by Laura Taylor
Before they’d left, she’d given him a long hug and told him sharply that she expected him to come back alive. He’d looked her in the eye and told her to be careful, and then said, “Thank you. For everything. For not shooting me, and for converting me, and believing in me. For everything. And no matter how this turns out, I’m grateful that I got the chance to put a few things right.”
Stationed a few blocks away, Caroline, Andre, Raniesha and Kwan were waiting with the motorbikes, armed with guns and grenades, and ready to unleash hell on the complex, should anything go wrong.
“We’re up,” Baron announced, then shifted into wolf form and crawled inside a large cardboard box. Miller did likewise, waiting while Silas closed the box and taped it shut.
Miller listened to the dim noises that followed, the shuffling of equipment, the slam of the car doors, and then he felt the van lurch as Simon started the engine and headed off. A minute or two later, they came to a stop, and Miller held his breath, knowing they had reached the security gate at the entrance to the Noturatii’s compound.
Silas was in the passenger seat, his tattoos covered with long sleeves and the scar on his face disguised with an expert makeup job. The Noturatii didn’t know his face, but showing up to repair an electrical fault with a man in the car who looked like a killer for hire was bound to make things go badly.
Skip had proven her worth once again, creating a fake work order and scheduling a visit within the complex’s security files, and then ordering two new fake driver’s licences from whatever shady connection the shifters used to manufacture such things. The van had a brand new logo plastered down the side, with the name of some minor electrical company or other displayed in bold blue letters, and with a small pile of guns and ammunition stored discreetly under a panel in the van’s floor, their setup was complete.
As expected, the guards asked to inspect inside the van before letting it pass, and Miller crouched lower inside his box. It had a false top on it filled with a variety of electrical components, fuses, switches and the like, just in case anyone got curious and decided to open the box. But luck seemed to be on their side for the moment, and after a tense silence, the van door was slammed shut again.
“You’re good to go,” one of the guards said. “Here’s your security code to get into the basement, and two badges. Keep them displayed at all times, and we’ll collect them when you leave.”
The van moved forward again, and Miller’s heart rate kicked up a notch. They were past the first barrier, but there were plenty more to go before they could call this mission a success.
A few slow turns later and they stopped again, then started forward down a slope, and he had to assume that they’d made it past the gate into the basement. The van rolled to a stop, then the back door opened.
“We’re clear,” Silas said, reopening the boxes, and Miller and Baron climbed out, shifting back into human form. “No one in the vicinity. Let’s get set up.” They all donned bulletproof vests, in wolf form as well as human. Though Miller had seen the wolves’ Kevlar vests before, he was intrigued by the design, not having had the chance to examine them up close before.
Baron and Silas armed themselves with guns, ammunition and grenades. Simon took a single handgun, though if the plan went well, he shouldn’t even need that. And then Baron turned to Miller, handing him a pistol with a wary expression on his face. “I don’t have to tell you what happens if you make any bad decisions here today,” he said gruffly, and Miller nodded, not bothering to protest his innocence. They weren’t going to believe he was on their side until this was all over, and he was content to let his actions speak louder than his words.
“All right, time to lie low. Places, everyone.”
The van was parked in the corner of the basement, facing the exit so as to make for a quick getaway. Simon returned to his place in the driver’s seat, while Miller found a comfortable spot around the back of the van, where he had a clear view of the entrance, but was hidden from sight. Baron and Silas got back in the van, but left the door slightly open, so they could keep an eye on Miller, as well as the entrance.
“You know,” Simon said after a time, “it was never explained to me how we know Miller’s telling the truth about this Jacob guy. There are no photos of him, so how do we know he’s not just going to point out some random Joe and claim that he’s killed the bigwig chief?”
“Look for some ID on the body, if we get the chance,” Baron said. “Or if that fails, we’ll have to wait and see what the fallout is. If it really is Jacob, there should be some significant waves created within the Noturatii’s ranks in the next few weeks. If not, then we know we got the wrong guy.”
