Obsessions: A Monster Squad Novel 7 (36 page)

“True enough. We did agree upon such terms.” Lilith spun back to Viktor and took his hand. “Show me what you have brought.”

Viktor lead her to the door and pointed out the crates and boxes being placed just outside the office. “We have eleven monitors for you. A spare in case we have issues with one…and servers and power supplies and everything we should need to have you up and running soon.”

She stepped back and waved him through the door. “Then let me stay out of your way. You have work to do.” She turned and glided out the door nearly silently.

Viktor turned to Rufus and gave him a questioning look. “You are not a prisoner?”

Rufus shook his head. “Perhaps I would have been, but I offered to assist her in her attempt to take over the world.”

“You…” Viktor found the words stuck in his throat. “You are assisting her?”

“Just as you are.” Rufus patted the man’s shoulder. “Stick with your plan. It’s definitely on the right track.” He gave him a slight wink as he stepped toward the door.

*****

Laura was shaken awake by Derek, a concerned look across his features. “Get up, Punk.”

She sat up and rubbed at her eyes groggily. “What’s wrong?”

Derek thrust a cup of coffee toward her. “We need to get going pretty quick.”

She took the mug and stared up at him through bloodshot eyes. “What’s the rush? You kicking me out already? I just got here.” She smiled to herself as she sipped the bitter wake-up juice.

“It’s Dad.”

Her eyes shot open and she scooted to the edge of the mattress, her coffee mug set on the nightstand. “What’s happened?”

“They can’t keep him in bed. He keeps swearing that he’s fine and that he wants to go home.” Derek pulled his t-shirt over his head as he spoke through the door. “Crystal wants us down there to talk some sense into him.”

“Oh, my God…” Laura scooted off the bed and took a quick gulp of the coffee. She threw on her jeans and pulled a shirt from her bag. She stuffed it into her jeans and started pulling her boots on when Derek pushed open her door again. “Gah! For crying out loud, drag a comb through your hair or something. You look like you’ve been scared half to death.”

“I just woke up, you jackass. Give me a minute.”

She threw a dirty sock at him as he scooted back through the door. She took another drink of the coffee and pushed her way into the bathroom. One look in the mirror and she knew why he had teased her. She grabbed her brush and pulled her back and into a pony tail. No time for anything fancy today. She threw on her Bronco’s ball cap and looked in the mirror. Other than some darkness under her eyes, she didn’t really look any worse for wear.

“We’re stopping at a real coffee house on the way there.” She finished the mug o’ mud that Derek had given her and set the cup in the sink. She noticed all of the empty beer bottles scattered around the living room and poked her brother. “You’d better hope Dad doesn’t get to come home today. He’ll kill you for leaving all the dead soldiers out on the battlefield.”

Derek groaned and grabbed the kitchen trash, sliding empty bottles into it. “Go warm up the car.”

“It’s fuel injected. It doesn’t need to warm up.” She scooped her keys from the coffee table and headed for the door. “But I’ll wait for you out there.”

Derek played on his phone while she drove and didn’t really speak until she pulled out of the drive through all night doughnut shop. He finally put his phone down and turned to her. “Do you really think there’s a chance they’ll let him leave?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, D. If they decide to run a bunch of tests, then no. But if he insists on going home, I don’t think they can stop him.”

“Crap.” He ran a hand through his dark hair and stifled a yawn. “I’d hate to think what could come of this. It’s one thing if he slowly started recovering but for it to happen seemingly overnight?”

She shrugged. “He was in a lot rougher shape than I thought.” She took a sip of her latte and didn’t taste it for the fear running through her. What if they tested his blood and found the virus? What if a lab tech accidentally got infected? How would she explain to the squads how a wolf was accidentally created in her home town without having been attacked?

“You couldn’t have known, Punk. Even Jimmy didn’t want to tell you how bad he’d gotten,” Derek’s voice was soft and apologetic.

“But if I’d known, I could have come sooner.” She pulled into the parking lot and shut off the Jeep. “I tried to come home about six months ago but…” Her voice trailed off and she averted her eyes.

“It’s okay. I understand. You had to save the world from monsters and shit.” He shot her a crooked grin.

Laura shook her head. “No. Actually I’d quit at probably the worst possible time.” She turned and faced him. “But we were facing probably one of the worst possible situations and I was afraid. If something happened to me? I’d never be able to make it to dad in time and…”

He reached out and gripped her hand. “Hey, you made it in time. He’s still kicking. And he wants to get the hell out of there.”

She looked out the window and the deep black of the sky. “Why couldn’t he have waited until morning?”

Derek laughed. “It’s Dad. 3AM
is
morning!” He opened the door and stepped out of the Jeep.

Laura got out and walked to the doors of the hospital. A creepy feeling fell over her as she entered the foyer of the hospital and the reception desk sat empty.

*****

“Odds are slim we’ll actually find anything, you know that, right?”

Spalding turned his eyes from the road and grunted. “That’s the fourth time you’ve said that since we left.”

“I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.” Little John held onto the Oh-Shit handle as Spalding took the turn into the industrial complex. He relaxed when the truck straightened out then stiffened again. “Whoa!” He slapped Spalding’s arm and pointed. “Lights.”

Spalding killed the headlights and let off the accelerator, allowing the truck to coast along the empty paved street. “Nobody’s supposed to be there.” He pulled the truck to the side of the road and jumped the concrete curb, letting it come to rest on the dirt shoulder.

“You don’t think our shooter would be stupid enough to return here, do you?” Little John reached for the rifle in the back seat of the truck came to his knee across the console. He poked his head out of the sunroof and brought the rifle scope to his eye.

