Silent Death (Cryptid Assassin Book 2)

by Michael Anderle

  "Are you okay?" he asked and gave the woman a cursory scrutiny. There didn't appear to be any overt injuries, but that didn't mean that she wasn't hurt.

  "I'm fine," she said and shook her head. "I have a couple of bumps and bruises here and there and a couple of first degree burns, I think, but nothing a little aloe vera cream can't fix over the next couple of days."

  "It seems like you’ll be able to afford more than enough of it," he said. "You watch movies and TV series and get a kind of warped view of how much money is worth these days, and people don't realize how much money a hundred and fifty grand is."

  "What will you do with your part of the money?"

  "I’m starting a business and putting my degrees, experience, and contacts to use. My time in the Zoo gave me a decent amount of money—enough to get me started—but you know what they say about seed money."

  "What?" she asked.

  "Something about how you can never have enough, or something," he replied and shrugged. "Actually, I’m not even sure if that's a saying. I don't know much about running a business aside from the basics."

  "Okay, well…sure." She sat on the abandoned road and clearly needed a second to catch her breath. He couldn't sit, but he removed his helmet for a little fresh air outside of the recycled stuff in his suit. Everything still smelled of smoke, though.

  "What will you do with the money?" Taylor asked.

  She looked at him a little warily. "Would you believe me if I said I had a kid and I'm putting money aside for him to go to college?"

  "No shit?"

  "Yeah," she replied. "His dad's a lawyer, so when we parted ways, he got full custody. Not that I fought it too hard. I wasn't a great mom, so I decided the least I could do was put money aside for him to go to college later on in his life. The chances are, though, if the jobs get more like this one was, I won't survive that long anyway, so it won't really matter what I do with the money for myself."

  "That's a depressing way to look at things," he pointed out. "Fair enough, things will be tough, but if you push yourself hard, there’s an equal chance that you'll make it to embarrass the kid in his graduation pictures."

  "So, you believe me?" Tanya asked and pushed to her feet when they saw a few SUVs driving down the road toward them. "I could be lying, you know."

  He smirked. "Sure you could, but I don't see why you would. When you put yourself through an experience like this, lying suddenly seems like a pointless endeavor. If you do it often enough, you learn to see the effect in others. We call it a thousand-yard stare, usually associated with people who just went through a traumatic event."

  She looked at him, her head tilted as if she studied him anew. "You really were in the Zoo, weren't you?"

  Taylor nodded. "I went in there once and liked it so much I decided to go in another eighty-two times before I called it quits."

  "Shit."

  "Fun times were had, but in the end, I think I had my fill of that damn place."

  "Then why did you decide to hunt the monsters here?"

  "I decided that I want to make sure I'm as far away from the Zoo for as long as possible. I agreed to this so I could do my best to make sure it doesn't spread to my back door—and believe me, the place has a tendency to spread where you don't want it to."

  "Huh." She grunted but made no real reply as Banks disembarked from one of the SUVs and jogged over to where they stood. "Thanks, by the way," she said quickly

  "What for?"

  "For…talking, I guess," she replied. "I had a hard time pulling myself out of that forest. Mentally, I mean."

  "Yeah, sure." He patted her gently on the shoulder. "Of course, I needed to pull you out physically too, but that's neither here nor there."

  "Let's say that I owe you a drink and leave it at that," she said and laughed.

  "That sounds fair." He turned his attention to Banks who had slowed her approach and looked around with a frown, probably for some sign of the third member of the team.

  "Well, it’s good to see the two of you are out of there, anyway," she said. "I saw a large group of the firefighters had converged on the area you headed into, which made me worry in all kinds of ways. Can I assume the job is done?"

  "Well, I don't think we'll be able to collect any of the bodies until after the fires are under control," Taylor said. "But yeah. There were about forty of the critters in there. We handled them as well as we could have, under the circumstances."

  "While I do trust the two of you, I will need some kind of proof to show to the folks at the home office to keep the bean counters happy," she said, pulled her phone out of her pocket, and pressed one of the quick dial numbers on the device.

  "Desk, hi. I don't suppose you would be able to track some evidence of the bodies of the animals they killed in there?"

  There was a pause on the line during which he assumed Desk reminded the agent that his suit recorded essentially everything it encountered, which meant it was all the evidence she would need. Of course, there would probably be a few search parties sent into the forest to find the bodies, but that didn't mean they needed to hold off on paying the two of them their due in the meantime.

  Banks nodded at him, which basically confirmed that their conversation followed his reasoning.

  "Okay, thanks, Desk." She hung and turned to face them. "So, Taylor, could you send the footage you have to my address?"

  "Already done," he said.

  "And…Hector?" He had the feeling she hoped he would be a little farther behind, perhaps checking on something, and would join them shortly.

  She wasn't stupid, however, and had to know the dangers they would face out there. The chances were she knew precisely what he would say next.

  "He didn't make it." He kept his voice firm and to the point but still allowed the statement the somber tone it merited. "He… Well, he stepped in to cover me while I was reloading and dealing with a critter that tried to chew on my arm. He managed to kill a number of them but two got their stingers into him."

