Project Maigo (15 page)

Endo shrugs. “But the excavation was incomplete. On the final day of digging, a clutch of five large eggs was discovered. Lacking the time and resources to safely and securely remove the eggs, they were left behind with the intention of removing them at a later date, when the fallout from the incident in Boston subsided. But when they returned—”

“The eggs were gone,” I say.

“The eggs had
hatched
,” Endo says. “The bones of several people, as well as moose, deer, elk and bears were all that remained. Analysis of the footprints revealed all five of the young were alive and well. But they weren’t alone.”

“Gordon was with them,” Collins says.

“Gordon
raised
them,” Endo says. “Do you know why Gordon is the way he is? A heart transplant. From the Maigo clone before she grew into Nemesis. He has the girl’s heart—the
monster’s
DNA—in his chest. It is likely Prime’s young bonded to him at birth. Before the events in Boston, Gordon developed a strong bond with Nemesis, feeling her desires and acting to help fulfill them. I suspect that bond was broken when you fulfilled Nemesis’s goal, but I believe that same bond might exist now between Gordon and the children.”

“They’re carrying out his desires,” I say. “His new soldiers.”

“Exactly,” Endo says. “And for the most part, those desires are compelling the young to eat and grow. If they grow at the same rate Maigo did, we will have four 300-foot Kaiju to deal with, inside of a few days. And with Gordon here...it is likely the young will follow. Scrion was just the first.”

“The question is, why is Gordon here?” I say.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Endo says.

I hate this man.

He doesn’t wait to hear my theory. “Gordon is here for you.”

“I know that,” I say, “but why?”

“Gordon is a military man. He is responding to a threat.” Endo leans forward, like it will help me hear him, but he could lean back and I’d hear him the same. “Imagine that Gordon is part of a special ops team. He is in hostile territory, but he can’t act until he gets orders. Now imagine that the enemy has put up a tower that blocks communications. What do you suppose becomes his primary target?”

“I’m the tower,” I say.

“I wasn’t sure until Maigo saved you today. While you lack the deeper connection that Gordon had, I believe the potential for that connection exists.”

“With your mind-control doohickey.”

“It is a neural implant,” Endo says. “It allows us basic, thoughtless, control of the target through electrical impulses to various parts of the brain. We can render the target immobile, as you experienced, or we can put them in a rampage. But there is a second option. A pathway into the target’s mind that allows for a deeper connection, which would facilitate complete control and transmission of detailed instructions.”

“Like telling someone to sit,” I say. I’m facing forward, watching Beverly Farms pass by beneath us in a blur. Endo can’t see my face. My clenched jaw. But the anger in my voice is impossible to disguise. “Devine’s security isn’t flawed, you stole the access codes from my fucking mind.”

I can’t look at the man. If I see even a hint of a smile, I’m going to jump back there and throttle him.

“Isn’t that kind of dangerous?” Collins asks. “What if the target’s mind is more powerful?”

It’s a good question, but I wish she wouldn’t have asked it. Because if the answer is that Endo’s mind is more powerful, my ego is going to be flushed down the toilet.

“The electrical impulses guarantee that the conversation is one way. The target won’t even be aware of the intrusion.”

He’s right about that. I had no idea he was in my head, which begs the question, what else did he learn about me? I draw my pistol, lean around the seat and level it at his head. “If you ever use that thing on me again, I will kill you, without warning, without mercy. Understood?”

For the first time I’ve ever seen, Endo looks a little unsettled. He’s a smart guy. He sees my finger around the trigger. The safety off. The look in my eyes. I’m one smart remark from putting a hole in his head. He does the only thing he can. He nods. Lucky bastard.

I face forward again, holstering my weapon. “You took a peek inside my head. Should have seen that coming.”

It takes a lot to get me angry. But man, Endo gets under my skin. And the fact that he violated the privacy of my mind... If I’m ever able to control Nemesis, that guy is getting an atomic wedgie the likes of which has never been seen in the history of the universe.

