Hybrid - Forced Vengeance (10 page)

* * * *

Erik’s quarters were luxurious, bordering on embarrassing in their comfort. He ran the hot water in the eight-foot marble tub and methodically stretched his muscles while it filled. This was the first real down time he had in two or three days. He intended to make the most of it.

After several minutes of stretching and shadow boxing, he felt loose and limber. Erik immersed himself in the hot water and his body relaxed, sighing with ecstasy.
I need to get one of these when I get home. Shanda will flip when—
He paused and then exhaled heavily.

Erik closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cushioned headrest. Layer by layer, he eased himself into a meditative state. For the first time in over six weeks he felt more like himself. His mind was beginning to adjust to Shanda’s absence, yet he hoped he never would. Some part of him still wouldn’t accept the fact that she was gone.

For a brief moment, his mind felt her calling to him; the link burned hot then he experienced terror – her terror. Erik shot out of the tub like a bullet.

Shanda!
His mind screamed her name.
Shanda, honey, where are you?

Nothing.

Whatever he had felt was gone. Yet it left behind a strong imprint. His mind reached outward upon that particular psychic frequency and found nothing but a void. He did, however, sense an echo. Had a thought been transmitted? “Damn it all!” He lowered his head in agony. “She’s dead. I placed the roses on her casket. Why can’t I accept it? Why do I still feel her in my mind, see her in my dreams?”

Erik stepped back into the tub and let his body and mind surrender to the welcoming heat. He leaned his head back and slowly drifted off. “Just need some peace for a little while,” he mumbled as he drifted off to sleep.

* * * *

Richard Pendelton sat behind his desk staring out at Logan International Airport. The view from eighty stories high was fantastic. Wealth had its privileges; he sighed inwardly, mesmerized by the arriving and departing airliners. The buzz of his intercom snapped him out of his relaxed stupor. Annoyed, he slammed the top of the intercom unit.

“Yes, what is it, Miss Harrington?”

“Colonel Ross is calling on your video link, sir.”

“Thank you.” Pendelton activated the video conference unit and waited for the video to materialize.

The four-foot flat screen flared to life and Pendelton saw Ross and his ever-present sidekick, Anderson, along with a few unfamiliar uniforms in the background. Ross looked flustered; that wasn’t a good sign.

“Colonel, what can I do for you?” Pendelton asked with his most pleasant voice.

“We may have a problem.” Ross’s voice was thick with frustration.

“What kind of problem?”

“Our guest escaped her confinement for a brief period; she managed to scream a telepathic SOS before we could neutralize her.”

Pendelton’s stomach turned and he felt the color drain from his face. “She’s a telepath, too? You idiots! How could you allow this to happen?”

“We don’t know the extent of her power yet.” Ross shifted in his stance. “We’ve increased the power feeding the nullifier field that surrounds her chambers and are adding a secondary layer around both cells. Even if she manages another breach, the secondary field will provide adequate shielding. Our biggest concern now is her husband. What if he heard her summons?”

“If he heard her, we’re done for. I told you, Knight needed to be eliminated, not isolated.” Pendelton ground his teeth. He had invested too much in this operation to see it fall apart now. “How quickly will you be informed if Knight leaves Paris and heads back to the States?”

“We should know as soon as he leaves the presidential estate for an airport. We have people inside the French embassy and in the French government who’ll be keeping us abreast of any developments. If he heard her pleas, he’d probably leave immediately. I think it’s safe to say that if we don’t get a call by the end of the day, Mrs. Knight’s call will go unanswered,” Anderson replied, shifting his position behind his superior.

“I never like making assumptions, Mr. Anderson, but I would have to agree with you. Erik Knight may be all-powerful, but he is predictable. That fact is something that we can use to our advantage. If he heard his little hussy crying for help he’d drop everything to get to her.” Richard made his way to the wet bar in the corner of his office.

“One more thing,” Ross added.

