by Nick Thacker
“Correct.”
“Which means… you’re thinking they’re testing —“
“I’m not thinking, Ben. I have proof. My research in the division just before I left was related to all of this; I just didn't know it at the time. Researching serums and chemical compounds that would help the spinal column of a vertebrate animal heal, discovering and testing new medicines for the treatment of mortal lacerations, all of it. I had no idea it was for this, until right at the end. My husband and I were able to put the pieces together. He died because of it. And that’s why I want to take them down.”
Ben sucked in a deep breath, a quick, sharp inhalation. He held it. Looked around, then leaned close. Exhaled, then met her eyes.
“If — what you say is true, if you’re telling me right now is actually what’s going on there, then… I’m in.”
She nodded. “It’s true, Ben.”
“My team back home will want to know. They’ll need to verify it first, but… if you’re telling me what’s actually going on there is…”
“Go on, Ben.”
“If you’re telling me that they’re trying to do this — experiment… the thing they’ve done to Apollo — on humans, then I’m in. They must be stopped.”
She met his gaze and held it, their eyes locking. “They must be stopped.”
14
Dietrich
“Hello?” Roger Dietrich said, answering the phone. It was a single word, and yet he knew it sounded abrupt. Good, he thought. Very well. He was growing quite tired of these ‘check-ins,’ and even more tired with his lessened role in it all.
“Yes, hello. You have met with the team?”
“More than once,” Dietrich answered, rolling his eyes. He looked out the window, seeing the beautiful snow-riddled landscape of Grindelwald and the nearby foothills of the Alps. It was truly a striking, remarkable locale, but he had seen plenty of beautiful, striking locales in his time.
“And?”
Dietrich clutched the phone tighter with one hand and squeezed his other fist into a white-knuckled ball with his other. I don’t have time for this, he thought.
He took a few deep breaths before answering to calm himself down. He was typically an impatient man; he hated waiting on anyone with lesser intellect. Still, he knew his tendencies were against reacting in a rash, thoughtless manner, but lately his ability to withhold his impatience was growing thin. He had trained his entire life to keep these sorts of emotions in check, and he needed to tap into his vast reservoir of practice and study now.
“And what?” he asked, still unable to hide the annoyance in his voice. “We met, we discussed deliverables and expectations, and we are prepared to move out.”
“I see.”
He shifted in his chair. He was sitting in the lobby of the small hotel, one of the only buildings in the town that looked as though it had been built this century. He knew the history here — he had done his homework long before allowing the division to be built out here in the middle of nowhere. He knew that Grindelwald was part of the Canton of Berne, Switzerland, and that it was an ancient city — first inhabited during the Neolithic Age.
But he wasn’t here for the history. He had a job to do, and these check-ins were growing mundane. He understood that the company expected him to find its asset, and that the stakes on this particular mission were high, but that didn’t negate the fact that he often worked alone toward this goal. He preferred working alone.
Hell, he was best when he worked alone.
Lars was a good man, and he enjoyed his work with him, but Dietrich had no plans to be his assistant forever. Dietrich was capable of not only carrying the company on his back, he was capable of furthering his own plans at the same time.
And every now and then, a job would appear that was simply too lucrative to the company to turn down.
The type of job Lars couldn’t know about.
Dietrich wanted the money, but as much as that, he wanted the thrill. He’d been doing this job for too long. The corporate espionage, the logistics, the research, the planning — all of it was part of the game. He lived for the game.
“Is there anything else?” he asked, already knowing the answer. Just because these calls had grown redundant didn’t mean the company wasn’t still seeking out new information to pass along. They were efficient and brutal in their effectiveness. He had to admit that, and if he were honest, he respected that about them.
They wouldn’t call for no reason.
“Yes,” said the voice on the other end of the phone. “There is new information.”
“What information? Can you just email it?”
“We already have, but I want to ensure that it reaches you directly as soon as possible.”
“I see,” he said. He’d always hated the types of people who would send an email and then immediately walk down to his office to see if he’d read it yet. This was the virtual version that, apparently. “And what is this information?”
Bureaucratic annoyances aside, anything that required both emailing and calling him directly meant that it was likely mission-critical information.
“You met with your team today, correct?”
“Yes, I already said that.”
“And you are prepared in every way?”
“Again, yes.”
What is the point of this? he wondered. They were conversing in his native tongue — German — and he thought of a slew of German insults, but held his breath instead of speaking them aloud.
There was a pause.
“Yes, well, there has been an, uh, alteration. In mission parameters.”
He appreciated that this man was attempting to communicate using terms that sounded militaristic, but it was still annoying. Especially since neither he nor this person had ever served.
“Fine. What are the changes?”
“There is now third-party involvement.”
“What is that supposed to mean? I am not here to play tour guide.”
“I am hoping you can nullify their involvement.”
Dietrich paused. Waited a moment. Then another. Calm down, he willed himself. Just breathe. “What is that supposed to mean? ‘Nullify their involvement.’”
