The Chimera Secret (18 page)

‘You came out here, though,’ Ethan pointed out.

A drizzle hung like a fine mist of rain so light that it could not fall, only float on the cold air. It enshrouded the forests as they tracked alongside the edge of an icy stream winding between
the soaring hillsides.

‘Because being a sceptic doesn’t mean you have to be an ass,’ Dana replied. ‘Wanting to test evidence is one thing. Writing it off before you’ve even looked at it
is another entirely. Most scientists wouldn’t dare put their name to a study like this because it would be virtual career suicide. I don’t think that’s the most productive way to
advance human knowledge.’

‘Is this an official visit then?’ Lopez asked.

‘Not exactly,’ Proctor admitted. ‘We were made to sign non-disclosure agreements.’

Ethan chuckled and shook his head.

‘So if you come out here and you find what you were looking for, you can’t tell anybody about it.’

‘No,’ Dana agreed as they hiked up between boulders littering the side of the creek. ‘But what we learn here can go into our next study. I figured that if the government wanted
advisors out here who had some knowledge of cryptozoology and were insisting that we sign non-disclosure agreements, then there had to be something juicy waiting to be found.’

Lopez nodded as she glanced across at Dana.

‘Oh, there’s something out here all right.’

Ethan was about to put his foot down as he walked when he heard a faint metallic snicker from within dense trees to his right. He froze with his boot inches from the ground and turned his head
fractionally to the right.

The dark maw of the treeline stared back at him, the misty dew-laden air drifting past in silence above the soft gurgling of the creek. Lopez’s voice reached him.

‘You smell somethin’?’

Ethan squinted into the woods for a moment longer.

‘We’re being watched,’ he replied.

‘By what?’ Lopez asked.

‘By whom, you mean,’ Ethan replied, then called out into the woods. ‘You guys want to come out or are you just going to sit there watching us all day?’

The voice that replied came from behind them.

‘We’re here.’

Ethan turned in surprise and saw seven soldiers now standing in plain view behind them, all wearing full battle-kit and cradling M-16 assault rifles. He turned back to the treeline and saw a
single soldier stand up and make his way toward them.
Caught in crossfire
, he realized, an easy and deliberate way to distract the attention of enemy troops to a supposed error while the
real danger emerged from behind them.

Ethan turned back to the seven soldiers, one of whom stepped forward. Tall and square-jawed, his face smeared with camouflage paint, he looked every inch the infantryman. There was no rank
insignia on his fatigues, but his steady gaze and age marked him out as an officer. He offered Ethan a leather-gloved hand.

‘Ethan Warner? Lieutenant Jim Watson, Idaho National Guard,’ he introduced himself with a shake of Ethan’s hand. ‘We’re here to baby-sit you on your little camping
trip.’

The line was delivered with a genuine smile and Ethan found himself warming to the officer immediately. Watson introduced his men to them as they stepped forward. His sergeant was a man named
Kurt Agry, a couple of inches shorter than Ethan and maybe twenty pounds lighter, but he was stout and compact and his features had been hewn into hard lines by the axe of military training. His
hair was shaved down to a gray stubble that stained his almost square head. The corporal was a younger guy called Jenkins, tall and rangy.

The rest of the soldiers were amiable but reserved toward their civilian charges. He caught their names; Milner, Simmons, Archer, Klein, Willis. Most wore black basketball-style caps over their
heads and generally kept their faces vaguely concealed as though concerned about their identities. Ethan smiled inwardly. National Guard soldiers were occasionally prone to inflating their
appearance to mimic battle-hardened front-line troops. Ethan didn’t care much: what mattered to him was that they had firepower, and plenty of it.

‘You guys got a game plan here?’ Lieutenant Watson asked Ethan. ‘Our brief was exactly that: brief.’

‘Fox Creek,’ Ethan replied, and showed Watson the position on the map. ‘This is the closest we have to a location for the disappearance of a man named Cletus MacCarthy. Finding
him is the key to proving the innocence of his brother Jesse, who is currently facing trial for his murder.’

The lieutenant frowned at the map. His sergeant, Kurt Agry, shot Ethan a confused look.

‘Civil case?’ he guessed. ‘Why are we down here and involved in it?’

Ethan decided not to beat about the bush.

‘Because whatever killed Cletus was strong enough, or mad enough, to decapitate a park ranger with a single blow.’

