Monster Hunter Nemesis (24 page)

“How many do you want to send?” asked one of his tactical minions.

There wouldn’t be any screwing around with inferior monsters this time. “Send all thirteen.”

“Sir, there’s something else,” said another geek. “We’re running through the other calls placed from that number. Armstrong was just the first one. She’s also called numbers belonging to Grimm Berlin, Uwharrie Security, and VSJ. The NSA is sending over the recordings now.”

“Hell hath no fury like a succubus scorned.” Stricken chuckled. Doubtless the recordings would all be the same, with Lana arranging a cut of the bounty in exchange for vectoring professional killers in on the thing that had hurt her tender feelings. He could appreciate a vindictive monster. “It appears Lana has quite the extensive little black book.”

“I think she’s sending all the Monster Hunters after him, sir.”

He’d not seen the final count of who had shown up looking to collect, but there was really only one company in particular that concerned him. They were an annoying mix of unpredictability and effectiveness coupled with a very annoying sense of personal honor. “Out of curiosity, has she contacted anyone from Monster Hunter International?”

“No, sir. As far as we’re aware MHI isn’t participating in the search for Franks.”

I’m disappointed in you, Earl. . . .

The man who had called the MCB reported back, “Bad news, Mr. Stricken. They thought Myers was in a closed door meeting for the last hour, but he’s gone.”

“That’s not bad news at all.” That more than likely meant that his chief rival and pain in the ass was on his way to collude with a terrorist. That was treason. Nobody on the Subcommittee would bat an eye when Myers got killed at the scene. “Ready my helicopter. I’ll be taking personal command on this one.”

* * *

It looked like it might rain soon.

The ruins were quiet. The first time Franks had been to this place, it had been a marsh. The next time he visited, the Americans had drained the swamp and built a rudimentary shipyard capable of tending the wooden warships of the day. The time after that, it had been an industrial marvel, servicing great metal beasts destined for battle in the greatest war in the history of the mortal world. Now there were stickers on the fence warning that it was a Superfund toxic site, and everything was slowly decaying back into the ground. Despite man’s industry, the swamp always won in the end.

Franks picked Myers out by the light of his cigarette. To his chemically treated eyes the glowing ash was a beacon. The senior MCB agent was picking his way slowly through the partially fallen walls navigating by the small bits of moonlight sneaking through the clouds. He was getting too old to blunder around in the dark. Myers passed beneath Franks’ perch. He could have called out and alerted Myers to his presence, but he wanted to be sure Myers hadn’t been shadowed. It was cold enough to be uncomfortable for a human, especially one who’d developed breathing problems because of his smoking habit, but Myers would have to wait until Franks was certain.

The shipyard covered a lot of ground. The newer section was still in use. This older portion was a maze of crumbling old buildings and rusting container cranes. It had been abandoned for years and had many escape routes. It was a good place for a clandestine meeting.

Myers walked for another thirty yards, trying not to trip on the weeds growing through the cracks in the asphalt. His memory was good though, because he stopped by the base of an old warehouse, only a few feet from where they’d taken down Don Francisco Asuncion Aramburzuzabala de Garza. Since that was a mouthful, and he had no respect for prideful undead, Franks had just called him Juan the whole investigation. They’d caught Juan here trying to sneak out of the country. The young agent had impressed Franks that night, so Franks had picked Myers to be his partner. They’d worked together off and on ever since.

Tonight, a much older Myers had known exactly when to show up, because that particular lich had only gone out during full moons. Tonight the moon was fat and white.

Franks was sitting in the second floor window of an old welding shop, dressed all in dark colors, invisible to anyone who wasn’t using thermal, NV, or eyes like his. He’d seen the headlights when Myers had parked his car. He’d not seen any other vehicles but he heard a noise from that direction. It might have been a gently closed car door.

It turned out that waiting had been the correct decision because Myers wasn’t alone. A few minutes later another man appeared following Myers’ path. This one was wearing a dark coat with a hood. Franks had a sound suppressor screwed onto the threaded barrel of his Glock. One bullet to the back of the head and this problem would go quietly away, except Franks was curious enough to see who it was before he killed him.

