Desert Assassin (24 page)

Two police arrived a few minutes later. After listening to what the couple and the clerk described, they asked for the room key and climbed up the stairs to investigate.

“Take a whiff. What the hell is that?” asked one of the two as they approached the door to the room.

“I don’t know, but you’re going in to find out,” said the ranking cop.

“You’ve got to be kidding. That might be poison.”

“No poison smells like that. At worst it’s a rotting corpse.”

“If it is, it would have had to been in there for days and the clerk said the guy checked in today.”

“Open the door.”

The junior officer unlocked the door, turned the knob and pushed the door open. Both staggered backwards as the fumes raced out of the small room.

The only light coming from the room was from a television screen.

“Let’s wait a few minutes until the molecules thin out,” suggested the junior officer.

“Well, at least you remember something from high school chemistry.”

Weapons drawn, they entered the room eight minutes later. Flipping on the lights, they found the room empty.

“What the hell, where’s the stink coming from?” asked one of them.

“How the hell would I know?”

Checking the room, they found a polo shirt and a pair of jeans hanging in the closet. Beneath them were a pair of black boots and a black belt. On top of the television were ninety-six dollars in bills and a few coins. The senior of the two counted out half the bills and stuck them and the coins in his pocket. His partner grabbed the rest. On the floor were two empty bottles of scotch. One of the two said, “This is goddamn expensive stuff.”

Two more Cuban cigars were lit when the General and Rappaport received the intercepted news.

At about the same time as the third of the last five Marine Assassins ended himself behind the liquor store, state police received an another anonymous phone call. This one, from another male caller, suggested they check a storage shed located behind a house several miles north of Silver City. When they arrived, they found a couple duct taped and gagged, but physically unharmed. The description of the assailant matched that of the naked intruder the state police unsuccessfully searched for in the desert in and around Mule Creek. They assumed, of course, that it was the same person, but were puzzled as to how he had managed to travel so far south. This one, according to the victims, was fully clothed.

Missing was a small amount of food, a cell phone and the couple’s automobile, a 2010 Honda sedan. They had no liquor. A check revealed that the received call was from their cell phone. Hours later, the last surviving Assassin passed by Williams’ house, drove another three miles and left the car well hidden off the road. He then began walking in the direction from which he had come.

“Sir,” said one of the soldiers sent by the General, “we’ve stopped a white male in civilian clothes in your driveway walking toward the house. He is unarmed.”

“Bring him here, please,” said Williams.

“You really did know that an Assassin would come here!” said Fowler after the soldier left.

Williams said nothing.

Having received an earlier call from the General, both Williams and Fowler understood this to be the last of the Assassins. Surrounded by three soldiers, the last Marine Assassin entered the house.

“That will be all, men. Thank you.”

All three hesitated.

Williams stared at them them. They left.

“Please be seated.” Williams turned to Fowler. “Art, would you mind getting Captain Souza a glass of scotch?”

As Fowler headed to the kitchen, Assassin said, “Are you trying to hasten my end?”

“So you know?”

“Yes, it took a while to figure it out, but it seems that we have poisoned ourselves.”

“You have.”

“May I ask your name?”

“Major Bill Williams, United States Army.” As Fowler passed the scotch to Assassin, Williams said, “This is my partner, Sergeant Arthur Fowler, United States Army retired.”

“I have a favor to ask. In return, I may be able to return the favor.”

“What can I do for you?”

“You chose not to end me at the beginning of my existence. Would you explain why and then tell me all that you know of my kind since then?”

“That will take quite some time.”

“This is my ending place. I have the time if you are willing. Please begin with how you found the meteorite.”

“First, how did you know where to find me?”

Assassin detailed how from the beginning of his emergence from the meteorite, Williams traveled from the east, as did the others shortly thereafter. “Your house seemed to be the most promising. Also, as I passed by in the automobile I noticed several buildings behind the garage. No other houses for miles had more than a garage. Before I forget, here is the key to the car. The cell phone and all the money I had are locked in the glove compartment.” He then gave the location of the car.

Williams couldn’t help but wonder how much of this was coming from Assassin and if some might be coming from Captain Souza as Assassin degenerated. He then began by describing how he came upon the meteorite.

When he finished, Assassin said, “I have learned about lotteries from Captain Souza. I believe the odds of you having found my meteorite are greater than the odds of winning one of your two major lotteries.”

“Probably so.”

“Bad luck.”

Williams then began what proved to be a nearly two hour chronology of the important happenings. Assassin asked numerous questions and Fowler often added to what Williams was describing. Williams limited himself to one glass of Merlot. Assassin stopped just short of a half bottle of the scotch when he realized he was losing his ability to concentrate.

Assassin was particularly fascinated with Williams’ account of his encounter with the original Assassin. “So your affinity for scotch saved your life and is about to end mine. Ironic, isn’t it?”