“We’re over Rockport, now,” Woodstock reports quietly after a few minutes spent in silence. “ETA, two minutes.”

I close my eyes for thirty seconds of those two minutes, focusing my thoughts, erasing all trace of my feelings for Endo. He’s working with us for now, and having an antagonistic relationship with the man is going to end up getting someone killed. Besides, I don’t think he’ll be pushing me again anytime soon. When I open my eyes again, I can see the quarry ahead. “Endo, how sure are you that your neural implant is going to work?”

“Gordon, at the core, is human,” he says. “It will work on him the same way it worked on yo—our test subjects. The challenge is punching through his thick skin. If the hole I began hasn’t healed yet, it will take just a second.”

“Going to be one hell of a bronco ride,” I say.

He laughs lightly “Second one today.”

“Any chance Zoomb is working on a projectile alternative?”

“For the Kaiju,” he says. “The prototype is nearly complete.”

“So Gordon is kind of a beta test then?”

“How do you mean?”

“Cause you and I both know that he’s not at all human anymore.”

Endo grunts. Maybe it’s something he hasn’t considered.

Woodstock sets Betty down on the stone barrier between the dark blue ocean and the light blue quarry pond.

“Only one way to find out, I suppose.” I open the door and hop out onto the light brown stone. Ocean air fills my nose, lacking the stench of ash that I’ve become familiar with in Beverly. Endo exits beside me as Collins and Alessi hop down from the other side. Once we’re clear, I give Woodstock a thumbs up, and he heads for the sky. He’ll circle the area, keeping an eye out for trouble. He can provide some heavy hitting backup if we need it, sans the thirty-eight rockets that have yet to be replenished.

I place an earbud in one ear, toggle Devine to communicate with Woodstock and say, “You read me?”

“Ayuh,” he says. “Be careful.”

As the dust kicked up by Betty’s rotorwash settles, I scan the area. The park is basically a big circle of land surrounding the old quarry. Tall grasses, small trees and large stones cover the area. Came here with a girlfriend once. Almost got to second base. Good times. Not the worst place in the world to die. Nice view anyway. If the quarry weren’t captivating enough, the view of the ocean stretches out three miles to the horizon. The few boats on the water are streaking steadily north, evacuating like everyone on land.

A loud seagull perched on top of a dark rock catches my attention. It’s holding a crab, panicked legs spread wide. The bird lets loose a white stream of crap before smashing the crab down. For a moment, I sympathize with the smaller creature. I’ve felt just like it.

I nearly miss what happens next. A shifting darkness behind the stone pinches the bird’s neck, eliciting a high pitched shriek that’s suddenly cut off. The bird tumbles to the side. The crab scurries free.

I take aim with my M4 and say, “Gordon’s behind the rock.”

Endo steps up next to me, a taser in one hand, his drill-tipped neural implant in the other. “No,” he says. “Gordon
is
the rock.”

The used-to-be man must hear us, because the dark rock shifts and stands. I haven’t seen Gordon since Boston. The man is a giant. Far larger than I remember. While he’s covered in thick, black skin like Nemesis’s, his facial features are still distinct enough to recognize him as the former general-turned-traitor, turned monster. When he sees me, a grin slowly spreads across his face. I’m beginning to think that not bringing a squadron of Apache helicopters was a big mistake.

19

A violent blossom of orange fire erases Gordon’s face. The explosion makes Endo, Collins and Alessi jump.

“A little warning next time,” Alessi grumbles.

I move my finger away from the grenade launcher’s trigger. “If I had warned you, I’d have warned him.” The under-barrel launcher is typically a one shot deal when the stinky, brown fan is spinning. It’s not like bullets. There’s no magazine full of grenades. Seasoned warriors can reload in two seconds flat—under fire. But I’m still getting used to the heavy hitting gear. Still, I manage to use the ten seconds it takes for the swirling smoke to drift away from Gordon’s face to eject the spent round, pull a fresh grenade from my mole pouch, slide it in and slap the breech closed. Locked, loaded and ready to rock ’n’ roll.

