“You mean our spot?” She tied her hair back in a ponytail. Looking around, she said, “You know, I actually do. I could make this work for a while. I mean, we have space and some land. A nice garage for my car.”
“Heh-heh, I see adding a new bay in my future.”
“Not as far as I’m concerned.”
Picking up the remote, Smoke turned off the television. “So, are you ready to get back at it?”
“Yep.”
“And you’ve called your folks and everyone is a-okay?”
“Mom’s begging us to come by for dinner, which is a good sign that things are normal. I promised her we’d be out in the next few days. But I just have to get back into the swing of things.” She picked up a sheet of paper on the desk. It was a mug shot of a rough-looking woman with scraggly red hair and prison tats up to her neck. “This is a five-thousand-dollar mark, Annie Wilkins. It’s time to hunt her down and scoop her up. The electricity in this place doesn’t pay for itself.”
Rising from the couch, Smoke said, “It will once I install a windmill.”
“Sounds like Senator Wilhelm’s got you convinced.”
Smoke pulled his boots on and laced them up. “I think a windmill on top of the Washington Monument is a great idea. Doesn’t everybody?”
“Shut up.” She walked over and kissed him. “That’s better.”
Smoke patted her on the rear, walked away, and fetched his knives and guns. “Let’s catch this cat.”
“After you.”
Outside, Smoke stood in front of his Camaro, frowning. It had been a good car. Cheap. Easy to fix and modify. Now it was totaled.
Getting into the Hellcat, Sid said, “We’ll find you another one. There are junkyards all over this place. You’ll have dozens to choose from.”
Cheerfully, he said, “I hope so. This would be a great home for all of them.”
“No, I don’t think so. You’re a married man now. You need something a little more respectable.” She rubbed the dash of the Dodge. “A nice Dodge, perhaps.”
“You mean one like Al Bundy had? I could go for that.”
Dropping the car into drive and pulling out, she said, “I was thinking a Dodge Caravan. It’s just perfect for a family man.”
“Family?”
“Eventually. You’ll make a great stay-at-home daddy while I go out and do all the hunting.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Sid tossed her head back and laughed. “Oh come on, you can’t possibly agree with that!”
“Then I disagree vehemently. I hunt. You stay home with the babies. I insist.”
“Now I like that.” Grinning, she turned up the radio. “That’s my kind of sweet talk.”
Smoke’s phone buzzed in his jeans pocket. He plucked it out just as Sid was picking up hers. At the same time, they both read, “BS. My office. Now. Cyrus.”
“I’m guessing that means Black Slate,” Sid said.
“Yeah, but it’s still BS. Are we going?”
“So far as I know, I’m still a liaison. I’m not aware of any changes in my status since I’ve been gone.”
Smoke glanced at the crinkles on her forehead. “Are you sure you want to dive back into this?”
“Yes. Besides, you know you want to.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I do.”
***
“Hi, Jane,” Sid said to Ted Howard’s old secretary, who now worked for Section Chief Cyrus Tweel. “We’re here to see Cyrus.”
“Congratulations, Sidney,” Jane said, squirming in her seat and giving Sid a little smirk. Eyeing Smoke, she added, “You two make a handsome couple. A very handsome couple. Just have a seat and I’ll buzz the chief. He’s been wound up pretty tight lately.”
Smoke sat beside Sid in the padded office chairs. Just as he sat down, Sid’s best friend Sadie appeared from behind the cubicle. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree.
“Well look who’s back from the honeymoon!” Sadie grabbed Sid and hugged her. “Oh, you look great, just great! And you looked so beautiful at your wedding, in case I didn’t tell you.”
“You did, too,” Sid said, unlocking from the long embrace.
“And you, mister?” Sadie gave Smoke a big hug and kiss. “You were something else yourself. Damn, look at you two with your tan on. It looks good! Real good! Now listen, me and Alex want you two to come over for dinner.” She wagged her finger in Sid’s face. “It better happen within thirty days, or you’re dead to me. Now, it’s been fun catching up, but I gotta go. A bunch of big shots need their TPS reports.” She hugged Smoke and Sid again. “Bye, sugars.”