He sensed nothing else moving except for the wildlife that inevitably came to live in mankind’s abandoned places. Creeping along silently, the man passed almost directly beneath him. Franks stepped from the window and fell, landing in a crouch a few feet behind the watcher. He heard the noise and began to turn, but Franks had already engulfed him, wrapping one arm around the man’s neck and placing him in a choke hold. He was quick thinking enough to try and drop his chin to prevent the choke, but Franks was too strong for that, and flexing one massive bicep was enough to squeeze off most of the blood flow to the brain. The man reached for his side, where he probably had a weapon holstered, but Franks simply grabbed hold of his wrist. The man struggled. He was strong by human standards, but Franks was strong by monster standards. He placed his legs against the back of the man’s knee, breaking his stance and forcing him to drop back past his center of gravity, so the watcher’s own weight helped render him helpless. Franks held on for a few seconds waiting for the inevitable blackout. Once the man went limp, Franks kept squeezing for a few more seconds, just to make certain he was really out, and then lowered him to the ground.

He scanned for other threats. Rendering the man unconscious hadn’t made enough noise to alert Myers. Pulling the man’s hood back, Franks found a familiar face. It was the MCB rookie, Strayhorn. That was unexpected. Had Myers brought backup? He’d been told that the critically injured Strayhorn had gone missing from the hospital. It was puzzling, so he grabbed Strayhorn’s collar and dragged him through the weeds.

Myers saw the great hulking shadow approaching in the moonlight. “Franks? Is that you?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad to see you. Are you okay?” Then Myers noticed that Franks was dragging a body. “Who is that?”

“Your shadow.” Franks dropped Strayhorn in front of Myers’ wingtips.

Myers blanched. “Is he—” Then Strayhorn groaned as consciousness returned. “Oh, thank God.”

“Friend?”

“I told him to wait in the car.” Myers knelt next to Strayhorn. He smacked the barely conscious agent gently on the face. “Tom? Can you hear me? Tom?”

“He’ll be fine,” Franks said.

Strayhorn began coughing. His eyes popped open and there was that brief moment of terror and confusion as his faculties came fluttering back. He saw Myers first. “Dad?”

“Well . . .” Franks scowled at Myers. “Huh.”

“Yes, Franks, some of us have lives outside of the Bureau. I know that idea must perplex you.” Myers stood back up, and grunted as his knees popped. “This is my son.”

“Strayhorn?”

“He was a foster child,” Myers said quickly. “It’s a long story. Having a different name works though. Nobody likes to be accused of nepotism. Can you imagine the politics of being recruited by the MCB while your father is Acting Director?”

“No.”

Myers shook his head. “Of course you wouldn’t.”

The rookie was still lying there, now watching Franks with more than a little bit of trepidation. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I thought Unicorn killed you,” Franks stated.

“Dad warned me about Stricken’s tactics, so as soon as I could, I snuck out of the hospital. I’ve been hiding since then.”

Franks didn’t like that. He’d seen the rookie take a round. Humans didn’t just walk off gunshot wounds to the chest.

“It’s okay. I’ll explain later.” Myers must have sensed Franks’ unease. “We’ve got more important things to worry about now. Let it go, Franks. That’s an order.”

He supposed he wasn’t currently employed by the MCB, but old habits die hard. “Yes, sir.”

“The important thing is that Thomas saw multiple assailants and was with you at the beginning of the attack. He can corroborate your story.”

That made Franks a little happier he’d not just shot him in the head.

The rookie stood up and rubbed his sore neck. “I want to help take this bastard down.”

“You will. I’ve had a secret meeting with a few members of the Subcommittee. Most of them think I’m too biased. They say I’ve been
compromised
, as if Franks is that charming. But not all of them are fools. I’ve delivered your affidavit. We have to tread carefully. Stricken’s been laying the groundwork for a long time. I still don’t understand his end goal, but it appears he was far more prepared to take drastic measures than I ever expected. As soon as it is safe to bring you both in, your testimony should be enough to shut Stricken down.”

“That’s not good enough. He’ll weasel out of any trial. I want the son of a bitch dead. I want that albino bastard in the ground, him and his scumbags that shot up headquarters.
Dead.
That’s what I want to help with, anything less is bullshit.” Strayhorn spat.

