Way of the Wolf: Shifter Legacies 1 (66 page)

He made a few more notes on the computer, and went back to work on the next sample.

Had he any pride in this research, he would have been extremely pleased with the team’s progress to date. A lot of the work predated his arrival. Jennifer was responsible for much of that early progress, but the work had progressed by leaps and bounds since he’d joined the team.

Unfortunately.

He was very much afraid that time was running out. He needed to act and soon. They didn’t have a reliable airborne delivery vehicle for the modified virus yet, but VH29C—the latest iteration of the vampire virus and the most successful—was already a viable candidate for the weapon that Arcadian wanted. And it
was
a weapon no matter the vampire’s demurrals. Why else research an airborne variant if not to weaponise it?

Another notation on his computer, another sample under the scope.

The flu virus he was currently studying belonged to a particularly virulent strain. He had tested and discarded hundreds of variations on the theme now, modifying the horrors found in nature to create something worse. He had never been so relieved when all his attempts had failed.

Another notation, another sample.

He peered into the eyepiece and froze. Oh goddess no... he wasn’t ready! He peered into the eyepiece again hoping he was mistaken, but no, he had it right. This was disaster. His time had run out.

He looked around at his colleagues in the lab. No one was taking notice; they were too busy at their own scopes. He caught Jennifer’s eye and beckoned her over. Puzzlement flashed upon her face, but she rose from her station and came over. He stood to give her access to his scope, and she sat before it. She made some adjustments and studied the current sample. She looked up sharply moments later, and he nodded. They had done it... and doomed themselves. He saw the realisation dawn on her face, and her excitement changed to fear.

He took his place back from Jennifer and removed the sample from his scope, noting the reference number. He read the entry on his computer, and frowned. It was a strain of H9N2, or avian flu, that he had modified. H9N2 was an old enemy of humanity long since conquered, but modified to carry VH29C he had created something entirely new—a virulent airborne plague with no cure. It would kill millions if released. Billions in time, and would change the survivors into something else. This was it, the culmination of their work—Arcadian’s undead plague was a reality.

This was utter disaster. If Arcadian learned of this, he would want to go into full production immediately. The research phase was over, and their usefulness at an end, though only Jennifer and he knew it as yet. He put the sample back into the rack with the others to hide it. Jennifer’s eyes followed it, unable to let it go.

“What do we do?” Jennifer whispered.

“I’ll tell you what we don’t do,” he replied. “We don’t tell anyone. That’s first.”

“And second?”

“We get out of here and call the authorities. They will stop Arcadian. They must.”

“If they don’t, he’ll kill us.”

He nodded grimly. “He’ll kill us anyway. The moment he learns we’ve succeeded, he’ll know he doesn’t need us anymore.”

Fear filled Jennifer’s eyes again. “I wish I’d never heard of Arcadian. I wish I had said no.”

“I did say no, but he wouldn’t take that for my answer. He found a way to compel me. He would have found something for you too. You have family, friends, something to protect. He would have found it.”

Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears. He reached out and rubbed her arm in a poor effort to comfort her. He wasn’t very comfortable with women anymore; Jennifer didn’t hit his radar as a woman most of the time anyway. She would probably be offended by that; she was still good looking despite her being of an age with him, but he had always considered her a colleague first, a friend second, and only then a woman. It probably said something about him that her womanhood came a very distant third in his perceptions. Her abilities and competence as a scientist and researcher had always been more relevant to him.

“We need to talk to the others, but quietly,” he said. “Not all will want to chance leaving.”

“They’re scared.”

“I know. So am I, so are you, but we can’t stay here. Choose carefully who to tell.”

“I know who not to,” Jenifer said grimly. “There are a couple that will inform on us if they think they’ll benefit.”

“I think I know the ones you mean. Just be careful. We have to go tonight.”

“Tonight!”

He nodded. “There are more guards patrolling the grounds during the day.”

“But the vamps are awake now.”

“Exactly. They feel more secure at night. Most of the guards are off shift.”

Jennifer looked doubtful. “There are still a lot of men with guns, Elliot.”

“True, but not as many. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. I’ve counted them. The best time to go is an hour before dawn. The vamps are getting ready to sleep, and the guards are tired. They hand over to the day time guards around then.”

“You really have thought this through.”

He nodded.

She bit her lip. “About your daughter—”

“I have a plan, don’t worry about that. We have to take Chani with us.” Fear flashed upon Jennifer’s face again. “There’s no choice. I won’t leave Susan behind. I’ll deal with the vampire don’t worry. I must if Susan is ever to be free.”

She nodded and hurried away to warn the others. Elliot watched her go and took a deep breath. He needed to collect Susan and enlist her aid in subduing Chani. Susan knew the plan and her part in it. She liked Chani, a lucky thing because the bond was an intimate connection, but she would play her part. He had promised not to hurt the vampire in any permanent manner; an easy promise to make when harming Chani was tantamount to harming Susan. That he would never do.

He patted his pocket and headed for the door leading to the rest of the house in search of his daughter.

* * *

39 ~ Clean Sweep

“Don’t get too close,” Barrows said.

“Yes, sir,” Sergeant Bechtel replied, ignoring the instruction. He continued his driving at the same careful pace, barely within sight of the dark coloured vehicles up ahead.

Barrows ignored the irritation he heard in the man’s voice. The sergeant didn’t like it that his team was subordinate to OSI for this operation. It was hard to blame the man. The military rarely liked civilian control of their actions, and members of elite special teams like Bechtel and his men liked it least of all.

