The arms had stretched, elongated so they reached almost to his knee. Normally that would give an apish appearance, but this was far from the case, for his were not normal arms. The shoulders and where the biceps would normally be, were rippled with a knotted musculature that reached to the elbow. Just below the elbow was a massive ring of flesh with protruding barbs and below flat thin forearms with hard bone-like ridges sharpened like knife blades into formidable weapons.
The hands seemed to be the most normal part of him except for their size. He was wearing what appeared to be tattered jungle fatigues torn through in spots to allow the protrusion of the natural weapons his body had developed. His skin was covered with layers of armored scales. The eyes were large, round and luminous below bony ridges. It was like nature had decided to build its own tank, armored and impervious. In spite of the unnatural quality of the tones, the humanity in his voice came through as he continued.
"For two years we endured the trials and changes. They told us they had perfected the procedures through animal experimentation, but it wasn't true. We were the first human subjects and we stepped into uncharted territory. They performed what seemed like endless experimental medical procedures. They grafted DNA, the growth and adaptability factors of certain reptiles, animals and even fish life into our bodies. They accelerated the normal evolutionary process. In the end I was the only one of the original five who survived. It seemed like the whole concept was doomed if you have to kill four to get one bio-enhanced. I didn't know at the time that all they needed was one—just one bio-enhanced soldier to do their bidding. They don't care how many they kill in the process. Life, compassion, loyalty, all that has no meaning to them."
"Who are you talking about?" asked Daniels. "Is it that group that calls themselves Subsidiary Data Acquisition, SDA?"
"There's no such group, they're not a government agency. That's just what they told you. It's a cover for a powerful group of rogue agents within our own intelligence community. They act on their own and have almost unlimited financing and access to government resources. They have carried their own agenda for God knows how many years."
"How did you get on to this?"
"What they didn't know, couldn't have known, was some of the effects of the mutations on the human mind, on how we think and what we become susceptible to. Along with the treatments I was being given steady doses of Lithogentricol."
In the growing light Daniels saw more details. The man's legs were thick with muscles like cords of high-tension steel, the thighs heavy with power. The immense unnatural strength of those legs would give him the capability for prodigious leaps and bursts of speed. Daniels remembered two nights ago, in the commando boat, when he exploded like a powerful rocket out of the murky depths and wreaked havoc.
"I'm not a pharmacist," Daniels said. "I have no clue what Lithogentricol is."
"Even if you were a pharmacist, you still wouldn't know. It's a secret mind control drug they developed in their own laboratories. They were feeding it to us. Everything seemed logical and normal at the time. I couldn't pick out the inequities of what was going on. The drug kills normal human suspicion. You sort of accept everything that comes your way like the most natural thing in the world. I was falling into it, turning into an obedient and deadly robot. It was one of their technicians who pulled me out. A young man they'd seduced with obscene amounts of money. Except, unlike them, this one had a conscience. He tampered with the doses and gradually, as the bio-enhancements started taking hold the weaker doses of the drug began to lose its effect. They had no way of knowing because I was the first successful human bio-enhancement they ever had. You see Richard, along with the physical enhancements come the mental adaptation. The brain becomes sharper, more in focus. But you pay a heavy price for all that. By that time, I knew there was something rotten. That young technician kept feeding me bits and pieces of information when he could. He was making a record of it himself, trying to figure out how to stop all this and keep his life. In the end, he failed on both counts. They murdered him and dumped him in the Everglades."
The body that Bobby-Ray found that night, being devoured by alligators, thought Daniels, that's who it was.
The man coughed, a ragged unnatural savage sound as if the effort of keeping human speech was taking a toll on mutated alien vocal cords. A shuddering ripple went through the massive frame and he waited until it stopped before speaking again.
"But I kept silent. I continued to act as if the drug was still in effect. It all came together when I got my first assignment."
As he spoke Daniels started to see glimmers of understanding. So many things about this affair had bothered him. Yet, there was not one thing he could point to like a smoking gun. It was a series of things. Why one man in the Everglades? Why only one unheard of hush-hush agency? Christ the government had screwed up often enough, it was almost expected. It also explained the undue pressure that had been placed on Daniels and the filthy way they had used the people around him to coerce him into doing their dirty work. As he listened to this deadly hulk of a monstrous man, Daniels was beginning to piece it together, connecting all the dots.
As Daniels saw the man clearly in the growing light, he also saw a victim. He felt the irony, the untold longings, the hopelessness and despair as waves of anguished yearning rode on the man's alien voice.
"You see my first assignment was to murder a member of the United States House of Representative," said the man.
"What?" Daniels said, as a surge of repugnance went through his mind like a tide of slimy cockroaches. What kind of people were they that held such contemptuous power? They had killed eight men in these obscene parodies of scientific medicine. Four volunteers who had died believing they were serving their country. Then four brave soldiers killed trying to control what they had created from the survivor. And that was only the ones he knew about. There were probably many more. All this so they could murder members of our government and anyone else who stood in the way of whatever it was they wanted to do and whatever power they wanted to seize.