Pendelton sighed heavily. This was supposed to be a seamless operation, yet they seemed to be bungling every task. “Not more trouble, Colonel.”

“An OSA agent is snooping where he shouldn’t be. He’s uncovered several pieces of information that could prove to be most detrimental if brought to the Military Appropriations Committee or the Senate Oversight Committee. He’s likely to jeopardize our operation if he puts all the pieces together.”

Pendelton gave Ross a don’t-give-me-any-bullshit challenge. “How likely is that? Our planning and execution have been flawless to this point.”

“Trust me to ensure that doesn’t happen. There are tools at our disposal even wealthy industrialists aren’t aware of.”

“Wonderful!” Pendelton sneered, aware of the insult. “I suppose you have some grand scheme in place to see that this unfortunate turn of events doesn’t occur.”

“We’re monitoring the situation closely. We’ll take care of the situation if it becomes necessary.”

“You’ll take care of the problem now. Take proactive steps to see that he doesn’t get any closer.”

“Let’s get something clear right now, Mr. Pendelton,” Ross barked. “I don’t take orders from you. You’re working for us; never forget that.”

Pendelton smiled. The two Alpha males were going to have it out, finally. Now they’d see who was really in control of Operation Homegrown.

Pendelton poured himself two-fingers of scotch then turned to Ross. “Oh, really?” He sipped the amber liquid and smiled a fake smile. “Let me ask you something, you thick skulled imbecile. Who do you think is paying for the elaborate labs and holding facility you’ve been utilizing the past two years? Whose Washington connections and corporate capital bought the necessary votes in the Senate Appropriations Committees for this little experiment you’re conducting? It was Pendelcorp capital and Pendelcorp’s political influence that made all of this possible.” Pendelton took another swig of his scotch, satisfied he’d made his point to the pompous colonel.

* * * *

Ross smiled calmly in return. “Now you listen to me, you overstuffed suit. You may be bankrolling this project, but don’t forget who’s running this show – the government and the military. You’re nothing but a convenient front. We could have chosen any corporation for our endeavor, but we thought you would be cooperative and play your part, funnel the necessary capital from the required contracts and take your percentage off the top. Don’t ever overestimate your importance to this project. You can, and will, be replaced at my discretion.”

Pendelton laughed at the image on the screen. “Colonel, you can’t possibly be as stupid as you seem. When you approached me with this scheme, you tried to threaten me with allegations of illegal mining operations. Do you really think you could intimidate me with your hollow threats? Everything was destroyed on Hopedale Mountain; there is no substantial or credible evidence to implicate Pendelcorp. You think I cooperated with you because of some governmental bullying?” Pendelton asked in an incredulous tone. “I saw an opportunity to exact some well-deserved revenge against a personal adversary and to diversify my company’s portfolio.

“I used your desire for a mutant army to serve
my
purposes. You go ahead and play soldier in your labs, but just remember that I can dry up the funding for this project whenever I see fit and and if I did, that would leave you to explain this little enterprise to your superiors.”

“Mr. Pendelton, you’re in bed with us. Whatever your personal vendetta against Erik Knight, I don’t give a monkey’s ass. The funds you’re channeling don’t belong to you, or Pendelcorp. You are entitled to take your handling fee but the rest is still military appropriation, whether the billable contracts are valid or not, the funding is for a military effort approved at a level far above yours or mine. You can still be sued for legitimate fraud.” Ross took a step closer to the camera. “You can also be the victim of a very unfortunate accident if you continue to assume more than your assigned role in this arrangement.”

“Colonel Ross, are you threatening me? Do you think that you jarheads are the only people who have access to those types of professionals? I’m not some small time operator that you can threaten or intimidate.” Pendelton picked up a nearby phone. “One simple phone call to any local reporter, jarhead, and your whole scheme comes crashing down upon you.”

“You make that call and you sink along with the rest.” Ross crossed his arms. “Your hands are just as dirty as ours, Pendelton, plus you have more to lose. The government has the power to bury this story, just like we buried the Hopedale story. You, however, can be hung out to dry.”

