Desert Assassin (8 page)

C
HAPTER
N
INE

A
T THE START OF DAY THREE
following the attack on the tarantula, Assassin began to flatten.

Williams was asleep in a tent when one of Morgan’s men came up to the opening. “Major, Morg needs to see you ASAP.”

“Where?”

“His chopper.”

“I’ll be there in four.” Williams quickly dressed and was off.

“He’s flattening,” said Morgan, whose gaze was fixed on the satellite feed.

What transpired over next few minutes defied comprehension, leaving both men astounded. By the time Assassin finished its latest transformation, its length exceeded three feet, while its height crested at well over a foot and a half. All of the features were in place except for the kangaroo rat fur which had been replaced by what was obviously tarantula bristles. The bristles, however, were a perfect desert sand in color.

Starting just behind and below what was now a clearly defined head were four large tarantula legs on either side of the body. The rear most pair were positioned directly in front of the kangaroo rat’s legs, both of which were appreciably larger than they had been prior to the latest attack by Assassin. Just below the eyes and forward of the mouth were two fangs attached to chelicerae.

When Assassin completed its metamorphosis, Williams and Morgan sat in silence for a couple of minutes. Finally, Morgan said, “Satan himself couldn’t conjure up anything close to this.”

“Stan, quick, come to the van,” yelled Henderson into her radio.

Ling raced into the van at just about the same time that Williams entered the helicopter. He and Henderson watched the change without uttering a sound.

Once the transformation was complete and she gathered her thoughts, Henderson said, “It’s difficult to extrapolate what kind of speed Assassin will be able to generate with those legs. I doubt it will be able to run faster than it can hop with the kangaroo legs, but its strike speed may border on the incredible.”

“I doubt that any exobiologist could imagine anything close to what we are looking at.”

“The fangs undoubtedly are there to inject venom. Just as significant are the tarantula-like bristles. Some tarantulas can shoot out microscopic barbed bristles which can be very painful if eyes are the target. Who knows what Assassin might be able to fire at an enemy? The force itself might be lethal, let alone the venom.”

A shiver ran down Ling’s spine. It was identical to the one he experienced following Assassin’s (or Thing as it was then called) engulfing of the assassin bug when Alice had wondered if it would develop the assassin bug’s need or thirst for blood.

“Major, could you make contact with Ling and Henderson and get their take on this?” asked Morgan.

“I’ll be back.”

“I hope so.”

“Did you see that, General?” asked Williams.

“I damn sure did. Bill, if that monstrosity gets away and manages to reproduce the way Alice said it might, who the hell knows what might happen?”

“Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would see this.”

“What the hell is next?”

“We should, I hope, get a breather. It should start going after more vegetation. Now, can you patch me through to Ling and Henderson?’

“Here you go.”

“Stan, it’s Bill, what’s your take on this?”

“I’ll put Alice on.”

Henderson repeated what she told Ling about the metamorphosis. Upon conclusion, Williams thanked her and said he would stay in touch.

The General, who heard everything Henderson said, put his right hand under his chin and stared at the image on his screen of a now still Assassin. “I hope to hell the asshole is beginning to see what he is turning loose.”

“He’s does, but he wants more of it.”

“Bill, do you have time for a drink?

“Two or three.”

Three hours after he had left Morgan to visit the General, Williams returned.

“What have you got?”

Williams detailed what he had been told by his former girlfriend. As he did so, he reminded himself that Morgan had used Alice as a pawn.

Assassin went on a fourteen hour eating binge starting at dawn the next morning, demolishing any vegetation in its westward path. The pattern repeated itself six times – attack a clump of desert grass or a shrub, swell and flatten. By the end of the day, Assassin’s length had grown to over forty inches and its height was close to two feet.

Williams and Morgan were sitting in chairs outside of Morgan’s tent as the sun was setting.

“Morgan,” asked Williams, “why not see if you can capture it now? What more do you need?”

“It might seem that is enough, but we still need to see more.”

“Who is we?”

“There are bigger fish than me.”

The conversation was interrupted by a shout of “Morg” coming from inside the lead helicopter. Both jumped up and dashed to the helicopter.

“It’s moving, Morg, and it’s moving fast.”

