Hybrid: A Shadowmark Origins Novel

by T. M. Catron

  “After the hangups we’ve had the last few weeks, I felt it best to change the tone of our conversation tonight.”

  The party was already going strong when we entered the hotel through a side entrance. Champagne and hors d’oeuvres floated around the room. An open bar on the left was full. Already the room smelled like drugs and sweat. The only lights were blue and red strobes. Dark corners held comfortable couches and small tables. The room was more like a club than a hotel. Tank knew what he was doing.

  And so did I. Security was stationed throughout the hall. Some blended in, some did not. The obvious guards stood at the doors watching the crowd.

  We had paid the hotel dearly to look the other way for this party. Local socialites mixed with some of the most influential people of France. Any flub up could land one of them on the front page of the news.

  I made way for EW as he crossed the room to a plush chair reserved just for him. He settled into it like a man weary of the world while a server handed him a glass of wine.

  We had thirty minutes until the meeting. As the music transitioned to a thumping dubstep, I scanned the crowd. At the edge of the room, near the front door, Toral had just passed through security. Her hair was pinned elegantly at the nape of her neck, and she wore a floor-length black dress. I still missed the sari, but the dress wasn’t anything to sneer at.

  Toral maneuvered around the room, dodging dancers in the middle of the floor. She spotted me and smiled, then turned to a few people congregating around a tall table. I glanced at Armelle speaking to Tank on a separate couch, ignoring the party around them. Even if Armelle bothered to look up and see Toral, she wouldn’t have recognized her. Only her prominent scar would have given her away if anyone had even known who belonged to it.

  After a few minutes of looking bored on the chair, EW rose to walk around the room, chatting with people, pretending to be friendly. I followed him at a discreet distance. Everyone at the party was a friend, and any one of them could try to hurt him. EW had angered many, and the fact that over half the room owed him a favor meant I needed to be especially on guard.

  We wandered around until EW turned to me. I checked my watch and nodded. We went to a side room off the ballroom. Shortly after EW got seated at a small table, the others began trickling in. EW stood as each one entered, shaking their hand before offering them a seat.

  When all five were seated, he nodded at me, and I left the room, closed the door, and stood in front of it. Toral had noticed the movement and made her way to me at the door.

  “Who’s the guy you said arranged all this?” she asked when she came to stand beside me.

  “Takumi.” I nodded to him still sitting unnecessarily close to Armelle.

  “And that’s Armelle Emerson-Wright?”

  “Yes.”

  “She has quite a reputation.”

  “All of it is completely earned and probably worse than the rumors.”

  “How do you know what they’re saying in there?”

  “Right now, they’re exchanging pleasantries. One of them offered to host a party at his summer home in Spain next year.”

  “Yes, but what did you plant in there, and are you feeding it through your earpiece?”

  “Yes,” I lied. “I bugged EW’s jacket, so an earlier sweep for bugs was completely useless.”

  I smiled mischievously.

  Toral nodded. “Morse, I meant to thank you—”

  “Just a minute. They’re starting.”

  “Gentlemen,” EW was saying, “I think you misunderstand the purpose of this meeting. It’s not to ask you for money—I have plenty of that. It’s to offer you protection.”

  “From what, monsieur?” said the ambassador.

  “The future.”

  Someone snorted.

  “Are you recording?” whispered Toral.

  I shook my head. She frowned.

  “Are you now a god, Gregory?”

  “For the purposes of this conversation, yes. I have some information, and I’m sorry to say it is not pleasant. But I invited the five of you here because you are all uniquely positioned to help me get the preparations I require.”

  “What sort of preparations?”

  “And what’s in it for us?” said another.

  “Excellent questions. First, I want to prepare you that what I’m about to say will seem far-fetched and downright unbelievable, but I have spent the past year verifying this information, and can provide proof if you want it.”

  “So, what is it, the zombie apocalypse?”

  Polite laughter rippled around the table. EW waited until the room quieted again.

  “No, worse,” he said. He paused to let the information sink in.

  One man still snickered as he said, “What could be worse than a zombie apocalypse, Greg?”

  “The complete destruction of the planet by an invading alien force.”

  Invading alien force. So, I was right. Although I’d suspected as much, hearing EW say it was jarring, to say the least.

  Inside the room, someone else laughed. “What kind of alien force?”

  “Sirs, we are not alone in the universe. I have proof. And the aliens plan to destroy mankind. I have been steadily preparing for this for three years.”

  The room stayed silent a minute. I imagined that all of them were wondering if EW had gone insane, or if they were the victim of an elaborate joke.

  “Gregory,” the ambassador said. “Is this some ploy to ruin all of us? The minute we come out with a tale of aliens, our careers are over.”

  “No, you can’t tell anyone. In fact, if any of you try, I’ll make sure you never tell anyone anything again. And you know I keep my promises.”

  He paused to let the threat sink in.

  “I’m preparing safe locations throughout the world. Any of which I can always reach by a one-hour helicopter ride or a three-hour drive. What I would like is for you to tell me how you can help finish my preparations. Currently, I am having trouble getting certain items into some of the countries.”

  “And I repeat, what’s in it for us?”

  “A promise to use them when the time comes.”

  “And when will that be?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Oh, screw it!” said one who’d been silent the whole time. “This isn’t real. It’s another one of his jokes. See that smile, gentleman? He’s got something else he’s trying to do, and he wants our help. But I’m not going to be involved in anything if I don’t know what it’s about.”

  His chair moved away from the table.

  “Just a minute. If you walk out of the room, you’ll never get another chance. Even if you come begging at my door, I will never open it. A one-time opportunity.”

  “I’ll take the risk, Emerson.”

  He opened the door, and I stepped aside for him to leave. I pulled it closed and watched him go find his date to exit the party.

  “Sanders,” I said in my radio, “Please follow him and make sure he gets home safely.” It was our code phrase for making sure he never got home.

  Toral looked at me with narrowed, suspicious eyes. I shrugged.

  “Now, gentlemen,” EW continued. “I’m prepared to send you all the details in the morning about how you can help me, along with indisputable evidence that I am telling the truth. Please be thinking about how you can contribute.”

  “Really, Emerson? Aliens?”

  “I told you it was far-fetched, but I could not be more serious. I promise I’ll send the proof.”

  “They’re leaving,” I said to Toral. “Give me some space.”

  One by one they rose and shuffled around to the door. When one of them opened it, I stepped aside to let them pass. EW nodded to me. I walked into the room with him and closed the door.

  “I need you to arrange a couple of couriers for tomorrow. Your best and most discreet. They will personally deliver some documents for me, in locked containers.”

  “Yes, sir. Where are they going?”
>
  “Just send them to my office. I’ll make sure they know where to go.”

  EW left the room. I gave him a head start, then followed. Toral had disappeared.

  The party began to ramp up. More people swaggered and swayed on the dance floor. Servers rushed about to keep up with the demand for drinks. A few escorts meandered through the crowd.

  EW sat down on his couch and watched Armelle cuddle with Tank. Their closeness seemed to amuse him. He had another drink, then wandered around the room again, his eyes lingering on one of the escorts. Then he turned to me. “Time to go.”

  I nodded to him and signaled Robert. We accompanied him home to his tower fortress. When he stepped off the elevator at his residence, he said, “I need you to get those couriers tonight, Morse.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  “Send them up here.”

  I hopped back on the elevator and went down to my office. I couldn’t believe my luck. I picked up my cell phone and texted Toral to meet back at the apartment.

  Can’t, she replied. Got some good stuff here.

  Not as good as mine, I replied.

  Then I called Charan. “Where are you?”

  “In the apartment.”

  “Good. Stay there. Be right down.”

  I took the stairs. Charan sat on the couch with his laptop resting on the cushioned armrest. “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Got something good for you. EW needs a courier, and he needs one tonight.”

  “Okay.”

  “And it directly involves the properties. His meeting was to get help moving goods across international borders. He’s sending his partners the info now.”

  “Any idea what they’re for?”

  I shook my head. “We need to see what’s in those files.”

  “Got it.” Charan stood and closed his laptop. “Why doesn’t he just email them or transfer them electronically? It’s what I would do.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t trust their networks.”

  “Okay. But hard copies laying around an office aren’t any safer.”

  “Maybe it’s still a digital transfer.”

  “An encrypted drive or something?”

  “Maybe.”

  Charan changed his clothes, then left the apartment to meet EW. I contacted two more couriers and told them to get upstairs ASAP.

  Toral arrived shortly after. “So, what’s so important that you pulled me out of that party?”

  I explained about Charan’s errand, including the conclusion that he must be transferring digital material.

  “I should have put a wire on Charan. Why didn’t he wait?”

  “No time.”

  Toral sat on the couch across from me. The hem of her dress gathered on the floor around her feet. “So now we just wait.”

  “You look nice,” I said.

  “Thank you. You dress up okay too.”

  She picked at the armrest of the couch.

  “Nervous?” I asked.

  “No and yes. We could be done with this investigation sooner than we thought.”

  “And then what?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You report everything back home and hope they don’t fire you?”

  “Something like that.” Toral quit picking and looked up at me. “I never thought you’d be this helpful.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No, I’m serious. What is it about EW that makes you want to team up with the US government?”

  “I’m not teaming up with it. I’m teaming up with you.”

  When she didn’t respond, I said, “Relax, Toral, I know I’m just another Micheline.”

  She shook her head. “You’re not.”

  What?

  At that moment, Charan entered the apartment carrying a plain black bag over his shoulder. His timing couldn’t have been worse. I’d never wanted to hit a man so much in my life as right then. But I didn’t.

  He walked over to the kitchen table and opened the bag.

  “That’s it?” Toral asked.

  Inside the bag was an elegantly carved wooden box, smoothed and stained in varying browns.

  “It’s a puzzle box,” I said, picking it up. We passed it around, each trying to find the trigger to open it. Finally, Toral managed to release a top layer of wood, revealing a button underneath. She pressed it.

  A side piece popped out. She played with it until another one did the same. Then the lid opened. Charan and I leaned over to see what was inside.

  Nothing.

  “Why would he send a box with nothing in it?” I asked.

  Toral began putting it back together, systematically wiping off any fingerprints with a dishtowel she retrieved from the kitchen drawer. Charan grabbed his phone from his pocket and took pictures as she put it back together. When she finished, he placed it back inside the bag and hurried out the door to make his delivery.

  I turned to Toral. “It’s code.”

  She dropped the towel on the table. “Yes, I think so. But without time to study it or know what it applies to, we’ll be a while figuring it out.”

  “Are you good at puzzles?”

  She smiled. “Yes.”

  Toral stepped closer to me, her hand going to mine. She picked it up and looked at the four scars there on the top of my hand, brushing her finger over them as if to figure them out.

  “Am I a puzzle, Toral?”

  She laughed. “Not as much as you might think.”

  I frowned. Before a few weeks ago, I’d never even considered that someday a human would figure out my secret just by spending time with me. With Toral, I was terrified of the idea. Yet, I was powerless to leave. “How so?” I asked.

  She let go of my hand. “I’ve seen how you look at me, Morse.”

  I sighed in relief and then leaned against the table. “How do I look at you?”

  “Like you’re just biding your time.”

  I smirked. Maybe I was. “What did you mean when you said I wasn’t like Micheline?”

  “Micheline needs to get out of there. She’s unhappy, and she’s been treated very poorly. If those were the only reasons for leaving, they would be good ones at any job. But the longer she stays, the more she knows, and that’s never good when you want to leave a place like Emerson-Wright. I know her motives for helping me.”

  “But not mine.”

  “You’re not bitter as I first thought. You are good at what you do. And I don’t see anything in you that says you want to leave. So why are you helping me?”

  “Are you referring to the man who walked out of the meeting tonight?” I asked. By now, he was probably tied to something at the bottom of the Seine.

  “I know of him—he was a snake. Whatever he got tonight was probably justified.”

  “You think I’ll get what’s coming to me?” I winked at her.

  “Careful, Morse, I have a gun.”

  I ran my eyes down her dress. “Where?”

  “Don’t think now is your time.”

  “But I will get a time?”

  She smiled despite herself.

  “I think that smile is part of an act you’ve learned,” I said, thinking aloud. “Make the informant think he has a chance with you until you get the information you need. I’ve used similar tactics myself.”

  “And how many times did you disappoint someone?”

  I shook my head. “Every time.”

  “Really? Every time?” She walked into the kitchen.

  I followed. “They weren’t interesting.”

  Now she looked me up and down like she didn’t believe me.

  Funny how a man can get away with lying all the time, but when he tells the truth, no one believes it.

  “Hungry?” she asked.

  I smiled. “Always.”

  “I’m going to fix you a real omelette.”

  Toral walked around the kitchen, gathering ingredients, her dress swishing lightly around her legs. It hugged her in just the right places. Where did she stow the gu
n, and how did she get it through security at the party?

  “I miss the sari,” I said aloud.

  “Which one?”

  “The blue. If you want to put it on, I’ll wait. Don’t want you to ruin that formal dress making an omelette.”

  Toral shot me a sideways glance and kept working. In ten minutes, she slid a perfectly cooked omelette onto my plate, stuffed with bacon, sausage, peppers, and spinach. She topped it with cheese.

  “This is a perfect omelette?”

  “It is where I grew up. Eat.” She handed me a fork. “Tomorrow I need you to do something for me.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Anything you like.”

  “I’m serious now, Morse.” She paused while I arranged my face in some way that didn’t contain a smirk. “I need you to find out what the puzzle box goes to. When you do, I can use the pictures to figure it out.”

  I nodded. “It’s a fair deal. You flirt with me, I risk my neck to get criminal secrets. Do they teach you to do this at the Farm?”

  “I did just cook you an early breakfast.”

  I smiled the big cheesy grin, making sure food didn’t fall out of my mouth. At the moment, payment with omelette was perfect.

  23

  Spy

  Toral and I waited up until Charan returned to the apartment, around 3:00 am. “I turned it over to an assistant,” he said. “Nothing else to report.”

  After they had gone to their rooms, I opened my laptop and began working. I logged into EW’s computer, browsing through folders and subfolders, looking for anything that required a key. But once I was in there, everything looked exactly as it had before. Names. Dates. Accounts. Nothing out of the ordinary, even for a high-ranking banking official who dabbled in organized crime.

  Unless he had a secret partition. I went back until I hit his login screen. How would a puzzle box translate to a key? I closed my eyes, remembering the steps Toral had taken. A press on the left. A tap on the right. A door opened, showing a button. Press the button, a piece slid out on the left, then one on the right. Then it opened.

  I stared at my keyboard. Thousands of possibilities came to mind, each one as likely or unlikely as the next. I couldn’t test them from here. No doubt one wrong entry would set off an alarm somewhere. It had to be correct the first time.