“Thank God. What is it?”
“I’ve been looking into Mr. Everard. You remember, our second possible host.”
“I remember.” Elsie waved her hand. “What about him?”
“Biomne conducts blood testing through one of our subsidiaries.”
“Yes. The Sanscreen acquisition. Last year, wasn’t it?”
“The year before. I put out feelers through our contacts. The usual channels. A doctor, Barnaby Phillips, issued some blood work.”
“Why is this significant?”
“The good Dr. Phillips is Valentine Everard’s personal physician.” Sam held out a piece of paper to Elsie. It was full of numbers with some charts. “The preliminary blood work.”
She scanned the page. “My God. It’s true. Has this gone back to the doctor?”
“Ms. Morgan … Elsie.” Sam sighed. “It’s going to be hard to keep a lid on this. It hasn’t gone back to Phillips, but we can’t be sure what he knows. You know what this means.”
“Can we get the blood work?”
“It’s done. It’s in the lab downstairs.”
“What do they say?”
“Mr. Everard is an otherwise healthy man. Perfect health, I’d say. Which is odd — his results are good for someone with an alcohol problem. Exceptional, even.”
“That’s promising. Can we use it?”
“We’ve identified a retrovirus in the blood work.” Sam looked down. “It matches the original sample we extracted from Russia. But it’s completely inactive.”
“Inactive? What do you mean?”
“It’s dead.” Sam rocked back on his feet. “It gives us another channel of acquisition though.”
“How so?”
“We can try to clone the virus, but that path has been a bit unreliable to date.” Sam turned towards the window. “I have an idea, but we’ll need to talk it through with Captain Spencer. There must be some kind of cofactor involved.”
“I’ve thought the same thing. It’s why we need Volk — we need to biopsy living tissue.” Elsie thought for a moment. “You want a tactical mix of Ebonlake and Sanscreen. How?”
“I’ve taken the liberty of calling in Captain Spencer. He’s waiting outside.”
“His operation is finished?”
“Finished? That’s a good word for it.” Sam gestured towards the door. “If I may?”
Elsie waved her hand at the door. “Of course.”
Barnes opened the door, leaning out. Spencer followed him back in, walking with a limp.
“Captain Spencer.”
“Ma’am.” Spencer stood with his back straight. “Ma’am, our mission was unsuccessful.”
“Captain, I’d like us to put that aside for the moment. Sam wants to talk something through.”
Spencer’s eyes shifted sideways to look at Barnes. “Of course, ma’am.”
Barnes walked up to the table, leaning a hand on the back of one of the chairs. “Captain, I have an idea for a potentially lower risk scenario, but I need to talk it through with you. Military tactics are not my specialty.”
“I’ll help where I can. Sir.”
“Excellent. Mr. Everard has a family doctor, and he recently had blood drawn. No, please don’t interrupt. What I’m thinking is that we tell the doctor that the blood turned up extremely poor liver function. That should pull Mr. Everard in for a biopsy. After Mr. Everard leaves, your team moves in and extracts the, ahem, fresh sample.”
Spencer thought this through for a few moments. “The plan is sound. If I can suggest just a few amendments?”
“It’s your ball game.”
“Sir.” Spencer nodded at him, then winced and rubbed his neck.
“Rough day?”
“Sir.” Spencer thought for a moment. “So far, the targets have been resilient to normal means of acquisition. Having said that, I don’t think we should abandon traditional approaches just yet. In our most recent operation, I witnessed the efficacy of silver against our targets.”
Elsie’s breath hissed in. “Captain! Silver is—”
Spencer held up a hand. “Ma’am. It wasn’t one of our team — a civilian was caught up in the live situation. As we hoped, both Everard and Volk were at the hospital. There were two companions with Mr. Everard. These two friends of his are unknown to us at this time. However, one of them managed to temporarily acquire the use of one of our weapons and silver rounds. He executed an assault against Volk, and to my eye scored a number of direct hits.”
Elsie leaned forward. “Was Volk killed?”