Barrows frowned at the GPS in the dash. They were far outside of the city now, and into a remote area barren of habitation. He checked his map, but there didn’t seem to be anything interesting nearby. He glanced uneasily out of his window, but the darkness was impenetrable. Considering what they were doing out here he should be thankful for Bechtel’s presence, but he really would have preferred his own people accompany him. He knew and trusted them; they had backed each other up on these things too many times to count. He would have preferred an exclusively OSI operation even now, even knowing who they were going up against, but the President himself had taken a hand after the disaster in Chicago by making it a joint operation between OSI and the military. OSI retained the investigative side, while the military was tasked with the actual take down. Arcadian’s assassination in other words. Barrows grimaced at the familiar thought, but there really was no alternative and the President would not hear the Director’s protests about using the military within the Republic’s borders. Barrows knew he had been lucky to remain in charge of the investigation, let alone running the final operation that would close the file once and for all.

He watched the tail-lights of the dark SUV up ahead and judged the distance had remained constant. It was tail-end-Charlie of a convoy of vehicles they had followed all the way from the waterfront district of LA. They weren’t gaining, and that was good enough for now.

Humber had surprised him in how far she had been willing to go in her pursuit of what she saw as justice. Surprised and pleased him actually. Allowing her to blaze the trail had made his job much easier. Her contacts had given her a way to infiltrate the non-human community, one he simply did not have and couldn’t replicate. OSI was persona non grata with vamp and shifter alike. His body would never have been found if he’d attempted what Chris Humber had succeeded in doing. It was amazing how creatures known for their paranoia and hostility had accepted her so easily. Either she was a superb actress, or she had promised them something they wanted very badly. He wondered what it had been. Not that he cared really. As long as it led to Arcadian’s destruction, he wouldn’t complain.

Brake lights flared red, and the convoy of SUVs and vans took a turn onto a side road. He checked the GPS but wasn’t surprised to find it devoid of any side roads for miles. Typical. The software didn’t include the narrow lane. No surprise, it was hardly a road at all, just a dirt track barely one car wide. He aimed his shielded flashlight at the paper map in his lap as Bechtel slowed to a crawl to allow Humber’s team to open the range before taking the same turn. He knew what he was doing, but allowing the distance between them to widen still further was risky. They didn’t want to lose sight of them completely.

“We must be getting close,” Barrows said. “There’s nothing on the map for miles in any direction except this place.” He tapped a finger on the map and angled it for Bechtel to see. “There’s no name.”

“A town?”

“I don’t think so. It looks too small for that. Maybe a house or cabin? I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out.”

Bechtel grunted. “No kidding,” he said and slowed even more. “They’re stopping.”

Barrows peered ahead as the sergeant pulled over. “This must be it. I’ll want your people to set a perimeter around this place.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Sergeant?”

“Sir?”

“I know what you were told about Arcadian and the Chicago thing. I won’t debate with you who was to blame for our losses that day. Frankly, I don’t care if you like me or not, but you
will
follow my orders. Assuming she’s alive and we can do it without risking the mission I want to extract the Stirling woman unharmed if possible.” He hesitated but then made his decision. “I guess we can extend that to other human hostages if there are any, but they’re not a priority. Get me?”

Bechtel nodded and smiled. He actually looked approving for a change. “Kill all non-humans. I like that kind of order. Makes things simple.”

“Not quite. I’m including the AML fanatics in that kill order. Objections?”

“Nope. They’ll be trying to off my men and me. I consider that sort of thing unfriendly.”

Barrows nodded and opened his door to climb out.

The other vans had parked close by and Bechtel’s men were assembling. He smoothed the map out over the hood of the closest vehicle and everyone gathered around to listen. Doug and the other OSI agents were conspicuous in their different appearance. Although all of them were wearing black body armour of similar design, Bechtel’s men were like walking armouries. They had assault rifles in hand, but the loops on their vests sported many other weapons. Blades of all shapes and sizes were in evidence together with old-fashioned stakes and modern stun weapons. He could even make out a sword handle rising over the shoulder of one man, and if he wasn’t mistaken, there were quite a few of the new gas propelled stake guns slung across chests. A few modern compound crossbows rounded out the mix. His OSI people were poor relations in comparison. They carried assault rifles and their K6 Remington stunners holstered under their arms, but that was it.

One of the men illuminated the map with a flashlight and Barrows pointed out the target. “I want this place locked down. No one leaves without our say so. Sergeant Bechtel will choose who stays with us for the main assault. The rest of you will surround the place and enforce containment. Weapons free, gentlemen. Secrecy must be maintained no matter the cost. Collateral damage is not on my radar, and I can assure you, it’s not on the Director’s radar either. The only thing that might get us canned is letting someone talk.”

“Question, sir,” one man said.

“Ask.”

“What if they surrender?”

Barrows stared, and then glanced at Bechtel who rolled his eyes. The questioner was obviously very green. He was baby-faced and new on the team, recruited only recently.

“Cousins, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, Cousins, what part of the weapons free and secrecy must be maintained order don’t you understand?”

Cousins flushed.

Barrows surveyed all the men. “In case anyone else is in any doubt: No... One... Leaves. Understood?”

The men mumbled agreement.

“Now then, I would like it very much if the human hostages can be rescued, but that’s not a priority. Miss Stirling may or may not be still alive; we may or may not rescue her. If we can do it without losing containment, then fine—her family’s friends have a lot of pull where it counts—but saving her at the cost of losing Arcadian is unacceptable.” He let the seriousness of the situation settle in their minds with his silence. He caught and held as many of their eyes as he could, and received acknowledgements in the form of nods and their firming grip upon weapons. “Sergeant Bechtel, they’re your men. Get it done.”