Morgan jumped into the pilot’s seat as Assassin’s image blinked off the screen. “Get the other copters up and the floods ready.” He also ordered the drone launched.

Two of Morgan’s men jumped in just as the helicopter lifted off the ground. As they did so, Williams sat next to Morgan and began looking at the NVG phosphor screen.

“We got caught with our damn pants down,” yelled Morgan.

Williams stopped himself just before asking, “We?”

The five helicopters fanned out in a V formation with Morgan’s in the middle. Altitude was set at two hundred feet with the distance between them being approximately eight hundred feet. They headed west.

“Bill, what do you think its speed might be?”

“So now I’m Bill,” thought Williams. “It was doing eight to ten before the tarantula and it’s a helluva lot bigger now. The rat legs should be stronger and who knows if the tarantula legs are adding anything. Minimally I’m guessing fifteen. Could even be twenty, maybe twenty-five. There is no way of knowing. Also depends on its stamina. I’m guessing it used the grass to fuel up.”

“Dammit!”

The General’s helicopter followed in the wake of Morgan’s formation. Rappaport contacted Ling who was in the van. “Stan, Assassin has broken free and most likely is heading for the hills. Your satellite feed will probably be useless with the choppers in the air and the speed of Assassin, but keep a close eye on your screen just in case.”

“Okay,” was Ling’s only reply. He immediately called his partner who was in her trailer preparing to get some sleep. She was in the van five minutes later. Ling knew he was in for an interesting night.

Perched in his nest in the hills, Fowler was looking down at the two helicopters and the figures standing and sitting near them. He was mulling over which of several ways he could take everything out. The easiest would be to use the rocket launcher. Unfortunately he could not do it, as much as he wanted to, without the go ahead from Williams. And that was highly unlikely.

Williams had been quite specific, “Take no action unless it’s self-defense.” Also, radio contact was to be one way, Williams to Fowler for fear of Fowler and his position being detected. Also, he understood that if things broke the right way, there might very well be a fair amount of cash heading his way.

His mind was fixed on the three things which usually dominated his thoughts: money, women and combat. He put down his night vision goggles and began to drift into sleep. That ended abruptly when heard voices from below followed by the starting of the two helicopters. Seconds later, he caught sight of a series of dim lights in the distance approaching from the east. “More choppers,” he whispered, “and flying low.”

Fowler’s immediate thought was that he had been discovered and was about to be attacked. He instinctively reached for the M1, but then reasoned that there was no way the spooks could have spotted him, no matter how sophisticated their equipment. The logical explanation was that Assassin was making a move. “Be patient, Fowler, be patient.”

Twenty minutes after takeoff, Morgan’s squadron was within a quarter mile of the two ground based helicopters. Nothing had been spotted from either end. Nothing from the satellite. Nothing from the drone.

“I doubt that we missed it,” said Morgan, more to himself than to Williams. “We’ll retrace and fan out north and south.” The squadron reversed course and began to spread out. The search was joined by the two crews which had been on watch at the base of the hills.

As midnight approached, Morgan called in all seven helicopters. Two were refueled and sent back up with two crew members each. One crew member was left in each of the remaining five helicopters to monitor the screens, while everyone else, including Morgan and Williams, called it a night until 5:00AM.

More to keep Morgan off balance than anything else, the General had his pilot bring him and his men back to the home base. Rappaport issued orders for a new crew to be ready at dawn. After a brief meeting with Ling and Henderson, the General and Rappaport went back to the comfort of their trailer.

Left to themselves, Ling asked Henderson, “What do you think now, Alice?”

“I may have severely misjudged Assassin’s intelligence and its rate of development. Maybe it is blind luck that has enabled it to escape, but I don’t think so. It seems after building up its reserves, it waited until nightfall to break away. Has it veered to the north or to the south? Or, it is heading toward us?”

Ling again felt a shiver.

As dawn broke over a chilled desert, Assassin was still missing. This was what both Morgan and Williams had expected. Well before 6:00AM, all seven helicopters were in the air, but with five man crews. The General and Rappaport, who took flight a few minutes after Morgan, closed the gap.

