“Put him on speaker,” Beth said, with just a hint of malicious glee. “I can stand my ground.”
Heather hit the call button. “This is a terrible idea.”
Earl picked up on the third ring. “Hey, Heather. What’s going on?”
“There’s something I needed to talk to you about.”
“Can I call you back?” From the background noise it sounded like he was in a moving car. “I’m kind of busy on a case right now.”
“You’re trying to find someone in Atlanta.”
“How’d you know? Wait . . . This personal, or business?”
“Hello, Mr. Harbinger,” said Beth. “You are on speaker.”
Earl was quiet for a moment. “Mrs. Flierl. To what do I owe this incredible annoyance? Let me guess, is this little thief I’m tracking one of your slaves?”
“No. She’s not one of mine, though I am very interested in speaking with her now. However, you need to get one thing straight. We’re under new management. I’m not like Stricken. My people are not slaves. They’re volunteers, willingly serving their country in exchange for the opportunity to earn their PUFF exemption.”
“Sure they are. I’ll be sure to pass that on to all my buddies who died in involuntary servitude while we were doing dirt for Uncle Sam . . . Dammit, Heather, it’s one thing for you to be soft-hearted enough to try and help their captives, but do not drag me back into their foolishness. I tried to warn you that you can’t trust these assholes. We can talk about this when you’re in Alabama again. I’m hanging up.”
“Wait, Earl, it’s important.”
Earl really must have loved Heather because he stuck around. “Damn it. Fine. Talk.”
“We’ve got Owen here. He’s safe.”
“Hey, Earl,” I said. “The government’s about to cut a deal with Stricken.”
“What?”
Heather covered her phone. “That’s not helping!”
“Have you people lost your gawdamned minds?” Earl bellowed. “That bastard let an entire hotel full of Hunters get sucked into nightmare world to justify a budget increase, and you’re cutting him a deal? What’s he get? Time served? Witness protection?”
“It’s complicated,” Heather said. “And it wasn’t our call. Stricken’s a bigger monster than any of the real monsters who worked for him, but there’s a lot going on I can’t tell you about yet. These are orders from on high. They think they need his expertise for something big. Just listen, please. It’s important. Did you catch the thief?”
“I don’t think I’d tell your boss even if I had.”
“What was Stricken trying to buy?”
“Sorry, babe. I ain’t saying nothing to Unicorn. So don’t even push, because me not answering will just piss us both off. If your boss wants anything else, she can get a warrant.”
Beth cut in. “There’s no time for that. Since I’m here at the MCB regional office with their director, how about instead I pressure him into yanking MHI’s charter, seizing your assets, and putting you out of business again?”
“Beth!” Heather exclaimed. “That’s not right!”
“No, but it will be necessary if Mr. Harbinger continues to put his pride ahead of the safety of this planet.”
“Oh, now you did it,” Heather warned her.
It was obvious that particular threat had really set Earl off. “Lady, who are you to judge the safety of jack shit? The guy who used to sit in your chair would’ve let loose a bunch of demons if it hadn’t been for Agent Franks having the balls to go to war with the entire government.”
I looked over at Franks as Earl said that, and I swear, maybe, just maybe, for a moment, Franks showed some small bit of pride at being recognized for that by someone like Harbinger. But then it was gone, and it was back to his regular old face of stone. I’d probably imagined it.
“Do you think I care about your threats right now? My people spent a year freezing our asses off north of the Arctic Circle fighting a horde of underground cannibal mutants, and I didn’t see shit for support from you people that whole time. Asag sent the thing that killed my son and kidnapped my blood, and I still don’t know who I’m more afraid of, the lunatic chaos god, or the ineptitude of my own fucking government. I’ll never understand why Heather decided to waste her time trying to save you fools from yourselves, but that’s her decision, not mine. Unicorn can bite my hairy ass. I’m calling your bluff, lady. You saw the body count stats from the last time MHI got shut down, and I don’t think you’re the kind of monster who wants that on her hands. Goodbye.”