Simon made a speculative noise, and then fell silent again, and the wait continued.
Melissa packed up her laptop, feeling drained and discouraged at the end of another unsuccessful day. Repeated attempts at forcing the shifter to change forms had failed, and the lab team had gone back to their original data, re-examining it to see if there was something they’d missed. A technician had been called in to run a thorough screening of the lab equipment, but no faults had been found, and with Professor Banks due to leave for Germany in the next few days, they were running out of time to make any significant breakthroughs.
Further questioning of the test subject had also yielded no useful information, as, despite increasingly intense torture sessions, the man had continued to insist that he didn’t know how a shift might be triggered.
“Melissa,” Banks said, as she picked up her bag, ready to head home. “I was wondering if you might be able to come over to my apartment this evening. I’ve been looking through some of my old research, and I think I might have found some things that could help us solve this mystery.” Banks had been remarkably patient throughout the experiments, unperturbed by the lack of progress. ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day’ was one of his favourite sayings, and Melissa had tried to learn from his Zen-like attitude, taking comfort in his insistence that they would reach their breakthrough sooner or later. ‘Fortune favours the persistent’, he would say calmly, while Melissa was struggling not to throw things across the room at their repeated failures.
“I’d love to,” she said, in reply to his invitation. “Anything that can give us some new ideas is worth looking at.”
“Excellent. Just give me a few minutes to get my things together, and we’ll be off.”
Ten minutes later, Melissa was seated in one of the most luxurious cars she’d ever been in. Banks had been given the use of a Mercedes for his visit, and he handled the powerful car like an expert. The corners were smooth, the gear changes almost undetectable, the engine a soft purr that sounded more like a cat than a car. The seats were leather, and Melissa tried not to stare at the decadent interior.
Banks was staying in an apartment complex about half an hour from the base. The Noturatii owned several such complexes, designed to provide secure housing for the more senior members of the organisation and temporary accommodation for any visiting dignitaries, and Banks had been given a small flat in the same building as the one Jacob lived in. Melissa had never been there before, but had heard reports that it was a five star setup, complete with a gym and an indoor swimming pool. It would be interesting to see it in person. And to imagine where she might be living, once she got a few solid scientific discoveries under her belt and started getting the promotions she firmly believed she deserved.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your experimentation technique,” Banks said after a few minutes. “Not so much about the details, but about the way you look at the bigger picture. You’re a very intelligent woman,” he said, glancing sideways at her, and Melissa couldn’t help but glow under the praise. Banks was one of her heroes, and his acknowledgement of her hard work was vastly encouraging. “And you have an eye for detail,” he went on. “A thoroughness that anticipates every problem we might encounter. But there is one thing you are missing, which could perhaps be holding you back.”
“What’s
that?” Melissa asked, both eager to hear how to improve herself, and dreading the criticism.
“Imagination,” Banks said. “You approach every task as if the only purpose of it is to reach the stated goal. Now, don’t get me wrong, pursuing the goal is important. But if that’s all you’re doing, you’re missing out on the other possibilities of your work. Sometimes you need to step back and think ‘what else could I learn from this experiment?’ Something completely unrelated to the task at hand.”
He glanced over at her, and must have registered the baffled look on her face, so he explained himself a little better.
“Let me tell you something: in my laboratory in Germany, I have a wall of shelves. And these shelves are full of jars. From each shifter that has died in my lab, I have taken specimens. A wolf paw in one jar. A human heart in another. A jaw bone, or a knee joint… Why, you might ask? No reason but curiosity. After each shifter died, I took the time to dissect them. I was not looking for anything in particular. I thought I might find anatomical differences between shifters and natural wolves. Or indications of disease processes on their internal organs, perhaps. But in real terms, I did not have a specific goal for that part of my work. I was simply curious, like a child who tips baking soda into a bottle of coke, just to see what will happen.
