Harvey Bennett Mysteries Box Set 3

by Nick Thacker

  They made it to the inner airlock doors before any of the chimps seemed to pay them any attention. But when Eliza looked out, she noticed two larger males that seemed to be guarding their escape. They were blocking the outer airlock doors, and Eliza caught the eyes of the one on the left from the other side of the glass.

  She slowed her breathing, forced herself to relax. She hoped her nonverbal communication was visible through the pane of glass, but even more she hoped the chimps understood the dynamic of what was happening. We are your side, friend, she thought. She wished there was a way to get the message into the small mammal’s brain, but she knew their life was most likely going to come down to the animals’ desires.

  She was torn between two horrible alternatives: stay with the mad doctor and wait until they ran out of air or someone found them, or open the outer doors and hope for the best.

  Thankfully she didn’t have to make the call.

  “Canavero,” Ben said, turning to the doctor. “Stay here.”

  “What?” The doctor responded. “Are you insane? They will kill me. They will shred me like paper. You saw what they did to Lars — to the guards! I am not going to participate in your idiotic plan to sneak around them.”

  Ben sniffed, then handed the young woman to Eliza, who leaned against the airlock's wall for additional support. Ben walked over to Canavero; his weapon pointed directly down at the man.

  “Wh — what are you doing?” Canavero asked. He slid sideways in a pitiful attempt to get away from Ben.

  Ben sidled up next to the man, then crouched down so his face was directly in front of the doctor’s. Eliza watched on with curious intensity.

  “You’re a man of science. A doctor. The kind of guy who’s supposed to understand things like life and death.”

  Canavero sneered at him but finally nodded. "What is your point?"

  “I’m the kind of guy who tries my best to stay out of that sort of thing. It ain’t my call who lives or dies. I’ve always left that up to someone else; someone bigger than me. But the thing is, I also believe that someone gives us all opportunities. Opportunities to prove whether or not we’re worth that life.

  “You — folks like you, anyway — you’re the kind of people that make me pause. You make me wonder if it’s worth taking the high road. People like you seem to forget that there are two sides to every equation. You think you’re all about life because you understand it, what makes it tick, how to give it to other people by cutting their brains out and plopping them into someone else’s head. But you know what?”

  Canavero didn’t respond.

  “I think you’ve totally forgotten to study the other side of that life-death equation. You forgot what it feels like to die. I know what that feels like, my friend, because I’ve been there a few times. Came out of it okay, but it’s no fun to experience. I think you’re the kind of person who’s never experienced that, and that’s why you can do the kind of shit you’ve been doing here. Because you haven’t really studied the other side of the equation.”

  “Ben,” Eliza said. “We have to go. Now.” There were more chimps gathering outside the airlock, watching in on the humans as they conferred.

  Ben nodded but kept his gaze on Canavero. "You've made this really difficult for me, Canavero. I'm usually the kind of guy who wants to save as many lives as possible, but lately I've been changing that perspective to saving the right lives. Doesn’t matter how many it is, as long as it’s the right ones.

  “And people like you, who ignore the equation and try to forget that this strange, twisted form of ‘life’ you think you’re creating comes at a cost, you forfeit that right. So, no, you’re not at all part of my ‘idiotic plan to sneak around them.’ In fact, that’s not my plan at all.”

  Ben leaned back, then swung the butt of his rifle up and over his head, bringing it down violently onto the doctor’s left leg, right at the kneecap. Eliza heard the sound of bone crushing all the way from the other side of the room.

  Canavero wailed in agony, dropping the submachine gun and squeezing his hands over his leg. “You — you basta —“

  “We’re done here, Doc,” Ben said, standing up. He returned to the side of the room where Eliza and Alina were waiting, then looked at each of them.

  Finally, with his free hand, Ben smashed the red button near the outer airlock door. It slid open slowly.

  And twenty chimpanzees glared back at them, no longer separated from them by thick glass.

  64

  Ben

  Ben calmed himself down. The adrenaline was coursing through his veins, the chemicals in his brain secreting and producing all sorts of exotic compounds it thought he might be needing right now.

  In truth, he wasn’t sure what he needed. Everything was confusing; everything was strange. He was standing face-to-face with scores of apes, all watching him, all interested in what he was about to do.

  He wasn't sure how he felt about what he'd done to Canavero. He had never signed up for this sort of thing, never intended for his life to take a turn like this. And yet he couldn't argue with his decision. He wanted Canavero dead, for what he'd done to these animals, for what he'd done to humans under his control.

  But it didn’t mean Ben was the person responsible for taking the man's life. He'd wanted just to put a bullet through his head, to end it quickly, fairly even. Yet if Canavero deserved fair, he deserved a fate far worse than death. He deserved to be judged not by a jury or a panel or by Ben or Eliza.

  The man deserved to be judged by his subjects. They all did.

  So Ben had opened the airlock door, watching as the twenty-odd animals looked on at the three of them. He didn’t understand the expressions on their faces, but he had a feeling he didn’t need to be an animal behavioral expert to know the message they were trying to convey.

  This ends now.