“You can go in now,” Jane said, pressing something on her desk. The red light on the security door turned to green. “Don’t just stand there. Get moving before it turns red again.”
“Really?” Sid said. “A mag lock on his office door?”
“You shouldn’t be surprised. I’m just glad I’m on the outside. You don’t want to get locked inside with him.” Jane waved. “Have fun.”
The door closed softly behind them and then locked with an ominous click. Cyrus was sitting in his chair, white oxford shirtsleeves rolled up and round wire rim glasses down on the bridge of his nose. “Well, if it isn’t the newlyweds. Thanks for the wedding invitation, by the way.”
“It was spur of the moment, and I didn’t think you’d be interested,” Sid replied.
“Oh, I wasn’t interested, but I at least expected some courtesy. You invited Sadie, and I’m pretty sure if Ted were still here, you would’ve invited him too.” With a long frown that seemed to fill his entire face, he pointed at the chairs. “Have a seat!”
CHAPTER 24
Remaining standing, Smoke said, “What’s with the attitude?”
“I’m sorry,” Cyrus said, “am I being impolite? Let me rephrase it in such a manner that might make you a little more comfortable. Sit your ass down.”
Smoke said to Sid, “Let’s go.”
“Agreed. Have a nice day, Cyrus.”
Smoke was the first person to the door. He tugged the handle, but it was locked. He turned toward Cyrus. “You might want to open this. Now.”
Hands up in front of his chest, Cyrus said, “Look, Sid and Smoke, you aren’t going anywhere. The truth is, you’re here because you’re needed, and I’m up to my eyeballs in boiling water.” He pulled out a file from a desk drawer and tossed it over into one of the guest chairs. “Just take a look. Please.”
“Am I still acting under the capacity of a special liaison?” Sid asked.
“You’re still getting a check, aren’t you?’
“I am.”
“Well, you’re still on board then.” Cyrus flopped into his chair and produced a prescription bottle from the top drawer of his desk. He took out a pill and swallowed it down. “Yeah, never needed any medication before I took this gig. Now my hair’s thinning and my skinny ass has lost another 10 pounds. I thought I’d get fatter with a gig like this.”
“You should eat more.” Smoke picked up the manila envelope and sat down in the chair.
Exasperated, Cyrus said, “Who has time to eat?”
The file was filled with a dozen pictures. Smoke split the stack and handed half of them to Sid. Each picture depicted another part of the same gory scene: a battlefield of dead bodies in a parking lot covered in blood, guts, and gore. Heads were missing from shoulders. Limbs were torn apart. A man appeared to be gored through the neck, and another person looked to be clawed to death.
“Geez,” Sidney said with her face drawn up in horror. “Who are these people? When did this happen? What killed them?”
“Oh, I don’t know—deaders, shifters, clones? You tell me, Sid.” Cyrus’s forehead was sweating. “Well, that’s not entirely true. We processed and fingerprinted all of them. Do you remember Senator Randolph of Maryland?”
“No,” Sid said.
“Oh, oh, of course you don’t. You want to know why?” Cyrus rapidly tapped his knuckles on the desk. “I’ll t
ell you why. He’s been dead for fifty years. Yeah, fifty years. You know what happened when he showed up as a murder suspect in the system? I’ll tell you what. DC went off! Somehow that little tidbit of information slipped through the cracks and found its way into the heart of this country’s leadership. And that axe is falling on me. Senator Wilhelm was in here grilling me with questions. Try telling that jerk what he doesn’t want to hear.”
Still sorting through the pictures, Sid asked, “What are you so mad at us for?”
“Because I’ve been waiting on you two idiots to come back from your honeymoon, that’s what.”
“Take a breath, Cyrus,” Sid said, mocking a little. “We’re here now, so everything’s going to be okay.”
“Ha-hah, funny.”
Cyrus kept talking, and Smoke continued with the study of the pictures, one by one. The men weren’t FBI agents or any segment of law enforcement. No, they were something else. Men he’d met before. All of the dead men were wearing goggles. They were Uncle Earl’s men, and the picture he was looking at was Uncle Earl’s severed head.