The rookie was growing on him.

“Believe me, there’s nothing I’d enjoy more. Stricken’s a power-grabbing tyrant and this was his
Reichstag
fire. I’ve been focused on outside threats for so long that I didn’t realize the cancer that Unicorn had truly become. Attacking him directly will only feed into the narrative he’s created. Attacking those that support him will only make his hold stronger. I’m afraid Franks has given Stricken exactly what he wanted.” Myers turned to Franks. “Your little manifesto has moved the President to Stricken’s side. That rash action erased years of goodwill. That was idiotic. What were you thinking, threatening the President of the United States?”

“It wasn’t a threat.”

“Damn it, Franks! This isn’t a game. You scared them. In trying to halt the thing you hate most, you provided your opponent all the excuses he needed to make it happen. You are your own worst enemy.”

Franks had never been good at games, but it was unlike his superior to be this angry with him. By now Myers should have been used to Franks’ methods. “What happened?”

“The President has approved a test run of Project Nemesis.”

“Hmmm . . .” That meant Franks had a lot more people to kill. The to-do list just kept getting longer. “I warned him.”

“Those supersoldiers already exist. I saw Franks fight one of them, and it sure as hell wasn’t any normal man.” Strayhorn said as he got to his feet. “I’m betting I’m right.”

Franks nodded. “They were Nemesis.”

“We know that, but I need to be able to prove their existence to the government. We need to demonstrate that Stricken had already proceeded without permission and created these things—”

“Hold on.” Strayhorn said. “Why is that such a big deal anyway? Unicorn is lousy with monsters. What makes these things so special?”

“They are based on me,” Franks said.

“Yeah, but why is that bad?”

Franks didn’t answer. It was obvious to him, but The Deal had to remain a secret.

Myers tossed his cigarette and ground it out with his heel. “Any new living empty bodies created that are equal to or superior to Franks may end up being inhabited by powerful disembodied spirits . . . Specifically, they’ll be claimed by fallen angels from the dimension we traditionally think of as Hell.”

“What?”
How had Myers known that?
It was rare that anything bothered Franks, but that certainly did. “That’s
classified,”
he snarled.

“Not if you expect to stop this thing. I’d like to imagine that they never would have proceeded if they’d known what they were letting into the world. Nemesis was forbidden before, but the Commander in Chief just gave the go-ahead to make it official.”

“Then I’ll kill him too.”

“And all of the men that come after him? They’ll always be tempted. You can’t put the genie back in the bottle, Franks. Man can’t unlearn a technology, but he can understand the costs. You have to let them know what they’ve unleashed. As much as this pains me to say, for once the
truth
is our best weapon. We can’t keep your secret anymore. The cost of this particular secret has gotten too high.”

“How did you know about . . . me?”

Myers chuckled. “I figured it out on my own. I’m one of the world’s leading monster experts, remember? I’ve known for years, but I never said a thing. I felt I owed you that much. I thought I understood your reasoning. It is hard enough for you to be accepted as a monster, but if they knew what lived inside the monster, I can’t imagine what they would have done . . . Now I realize I should have told them the truth years ago, and it might have prevented all of this.”

“You never told me that!” Strayhorn was looking back and forth between them, totally bewildered.

“Why would he?” Franks asked.

“That means Franks is . . . You’re a . . .” Strayhorn seemed genuinely shaken as he whispered, “
a demon
. . .”

Franks glared at the rookie.
Why did it matter to him?
“Shut up.”

Luckily, he did. Strayhorn took a few nervous steps back.

“There’s more to it,” Franks warned.

“We’ve worked together for a very long time, old friend. You have risked your life to defend this nation countless times. It didn’t matter to me what you were before, because I know what you are now. I’ve seen the other things that have escaped from Hell, and you’re
nothing
like them.”

Franks lowered his head. He did not like having
emotions.

“I’ve got good men on the case. Stricken is a brilliant adversary, but he’s not perfect. He’s made mistakes and we will exploit them. You two are my eyewitnesses. I need you both to stay safe until we’re ready for you to testify. Once we have solid proof, we can proceed.”