Son of Cerberus (The Unusual Operations Division Book 2)

by Jacob Hammes

  “So what’s that mean for us?” Henry said, somewhat astonished at the findings.

  “Well,” Sheila said quietly, “this was the same man who bought the patents, helped purchase land in Nigeria, and who seems to be the very first case of a man with used-up organs. He died two years before the doctor—also a contributor toward purchasing the patents.”

  The room quietly pondered over the information. No one had an answer, yet all of them were thinking something similar. It was Henry who broke the silence, rubbing his mutton chops tenderly as he thought.

  “A parasite,” Henry asked. “A parasite that was introduced into the first victim through his injury and has since transferred bodies to keep itself alive? Do you remember when we went to see the girl? She had bandages covering wounds on both arms. The doctor said they had been doing something, intravenously, to her on that ship. I bet that has something to do with it.”

  “The wounds also match up with our mystery man on the yacht,” Cynthia added. “He had puncture wounds on his forearms from what looked to be an operation of some sort.”

  “The swap took place intravenously?” Henry asked out oud.

  “How?” Cynthia asked. “This would be a huge discovery for mankind.”

  “Scary,” Marcus said. “It would mean that a bacterium, or whatever might be transferring from person to person, is capable of snatching bodies?”

  “But what about all the other cases you’ve uncovered with these wrinkled up, diseased-looking organs?” Cynthia said, bringing another light to the situation. “There have been dozens that you know about. What about the cases we’ve never heard of? There could be thousands, hundreds of thousands, of people that have gone unnoticed.”

  “If this thing is transferring bodies to keep itself alive,” Gregory whispered, “who knows how long it’s been around.”

  “A newly discovered organism,” Henry announced.

  “That’s what it seems,” Sheila said, excitedly.

  “Yes,” yelled Phillip. “Real life goddamn zombies, finally!”

  “Let me play out a quick scenario for you,” Sheila said, obviously not amused with his joke. “You own a utility that allows drinking water for thousands of people to pass through it. Maybe this parasite can be injected in through that water. At the same time, you perfect one of those crazy machines. Maybe you make it capable of affecting an entire city. Unsuspecting victims drink the water, become unknowingly infected, and go about their daily lives. One day, when the time is right, someone flips the switch on one of those machines, making everyone who has ever been affected into something else. They might seem the same, but a few years down the road their organs give out and they die, all the while doing whatever it is they have been programmed to do.

  “We could be looking at the world’s deadliest, most sinister weapon.”

  “So shut it,” Gregory pointed at Phillip, who had taken his sunglasses off of his bloodshot eyes. “This is not a case of the walking dead. It’s much deeper, much more dangerous than we could ever imagine. If this is true, we’ve got more than some box to worry about. We could be looking at the most intelligent, the most deadly, the most frightening biological weapon ever conceived. Anyone might be vulnerable. Hell, we didn’t even know it existed until this very second. Even now, it’s just conjecture.”

  “We need to get that girl,” Marcus said. “If she has been around every time that machine has been used and has some strange connection to the very first victim, then all roads lead to her. We find her, we get our answers.”

  “But how?” Henry said. “New York has a couple dozen people living there; it might be hard to find one little girl amongst the other eleven.”

  Everyone looked crossways at Henry. His grin showed that he had fully recovered from his near-drowning and had been invigorated by all this work.

  “We’ve got a few options,” Gregory said, hoping he could still their anxiety a little. “We can wait for these guys in the NSA to find out more information, or we can reactivate without their knowledge. I have been given a government order to operate outside the bounds of conventional law enforcement—I think it’s time we use that order.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” David said, smacking the table. His usually clean face was also full of stubble. “It’s time we step up and put these body snatchers down.”

  “What’s the plan?” Marcus said, hoping to instill some semblance of order. “I mean, have you thought of a plan yet?”

  “That’s why you’re here,” Gregory said seriously. “You’ve got more experience with this case, collectively, than all the analysts in this place. We’ve been trying to figure out what has been going on for days now and we are still no closer to the end than when we started. I want you all to figure out a plan and propose what we should do. I’m going to pitch that plan to the NSA guys next door. If they don’t go for it, we’re still going to do it. All we need is a guarantee that this information isn’t some half-hatched plan regarding willow wisps and fairies.”

  Sheila, the analyst who had been helping them so much the last few days, looked mildly indignant. She smiled as best she could and patted her files, hoping to let Gregory know she was in the room. Gregory didn’t care, though. He told the truth, regardless of who it hurt.

  “It’s not,” Sheila said adamantly. “You can guarantee this information is correct. There’s something transferring bodies within these victims.”

  “Good,” Marcus said coldly. “So we have even more reason to go after these guys.”

  “Indeed,” Henry said. “So much so that the fate of all humanity might once again rest on our shoulders.”

  “Don’t be dramatic,” Phillip said, hurt that Gregory had put his zombie dreams to rest again. “It’s not like the thing is killing people outright. It needs us to live. Now, what sort of plan are we allowed to put together for this?”

