Lessons Learned: The Flint Stryker Thriller Series - Book 1

by Allen Gregory

Sebastian constricted as if he’d been gut-punched, screaming loud enough to be heard blocks away. “YEEEAAAAAGH! OH GOD! HELP ME! LOOK AT ALL THEIR LEGS AND PINCERS!!!”

  Casting a nervous glance over his shoulder as he continued backing out of the room, the professor swallowed hard. Once in the hallway, he turned and ran as if he were being chased by unseen banshees.

  How was he ever going to find another graduate assistant after this?

  Twenty-Four

  Flint pounded on Dr. Malloy’s front door, peering uneasily at the gunk he’d deposited into the azaleas. The day had gotten considerably warmer, and the smell was pretty rank at this point. I hope that doesn’t kill the plants, he thought.

  The door swung open and Dr. Malloy was standing there, half his face covered in shaving cream, the other half obviously freshly-shaved. “Mr. Stryker! I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Come in.” He stepped back to allow Flint to pass through.

  Flint paused to look at Dr. Malloy. “So soon? What do you mean by that? I figured after this morning, you wouldn’t expect or want to see me again – ever!”

  Dr. Malloy tutted. “Not at all, Mr. Stryker. I figured that we might have, ah, come on a bit strong this morning and perhaps overwhelmed you. After all, it is a lot to take in.” He used the towel to wipe the remaining shaving cream from his face.

  Malloy led the way to the kitchen, and he turned to Flint and asked, “Care for another cup of coffee? You still look as if you have a gang of carpenters at work in your forehead.”

  Flint chuckled, “Yeah. That’d be great. I went to the gym to try and sweat some of it off. I am still a little worse for the wear. Plus, I had a run-in with Estebe Sebastian. What an asshole.” He quickly added, “Excuse my French.”

  Malloy took down two cups, filled the coffeemaker with coffee, and punched the “start” button. He eyed Flint and queried, “What happened with Mr. Sebastian?”

  “It was really strange, Doc. He came in acting all buddy-buddy, like he was trying to apologize for being such a dick, and…” He paused. “Sorry!”

  Impatient, Malloy asked, “For heaven’s sake, Flint… And?”

  “And… he tried to blow some powder into my face, and I reacted. I blocked him, and, well, he wound up breathing in and swallowing most of the powder. I guess he’s still in the workout room where I left him, wallowing on the floor, twitching and gagging.”

  Malloy looked thoughtful. “Was he still conscious when you left him? What other symptoms did he exhibit?”

  “Yes, sir. When I left, he was screaming about something that looked horrible, and he needed my help. I passed by Professor Huxley as I was leaving. Maybe he can help him.”

  Malloy handed Flint a cup. “Hm. From what you described, it sounds a lot like The Devil’s Breath, a potent and debilitating mixture made from seeds of the Brugmansia tree in Colombia. It is effective in subduing its victims quickly, and usually the effects are short-lived – typically a matter of hours. The Colombians believe it has powers to induce a zombie-like state.” He looked directly at Flint. “It sounds like Mr. Sebastian had something rather dubious in mind for you, Mr. Stryker.”

  Flint shrugged. “Well, it didn’t work and now he’s the one flopping around on the floor, isn’t he?” Flint’s face clouded as he asked, “But why, Doc? Why would he go through all that trouble to try to put me under some spell with some kind of voodoo powder?”

  Malloy sighed and motioned towards the breakfast table. “Take a chair, Mr. Stryker. I’m going to share some information with you that should answer some of your questions, and perhaps create even more…”

  Twenty-Five

  Dr. Malloy stared into his coffee cup as if he were trying to divine Flint’s fortune from its dark contents. “Mr. Stryker, perhaps I should have shared much of what I am about to tell you sooner.” Flint sipped his coffee, searching the doctor’s face for clues as to where this conversation was headed.

  “Years ago, when I was a young man much like yourself, I thought I had my future all planned out, knowing exactly what I was going to do and how to go about it. I knew I was interested in genetic research, and helping humanity solve its many problems through valid science. But…” He held the pause for several seconds. “But I also was interested in what many in the scientific community referred to as fringe science – scientific research outside the generally accepted parameters of traditional scientific study.”

