Son of Cerberus (The Unusual Operations Division Book 2)

by Jacob Hammes

  She glared menacingly at him. The clerk blushed and went back to his crossword puzzle. She could feel him staring, though he seemed much less menacing than the man outside. The feeling that person had given her was something like fear, though possibly because she couldn’t see him rather than the fact he might be dangerous.

  Amy made her way to the back of the store, trying hard to find a way to distract herself. There were magazines about fashion and health, neither of which concerned her. Regardless, she picked one of the magazines depicting a woman in a bathing suit and started thumbing through.

  The bell at the front door rang again and the man in the broad brimmed hat came in. With laser guided precision, he headed straight to where Amy was trying desperately to act as if she didn’t exist. He was taller than her, though he had kind blue eyes. The way the man looked at her made her feel somewhat comforted.

  “You’re a long way from home, little one,” he whispered in the same Spanish she knew, shocking her to the very core.

  “I may be,” she answered shakily, thumbing one of the magazines in front of her. “What do you want?”

  “I want nothing of you,” he continued, facing the magazines instead of her. “I’m here to help you. I’ve been waiting for hours outside in the darkness, wondering if you were ever going to come out of that hospital room.”

  He had been waiting for her. Why he was waiting at all was the only thing Amy could think. Why would a man wait for her at the bottom of a building instead of trying to come up to her? How could he have possibly known that she would leave?

  None of it made any sense.

  “You must come with me,” he whispered kindly, extending a hand. “If you ever want to see your family again, you need to get away from this place. There will be more men out to find you, and they will not let hospital security guards get in their way. Only I can protect you from the men who are trying to find you.”

  Amy felt something in her stomach rise up. She suddenly had the very strong urge to vomit. Not only had this horrible situation been thrust upon her shoulders, but now she had to make choices that could lead to something worse than what she was already suffering through. She remembered the doctor, the kind nurse, and the police. They all seemed to genuinely want to help, yet this guy was feeding her information that didn’t make any sense.

  The urge grew stronger inside her. She felt the bubbling of bile and old lasagna rising up through her esophagus. She wanted to lie down and wake up in the arms of someone who loved her. Amy wanted to be herself again.

  Tears welled up in her eyes.

  It was then, when she was on the verge of doubling over, that she saw the faintest glow of a face in front of her, hiding in the shadows of the magazines. It was the face from her dreams, smiling at her. It mouthed something at her, something kind. It was telling her this was the right choice.

  She swallowed hard before she was able to stand up tall again. Since she had come to this new world, completely confounded by how she had even arrived, she had felt nothing but confusion. Now, looking past the stranger to the face, smiling at her from what were surely the inner recesses of her mind, she felt a small comfort. Something inside of her, the only thing she could be sure existed, was telling her she was making the right decision.

  Maybe this guy could help her get her life back.

  Chapter 8

  “Strange,” Julie said over the phone. Marcus had made sure to call her from the office to let her know how late he would be working, and then again in the morning to prove to her just how true it was. From the mysterious box to the near kidnapping of the woman, then her mysterious disappearance later that night, Marcus had experienced more that day than he had in a while. Julie had since been informed of everything he didn’t deem too inappropriate. After all, the only thing that was considered confidential was the box.

  “It was pretty strange,” he said between yawns. “But there’s nothing more we can do right now. The woman is missing and the local authorities are going to have to deal with that. Perhaps maybe even the FBI. I don’t really know what else there is we could help with. We’re not into the whole tracking-possible-victims thing.”

  “Well that means you and I can get our weekend away after all?”

  Marcus felt his stomach jump a bit. He hadn’t been giving the weekend much thought. The box and its strange effects had been forefront in his mind since his encounter on the dock. The idea of going off on a weekend with his significant other made him antsy.

  “I wouldn’t get my hopes up,” Marcus admitted. “With a case like this, something could come up on a second’s notice. That being said, if nothing does come up, you pick where you want to go and we’ll make it happen.”

  Julie couldn’t help smiling. Its infectious glow could be felt through the phone and Marcus knew she was happy.

  “I’ve got a few ideas in mind,” Julie answered modestly. “I’m just pulling into work, so we will have to talk later.”

  “Sounds good,” Marcus said, taking another swig out of his coffee mug. It had been a while since he pulled an all-nighter. The fatigue he felt was very real and he couldn’t help wondering how Gregory did it so often.

  What made it more amazing was that he had a good twenty years on Marcus, yet never showed the slightest bit of worry or fatigue.

  “Bye, bye lover,” Julie said before hanging up. Marcus rubbed his eyes again, trying to piece together what he would be doing to help on this case. The woman who had been aboard the ship didn’t say a thing about what she had seen. She had been completely useless. Now, the box was down with the world’s best analysts and completely out of Marcus’s hands.

  It meant that, as field agents, Marcus and his team didn’t have anything they could do. Sitting with their thumbs up their collective butts didn’t sit well with them.

  Marcus was awakened by a mousy female employee in a white button down shirt. She smiled with too-red lips, yet her bright green eyes were genuinely nice. Her hand on his shoulder was soft and she spoke even quieter.