  Gregory smiled slyly. He had been hoping something like this would happen his entire career. Though he didn’t relish the thought of breaking protocol, he knew it was a necessary evil. Gregory would put his people to work, regardless of the consequences for him and his job.

  “Well,” Gregory started off slow. “We know that pieces of material sent from Nigeria have been making their way to the West Coast. Washington is one location we’re going to need someone to check out. The other group is going to need to get to that apartment building in New York and investigate the area. I’ll bet we can find some clues as to what’s going on up there.

  “I don’t care how you split the teams up, but you’re going to need to hurry—we need to act before the NSA guys figure out what’s going on. I’ll have a helicopter ready to take some of you up north while the others are going to have to figure out a way to get to that little town in Washington via public transportation. I’m pretty sure our funds will have been cut by then, so no personal jets for you. Besides, we’re only investigating. Hopefully we won’t find anything as dangerous in the United States as you did in Nigeria.”

  “Not like you’ll find car bombs or C4 vests,” someone new said.

  The door opened, interrupting everyone in their tracks, and two men in suits walked in, unannounced and uninvited. They were the men from across the hall—resentful, angry, and determined. The National Security Agency representatives had obviously been snooping on the conversation the team was having and were there to break up the party.

  The shorter of the two shut the door and adjusted his tie.

  “You’re thinking of going after these guys,” the taller of the two said. His name was Mark, or Dan, or Bill…something Marcus could never remember.

  “We’re not thinking,” Gregory said, quietly. “We need to protect the innocent, just like you.”

  “Were you spying on us?” Marcus asked, a grin crossing his face.

  “We listen to pretty much everything that happens in here,” the taller of the two said, smiling. “Don’t take it personally, it’s our job after all.”

  “So y
ou’re here to stop us?” Cynthia said, tightening the glove around her wounded hand.

  “Not exactly,” one of the agents said. “Quite the opposite actually. We don’t have any jurisdiction working outside the law—you do. You have been given this special ‘clearance’, if you will, and you have yet to abuse that clearance. Fortunately for you, it’s not going to be required. Since this last incident with the machine, you’ve been temporarily reinstated on one condition—investigation only. Leave the physical stuff to the police.”

  “You need to figure out exactly what’s going on with this case,” the shorter one cut the taller man off. “If there is some strange parasite out there infecting God-knows how many people, we need to know about it. This will make for a report that will end up rocking the ages.”

  “Hah,” Gregory scoffed. “You want us to figure out what might be infecting people and turn the data over to you so that you can get the glory?”

  “You’re not out for glory, are you, Greg?” one of the agents asked. “Last I checked, you were sworn to secrecy. Everything you do is kept silent. What’s your motto again? Silent Guardians?”

  “Something like that,” Henry said from behind Gregory. “But we still like a little recognition.”

  “You’ll get it. Trust me, you’ll get it. From the president himself, I’m sure. We are just going to ensure that none of this spills out into the public eye. We don’t want every single person in the United States worried they might contract some body-robbing conjunctivitis.”

  “So what do you need?” One agent cut the other one off again. They were so in tune with each other, neither of them batted an eye at being cut off.

  “How about warrants to search any and all of Lambert Frederickson’s properties?” Gregory said slowly. He was unsure whether or not to trust the NSA agents after all they had just told him. “That would be a good start.”

  “Done,” the agent said. “Anything else? You were right about the transportation, by the way—corporate jet is off limits until this investigation officially closes.”

  “I guess we could go for a few plane tickets, too,” Marcus answered. “And some good scotch waiting for us when we get back.”

  The taller man smiled. Though he wore his black suit and tie well, Marcus wondered just how old the man was. At first glance he seemed to hover around thirty-five to forty years old, but as Marcus really looked at him he realized the agent must be years older. He put him at fifty-five minimum. Maybe it was the stress that was making him seem much older than he actually was, but he looked worn.

  “You’ll have what you need in a few hours,” he answered in a cool voice. “Be safe and remember that this operation is basically a spy mission. We have told you time and time again to stay in D.C. It’s not our fault you decided to go on a rogue mission without us.”

  “Listen,” the smaller NSA agent said, pulling his tie down into the deep recesses of his big jacket. “We’ve put you back on the case, but had to pitch the idea to our boss like you’re only investigating the recurrence of the Cerberus machine in Manhattan. You’ll be watched, I can guarantee that, but as long as you just stick to the investigation and let the local law-enforcement deal with anyone you uncover, we’ll all be fine.”

  “Just remember,” the other guy said, “if the bullets start flying, you’ll most likely lose your job.”

  Chapter 19

  Brenda had been in surgery for hours. Her first surgery happened only minutes after she had arrived in the hospital. The second one was not too long after the first, and now she was in for a third. Stephen couldn’t go in with her, but the doctors had said that her chances of living went up every minute she was alive. He had only ventured out of the hospital once since her admittance and that was to get a pack of cigarettes and a flask of Jack Daniels. Both ended up in the garbage after just a few pulls, but Stephen couldn’t help himself. He was truly distraught.