“No ma’am. However, the silver rounds caused him considerable pain. I believe that silver is a viable suppressant method.”
“Suppressant?” Barnes rubbed his chin. “How so?”
“Sir. Silver appears to work on them as ordinary bullets do on us. The use of silver weapons should be sufficient to … I believe they can be weakened. And then captured. My recommendations are to split the team into two. One team extracts the sample. The other team — with silver rounds — acquires the target outside after he’s given his sample.”
Sam nodded. “It sounds robust to me. Doubles our chances.” He looked to Elsie.
She turned her chair to look back out the window. “He won’t be killed?”
There was a pause from Spencer. “Ma’am. No.”
“You’re certain of this?”
“Ma’am. No.” She could hear Spencer’s wheezing. Was the man motivated by more than the money now? “But I believe it’s the best solution for a successful acquisition. Ma’am.”
She turned her chair back around. “Captain. Your judgment hasn’t been clouded in this matter?”
Spencer’s expression didn’t change, staring at her with those dead eyes. “No. I just want to get the job done, ma’am.”
Elsie studied his face, then looked back at Barnes. “See to it.”
Barnes nodded at Spencer. “Of course. Captain, if I can take this offline with you? Firm up the details? It would be most useful to get Sanscreen correctly aligned on this.”
Spencer looked at him, then back to Elsie. “Ma’am. Sir. I have just one question.”
Elsie nodded. “What is it?”
“How are we handling information leaks?”
“Leaks?”
“The operation is going to be in daylight. Our team will be seen. There will be witnesses.”
Elsie leaned forward. “Captain. I trust to your discretion. I don’t need the details. But I need silence.”
The captain nodded. “I’ll arrange it.”
Elsie looked at the door after the two of them had left. She checked her phone, looking for her appointment with the head of HR. She still had a few hours. She could fit in a light lunch. And some essential maintenance — she hadn’t had time for her facial this week. She nodded to herself — it was important to make time for the little things.
This was going to be a busy week.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
It was the smell of bacon that brought her around. It wasn’t the charred smell of bacon cooked too quickly in a greasy spoon place, but the gentler smell of honeyed bacon cooked slow and steady. She wasn’t ready to open her eyes yet, but the images of that bacon — served with eggs, toast, and a good strong coffee — brought her around faster than she would have wanted. It was Sunday, after all. Sundays were for sleeping in. Max always made her bacon and eggs on a Sunday.
Her eyes snapped open. It wasn’t Sunday at all, and Max was gone.
Danny threw the covers off the bed, and shuffled around the small room in search of a robe. She shrugged her shoulders into one, finding some discarded underwear — God, are these even clean? — to bring about a semblance of decency. She looked at herself in the mirror set in the back of the door, her last minute check spot for the mornings. The marks of not enough sleep stared back at her: bleary, bloodshot eyes. Disheveled hair.
Morning glamour at its best. She held her hand up in front of her mouth and huffed twice, then wrinkled her nose. She wasn�
�t going to be kissing anyone anytime soon. First stop out of the bedroom was the bathroom — the call of nature vying with the call for a quick gargle of Listerine.
She heard voices as she walked towards the smell of bacon. A child’s voice — Adalia, the smile starting on her face, and a man’s voice — Valentine. Her smile broadened. Adalia chattered at her usual rate, dominating the conversation. Whatever they were talking about was muffled by the closed door leading into the lounge-kitchen area. Danny leaned her forehead against the door, listening. It’d been a long time since she’d heard Adalia talking like that. It’d been a long time since she’d been woken by the smell of bacon. Her hand rested on the handle.
It’s been a long damn time since you let a man stay here. Danny pushed the door open.
“Mommy!” Adalia’s yell was accompanied by a mad rush as she darted from the chair to run full on into a hug.
Danny scooped her up. “Ugh. You’re getting a bit big for this.” She looked around the room, eyes going first to — Valentine — the kitchen, then the kitchen table. Scrap paper and felt pens covered it, artwork in various stages of completion. Lastly, she looked at the gurney, so out of place in her lounge.
