Gray Matter Splatter (A Deckard Novel Book 4) (30 page)

“Fucking do it if you don’t want to get shot!”

Toby reluctantly unzipped his blue and gray parka, setting
it on the ground next to him before undoing his belt buckle and
dropping his pants.

“Now lift your shirt up!”

“Is this really necessary?”

“Just do it!”

Toby lifted his shirt, exposing his sizable belly to the
elements.

“Now do the truffle shuffle!”

“The what?”

“Knock it the fuck off,” Deckard said from behind Rochenoire.

With a sigh, the former SEAL told Toby he could put his clothes
back on. Zipping his jacket up, the engineer waddled over to the
mercenaries.

“What the hell was that about?” he asked with a scowl.

“Had to check for an S-vest,” Rochenoire told him.

“S-vest?”

“Suicide vest.”

“You mean like explosives?”

“Yup.”

“Damn, man, they never got me. I was hiding in the rocks by the
shore when they came. Killed four of our employees. The rest of us
ran for our lives.”

“Where are they?”

“Inside. There are three of us left.”

“And the boat?”

“They took it and continued east.”

“You still have comms?” Deckard interjected.

“Yeah, I already sent out a distress signal. The Canadian Navy
is sending someone. They warned us that you were probably going to
show up.”

“True, and the Canadian Army is already here.”

Barry stepped forward and shook his countryman’s hand.

“I’m sorry about what happened here today. It is unacceptable
and I promise that we will bring those responsible to justice.”

“One way or the other,” Deckard said under his breath.

Barry glared at him.

* * *

“We've been laying thousands of kilometers of fiber,”
Toby explained. “It took a long time to map out the bottom of the
ocean at first, but with the Arctic Ocean no longer frozen solid all
year round, we will finally be able to connect New York, London, and
Tokyo with high-speed fiber optic communications, with a lot less
fiber than if we had to cross the Pacific and Atlantic oceans.”

The electrical engineer was getting carried away talking
about his work, seemingly oblivious to everything that had happened
in recent hours.

“Our cable ship toots along at just two kilometers an hour, and
the fiber is slowly unwound from giant spools on the deck of the
ship,” the engineer paused. “Or at least it was until those
Chinese and Russian dudes stole it.”

“Let’s take this one thing at a time, dude,” Deckard
replied. “First things first, we need to find a way to get off this
rock and track them down.”

“If I can get some connectivity, I’ll reach back to CANSOFCOM
and see what assets are in the area,” Barry said, stepping into the
fiber optic station behind Deckard.

“Good idea. I’ll hit up my people as well.”

“I’ll take you to our comms center,” Toby said to the
Canadian warrant officer.

“Lead the way.”

While the Canadians went to the other room, Deckard turned his
attention to another engineer who worked at the fiber optic station.
She was in her fifties, with shoulder-length straw-colored hair held
back in a ponytail.

“Is this facility private sector or government funded?”
Deckard asked.

“It’s a joint venture between several governments and
corporations. We’re with Deep Fiber Incorporated and handle the
laying of the physical cables along the sea bed.”

“Gotcha.”

“I’m Linda, by the way,” she said, attempting a smile and
holding out her hand.

“Oh, sorry. I’m a bit distracted. I’m Deckard.”

“No worries. I guess we all are after losing Gus, Tony, and the
others.”

“Those responsible are going to pay for their crimes,”
Deckard assured her. “We just need to source some transportation
off of Ellesmere Island and catch up with them.”

“What kind of transport?”

“Sister, I could care less as long as it can move my men and
equipment. Even better if it is fast enough to catch up with these
bastards sooner rather than later. We have a ship, but it will take a
few days for it to circle around from the other side of the island.”

The female engineer paused, staring off into space for a moment.

“Linda?”

She opened her mouth as if she was about to say something, but
the words didn’t come out.

“Linda?”

* * *

“Deckard,” Barry looked over his shoulder as he heard
the mercenary walk into the comms room. “My command is having F16s
scrambled on a search and destroy mission for that cable-laying
trawler.”

