Jonathan Maberry - The Dragon Factory

“Joe… this is a secure line,” Grace said. “Just us. No ears of any kind.”

“Wow,” he said. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

“Joe, I’m sorry about this morning. I didn’t mean to snub you-”

“Don’t sweat it. Been a funky few days.”

“About this morning… about what I said.”

“Yeah.”

“I… can we pretend I didn’t say it? Can we roll back the clock and reset the system?”

“I don’t know. Can we?”

“We have to.”

“Do we?”

“You know we do.”

Ledger said nothing.

“Joe… there’s too much at stake. When you reach the island, you have to be smart about this. I’m just another soldier. So are you. We’re professionals, not a couple of kids. If this gets hot tonight, then we have to follow procedure, stick to training, and not let any emotions interfere with our actions. End of story.”

There was a five count of heavy silence; then Ledger said, “I hear you.”

Grace said, “This… isn’t what I want. You understand?”

“I do,” he said sadly. “The mission comes first.”

“The mission comes first. Joe… I’ll see you there.”

“I’ll be there,” he said. “And Grace…?”

“Yes?”

“Good hunting, Major.”

“Good hunting, Captain.”

She disconnected.

That was an hour ago.

Now she lay on the Hydrospeeder as it cut through the water toward the Dragon Factory. Behind the clear glass of her goggles, Grace Courtland’s eyes were the hard, heartless eyes of a predator. They were the eyes of a soldier going to war.

They were a killer’s eyes.

In flight above the North Atlantic

Thirty-five minutes ago

I stood behind the pilot, and if my fingers were dug a little too tightly into the soft leather of his seat, then screw it. I stared out of the cockpit window at the blackness of the ocean below.

The pilot said, “Captain… wishing won’t make this bird fly any faster.”

“It might,” I said, and he laughed.

The co-pilot tapped my arm. “You have a call coming in on secure channel two.”

I went back into the cabin and screwed my earbud into place.

“Go for Cowboy,” I said.

“The fish are in the water,” said Church. “Two minutes to landfall. What’s your ETA?”

“Bailout in twenty, then drop time.”

“Good hunting, Captain.”

“Yeah,” I said, and switched off.

Top and Bunny were ready to go, their chutes strapped on and their weapons double- and triple-checked. All of us were heavy with extra magazines, frags, and flash bangs, knives, and anything else we could carry. If we hit water instead of land, we’d sink like stones.

“Alpha Team will hit the island in under two minutes,” I said.

“Wish we were with them, boss,” said Bunny.

Top studied me for several seconds. “It ain’t my place to offer advice to an officer,” he said, “me being a lowly first sergeant and all.”

I gave him a look.

“But I’m pretty sure there’ll be enough beer left by the time we get to this kegger.”

“There goddamn well better be,” I growled.

The Chamber of Myth

Tuesday, August 31, 2:21 A.M.

Time Remaining on the Extinction Clock: 33 hours, 39 minutes

Hecate and Paris stared in shock and horror as their father tossed the dead sea serpent aside and got to his feet.

“What… what are you talking about?” Hecate said.

Paris sputtered, unable to talk.

Cyrus mocked his son’s startled stutter, “I-i-i-’m sorry, Paris, did I speak too quickly? Use too many big words? Or are you simply as stupid as I’ve feared all these years?”

If Paris had been on the verge of saying something, those words struck him completely dumb.

Cyrus turned to Hecate. “And you, you feral bitch. I’d held you in higher regard until now. Did you actually think you had me fooled. ‘Daddy’?” He spit the distasteful word out of his mouth. “The day I become a fawning dotard I hope to God Otto puts a bullet in my brain.”

Otto smiled and bowed, and then he and Cyrus laughed.

Hecate looked back and forth between them. “What… what’s going on here?”

“I believe the Americans call it ‘payback.’ ”

“For what ?” Paris blurted, finally finding his voice.

“How much time do you have?” sneered Cyrus. “For all those years when you two thought you had me imprisoned at the Deck. For treating me like a vapid old fool. For the disrespect you show me in every action, even when you are faking respect. For trying to steal Heinrich Haeckel’s cache of records. For trying to control me by staffing the Deck with your toadies.”

Otto laughed.

“Wait-you sent the Russian team to Gilpin’s apartment? And to Deep Iron?”

“Of course. Those records were supposed to come to me. It was an incident of mischance that Heinrich died before he could pass along the information about where the records were stored. Even his own family didn’t know what he had stored or where it was stored. For years we thought that all of that wonderful research was lost. Then in one of those moments of good fortune that reinforce the reality of a just and loving God, Burt Gilpin approached one of Otto’s agents with information about a cache of early genetics research. And what do we discover? That Gilpin used to work for the Jakoby Twins, that he was a computer consultant for them. Our Russian friends encouraged him to talk and he told us about how he helped the legendary Jakoby Twins install a revolutionary computer system called Pangaea. Did you know that he built himself a clone of Pangaea? That he used it to steal medical research in exactly the way you two were stealing it? Only he made the mistake of trying to sell the bulk research… and he tried to sell it to Otto.”

Cyrus shook his head slowly. “Stealing the schematics for Pangaea from me was very naughty… though I do admire you for that much, at least. But you had to take a smart move and plow it under with a stupid one by getting into bed with that parasite Sunderland to try and steal the MindReader system.”

“How-?”

“How do I know?” Cyrus cut in. “Because most of the people you trust work for me. I knew about the foolish plan to try and use the National Security Agency against the Department of Military Sciences. Were you on drugs when you conceived that idea? Did you think you could stop Deacon when the entire Cabal could not?”

Hecate and Paris looked confused.

“You don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you? You don’t know who the Deacon is, do you? You don’t even know about the Cabal-about the thing that should have been your legacy. You’re so goddamned stupid that you truly disappoint me. Do you think that I was ever your prisoner? Ever? I’ve owned every single person you set to watch me. From the outset. You think you are so clever-my young gods-but I’m here to tell you that you are playing children’s games with adults.”

“We never-,” Paris began but Cyrus walked quickly to him and slapped him so hard across the face that Paris was knocked halfway around. He would have fallen had Tonton not stepped up and caught him.

“Don’t ever make excuses to me, boy. That’s all you’ve ever done. You were a disappointment as a child, and as a man you’re a joke. At least your sister has enough personal integrity to say nothing when she has nothing useful to say.”

As Tonton moved, Conrad Veder used the opportunity to shift his position. He had a plastic four-shot pistol in a holster inside his pants. The bullets were caseless ceramic shells that would explode a human skull. He could draw and fire in less than a second.