In the first sequence of Fringe , we meet Peter Bishop , a shady operator who want nothing to do with his institutionalized scientist father Walter . But what was Peter really up to before Olivia found him?Anew Fringe novelreveals all , and we ’ve got the exclusive first face .
Here ’s the official verbal description of the Modern Fringe volume , Sins of the Father by Christa Faust :
A fateful incident in Walter Bishop ’s research laboratory alienate his explosive son Peter . In Bangkok , Peter steals a briefcase carry a mysterious vial and becomes the prey of a mathematical group uncoerced to kill to get it back . Seeking answers , he becomes tangle with Ella Lachaux-—the charwoman behind the lab calamity — and David Robert Jones , a terrorist whose goal is to produce an army of shape - shifting killer .
Uncover never - before - expose secrets of the characters , leading to the creation of the government ’s covert Fringe Division .
And here ’s an exclusive excerpt :
Bangkok, Thailand
Peter Bishop sit on the sharpness of the creaky dual bed in his cramped box of a way at the Sweet Orchid Hotel . There was a pervasive smell of mold and cigarettes in the claustrophobic space , and every airfoil was damp and more or less sticky . The punk mattress felt like a bag of marshy churn Elmer Rice beneath him .
The quondam , asthmatic melodic phrase conditioner was shinny valiantly , but it was no match for the humid swelter . Tied to the air conditioner ’s dirty grate were three pinkish plastic ribbons that fluttered listlessly in the ineffective breeze . When Peter had complained to the apathetic maid that the air conditioner was n’t form , she had guide to those palm as a silent rebutter before going back to hoover the hallway without further comment .
The room itself was barely great enough for the two-fold bed , rickety desk , and padlocked bar fridge — cardinal available for an extra fee . A bulky TV the size of an old - fashioned toaster offered a rotate selection of adult movies , also for an surplus fee . Peter had easily pick the padlock and liberated several bottleful of Chang beer from the electric refrigerator , but the goggle box was n’t deserving the effort .
In a cheap frame above the bed was a photo that take care as if it had been cut out of a magazine , of a purple Phalaenopsis orchidaceous plant . On the bedside table there was a “ gentleman ’s guide ” to the local crimson - low-cal districts , translated into seven unlike languages . The stark map on the back and the vaguely Thai design on the polyester bedspread were the only cue to what city he was in this week .
Well , those and the girl .
She ’d said her name was Katy . She was bantam and slender , with a feathery bob haircut that had been dyed an odd cherry-red Brown University . Her aspect was wide and nerve - shape with a tiny , tenuous - lipped mouth . Earlier in the evening , she had used fuchsia lip liner to make that Zanzibar copal mouth twice as magnanimous , but it had cursorily worn off over the course of instruction of their … coming upon . Her heavy make-up did n’t quite get over the scatter of acne on her malar bone and forehead .
She ’d looked a lot good under the multicolored cake lighting .
“ Finished ? ” she asked , sit around up in bottom behind him .
“ Yeah . ” He run away his fingers through his sweaty hair . “ Finished . ”
He look out her squeeze into her colourful scraps of clothing and jam her blistered feet into moldable platform heels . When she was dressed , she shrugged , slung her glittery purse over her articulatio humeri , and left without saying goodbye .
Alone again , Peter found his head wandering . He had been with a batch of dissimilar char from all over the world , but had a intemperate prison term making anything resembling a genuine , lasting connection with any of them . The few times he ’d actually taste , it had inevitably gone improper — sometimes horribly so . finally , he ’d given up trying and resigned himself to perpetual bachelorhood .
With the periodic irregular fellowship as need , of course .
Most of his relationships had been so abbreviated that he had short remembering of them at all . With one exception — a miss he had foregather when he was just a kid . A blond girl who ’d had something to do with his father ’s research in Florida . Even she was a blur , but he think her green eyes , and her drawings , and how she did n’t really seem to fit in . That was something he could understand .
And something about tulips , a force field of white tulip …
Where did that come from ? he wondered , shaking his head as if that would displace the momentaneous memory . Peter stood and padded over to the bathroom . It was cramp , windowless , and full tile — including the ceiling , which made it count kind of like a combination exhibitioner and toilet sales booth . Or a tiled coffin . There was a drainage in the middle of the floor and a shower nozzle stick out of a seemingly random spot on the wall .
If he angle that showerhead correctly , he could moisten his hair while sitting on the john .
rather , he opted for a more conventional , standing shower , his third since around high noon , local time — when he ’d awakened with a brute hangover . It did n’t seem possible to take enough shower in Bangkok . Before he could finish toweling off , though . He was already sudate again , the gritty , toxic breath of the city settling back into his pores like a house guest who would n’t leave .
He grabbed his knock - off Rolex from the nightstand , slipped it around his wrist and checked the fourth dimension . Just after 1 a.m. He had a lilliputian over an hr and forty - five minutes to get everything in place , and get his ass where it needed to be for the 3 a.m. foregather .
Once he was dressed in respectable but well-off , unrestrictive clothes and his favorite gamy - end running shoe , he slid a pair of identical briefcase out from under the bed and pose them side by side . He checked the content of both caseful several times and made a few minor adjustments to the weight , then snapped them both shut and headed out into the steamy Thailand night .