That time he did hang up.
Well, that had certainly been uncomfortable for the rest of us.
Heather put her phone away. She was obviously not happy, but also not at all surprised. “I tried to warn you. This is a contentious subject for the two of us.”
“It was maybe a little obvious,” I said.
I’d also heard Earl vent about it several times. He thought the world revolved around Heather, but he hated her job with a passion and couldn’t for the life of him understand why she’d stick around and try to help the people who’d taken her away from him and forced her to serve on a black ops monster death squad. But then again, I’d also heard Heather lament about how Earl just didn’t understand that she wasn’t doing this for STFU, she was doing this because she saw herself in the other poor monsters who were trapped there, who hadn’t had someone like Earl to teach them how to control themselves enough to coexist with humanity. Basically, the whole situation sucked, and I didn’t have any answers, not that either of the stubborn werewolves would have listened to my advice anyway.
Beth didn’t care about any of that. She had a black ops monster death squad to run after all. “Don’t worry, Heather. Harbinger was right. I was bluffing. Rocky relationship with the authorities aside, MHI makes a difference. If Harbinger doesn’t want to cooperate, I’ll put my people on it. We’ll find the shapeshifter ourselves. Unless of course, you want to just make life easy for everyone and spill the beans, Pitt?”
“Sorry. I trust Earl’s judgment way more than you people.”
I hadn’t meant that reply as an insult to Heather. Honestly, I’d not even thought of it that way, but when I saw the look on her face, I could tell that she’d taken it personally, like I was saying she liked Unicorn more than her partner.
Before I could say anything else, the door opened and Mr. Coslow stuck his bald head in. “The paperwork is ready. This is a reminder to everyone that Stricken is not to be harmed or else there will be severe repercussions.” He looked pointedly at Franks, and then at Heather . . . and then back at Franks again for good measure. “Come with me, Mr. Pitt.”
* * *
We entered the interrogation room and Stricken scoffed when he saw me.
“When I made my list of demands, this sure wasn’t the Chosen I was expecting you to scrounge up, Harold.”
Harold must have been Coslow’s first name. “It meets the letter of the law,” the PUFF Adjuster said.
“Technically correct is the best kind of correct,” Stricken agreed. “Oh, well. A deal is a deal, but I was hoping for one of the smarter ones.”
Ten seconds in and I already wanted to kill him. No wonder they hadn’t sent Franks or one of the werewolves. “Oh, fuck off, Stricken. I forgot to bring my Mensa card to show you. I don’t want to be here either.”
He lifted his narrow hands and waved his spidery fingers so the chains would make a rattling noise. “I think I’ve got it worse.”
“And deservedly so. I will admit seeing you as a prisoner makes me smile.”
“If you’re still capable of smiling, then I take it Harold hasn’t told you what’s in my deal. You are going to be so disappointed when I leave here a free man. It turns out I’m too pretty for jail.”
“That’s okay. I figure as many powerful things as you’ve pissed off, something is bound to pop you sooner or later. You’re a dead man walking.”
“Yet I’m still walking o
ut of here. Like you’ve got room to talk about making powerful things angry though, Mr. I blew up the Dread Overlord and woke up Asag so he’ll kill us all.” Even in chains, Stricken was still acting like he was the one holding all the cards. “You know what? Never mind, Harold. I withdraw my objection. The living embodiment of Monster Hunter hubris will do perfectly for this. Welcome to the team, Pitt.”
“I am not on your team.”
“It’s like they say, Pitt: There is no I in team. But in my experience there are often a bunch of suckers who get themselves drafted.” Stricken nodded at Coslow. “He’ll do.”
“Good,” Coslow snapped. “I find mortal attempts at witty banter tiresome.”
Mortal? Stricken noticed my confusion and smirked, because as usual, he knew more about what was going on than I did. He didn’t even need to say anything to rub it in.
