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Gross Domestic Product :20

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Chapter 20.
Buer had been aware that Morton would send people to follow him. He did not have high expectations for the meeting but it was over, time to progress with the original plan, though the agents of Morton would have to be dealt with before he arrived at his next destination. An amusing diversion no doubt but in the meantime he would have to keep driving.
He enjoyed the motorway, enjoyed the huge lorries that rumbled beside him, each one a massive risk, threatening to suck his little vehicle under their great deadly wheels. He wondered what such sensations would be like, how long it would take for Bryce’s body to eject him and for a glorious return to non-existence. He imagined the mangled flesh and screeching nerve endings, the panicked pumping of the dying heart, the scent of Bryce’s innards steaming in the cold morning, the agony of shattered bone piercing muscle, the weight of thirty odd tonnes of metal crushing the body. It was tempting, an allure which was intoxicating, ha…

Gross Domestic Product: 19

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Chapter Nineteen.
The car pulled up outside Baird’s house about twenty minutes after Connor’s bizarre meeting with the little girl and woman. The couple that emerged were both young, both in their late twenties, early thirties at the oldest. The woman, a short plump redhead nodded his way. “Yeardley? I’m Evelyn Stirling, I hear we might have a class four?”
“Yes, hello. It’s in here.” He said gesturing toward the Baird residence.
She nodded as her partner, pulled out what looked like photographic equipment cases from the back of the car. The young man smiled. “Could you give me a hand with this ontoscope by any chance?” he asked.
Ontoscope? Connor didn’t recognise the word, but got the general gist of its function. “Sure,” he said and helped pull one of the cases from the back seat. It was heavy.
“I’m Ernie,” the young man said. He seemed nervous, excited.
“Yeah,” Connor replied. He walked back towards the gate where Evelyn Stirling was standing. She was staring at the house, analysing it…

Gross Domestic Product: 18

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Chapter Eighteen
Morton was out of his depth and he knew it, the creature wearing Tommy Bryce’s flesh was not some mere bogle that haunted the closes of tenements, giving fright to pensioners, not was it even one of the Fae folk. This was something of a different magnitude. It exuded power, it was a kind of a dreadful but alluring stench. He felt like prey caught downwind of a lion. It was, as far as he could tell, given the evidence, the manifestation of cruelty, an independent, terrifyingly perceptive and intelligent thing. He knew he would have to be very, very cautious. He also realised he needed to show confidence, balls, in front of this entity. He went to speak but was cut off.
“You are about to ask me what it is I want, why I came here, who I am and a hundred other questions that are of no importance. The only question, the one all of you truly seek an answer to is how I can give you more power.” Buer stated. He had not moved from the position he had taken when he’d sat down.

Gross Domestic Product: 17

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Chapter Seventeen
After checking in, Connor spent the morning in his functional but nondescript hotel room, catching up with some paperwork, making calls to both the Department and The O.A. He went out for lunch to a small Italian restaurant in the city centre. The meal was average but it helped kill a couple of hours. Connor hated waiting around. So, back to the hotel he went, deciding to take a short nap, since he’d been up so early.
Unfortunately he returned to find a message waiting for him from the Department. There was little of substance to the note, which once decrypted revealed there had been some murders at a bookmakers which were tangentially related to one of the occult gangland groups that had been, years earlier, caught up in the Drumchapel possession case. The name Alec Morton rang a vague bell but Connor could not recall much about the man. The message was nothing important, just a note to keep a heads-up while he was in town, even though the Department did have a coupl…

Gross Domestic Product:16

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Chapter Sixteen.
Buer could sense the sun going down. He had waited in the lock-up for hours, going over what his actions would be over the following few hours, a plan was put in place. Bryce’s mind had spilled out all sorts of useful information as it fell apart. By now Alec Morton would be looking for him. It was time to put his plan into action.
He stretched out of the sitting position he was in, and in one movement was up on his feet. The night was cold outside, he could feel it before he exited the railway arch. He locked the door, got in the car, and drove out from the city towards one of the southern suburbs. He knew exactly where he was going.
The journey wasn’t far and so Buer amused himself by turning on the radio, listening to the mindless chatter from the humans on it. Their child-like music, so simple and repetitive, amused him greatly. The news came on. Germany was to be re-unified. When he had last been here it hadn’t even been torn apart by the events he had engineered. B…

Gross Domestic Product: 15

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Chapter Fifteen.
The single tarot card lay face up on the table. It had a grey border with some Egyptian motif and in the centre, there was the picture, a painting of nine blood red swords. At the top of the card was the number 9 and at the bottom the word “Swords”. Atop this, the word “Cruelty” had been superimposed. Morton’s finger tapped on the card again. “I’m no’ happy.” He stated.
Both Willie and Skinner had already predicted that much. Skinner didn’t really care about Morton’s emotional well-being. “That’s neither here nor there Alec. The fact remains, we’ve got a problem.”
Morton stared at Skinner, his hatred of him written across every line in his face. Skinner noticed quite a few more lines seemed to have been added in the intervening hour or so.
“Shut the fuck up, you,” He hissed at Skinner. The words were spat out with such venom that Skinner decided shutting the fuck up was probably his best option of staying alive. Morton’s eyes were glaring, suppressing a rage. “Is this le…