  The agent nodded, her expression deadpan. "That's…well, that sucks. I'm sorry to hear that."

  "We weren't able to get the body out," Tanya added. “The fire was closing in too fast and it was all we could do to not be caught up in it as well."

  "I understand that, of course." Banks looked surprised when he stepped forward. Hector's dog tags hung from the ball chain he’d had to break to pull them clear.

  "Huh." She grunted and took them from him. "I guess that covers it, but then… Well, I didn't know he'd been in the military."

  "I don't think he was," he said. "Well, he might have been, but long before we ever started dealing with the Zoo, anyway. Either way…well, there you go. There's the proof of his passing if you need to talk to family or whatever. There is enough footage in what I sent you to cover that too if you need it."

  She nodded. "Well, I appreciate that you made the effort to take his tags."

  "It's the least we could do. It's common courtesy for when you can't take a body for a proper burial—get the tags and make sure anyone involved with the person has some closure. You owe them that much."

  "I can understand that. Let me get all this squared away with the folks upstairs and we can talk about how the two of you will be paid."

  They nodded and Banks headed to one of the SUVs, where she likely had a way to contact the people who handled the task force's budget to clear the payment. If his experience told him anything, it was that it would take them a couple of days to get the money cleared under the best of circumstances. With a disbursement this large, he was willing to bet that it would take almost a week before they saw the six digits added to their collective bank accounts.

  "Do you think they'll still pay Hector?" Tanya asked.

  "How do you mean?"

  "I mean, like… Well, of course they can’t pay him directly, him being dead and all, but do you think they’ll transfer the money to his family or whoever might have been close to him?"

  Taylor pa
used and thought about it for a moment. "It would depend on the kind of contract he had with the FBI. Mine states explicitly that no cash will be paid out in the event of my being unable to collect it, which covers dying or not having the kind of evidence to support them being able to pay me. With that said, though, they do need to keep good relations with their freelancers, so I don't see why some exceptions can’t be made. Especially in this case."

  "I'd say this is the kind of case in which they wouldn't make an exception," she replied. "Like you said, a hundred and fifty grand is a ton of money, and if I know anything about the people running missions like these, it’s that they don't like to part with cash when they don't have to."

  "Banks does seem to have control of the money spent, though," he said. "I’m not sure if she'll exercise it in this case, but I wouldn't be surprised if she did."

  "Is this because you feel a little guilty?"

  "Why would I feel guilty? If anything, the guy was a massive, prolapsed asshole to me at first, so my returning the favor would be completely and utterly justified."

  "Well, that's not what I meant," the woman responded and chuckled. "I only meant that…well, you said he died while covering for you while we were in the middle of it. Maybe you feel like he should be paid because he died helping to save your ass."

  "I suppose that's not entirely untrue," he admitted. "Although I think my sentiment is more along the lines of…uh, well, we were all in the middle of that shit-show together. If I had died, I'd like to think you guys would have put some effort into making sure I got my dues, you know?"

  "I can't say we would have, but I can understand the sentiment. Go on."

  "Anyway… I guess I do feel a little off about it. Not because I feel like he saved my life or anything. The critter that tangled my arm up was a couple of breaths away from being swiss cheese anyway, so there's not much I care about there. And my armor would have protected me from taking too much damage anyway."

  "Really?"

  He pointed to his arm and a couple of dents where the bobcat had sunk its teeth in, along with a few higher up the arm and into the shoulder. "Believe me, these suits were designed to deal with attacks from monsters about three or four times the size of those we faced today. I would have been fine if he had done what I told him to do and stuck behind me. He could have maybe shot at the animals while they tried to chew through the plates, but he should have stayed with you. That and the fact that the guy went in with no armor to start with…I have to give it to him. It takes serious cajones to do that but doesn't make it any less stupid."

  Tanya laughed and shook her head. "That's about as fitting a memorial speech as I've ever heard. You should go to his funeral."

  "Yeah, I don't do funerals. All that reverence and paying respects crap like people refuse to admit the bad things someone's done because they want to make themselves feel better or assuage their own guilt? I'll take raising a glass and moving on any day over dressing in black and lining up to look at the corpse."

  "Hell, I'll drink to that." She motioned with her head to indicate that Banks was returning from the SUV.

  "Well, I cleared it with the folks in the office," the agent said. "Everything is good for you guys to get paid. A portion of the money owed to Hector will be given to his sister and a portion will be added to both your paychecks too as a bonus for getting the job done as quickly as possible."

  "I'll take that," Tanya said with what might have been a sheepish chuckle.

  "I’m not sure how much yet, so I wouldn't go on a yacht shopping spree yet," the woman continued. "But it should be a good amount. At least enough to cover a couple of nights of tabs at…what was that place you like again?"

  "Jackson's Bar and Grill," Taylor said with a smirk. "It sounds like you don't need us around here anymore."

  "Nope. I will pass through Vegas, though, so maybe I'll see you there? I'll take Tanya here back home too, so we could both stop in and raise a couple of glasses."