Carlisle was awake, the gurney propped up so she could look at the room. She was pale, but holding a cup of coffee. A smile flitted across her face for a moment, before she took another sip of her coffee.
“Morning.” Val took a step forward, then stopped. “Shit. Wait.” He fumbled in the kitchen for a few moments, then walked towards her. He held something out to her, affecting a bad Eastern European accent. “How much for the little girl? I have coffee to barter.”
She laughed. “You can have her. I just want the coffee.” She took the cup from him, popping Adalia down, who ran back to the table. “God damn. This is good.”
Adalia pointed at a jar on the bench. “Ten cents.”
“For saying ‘God damn?’” She took another sip. “What does Valentine get for saying ‘shit?’”
“That’s twenty cents now! You just said another bad word. Anyway, he’s making breakfast. He said if he had to pay, I wouldn’t get any bacon.”
Val nodded, his back to them, as he spooned some batter into the waffle iron. “True story. It all started when I found you were out of bacon.”
“We’re having waffles?” Danny watched Val as he moved about the kitchen.
The back of Val’s head nodded. “Yeah. I figured it was a safe option because you had a waffle iron.”
“We’ll get you a detective’s job yet, Everard.” Carlisle’s voice was hoarse but steady. She looked at Danny, and held out a hand. “I’m Melissa Carlisle.”
Danny walked over and shook her hand. “Danielle Kendrick. Or just Danny. How are you feeling?”
“Hungry. I insisted on the bacon.” Carlisle took another sip of her coffee. “Also, I feel like I’ve been shot.”
“You were. Shot, I mean.”
“Yeah.”
“Uh. Valentine said you’re a cop? A police officer, I mean.”
“I’m off duty. You don’t have to hide your dope.”
“I. I mean. That isn’t.” Danny looked at Adalia. “I don’t keep anything like that in the house.”
That weak smile surfaced again. “No shit. You don’t have muffins or chocolate either. Munchies’d be hell without those.”
Danny sat down on the couch. “This must seem weird to you.”
Carlisle shuffled herself around in the gurney, wincing a bit. “What do you mean?”
“You didn’t wake up in a hospital.”
“I wasn’t sure I was going to wake up at all.” Carlisle nodded at Val’s back. “I probably wouldn’t have, if it wasn’t for Everard.”
Danny sipped at her coffee. It really was good. “I’m sorry for the state of the place.”
Carlisle’s hand reached out, covering hers. “Oh. No. You don’t have anything to apologize for. You’ve … well.” She looked over at Adalia. “Everard said you offered your place. Last night. Thank you.”
Danny sighed. “There wasn’t anywhere else.”
“Sure there was. Anywhere your little girl wasn’t would have been okay.”
“You’ve got kids?”
Carlisle shook her head. “No. It’s not my thing.”
“After yesterday … I needed to be here, Melissa. To make sure she was okay.”
“Yeah.” Carlisle sipped her coffee. “What’s he put in this to make it so good? It’s unholy.”
Val’s voice came out from the kitchen. “A little of this, a little of that.”
Danny smiled. “Cinnamon. Chocolate.” She sipped again. “Cream.”
Carlisle stared into her cup. “That seems like hard work. How do you know?”
“It’s how I make it too.”
Carlisle nodded. “He’s quite the chef. I’ve been waiting for my breakfast. The smell is killing me faster than the internal bleeding.”
“It … it does smell really good.”
Carlisle sat quietly for a moment. “Not too bad for a job for a wanted felon.”
“I can hear you guys. I’m right here.” Val carefully teased the waffle iron open, then tossed the hot waffle from hand to hand before slapping it on a stack already in the warming drawer of the oven.
“It’s on the news.” Carlisle nodded at the TV, the picture playing but the sound off. “Apparently I’m dead. That’s … news to me.”
Danny looked Carlisle up and down. “That’s very sad. Did they find the body?”