The soldiers glanced at each other, their interest piqued. Ethan folded the map away as Watson shrugged and smiled.

‘Well, no sense in standing here debating. We’d best move out.’

Kurt Agry raised an eyebrow at his lieutenant.

‘You got any idea what could do that to a man? There was nothing in the brief about bear-hunting.’

‘We’re not sure,’ Ethan replied. ‘The suspicion is that it might have been a sasquatch.’

Watson and Kurt stared at Ethan for a long, silent moment. ‘Seriously?’ Watson murmured.

‘Apparently so,’ Lopez replied. ‘Hence you guys and the heavy weapons.’

Ethan scanned the soldiers. All carried M-16s, probably service pistols too, but he saw no grenades other than ‘flashbangs’, designed to stun and blind unprepared opponents. Each man
carried a bergen, filled with equipment and extra ammunition. Two of the troops carried Mossberg 500 pump-action, 12-gauge shotguns.

The sergeant did not look impressed.

‘We’ve been deployed to hunt down a sasquatch?’ Kurt Agry asked. ‘What’s after that, werewolves?’

The soldiers behind him chuckled. The voice that replied didn’t.

‘That might be safer.’

The group turned as from the forest walked an old man and a young woman. Ethan recognized Duran Wilkes and his granddaughter Mary as they walked toward the group.

‘We can track animals,’ Kurt Agry murmured to Ethan, suddenly changing his tune. ‘There was no need to bring in the rednecks.’

‘Local knowledge,’ Ethan countered him. ‘No amount of training can equal that.’

The old man and his granddaughter stopped in front of the group. The man spoke in a voice imbued with the confidence of a man entirely at home in the wilderness.

‘Duran Wilkes,’ he announced. ‘This is my granddaughter, Mary.’

‘Welcome aboard,’ Lieutenant Watson said. ‘More the merrier, I suppose.’

Kurt Agry thrust himself into the conversation.

‘Thanks for coming, but from what Warner here says it’s probably best if we take point right now.’

Duran Wilkes raised an eyebrow at the soldier. ‘How’s that, son?’

‘Experience and training,’ Kurt replied. ‘We’re kitted out for this whereas you’re not. This is a big group to move through the hills without being detected, and
we’ve already had a chance to get a lay of the land since we arrived so we’ve got a bit of a head start on you guys.’

Duran Wilkes stared at the soldier for a long moment and then chuckled.

‘Sure thing, mister,’ he replied. ‘You boys go ahead and take the lead.’

Kurt Agry nodded, and with a brief flick of his head gestured to the other soldiers.

‘Let’s move out!’

Ethan watched as the soldiers fanned out into a loose phalanx and turned north to follow the stream up into the mountains. He turned to Duran.

‘Thought you weren’t coming out?’

‘Change of heart,’ Duran said. ‘Doesn’t mean I like bein’ here.’

‘You’ve got local knowledge,’ Lieutenant Watson said. ‘That counts for a lot. Don’t mind my sergeant, he’s old school. Personally I’m glad you showed up
here today.’

Duran looked up at him and a twinkle of light gleamed in his ancient eyes.

‘We didn’t get here today, we turned up yesterday evening. Been watching your troops all night.’

Lieutenant Watson grinned beneath his heavy camouflage paint, looking at the old man with new respect.

‘I’ll be damned,’ he replied. ‘Sergeant Agry didn’t spot either of you.’

Ethan hefted his bergen onto his shoulders and gestured for Duran to lead the way.

‘Looks like we’ll be following you after all.’

Natalie Warner pressed the button on her key fob and the lights of her Ford Taurus flashed briefly as she walked toward it. The bright sunshine was warm on her hair as she
opened the door and climbed inside.

She pulled out of the lot slowly and eased the car out onto 3rd Street.

Fact was, she had no idea what she was doing. Natalie did not have the first clue about how a surveillance operation was run. It had been an instinctive decision to leave the Capitol and drive
out of the district toward Maryland. Her reasoning was simple enough: if she was the subject of a surveillance operation then somebody would be following her.