"He was the Honorable Joshua Palumbo, Democrat, Maryland," continued John. "He headed the oversight committee that apparently was closing in on some improper use of Agency funds and other irregularities by this small group of CIA agents. The legislator was due to participate on a three days hunting trip in the hills of South Carolina. I was to track him down and kill him and his entire party of four—just another mysterious disappearance. I played along like I was still under the influence of the Lithogentricol. I could see what was happening. God knows where they got these huge funds from, but the entire bio-enhancement project is theirs, this small group of agents, they're running this whole show. Once they control a few bio-enhanced soldiers they plan to turn them into their own private army of controlled killers. They will eliminate anyone or anything in their way. Nothing could stand or protect against that kind of power. Something like me, like what I've become, could penetrate any Secret Service security. There would be no such thing as protection. No one and nothing would be safe."
"But how did you wind up here?"
A hint of a smile flew across the grotesque features as he answered.
"I didn't look like Frankenstein's nightmare then. It's the environment and the stress that causes the rapid mutation. If I was in the Arctic Circle, God alone knows what I would have become, probably some kind of Polar Bear-like creature. I was supposed to be airdropped near the target's intended hunting camp. I would ambush his party, kill them and destroy the corpses. I forced the pilot past the target area in South Carolina, refueled at Jacksonville Air Base and parachuted over the Everglades. It was the closest, most desolate spot I could think off."
Chapter 39
It became brighter as the first rays of the sun lit the top of the tallest palms jutting from the center of the island. Near the water's edge the Mangroves marked the entry of the saltier water from the Gulf of Mexico. A moccasin slid between the roots and entered the water, silent as a f
inger of darkness. Daniels could see the man clearly and the full horror of his mutations. The weight of the muscular bulk caused his feet to sink into the moist earth. Even the feet had changed, splayed and webbed between the toes.
On the edge of the channel both men saw Deeno getting up in the Catamaran. He saw them also but made no move to leave the boat. The Bio stepped a little closer and placed his hand on Daniels' arm. His touch felt like hard solid oak wrapped in scaly leather.
"Wait, There are things I want to tell you that I don't want the boy to know," said the man. "I killed those three soldiers, that first team they sent after me, and the one that was with you the other night. There is no choice for me. In stressed situations I can no longer control my actions. I'm afraid if they come again, I may hurt him or you."
Daniels shook his head. More than anything else he didn't want Deeno involved, but after talking with the man named John-was that his real name? Or, had he just said that to Deeno after the boy contacted the humanity beneath the mutated bulk of his body. Daniels found it hard to imagine him causing any harm to Deeno.
Daniels told him so.
"You don't understand," the man replied. "Normal human beings can control and override their instincts. That's why we jump out of planes and willingly place ourselves in danger. We control the flight-or-fight syndrome with our intellect. I retain the intellect, but it no longer has the ability to override my actions. When I sense a threat, the pure animal survival instinct takes over. I didn't want to kill those men. With the abilities I have, I could have found a way. But I was no longer in control. It was like watching a movie that's out of your reach, and there's one more thing."
Daniels felt the pain and longing coming out of him, the immense feeling of loss pouring from his soul.
"None of this is free. Every mutation, every extraordinary act that my body makes takes away my energy, my life force. I can feel my body clock ticking at an astronomical rate. I'll be dead in two to three days, maybe sooner. That's the ultimate irony. All they had to do was leave me alone and nature would take care of it. That's how it works."
Daniels was filled with violent anger at what had been done to this brave man. What had been done to so many brave men over too many years.
He handed Daniels a small package wrapped in clear heavy plastic. Two protected computer discs and a set of GI dog tags. He read the tags.
John W. Gilbert Jr., 1st Lt
As the sun rose among the Mangroves on what was to be one of the most twisted days of his life, Richard Daniels felt the weight of the betrayal that had been done by a handful of evil men. He knew at that moment, he had to let this story see the light of day. He had to be the avenger or die trying.
Chapter 40
They walked back to the boat as the Bio, Lt. John Gilbert Jr. continued speaking in those alien guttural tones.
"I put everything I saw and remembered in the computer discs. Names, dates places, events, it's all there. Stop them if you can Richard."
They stood in the soft mud bank of the salt-water channel. Richard Daniels, Deeno and John W. Gilbert Jr. or what he had become. Daniels and the young man sat on the stern of the Catamaran while John stood, his bulk dwarfing the Mandrakes, the webbed feet sinking into the mud.
"Who was your main contact?" Daniels asked, "Was it someone named Conboy?"
"He was the main contact I had, but he wasn't in charge. I only saw the head honcho once or twice. Tall, distinguished looking, pure Washington Beltway. Must have lived at Langley. I tried to hack into the files, get some ideas who he was but its impossibly well covered. No, Conboy and Hart are flunkies. That other guy is pulling their strings. The one with the black mole on his face."
Something spun in Daniels' head and danced on the edge of his consciousness. It was a puzzle with a gap, a crucial missing piece. Something he knew, but could not bring to the surface. It was like assembling something in the dark with no directions, no light.
John cocked his head toward the East and the morning sun. A large scaled earflap rotated toward the direction like that of a deer.
He listened to the wilderness for a moment.
"They're coming," John said. "Leave, it's time now."
