Sharp Teeth and Bloody Claws (Gray Spear Society Book 12)

by Alex Siegel

  Shipman had wide eyes, and his nostrils flared. Hanley recognized the signs of anxiety.

  "That's impossible. I've been working with rats my entire professional life. I've received a few nips, but they never outright attacked me. They don't behave that way."

  "Which is why we think they were being controlled," Hanley said. "Hundreds, maybe thousands of rats swarmed the victims."

  The doctor still appeared very uneasy. He looked down at his desk.

  "We were told you're the expert on rat brains. Is there any way to control large numbers of them?"

  "No." Shipman shook his head quickly and emphatically.

  "Can they be trained to kill?"

  "In theory, but so many at once? It's just not practical. You'd need a whole facility and a willing staff just to attempt such a massive project. And why would anybody do that? It's an incredibly elaborate and expensive way to commit murder. Even hiring a professional assassin would be cheaper. Your hypothesis is ridiculous."

  Hanley could tell Shipman was hiding important information. The doctor wasn't a very good liar. Hanley glanced at Katie, and her expression indicated she had reached the same conclusion.

  "Why do you love rats so much?" she said.

  "I don't love them," Shipman said. "I just study them. They're great experimental models. They're easy to keep and breed, and they have complex social behaviors like humans."

  "Really?"

  He relaxed a little. "Of course. They protect their young. They have territories. They play and fight. They groom each other, and like us, they don't like to be alone."

  "You make them sound all cuddly. We're talking about rats." Katie had a look of disgust.

  "That's a typical, unscientific attitude. I suggest you know something about a subject before you express an opinion. Now, I must ask both of you to leave. I have a lot of work to do. I wish I could be more helpful. I can only suggest you abandon your killer rat theory and pick a more productive avenue of investigation."

  Hanley contemplated what to do. He couldn't take violent action without Marina's authorization, and clearly, Shipman wouldn't talk willingly. It was time to call the boss.

  Hanley stood up. "Well, thank you for your time, anyway."

  He and Katie left the office. They walked down the white hallway and around a corner. He stopped and listened to make sure they weren't being followed.

  Hanley took out his phone and called Marina.

  "Yes?"

  "We met Dr. Shipman, ma'am," he said. "He refused to accept that rats could be involved, but I think he was lying. He knows a lot more than he admitted. He was certainly afraid of us."

  "Hmm. Follow him. If he's scared, he may lead you someplace interesting. We'll monitor his phone calls from here and perform a background check."

  "Yes, ma'am. Bye." Hanley hung up. "Did you hear?"

  Katie nodded. "Just like when I was a detective in the Air Force."

  "I'll stay here and keep an eye on his office. I want you to go plant a tracking device on his car."

  "I don't know which car is his."

  "Min Ho can get you that information," he said, "and we have tracking devices in the supplies we brought. Go."

  She nodded and ran off.

  He peeked around the corner and watched Shipman's door.

  * * *

  Joseph Shipman was shaking. He knew of a technology that allowed a man to absolutely control a group of rats. He had invented it, but the research was supposed to be secret. He had big plans for his discoveries, plans that involved making a lot of money instead of killing people in the Santa Cruz Mountains. Somebody had stolen his work.

  Shipmen went down a mental list of who might be responsible. Besides himself, only a small number of trusted assistants even knew the project existed. His laboratory was in a hidden room in the basement of the Hediger Institute. Shipman routinely reviewed the surveillance recordings and security logs. He was fairly certain a stranger had never set foot in there, which meant the responsible party was one of his own people.

  One name in particular jumped to mind. Summerlin, Shipman thought. The graduate student had always seemed all too eager to learn every last detail of the research. Shipman had caught Summerlin studying old notebooks and computer files many times. Nobody else had the depth of knowledge required to steal the technology. He had even delayed his Ph.D. thesis defense so he could work in the lab for a few extra months.

  Shipman used the phone on his desk to call his assistant.

  "Hello?" Summerlin said. His voice always sounded a little scratchy.

  "This is your boss. I just had two agents from the California Department of Justice in my office. They had questions about rat behavior. It seems four people were recently eaten by rats in the Santa Cruz Mountains."

  Summerlin hesitated. "Oh."

  "It sounded like somebody was using my technology to control the rats. My secret technology."

  "That's interesting."

  "It's more than interesting," Shipman said angrily. "What have you done?"

  "You think I'm responsible?"

  "You're the obvious choice."

  Summerlin snorted. "You're right. I stole your research and sold it to another party for a very sweet price."

  Shipman's blood was pounding in his temples. He had never been this angry in his life. He wanted to murder Summerlin.

  "In fact," the graduate student added, "this other party is very interested in meeting you. He wants to offer you a job. We were actually waiting for this kind of call."

  "You have to be kidding."

  "You'll be able to continue your research with a much bigger laboratory and a professional staff."

  "But I won't own my own work," Shipman said.

  "I'm afraid the cat, or rather, the rat is already out of the bag. My friend engaged other scientists, and they're making advancements every day. That team is passing you by. You can jump onboard or be left in the dust."

  "Who is this 'friend'?"

  "Not on an open phone line," Summerlin said. "I've probably already told you too much."

  "Then how am I supposed to meet him?"

  "Arrangements have already been made. Meet me in front of the building in fifteen minutes."

  "Hold on," Shipman said. "I never agreed to anything."

  "This is just a visit, not a commitment. If you don't like what you see, you can always go back to your own pathetic, little lab. I don't see how you have much of a choice though. How can you live knowing others are building on your work, and you're not part of it?"

  Shipman was still fuming, but he was a rational man at heart, and he knew he had few good options. He couldn't call the police. They would ask irritating questions about the rat control technology and what he intended to do with it. The authorities might even consider him an accessory to the murders because technically, Summerlin was still his employee. Shipman would have to consult with a lawyer before taking any such action.

  "Did you kill those people in the mountains?"

  "No," Summerlin said. "I'm a scientist. Somebody else did that deed for reasons I'm not privy to. Are you going to meet me out front or not?"

  Shipman gritted his teeth. "Yes."

  "You won't regret it. Bye." The phone clicked.

  Shipman went to his office door. He cracked it open and peeked outside, but the hallway appeared clear. There was a possibility the agents from the Department of Justice were hanging around. He listened carefully and heard only the airconditioner.

  He hurried out of his office and down the hall.

  * * *

  Marina frowned. She had just listened to the conversation between Shipman and his student. Min Ho had tapped the phone call using his computer, and he had played it through the speakers.

  "Call Hanley and Katie," Marina told Min Ho. "Advise them of the situation. Tell them to follow Shipman and not lose him."

  "Yes, ma'am," Min Ho said.

  She stepped back. Aaron was there, and he had a very contemplative
expression.

  "What do you think?" Marina said.

  "It seems we stumbled across a whole conspiracy," he said. "We got lucky."

  They were both wearing the gray robes of commanders, and she liked how they made a matched pair. Back in Chicago, she had been his legionnaire, but now they were on equal footing.

  "Hopefully, it's a sign this will be a quick and easy investigation."

  "We clearly need to know who this mysterious 'friend' is. He'll have the answers to all our questions."

  Marina nodded. "Yes."

  "Ma'am! Sir!" Jia yelled. "I found something!"

  Marina and Aaron ran around the tables which held the computers.

  A satellite photo of a mountainous landscape was on Jia's computer screen. Trees and bushes covered the rugged slopes. Marina recognized the cabin in the picture as the home of the deceased Dr. Midler. A black delivery van was parked on a nearby road, and the urban vehicle looked out of place.

  "That must be it," Aaron said excitedly. "Zoom in."

  Jia tapped a few keys, and the image magnified. Unfortunately, the resolution of the picture wasn't good enough to make out the details of the van. It was just a black, blurry box.

  "That's still good work, Jia," Marina said. "Well done."

  Jia smiled. "Thank you, ma'am."

  "All is not lost," Aaron said. "There's a possibility the murderer was carrying a cell phone. We now have a specific time and location. Jia, can you see if a phone was there?"

  "I'll try, sir. The cell tower logs might have that information. It will take a little work to put it together."

  "Then get on it."

  Jia began to type.

  Marina frowned. Jia worked for her, not Aaron. He was stepping on Marina's toes a little.

  She gave him a look.

  He winced. "Sorry. I should've asked you first."

  "Yes," Marina said archly.

  "I'm not used to being the commander's boyfriend instead of the commander."

  She kissed him. "You're forgiven, boyfriend."

  * * *

  Joseph Shipman shifted his weight anxiously. He was waiting in the spacious lobby of the Hediger Institute, and he wasn't sure if it was a smart decision. Summerlin had attached himself to people who were using the rat control technology as a lethal weapon. Now Shipman was going to meet those people, and the inherent dangers were impossible to ignore.

  He considered just walking away. That was the safe way out. The damage had already been done, and getting more involved might make matters worse. He should just forget he had ever spoken to Summerlin.

  Pride made Shipman stay. He refused to flinch from meeting the man who had stolen the most important thing in Shipman's life.

  A white sedan pulled up in front of the building. Summerlin rolled down his window and waved.

  Shipman glanced in all directions to check for witnesses, ran outside, and quickly sat in the car. Summerlin was a tall man who was so thin he looked skeletal. An impressive amount of wavy, brown hair went down to the middle of his back. His long beard and mustache created a matching effect on the front. He was wearing a button-up shirt which was a step above his usual cheap and casual attire.

  Shipman fought an urge to slug him, or at least, yank on his unkempt beard. Shipman was still furious. I can hit him later, he thought.

  "Do you have a phone?" Summerlin said. "Let me see it."

  "Why?" Shipman said.

  "Just let me see it! We have to follow a procedure."

  Shipman furrowed his brow and handed over his phone. Summerlin immediately tossed it out the window.

  "Hey!" Shipman said. "Why did you do that?"

  "Phones can be followed. They leave an electronic trail. If you have to carry one, make sure it's not yours."

  Summerlin drove off, and the sedan had a surprising amount of power.

  "Where are we going?" Shipman said.

  "To meet your new boss."

  * * *

  Hanley ran through the lobby and out the front door of the Hediger Institute. He watched the white sedan exit the parking lot.

  Where are you, Katie? he thought.

  A blue sedan pulled up, and Katie was at the wheel. He sprinted around and climbed in on the passenger side. She drove away even before he had time to buckle his seatbelt.

  "Don't lose them, but don't get too close!"

  "I've done this before," she said in a tone of annoyance.

  She followed the white sedan.

  * * *

  "Ma'am!" Jia said. "I found the phone."

  Marina and Aaron rushed over to the junior hacker on the team. The satellite photo of Dr. Midler's mountain cabin was still on her screen. Jia also had a page full of technical information.

  "The phone was at the right location at the right time according to the tower logs," she explained. "There is no mistake. Right now, the phone is in Cupertino, but it's owned by a woman who lives in Sunnyvale."

  "Great job." Marina patted Jia on the shoulder.

  Marina turned to Ipo and Liam. The two legionnaires were working out in the northwest corner of headquarters. They were sparring in extreme slow motion, an exercise that taught balance and body control. It was hard to hold one leg in the air for minutes at a time.

  "Guys!" she yelled. "Get over here!"

  The legionnaires immediately ran over.

  Marina explained the situation, and then said, "Get dressed and go to Cupertino. Jia will give you the exact location, but bring a portable signal detector as backup. Grab whoever is carrying that phone, and be prepared for trouble."

  "Yes, ma'am," Ipo and Liam responded in unison.

  * * *

  Summerlin glanced at the rearview mirror. "I think we're being followed. That's the third time I've seen that blue sedan."

  Shipman looked out the back window. A blue car was following about a quarter-mile back.

  They were travelling on Interstate 80 which carried most of the traffic between the Bay Area and Sacramento. It was a wide, straight highway with three lanes on either side. The car was passing through farmland at the moment, but mountains were ahead.

  "Are you sure? I don't know why anybody would follow me."

  "You talked to agents from the California Department of Justice," Summerlin said. "Right?"

  "Yes, but I don't think I made them suspicious."

  "Evidently, you did. It's OK. My boss anticipated this possibility and told me what to do."

  A few minutes later, Summerlin turned off the highway and into Fairfield. The city was on the extreme outskirts of the Bay Area, but it was still populous. Shipman guessed a hundred thousand people lived there.

  As Summerlin drove through the city, Shipman saw that it hadn't shaken off its rural origins. There was plenty of open space, and tall trees lined the avenues. Some of the yards used native plants and wood shavings instead of grass lawns.

  Summerlin parked in the lot of a gigantic Walmart. The front of the store looked like a group of red, tan, brown, and white buildings put together, but it was really a single façade.

  "We're going shopping?" Shipman said.

  "Not exactly. Follow me. We're going to move quickly."

  The two men got out of the car and hustled into the store. The vast interior stretched into the distance. An incredible variety of goods was available, including food, clothes, toys, and appliances. Everything was brightly lit and attractively arranged.

  Summerlin proceeded onwards at a quick trot.

  Chapter Six

  "Wait out front," Hanley said. "Watch their car. I'll continue on foot."

  Katie pulled up in front of the Walmart and stopped.

  He jumped out and ran inside. After some desperate searching, he spotted the subjects half-way across the store. They were walking with a quick, purposeful gait. Hanley cautiously pursued them.

  * * *

  Summerlin walked into a hair salon at the back of the store.

  "We're getting our hair done?" Shipman said.

/>   Summerlin smiled a little.

  The salon had a yellow tiled floor. Three barber chairs were in front of three big mirrors. Pictures of attractive women with gorgeous hair hung on the walls.

  Summerlin went straight to a door marked "EMPLOYEES ONLY" and banged it open. After Shipman was through, Summerlin used a convenient chain and a padlock to prevent anybody else from opening it.

  Shipman raised his eyebrows. "You really were prepared."

  "My employer is very detail oriented."

  Summerlin led Shipman through a small, dimly lit storage area. They left the building through a back door and emerged into sunlight. A black BMW was waiting for them. Summerlin sat in the driver's seat, and Shipman sat on the other side.

  "You have the key?" Shipman said.

  Summerlin pulled a key out of his pocket, started the car, and drove off. He left the parking lot using an exit behind the Walmart.

  * * *

  Hanley was staring at the entrance of the hair salon. Ten minutes had passed since the subjects had entered, and he was starting to worry. They hadn't seemed like the hair salon types.

  Hanley approached cautiously and peeked in through a window. Shipman and his friend weren't inside. Hanley burst into the salon, looked around, and spotted a back door. He ran over and tried to open it, but chains on the other side held it shut. The salon employees gave him a funny look.

  "Fuck," he said out loud. He kicked the door.

  He ran out of the salon so he could have a little privacy and called Katie.

  "Yes?" she said.

  "They gave me the slip," Hanley said angrily. "Are you still watching the car?"

  "Sure. I haven't seen any sign of them."

  "I'll be out in a minute."

  He put his phone away. Clearly, there was no point in staying in the store, so he jogged out the front. After a little wandering, he saw their car and ran over.

  Katie was sitting in the driver's seat, and she rolled down the window. "What happened?"

  "They went out the back," Hanley said. "I should've followed more closely."

  He looked at the white sedan which was parked down the aisle. He had a feeling the car had been abandoned, and the subjects had found alternate transportation.