Less than an hour later, a satellite image of a motionless Assassin blinked onto Morgan’s helicopter screen. It was seventy-two miles southwest of its departure point of the previous night. Morgan landed his bird a scant five hundred feet away from it and quickly grabbed a rifle. Williams gave him a questioning glance.

“I’m going to do what I should have damn well done the last time it was resting. This will fire a tracer microchip into the bastard. It won’t even know that it’s been hit.” As he would soon find out, he was to be proven correct.

“These things exist?” questioned Williams.

“Yes,” said Morgan, “and the target feels no more than it would from a mosquito bite.”

The General and Rappaport landed some one hundred yards from Morgan and watched the show through field glasses.

Morgan and Williams carefully and slowly walked toward Assassin. They closed to within one hundred feet. Assassin remained motionless. At fifty feet, Morgan raised his injector rifle and looked through the scope. “Flank?” he asked Williams.

“I don’t think you need to do it,” replied Williams.

“Why the hell not?

“Take a whiff. It’s decomposing.”

Despite a horrid stench, they got to within five feet of it. Not only was it decomposing, it was doing so at an astounding rate.

“Dammit!” yelled Morgan. “Can you get Ling and Henderson out here? I’ll send a copter back to get them.”

Williams radioed the General who in turned alerted Ling.

“Look at it,” said Williams. “It has started to ooze. By the time they get here there might be nothing left.”

Morgan radioed one of his men. “Bring the small steel container and a shovel. Now!”

The General and Rappaport stayed in their helicopter. The General smiled broadly as he pulled a flask out of his pocket. “Nothing but the best, Jim.” He took a swig and passed it on.

Three of Morgan’s crew arrived at the scene, two carrying a five foot by three foot by three foot container. The third member had the shovel. The smell was overbearing. Morgan was peering at what was then no more than a large pile of a thick brownish liquid. Appearing as if he were about to pass out, the unfortunate shovel holder scooped a shovel full of the mass and began to pick it up. With the head of the shovel a foot off the ground, he dropped the shovel and all five men rapidly pulled back as a cloud of gas broke away from the remaining mass. Two minutes later, what had been left of Assassin had totally vanished.

The General pulled out two Cuban cigars. It was smoke, not gas, which began to fill the helicopter.

C
HAPTER
T
EN

F
ROZEN FOR AT LEAST A MINUTE,
Morgan grabbed the shovel and scooped shovel full after shovel full of sand into the container. The sand was from the area where Assassin had been found. He closed and locked the container as the crew members gawked in amazement. Williams remained expressionless.

“Go ahead, Major, tell me I screwed up.”

“None of us saw this coming.” While he didn’t feel sorry in the least for Morgan, he understood the pain that he had to be enduring at the moment. There would have been no point in rubbing salt into the wound.

Morgan sent his men back to the helicopters. Once they were out of earshot, he said, “I appreciate your not shitting on me in front of the men.”

“Maybe not to the same degree as you, but I had a lot invested in this.”

Morgan nodded. “Again thanks. Give me a few days and I’ll see that you’ll find a deposit in your Albuquerque bank account as payment for the meteorite. You’ll find it more than fair. A couple of my men will stop by the van to pick it up and we will clear out of here.”

“Thanks.”

“Any idea of what the hell happened?”

There was a long pause before Williams responded. “Henderson and Ling are better equipped than me to answer that, but I’m not sure even they have any idea. Did you ever read H.G. Wells’
War of the Worlds?”
Williams didn’t wait for an answer before continuing, “Maybe our bacteria got it.”

There was no need for either man to say anything more.

Williams made his way back to the General’s helicopter. They then headed back to Williams’ “trailer park.” Once returned, the General called a meeting in Williams’ house. For the General, it was a celebration. It was a little less so for Rappaport and anything but a celebration for Williams, Ling and Henderson.

Looking at Ling and Henderson, the General asked, “What the hell happened?”

Ling responded, “At the moment, we need some time to sort things out. Too much has happened too fast. We have an idea, a long shot at best, but we need to take a break before we go back over the feeds.”

“This is an order,” barked the General, “change into civilian clothes and get your asses into Bill’s SUV in thirty minutes. Excuse my French, Lieutenant.”

