by Bob Mayer
Riley shook his head. “No.”
The detective slumped back in the car seat. “Holy shit,” she muttered. She stayed silent for a few moments before finally turning back to Riley. “So, you’re army, Special Forces?”
Riley nodded.
“And these things beat you and your men down there in that park?”
Riley nodded reluctantly.
“Then how the hell do you expect to catch them up here?”
“Because we didn’t know what we were up against in Tennessee. I was lied to, just as you were lied to by me. And that’s why I’m telling you the truth now. My men are here in the city. First sign of the Synbats, we’re going in hard.”
“First sign will probably be some dead bodies, if what you say about these things is true,” Giannini said.
“I know that,” Riley replied.
The lieutenant turned to Merrit. “You made these things?”
Merrit didn’t hear her; she was lost in her own thoughts. Giannini repeated the question.
“I was part of the team that developed them.”
“Jesus Christ!” Giannini exploded. “What the hell were you thinking when you did that?”
Merrit turned away and stared out the window. “I’ll pay for it,” she whispered.
“That’s not the issue right now,” Riley interceded. “The fact is that the Synbats were created and they’re out here in the city somewhere.”
Giannini sighed and sank back in the driver’s seat, peering out the windshield. “All right. I can’t tell anyone that I know this, right?”
“If you do, you’ll be out of circulation as soon as Lewis finds out,” Riley said.
Giannini considered that for a few moments, then switched tack. “You think the gorilla that stole the shopping cart might’ve been one of your creatures?”
“It’s possible,” Riley answered. “It’s also possible that the man was just drunk.”
“What would they want a shopping cart for?”
“I don’t know,” Riley said. “But I guess we’ll find out. Sooner or later they’ll kill, and you’ll hear about it. Then we go in and nail them.”
Giannini looked at him. “And what if you don’t? Huh? What if you don’t get them, and they multiply?”
“We’ll get them,” Riley insisted.
“Uh-huh.”
6:45 P.M.
Outside the windows, dusk was settling over the city. Riley had dropped off Merrit at the command center an hour ago and checked in with Lewis. They’d found no sign of the Synbats during their daylight covert search. Riley had continued on down to police headquarters on State Street. Giannini greeted him with the news that there was no news.
“I’ve checked everything. Nothing that could be your creatures.” Giannini looked up at Riley from the police reports. “Let me ask you something.”
“What?” Riley replied warily.
“The feds lied to you — just like you lied to me, until I got on your case. Now you’re up here trying to clean up this big pile of shit these same people laid in your lap.” She rubbed a hand wearily across her forehead. “And you said you’ve been doing this for a long time and this isn’t the first time you’ve been involved in something like this. Right?”
“Yeah,” Riley admitted.
“So why are you doing it?” Giannini demanded. “Why are you doing this? I don’t know you, but I get feelings about people. You have to, to be a good soldier. And I feel that you’re a good person. You wouldn’t have told me what’s going on if you weren’t. So why are you still doing it?”
Riley crumpled up the plastic coffee cup he’d been holding and threw it into the overflowing trash can. He sat down in the old wooden chair and propped up his feet on the scarred front end of Giannini’s desk. “I do it ‘cause I think I’m reasonably good at it. The places I’ve been and the things I’ve done — someone’s had to do it. I like to think I do it better than some yo-yo who would get his people wasted.”
“You could’ve been good at something else besides what you do,” Giannini said quietly.
“Yeah,” Riley admitted. “But the army got me off the streets of the South Bronx. All my buddies from school — and I’m talking grade school, “cause most didn’t make it to high school — they’re in jail, dead, or might as well be dead. But I got a ticket out. The army’s been good to me. 1 got a high school diploma and an associate’s degree from the army. I’ve been able to travel all over the world and—”
“Visit exotic places, meet interesting people, and kill them,” Giannini cut in.
Riley sat up in his seat, his dark eyes meeting hers. “Yeah, I’ve heard that crap before. And I’ve done it. But let me ask you something. Have you ever lived in a foreign country?”
“No,” she admitted.
“Well, I have. I’ve been all over the world. I’ve seen a lot of countries, and the people in them. And the people — they’re not so different. People are the same everywhere. There’s good ones and bad ones. Most just want to live their lives without the government fucking with them.”
The front legs of Riley’s chair hit the floor with a slam. “Yeah, this is total bullshit — tracking down these Synbats. The fact that they were made. The fact that they tore apart a bunch of people, including a young girl. Yeah. All right. I agree. But what do you want me to do? Overthrow the government?
“I’ll tell you one thing — one thing I truly do believe,” he continued. “We live in the greatest country in the world. Yeah, we got our problems. Who doesn’t? The world’s a fucked place. You’ve walked the streets. You know what people are capable of. Doesn’t it follow that some of these people end up in the government? But people like me and my team and the thousands like us make up for the occasional sociopath who makes it to the Beltway. I have to believe that. It’s all a balance of powers, right? So far, it seems to have worked all right.”
Riley stood. “You got to believe in something. Right now we have one goal: Kill these things as quickly as possible.”