“Shall we see who has more influence in the media, Colonel? Are you calling my bluff?” Pendelton raised the phone in challenge.

Lt. Colonel Anderson cleared his throat. “Sirs,” he began in a respectful tone, “it is of the utmost importance that our two organizations work together and cooperate. Mr. Pendelton, your reasons for going along with this operation are your own. But remember, you have made commitments to this operation and are being duly compensated. Now is not the appropriate time to decide that you have a greater role to play.” Anderson paused. “You are an integral part of this operation but if we go down, you will go down as well. The honest truth is, sirs, neither of you are in control of this project. All of us are reporting up to a higher authority that expects us to work together as a unit and make this project a success.

“Personal agendas, egos and personalities need to be put aside right now to address the current situation. If we fail, the powers that we report to will see to it that we aren’t around to argue about who is at fault. Blame will be spread equally to all of us.” Anderson breathed deeply before adding his final dose of reality. “Sirs, I respectfully remind you that that all of us here are expendable resources. We will be the scapegoats if this operation fails.”

Ross and Pendelton fell silent. Anderson’s thirty-second speech was a harsh dose of reality. Both had valid reasons to undertake this gamble. But in truth, each willingly played their part as a chance to avenge themselves upon one man who had gotten the better of them both: Erik Knight.

“We’ll keep you apprised of the situation and let you know if Knight makes his way back to the States,” Ross remarked as he turned away from the video display.

“I’d appreciate that. I have a contact in France as well. I’ll make a few calls and see if I can learn anything.”

“We’d appreciate the help, Mr. Pendelton.” Anderson then severed the video and voice connections.

* * * *

Richard Pendelton poured another drink and sat down. He didn’t like the direction events were taking. He didn’t like being a minor league player, but realized he was in no position to do anything about it at this point.

Pendelton studied the fax that had come over his secure line a few hours ago. Jeremy Storm had turned himself into the police and was now under the protective custody of Denton, Marques and Priscoli.

The one benefit of his association with Ross was that he had gained some insight into what was actually behind the monolithic firm and why Knight was often out of the state for a week or two at a time.

Pendelton didn’t know all of the details prior to his involvement with the Colonel Ross, but he had gathered enough to know that Erik Knight was more than a private investigator.

“Damn it!” He crumpled the fax and tossed it into the basket for shredding. “He was supposed to be the best in the business, worth every penny of the hundred thousand I paid.” He looked at the crumpled paper, shaking his head in disgust.

Richard Pendelton took a deep swig of his scotch on the rocks and shuddered heavily as the alcohol burned its way to his stomach. He didn’t want to just deter his adversary; he wanted the man eliminated. The next few hours would be crucial. If Erik heard his wife’s plea he would come running back to the States and begin his search for her. The fact that she was isolated again would make the detective’s job that much harder – he hoped.

There was no telling how powerful the hybrid’s senses were. Could he lock onto that one thought and home in on it? Or would he need a continuous signal in order to find his wife? All these questions would be relevant within the next few hours
if
Erik Knight left Paris – but only if he left Paris. He drained the last bit of scotch from his glass and began to chew on one of the ice cubes.

He pressed the intercom unit on the conference table and waited for his secretary’s voice to reply.

“Yes, Mr. Pendelton?”

“When is Conrad due back from his assignment?”

“Not for another week, sir.”

“Find him and tell him I want him back in the office immediately – if not sooner, I’m sure he’s planned enough mischief by now. Tell him to put one of our other flunkies in charge there.”

“Yes, Mr. Pendelton.”

Conrad, Pendelton’s right arm, helped him maintain his hold over his giant corporation’s holdings all over the world. He needed Conrad’s keen intellect and unique perspective right now. He wanted contingency plans in place in case the military bungled their operations. The way things were going at this point, Pendelton decided it was time to plan his escape – and his company’s alibi.

