Pocketbook Novels & Stories

I had this little tool that always came in handy when taking jobs that required unlocking 'secret doors'. So I opened my 'all purpose' purse. I call it 'all purpose' because it has a little device to unlock doors, hack into large computer systems, break holes, tranquilize if necessary and many more. This purse is not too big, not too small, that it can fit into any of my big pockets. So I made the inner pockets of my suit to be big enough to contain this purse, and at the same time stay hidden. Cool isn't?

“And what would that be?” “I want your ledger.” Cutter laughed, struggling to stifle a cough. “What the fuck are you talking about?” “Your black book. The ledger you keep locked away. The one that contains your club’s contacts, business associates, bank codes. You know the one I’m talking about.”

He wouldn’t be needing his belongings anytime soon, and she desperately needed any advantage she could find. Moving with a quiet purpose, she knelt beside him, her senses still on high alert, scanning the surrounding trees for any sign of movement. Her fingers deftly went through his pockets, finding a crumpled packet of cheap cigarettes, a few coins, and a worn leather wallet. Inside the wallet, amidst a collection of faded photographs and a couple of small denomination bills, she found it, a small, generic burner phone. It was old, scratched, and likely had limited battery, but it was a lifeline. A surge of relief mixed with renewed urgency coursed through her.

He was in his late 20; dark and taller than I was; that I never cared about - moreover, I looked older than I was. There was a book on his desk titled 'Cashflow Quadrant' by Robert Kiyosaki. I was taking a glance at the book when my phone rang. It was Automatic calling. "Yo Auto! Sup my g?" "Pretty good fam, where you at?" "I am in Capital city, I want to get a new controller to replace that faulty one."

He quickly responds with he will see me soon and I love you. I reply the same and shut the phone off. I open the bedside cabinet and pull out the phone I bought a few days ago. I power it up, Andros doesn’t have this number, only zio does. I walk to the walk in and grab my luggage that I had prepared a short while ago out quickly throw on my converse, grab my jacket and check I have my passport and all the legal documents I have in my carry on. Giving the room a once over, I walk out.

Jacob laughed. “I’ll kick your ass too!” I said as I glared at him. “Kris! We have one more surprise for you.” Penny yelled from behind my front desk. “What?” I looked confused. She walked out carrying a massive book. I recognized what it was right away. It’s the type of book that you use for a portfolio. “You got me a new book?” “Kinda.” Penny showed me the cover. It had a Black Moon with two wolves howling. The leather was fresh as I could smell it. Alec took the cover and opened it for me.

** Please add this book to your library as well as my other books as well Thanks.

I waved both of my hands, hoping she would know that I am grateful. "Oh right, I forgot..." She said before she reached in to the front pocket of her pink apron. The woman pulled out a pink mini notebook with a snap button and a small pen tucked in the gap of the strap. "Here." She said as she offered me the notebook. Accepting the book with both of my hands, I looked down at it with confusion. "I thought it might come in handy. Besides it's small enough to fit in to a wide pocket so you can carry it anywhere." The woman said.

The better to blend with shadows. On his feet were laced Nikes, all the better to run in. Because pockets weren't exactly plentiful-and ruined the line of his suit-he tossed his wallet, phone, and keys inside the trunk for his car. But before he shut the lid, he leaned in to grab an ornate box. Less box and more a coffin for ashes. Roderick's ashes. No matter how many times he did this over the years, the thought of what he had to do wasn't any more palatable. He flipped the lid and grimaced. The gray, ashy contents exuded a burned-pork-roast aroma. When human, he'd preferred beef.

There was nowhere left to hide. He had to go. Now. Hobbling to his feet, his body a symphony of fresh agony, he began to search the body. No wallet. No phone. No ID. The clothes were plain, mundane. A phantom. But phantoms sometimes carried messages. In the front pocket of the man's tactical pants, his fingers brushed against something small and rectangular. He pulled it out. It was a flash drive. Smooth metal, plain except for one word etched in a sharp, modern font: