Wolf's Bane td-132

by Warren Murphy

  Remo met the face full of fangs with his own fist, thrusting his hand into the wolf man's maw. The jaw full of fangs disintegrated. The back of his shaggy neck exploded.

  Then Remo extracted the arm fast. But not fast enough to keep it from getting covered in blood and gore.

  The loup-garou of Louisiana wavered. He was still alive and gagging on his own teeth and blood. He struggled, amazingly, to get to his feet. Remo sneered. "Forget about it. You can't even bite my legs off."

  Angry breath wheezed out of the werewolf's bloody throat.

  "You gonna huff and puff and blow my house in?" Remo demanded. "Not this house, Leon." He struck hard and fast, his palm crushing the wolf man's skull with his palm, and Leon collapsed like a ton of bricks.

  Incredibly, he was still alive, still moving weakly.

  "No wonder Dr. Judy was scared of this guy," Remo said, "Whatever she gave him, it was kick ass."

  Then the gurgle of death rattled out of the throat of the beast-man. The great, hairy brute went limp. "Is he really dead?" It was Aurelia, without her pistol, stepping tentatively in Remo's direction.

  Remo nodded. "He's dead. And too ugly even for a rug."

  Chapter 19

  "Hey, Big Crawdaddy."

  Armand Fortier awoke in a panic. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. There was someone in his cell!

  "Be cool, Armand. I just need to talk to you for a little old minute."

  Now he saw the shape of the man. It sure the hell wasn't the big black guard. It was-

  The hand was removed from his mouth. "Keep it down now, will you?"

  "You're the one who came to visit me last week!" Armand accused.

  "Oooo, eee. I guarantee that's me," said the Reigning Master of Sinanju.

  "How did you get in here?"

  "That doesn't matter. I just wanted to tell you that I came to wrap up some loose ends," Remo Williams explained.

  "What loose ends?" Armand Fortier looked around wildly for some sort of an explanation. Sure enough, he was in his cell, in the middle of the night, just where he thought he was. The door to his cell was closed. The penitentiary was silent and lit only by the nighttime lights. Everything was as expected, except for the man in the cell with him.

  "You see," the stranger was telling him, "I killed old Leon the loup-garou."

  Fortier glared at him. "You killed Leon?"

  "But one of Leon's pups took out old Merle before I got there."

  "Merle's dead?"

  "Also, about ten of your guys bought it tonight."

  "No way-!"

  Armand Fortier found himself paralyzed. The stranger was holding him by the neck.

  "I asked you to be quiet, now, didn't I, Big Crawdaddy," Remo said. "Let me ask you this. I just snuck into a federal penitentiary in the middle of the night. Why would I lie to you about the other stuff?"

  Fortier's eyes were wild.

  "It's true. I guarantee." Fortier tried to nod, but he couldn't.

  "There are a few loose ends, though," Remo explained in a reasonable, quiet voice. "A few wolves running around in the bayou. I don't know if we'll ever find them all. And then there's you. You, I knew right where to find."

  Fortier was confused.

  "Got to tie up those loose ends," Remo Williams said.

  Then he did. Literally.

  Chapter 20

  The sour face of Dr. Harold W. Smith was more pinched than usual.

  "You didn't have to knot him up like that."

  "Yes, I did," Remo answered.

  "He was still alive when they found him, you know," Smith added. "Paralyzed and mute, but conscious. They said his legs and arm bones had been broken in dozens of places."

  "Had to do that," Remo said reasonably. "Had to make him all floppy in order to make the knots. You know, the little fox goes through the hole?"

  Dr. Smith sighed. Chiun stood impassively at the corner of the desk. Mark Howard, in the other chair, added, "Fortier died while they were trying to untie him."

  "Shame," Remo said, and found some interesting bird droppings on Smith's window to look at. "They left him like that. I suppose the coroner will have a go at undoing him," Smith said.

  "They should leave him in his present state," Chiun observed. "He would fit most conveniently in a garbage sack."

  Remo smiled while Smith ignored the remark. "Louisiana state police are working on another case, involving several wealthy sportsmen who were found dead in the bayou country, shortly after your encounter with the so-called werewolf. One of them turned out to be a candidate for governor, an Elmo Breen. The others were presumably his friends, perhaps contributors to his campaign. One member of the party-Breen's campaign manager, in fact-is still missing. The party's hunting guide survived and told authorities that 'wild dogs' had attacked the camp. I would assume they'll try to pin the tragedy on Leon Grosvenor, whether he was involved or not."

  "Feds see any wolves in the area?" Remo asked.

  "No," Mark Howard answered. "Did you?"

  "Not so much as moldy dog biscuit or a mis placed chew toy," Remo said. "We managed to convince some of the locals to take us to the hermit's shack this morning and the wolves had been gone for hours. They knew their pals weren't coming back, and they knew it wasn't safe to stick around."

  "Any idea where they went?" Howard asked. "They covered their tracks."

  Smith said, "Excuse me?"

  "They sought to confuse the trail, 0 Emperor," Chiun said in a pleasant singsong. "They used every trick to obfuscate and erase the evidence of their passing."