“You’ve been feeling discouraged from our failure to achieve our goal,” he said, giving her a sharp look, which made her feel like a child being scolded. “But stop to consider what else we have learned in the process. We have a wealth of data on the process of shifting. We have a better understanding of the drug doses needed to sedate shifters. We have learned which restraints are useful on them, and which are not. Keep all of these things in mind, as you go about your work. And you never know when something will pop up that answers a question you weren’t going to ask for another three years.”
“I’d love to see your office,” she mused wistfully. “I hadn’t thought of dissecting them. I’d assumed they’d just be like normal wolves, once they were dead. Or normal humans.”
“And this is why you must learn to be more curious about the world,” Banks said, apparently pleased with her enthusiasm.
“I will be,” she promised. “Anything, if it gets us closer to winning this war.”
From his hiding place behind the van, Miller watched as a silver BMW pulled up at the security gate. “That’s Jacob’s car,” he hissed, drawing his gun. Baron had made it clear that taking out Jacob would be Baron’s job, but Miller wanted to be prepared.
Baron was on his feet in an instant, Silas a silent shadow behind him.
“His parking spot is halfway down the row,” Miller told them, “so we should get a clean shot when he walks to the elevator.”
Baron didn’t reply, but raised his gun, staying hidden in the shadows of the van, and aimed for the car. There was no sign of any security guards, and they were hoping that the combination of the silencer on the gun, and the dulling effects of the concrete walls would stop any sound from being heard above ground.
Jacob parked the car exactly where Miller had said he would. He took his time getting out, opening the door, then fishing around for his briefcase and a bag of groceries. Miller watched the whole time, feeling strangely numb about the whole thing. This was the man who had recruited him into the Noturatii, the man he’d worked under for years, the man who had masterminded a great many hideous and vengeful strategies against the shifters. And the man who had also treated Miller with the utmost professional respect and consideration. He’d been uncertain what he would be feeling when this moment came, whether it would be a deep regret for ever having met the man, or a wistful sadness and guilt that he was betraying someone who had done so much for him. But now that it had come to it, he found that all he felt was relief, like a bad nightmare was about to end, and he would finally be free to wake up and get on with his life.
Jacob closed the car door and locked it, the bright flash of the indicator lights threatening to reveal their position for a moment… if Jacob had been looking this way. But, confident in the complex’s security measures, he was paying little attention to his surroundings, and he strode towards the elevator, oblivious to the presence of four would-be assassins, stationed only metres from him.
Baron lined up the shot, his attention sharply focused. He waited until Jacob cleared the line of cars, held his breath, and pulled the trigger. Jacob went down immediately, a bullet lodged firmly in his skull as the sound of the gun echoed around the concrete walls. The bag of shopping hit the ground, a bottle of milk spurting open and sloshing all over the floor. The briefcase fell with a clatter.
Not wasting any time, Baron dashed over to the body, searching through his pockets for his ID. “Jacob Green,” he muttered, finding a security pass with Jacob’s photo on it. “Looks like you’re in the clear,” he said to Miller, hurrying back to the van. Miller and Silas were already inside, Simon starting the engine to get them all the hell out of there-
“Car coming!” Silas hissed urgently, and Miller felt a rush of dread as he turned to see that Silas was right. Another car had pulled up at the entrance, and the heavy security gate was already swinging open.
“Fuck!” Baron swore. Jacob’s body was lying in plain sight, and there was no opportunity to even attempt to hide it. Even if they could manage to drag it out of the way without being spotted by the occupants of the car, there was no way they could clean up the blood stains in time.