“I have no idea who it could be. Hell, it could be teenagers coming up here to drink and get laid.” Spalding killed the engine and hit the button for the window. He watched from a distance but couldn’t make out anything discernible. “See anything?”

“I’ve got two moving near the gate.” John slid back down from the sunroof, his jaw set. “They’re armed.”

Spalding rubbed at this chin, his gears turning. “By all rights we should call this in and get the team together.”

John gave him a knowing look. “So they can scatter like roaches before we can get back?”

Spalding glanced back up the hill toward the warehouse. “I guess if we were quiet, we could take a look. Get an idea how many we’re talking about.”

“And kill them.” John shot him a wink.

“Let’s see who they are first.” Spalding reached behind him and grabbed his own rifle. Since so many operators had made the switch to M4s, he found himself grabbing the familiar rifle rather than using the venerable P90. He still often carried one slung to his back as they were lightweight and delivered a hell of a punch, but when you really wanted to reach out and touch somebody, the extra power of the 5.56 round made him much more comfortable.

Both men slipped from the truck and Little John brought the heavy SCAR to his shoulder, his eye scanning the area as the two made their way up the hill in a crouched advance. The waist high grass rustled against their uniforms as they moved silently up the hill, using what little cover there was to conceal their movement.

John slipped in behind a rather large oak tree and stole a quick glance toward the gate. Both guards had their backs turned to the drive and seemed to be in a heated discussion. He motioned to Spalding to advance and watched as the man slithered up the hill, the grass barely moving as he settled in next to a small stand of brush. He brought his scope to his eye and scanned the area.

John stole another quick glance and motioned to Spalding who shook him off. Using hand signals he indicated that another guard was on the roof. Little John settled in low on the tree and pulled the suppressor from his pack. He quickly attached the canister to the end of the .308 and slipped around the base of the tree. The grass concealed him as he scanned the rooftop. Finding the guard sitting at the peak, the orange glow of a cigarette flaring as he inhaled, Little John adjusted his scope for distance and elevation. There was no wind to speak of as he settled the crosshairs on the guard.

Spalding watched through his own scope as the guard’s head exploded in a silvery mist when the SCAR coughed its deadly round. The bloody spray reflected the small amount of moonlight and made the spray appear silver rather than pink. He nodded with satisfaction as the man slumped and fell to his side. He gave a thumb’s up to Spalding and the two turned their attention to the guards at the gate.

Spalding gave the hold sign and the two would-be snipers waited to ensure that another guard didn’t appear to throw a monkey wrench into the works. Once he was satisfied that the immediate area was clear, he signaled Sullivan. Almost simultaneously, both rifles spit their deadly silver plated rounds, decimating their targets. Spalding took the head shot and Little John went for the heart. Both shots struck with deadly accuracy.

The two men scrambled to their feet and made for the gate. Spalding pushed one side open first and grabbed a guard by the ankles, dragging him out and into the tall grass. John grabbed the other guard by the belt and carried him out, stacking him unceremoniously next to his partner. “I think it’s safe to assume our shooter isn’t alone.”

Spalding glanced over his shoulder and stared at the building, the rows of shipping containers still in position in front. “What do you want to bet they have a whole new army?”

“Ya think?”

“Well, that is the way our luck runs, ain’t it?” Spalding slipped back across the open yard and fell into the shadows of the shipping containers. Little John cleared the next corner and the two advanced. “We may have no choice but to engage.”

“You don’t call those three guards we shot engaging?” John shot him a smirk.

“That’s not engaging the whole damn lot of them.” Spalding slipped ahead and cleared the next corner. They could hear the sounds of construction and people talking. Spalding slipped in next to the building and peered through a window. The sight of numerous people within the building sent a chill through him. “Fuck, if I’d had any clue, I’d have brought coms.”

“Given a choice, I’d have brought the rest of the team.”

*****

Bob Stevens knew he was risking more than his career as he slipped the keycard into the reader and pushed open the doors. He had the keycard made for an employee that transferred almost immediately to a field office. With instructions to destroy the card and delete the permissions, Bob thought then that it might one day come in handy. He never actually thought that he’d be the one using it.

He pulled the hood up and over his face before approaching the building. He knew where almost all of the cameras were and he prayed that his precautions would protect him. When the door light turned green, he let loose the breath that he hadn’t realized he had been holding and quickly pushed his way through before he could change his mind. As soon as the door shut behind him, he turned and began taking the stairs two at a time.

He finally reached the top floor and pulled a small pouch from his pocket. He fumbled with it as he walked across the padded carpet floor toward the director’s office. He pulled the lock picks from their pouch and quickly went to work on the door. He prayed the entire time that the director wasn’t so security minded that he had different locks installed. Bob knew he could pick the standard locks used throughout the building, but the
director’s
office?

He nearly fainted when the lock clicked and allowed him to turn the barrel within the cylinder. He pulled the lever and pushed the door open slowly. He glanced around the darkened office and looked for anything out of the ordinary; red lights in the corners or along the floors that would indicate a laser grid security system. Heat scanners or pressure monitors in the floor. He paused just inside the door and felt his shoulders slump. He’d watched too many spy movies.

He quickly slid in behind the desk and began tugging at drawers, a penlight pinched tight between his teeth. He scanned the files in the desk drawer and came up empty. He reached for the other side of the desk and found the drawer locked. He quickly dug out his lock picks and went to work again.

He could feel the sweat forming above his lip and across his forehead as he worked the lock, a sigh of relief escaping as the lock turned and the drawer slid open. He pulled it out and began digging through them. Nothing on Project Gladiator that he could find. Bob sat down in the director’s chair and glanced around the darkened office. “If I were a paranoid dictator, where would I hide shit?”