I’m going to need it.

Gordon is still smiling.

This is going to suck.

“Keep him occupied,” Endo says. “I need to get on his back.”

Really
suck.

“You heard the man,” I say, stepping toward Gordon, M4 aimed and pressed against my shoulder. “Time to make a sacrifice play.”

Before I can engage Gordon, Alessi runs past me, headed for Gordon. Endo runs out diagonally, ducking behind some tall rocks, no doubt looking to come up behind the monster of a man, while Alessi distracts him. He wasn’t even speaking to me.

I lower my weapon and glance at Collins. She looks as mystified as I feel.

“Should we help?” I ask.

“Probably should,” she says, not moving. “In a minute. I want to see what they can do.”

So we watch the show.

Alessi lets out a banshee wail that instantly attracts Gordon’s attention. He no doubt knows that Endo is the true threat, but the fearless woman charging him, no weapon in sight, is hard to look away from. She’s got guts, that’s for damn sure. But if she’s not careful, they’re going to be spilled all over the rocks for the gulls to snack on.

Gordon’s fists clench. He doesn’t wind up for a punch, but I doubt he has to. When he strikes, it’s a blur, but he strikes nothing. Alessi slides between his legs. As Gordon spins in pursuit of the small woman, Endo emerges from behind the tall rocks, coming back around. The whole move was choreographed to make Gordon believe Endo would be coming up behind him. When he turned around after Alessi, he might have expected to also find Endo. Instead, he became an unwitting participant in a practiced maneuver.

Alessi ducks two close punches, and just when I think she’s run out of fancy moves, Endo leaps from a two-foot-tall boulder and lands on Gordon’s back like he’s a Velcro wall. Gordon flails, but Endo clings on tightly with his legs. Unshakable. With his left hand, Endo stabs the taser into Gordon’s left temple. With the right, he jams the drill-tipped neural whatsamabob into Gordon’s right temple.

Gordon shouts in frustration, but not pain.

Then some part of Gordon’s mind remembers that he, like Endo, is a highly trained soldier who knows how to fight. And when someone is on your back, you don’t reach for them or shake around.

Gordon flings himself backwards toward a tall, brown stone rising up from the beach rocks like a long-lost Easter Island bust. Despite my distaste for Endo, I flinch. The man’s about to die.

As the pair falls back, Endo punches his fist into Gordon’s temple and then leaps away. He falls clear of the rock as Gordon slams into it, but this part of the dance hasn’t been choreographed. Endo hits hard, landing in a field of slippery seaweed-covered boulders. Despite his best effort, there’s no way to slow his fall. He takes a hard hit to the ribs and then rolls away, disappearing into a tide pool with a splash.

To hell with this
, I think, and toggle Devine to transmit. “Hawk-one, this is Hudson. I need three birds to my coordinates, ASAP.”

“Our target, sir?” Hawk-One’s voice fills my ear.

“Lance Gordon,” I say. “This is a priority one target. Lethal force authorized. Be aware, there are four friendlies on site. Pick your target carefully, but be quick about it.”

“Copy that,” Hawk-One says. “ETA, ten minutes.”

Shit.
This will be done in ten minutes. The only friendlies they’re going to find are smears. I should have never listened to Endo. At least we still have Betty.

“Woodstock, come around for a flyby,” I say. “If we’re clear, light him up.”

While Betty’s rocket pods are empty, she still has a high powered chain gun. It’s nothing compared to the heavy hitting armaments of an Apache attack helicopter, but it should do more than tickle.

“Let’s go,” I say to Collins, raising my weapon again and heading for Gordon. While Endo and Alessi have clearly been training for an up close and personal confrontation with Gordon, Collins and I have been working on coordinated weapons assaults. Granted, we generally have about twenty more men supporting us, but we’re both competent.