  “Fringe science? Are we talking about UFOs, or inter-dimensional travel or something like that?” Flint was incredulous. “Doctor, you are just full of surprises!”

  Malloy glanced at him and continued. “Don’t be so surprised, Mr. Stryker. Many of the scientific discoveries we’ve made were once considered bizarre fantasy suitable only for science fiction. By considering the implausible, we can sometimes accomplish the impossible.”

  Flint nodded, studying the doctor’s face carefully. “So, you are a geneticist that also fooled around with some science fiction stuff? That actually sounds pretty cool.”

  “Yes, for a time it was, as you say, ‘pretty cool.’ I found myself employed by one of the leading genetic research firms in the world – Heredyne Tech. I had everything an aspiring geneticist could want: a huge budget, a company devoted to making new discoveries in the field of genetics, and a laboratory full of the latest equipment to help me get it done.”

  “That all sounds great, Doc, but I still don’t see how that puts you where you are today.”

  “I’m getting there, Mr. Stryker.” Malloy sipped his coffee. “I spent a lot of time working on the systematic analysis of genetic information to discover how genes influence the health of individuals and populations. However, I wasn’t content to simply use the same methods my contemporaries were using around the world. I was a bit, er, unusual in my approach to unlocking some of the hidden solutions I was looking for. To make a long story short, my superiors discovered my ‘non-traditional’ methods, as they referred to them, and sent me packing. Even though several of my experiments had both positive and negative far-reaching consequences, they were… ah – unwilling to allow me to continue in my present capacity. There was also the matter of a rather sophisticated experiment gone awry, but that’s a story for another day… Apparently, there was no room for what I considered ‘innovative thinking,’ but they considered junk science, in the search for new solutions.”

  “Wow,” Flint said quietly. “I guess you were pretty upset, huh, Doc?”

  Malloy looked again at his cup, “Yes, Flint, I was. There I was, unemployed, kicked out by one of the most prestigious research firms in the world because I dared to try something truly different in my approach to solving difficult problems.”

  Did he just call me Flint? He hardly ever calls me Flint. It’s always Mr. Stryker, Flint thought.

  “No matter where I went, once prospective laboratories discovered the reason for my dismissal, I was politely shown the door. It appears that virtually every company I applied to valued profit more than discovery and innovation.”

  Flint grunted. “I guess we’re not so different in some ways, Doc. Your being dumped puts you in the same boat as me, I guess. I’m sorry to hear about all that. You deserved more.”

  Malloy smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Stryker. But actually, the story takes a turn for the better there…”

  Shifting in his seat, Flint turned attentively toward the doctor. “That’s when you came to work here at the university?”

  “Actually no, that’s when I received an unexpected visit from a stranger.”

  Twenty-Six

  SEVEN YEARS AGO

  Younger Dr. Malloy sat brooding in the breakfast room of his modest apartment. Just two days earlier, he had received an unceremonious dismissal from Heredyne Tech. He could still see himself being escorted out by security, all his personal possessions in the cardboard box he was carrying. His personal papers and electronic data would be returned after the technicians at Heredyne scoured them to ensure that no proprietary infor
mation was included. “It’s just a precaution,” his supervisor had assured him.

  Disgusted, Malloy swept his hand angrily in front of him, knocking over his coffee, sending the contents of his cup spreading across the table. He sighed, rising to get the paper towels to clean up the spill.

  There was a firm knock at the door. Who could that be?

  He peeked through the eyehole, not recognizing the self-possessed-looking individual on the other side. Smartly dressed, imposing, and businesslike, the man stood rigidly awaiting Malloy to open the door.

  “Yes? Can I help you?” Malloy questioned, opening the door, looking at the man standing before him.

  “Mr. Malloy – Mr. Morris Malloy?” the man queried, searching Malloy’s face. “May I come in?”

  Puzzled, Malloy paused before replying. “Uh, yes, yes. Come in, please. Excuse me, do I know you?”