  “Mr. Constantine,” she said hoarsely. “Your boss, Mr. Scott, has requested your presence in the conference room. He says you should be there as soon as possible. Apparently you have a very important visitor.”

  Marcus looked around the room, trying hard to keep his eyes open. They felt as if the lids were made of sand paper. A quick glance at his watch told him he had been asleep for just over an hour. One of the perks of working for the UOD was that they had exclusive rights to the best break room an employee could ask for. Dimly glowing ceilings changed colors and even had constellations, the recliners vibrated… Marcus had fallen asleep in no time.

  He thanked the employee before standing on two unsteady legs to head to the conference room. Though he hoped it was a new break on the case, he doubted it would be.

  Row after row of employee-filled cubicles greeted him as he walked the length of the floor. He could see the usual—people working to keep the world safe. Unlike the movies, the task of keeping evil off the street was a hefty one. It required thousands of people, from engineers to analysts, field agents to linguistics professionals, to keep it running. Marcus was glad he had fallen in where he did.

  The doors to the conference room slipped easily open. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and strong perfume greeted him. He couldn’t care less about the perfume, yet the coffee called to him. He needed it like the blood flowing through his veins.

  He nearly had to wipe the drool from his mouth as he approached the coffee machine.

  The entire gang was present. Phillip hid behind his dark glasses and Stephen rested his huge shaved head on top of his folded arms, but at least they were there. The only ones that looked as if they had slept the entire night were Brenda and Gregory. Gregory was an omnipresent accessory in the office. Though he wore the same clothing he had the day before, he was bright eyed and ready to work. Brenda, on the other hand, was clean and crisp. She wore new clothes, had obviously bathed, and sported a new pair of sp
ectacles that made her even more alluring than usual.

  The ‘special guest’ was none other than Lambert Fredrickson. The old man, who looked a bit like Colonel Sanders at the moment with his perfectly round spectacles and gray facial hair, sat where Henry usually did; right near the pedestal that Gregory used. A cane was grasped tightly in his right hand and his very clean brown suit and tie were pressed to perfection.

  A man stood quietly behind him, though Marcus had no idea who he was. His face was soft, kind, and not a day over thirty years old. The pinstripe suit made Marcus wonder whether or not he was a driver for the elderly gentleman, yet something about the way he stood made him think security instead. He also wore spectacles over dark blue smiling eyes.

  Marcus made it a point to ignore everyone but his boss as he poured himself a cup of coffee in the awkward silence. Without cream or sugar, he started slurping on it loudly as he made his way to his own seat.

  “Are you ready to begin, Mr. Constantine?” Gregory grumbled, trying hard to keep the anger inside his stomach from burbling over.

  “Quite,” Marcus said, rubbing his eyes heavily. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Fredrickson.”

  “Likewise,” Lambert answered. His voice was soft and elderly, just as Marcus remembered.

  “We’ve obtained quite a bit of new information on the mechanism we retrieved off the ship,” Gregory started without preamble. “Inside the box was a crystal that we think may have been acting as some sort of oscillator.”

  “A timing source?” Phillip asked. Overhead, a picture of the crystal popped up on four televisions. The crystal was burned quite extensively, though it was still obviously a large jewel.

  “That’s what we’re thinking,” Henry said from the end of the table. He didn’t look happy to be there, either. “Sort of like how quartz is used in a watch. Though we’re obviously not sure, that would seem like a good bet.”

  “But why does a weapon like this need a timing source?” Marcus questioned loudly.

  “We’re not sure,” Gregory admitted. “What we are sure of is that this crystal is pretty unique. Its chemical makeup comes from a very particular part of Nigeria. Most importantly, it comes from a mine that was abandoned once the jewels were found to have severe deficiencies. They’re brittle, crack easily, and have a rather cloudy look which makes them nearly worthless.”

  “Neat,” Cynthia said grumpily. “So what does this have to do with anything?”

  “It comes from a mine I’ve invested in,” Lambert chimed in. “Myself and four other investors went in together on this mine some decades ago, hoping we could dig past the poorer quality gems and hit pay dirt with diamonds. Unfortunately we were all mistaken. We wrote the mine off as a loss some ten years ago and haven’t returned since.”

  “That’s a neat story.” Cynthia couldn’t keep the quiet frustration from her voice. “What good does it do to know that one rogue stone got away and ended up in that crazy machine we confiscated?”

  “Would it interest you to know that six missionaries were just recently evacuated from an area very close to that mine?” Gregory answered harshly. “Would you be happy to know they all exhibited the same symptoms as the people on or near the dock the day that ship rolled in, or would you care to go home and take a nap?”

  Cynthia rubbed her gloved hand, chagrined that she had been admonished by her superior. Instead of responding to his remarks, she asked another question.

  “What relevance does this have to the case?”

  Gregory exhaled clearly. He was obviously without a clear answer. Knowing him, however, he would have a plan very soon.

  “It appears we might have something to research, at least,” he admitted. “Though I would hate to send you to a country without protection like I have before, it might prove useful to get some insight into what’s going on out there.”