“I won’t be left to hang if this sinks,” he grumbled as he shifted his attention to other documents pertaining to his company’s large holdings.
I didn’t get caught the last time and I won’t get caught this time around.

Chapter 9: Gestation Day 39

Secrets revealed

Erik Knight’s enhanced body didn’t require much sleep but he slept as a chance to give his mind some peace and tranquility away from the continuous sensory bombardment he endured each day. He awoke from his meditative trance and climbed out of the queen-sized bed that had been provided for him.

The bulk of this day would be spent reviewing information pertaining to the attempted poisoning of Monique LaSalle, as well as preparing an adequate blanket of security for the huge celebration that the president would host to kick off his daughter’s tour of the country.

Erik had to see detailed blueprints of the party areas and become familiar with the entryways to each space. He also wanted to see itineries and plans for the first few places the young woman would be visiting.

He put on a pair of comfortable jeans and selected a black, loose-fitting vest from the closet. The detective glanced over at his duffel bag to where his custom auto pistols were locked in their strongbox. He considered wearing his favorite set of pistols, but was unsure how such a vivid display of hardware would be received. He opted for Jeremy Storm’s 9mm automatic and customized concealment holster. The weapon was easily hidden and miraculously lightweight.

Erik knew that a call to Denton was in order. There were still leaks in the organization that needed to be plugged. He also wanted information concerning the unknown substance used in manufacturing his new set of toys.

As he approached the large dining hall, his nose picked up the delectable scents of several familiar and unfamiliar foods. He entered the immense room and headed toward the table where President LaSalle sat with his daughter and his senior aide. Three large men in expensive suits sat at the opposite end of the table. He observed with some irony that no one had touched the food. Erik nodded at everyone and settled on an empty chair.

“Good morning, Mr. President, Miss LaSalle, Jean-Paul,” Erik greeted his hosts. He looked across the table and nodded a greeting to the men at the opposite end of the table. The men duplicated his gesture and went back to whispering among themselves.

“Good morning, Erik. I trust you slept well,” LaSalle said, while motioning a servant to pour coffee for the detective.

“Like a baby; your hospitality is overwhelming.” Erik reached for the sterling silver decanter nearest Monique and opened it to briefly inhale the vapors. No telltale hint of alkaloid – or any other foreign substance – triggered his enhanced senses. He looked over at Monique and said, “You’re good to go.” He then served her a glass of her favorite juice. At that assessment, LaSalle clapped his hands and the staff began serving breakfast.

Erik continually focused on the three men segregated from them by many empty seats. He assumed, based on their physical stature and demeanor, they were part of Monique’s security and would be accompanying the young girl on her travels. The president noticed his keen attention on the guards.

“These three men are the top security guards in the French government. Together they have over fifty years of experience providing protection for heads of state,” LaSalle stated proudly.

“Excellent!” Erik then nodded to a servant to fill his plate with scrambled eggs. Once the servant finished, Erik glanced at the president. “Do we have the layouts and drawings of the hall where the ceremony will occur?”

“Yes. René, Paul and Jean-Luc have obtained all the items you requested last evening.”

Erik glanced at the guards and read their distrust. He was an American outsider, a western cowboy in their eyes. He had to overcome their resistance to his presence as soon as possible or it would undermine the safety measures he put in place.

“Gentlemen,” he called to them, “it will be my pleasure to assist you with security. We’ll be working closely for the next few months. Please join us.” Erik waived them closer to adjacent empty seats.

The men looked at each other uncomfortably, then at the urging of the president, rose and resettled closer.

Erik made a point to introduce himself personally and exchanged firm handshakes with the men. It was the little extra courtesies and respect he gave them that would help him win their trust, and hopefully their respect.

“As the president said, we made copies of all of the drawings of the Great Banquet Hall,” René, the largest man explained in a professional manner. “Also, I have personally contacted representatives of local governments in the areas which Miss LaSalle will be visiting.” He gave a curt nod. “We will have detailed drawings and maps of the facilities and nearby streets and buildings within the next couple of days.”