  The man stood in Malloy’s foyer his hands clasped behind his back. “No, Mr. Malloy, you do not know me. But I know you. Rather, I know of you.”

  Intrigued by the man’s brusque manner, Malloy motioned for him to take a seat. “No thanks, Mr. Malloy. I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind.”

  “Actually, sir, I’m a doctor,” Malloy pointed to the spilled coffee. “I apologize for the mess. I was just about to clean up a bit of a spill.”

  The man eyed the table, noting the box of Malloy’s personal effects from his office by the table, exactly where he’d left them two days ago. “Not a problem, Mr. Malloy. I’ll be brief. Hopefully I can get to the reason for my visit quickly and we can go from there.”

  Malloy nodded. “Again, it’s Doctor Malloy,” he repeated, clearing his throat. “Ahem, tell me, how is it that you know of me, Mr. …ah – what did you say your name is?”

  “I didn’t say,” the man asserted. “But you can call me Seven, if you like. Forgive me for not giving you a card. That’s not advisable in my line of work.”

  Taken aback, Malloy asked, “Just Seven? Nothing else?”

  “It’s much better if you don’t know any more than that,” he replied bluntly. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get to the purpose of my visit.”

  Stupefied, Malloy nodded, studying Seven’s face, “Certainly. By all means.”

  “Mr. Malloy, I represent and am part of an organization that is searching for individuals with unique talents, viewpoints, and specific skill sets to accomplish our directives and goals. Through our observations, we feel that you are such an individual.”

  His curiosity kindled Malloy shrugged. “Go on…”

  “My organization, known in some circles simply as Linchpin has been observing you for quite some time. We appreciate that an individual such as yourself is not above using less orthodox methods to achieve results and solutions, where more traditional methods have not succeeded.”

  “Observing me? What do you mean–”

  “Observing you. Watching you. Spying on you, if you like, Mr. Malloy. And we’ve been doing so for quite some time. Don’t take it personally. We do this with everyone we’re interested in. It’s what we do.”

  “Spying on me? Wait a minute – there are privacy issues involved here, sir! If you think you can get away with this–”

  “Malloy, we can get away with this. As a matter of fact, we can and do get away with this – and a whole lot more.”

  Nonplussed, Malloy could only stare at Seven as he continued.

  “Linchpin was organized almost fifty years ago by a consortium of men and women who were concerned about certain forces who were intent on undermining our government, its national interests, and the peace and security of our citizens. We prefer to remain a faceless organization, un-identified in the daily news cycle, operating in the background to offset the forces, whether they be individuals or groups, who mean us harm. This coalition has provided us with financial backing and material resources that would stagger the imaginations of many nations.”

  Seven looked at Malloy evenly. “Do you have any questions so far?”

  Opting for directness, Malloy asked, “What do you want with me?”

  “Straight to the point. I like that.” Seven cleared his throat and resumed. “Our organization obviously is comprised of some of the finest tactical and espionage-minded individuals available anywhere in the world. All with the guiding purpose of protecting the US and its security. We seek out the kind of individual that we believe you are. Your research into genetics must continue unhindered, as Linchpin believes it is essential to the betterment of society as a whole in the eradication of disease and the betterment of humanity’s future.”

  “No argument from me so far,” Mallory conceded. “When’s the other shoe going to drop?”

  Ignoring Malloy’s remark Seven continued, “What’s more, we’ve been, er, intrigued by your sideline research into the areas sometimes defined as fringe science. We believe research and discoveries made in this field are not to be taken lightly. Advances made through these sometimes nonconformist methods have real merit and have the potential to give us advantages heretofore only dreamed of.”

  Malloy was silent, digesting Seven’s monologue, his thoughts in overdrive.

  “Mr. Malloy,” Seven pressed on, “Linchpin is prepared, after some further, ah, expansive discussion, to offer you an opportunity to not only continue your work, but to expand on that work as you see fit as long as you understand the directives we set forth.” He paused briefly. “Any questions?”