Mr. Coslow glanced around. With so many guards in the small room, it was really crowded. “All of you, wait outside.” Mortal, immortal, amortal, whatever he was, the MCB agents were obviously scared of Coslow and happy to leave. Once the last one closed the door behind him, Coslow said, “Let us proceed.”
I pulled up one of chairs on the opposite side of the table. Coslow took the other one. He moved with authority. It was all business as he opened his briefcase and pulled out a fat stack of papers. He dropped them in front of Stricken, and then placed a plain disposable pen on top. “Sign here.”
Stricken looked at the paperwork but didn’t touch it. Then he turned back to me. “Nice shirt.”
“I always need more rags for cleaning guns. Why am I here?”
“You’re here because I need someone to take care of something I probably won’t be able to now because of my current predicament. There aren’t that many people in the world who can actually make a difference at this point, and you’re the one Harold found, so now you’re getting stuck with a new assignment. We need to get on the same page and fast. Speaking of pages, seriously, nobody told you what’s in this agreement at all, did they? Because if they had, you’d probably be torqued. I’ve seen your work. Men like you are the reason they invented anger management classes.”
“These government types never tell me anything.”
“Well, I’ve certainly been guilty of that myself at times. At STFU we used to call our assets mushrooms, because we kept them in the dark and fed them shit.” He looked past me to his reflection in the mirror. “Hey, Red. If you’re listening, screwing you over was nothing personal.”
“Time is of the essence, Mr. Stricken,” Coslow said, annoyed. “Read over it if you must, but your demands are all there. We need to proceed.”
“Hold your horses, Harold. I get to talk to Owen here in private first.”
“Very well.” Despite his decrepit appearance, the PUFF Adjuster didn’t stand up like an old man. There were no arthritic winces or creaking knees. “You have ten minutes.” Coslow walked to the door, knocked, and one of the MCB agents let him out.
Stricken watched him go. “Amazing. You don’t even know what our illustrious adjuster really is, do you?”
“I’m sure he’s some malevolent or ambivalent supernatural something or other, either working for or loosely allied with the stupid Feds.”
“That’s remarkably close actually. You want me to tell you the juicy details about old Coslow?”
“Is this the sort of thing that if I know, it’ll probably put my life in danger because some other shadow government douchebag decides”—I made quote marks with my fingers—“I know too much?”
“Well, obviously. But learning the mysteries, how things really tick, what’s really happening, that’s half the fun of this life. Knowledge is power.” Stricken reached out and tapped the signature sheet. “This agreement is a perfect example that if you know the right things, and you offer those things to the right people at the right time, you can literally get away with murder.”
“Like how you murdered Myers?”
“Are you trying to get Franks to shoot me through the glass? I actually respected Dwayne a lot, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made.”
“Gee whiz. I can’t imagine why they sent me in here instead of Franks.”
Stricken leaned back in his chair and grinned. “Yeah, that pile of parts can certainly hold a grudge. Now, onto business. I wasn’t just blowing smoke about this agreement. I need you to know what’s in it, what they’re willing to offer, despite my multitude of crimes and my troubled past because it will demonstrate a few things.” He began to tick them off on his long fingers. “One, just how desperate they really are. Two, that what I’m about to tell you is the real deal. And three, that as bad as you think I am, what I’ve done has actually been for the greater good.”
“I seem to recall Martin Hood telling me something about the greater good once, and how his conquering mankind was really doing us a favor, because the Old Ones doing it would be so much worse.”
“Marty was delusional, but he wasn’t entirely wrong either. But no, this is different. I’m not trying to hand the Earth over on a silver platter to one cosmic tyrant or another in exchange for a more merciful brand of slavery. War’s coming. You know it. I know it. Only, unlike Marty, I’m not big on surrender. I don’t want man to just survive. I’m in it to fucking win it. I want to destroy these things so badly it sends a message across the galaxy that mankind is not to be trifled with ever again. I know you feel the same way. So while everybody else gets squeamish, it’s time for men like us to rise to the occasion and do what’s necessary.”
I looked over the gaunt figure and scoffed. “We’re nothing alike.”