  “And why is Mr. Frederickson here?” Stephen asked. “You didn’t bring him down here to sit in on a meeting. What’s the idea behind all this?”

  “I was the one who called your office,” Lambert answered. “I heard through some of my sources that something quite mysterious happened. Obviously I looked into the problem myself and found out a bit of information. Since then, I’ve been doing some independent research.”

  “So you’re telling us that you were the one who brought the mysterious missionary mishap up to Gregory?” Brenda asked.

  “No,” Gregory answered. “We pay analysts to dig this sort of information up. Apparently we don’t pay you enough, however, because all of you missed it. The story about the missionaries hit the news a few months ago and no one would have been the wiser without this mysterious ship showing up out in the harbor.”

  With everything sorted out and a boss that was obviously not in the mood to joke around, Marcus sucked his teeth in contemplation. He had heard all about the mayhem in that part of the world. Things had been relatively quiet for the last few years, save for the on-again off-again wars and outbreaks of deadly diseases, the insurgent activity, the one or two mass genocides, and an onslaught from one of the largest terrorist cells known to man. Even the extremist movements hadn’t successfully broken into most of Africa, simply because of the remoteness of the tribes and the ever-changing political arena.

  “We should go check it out,” Marcus finally said. “We should make an appearance. We have all been trained extensively in the art of insurgency, so this might be our chance to test it out. All we need is a little bit of direction from Mr. Frederickson, a few days at most, and all of our equipment. We could be in and out without a whisper. Hell, we could pose as missionaries and figure out exactly what’s going on.”

  “Maybe gun-toting missionaries,” Phillip said humorously. “I’m not stepping foot in Africa without a gun.”

  “I would advise against that,” Lambert said. “I don’t think you going there in person will solve anything. You only risk harm to your agents, or loss of life. There are no easy routes in, nor are there any saving entities that can come rescue you if you get in trouble.”

  “We can take care of ourselves,” Cynthia said coldly. “If we needed help, we wouldn’t be the UOD.”

  “How about I propose an alternative,” Lambert went on. “I am heavily invested in that region—why don’t you let me send some of my people in to investigate? Perhaps I could even acquire the full spectrum of tools you currently utilize.”

  “I’d rather go myself,” Marcus grumped out loud.

  “You’d rather go on an expedition to Nigeria?” Lambert stopped the grumping with a louder-than-usual tone. “You want to chance the various diseases, drug cartels and blood-diamond tycoons, warring factions and malaria? You think you would like to deal with the fact that militants roam the countryside looking to scoop up people like you to ransom for a pretty penny? I have faith you could, Mister Constantine. My real question is why you would want to? Don’t you have a woman you’d rather be with?”

  Marcus looked around the room. Everyone was keen on the conversation now. Even Phillip had drawn his shades up on top of his dark brown hair so his red-rimmed eyes could see more clearly. Apparently Marcus had piqued everyone’s interest.

  “A little over a day ago, this mysterious ship rolls into a Jersey harbor,” Marcus started. “It had a whole bunch of dead bodies on board and was emitting some sort of radiation that made everyone but ol’ David here feel like they wanted to crawl out of their own skin. One girl survived, but she’s gone missing already. The only lead we have on this case lies in Nigeria now.

  “It only feels right that we spend at least twenty-four hours of our lives to fly there, check this place out, and fly back. It’s not mere coincidence six missionaries had to be evacuated with similar symptoms from a place that the crystal in the crazy box was mined from. It’s even stranger that you’d come to us with new information while asking us to sit this one out…”

  Gregory shifted uncomfortably behind the podium. He didn’t enjoy listening to his head agent
bring up such good points as to why they should risk their lives again. He wasn’t entirely against the idea of them checking the mines and the surrounding area out in person, he just didn’t want to take unnecessary risks.

  Lambert looked simply baffled. He didn’t know how else to plead to the agents that they should not be risking their lives when he had people on the ground who could get the same job done in half the time. After all, he had proven himself useful in the past with their biggest case yet. Since then he had shown them new caches of artifacts and even helped them bust a few bad guys.

  He groaned at Marcus like a man who knew defeat was just a moment away.

  “If you’re going to push the subject, Mister Constantine,” Lambert croaked, “you should consult with your boss before we delve too deeply. What-if’s are simply that—the possibility of something happening that has not already come to pass.”

  It was the moment everyone had been waiting for. The anticipation the room seemed to have gone from nothing to as thick as butter in no time flat. What started with something of an explanation had now turned into a cockamamie scheme to trek across the globe.

  Everyone wanted to go.

  “There’s an extremely small amount of supporting evidence,” Gregory admitted. “You’d be going to Nigeria hoping to find something you’re not at all sure exists. Along the way, we would be using government resources and taxpayer money to fund you. You’d need transportation, in the form of a jet and some sort of ground transport, too. You’d also need to be working in secret. If anyone catches you, you don’t belong to us.”

  “It’s our job,” Brenda said bluntly. “It’s why we’re funded—to protect the United States and the people of America. If we can stop this terror weapon from spreading, why wouldn’t we go?”