  Ben looked at Eliza once more, to make sure she was ready, and he slid his arm underneath Alina’s to help support her once again.

  Here goes nothing.

  He swung his left leg forward and pressed it into the floor, directly over the sliding door’s threshold. Immediately the chimpanzee to his left, closest to him, bared its teeth and frowned.

  Ben stopped. He waited, but the chimp didn’t change its expression.

  Finally, Ben leaned to his side slowly, placing the assault rifle on the floor, just inside the airlock. He released it gingerly and stood up again, feeling the stress of knowing his best chance of defending himself and the others with him was now lying on the floor, out of reach.

  The chimp’s face relaxed, and it hopped sideways, out of the way.

  Ben waited for another second, but the chimp seemed satisfied, so Ben took a step into the larger room. Eliza and Alina were right there with him, but he still tensed his upper body, holding his breath.

  All throughout the room, the chimpanzees seemed to follow the cues of the first one, and they stepped or slid out of the way, clearing a path in the center of the room.

  Ben sighed a breath of relief, feeling the wave of terror subside. He walked slowly, purposefully, keeping his head up and focused on the doorway at the far end of the room.

  The first chimp watched him pass; then, just as Ben stepped forward again, it scampered toward the airlock door.

  Ben's rifle was still sitting on the floor halfway between the lab and the airlock, and the chimp pushed at it with his foot. It slid to the edge of the airlock door just as it began to close. As it did, the door caught between the magazine and stock and pressed it tightly up against the doorframe, the rifle keeping the door open about a foot.

  Ben was about halfway through the room when he turned to look back. Three chimps were working on the door, using their strength to try to force it open. It slid a few inches, and four more chimps slipped inside the airlock.

  Where Canavero waited.

  They reached the opposite end of the room safely, and Ben helped Eliza get Alina shifted around to prepare for the descent down the stairs.
She was fully lucid and even starting to put weight on her legs.

  Ben took a final glance at the doorway across the large laboratory, noticed more and more chimpanzees spilling through the crack, and saw the dark shadows of moving shapes just beyond. He didn’t hear anything — no screams, no gunshots, no hollering from the animals inside with the doctor.

  He decided not to imagine what might be happening Lars’ renowned doctor and instead focused on the stairs.

  As they climbed down over the pieces of the bodies of the guards that had tried to run, he sighed once more, feeling the weight of what they’d just been through beginning to take its toll. He needed to get to Grindelwald, to get Alina back to her father.

  And, more than anything, he needed a beer.

  The Downtown Bar still had his tab open, if he recalled.

  The Cain Conspiracy

  I

  Act 1

  1

  Derrick

  “Pull over.”

  The soldier, dressed in black, complete with a black skullcap, looked over at his commanding officer.

  “Sir?”

  “Pull over,” the man said again. His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, his own head sporting a similar black skullcap. The driver hadn’t even realized the man had seen the police lights. He was stoic, unmoving, and the driver was almost sorry he’d volunteered to drive under his command.

  Some of the other privates would have at least talked, he thought. Or at least let us listen to music.

  But Briggs was a statue, a singular piece of muscle that, to Private Jerrick Derrick, was incapable of human emotion. Jerrick Derrick, the man who had spent his life running from slights poking fun at his name, had found a relatively peaceful fit in the ranks of Ravenshadow, a private military contractor run by a man he looked up to as a mentor.

  But he felt he had a long way to go before he understood the inner workings of the group — what was appropriate, what was not, and just how far they would go to achieve their goals. It was a new form of politics Jerrick hadn’t experienced before.

  “But sir, if they see the —”

  “That’s an order, private.”

  The young driver nodded once, gritted his teeth, and slowed the vehicle. The brakes squealed a bit, the humid, damp air no doubt a factor. The massive troop transport truck veered right, its passenger-side tires finding a dip just off the side of the asphalt and melting into it. The truck’s frame creaked in protest, and he felt some of their payload shifting in the back.

  They came to a complete stop, a hiss emanating from somewhere in the depths of the engine compartment, and the driver looked again at his commanding officer. Now what? Derrick wondered.

  The police cruiser kept its siren lights on as the officer stepped out. He was doughy, fat around the waist, and looked as though he’d be better served driving a desk chair than a police cruiser.

  Derrick watched the man from his side mirror. He checked his belt, pushed in a bit of shirt that had popped free, then sauntered toward the truck. He had his hand on his pistol.

  The officer strode up to the side of the massive truck, squinting in the noonday sun, and made a motion to roll the window down.

  “Si?” Derrick asked. He hoped the policeman knew English — ‘si’ was about the extent of his Spanish.

  The officer mumbled something in Spanish. Derrick shook his head.

  “Get out,” Briggs mumbled.

  “What?”

  “He said get out. So get out.”

  Derrick was confused. “But we can’t —”

  “Get out, private. Take him around back. He wants to see what we’re hauling.”

  Derrick flashed a glance down at the assault rifle leaning against the truck’s front seat between him and Briggs. Briggs’ own rifle was in his hand. Neither was visible to the police officer.

  Derrick flicked the handle open and put a leg down on the rail. “Should I show him?”