Near the end of the conversation, Williams’ dedicated cell phone to the General rang. Williams flipped the phone to Fowler and said, “Take this outside. Tell him I’m in conference and I’ll call him back when I’m finished.”

“He’s going to ask with who.”

“Captain Souza.”

Fowler returned a couple of minutes later. “I think he shit a brick when I told him you were in conference with the Captain. He asked if you wanted help. I told him no and that everything was under control. He hung up the phone when I told him not to worry that Killer Two’s was closed and we couldn’t add anything to his tab.”

As Williams began to laugh, Assassin said, “I passed by Killer Two’s Diner on the way here. It was open. I take it you go there often.”

“Yes, it is the only place nearby where we can get food and the food is quite good.” Williams went on to briefly describe the diner.

“You both seem to enjoy your existence. I envy you.”

Taken by surprise, neither Williams nor Fowler responded. After a brief pause, Williams said, “Do you remember anything from the time before you emerged from the meteorite?”

“No.”

“According to Major Ling’s notes, Morales Assassin had plans for weapons in his memory. I presume you do as well.”

“Yes. I believe they were programmed into me. They must have been placed to help with survival or conquest. There are no other memories. At least there are none that I can presently find.”

“Would you be willing to share them?”

“No. Your world already has too many weapons. These would only hasten your path of destruction.”

Fowler thought to himself, “Too bad.”

Assassin said, “I am tired and my end is near. Now what I can do for you, or try to do. I will not end myself. Instead, I will try to let the virus, as you call it, slowly end. That, of course, will bring me to an end. There is a chance that Captain Souza will survive and, perhaps, survive without any memory of his time with me. Can you provide me with a place to end in private?”

“My bedroom.”

“Thank you. I would like one final glass of scotch.”

Fowler dashed to the kitchen and returned with the requested scotch.

As Assassin began sipping from the glass, he said, “I have no idea how long my end will take. It might be hours or a day or more.”

Nothing was said during the ensuing seventeen minutes. Glass empty, Assassin said, “I am ready. May I use your bathroom first?”

Williams pointed to the bathroom and said, “I will ready the bedroom for you.”

“Thank you.”

Assassin exited the bathroom, walked to the open bedroom door, turned to face Williams and Fowler, saluted and entered the room, closing the door behind him.

Williams waited for two or three minutes. “Art, tell the sergeant in charge that I want a twenty-four hour guard near my bedroom window. Near, but out of sight of the window. Time to call the General.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-E
IGHT

“A
RE YOU SURE YOU DON’T WANT ME COME?”
asked the General after Williams filled him in on the conversation with the last Assassin, at least the last humanoid Assassin. And with each passing day, the chances of an Eagle Assassin having survived seemed more and more remote.

“Again, I want to keep this place as close to absolutely quiet as possible. I want nothing to jeopardize the possibility of saving Captain Souza.”

“If you need anything, other than food from Killer Two’s, let me know.”

“Can you promote Lieutenant Henderson to captain and offer her a choice of assignment anywhere she wants?”

“I’ll see to it immediately.”

As hour after hour passed, Williams and Fowler took turns sleeping on the rollaway while the other listened for any sounds or movement from the bedroom. Approximately seventeen hours after Assassin walked into the bedroom, faint moaning sounds could be heard from inside of it.

Williams walked to the door and said, “This is Major Bill Williams, United States Army. May I enter the room?”

There was no answer.

Waiting for a minute or so, he repeated the request. The sound of a barely audible yes came through the door. As slowly as possible, Williams entered what had been a near totally dark room. Sensing the light coming through the doorway was bothering what he hoped was Captain Souza-and only Captain Souza – he pushed the door back, leaving an opening of only an inch or two.

“Captain Souza?”

There was no response.

“Captain Souza?”

“Yes. Water.”

Williams turned to the opening and asked Fowler to bring a three-quarter full glass of water. Wearing gloves with water in hand, he slowly walked toward the Captain who was lying on his back with his head resting on a pillow. His body was covered by a sheet and a blanket. Williams put his left hand behind the Captain’s head and began to try to prop it up. Captain Souza let out a scream. Williams lowered his head to the pillow. Back to the doorway, he asked for a washcloth from a closet in the bathroom.

It took fifteen minutes, but Williams managed to use the washcloth to dab the captain’s lips until the glass was empty. He then sat in a chair beside the bed and waited until the Captain seemed to fall back to sleep.

Williams slipped out of room and called the General. “He’s alive and I believe it’s only Captain Souza, no Assassin. Can you send the best available medical team here along with Doctor Stanton? Ask Stanton to bring whatever he needs to see if there is any trace of the virus in his blood.”

“Immediately. What about me?”

“Oh, sorry. Of course, and whoever else you want from the team.”

