Cold Sanctuary (John Decker Series Book 2) (20 page)

52

Dominic Collins paced back and forth in the lab that now doubled as his makeshift monitoring station. On the screen behind him, relayed via the camera set up in the quarantine wing, the creature still stood in the middle of its cell, head turned toward the ceiling. There was no sound now, however. Dominic had spent ten minutes listening to that eerie, godforsaken wailing, and then turned the volume down. Something about the strange vocalization rattled his nerves.

The door flew open and Adam Hunt entered.

Dominic turned toward him, slightly disturbed that he hadn’t heard the other man’s approach. He knew Adam had trained with the Marines, but the way he just appeared, as if by magic, was as frightening as the creature in the cell down the hall.

Almost.

“What have you got for me?” Hunt pulled up a seat and dropped into it. The chair groaned under the weight of his muscular frame. “This had better be good. I have a lot to do.”

“It’s that thing.” Dominic waved a hand toward the monitor. “The monster you have me studying.”

“What about it?” Hunt glanced toward the screen, and then turned his attention back to the scientist.

“It isn’t acting…” Dominic searched for the word he wanted. “It isn’t acting right.”

“Acting right?” Hunt leaned back. “You’ve been down here with it for a whole two days. That’s hardly enough time to determine what counts as normal behavior for something like that.”

“I know.” Dominic said. “I am a scientist after all.”

“Then what?” There was a tinge of annoyance in Hunt’s voice. “Please enlighten me.”

“It’s been very predictable so far.” Dominic swallowed. His lips felt dry. “It lunges at the glass whenever I’m near. It cowers in the corner most of the time when I’m not. It eats, it sleeps-“

“Is there a point to this?”

“Yes. Bear with me.”

“Then hurry up,” Hunt said. “Cut to the chase.”

“Right.” Dominic wished he had a glass of water. “Well, it isn’t doing those things anymore.”

“I can see that.” Hunt’s eyes flicked to the screen, to the video feed of the creature in the middle of the cell, silently wailing. “So what
is
it doing exactly?”

“It might be better if I show you, or rather, let you listen.” Dominic moved to the monitor. He reached out and brought the sound up. As he did so the dismal wail filled the room, plaintive and dreadful. Dominic suppressed a shudder.

“So?” Hunt said. “It’s making a noise. Hell, I’d make a noise if I was stuck in there too.”

“It’s not just the noise,” Dominic explained. He turned the volume down again, thankful to get rid of the creature’s lament. “I’ve noticed other things too. It appears to be changing. I need to ask you something.”

“Go on.”

“You said that this used to be a man?”

“Yes.” Hunt nodded.

“How long ago?”

“A few weeks.” Hunt cupped his hands behind his head. He came across too calm for someone talking about a mutated monster, Dominic thought. The man appeared to have ice running through his veins. “There were two of them. They were trying to steal one of the old experiments.”

“Yes, I read that in the report you filed.” Dominic nodded. “I also found the old scientific notes rather interesting. It seems they were working on some kind of super soldier serum. That’s not the official name of course, but it seems to fit. Nasty stuff. It didn’t quite work out for the test subjects back in the day.”

“It didn’t exactly work out for our two thieves either,” Hunt said. “They succumbed to it pretty quick.”

“That’s just it. They still are.” Dominic glanced at the monitor. “At least the one we have. He’s still changing. His metabolic rate is through the roof, and the muscle growth he’s experiencing is unbelievable. I don’t even need to sedate him and run tests to see the new muscle mass. And then there are the scales. They seem to be some sort of armor plating. Tell me, do you know if they used any marine DNA in the original experiments?”

“Beats me.” Hunt shrugged. “I’m just the caretaker here. You’re the scientist.”

“Indeed.” Dominic paused and licked his lips. “I have one more question.”

“Yes?”

“What happened to the other man?”

53

For a long moment Silas Mitchell sat on the edge of the bed in silence, the cell phone still in his hand. Outside, on the balcony, he caught a snatch of conversation, angry voices, a male and a female. He could not make out what they were saying; only the tone of their voices carried through the thin walls. It was probably a couple of lovers quarreling, or another guest annoyed about the state of their room. Either way, it was an unwelcome distraction.

He blocked out the sound and focused on the issue at hand.

His instincts were correct. Something had happened to his colleagues. This did not surprise him. The thought that they had bolted with the merchandise to sell on the black market without him would have come as more of a shock. Yet he had entertained that idea, if only because experience had told him not to take anything for granted.

Now he possessed positive proof that Jerry and Boyd had met with foul play. They would never have willingly ignored protocol, and certainly would not have allowed anyone else to use the phone.

He had his answer.

The question now became, what should he do about it?

He did not know who had called him, and what role they played in the disappearance of his friends, but they had made a grave mistake by powering on the phone.