Natalie felt an almost childlike sense of anticipation as she briefly scanned the handful of cars visible in her rear-view mirror as she cruised west on Madison, the nearby Washington Monument
towering into the powder-blue sky. A dark-blue sedan, a silver GMC, two cyclists hugging the sidewalk and a glossy red Pontiac. She remembered watching cop shows shot on these very streets as
secret agents sought to foil the impenetrable plans of unspeakably evil organizations bent on world domination.

The excitement waned as she reminded herself that this was the real world and that this surveillance, whatever the reason for it, was also just as real.

She drove up onto the Arlington Memorial Bridge, the Potomac glittering beneath the bright sunshine, and looked again in her mirror. The Pontiac was gone, as were the cyclists, left far behind.
The silver GMC was still with her, and the blue sedan, two people inside it.

Interesting, but hardly a cause for concern. There was plenty of traffic flowing from the district across the Potomac. Ahead, the bridge descended down to a circular near the National Cemetery.
Two lanes on the right headed north for the Memorial Parkway. The left lane was for traffic heading south on the Parkway or toward Fort Myer. Natalie stayed in the central lane and scanned her
mirror.

The GMC loitered about four cars back in her lane. The sedan had taken the Fort Myer lane and was two cars back.

Natalie waited until the last moment, and then just before the lanes split from each other she switched lanes abruptly.

Behind her the GMC swerved to match her, tucking in behind a deli van with bright fruits emblazoned across its side.

Natalie’s previous excitement vanished, to be replaced with concern. The GMC was a slightly modified version with flared wheel arches and tinted windows, the kind of thing a college
student might possess if he had too much money to blow.

She followed the circular round and headed down the Esplanade. The GMC stayed with her, three cars back. She took the first exit onto the switchback and joined the Jefferson Davis Highway headed
south. The sedan had vanished. The GMC stayed with her, now the same distance behind but with only one car separating them until they hit the highway.

Natalie settled down into a steady cruise and watched carefully as the GMC matched her speed in the outside lane. It had closed on her slightly and moved into a position off her right that was
hard to monitor without checking over her shoulder.

Paranoia prevented her from looking. If they guessed that she was onto them they might break off. She glanced ahead. Highway One crossed overhead less than a mile away and signs for Washington
and Pentagon City showed for the next exit.

Natalie waited until the last possible moment before hitting her turn signal and switching lanes as she took the exit for Washington. Having come from the district, she was now heading straight
back there. The chances of the GMC needing to do the same were unlikely in the extreme.

She checked her mirror as she rounded the switchback and joined the US-1 headed straight back toward the Potomac. The GMC didn’t show. Natalie joined the flow of traffic and wondered
briefly if the whole thing had been just a waste of time and gasoline. By the time she made it back to the district again and got parked she would barely have time to grab something for lunch
before she would be due back at her desk.

‘Dammit.’

She thumped the wheel and turned on her signal to change lane as she glanced in her mirror.

Her heart skipped a beat.

The dark-blue sedan was two cars back. She blinked, checked again. Same vehicle, same plate. Only the driver was alone now, his passenger gone. Natalie’s mind went into overdrive. The
sedan had pulled off somewhere between the Esplanade and the switchback south for the Jefferson Davis Highway. It could have been someone dropping a work colleague home, or a friend to the metro,
or just a family member who got out for a walk in the sunshine over the bridge. Anything. And now they were headed back to the district.

Natalie saw a truck cruising slowly in the inside lane ahead. On an impulse, she switched lanes and dropped in behind it as she grabbed her cellphone from the inside pocket of her jacket.
Driving one-handed, she selected the cell’s camera and activated it as the now faster-moving sedan was forced by the flow of traffic to pass her. A Cadillac Catera, Virginia plates,
child-seat in back, Virginia Cavaliers patch in the window.

As it cruised by, Natalie looked straight across at the driver.

Male, maybe in his forties. A long and angular face, short gray hair. Looking studiously ahead to avoid looking directly into the camera, the windows of the vehicle tinted enough to obscure
detail. Natalie clicked the camera button as the sedan moved past, and then shot another picture of the tailgate. As she lowered the cell she saw the driver glance in his wing mirror as he cruised
away in the faster flow.

She wasn’t imagining it, she knew. The guy was tailing her. Quite possibly two vehicles watching her, switching places to try and avoid being noticed. A new sense of anxiety swelled within
her as she considered this. Two vehicles, multiple individuals, all dedicated to watching the every move of a lowly analyst at the Capitol.