Synbat (8 page)

Biotech Engineering

_12:56 P.M._
After reaching the dirt road, Ward had turned south, heading down to Route 64 and then following that up to the lab. Going that way instead of cross-country had saved a considerable amount of time. Ward had ignored the few questions that the Special Forces soldier asked when they first started out, and the rest of the trip had been made in silence. He was busy thinking, trying to figure out how the collars could have been cut off. He had to acknowledge the growing possibility that someone had survived the break-in. It would explain several of the more unusual factors they'd discovered so far. But the Synbats must have gotten away from that person, since there were no human tracks where they'd found the collars. But if no humans were present, how were the collars cut off?
Ward was still grappling with that problem when they turned into the lab parking lot. Two plain white vans with government plates had joined the other three vehicles there. The vans were unmarked and had tinted windows in the front, preventing him from looking in the vehicles. Ward told the soldier to stay with the helicopters and he entered the building.
Merrit was still at her position behind the counter. A tall man wearing unmarked khaki pants and shirt was with her. Ward didn't recognize the stranger. The man had dark hair flecked with gray, and a patrician face. His bearing and stance immediately suggested to Ward that this man was military. Merrit and the stranger turned from the portable computer and faced Ward as he strode in.
Merrit stood up and gestured. "Doctor Ward, this is Mister Lewis. He's -- "
The man interrupted in a voice accustomed to command. "That's _Colonel_ Lewis. I'm the DIA chief of CONUS security. I just flew in from Washington to Fort Campbell by military flight along with my team and our vans. My men are downstairs right now sweeping up."
Ward wondered what Lewis meant by "sweeping up." But he didn't have time to waste  --  he needed to get back out into the woods.
Ward stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you. You'll excuse me if I don't have time to talk with you right now. I have to get our tranquilizer rifles and go back out."
Lewis didn't shake the offered hand. "Slow down, Doctor. I thought the creatures were terminated by remote detonation."
"We did do that, but we just found the collars out in the woods and no bodies. It looks like the collars were somehow cut off prior to detonation. The Synbats are still alive. The soldiers and your man Freeman are tracking them. Now, if..."
Ward paused. Four men carrying a body bag pushed open the doors to the corridor and walked by with their bundle.
Lewis watched as the two men went outside and threw the bag into the back of a van. One of the men got into the pickup truck and the two vehicles drove off. Lewis turned his attention back to Ward. "Doctor Merrit has filled me in on what she knows. Perhaps you'd better give me your version, and then tell me what's presently going on out there in the woods."
Ward shook his head. "I've got to get back out there. The -- "
Lewis held up a hand. "Doctor, let me explain something to you. This may have been your lab but I'm in charge here now. You've got a fuckup on your hands and my job is to clean up the mess. Freeman knows to kill those things if he spots them. In fact, he made a mistake by even allowing you to think we'd let you tranquilize them. Those things have already killed. If they attack some civilian, it will make the situation that much worse. Just their existence being discovered is unacceptable."
The colonel poked a finger in Ward's chest. "Listen closely. This is the way it's going to work from here on out. I've already explained it to Doctor Merrit. _I_ ask the questions. _You_ give the answers. I tell you what to do. You do it without question."
He stared hard at Ward. "If you have a problem with that, you can pick up the phone and call General Trollers. Let me warn you before you do that, though, that you're not a very popular person with the general right now. Congress is looking to kill the Black Budget programs, and your screwup here could hand them the scalpel they need."
"This wasn't my fault," Ward defended himself. "Those people  --  whoever they were  --  broke in and tried to steal the Synbats. The security -- "
"Those _people_," Lewis interrupted, "were three convicts from Eddyville State Prison who escaped last night. We have a positive ID on the remains. We're holding that information from the local authorities because they're our ace in the hole in case your creatures do some more damage out there in the real world. Those bodies not being discovered gives us a very convenient cover story."
Ward seemed stunned. "But what about the security guard?"
"I don't know about that yet," Lewis admitted. "Those convicts had to have gotten down here from Eddyville somehow. Maybe they had someone else with them. I don't know. I've got people checking on that right now.
"We haven't had a chance to analyze everything yet, so we don't know what happened, but we'll worry about that when we get this thing under control."
Lewis sat on the edge of the desk. "Now. That helicopter isn't going anywhere until I say so. And I'm not going to say so until I know what's happening. So. Fill me in."
* * * *