“You keep telling yourself that, Owen. But I know what you’ve done, the calls you’ve had to make, and the people you’ve left behind to do it.” My face must have betrayed my reaction at that, because Stricken immediately followed with, “Oh, don’t get mad at me. I say that as a compliment. When it really counts, you put the mission first. That’s an admirable trait.”
“If you’re admiring me, I need to reexamine my life choices.”
“It’s one trait of many. Don’t worry. I think the rest of you is garbage. Why one of the factions picked you as their champion, I’ll never be able to fathom. You’re too merciful. You’re too forgiving. You’re too soft. You’ve got the capacity to be effective, but you let human frailty hold you back.”
He could spare me the moral sanctimony. “Says the asshole who has had a few of his insane plots spiral out of control, like those things you created trying to copy Franks. Get to the point, Whitey.”
“That’s hurtful.” Stricken feigned being wounded. “You know how I wound up like this, Pitt? I used to be healthy, fit like you wouldn’t believe. I waltzed through Ranger School. I could run a marathon every weekend after banging hot chicks all week. I was one good-looking dude. But you know what happened to me?”
“Whatever you tell me will probably be a lie anyway.”
“That’s fair. But cross my heart, hand on a Bible, this is the truth.”
I had a sneaky suspicion that if Stricken actually touched a Bible, it would burn his hand. “I was guessing the whole sickly pallor thing, and your trying-too-hard codename, was because you sold your soul and now you’re cursed for it.”
“Actually, that’s not too far off.” Stricken paused. “Let’s never mind the details then. The important thing isn’t the how, or the who, it’s the why. I did this to myself. I was willing to sacrifice my life, my health, some pussies would say my humanity, all that jazz, and I gave it up without hesitation in order to save the world.”
“You saved the world?” I tried not to let my voice drip with incredulity. I probably failed.
“I did. What? You think you’re the first or only person who’s ever done that? Different type of threat than yours, but this shit happens all the time. Join the fucking club. We have a newsletter. Only when I did it, it left my body ruined. It turned me into this, a husk of the man I once was, while your lucky ass got a tune-up from
the Old Ones, which is pretty unfair if you ask me. But that’s neither here nor there. I got started down this path because there were things that needed doing, but far too often the men in charge have the spine of a pool noodle. If we wait around for the powers that be to solve the problem, we’re all doomed. Asag might not be as big and flashy as what we’ve seen before, but he’s far more clever, willing to play the long game, and that makes him far more of a threat.”
I couldn’t actually disagree with that take but agreeing with the likes of Stricken about anything made me feel icky, so I looked at the wall clock. “You’ve got a few minutes left. Get to the point.”
“The point is, I never stopped doing what needed doing. Sometimes that means taking risks, which leads to unfortunate accidents like the aforementioned demonic super soldiers. Whoops. My bad. Can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.”
He was so flippant about that incident, I was a little surprised Franks didn’t walk in and strangle him to death. “That’s one hell of an omelet.”
“My action hero days are in the distant past, but I was smart. I could see things coming that nobody else could. Eventually I ended up in charge of the Task Force, which for someone like me, was Christmas morning. All those wonderful toys.” For a moment, Stricken seemed positively gleeful reminiscing about his old job. “Running STFU was awesome. Though some unfortunate decisions were made and I lost my job, I’ve still kept doing what needed doing.”
“What’s that exactly?”
“Preparing the way for you Chosen folks to get the job done when the time comes. I’ve been gathering intel, laying the groundwork for future operations, stockpiling the special weapons mankind will need in order to beat this chaotic fuckstick, and most importantly of all, building alliances.”
I had to admit, my curiosity was piqued. “Where are these weapons?”
“Someplace safe.”
“What kind of alliances?”
“Asag eventually wants to tear apart the entire universe down to the molecular level, which is generally frowned upon by everything that lives here. You’d be surprised some of the groups that are willing to fight him, or maybe not. You’ve met a few of them.”
Monster Hunter Bloodlines Page 7