Giannini stood also. “I’ll help you find them. You kill them.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Saturday, 11 April
CHICAGO 9:04 A.M.
Riley took the portable phone from Lewis’s hand. “Yeah?”
“We got something.” Giannini’s voice was calm.
“What?”
“A cable company crew is missing.”
“Missing?”
“They were supposed to be in by six last night. They didn’t show up. Two men.”
“Where were they?”
“One of our units found the van — no sign of the crew. Indiana and Cullerton. Near where we were yesterday. We’ll go there. Be at my office in fifteen minutes.”
Riley hung up. Lewis was hovering nearby. “What’s going on?”
Riley took a second to collect his thoughts. He remembered the van outside the deli yesterday and the pieces fell into place. “They’re underground.”
“What?” Lewis asked, confused.
“The Synbats are underground,” Riley repeated, slamming the 14- round magazine into his pistol and sliding it into his shoulder holster. “We’re going to need night vision goggles. Thermals probably won’t be worth much down there. I’m going to check it out. I’ll give you a call to bring in the rest of my team if it looks like a good lead.” He turned to Merrit. “You ready?”
“Yes.”
Riley wasn’t too sure of that. Merrit looked exhausted, her face drawn from lack of sleep. He was used to working with people on the edge of physical exhaustion but there was something in Merrit’s manner that worried him. Whatever was draining her went beyond the physical.
As they walked out of the building, Riley turned to Merrit. “How good is the Synbats night vision?”
“Good,” Merrit replied.
“Good?” Riley repeated, grabbing her arm. “Ward said they were day creatures. What exactly does good mean?”
“About three times better than human,�
�� Merrit answered, looking down at Riley’s fingers pressed into her arm.
“Great,” Riley said, releasing his grip. “Just great.”
9:55 A.M.
Giannini pointed at the open manhole with a portable work railing around it. “The shift chief says they were supposed to be down there laying cable. Should’ve been back in by six last night. We got the call early this morning.” She turned to the vehicle parked nearby. “No sign of foul play. The van was unlocked and their tool belts are missing.”
“Anybody been down there yet?” Riley asked.
Giannini shook her head. “No. The shift chief wanted to go look but I sent him home. I figured I’d give you the honors.”
Riley got on his knees and stuck his head in. “What’s down there?”
Giannini shrugged. “Sewers, I guess.”
All Riley could see was a metal ladder descending into a dark shaft. “Let me borrow your flashlight.”
Giannini went to her car and returned with a large four D-cell light. Riley turned it on and pointed it into the manhole. The ladder continued for about thirty feet and ended on a dirty concrete floor. There was no sign of the cable crew.
Riley looked at Merrit. “What do you think?”
Her eyes were fixed on the dark hole. “It makes sense. It’s a perfect place for them to hide. They can stay down there during the day and come out at night to forage for food. They can also travel underground without being noticed.”
Riley swung his legs over the edge and put his feet on the rungs.
“What’re you doing?” Giannini asked.
“I’m going to take a look.”
“Alone?”
“You can come,” Riley replied.
Giannini sighed. “All right. You go first.”
“I want to go,” Merrit said suddenly.
Riley looked at her briefly. “Not right now. We’re just going to check it out. If we spot anything we’re going to have to call in some help.”
“You need me to deal with the Synbats,” Merrit insisted.
Riley tapped the pistol in his shoulder holster. “I can deal with them. You wait here.”
Riley clambered down the ladder, the echo of his movements bouncing off the walls. He reached bottom and looked around. A tunnel, about eight feet high by four feet wide, extended off in two directions. The walls were pitted concrete. Giannini came down next to him and peered about. “They could be a long ways from here.”
“Yeah.” Riley pointed at the bands of cable stretching along one wall. “But the two men must have been working somewhere close by. If the Synbats attacked them, we should see some sort of sign.”
Riley’s pistol was in his hand and Giannini pulled out her own. He played the light on the floor, which was covered with patches of mud. “There,” he said. Two sets of footprints moved off to the left. “Let’s go.”
Riley led, feet squishing into the black ooze. The glow of the flashlight preceded them by only ten feet, leaving the rest of the tunnel in darkness. Something glinted up ahead, and Riley focused both pistol and light on it.
“What is it?” Giannini hissed.
Riley moved forward, pistol at the ready. A work helmet with the cable company logo lay on the floor along with a wrench. Riley played the light around, checking out the area. He stopped in shock. “Jesus Christ!” he muttered. “You don’t want to see this,” he said to Giannini as she stepped up next to him.
She pushed forward. “What?” When she saw what he had found, she froze, then took several deep breaths to get herself under control. What remained of the two workers was little more than two severed heads and a pile of intestines and bones. Their slashed uniforms were stuffed behind the two heads, which stared with unseeing eyes, the faces fixed forever in an expression of terror.
“What did those things do to them?” Giannini demanded.
“The Synbats killed them and then butchered them for the meat.” Riley moved the flashlight to the left. The familiar tracks of the Synbats showed clearly in the mud, along with four straight lines that disappeared down the tunnel.