“It means I am authorizing any and all force necessary. This third party — a group of at least two, I believe — is not, under any circumstances, to be allowed to discover any information regarding EKG and its interests.”
“Right,” he said. “Okay, you’ve got some prying eyes. I can prevent them from prying. But you sound like a lawyer now, and I don’t feel like calling mine. Can you dumb it down for me?”
“I am authorizing the use of full force — any and all necessary — to stop this group from trespassing on company land. Any information they are able to extract while on our grounds is cause for their immediate termination.”
“That’s… very clear,” he said. Except that we have already sent most of the guards away. “Thank you. And who exactly is this ‘third party’?”
“I am unsure of the exact personas involved, but they are with a group calling themselves the CSO.”
“CSO?” he asked. He’d never heard of them before. Must be a new security firm.
“Based out of the United States. The Civilian Special Operations.”
15
Ben
Ben pressed “END” on the iPad’s screen and looked around to make sure he had everything he would need. After connecting with Julie and Mrs. E through the secure network calling app Julie had installed on his iPad, he’d suddenly felt better about Mrs. E’s offer to secure some weaponry for the field.
He had been instructed to visit a local hunting outfitter; Mrs. E had set up an appointment for that morning when he would be introduced to the owner and his nephew. The nephew, a young man by the name of Clive Vanderstadt, would be going with him. He was a reputable hunter and outdoorsman from the area, and Mrs. E assured Ben that he would be a good asset to have out in the wild.
Ben wa
sn’t sure how “wild” they were going to get, as it seemed the hike over the ridge from the village to the edge of EKG’s property was fewer than ten miles. Still, he didn’t turn down the support.
And he certainly didn’t turn down the offer for the elder Vanderstadt to supply him with what Mrs. E had described as a “military-grade rifle.” He would get the details later, and stock up from Vanderstadt on whatever else they needed.
He was shaken up a bit about the young woman’s disappearance. The young woman was pretty, smart, and well-liked in the community. It seemed unlikely that she would have been involved with thugs or any less-than-reputable folks, especially in a place like Grindelwald.
While Grindelwald was a tourist town, inviting people from all over, the core population was made up of the steady, consistent type of people Ben knew well. They seemed to all know one another, and any disputes between residents were usually resolved in-person and without much fuss. The local police had an easy job; most of their days were spent directing traffic at busy intersections or passing out parking tickets to rented tourist vehicles.
But Julie had told him about something else that she’d discovered: Alina’s disappearance wasn’t the only one. In the past month, there had been three strange disappearances. It had taken a bit of digging — Grindelwald wasn’t often in the Swiss national news — but Julie had uncovered a case two weeks ago of a man who had gone missing. He was somewhat of a nomad, living in and between nearby towns without much to his name, and he was normally seen around Grindelwald for a few weeks at a time before disappearing again to another nearby town.
But no one in Grindelwald had seen the man in months. After leaving the town of Lütschental and heading up the highway toward Burglauenen about three weeks ago, he had never appeared in Grindelwald. The townspeople had talked and called around, but the man seemed to be gone.
A week ago a dog had gone missing as well. A Bernese mountain dog owned by a family in Grindelwald had posted signs everywhere in town. The dog hadn’t returned home after a day in the open backyard, and the owners were distraught. The dog was too young to have wandered off and too old to have gotten lost.
Alina’s disappearance combined with the lost dog and homeless man gave Ben a bit to worry about. He was pretty sure EKG had nothing to do with any of the cases, but what Eliza had told him the previous day about the company and their research was still weighing on his mind.
There was something going on at that company, and he wanted to find out what it was. He wanted to bring them to justice, to allow Eliza to do her job and bring attention to their research and to the proper authorities. If possible, he wanted to shut it down.
There was a road that led to EKG headquarters, but it would be a huge risk to use it to gain access. There were multiple guard towers and camera surveillance along the three-mile route, as the company’s access road that split off from the single-lane highway nearby was completely located on EKG land. Besides that, there were two rows of razor-wire fencing on the front side of the building, situated like two large rectangles with — again — more guard towers.
The map view Julie had sent him was enhanced far more than what the typical consumer-grade satellite imagery would pull up, so he had scanned through the images to determine the best entry point. If they wanted to remain stealthy and under the radar, their best option would be to travel over the back areas of the region, staying along the ridgeline until they reached the edge of EKG's land. The forest would provide plenty of cover, but there had also been reports of guards patrolling this land as well.
Which meant they’d need to be armed.
Still, Ben felt like the best option was to travel this route, staying hidden in the trees until the final stretch, then using wire cutters to gain access to the grounds. After that, they would need a good bit of luck and some skill to get into the building itself.
Ben adjusted his shirt and pressed his palms down the front of it. He didn’t bother looking in the mirror as he left the room — he knew what he looked like, and he knew he wasn’t bleeding. Nothing else could be done about his appearance. He’d never been vain, and he’d never cared much for appearances. Julie seemed to think he was good-looking enough, and that’s all that mattered to him.