“As soon as they’re clear of the entrance, get us out of here,” Baron told Simon, jumping into the car and sliding the door shut. The newly arrived car was a black Mercedes, expensive, and no doubt carrying someone of significant importance. It eased through the gate and headed towards them. Miller held his breath, praying it would turn into a space before it reached-
The car jerked to a sudden stop, the brakes having been applied with startling force, and Miller knew they’d spotted the body. The passenger door opened, and… oh fuck, it was Melissa. She jumped out of the car, dashing over to the body with a cry of alarm, even while the driver yelled at her to get back inside the car.
“Go!” Baron urged Simon, and he started the engine, swinging out of their parking spot, tyres squealing. The roadway was partially blocked by the Mercedes, but there might just be space for them to squeeze past.
But not without doing some damage to the other car in the process.
The driver of the car must have realised their intention, and seen it for the threat to his life that it was. He dived out of the still open passenger door, while Melissa screamed for help. As predicted, the van scraped along the side of the Mercedes, ripping off the wing mirror and leaving deep gouges in the car. The noise was bound to draw some attention, if Melissa’s screaming didn’t, and guards wouldn’t be far away.
As they swerved towards the exit, Miller craned his neck back, and caught sight of the man who had leapt from the car. Holy hell, it was Professor Ivor Banks. He’d seen the man’s picture before on several reports, had heard the rumours that he was the most talented scientist the Noturatii had ever employed. The experiments he had performed on the shifters were enough to turn the stomach of even the most hardened soldiers, and Miller knew that taking him out would carve a greater hole in the Noturatii’s operations than even Jacob’s death would.
Simon stopped at the gate, frantically plugging in the code to open it, and the heavy gate began to swing open.
But they couldn’t leave yet. Not without taking care of that one last piece of business. Miller lunged for the door, grabbing the handle and shoving the thing open, even as Baron yelled at him to stay put.
“It’s Professor Banks,” Miller snapped, knowing the name would mean nothing to Baron, but he didn’t have time to explain himself any further. Two guards had heard the commotion, and were running down the ramp towards them. Miller dived for the cover of a nearby car, and pulled out his gun.
Baron was right behind him, gun aimed at Miller himself, so he rolled, slid in between two
cars, and fired a shot. It missed, Banks having taken cover behind his own car, but then Miller’s gaze fell on Melissa. She was young. Had been something of a friend of his, though they worked in separate departments and only crossed paths on occasion. But since he’d saved her life, back in the lab explosion, she’d seemed to have taken a liking to him. And that faint thread of friendship made him hesitate.
Melissa raised a gun she had somehow produced out of nowhere, and fired a shot at him. He swore and ducked, just in the nick of time, as the bullet caught the edge of the bonnet, where his head had been mere moments ago.
Return fire from Miller’s left; Baron seemed to have caught onto his intentions, the bullets causing Melissa to duck for cover.
“Take out the man,” Miller hissed at him.
“What the fuck are you doing, Miller?” Melissa yelled. Guards had arrived at the entrance now, with Silas and Simon working quickly to take them out. But more were on their way. “You’re on our side!” The girl didn’t seem too quick on the uptake, and Miller knew he’d have to kill her. As it stood, the Noturatii thought he was dead, and he wasn’t keen on letting them find out he wasn’t.
Another bullet came his way, the gunshot deafening, and an urgent voice came through Miller’s earpiece. “What the fuck is going on down there?” Caroline demanded. “I can hear gunshots.”
“Complication,” Silas replied, as both Miller and Baron were occupied at the moment. “We’ll let you know…”
Banks was still sheltering behind his car. No misguided heroism from him. He seemed content to take cover and wait for backup. But Miller wasn’t going to let him get away that easily. He was too important, held too much influence over the success or failure of the Noturatii’s ongoing experiments to let him walk away. And for the first time, he felt a real anger at the things that were going on inside that dark and mysterious organisation.
Or perhaps it wasn’t his own anger, he realised a moment later, but that of his wolf. The quiet, reticent animal rarely made itself known, but the cold rage at the thought of the shifters who had suffered at the Professor’s hands seemed more intense than Miller would have expected from himself.