  He watched Briggs’ face for a sign of any emotion. Is he nervous? Scared? Ignorant? Instead, Briggs just nodded. “Show him.”

  Derrick, wide-eyed, got out of the truck and hopped to the hot asphalt road. The officer was short, about four inches shorter than Derrick, and he looked up at the soldier with a suspicious eye.

  “American?” the officer asked. Of course, there was nothing overtly ‘American’ about Derrick’s uniform — all-black said nothing but soldier — but the officer obviously suspected something.

  Derrick nodded.

  The officer asked something else. He caught “donde” — where — and “porque” — why. Something else about military something or other. Derrick shrugged.

  “Su troca,” the officer said. More words. He wants to see what’s in the truck.

  Derrick couldn’t see Briggs from this angle. He hoped he wasn’t about to let him get arrested. Derrick motioned with a dipped neck toward the back of the truck. The officer put a hand out and Derrick led the way.

  There was a canvas drape covering the back of the truck. It looked like a modernized wagon, the kind used in the old west. This one, however, was dirty green and about three times the size.

  The officer stepped up to the back of the truck and Derrick could see Spanish insignia and the man’s city of origin on a badge on his shoulder. He didn’t recognize the name of the town, but he assumed it was one of the smaller cities they’d passed by on the way out here.

  And ’here,’ to Derrick, seemed like ‘nowhere.’ Born and raised in Detroit, Derrick was used to sprawling city blocks, industrial complexes, and suburban houses as far as he could see. He was used to people.

  Being out here in the rainforest, crawling over pothole-studded roads that hadn’t been maintained since they’d been laid down thirty years ago, was like driving through a whole different world.

  He took a sharp breath, watching the officer. The man still had his hand on his weapon, but it was holstered. Derrick did the mental calculus. One-half second to get it unclipped, another to get it out, then between one and three to actually flick the safety off and aim it.

  Derrick’s sidearm was under the seat in the truck’s cab, but he knew he still had the upper hand. The cop wouldn’t expect the young man to be so fast, so quick to the draw. Derrick knew he could have the officer completely subdued in under two seconds flat, as long as he kept the distance between them under four feet.

  The officer went for the back of the truck. Derrick closed the distance. The officer lifted a hand up and began pulling back the drape.

  Briggs appeared from the other side of the vehicle. He hadn’t heard him get out; perhaps his door was still open.

  The drape was pulled to the side fully now, and the officer tossed it up and over the edge of the truck’s frame, where it stayed. He looked into the trailer.

  Seconds passed. The officer didn’t move, both Briggs and Derrick now standing behind him. The policeman still had his hand on his pistol, but he didn’t try to unholster it.

  He took a slow step back. Derrick watched him carefully. He was no doubt surprised, to say the least. Confused? Appalled?

  The officer finally turned, also slowly and methodically, and faced Derrick. He saw Briggs had joined them. He swallowed, then lifted the pistol out of its holster.

  Briggs was there, fast — too fast to be real — and he had his hand lifted already. Derrick would have missed it if he’d blinked. The older soldier didn’t hesitate. He fired.

  The officer went down, a crumpled heap on the side of the road. Blood, pooling out around his head. His mouth, moving but not talking. His eyes, wide and surprised and still trying to comprehend.

  Briggs watched the man die, then looked up at Derrick. “Let’s go.”

  He turned and walked back toward the front seat.

  Derrick nodded to no one in particular, his eyes moving from the police officer to the back of the truck.

  Eyes met his. Twenty pairs of them. Men, women, and children. All tied, all gagged. Their brown, sun-beaten faces wer
e silent, their bodies unmoving.

  They watched him as he watched them. Waiting for something. They didn’t know what, and, to be honest, he didn’t either.

  So there was nothing to say. He was doing his job, that was it.

  He pulled the canvas flap back down over the rear-end of the transport truck and walked back to the driver’s seat. He pulled himself up and in, put the truck in drive, then pulled away from the dead policeman and his squad car.

  Briggs was looking out the front window, silent and stoic.

  2

  Ben

  “Jules!” Ben yelled. Then he laughed. I’m yelling for someone inside a log cabin.

  The space they were in was small, just a living room and kitchen and attached bedroom. But it was the other section, the new section, that he was yelling through. The Civilian Special Operations had contracted a new wing to the cabin, attached through the kitchen, where Ben was standing. The wing had bedrooms that could sleep 10, a full-sized commercial kitchen, and an office complex on the second floor. There was even a makeshift lounge, which was really just another bedroom they’d added a television, couch, and a few board games to.

  A woman appeared in the hallway, but it wasn’t Julie.

  “You know,” she said. “We used to call her ‘Jelly.’ She ever tell you that?

  Ben’s mouth was a hard line. “No. No, she didn’t.”

  “Well, anyway,” the woman said. “‘Jules’ never seemed… right. Just didn’t fit, you know?” Alexis Richardson stepped up to Ben and reached up to fix his bowtie. “Don’t worry, Harvey,” she said. “I’ll fix this. No reason to bother Julie with it.”

  Ben sidestepped and ducked out of her reach. “No, I can tie my own tie. I wasn’t… that’s not what I needed.”