The president wiped his lips with a cloth napkin. “Excellent, René.”

Jean-Luc spoke up. “We have also questioned the kitchen staff – the cooks in particular.” He gave a look of disappointment. “They all claim innocence and none of the staff have any links with radical organizations.”

“That we know of,” Paul added. “But Jean-Luc is correct. I believe our staff is beyond reproach; the attempt had to be from an outside influence.”

Erik took a moment to digest what each man said. The guards were convinced the staff in the president’s household were not involved in the attempted poisoning. What he couldn’t yet determine was if the guards were simply covering their asses because they’d screened the staff prior to hiring, or were they that positive of each staff member’s character.

“Has yesterday’s trash been collected yet?” he asked the guards.

René spoke up. “Pick up is scheduled every third day at ten o’clock in the morning. The next pickup will be in about two hours.”

Erik turned to Monique. “Is that juice concoction you’re so fond of prepared fresh or from a frozen concentrate or is it from a carton?”

“It’s frozen and then mixed with water; the staff usually adds a shot of lemon juice while they’re mixing it to give it a little more punch,” she answered.

“Well, that cinches it. Let’s go sift through the trash. I want that container,” the detective stated as he stood.

“Why in God’s name would you want it?” the president’s aide asked.

“Simple. I want to see if the container was tampered with. The method of tampering will tell us if it likely occurred in the presidential compound or outside.” Erik glanced at each person in turn. “It will also give us an idea of just how well our opponent knows his target. This, gentlemen,” Erik paused, then added, “and lady, wasn’t random.” He motioned toward Monique. “She was directly targeted, pinpointed by a specific item that only she drinks. This action gives us two possibilities. The attempt was made to look like an inside job, or it was an inside job. That container will help me come to the right conclusion.”

Erik read the look of distaste on the guards’ faces. He sensed they didn’t trust him yet. His first lesson learned in the military was that both trust and respect were earned, not simply given. When dealing with new people it was a constant factor.

“Look,” Erik said lightly to the three, “this is my wild hunch. I don’t expect any of you to go digging around in yesterday’s garbage. You have enough to do with the security details and arrangements. Can we touch base back here for lunch? We can start wading through the details of the next six months.”

A look of relief spread over each man’s face.

“That would be most suitable, Mr. Knight. We shall resume our discussions at noon.” René then made a quick gesture and his counterparts stood. “We will take our leave now, Mr. President.” René waited for the nod of the president then all three men marched away.

“They are good men,” President LaSalle remarked as he watched them disappear around a bend in the long corridor.

“They seem to be just that.” Erik nodded curtly and turned to the president’s aide. “Is there any word about the toxin used in that ‘Mickey Finn’ they tried to slip Monique yesterday?”

Jean-Paul reached into his jacket and read from a form. “All local pharmacies that carry alkaloid compounds similar to the ones discovered in the toxicology report were contacted. Whoever used that poison didn’t get it anywhere around here.” The aide returned the paper in his jacket, clearly disappointed by the report.

“That’s fine; it’s just one less thing on our list to verify,” Erik answered.

The president turned to Erik and asked, “Are you really serious about digging through the garbage? Surely such a thing is not really necessary?”

“It is a necessity, Mr. President. As soon as someone points me in the right direction, and provides me with some rubber gloves, I shall be on my way.”

Monique rose. “I’ll take him, father. I’ve finished my breakfast.”

* * * *

For the better part of a half hour, Monique watched the American wade through the multiple garbage bags from the large dumpster behind the estate. Finally, he spotted something of importance and held up a dark purple container for inspection.

“Is this it?” he asked, and she nodded.

He leapt out of the dumpster, holding up the empty carton like a prize. He inspected the container while walking to the bench by the rear entrance to the main building.

Monique followed him.

