tilted at an angle and propped up by two hydraulic pistons. The crane operator lowered vehicle into the container, and when the tires touched the bottom, he switched off the magnet and pulled the disc away.

A man in a control box above the crusher pressed a button, and a lid slid over the top of the vehicle. Then it slowly pushed down, driven by two more hydraulics from above. Kevin shook his head as he watched the powerful machine smash the car into half its size.

“Are you coming?” Magnus asked, interrupting Kevin’s view of the macabre scene.

He tore his eyes away from the crusher as the side wall raised until it was parallel, then started moving in to squeeze the destroyed vehicle on both sides.

“Yes,” Kevin said. Fear and a hint of regret smothered his tone.

It wasn’t lost on Magnus.

The two men climbed into the back of the BMW, and the driver started the vehicle with the push of a button.

When the car began to move, Magnus spoke, though he kept his gaze out the window. “You are disturbed by what you saw?”

“No,” Kevin lied. “I mean, I’ve never been to a salvage yard or seen a car crushed like that in person. Only in the movies.”

“You shouldn’t lie to me, Dr. Clark. I know it bothers you. I can tell. Body language speaks louder than any words from a person’s lips.”

“I…I thought you were going to get him help.”

Magnus huffed. “We did help him. We gave him mercy, the greatest mercy that can be given.”

“You killed one of your own men,” Kevin whined. “Am I next?”

“I would hope not.” There was no lie in the statement. “But if you are wounded as he was, we may not have a choice. Although at our bunker on Svalbard, we have medical professionals, people who can take care of these things.”

Kevin pondered the statement before speaking again. “Please don’t take offense when I say this, but I thought you controlled everything.”

Magnus stared out at the passing homes and businesses on the street for another three seconds, then turned to face Kevin. “I do not take offense, not often. Second, one of the secrets to controlling everything is knowing that you don’t control everything.”

Kevin stared back at him, blank-faced.

“People are not robots, Dr. Clark.” Magnus returned to the window. “Sheep, definitely, but not robots. They think for themselves unless otherwise guided. Whenever possible, it is always best to remain in the shadows. Could I have pulled strings to get that man the help he needed? Of course. But it would have taken time. We don’t control all the