  "That sounds good to me," Taylor said. "I'll see you ladies there once I get back to my truck."

  "We can give you a ride up the hill." Banks gestured toward one of the SUVs. "Hop on in."

  Chapter Eight

  The drive home somehow felt a great deal longer than the drive to LA. Taylor wasn't sure that it made any sense, but he couldn’t deny the way he felt about it. It wasn’t enough to fully quell the general sensation of enjoyment he took from putting Liz on the road, of course, but it somehow felt a little less meaningful and a little shallower.

  He knew what he was feeling, of course. It had happened far too often for him to not realize what was happening, and while he wasn't really able to ignore it, there was also no reason for him to wallow in it. Knowing was half the battle, and he'd come up with a kind of defense mechanism and a few rituals that helped him through it.

  The technical term for it was depression, although he doubted that it was how most people understood the term.

  It was what many professionals called post-adrenaline blues, although that probably wasn't the term used in textbooks. In his case, it had less to do with coming down from the adrenaline high after a mission and more to do with dealing with the sudden realization of how mortal he was.

  Maybe it exacerbated the sudden plunge after an adrenaline high. He wasn't sure if there was more to it than that, although he had a feeling that any discussion would inevitably lead people he asked about it to suggest he might need therapy.

  It wasn't that he didn't think he needed some kind of professional help but at this point, he was tired of being poked and prodded like he was one of those damn Zoo monsters. Moving on with his life would be difficult, and if people tried to hold him back out of professional curiosity, he wouldn’t hang around and let them.

  Lost in a muddle of thoughts, he actually wished the drive would come to an end. He needed time for food, drink, and a long night of sleep before he refocused on the work that tended to take his mind away from depressing realities.

  With that said, now that he was technically not on any kind of a clock, he needed to make sure he didn't rack up any tickets—which would definitely come out of his paycheck. Desk wouldn't handle anything for him until he was needed to hunt monsters again.

  Taylor's eyes narrowed when his phone rang with no number displayed on the dashboard. He had come to identify that as a sign that Desk was trying to reach him, but he hadn’t expected her to call this soon after a job was completed. Was there another emergency that needed his attention or had one of the mutants escaped?

  He sighed. I suppose I should answer it.

  "McFadden here," Taylor said once he’d pressed the button to accept the call.

  "Hey, Taylor, Desk here," the woman said on the other side of the line.

  "I assumed so. I’m still not sure why you don't use a regular line like the rest of us."

  "Because I need to maintain anonymity."

  "Fair enough. So, how can I help you? Are there more dastardly monsters you need me to take care of?"

  "I'm sure there are but none of have come up in the recent reports," she said. "I'll keep you apprised, though."

  "So why are you calling me?" he asked. "Did you merely want to hear the sound of my voice?"

  "It’s nothing like that, although I do enjoy talking to you. No, I'm letting you know that Banks said she and Tanya are on the flight to Vegas now and they'd like to have a drink there while they're waiting for their connection. There's a place near the airport called Jessie Rae's BBQ. Do you think you can meet them there in…say an hour, maybe an hour and a half?"

  "Sure thing."

  Well, at least that was something to raise the spirits. There were few things more depressing than drinking alone, and while his first choice was obviously Jackson's, it was still a little early.

  He wasn't that far from the city itself and it wasn't long before he eased Liz to the right off the 15 to W Russell and waited at the light to turn left. The stadium for the new Las Vegas Raiders was be
ing refurbished. It had been completed in the early twenties and the bonehead company hadn’t done their damned job. As a result, they had to pay to fix it.

  Perhaps other cities would have argued in court. He assumed someone had a late-night “discussion” with the owner of the company and they agreed to fix the issue.

  It seemed the Raiders might have picked a city fit for them to play in.

  He headed over the bridge to the west side of the 15 and turned right on S Valley View. The location was on the left and a couple of blocks down. Only a few seconds later, he pulled into the parking lot of the barbecue joint.

  It wasn't too much to look at from the outside, and this early in the afternoon, it appeared that the lunch crowd had recently finished and they were preparing for the dinner rush, although it was still open. Cars were parked outside and people inside looked to be enjoying themselves well enough.

  Taylor entered and paused to breathe the refreshingly cool, air-conditioned air that contrasted with the scorching heat outside. He gave himself a moment to study his surroundings and noticed that Banks and Tanya already waited for him at one of the tables near the wall. The red-and-white checkered plastic top was still uncluttered, so it didn't look like they had ordered any food or if they had, the order was still on the way.

  At least he wasn't overly late, anyway.

  Banks was the first to see him and raised a hand to call him over to their table as one of the waitresses returned with a couple of bottled beers.

  "What can I get you?" she asked and smiled politely when he reached them.

  "I'll have what they're having for now," he said. She nodded and beat a hasty retreat, more from being busy than anything else.

  It was a nice establishment, he noted. The smell of food cooking swamped the whole seating area, which made his mouth water as he took his seat. The interior had a homey feel, the kind of location that people came to for a comfortable meal of fantastic food.