He stood and went to the desk opposite the bed. Like all the other furniture in the room, the desk was made of cheap particle board. It was barely holding together on one side, and someone had driven two long wood screws through the legs to keep them from detaching.

When he sat down the table moved, leaning to the right, and he shot a hand out to steady it.

He opened his laptop and waited for it to wake up, then clicked on an unassuming icon attached to the desktop. He had installed the app a couple of years before, acquiring it from a government software developer who owed him a favor. It was a pretty simple piece of software, or at least the theory of it was. As long as the corresponding phone app was running in the background, he could track any phone running the software. But this was not a run of the mill location tracker that provided only a vague location overlaid onto an open source map. This was the same software the military used to track their assets and the CIA employed to keep tabs on targets. Running in the background, and completely invisible to the user, it could find a phone anywhere in the world, even if the phone itself was turned off. The one caveat was that the battery must have enough juice to run the software, which must be why he was not able to track the phone until now. But the minute the device was powered on and charged, the app connected and used the GPS inside the phone to transmit information, accurate to less than three feet. Not only that, but unlike the apps used by worried fathers to spy on their teenage daughters, this could provide detailed three-dimensional data. Even if the phone were at the top of the Empire State Building the software would find it. Not just the latitude and longitude, but the altitude too. Then all he needed to do was home in on the location, and voila.

The laptop app finished loading.

Silas clicked a few menu items, his finger gliding over the computer’s track pad with practiced ease. He waited for the software to do its thing, and then, a moment later, a topographical map opened up. Above this raw terrain, multiple layers of data were pulled in from a geographical information systems database. Bit by bit, the town appeared before his eyes. Roads, buildings, even the harbor.

It took less than a minute for the laptop to compile the information and display the entire map. When it finished, his hands flew over the keyboard, typing commands.

The screen changed again, the map shifting to the side to present a 3D view of the local area rendered in wireframe. In a box to the right was a satellite image of the same area, no doubt pulled from a military satellite as it passed overhead. The date tag was less than two months old. With a few keystrokes Silas combined the two, and suddenly the wireframe city was filled with detail. It was like looking at a photograph, except that this image was fully rendered from every angle. Now he could view any point on the map as if he were actually standing there looking at it.

But there was only one place he was interested in, the red pulsating dot that identified the location of the cell phone. As he had suspected, it was in the south tower, on Floor 5.

He tapped out a few more keystrokes and returned the 3D render to a flat map, keeping his eyes on the red dot and its position. Next he accessed the web, browsing to the Shackleton town website, and found the section of the site that contained real estate listings. There were no apartments available on the fifth floor, but there was one for rent on Floor 7, and there was a floor map provided to show exactly where the apartment was located.

Silas grinned. This was too easy.

It was likely that all the residential floors followed the same basic layout, so all he needed to do was compare the location of the red dot within the building on the map to the floor plan, and he would know which apartment the phone currently resided in.

He sat there for a moment, looking at the screen, and then opened the desk drawer. He reached in, pushing aside an old copy of the Bible with a worn red cover. His fingers closed over a familiar object, his Luger P08 semi-automatic. It was an antiquated weapon, but one with which he felt a deep personal connection.

He stood and went to the closet, retrieved his shoulder holster, buckled it on, and slid the Luger inside, then threw a coat over the top, zipping it all the way up to make sure no one would see the gun. Then he went to the motel room door, opened it, and slipped out in the direction of the south tower.

54

Mina sat on the worn sofa in her living room, eyes closed, her hands pressed into her lap. The gentle rise and fall of her chest gave the impression that she was sleeping, but in reality she was anything but asleep.

It was only after Decker left, returning to his own accommodations five floors above, that the true enormity of the day’s events started to sink in. She had collapsed onto the sofa, a great weariness enveloping her. She suddenly felt drained, worn out.

Sleep proved elusive, however. Instead, the close encounter with the creature played in her mind as if she were watching a movie in which she took the lead role. The scene repeated over and over, and each time it ended with the creature catching her, throwing her against the wall, and then tearing into her with those sharp, needlelike teeth.

In her head she never escaped.

Just like Wilder and Verne Nolan had not escaped.

She wondered what they felt in those last moments. What went through Wilder’s mind in the minutes before his death? Did he know he was about to die, or did he fight until the bitter end, believing he would find a way to survive? She would never know, but that didn’t mean she could stop thinking about it.

Frustrated, she stood and walked to the window, looking out over the town toward the bay. It was getting dark now. The sun dipping below the horizon, and the sky was alight with fiery reds and yellows. Beneath this canopy the town twinkled, each street lamp a pale yellow point of light in the dusky gloom. Her eyes fell to the bait and tackle store, now quiet and deserted. Gone were ambulances, the police helicopters, and the gawkers. It was as if the horrendous events that had taken place there had never occurred. 