"No," Deeno said. "We can't leave him here Uncle Richard. We can't."
"Do I look like I can't take care of myself boy," said John, his voice a rumbling thunder, "If you hang around you'll just slow me down. I don't need to worry about you. Daniels, take the boy and leave, now."
Something clicked in Daniels' head. A missing piece suddenly came together. It reached over the years, past the deaths, pain and betrayal: a memory that had festered all that time since Mexico. He held his hand up suddenly toward John.
That dead soldier, Kolb, his diary had given Daniels the missing piece. The answer suddenly fell into place.
A man with a black spot on his cheek.
The CIA's own William Taylor.
Daniels turned to Deeno and placed both hands on the young man's shoulder as he spoke to him.
"Deeno, listen carefully. I want you to try and remember. It's very, very important. The men who spoke to you when they had you in the jail, the bad place, what were they like? What do you remember?"
Deeno squinted his eyes shut for a moment. He looked up at the top of the overhanging Mangroves then back to Daniels as he answered.
"They kept asking questions. They weren't mean to Deeno or anything like that, but I knew they wanted to hurt John. I could feel it. I didn't tell them anything, but they weren't mean. They gave me the St Christopher's medal. They said to wear it always and it would bring luck."
Daniels moved closer, looking steadily at Deeno's face and spoke softly.
"Deeno, this is very important. I want you to remember very hard. The men who gave you the medal, did one of them have a black spot on his face?"
"Yes, he was the one. He said it was good luck, you know uncle Richard, like my horseshoe."
"Yes Deeno, like your horseshoe," Daniels said softly.
He placed his arm around the young man's shoulder and turned to John Gilbert.
"It's the guy you saw once or twice," said Daniels to John, "the guy with the mole on his face. The one you said seemed to be in charge. I know who he is."
William Taylor. CIA recruiter, only now he was much more than a simple recruiter involved in black operations. He had been much more all along, using the influence he picked up for his own ends.
"Deeno, let me see that medal," said Daniels.
He removed it from his neck and handed it to him. Daniels looked at it closely. It was light, made of some kind of plastic coated metal, maybe a little thicker than normal. Daniels took the K-bar knife from his holster and pried at the surface. The point dug in just under St Christopher's staff and the cover popped off and fell in the mud. He pulled back a second plastic cover revealing tiny microchip circuits and a blinking LED no larger than the head of a pin.
Daniels felt everything falling in place. He reared back and hurled the medallion toward the middle of the salt-water channel. John seemed to understand in a flash as Deeno stood with a puzzled expression. Another couple of minutes and it would have been too late thought Daniels. Dawn, the preferred time to attack was already here. The medal made a high lazy arc and splashed down, heading toward the bottom, carried by the slow moving current.
Chapter 41
The Bio's heightened senses felt it well ahead of the others. He grabbed Deeno and threw him to the muddy bank then whirled and violently pushed Daniels down. Daniels tasted the rotting vegetation and decay of the bank as he was slammed into it, his body pressed into the ooze. He felt a huge bulk pinning him. He remained aware of Deeno down next to him, under John's powerful mutated arms and torso.
Fired from the still out of sight Blackhawk helicopter, the missile came down from the top of the tree lines, its micro chip brain following the signals of the locator unit in the St Christopher medal. The projectile impacted in the middle of the channel, much too close. The hig
h explosive warhead detonated on contact with the water.
The massive explosion seemed like the end of the world. John's body absorbed most of the blast wave and concussion. He rolled away from them, his back bloody and raw, eyes glazing beneath the scaled bony ridge. Somehow, John had managed to override the deadly self-preservation instinct and protect them.
In the distance Daniels saw the black helicopter flying over the trees lining the banks, following the channel. There was a dull roaring in his head drowning out all other sounds. The concussion had blasted out eardrums. He shook his head trying to clear the dizzying sensations as he watched John hurl Deeno into the dense Mandrake stand, pushing him, urging him to flee.
The Blackhawk stopped about a hundred yards from them, hovering like a malevolent dragonfly. It dropped altitude until it was just six feet from the water. A packaged dropped down and inflated automatically into a small commando boat. A man jumped into the boat: classic small unit enfoldment maneuver. Now the helicopter lowered its nose as it headed straight for John and Daniels. John had pushed Deeno well into the tangled masses of roots and vegetation. He was completely out of sight when John's massive body reappeared just fifteen feet from Daniels.
Richard Daniels saw it like a nightmare, in slow motion and unpreventable. The Blackhawk, its nose down, the right door opened as someone leaned out holding a tube, an RPG, Rocket Propelled Grenade launcher. As the helicopter approached, he recognized Hart at the control and Schmus holding the RPG, wearing unmarked jungle fatigues instead of the Deputy Sheriff uniform. Through the open door of the machine, Daniels also recognized the forms of the two men who had accosted him in the parking lot a few days ago.
Daniels came up on one knee, struggling to stand as John moved even farther from him. As the helicopter approached, the huge blades spread waves from the downward blast of air into the banks of the channel. John's alien bulky form had now moved some forty feet from Daniels.
The Last Operation (The Remnants of War Series, Book 1) Page 18