“Beats me.” Carlisle rummaged among the blankets in the gurney, and pulled out a phone. “My partner’s still not getting back to me.”
“Your partner?”
“Vince. Lost him at the station, when…” She looked at Val’s back, then at Adalia who was still coloring in her pictures. “Anyway. I haven’t heard from him.”
“Is that unusual?”
“Very. He’s not original, but he’s reliable.” Carlisle thought for a moment. “I last saw him going over some evidence. Footage from a murder we’re working on.”
“Is that how you know Valentine? Is he, uh—”
“Everard?” Carlisle snorted. “Everard’s clean. He was a person of interest for a while, but we’ve squared that away. Mix up at the lab.”
Danny let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “So what now?”
Carlisle looked at her. “First order of business is breakfast. We just need—”
There was a knock at the door. Val wiped his hands on his apron — it’s a secure man who wears a Little Mermaid apron, thought Danny — and said, “That’ll be John.”
Danny stood up. “I’ll get it.”
“No, it’s good. Sit. Enjoy your coffee.” Val walked down the hall.
Danny sat back. “I don’t often get waited on in my kitchen.”
“No Mr. Kendrick?” Carlisle held up a hand. “Sorry. That was a bit forward. I’m used to asking questions. Part of the job.”
“It’s okay. Her father’s still…” Danny looked over at Melissa, then sighed. “Her father’s a waste of good oxygen.”
“I’ve dated men like that.”
“You have?”
“Yeah. All of them.” They were chuckling together as Val entered in front of John.
Val looked between them and started to say something. John clapped a hand on his shoulder. “No.”
“No?”
“You don’t want to ask.”
“I do. I really do.”
“You really don’t.” John pushed on past — the lounge wasn’t huge, a stretch to do a dinner party for six, and the gurney was two or three people’s worth of real estate. He walked into the kitchen. “You finished with the waffles?”
“Yeah. In the oven.” Val started rummaging through cupboards.
“The plates are over there.” Danny pointed to a drawer.
“Thanks.” Val grabbed out some plates, and started dishing out hot waffles and bacon. “Did you get me a new phone
?”
John tossed a small white box at him. “Next time, we’re using your credit card to buy a new phone. Seriously, how do you break them so often?”
“It wasn’t my fault. Did you get the syrup?”
“Do bears do it in the woods? Of course I got the syrup.” John worked beside his friend, pouring a generous dose of syrup on each stack. “Everyone’s getting syrup.”
Adalia jumped out of her chair, holding up a doll. “I need extra syrup. For Madeline.”
Val crouched down to look her in the eye. “Madeline?” He looked across at Danny, who nodded. “I guess that’s fair enough. Extra syrup for Adalia and Maddy.”
“It’s Madeline!”
Carlisle looked at the plates of food. “I hope no one’s a diabetic.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
They’d eaten breakfast seated on the floor, plates on their laps — except for Carlisle, who’d had breakfast in bed.
Val held up his phone. “The question is whether I should go.”
John scooped a final stray line of syrup from his plate with a finger. “Those waffles were damn fine. I can go to my death happy now.”
Val snorted. “I don’t think a medical test is quite like going to your death.”
Carlisle looked over at Val. “The message was from your doctor? You’re sure?”
“I’ve known Barny for years.” Val shrugged. “Sounded like Barny. Sure I’m sure.”
Danny leaned back, smelling her coffee. It got better on the second cup. “What did he say, exactly?”
“Something about poor liver function. They need to run some more tests.”
“So don’t go.”
Val looked down at his phone. “I need to know.”
Carlisle cleared her throat. “I’m with Danielle.”
“It’s just Danny.”
“I’m with Danny. Don’t go. Doesn’t feel right.”
Val spun his phone in his hands. “Look, guys. We need more information. And … well. That asshole at the hospital seemed to want me for something. I’m not a great believer in coincidence.”
Carlisle snorted. “Exactly. It’s no coincidence that they want you in for tests.”
“This is different.”
The Night's Champion Collection: A supernatural werewolf thriller trilogy Page 17