Shortly before the medical team arrived, Captain Souza had eaten a small amount of food and downed three glasses of water. When he asked Williams what happened to him, he was told that he had contracted a life threatening infection. He showed no indication of any remembrance of time he spent as captive of Assassin.

“My head feels like it was hit with a baseball bat and I can’t remember ever being this weak.”

“An Army medical unit is on the way. You’ll be transferred to the best facility available.”

“Where am I and how did I get here?”

“Because of nature of the infection and the threat it poses, that information is classified. General Barrington is on his way here. He will assume responsibility for your transfer and see to it that you are provided with everything necessary for a full recovery.”

“General Barrington?”

“Yes.”

“This must something big.”

“What is the last thing you remember?”

“I was on leave and picked up some food at a McDonald’s in Silver City on my way to a small town north of it to see a woman I had met before my last tour in Afghanistan.”

“Her name isn’t Sally, is it?”

“No, why?”

“My partner has a good friend named Sally who lives in a town north of Silver City. Sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted.”

“It’s okay. Anyway, I pulled into a rest area and was sitting at a picnic table when I felt a sting on my right arm. There was some black thing stuck in it and there was blood around it. Then I felt something hit the back of my head. That’s the last thing I remember until I woke up here, wherever this is. I wish to hell I knew who hit me.”

“He’s dead. I can’t say anything more.”

“I appreciate hearing that.”

“Think you can handle a steak as good as you’ll find anywhere?”

“That would be great.”

The medical team, along with Stanton, arrived a few minutes before the General, who was accompanied by Rappaport and Morgan. The remaining members of the two teams – McBride, Cyclo, Mueller and Baldarelli – stayed behind on a “just in case” basis. The rest of the General’s troops and Morgan’s men left the Reserve/Silver City area.

Captain Souza finished a Killer Two’s steak dinner and stated that he was beginning to regain some of his strength. “But I still feel like crap.”

Stanton extracted three vials of blood and began examining them using equipment placed on Williams’ kitchen table.

The General, Rappaport, Williams and Morgan met on the back porch where the General announced that Captain Souza would be transferred to the Texas complex. He indicated that he would remain there for whatever time necessary in order to make certain that the virus would not somehow reemerge. This assumed that Stanton would not find any evidence of the virus. Morgan could come and go as he pleased with full access to and all records relating to Captain Souza. Morgan stated that this was more than acceptable.

“Jesse, I would like Jim to return to work with Ralston for as long as it takes to leave no doubt that there are no Assassin Eagles still alive.”

“No problem with that.”

“Working with Ralston is a pleasure,” added Rappaport. “He is a true professional.”

“He will appreciate hearing that. Thank you.”

The conversation turned into a discussion of the events of the past few days. There were a few laughs, most prominent were those centering around the police trying to track down a non-existent naked invader. Twenty-five minutes into the meeting, Stanton yelled out that he could find no trace of the virus or whatever it was that had been in control of Captain Souza.

“I would like to call for a celebration at Killer Two’s,” said the General, “but I believe it is my duty to accompany the Captain to Texas. Jim will leave to join Ralston.” Looking at Williams and Morgan, he added, “Either one of you care to join me?”

Morgan said he would. Williams stated that he had some personal affairs which needed his attention. He added that the stolen car needed to be sanitized and returned. The General said he would see to it.

Within an hour, the only ones remaining were Williams, Fowler, Pezeshki and the two corporals. The General and Morgan decided to leave Pezeshki and the corporals to work in the comm van for the next few weeks. Again, just in case.

“Let’s invite Kevin and treat him to a meal at Killer Two’s. Tomorrow I plan to go to Albuquerque and spend a few days. Care to go along? Maybe you might want to rent a car and spend a couple of weeks vacationing in Reserve.”

“Maybe,” said Fowler with a smile.

A month passed. There was no sign of any humanoid Assassins anywhere. Except for satellite and drone surveillance, the search was terminated. Rappaport and Mitchell had found no trace of Eagle Assassins or any other infected animals. That search continued, but Rappaport handed off the lead to Colonel Faircloth. McBride replaced Mitchell.

A month to the day he left with Fowler to travel to Albuquerque, Williams walked into Killer Two’s Diner.

“Bill, where have you been? I was beginning to think you were kidnapped by the aliens that landed behind your house. Who’s this? Wait. Mary?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“My god, you are beautiful!” Turning to Williams, he said, “Not to say she wasn’t beautiful before, but now she is extra beautiful.”

“It’s okay, Bronislaw, I understand what you are trying to say. Thank you.” Mary reached over the counter and gave Killer Two a kiss on his left cheek.

Killer Two laughed. Looking at Williams, he said, “I could never get her not to call me that.”

He then asked a dozen or more questions. When the last one was answered, the big guy said, “What a great story. I’m happy for the both of you. Now, Mr. and Mrs. Williams, whatever you want, it is on the house.”