David Golemon - Leviathan

The door opened. The bright light flared once more, and the woman left the room. The man could see she was tall, at the very least six feet; she was dressed in dark green and her hair was jet-black, but that was all he saw before the door closed.

"It's not often that she would grace someone she doesn't know by speaking to them. But then again, I should have thought she would. I'll tell you this much, she visited you at least three times a day. It was quite unsettling to my sleep cycle having her pop in at ungodly hours," the doctor said in an English accent.

"Who is she?" the man asked, finally sitting up on the edge of the bed.

The doctor laughed again; this time the humor came through his hardy sound.

"Who she is, at the very least, is a loaded question. Suffice it to say she springs from a family of geniuses and is, by leaps and bounds, the most brilliant human being the world has ever known. Just leave it at that." The doctor shook his head but kept the smile on his face. "When all is said and done, go away with the knowledge that she respects you. That is something you will be able to tell your grandchildren. She spoke to you and she liked you; not many can say that."

"Am I supposed to be honored?" the man asked, clinking the chain that held the handcuff in place.

"Oh, that. It was for your own protection, until your memory cleared up. We didn't exactly know how you would react when you awoke. Your… how should I put this? Ah, your preeminence in the art of death precedes you, sir."

A spark of memory flared in the man's mind. He tilted his head and looked at the doctor.

"That's right; it's teasing you right now, isn't it?" The doctor stood, went to a closet, and pulled open a door. He reached in and removed an item from inside, then closed the door and turned. He held up a small silver key, obviously one that would unlock the handcuff. As the man examined the doctor, he saw that the white lab coat had a patch on the left-hand breast pocket. It was an L, with what looked to be two dolphins on either side, making it look like [?] L[?]. Beneath that was the symbol for a medical doctor, the twin-snake motif.

"Now, would you like to be filled in on who you are and what is expected of you? If you behave, I think we can dispense with the security measures." He went to the bed and tapped the handcuff.

Carl Everett stood just inside of the parking area of one of the most famous lighthouses in the United States. Jason Ryan and Will Mendenhall stood on either side of him, waiting for the mysterious rendezvous to take place. Behind them sat a stretch limousine with its motor off and headlights on. They had been at the point for thirty minutes watching as the fog became thicker each passing moment they waited. The only sound that was audible through the thickening mist was the seaboard dinghies with their forlorn toll.

"Goddamn FBI, how can they plan for an entity they know absolutely nothing about?" Everett mumbled, his eyes never leaving the shoreline.

"Director Compton should have acted without presidential knowledge," Ryan said, looking to his right at the closest FBI HRT member laying low underneath the cover of a large bush. Hostage Rescue out of Quantico had been called in for the ambush, and several of them were half-buried in the rough and rocky sands of the point.

Everett turned, chanced a look at the naval lieutenant, and sniffed.

"Some people like to go by the book, Mr. Ryan, even if you don't."

"I've known Compton to toss that book away from time to time," Ryan countered.

Everett didn't respond to the challenge. He just pursed his lips and then turned up his coat collar.

Mendenhall looked at his watch, then turned around and looked at the limousine that was minus one important element inside its interior: Director Compton. He also tried his best to peer through the swirling fog beyond, feeling uncomfortable. Absentmindedly he rubbed the scratch on his arm, wondering if he was going to get some sort of infection from that old man's ring this afternoon.

"Okay, what's on your mind, Will?" Carl asked, noticing it was the tenth time Mendenhall had turned to look to the rear.

"I can't shake this feeling that someone is out there, behind us. I've had it ever since we got here."

"There are people behind us; it's the FBI, and they have one hell of a lot of guns," Ryan said.

"I'm beginning to think Jack taught you something after all, Lieutenant. I'll let you in on a little secret. I have the same feeling." Carl turned and looked at Jason Ryan. "And it's not the FBI. Whoever it is, is far better at hiding than they are."

Ryan turned and looked at Mendenhall, who raised his brows as if to say I told you .

"Well," Ryan said, also looking at his watch, "our ecoterrorists are officially late — it's now oh-two-hundred and—"

Suddenly a larger-than-normal breaker crashed onto the beach and rocks, hard enough that seawater washed over into the parking lot and covered their feet. The sea retreated, and the breakers went back to their normal surge.

"You guys are navy boys. Is that normal? Like, was it a tidal surge, or maybe a rogue wave or something?" Mendenhall asked as he shook water off his shoes.

"You've been watching far too much Discovery Channel, Will," Everett said as he watched the fog in front of him, knowing they were no longer waiting for their company.

Everett reached behind him and placed both hands underneath the back of his nylon coat. He felt the nine-millimeter automatic, chambered a round, clicked off the safety, then brought his hands free of his coat. Ryan and Mendenhall mimicked his action.

Carl switched on the voice-activated microphone attached to his wristwatch.

"All units and positions, we have movement out at sea. Stand by. We don't know anything definite with this fog, so hold station."

The fog eddied and swirled around them. Carl chanced a glance at the limousine parked fifteen feet away. The fog should have been sufficient to cover the fact that Niles Compton was over two thousand miles away in Nevada.

"Ahoy the beach!"

The voice came from a loudspeaker. Everett couldn't track it because of the denseness of the fog.

"All units, we have voice contact only. Remain in place," Everett said. He took three steps toward the water, puting one hand behind him to stay Ryan and Mendenhall. "Ahoy the boat. I am Captain Everett, United States Navy. Identify yourself."

"Advance to the water's edge with Dr. Niles Compton, please."

Everett turned and looked back at Jason and Will for a moment, then turned back toward the fog-shrouded sea.

"That's not the way this game is going to be played. Dr. Compton keeps his station behind me until such a time as I'm satisfied with the situation and his safety."

"I assure you, Captain, we do not play games. Nonetheless, upon your word as a United States naval officer, we will approach the beach."

Everett hoped the FBI special agent in charge heard the response from their guests. Carl could feel the fifteen weapons of the hidden agents ready to open up.

The sound of water being pushed aside came to his ears as he finally caught sight of the boat that had lain offshore. It was like a Zodiac rubber craft, but far larger. As it approached, he could see only two figures inside. It grounded almost noiselessly onto the rocks, narrowly missing two large boulders that jutted out from the shore. Everett heard no engine sounds, so that meant they were using a form of propulsion that was silenced to a large degree. A large man quickly stepped easily over the gunnels of the Zodiac and stood looking at the three men.

"Captain, I am here to exchange one of your people for Dr. Compton. Would you present him, please?"