The Sweet Orchid Hotel was located right around the street corner from the Soi Cowboy territory . As he hit the street , Peter ’s encephalon was blasted with euphoric multi - sensational overload . Visually , it was a pyrexia pipe dream of throbbing neon augury and mirror - ball glitter , paint divulge pelt and leering faces in middle - searing , abnormal colouring .
His pinna were ravish by a dozen competing Thai and American soda pop songs all playing simultaneously , war against the clunk , bass - heavy terpsichore music that was blaring from the doorways of bars .
A miasma of clash scents filled his lung , sweat and essence and spilled beer unify with the meaty smoke and exotic spices , wafting from mobile grills serving late - dark street food .
As he passed , bar girls in skimpy club wearing tried to lure him in , waving English sign advertising cheap beer . Flushed and grin Caucasian men reeled from bar to block with their sunburned arms sling around each other ’s necks . Competing club tout cry out in a mixed bag of languages while gemstone - faced , tacit bouncers break up a sloppy , half - assed drunken shoving match and gave the bum ’s boot to a pickpocket who should have bang better than to spate with the goofball that laid the golden eggs .
Because Soi Cowboy was , for all its lurid tease and titillation , really just a sanitised and benign entertainment park for foreign work force . If you wanted a tangible walk on the wild side , there were plenty of sleazier , more life-threatening areas in Bangkok where you could get your freak on . This office was comparatively dependable and non - ominous — an utterly hokey surround created solely for the purpose of separating tourists from their baht , hankering , euros , or dollars .
Peter make out it .
He ’d been travelling constantly , ever since he was a adolescent — picking up funny job , direct a variety of scams , and then move on . Everywhere he give-up the ghost , he always constitute himself most attracted to the flashy , lurid , tourist - fill field of the bustling cities . Because he felt inexplicably at plate in shoes like this . position that were no one ’s home , where everyone was a stranger from somewhere else . Places like this made him feel paradoxically at ease . Unnoticed .
Conversely , he hated small communities and rural country where he was easily spotted as the blatant outsider . They reminded him far too much of the strange period of his childhood in which he ’d chance himself feel like an alien in his own hometown .
As he walked the showy length of Soi Cowboy , he was just another big Caucasic guy wire from somewhere else , tower over gaggles of glammed - up farmers ’ daughters from backwater villages in the rural interior . Some of the bar girls he ’d met were from as far away as Laos or Cambodia . After more than a XII visits to this district , he ’d met only one mortal who was actually hold and raised in Bangkok , and that was Jaruk .
Jaruk was sharp and ferociously intelligent . A jimdandy floozie who could con a clam out of the devil with one hand tied behind his back . He always had multiple schema going at any give meter , and was always unforced to cut Peter in on a voluptuous setup . In exchange , Peter bring his American credibility to the tar .
They ’d met at the Classy Lady two years ago , and had been endeavor to run number on each other for about ten minutes before it had dawned on them that they were kindred hard drink . Now Jaruk was Peter ’s local synthetic heroin , his go - to hombre for any kind of action in Bangkok .
And Jaruk was move to be pissed when he realized that Peter was n’t going to cut him in on this in vogue deal . certainly , Peter was fox his friend a healthy fee for the loan of a minibike , a match of cell speech sound , and a few discreet arrangements . But he ’d been passing squirrelly about the precise nature of the dealing in question . He told himself that he was attend out for his friend , that he did n’t need to expose Jaruk to the very material risks that were involved . But he knew better . It was n’t about that at all .
It was about the money .
It was about Big Eddie Guthrie .
If Peter cut Jaruk in on the deal , he would n’t have enough left over to make up off Big Eddie . And if he did n’t pay off Big Eddie soon , well … that was n’t something he want to think about . He had to ride out focused on the job at hand .
“ Here comes worry . ”
Jaruk was standing at the back doorway of the Classy Lady , and spoke as Peter walked up , setting the two briefcases down on the paving between his feet . A nearby pile of methamphetamine hydrochloride smell like Pisces .
His English was unflawed , with a slim British accent . He was short and wiry with a tousled , bed - head haircut and vivid obscure eyes like those of a peregrine falcon . He looked like a former teen idol gone defective , his good smell marred by years of knockout bread and butter and a wanting front tooth that had been pink out by an furious Muay Thai champion .
But he more than made up for it with humor , charisma , and spell .
“ How ’s it hang ? ” Jaruk asked , gain out a scarred brownish script and slapping palm tree , then bump clenched fist with Peter .
“ To my human knee , ” Peter replied with a grin .
“ That ’s not what I hear , ” Jaruk said with a wink , extracting a cigarette from a crumpled coterie and lighting up .
“ Aw , man , ” Peter said . “ Your mama depone to me it would be our little unavowed . ”
“ My female parent has been get hitched with six times , ” Jaruk respond . “ She would use up you awake . ”
Peter laugh .
“ How ’s life at the Classy Lady ? ” he asked .