  Malloy’s mouth opened, but no words came immediately. After a moment, he spoke, “I must admit, I am very interested, sir. I have so many questions I don’t know where to begin…”

  Seven allowed himself a smile for the first time since he entered the apartment, knowing that the hook had been properly set. “Well, let’s start with a question from me, then. When can you start?”

  Twenty-Seven

  Flint didn’t hide his amazement as he interrupted Dr. Malloy’s story. “You mean this mysterious group, Linchpin or whatever, just hired you on the spot, Doc?”

  Malloy studied Flint’s earnest face. “Not exactly, Mr. Stryker. There was a great deal of discussion over the next few days and weeks, but suffice it to say, it eventually led to my becoming a wholehearted part of the organization. And the rest, as they say, is history.”

  Flint gave a low whistle and leaned back in his chair. “That’s an amazing story, Doc.” Suddenly sitting upright, he asked, “So how did you wind up here at the university if you’re employed by Linchpin?”

  “It’s a good question, Mr. Stryker. As I mentioned in my story, the founding members of Linchpin represent some of the most forward-thinking and influential individuals our country has to offer. They also happen to be among the wealthiest in the world. By setting up my division in a public university, it allowed us to ‘hide in plain sight,’ as it were, but also to observe, and secure.”

  “Observe and secure? What does that mean?”

  “Public universities in the United States are the primary locations for some incredibly bright and ingenious minds in our society. Unfortunately, they are also the breeding grounds for some of the most disruptive, destructive and chaotic individuals and groups as well. I think it goes without saying that colleges and universities, in addition to educating our young people, are responsible for fomenting anarchy as well. Linchpin’s presence on campuses around the country serves as a counterbalance to the forces that wish to do our institutions harm.”

  Thunderstruck, Flint stuttered, “W-wait, are you saying Linchpin is on every college campus throughout the country?”

  Laughing, the doctor replied, “Not at all. We only have assets on the campuses where there is an unacceptable level of threat to our nation’s principles. On those campuses, we have assets in place to offset the influence of groups who wish harm to our way of life and recruit other assets who can be a part of something bigger going forward.” His eyes glittered as he looked squarely at Flint. “Like you, Flint.”

  Scoffing, Flint
shook his head. “No, no, no, no, Doc. Not like me. I’m not the kind of person that Linchpin is looking for. Believe me, I’m the last guy you’d want on your team.”

  “Believe me when I say, Mr. Stryker, there are organizations on campuses throughout the nation that do not have the same beneficent purposes as Linchpin. They have a network much like ours, perhaps not as centrally organized, but nonetheless as focused. Their primary objective is to undermine the very fabric of society. They wish to generate chaos and set the stage for violence and societal collapse, creating a world where money and power are used to destroy humanity rather than build it up. All under the guise of egalitarianism and social justice, while setting themselves up as the final arbiters of what constitutes ‘equality.’”

  Flint scoffed, looking at the doctor warily, “Doc, I’m not sure I understood everything you just said, but if I understood half of it, it sounds really bad.”

  “Mr. Stryker, it is bad. But it is not new. Since the dawn of civilization, there have always been those who would disrupt societies for their own wicked purposes. Trust me when I tell you, that there are some very unusual organizations and individuals out there operating under the radar that are doing some very bad things. Conspiracy theories notwithstanding, those who wish to function in the light must constantly combat the darkness – it is the way of the world.” He looked at Flint. “Mr. Stryker,” he began softly, “the offer still stands to join Linchpin and realize your full potential.”

  Flint looked past the doctor out the breakfast room window at the deepened late afternoon shadows. He cocked his head and spoke. “Doc, that is one of the most incredible stories I’ve ever heard. The most amazing thing to me is, I believe every word of it. I think you’re really what you say you are, and I believe that Linchpin is what you say it is. But don’t you understand? I’m not cut out to be some secret agent, some James Bond-type guy saving the world, killing people, and having hot women crawling all over him…” Stryker paused, giving that last statement some thought. “Anyway,” he continued, “I’m not your guy. I don’t think a-a,” he winced, “a loser like me is what your organization needs to succeed.”