Well less than an hour later, the five of them walked through the door of Killer Two’s Diner. Killer Two raced out of the kitchen to greet them. Williams introduced Rappaport, Ling and Henderson as “old friends.”

The General looked at Williams and said, “Don’t worry, Bill, this one is on me.”

Williams smiled and said, “I’ll believe it when I see your wallet.”

After placing his left hand against three empty pockets, he produced the requested wallet and was greeted by applause from Williams and Rappaport. “Four of those Killer Chicken beers and your finest Pinot Grigio.”

“I guarantee Alice will get Killer’s finest Pinot as I bet it’s his only one,” laughed Williams.

“As long as it’s chilled and wet, I don’t care,” replied Henderson.

A different waitress from the one the General had previously seen brought out the drinks. She was demonstrably better looking than the first one. The General took a close look at her. As soon as she left, Williams whispered to the General, “Careful, she’s one of Killer’s daughters.”

“Anyone object to steaks?” asked the General.

“Can I see if there is any cash in your wallet?” asked Williams. Laughter erupted.

Once the order had been taken and the first round of drinks was nearing completion, Killer Two once again emerged from the kitchen. Looking at Williams, he asked, “What has been going on at your place, Bill?”

“Field maneuvers by the Army.”

“I don’t think so, I bet another flying saucer like the one in Roswell crashed.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Killer, but it’s just field maneuvers. Should be wrapping up in a day or two.”

“Okay, Bill, I understand. I’ll keep it under my hat.” He turned to go back back into the kitchen as Kowalski was grappling with Giant Baba. The match had taken place in Japan and the broadcast was in Japanese. At the conclusion, the referee raised the hands of both Kowalski and Baba. No decision.

Killer Two returned. “Killer could’ve mopped the mat with the Jap, but he didn’t want to embarrass him in front of all the Japs in the arena.”

The General caught a grimace by Henderson. As soon as Killer Two was back in the kitchen, he leaned over to her and said, “You have to understand that feelings still run deep with some. Killer Two may have had older relatives who were killed in the War.”

“Thank you, General, I hadn’t considered that.”

The General then ordered a second round as Kowalski was back wrestling in the United States. Shortly thereafter, lunch was served. Unfortunately for Killer Two, a fair number of customers materialized and his flying saucer crash interrogation had to wait for another day.

Over two hours after they had entered the diner, the five of them headed back to Williams’ property. As they stepped out of the Pathfinder, Henderson addressed the General, “Would it be possible to have a six o’clock, I mean an eighteen hundred hours, meeting?”

The General smiled, “My pleasure.”

Williams went into the house and spent a good portion of the afternoon napping. The General and Rappaport did the same in their sleeper. Henderson and Ling retreated to the van where they poured over the recorded feeds and compared notes. By six o’clock they were prepared for the meeting. As they walked into the house, “The Wanderer” was blaring from out on the porch.

“Let me guess,” asked Henderson, “Dion and The Belmonts.”

“Sorry, you lose the grand prize. It’s Dion backed up by the Del Satins.”

“The Del Satins?”

Williams went on to explain why Dion dropped his association with the Belmonts despite their initial successes together. All the while, Ling looked at the two as if they were speaking an alien language.

Before saying anything, Henderson passed a slip of paper to Williams. It contained a single question, “Is there any chance the house is bugged?”

Williams shook his head back and forth. He then turned down the volume of the music as the group assembled in the living room. Conspicuously absent were any drinks.

Henderson initiated the conversation. “Stan and I have come to believe that Assassin has more, quite a bit more, innate intelligence than we previously believed.”

Her use of “has” rather than “had” immediately caught the attention of the three combat veterans.

“Forget for a moment what Assassin is acquiring from its prey. We suspect its actions as of late have been more – much more – than just instinct and we have grossly underestimated its rate of development. Every indication is that intelligence of some sort is programmed into its genes or what may be the equivalent of genes. And while in terms of the time involved in human development, it is an infant, developmentally it probably is the equal of a human teenager or even a young adult.”

“If I understand where you are going with this,” said Rappaport, “you are saying that Assassin planned its escape.”