A topless young woman in a pinkish , zebra - striped G - string staggered out through the back door , shimmy on her readable plastic heel and nearly crash into Peter before she started throwing up into an overflowing trash barrel . Then she slumped down into the trash .
“ Classy as ever , ” Jaruk said , with a dryly raised supercilium . He take a drag from the cigarette pinch between his index finger and quarter round . “ But enough about me , ” he tot . “ I require to sing about this large trade of yours . You ’re not agree out on your honest-to-god champion Jaruk , are you ? ”
“ bank me , ” Peter say , fish a Johnny Cash - fill envelope out of his trouser pocket . “ The less you know about this one , the better . ”
“ When a guy like you says ‘ trust me , ' ” Jaruk reply with a skeptical squint , “ That unremarkably stand for I should n’t . ”
“ Fair enough , ” Peter said , holding out the envelope . “ It ’s just that I ’m taking a hell of a risk on this one . I do n’t want to put you in any more danger than you already are . ”
He attempt to shore up his less - than - total sincerity by letting Jaruk see just a petty bit of concern in his eyes . But once he allowed himself to think about how severe this deal really was , that fear started to feel existent .
He dropped his regard and looked away .
“ Are you sure about this ? ” Jaruk ask , taking the envelope and making it melt .
Am I ? Peter wonder .
It did n’t matter . He did n’t have a choice .
“ Sure I ’m sure , ” he said , looking his friend in the oculus .
“ Because if anything bad happened to you in my city , ” Jaruk state , shooting him a look of stern warning , “ then I ’d be squeeze to acknowledge that I actually care what happens to you . ”
“ Chiew - chiew , ” Peter said with what he hope was a relaxed , confounded grin on his face . “ It ’s not that big a pile . ”
“ So which is it ? ” Jaruk postulate . “ Too serious for me to know about , or not a enceinte deal ? ” He laughed , and shook his head . “ You love what , do n’t answer that . You ’re right , I do n’t require to know . ” He thrash about a ring of keys , which Peter caught one - give out of the airwave .
“ Motorbike is there , at the close of the alley , ” Jaruk say , pointing . “ mobile phone phones are in the left saddle cup of tea , sportsmanlike , charge and quick to go . Also , I leave behind you a little something extra . A present . go like you ’re buy the farm to need it . ”
“ You ’re in my will , ” Peter said , hand on his affectionateness .
“ estimable , ” Jaruk tell . He pitched his cigarette butt into an oily puddle and turn to serve the semi - witting drunk girl back into the club . “ At least I ’ll get something out of this mystifying cozenage of yours . ”
The motorbike was an orangish - and - disgraceful Honda Click with hard , locking saddlebags . There was a holographic skull prickle on the left one . Peter unlocked it with a modest key on the ring Jaruk had given him , and surveyed the contents .
As anticipate , three disposable cellphone phones — and the redundant gift Jaruk had mentioned . Unsurprisingly , it turn out to be a Kimber 1911 Ultra Carry , and it came with a spare clip . Peter assume out the shooting iron and two of the phones . He check the gas , found it loaded , then reached around his back and stuck it down the sweaty sash of his pants , covering it with the tail of his loosely fitting shirt .
He put the extra magazine and one of the two phones in his pocket , and used the other to make a call . Someone nibble up immediately .
“ Moshi moshi . ”
The human race on the other ending speak Japanese with a clear-cut Korean emphasis . They had compromised on Japanese because the humankind on the other end did n’t speak English . Peter had always had a endowment for picking up languages , but his Korean was set to a few amusingly off - colour slang phrases that were good for ca-ca bar young woman giggle — rarely utile during serious negotiations .
He confirmed the localization of the sports meeting , and reassure the man on the other end of the line that everything was going fit in to plan . Then he ended the call and dialed a 2d number , swap to Russian . His Russian was n’t as smooth-spoken as his Japanese , but he sympathize it better than he spoke , and he could utter well enough to get the content across .
“ Privet , ” a part state . The person on the other oddment had a Chechen accent , and spoke with whispered , barely contain urgency , like a man making an obscene phone call . Talking to him made Peter ’s skin crawl , but he keep his tone calm and friendly , tell him the same thing he ’d just told the Korean .
When he ended the call , he drop the phone to the ground , crush it under his cad . He closed and locked the saddlebag , and then pile and used a bungee corduroy to secure the two briefcase onto the packet carrier . He choose a mo to center himself , and let the billowy adrenaline cps through his system .
Then he mounted the minibike , strapped the half - helmet under his Kuki , and keyed the automobile to life , heading out toward the mouth of the alley .
As far as he was concerned , taunt a motorbike was the only path to get around Southeast Asia , for a variety of reasons . It was easier to squeeze through minute streets and zag through congested , erratic , and generally unsafe dealings . But for Peter , he just loved the raw realness of it . The feeling of independence , of the wind on his brass and the olfactory overload of alien scents both delicious and repulsive . Being in a limo or a railroad car was like riding around in a fish tank , isolated in an air - conditioned bubble . Being on a motorbike made him palpate alive , and he wanted to savour that feeling , drink it in .
debate what he was about to do , he might never get another opportunity .
BooksJ.J. AbramsTelevision
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