But they had. And they would keep on happening until someone put a stop to them. She knew who that someone was, she only hoped Decker could do it before the creature struck again.

Her gaze wandered to the north tower. Was the creature still inside that building, or was it on the prowl right now, looking for its next victim? She shuddered and turned from the window.

At that moment there was a sharp knock on her door.

55

Mina stopped in her tracks, surprised.

The knock came again, short and urgent.

She crossed the room and answered, not bothering with the security chain. She expected to see Decker standing in the hallway, but instead she found a slim, rakish looking man in his fifties, dressed in a pair of dark suit pants and a white shirt. A wool topcoat hung from his shoulders. Despite his formal dress there was something menacing about the way he stood.

She stepped back, caught off guard by the sudden appearance of this stranger. “Can I help you?”

The man looked at her for a long moment before his gaze wandered past her into the apartment. “I’m looking for someone. A man.”

“Sorry, just me here.” She reached for the door, ready to close it, eager to put something solid between herself and the stranger.

“You’re lying.”

The conviction of his words sent a shudder through Mina. She gripped the door to swing it closed, but at that moment the stranger’s foot shot forward and blocked it.

“That’s very rude, don’t you think?” A flash of anger passed over his face, but then it was gone. “I’ll ask you once more, where is the man?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mina glanced sideways, to the baseball bat leaning against the wall near the kitchen, the same one she had taken with her to the north tower earlier that day. She admonished herself for not leaving it closer to the door, within easy reach. It was a stupid mistake. Maybe she could make a break, lunge for the bat and reach it before the stranger could react.

“Don’t be stupid,” the man said, reading her eyes. He slipped a hand under his coat, emerging with a sleek black pistol. “Now why don’t you invite me in?”

Mina froze, weighing her options. If she made a break for the baseball bat the stranger might shoot her. She could not close the door, and screaming would certainly draw a few neighbors, but then who knew what would happen? She might end up dead, and take several other people with her. She could run for the bedroom and barricade herself in, but the gun pointed at her chest suggested she would never make it. In the end she stepped aside to let the stranger enter.

“A wise decision.” The stranger stepped across the threshold, closing the door as he did so. He looked around. “Where is he?”

“Who?” Mina suspected she knew who the man was looking for.

“Your friend, the one who called me.”

Mina stiffened. So she was right. He was looking for Decker. She wondered how he had tracked her down, how he knew the call had come from her apartment. “He’s not here.”

“So you’re alone?”

“Yes.” Mina swallowed a lump of fear. She looked at the gun. If she was going to be killed, she at least wanted to know the name of her killer. “Who are you?”

“That’s not important.”

“So you don’t have a name?”

“Silas. Now stop asking questions.” He surveyed the living room and kitchen, making sure to keep the gun aimed at her, and then stepped away, toward the bedroom. “There had better not be anyone hiding in here.”

“There isn’t.” She watched him cross to the door and stick his head in, suddenly remembering the bag still open on the bed. She cursed herself for not hiding it again after Decker had left. Her only hope was that he didn’t recognize it.

When he spoke again her heart fell.

“Where did you get that?” Silas waved the gun, motioning for her to step into the bedroom. Once inside he followed and went to the bag, inspecting it. “Well?”

“I found it.” That much at least was true.

“Just like that, huh?” He pulled back the flap and peered inside. “Where did you find it?”

“The north tower.” She could not see that it mattered if she told him where they had found the bag. Plus, there was a slim chance that the man would leave if she cooperated. “It was stuffed under a desk.”

“That’s convenient.”

“It’s the truth.” Mina did her best to keep the fear out of her voice. She had no intention of showing this man how frightened she was.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Silas rifled through the contents of the bag, pulling out the floor plans, the bundle of key cards. “There’s no phone here.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Yes, you do. Your friend used it to call me less than an hour ago, from this very apartment.”

“How could you know that?”

“I have my ways.” Silas paused. “Since the phone is not in the bag, and you clearly don’t have it or you would have handed it over already, that means your boyfriend has it. That makes things easier. I would like to have a little chat with him.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Mina retorted.

“Do I look like I care?” Silas produced a cell phone from his pocket. It was identical to the phone they had found in the bag. “Why don’t we give your friend a call and invite him to the party?”

He dialed and put the phone to his ear.

Mina heard Decker answer, his voice thin and tinny over the small speaker.

Silas looked up, his eyes holding her gaze, and then spoke, a chilling edge to his voice. “If you want the girl to keep breathing, you had better be here in the next two minutes.” Silas paused, and then added an afterthought. “One more thing. I’m sure you have a gun. Don’t bring it with you. If I see so much as a hint of a weapon, she dies. Comprende?”

              She heard Decker reply. He would come unarmed.

              “Excellent,” Silas replied, his mouth twisting into a grin. “Now hurry up. Clock’s ticking.”