“Yes, I don’t think it was coincidence that it broke away at nightfall and changed its course.”

“By referring to it in the present tense, are you implying that you think it is still alive?” continued Rappaport.

“Like sea anenomes!” exclaimed the General.

“Somewhat, but if our suspicions are correct, it would have to be on a scale far beyond what they are capable of doing,” replied Henderson. “Remember, we are dealing with an alien species of which we know virtually nothing.”

“So much for my H.G. Wells based theory that our Earth bacteria did it in,” said Williams.

“As far-fetched as it sounds, Stan and I are not dismissing the possibility that it replicated itself and then somehow killed, assassinated if you will, its other self.”

Rappaport added, “If you are correct and it split once, in theory it can continue to split as can its offspring, if offspring is the right word.”

“In theory,” said Ling.

“If it is alive and in the hills, it will have access to virtually unlimited vegetation and, therefore, the potential to rapidly increase in size,” continued Henderson. “Also, a wide variety of prey will be at its disposal. If it does increase its size, in theory it should be able to attack just about any animals of its choice. This includes human beings.”

“Good lord!” exclaimed the General.

The conversation, sometimes a debate, about whether Assassin was alive or not carried on for another twenty minutes or thereabouts. Noticeably absent from the discussion was Williams who appeared content to do no more than listen. That ended when the General said, “What do we do next?”

Williams got up out of his chair, walked a few steps to where he could look at the other four without having to turn from one to the other. “The General was right, we should have killed it early on. But that is now irrelevant to the present situation. I don’t think we can take the chance of assuming it is dead. Even if there is only one chance in a hundred that it’s out there, we have to find it and destroy it, and as quickly as possible.”

“You are right, Bill,” said the General.

“Bear with me on this. We have to assume that Morgan is still monitoring the area. If we go out in force looking for Assassin, he will return and from what I’ve learned about him over the past few days, he’ll revert to plan one – capture. Also, I have no doubt he’ll freeze us out.”

“Correct, Bill. His ego has taken a beating and I’m sure whoever is pulling his strings is pissed as all hell right now,” said the General.

Williams took a long pause. “Here’s my plan. Tomorrow morning, General, you pull out all your men and equipment, except for what I’ll need, and leave.”

“Bullshit!”

Williams ignored the comment and looked squarely at the General. “Again, General, this is just my idea, nothing more. Clear out. You and Jim go back to whatever you were doing. Alice and Stan leave with you, but grant them a two week leave and send them off to Vegas.”

Ling was stunned and needed to exercise all the restraint he could to not show any emotion.

“Las Vegas?” asked the General. “Why not just send Alice back to Florida.”

Trying to look both insulted and hurt while at the same time batting her eyes at the General, Henderson said, “Are you forgetting, General, that I am Army – career Army?”

“Career Army? Bucking for a promotion, Lieutenant?”

She flashed a Sophia Loren type smile at the General.

Williams thought, “I hope he just didn’t wet himself.”

The General was speechless. Ling was ecstatic.

“Two reasons for Vegas,” said Williams. “One, again we have to assume that Morgan will be keeping tabs on all of us. Let Alice and Stan paint the town – casinos, shows. That will help disarm Morgan. Two, we may need them at a moment’s notice.”

“That leaves just you here,” replied the General.

“Me and Fowler.”

“Fowler? Who is Fowler?” queried Henderson.

Williams proceeded to give her a brief, but detailed, description. For the first time, she became fully aware of just how deadly an individual her former bedmate had to be. “How many more friends like him do you have?”

“Associates, not friends.”

“How do you plan to work this, Bill?” asked the General.

“Right after dark tomorrow, I’m going to take a circular route to get to Fowler. I’ll have no problem finding him. As soon as I do, we’ll go after Assassin. If Stan and Alice’s speculations are correct, I’m betting that Assassin is in the hills and will need recovery time before it goes after bigger prey and before it can replicate again. You’ll need to have forces ready to move in if things go wrong, especially if I’m wrong about how long it may take Assassin to replicate. And you’ll need to be ready to move in ahead of Morgan if he figures out what is happening.”

“Anyone have a better plan?” asked the General.

There was nothing but silence.

“Then let’s go back to the diner.”