“John, are you all right?” Sid said.
He handed her the picture of Uncle Earl.
“Aw, geez, I’m sorry,” she said.
“What? What?” Cyrus said.
Sid placed the picture on his desk.
Cyrus picked it up and curled his lips. “Ew, friend of yours?”
“Where’s the body?” Smoke asked, ignoring Cyrus’s question.
“So far as I know, they’ve all been processed and identified by family. Look, this was one of those hush-hush deals that didn’t make the papers,” Cyrus continued. “You know that. It’s got the Black Slate all over it. And this operation of these goggled goons? The FBI’s never even heard of them. They’re some mercenary company from here in the U.S. that has set up shop here.” He scratched his head. “It’s just been a huge mess.”
“You make it sound like all this is our fault,” Sid said.
“Is it your fault? No. But despite the leadership’s urgings to get to the bottom of this, I’m not being given any more people.” Cyrus gulped down some bottled water. “Sure, there’s plenty of money for windmills by the sea, but nothing extra to help us prevent massacres and tragedy. Idiots. So that leaves me with you two.”
“Both of us?” Sid said, thumbing between her and Smoke. “You don’t get two for the price of one.”
“Oh, I figure I could,” Cyrus replied. “I’m certain your loyal hound of a husband will be wherever you go. But yes, we’ll put him on the payroll.”
“I don’t want to be on your payroll,” Smoke commented.
“Oh, is that so? Well I’ll just dump the money in my bank account then. How does that sound?” Cyrus said.
“Just give us the paperwork,” said Sid. “We’ll put it in my account.”
Cyrus stood up. “Listen, I need results this week. I have to have them. Today is Monday, and I need something solid before Friday morning.” He opened up another drawer and produced a black folder. “Your old pal Leroy Sullivan dropped this off. It’s a lead filled with another freak. There are details in this about the other incident that went down. Just find out who’s behind it. Maybe it’s the Drake, and maybe it isn’t, but I have to know before Wilhelm comes back.” He rubbed his temples. “Man, what I wouldn’t do for some sick leave right now.”
“See you, Cyrus.” Sidney said, picking up the file. “And try to smile. It does wonders for a headache.”
“Friday, Sidney. Friday or else.”
CHAPTER 25
Smoke was reading and Sid was driving. Inside the Black Slate file was the dossier of another person of interest. Smoke’s eyes drifted over the notes and ledgers. There were pictures of odd places, too. Cemeteries, morgues, funeral homes, and mortuaries. There were strange groups of people congregated in all of those locations too. There was an air about them. A darkness in their eyes. Evil without expression.
“You’re being awfully quiet over there.” Sid’s hands graced the steering wheel like a ballerina’s feet graced the floor. The car seemed to move like a panther in the weeds as she maneuvered effortlessly through the traffic. Her fingers glided over the wheel when she turned. “Look, it’s okay if you aren’t all right about what happened to Uncle Earl. I guess you had some sort of closeness with him.”
“I was as close to him as any other man I know. He pushed me. Tested me. But I respected him for it. Even though I was young, I got what he was doing. But he never had to do it. I think it was because he saw something I didn’t.” Smoke’s heart was heavy and aching inside. He felt like what had happened was on account of him. “Perhaps I should have taken him up on his offer. Maybe he’d be alive today.”
“You know we can’t go down into the valley of blaming ourselves, Smoke.”
He nodded. “I’ve noticed you’re calling me Smoke a lot more lately.”
“Am I?” She switched lanes and accelerated by a pair of J.B. Hunt rigs. “Huh.”
“That’s it? Huh?”
“Okay, John, I kinda like calling you Smoke, and I figure maybe when we’re working, it’ll keep things more professional so I don’t lose focus. When we’re at home, it can be more personal. Does that make sense?”
“It does, and it’s just fine by me—not that you were asking my permission.” He closed the Black Slate file but left the rap sheet out. “You’re a Smoke too now, you know.”