  This is why he had never loved anyone before. With his past as a Navy SEAL and his present with the UOD, Stephen had experienced nothing but risk his entire life. He was good at quite a few things, killing being up there at the top of the list, but loving such a gentle woman had never been his best attribute. The way she looked at him at night made his heart swoon, or the way she pulled her hair back over her perfect ears.

  He had loved rubbing her feet. If she went on a particularly long run, or had a hard day at work, he would be there to rub them into lumps of goo. She never said how much she loved it, unless she mentioned it in jest, but sometimes she would force them into his lap and make him do his thing.

  Now both of those feet, plus one leg that had been so damaged it was nearly completely gone from mid-thigh down, were gone. Not only that but her arms and parts of her torso had been severely burned. She had also lost a pinkie finger and broken a wrist.

  Stephen nearly smashed the doctor when he had said how bad the damage was. He wanted to hurt something, wanted to smash through the wall and find the man responsible for this mess. He would wrap his hands around the guy’s neck and never let go. Unfortunately, there were no leads on who had set the explosive off, or even who had planted it. The security cameras pointed in the right direction, but the recording was so bad no one could make out any movement that would suggest someone planting an explosive.

  Now all Stephen could do was walk back and forth to keep from vomiting his last meal up. Brenda, the only woman he had ever even attempted a relationship with, was quite possibly lying on her death bed.

  His phone vibrated. A quick look at the display showed that Marcus was ringing. He couldn’t stomach any more calls of sympathy, or people trying to figure out how well she was doing. He pressed the ‘ignore’ button and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

  A second later the phone buzzed, signifying that he had a text message.

  “We’re back on the case, incognito. If you want revenge on the guys who did this, maybe you should come with us. We could really use you.”

  Stephen clicked his tongue. How could Marcus ask something like this from him? He knew how much he cared for Brenda. Why would he ever leave her side?

  On the other hand, he could fulfill his wish and wrap every single one of his fingers around someone’s neck and wring him dry of life. He had a hunch the man responsible was Stewart. All he had to do was beat a confession out of him and then he could have his revenge.

  He gritted his teeth and clenched the phone.

  He had been expecting the doctor for hours now and just then he emerged through the double doors and into the waiting room. He had a solemn look, as he always did, and hardly relayed any expression as he walked. His outfit was comprised of khakis, penny loafers, and a brown button-up shirt. His moustache was perfectly shaped to droop at the corners of his mouth beneath his large nose. Soft eyes held Stephen with regard.

  “Sir,” he announced himself in a calm voice. “I’ve got some great news for you; it’s something you’ll most likely be wanting to hear right away. Miss Vaughn did very well in her surgery today. She’s been in the recovery room for a little over an hour now. Her blood pressure has stabilized and the majority of her injuries have been repaired. She will have a long road ahead of her, and she is expected to have upwards of a dozen more surgeries in the next few weeks, but we’re confident she is going to survive for a very long time. I think I can safely say she’s out of the danger zone for now.”

  “Is she going to wake up anytime soon?”

  The doctor shifted uneasily. He didn’t want to upset the massive Stephen for many reasons. Only one of those reasons was because of his imposing size.

  “She’s going to be kept in a drug-induced coma for at least another day or two. We still have some rewiring of arteries and minor blood vessels that we have to do later on today, and then there are the skin grafts that she is going to require.”

  “Why keep her sedated then?”

  “Because of the intense pain she will be feeling if we wake her up now,” the doctor explained gingerl
y. “Protocol dictates that we get as much of her put back together before we wake her up, which we’ve done. We will bring her out of the coma tomorrow evening, but only for a brief time. This ensures that the coma she’s in is not induced by her injuries, but by what we’re giving her.”

  Stephen was frustrated. The news that she would live was great, but now the doctor couldn’t even tell him if she would wake up, only that she would live. He cursed out loud and grabbed his bald head with both hands.

  “You know,” the doctor said, putting his hand on Stephen’s heaving shoulder, “some people find relief from this sort of pain if they keep their mind occupied. If you have the opportunity to go back to work, read a book, see a movie, or anything else you enjoy, you should. That way you won’t be pacing back and forth in a waiting room, driving yourself mad.”

  “What if she wakes up while I’m gone?” Stephen said, forgetting what the doctor had just told him. “What if I’m not around when she opens her eyes?”

  “You’ll get a phone call before we wake her up,” the doctor reassured him. “You’ll be here, and so will the rest of her family. I know they’re on their way right now, so trust me when I say that she will wake up surrounded by loved ones.”

  “Do you think she will have any memory loss?”

  “It’s a possibility,” the doctor shrugged. “She didn’t suffer any severe brain injuries other than a good concussion. I think she will wake up tomorrow with a good idea of who you are. From what I’ve read of Brenda, I think she’ll remember a good deal of the events leading up to this mess, too.”

  “And what about her feet?” Stephen growled. “Any hope that she will ever walk again?”

  “She may walk again someday, but only with the help of two prosthetics. She lost most of one leg, up to mid-thing, and the other just past her knee. That may change if infection decides to set in—another reason we have to keep her sedated.”