He pulled his large frame through a door barely tall enough to walk through without ducking and plodded down the stairs and out the front door of the inn. So far, Ben loved this little town, but he got the feeling it had been built for smaller people.
The outfitter was off the main street, but it was still only a three-block walk from his hotel.
The morning air was crisp and delicate, and it smelled faintly of apples. He wondered how this place hadn’t been completely consumed by outsiders, turned into a living postcard. He assumed the winters must have been brutal enough to keep away all but the most determined settlers.
The mountains, craggy and pointed, rose up and towered over the town in the distance. It reminded him a bit of his own home, back in Alaska, the tips of the peaks covered with snow, then dark gray bare rock until the mountains rounded and touched the ground, where trees and foliage sprung up to fill every cavity and patch of earth.
The walk was indeed short, and Ben pushed the door of the outfitter’s open, a bell jingling above the door frame.
“Hello!”
He was greeted in English, and Ben waved at the large, jolly-looking man stacking boxes against the far wall.
“You must be Mr. Bennett,” the man said, his German accent as thick as his gut. “I am Olaf Vanderstadt.”
Ben nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “I hope this is okay, coming in before you’re open.”
The man dismissed the statement. “Nonsense, young man. Anyone who’s a friend of Hugh’s a friend of ours.”
Ben frowned, not realizing this man was friends with Alina’s father, the innkeeper. I should have known, he thought. “Right — well, I’m hoping we’ll find her out there.”
“My boy will be there to help,” Vanderstadt said. “Clive!” he shouted over his shoulder.
A spitting image of the large, round man, though much thinner and younger, appeared from a back room. He smiled and nodded at Ben as he walked over. His gait was angular and forced, like a grasshopper trying to walk on its back feet. He was thin but not ungainly, with a head of light-brown hair that was combed to the side.
His face was smooth, with a day’s worth of stubble covering a broad chin. Ben thought the man looked like a fresh military recruit — strength hidden beneath innocence, potential yet unrealized.
He strode up to Ben and extended his hand. The force of the man’s grip nearly crushed his, but Ben only saw genuine kindness in his eyes. “Good to meet you, sir,” the kid said.
Ben laughed. “Please, no ‘sirs’ around here but your uncle, yeah?”
The older Vanderstadt chuckled. “No ‘sirs,’ in that case. I’m much too young and spry to be a ‘sir.’”
“I was told by your team that you are… looking for something out there?” Clive asked, tossing his head a bit to motion over his shoulder. It was in the direction of the mountains Ben knew were looming over the town — the direction of EKG’s land.
“Well, we’ll be looking,” Ben said. “Though I’m not sure for what. I’m assuming some light rifles, possibly sidearms, things like that?”
Clive and his uncle looked at one another, and the older man nodded. Clive walked briskly over to the front door and flipped the sign so that the side that said “CLOSED” pointed out toward the street.
“For this, my friend,” Vanderstadt said, “we must come to the back of the store.”
16
Ben
Ben wasn’t sure if it was illegal to buy and sell firearms here in Switzerland. Every country was different, but in his experience, in one way every country was also the same: if you had money, you could find just about whatever you wanted.
It appeared to be no different in the town of Grindelwald, as the Vanderstadt men had led Ben to
a small, closet-sized space off the back of the main store. It was the same room Clive had appeared from earlier, and stepping down the single step into the room, Ben looked around.
Shelves, full of boxes and crates of gear and supplies for the store, rose along two of the walls. A window sat at the far side, but curtains had been drawn to cover the interior of the room from prying eyes. Another row of shelves lined the wall below the window.
On the opposite short side of the room to Ben’s left sat an old wooden desk. It was about six feet long and three deep, and on top of it sat a couple of boxes and gun cases.
“Your contact tells me she prefers you are better armed than you might think necessary,” Olaf said.
Ben smiled. Sounds like Mrs. E, he thought.
“This is a Heckler & Koch HK416N, used by the Norwegian Army. I am also including an Aimpoint CompM4 sight and a vertical foregrip — you can remove it if you’d like — as well as four additional magazines of NATO rounds. It is heavy, but you will be traveling light otherwise. My son can carry additional gear as well, if necessary. You will each carry one of the rifles, and you will have this —“ he pointed to the smaller case — “as a sidearm, just as you have requested. H&K USP.”
“Ammunition?” Ben asked.
“For the pistol, a few magazines. 9mm, so they are light.”
“Very good,” Ben said. “How much?”
Olaf Vanderstadt frowned. “I do not understand.”
“Money,” Ben said, waving his hand over the cases. “This stuff costs money, right? You’re doing me a huge favor, and I want to make sure we’re taking care of you as well.”
Olaf’s eyes brightened. “Ah, yes. Your contact has already arranged for the payment. Please, let us not talk of money.”
“Instead,” Clive said, appearing next to Ben, “let us discuss the plan. You are here to examine the grounds of EKG Corporation, no?”