With a wide and playful smile on her face, she said, “I am, aren’t I!”
“Yup.”
“So,” she said, “what do you have?”
Smoke held the rap sheet up and started to read. “His name is Titus Tolliver. He’s a runt of a man that looks as ornery as a hungry hog. Like Guppy, he’s built like an elephant’s leg. Hangs out with a weird crowd at mausoleums and funeral parlors.”
“Creepy.”
“Yeah. Well, I suppose that comes with the territory of being a mortician, hm?”
“What?”
“We’ve got names and several locations. I’m going to have Sam and Guppy take a look and see if they can find some ties to the Drake.” He took out his phone. “It’s best we exercise some caution.” He typed some names into the phone and hit send. “That should do it.”
“Don’t you think Sam needs to know about Uncle Earl?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’ll let her know next time we actually sit down with them. She’s not going to take it well. She was pretty big buds with Earl.”
“I see. So, are you still dead set on seeing the scene of the crime? I’m certain the FBI’s already done a cleanup.”
“I want to go. These pictures don’t tell the entire story.”
About twenty minutes later they arrived at a business park filled with empty parking spots. A small two story white block building with endless windows was surrounded by a yellow construction fence with “Do Not Enter” and “FBI” signs all over it.
Sid pulled alongside the fence and put the car in park. “Let’s go.”
It was a hot and breezy day. Smoke put on his sunglasses and found a gap in the fence and pushed it open. Seeing Sid through, he said, “I guess they aren’t too worried about security.”
“You’d think they’d have guards posted out here or something,” she said. “I guess they just don’t have the manpower for it.”
Smoke made his way over to a lamppost mounted on a small cement island that was overgrown with weeds. There was blood smeared on the blacktop and on the yellow paint that trimmed the lamppost island. The lamppost had a huge notch in the metal, like it had been hit with a sword. Smoke fished his hands through the weeds and found an object of interest: green bug-eyed goggles. One lens was cracked and the other one was bloody. There was also a 40-caliber brass casing in the grass.
About twenty yards away, Sid said, “Find anything?”
“Just some sloppy cleanup, but confirmation that something did indeed go down here.”
Sid replied, “You mean all the blood stai
ns baked on the blacktop weren’t enough?”
“Ha-hah. I suppose I like to be a little more thorough.”
“Look at that,” Sid said, pointing at another lamppost closer to the building.
The metal post was bent over at the bottom as if a car had rammed into it. Smoke made his way over to the post and eyed it up and down. He ran his hands along the bend in the metal. “It’s warped, but it doesn’t look like anything hit it.”
Sid knelt down and pushed the grasses aside. Giving the base a close inspection, she said, “It’s come loose at the base. The metal snapped clean through the bolts in one place, and that’s why it’s leaning to.” Glancing up at Smoke, she said, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Giants.”
Standing back up, Sid said, “Let’s hope just one giant. What do you think was so important in this building? It looks like it’s been abandoned for quite some time. I mean, do you think they just met up to do battle? Or were Uncle Earl and the gang launching an assault at whatever was inside?”
“I guess we need to take a look-see.” Smoke extended his hand toward the building. “After you.”
Sid hadn’t taken more than two steps when the high throttle of engines caught Smoke’s ears. He turned. Three black pickup trucks were racing into the business park, headed toward the construction fence. In the truck beds were men in black hoods. The trucks blasted through the fence and skidded to a halt. The hooded warriors rambled out. Their eyes had a red glow to them. They moved fast but were stiff.
CHAPTER 26
“Dammit! Deaders!” yelled Sid.
Backing quickly toward the building, Smoke said, “How do you know?”
“If you’ve seen one deader, you’ve seen them all!” Sid’s guns were out, and she started firing shot after shot. The bullets ripped into the deaders, but they kept coming. “Body armor!”
Among the stiff-gaited deaders were a handful of others whose movement was more fluid, and they had shotguns in their hands. They took a knee and started firing from behind the ranks of the deaders.
The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files: Special Edition Fantasy Bundle, Books 6 thru 10 (Smoke Special Edition Book 2) Page 21