“Those are the Synbats’ tracks.” Riley squatted down. “The straight lines must be the shopping cart. Two men — two sets of marks. They killed the two men, cut them up, then loaded up the shopping cart. They had to make two trips to get it all.”
“Goddamn,” Giannini muttered, her eyes riveted on the remains. “Goddamn.”
“Let’s get back up top,” Riley said, grabbing her arm. “We need more firepower before we go down that tunnel.”
11:30 A.M.
Giannini had the street cordoned off, and Riley’s men were crowded in the back of the large truck parked next to the manhole. Merrit stood alongside Riley as he briefed the team.
“We’ve got a definite set of tracks. Trovinsky, I want you up front with me. We’ll all wear night vision goggles. Strict noise and light discipline: I want to kill them, not scare them off. Remember — they’re armed.”
Riley pulled a small foil-wrapped object from his pocket. “We’re going to mark our route and each other using IR chem lights.” He cracked the package and pulled out the light stick, which in the dim light of the truck showed nothing. Using the night vision goggles, though, the chem light would show up brightly. Riley looped a piece of cord through the hole at the end of the chem light and slung it over his back. The rest of his team did the same. “That will mark you from behind. Make sure you turn on the IR light on your NVGs. That will mark you from the front. I want everyone to stay tight. You see the Synbats, shoot to kill. We’ve got to get all three adults. Any questions?”
There were none. Riley pointed at Merrit. “You stay right behind me.” He looked out the back of the van and saw Giannini leaning against her car, out of earshot. She had been shunted aside by the colonel upon his arrival, and had not taken it very well. “Let’s do it.” Riley hopped off the back of the truck and headed for the manhole.
At the bottom of the ladder, Riley waited while the other seven members of his team and Merrit climbed down. Earlier Lewis’s men had removed the remains of the two cable company men in body bags.
As the team gathered round, Doc Seay tugged on Riley’s sleeve. “What do you think?”
“About what?” Riley asked.
“Are we going to get them all?”
Riley peered down the tunnel. “We’d damn well better.”
Riley looked around — everyone was in place. Trovinsky quickly led the way down the tunnel, following the twin set of wheel tracks. Riley followed right behind, feeling hemmed in and vulnerable. Their numerical advantage — just a little more than two to one — wasn’t going to help much in these tight quarters. Technology wasn’t going to be much of an advantage either. They had the goggles, but if Merrit’s information was correct about the Synbats’ ability to see in the dark, then the goggles were more of an equalizer than an advantage.
The tunnel curved to the right and Riley splashed through the thin layer of mud, eyes on Trovinsky’s back. The point man’s head was down, watching the tracks. Despite their best attempts to keep quiet, the noise of the team moving through the tunnel was easily audible. They came to the first junction — a tunnel cutting at right angles across their front. The tracks turned left. Riley cracked an IR chem light and left it at the intersection, marking the way back.
Something glinted in his goggles directly ahead. Riley tapped Trovinsky on the back, halting him. “Cover me,” he whispered.
Trovinsky moved over to the far right side and knelt on the scum-covered floor, ignoring the goo that soaked through his pants. The rest of the team spread out and waited. Rifle at the ready, Riley advanced. The object slowly took form in his goggles — the missing shopping cart. He halted briefly and carefully checked out the area. The tunnel continued on as far as he could see. Near the cart was what appeared to be a crack in the wall, about two feet wide and starting two feet up, extending to the ceiling.
Riley stepped next to the cart; the metal on the
bottom gave off a sheen of dried blood. He stopped and listened carefully for about thirty seconds. The only sound was the nervous movements of the members of his team behind him. He leaned forward and, weapon first, peered into the crack. It widened to about a yard and went straight down twenty feet. There were no rungs on the sheer concrete wall. The bottom was another concrete floor, in a small alcove that appeared to open off to the left. No sign of the Synbats.
Riley turned and gestured with one hand. Doc Seay shrugged off the small daypack he was wearing, pulled out two lengths of rope, and came forward, handing them over. Taking the shorter, twelve-foot length, Riley quickly fashioned a field-expedient Swiss seat, wrapping it around his legs and waist. He unzipped a snap link from his combat vest and looped it through the rope at the front of his waist.
Riley then tied off the longer rope to the bottom rail of the shopping cart and wedged the cart lengthwise against the opening. Stepping over the cart, he clipped the long rope into the snap link on his Swiss seat, looping it once around the metal. He leaned back, one hand holding the long rope tight against his chest, the other holding his M16. With a nod to Seay, he pushed his hand away from his chest and descended in short bounds, reaching the bottom in a few seconds.
Riley quickly knelt at the bottom and scanned. He was in a small chamber, about five feet around, with an opening directly in front of him. There was no sign of the Synbats other than some dark spots on the dirty concrete floor, which Riley surmised were blood. Pulling the end of the long rope free of his snap link, he edged forward and looked through the opening. Another tunnel stretched off to either side. It was in a horseshoe shape about seven and a half feet high by six feet wide. On the far side, large conduits and cables, held in place by metal stanchions, ran the length of the tunnel. The walls were made of crumbling concrete and the floor was concrete, occasionally covered with damp dirt. A smell of decay was faintly noticeable in the air.