“Linda just got off the phone as well. We have transportation
arriving for us within the hour.”

“Within the hour? They told me they didn’t have anything
available in the area.”

“Commercial, not military.”

“What?”

“If you’re done, I need to jump on the line. Can you do VTC?”
Deckard asked, turning toward Toby.

“Yeah, we do it all the time with our HQ in Ottawa.”

Barry stood and Deckard took his seat, then dialed up SCOPE back
in Tampa, Florida.

The four-man think tank immediately appeared on screen.

“Holy shit,” Craig answered. “We were starting to
worry.”

“Let’s cut the shit. I don’t have a lot of time.”

Deckard quickly brought the think tank up to speed on the events
of the last 48 hours, revealing that they had transportation inbound.

“Listen, Deckard, they can’t have gotten far in that
trawler. We’ll mobilize NSA and NRO assets to start searching for
them. Some of these platforms are starting to become available now
that things are finally quieting down CONUS,” Will informed him.

“Let me know. In the meantime, I have something else I need to
run by you. This mission just keeps getting weirder and weirder.”

“What is it?”

Explaining in depth what happened the previous night, he gave
Pat’s account of the lone Chinese super soldier.

“Pat is one of the meanest guys you never want to encounter in
a dark alley, but he got taken apart. He described his attacker as
having superhuman speed and agility, saw him jump like ten feet
straight up into the air.”

Several members of the think tank looked at each other. Will
crossed his arms.

“What is it?” Deckard demanded.

“More rumors, that’s all,” Will said.

“Rumors are quickly becoming facts these days. Rumors
about earthquake machines, for example.”

“There are a few competing theories amongst some circles within
the intelligence community,” Will replied, his voice coming in a
little scratchy over the satellite uplink. “One theory is that the
People’s Republic of China is running some kind of super-soldier
program.”

“And the other?”

“That the Chinese government is engaging in the largest
eugenics project that the world has ever seen—the reshaping of
their entire population and the creation of a new man.”

“You mean the one-child policy?”

“It starts there and only gets creepier. In recent Olympic
games, we have seen thirteen-year-old Chinese gymnasts do
extraordinary things. Impossible things. I’m not talking about just
a gold medal performance, I’m talking about athletic moves that
have literally never been seen before. Again, there are two theories
here.”

“I’m listening.”

“The first is that they are gene doping their athletes. The
other is that these kids are grown in a lab.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah, this ain’t no Captain America super-serum.
Frankly, I think it more likely that they are gene doping, not just
athletes, but selected units in the People’s Liberation Army as
well.”

“Is that like blood doping?”

“No. Let me put it like this: Some people have abnormal but
completely natural abnormalities in their genetics that allow them
enhanced performance by comparison to normal people. Most Olympic
sprinters have the ACTN3 gene, for instance. Eero Mäntyranta was a
Finnish gold medalist skier. It turned out that his entire family had
abnormal responses to erythropoietin, meaning he had more
oxygen-carrying red blood cells, essentially giving him superhuman
endurance. Even you, Deckard, probably have some abnormal genes that
have helped you perform in your career field where the average person
would fail.

“Now imagine that we were able to play with these genetic
characteristics. Using myostatin inhibitors, we could give a normal
person superhuman strength. We could make the person, the soldier,
faster, even smarter than his genetics allow.”

“How can that be done?”

“A series of injections. The technology has been there for
decades, but our Western medical ethics make it impossible for us to
further research and experiment with this type of technology.
Needless to say, the Chinese have no such restraints.”

“Holy shit.”

“Deckard, the fact that the enemy, this Oculus group you talk
about, has put so much on the line, exposed so many tactics and
techniques for the first time, demonstrates that they have placed all
of their bets on this operation. Maybe they really are planning to
explode the Yellowstone caldera, or something equally devastating.
Otherwise, their actions don’t make any sense. China has always
believed that they should bide their time and build their
capabilities, unwilling to face a direct military confrontation with
America until the time is right.”