  "Surely they didn't consciously try to obliterate their trail?" Smith said.

  "They were people, Smitty," Remo said. "Just deal with it, would you? They talked. That means they could think."

  "I suppose so," Smith said.

  "We followed the path out of the bayou to a state highway," Remo reported.

  "Remo lost the trail at a service station," Chiun announced casually.

  "We both lost it," Remo said. "They hitched a ride. They must have stowed away on some truck. It was three, four hours before we reached the spot. Where they went from there? West. Maybe." He shrugged. "What about the others at the big Godfest?"

  Smith looked down at his hidden computer screen. "Aside from Grosvenor and the several gunmen who arrived with Bettencourt, three persons are reported dead, with seventeen injured in various degrees."

  "Reverend Rockhead?" Remo asked.

  "Rockwell," Smith said. "He broke his left leg, hip and collarbone when he fell off the stage, but he's been quoted as insisting that it won't inhibit his campaign for governor. I understand he's also in negotiation for a TV movie of the week. Something about a modern exorcist who casts out demons." Remo had to smile at that. He had already seen the footage of Leon's attack on Reverend Rockwell. It had been aired on all the networks and repeatedly on CNN. The later broadcasts had been censored, but the early clips had captured Rockwell's exclamation as he vaulted off the stage, wailing for "Jesus H. Christ."

  Then his amusement dissipated like vapor. "We're not finished," he declared.

  Smith sighed and sat up a little straighter, hands lifting from the glass top of his desk where he had been operating the hidden computer keys. "We've found nothing more that will lead us to Judith White," he said.

  "The FBI combed the land where her mobile laboratory was parked," Mark Howard said. "They found a few very old traces that she had been there, but nothing useful. The evidence of her presence definitely predates the events at the water plant."

  "Definitely?" Remo demanded. "Definitely."

  "Leon Grosvenor, from what you've told us, seems like an experiment that almost got out of control," Smith said. "If what he told you is correct, then she was afraid of what she had made. He was too strong. Stronger than she was. Maybe it had something to do with the purity of the genetic material."

  "The files on all CURE's old encounters with Judith White show she used complex genetic mixtures on her subjects,
" Mark Howard explained. "Tests from the animal corpse you obtained in Louisiana show it is genetically pure by her standards. Genetic signatures from just two species could be positively identified in the blood Homo sapiens and canis lupus baileyi. Human and Mexican Gray Wolf, a subspecies of the North American Gray Wolf." He looked at Remo. "Maybe the bayou wolves were headed way west. Canis lupus baileyi lives in the Southwestern deserts."

  Dr. Smith added reluctantly, "The forensics report on Leon Grosvenor show that there were marked physiological changes, including signs of skeletal mutation, with bone-stress signatures indicative of extremely rapid growth."

  "So if Leon changed partially, then with a bigger dose of Dr. Judy's stuff-you change somebody almost entirely," Remo pressed.

  Smith looked very uncomfortable with the concept. "Yes," he admitted. "It appears so."

  Remo stood abruptly. Chiun looked at him worriedly. Mark Howard and Harold Smith followed his agitated floor pacing.

  "We gotta find that bitch," Remo declared.

  "Why?"

  It wasn't Smith or Howard. It was Chiun who asked the question.

  "What do you mean, why?" Remo demanded. "Look what she's capable of!"

  "Remo," said Mark Howard, "you are not responsible for what she does."

  "How would you know?"

  "You're going to get in trouble taking this too personally," Howard insisted.

  "When I want your advice-"

  "When I want to give you my advice I'll give it, goddamn it!" Howard said. "Would you just listen for a change!"

  Remo stopped pacing. "Okay, Junior. I'll listen."

  Howard looked flustered. "Well, I was done, actually."

  THE DAY WAS BRIGHT and unseasonably warm outside. They left the windows down as they drove out of Folcroft.

  Remo thought about Aurelia Boldiszar, back with her people now, picking up her life where it had been so rudely interrupted. She had suggested, at their parting, that she would be willing to remain with Remo for a while. The offer was appealing, but he said no. Aurelia seemed to take it well, and she had left him at the airport with a kiss Remo would not forget.

  Chiun had been silent in the passenger seat for a long while, staring straight ahead, before he finally said, "Why?"

  "Why what?" Remo asked.

  "Why we gotta find that bitch?"

  "Huh? Oh," Remo said, realizing Chiun was using his own words. Remo opened his mouth to answer. But he didn't.

  He was remembering the pronouncement of Aurelia Boldiszar. She was a freaking Gypsy. She was a crystal-ball gazer, for Christ's sake, but she had not been lying.

  I see the swirling darkness and chaos of your life. I see your fathers and your daughters and your sons, battling one another....

  She had seen it in her mind's eye. She believed it was a true vision of Remo's future. But was it? What the hell could it mean?

  And why was Remo Williams convinced it had something to do with Dr. Judith frigging White? They drove in silence for a while. The sun was brilliant. The day was dark.

  "My son?" Chiun said finally.

  "Yes, Little Father?" Remo answered respectfully.

  "Why?"

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