Once seated, his fingertips moved gently up and down the small container almost as if they were able to scan and analyze every grain and imperfection on the plastic and cardboard surface. His eyes changed slightly, burning with a pale aquamarine glow.

He looked up, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“The container was most likely poisoned outside the estate. There is a small puncture hole right in the middle. The toxin was injected into the container and froze. The poison thawed right along with the juice concentrate, when the water was added. Do you know if the same people make all the deliveries to the estate?”

Monique shrugged her shoulders. “The kitchen staff could confirm that. I don’t really get involved with the food preparation. I’m far from domestic.”

“My wife was the same way.”

She couldn’t miss the longing in the American’s voice. “Was?”

“Was.” The American said nothing more. He turned toward the rear entrance and walked away. Monique studied him for a moment and then followed.

“What now?” she asked.

He turned around. “I will show Jean-Paul the container. It has a serial number that will tell us where it came from, and possibly where it shipped from. We’ll also find out who makes the food deliveries. If the people who deliver them are regulars, we’ll check to see if, on the day this container was delivered, different persons made the delivery. If there was somebody different on that day, we find out who and question them.”

* * * *

Erik tried to sound positive but the more he considered the numerous possibilities, the more he realized that even though they now knew how the container was poisoned, he wasn’t any closer to eliminating anybody completely. The container could just as easily have been poisoned by the staff on the night before. About all he could do was reduce the probability that the servers hadn’t poisoned the young woman. The kitchen help was still suspect.

The darker part of his persona admired the methodology employed in this attempt. If Monique LaSalle had been poisoned, the odds anybody would ever discover how it was done were close to zero. Had he not possessed his hybrid senses, he would have missed the tiny round puncture mark in the container. Had he not possessed the powers given to him from the long dead Esper race, Monique LaSalle would be dead right now. He reminded himself that the good guys were up one. But the military man inside him knew an enemy that failed in its objective would undoubtedly redouble its efforts and try again.

This form of attack didn’t fit the paradigm of his profiled opponents. In all his past experiences, the terrorists used direct frontal assaults. They were like a sledgehammer, direct and forceful. That was how they generated fear among the populace – by blatant open violence with no regard for bystanders or themselves.

The failed poisoning of Monique was an indirect attempt on a single target, with no potential for collateral deaths. This didn’t bode well for setting up adequate security precautions. If the terrorists had adopted new methods and were now focused only on the elimination of a single individual target, the good guys were being forced into an unfamiliar defensive posture. It would be nearly impossible to protect Monique LaSalle without being constantly at her side. He would have to become more personal bodyguard than security specialist.

“I don’t like the look you have on your face,” the young woman began.

Erik smiled. For the briefest of moments, he heard Brianna’s voice in this young French socialite’s. “I need to get a poker face,” he grumbled to himself. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with.” He began to walk again.

Monique walked past him and blocked his path. She crossed her arms and looked directly up at him, her face grim and determined. “Look, Mr. Knight, I know you probably think I’m just some overstuffed window dressing and I’m supposed to simply settle back and let the brave American save me. Well you can toss the cowboy mentality. It’s my life that’s been threatened. My life that’s at stake! I.…”

Erik’s enhanced vision spotted a form on the adjacent rooftop then saw the form raise a hi-powered rifle to his shoulder.
A sniper!

His Esper hearing heard the pop from a silencer then he detected the supersonic whine of the high-powered bullet. Erik grabbed Monique and spun her so that his back served as a shield between the young woman and the rifle’s slug. The momentum of his action forced them both into a lateral dive to the ground.

A hot sensation on his arm told him the projectile had grazed it. He hit the ground hard, making sure that his body absorbed the bulk of the impact and shielded Monique’s body.

Erik freed the 9mm from its holster as he turned onto his back. With his enhanced vision, he spotted the sniper still perched on the roof.

Erik leapt to his feet, his mind calculating the trajectory and bullet drop. He fired. The muted black automatic spat out five rounds of angry retaliation.