“It seems that the time has arrived,” Deckard said as
he sat back in his chair and rubbed his face.

“Stay in touch. We may be able to provide further
support on our end. Hopefully we’ll come through with a fresh
lead.”

“Start coordinating with the Danes now.”

“Danes?”

“Yeah, Oculus is heading toward Greenland. No idea if that is
their destination, but the Danish government will want to know we are
in the area. It would only take that trawler about five hours to make
it to Greenland, and they already have a three-hour head start.”

“We'll contact Thule Air Base as well.”

“Sounds good,” Deckard replied, his finger hovering over the
button to shut down the video teleconference. “I have one more
thing to take care of before I leave.”

* * *

Airspace over Greenland

Vampire One-Zero hit the afterburners as Greenland’s snowscape
screamed by below him, heading toward an intercept with a Canadian
CF-18 fighter. The Danish F-16 banked slightly as the pilot juked the
sidestick controller, nudging the aircraft toward the proper
intercept trajectory at Mach 2, the g-forces pushing him back in his
seat.

“Rabbit Two-Two, this is Vampire One-Zero,” the pilot
announced over the radio as he watched the foreign fighter jet move
across his radar display. “Be advised, you are now entering
sovereign Danish territory. Turn your aircraft around immediately,
over.”

“No can do, Vampire,” the Canadian-accented voice came over
the Dane’s headset. “Be advised that you are approaching
sovereign Canadian territory. Advise that you turn back immediately,
over.”

Vampire’s flight helmet bounced off the back of his seat as he
sighed inside his oxygen mask. What he wouldn’t give to jump into
the fray with Operation Inherent Resolve in Syria or Iraq instead of
having dick-measuring contests in the Arctic with supposed NATO
allies.

The coast of Greenland was coming up fast, the snow giving
way to the icy straits of Kennedy Channel between Greenland and
Ellesmere Island. Vampire’s pale blue eyes could already make out
Hans Island in the center of the channel. The F-16 fighter pilot had
sat in on enough briefings to be sick to death of hearing about the
barren outcropping of rocks out in the middle of literally nothing.

The Danish government claimed the island as an extension of
Greenland’s landmass. Meanwhile, the Canadians made their own legal
claims based on their past use and occupation, studying sea lions and
snowflakes, no doubt. Apparently, possession really was nine tenths
of the law. With oil and natural gas deposits being discovered in the
waters surrounding Hans Island, tensions had only ramped up in recent
years.

With maritime trade drastically increasing in the Arctic Circle,
both countries were speculating that Hans Island would soon become an
important maritime choke point for merchant vessels, maybe even
rivaling the Panama and Suez canals one day.

But really. Both pilots had better things to do today.

“Rabbit, I’ve been dispatched on a search grid for a vessel
potentially violating Danish sovereignty in our waters. Just stay the
hell away from Hans Island today, over.”

“They got me on the same mission, Vampire, but you know the
rules. Hans is Canadian, over.”

Vampire clenched his eyes shut, fantasizing about activating an
air-to-air missile or two.

* * *

“You have nothing to feel ashamed of.”

The blade master looked at the mage wearily.

“You fought honorably and failed. There is no shame in this,”
the mage said as he circled the cauldron in the center of the room.

“I’m not quite out of the game yet,” the blade master
countered.

“Yes, you are,” the mage said as if he were stating a fact.
“This is over. You will never be able to find my men where they are
going.”

“Oculus.”

The mage spun around at the mention of the name and faced the
young blade master.

“You mean I won’t be able to find Oculus where they are
going.”

Flicking his hand dismissively, the mage continued around the
cauldron. “It is of no matter.”

“It is of some matter. You directed your minions to leave the
communications at this facility running because you wanted to talk to
me one more time. You know, the Chinese dudes you have on
super-serum.”

“Excuse me?”

“Gene doping. We both know that isn’t natural strength.”

“Ah, so you’ve come in direct contact with them. I am even
more impressed.”