Route 139, North of the Tennessee Border

_1:08 P.M._
Kentucky State Trooper Mike Truscott had his service revolver lying in his lap ready for use as he slowly cruised down the road. The manhunt for the escapees from Eddyville was concentrated along the interstate, but Truscott had been detached to check out the area in the vicinity of the Land Between the Lakes. All morning he'd cruised the entire length of the Trace, the road running up the middle of the LBL, and now he was moving east, closer to the suspected path of the escapees. People in the local area were very nervous, because two of the three escapees  --  Billy Hill and Chico Lopez  --  were convicted murderers.
As Truscott topped a small rise, he spotted tire tracks rolling off the hard tar into mud on the right side of the road. He slowed and pulled to a halt, peering off to the left where the back side of a van was visible through the trees. He called in his location and the situation, grabbed his shotgun, and exited the patrol car.
The back doors of the van were shut and the windows blacked out, so he edged around the driver's side, muzzle of the shotgun leading. He stepped up, pointing the gun directly at the glass, and stared in. A woman was in the driver's seat, staring directly ahead, her hands gripping the wheel. Truscott would later tell his buddies over a few beers that it appeared she was still driving the van in her mind, because her hands were twitching on the steering wheel, trying to maneuver as if she saw a turn in the road.
Truscott tapped on the glass with the shotgun; the woman ignored him. He'd seen many victims in shock after accidents but never anything quite like this. Putting down the shotgun, he grabbed the panel door and slid it open. He lunged for his shotgun as the body of an overweight man rolled out the door onto the wet grass.
* * * *

Vicinity Lake Barkley

_1:23 P.M._
Williams Hollow ran northeast from Lake Barkley. After twenty minutes, the team had reached the end of the draw, where the tracks had turned north. They'd been following them in this direction for fifteen minutes.
Riley was impressed with the tracking job Trovinsky was doing. The wet ground obviously helped, but in places the trail traversed old leaves or rocky areas and Trovinsky was still able to stay on track.
They were walking along the edge of a ridge when Trovinsky halted. He turned and signaled for Riley to come up.
"What do you have?"
Trovinsky indicated some matted grass at the base of a tree. "They must have slept here for a while."
Trovinsky edged around the tree with Riley following. He pointed at some droppings. "Now we'll get an idea of how long ago they were here."
Trovinsky poked at the feces with his knife and the lumps broke apart. "I'd say they were here not more than two hours ago. This hasn't had a chance to harden much yet. I've followed deer when I bow hunt and use the same method to tell how far behind I am." Trovinsky cleaned his knife on some leaves and resheathed it. "I would assume that monkey shit works pretty much the same as deer shit."
Riley signaled for the team to come in. "Looks like they rested here. They're less than two hours ahead. Let's tighten it up a bit. I want to move in an inverted V with Trovinsky at the point. I'll be his swing man."
Riley pointed at Freeman. "You follow right behind me, about ten feet back."
Riley was a little nervous about his men having live ammunition. He trusted them, but he also knew from hard experience that it's just as easy to get killed by friendly fire as enemy. Bullets didn't care if you were a good guy or a bad guy. Riley was encouraged that eight of the men had seen duty during Operation Desert Storm and knew how to play the game for real.
Riley addressed the team before starting off again. "Make sure if you shoot that you have a clear field of fire. I don't want anyone firing on three-round burst. Semi only. I know I probably don't have to say this, but do not fire across the formation." He peered around the group. "Any questions? All right. Let's move out."
At that moment a distant chattering in the air grabbed his attention. Shit, Riley thought. Terrible timing. He gestured. "Philips and Carter. Head on back to the stream and follow it to the lake. There should be an open area there. Bring the bird down and then guide the doctor and T-bone up here. On the double."
The two men backtracked at a trot. Riley was now down to seven men, eight counting Freeman. He turned to the DIA agent. "You armed, sir?"
Freeman pulled a snub-nose Colt from under his jacket. Riley was tempted to tell the major to be careful not to shoot himself. He contemplated taking his 9mm automatic from its shoulder holster under his fatigue shirt and giving it to the agent but decided against it. Instead he simply signaled for the team to move out.
With Trovinsky in the lead, the team broke through the dense undergrowth. The great monkey hunt, Riley thought sarcastically. Riley had worked with some DIA people in Thailand in the early eighties on some so-called intelligence-gathering missions; he didn't have much respect for the military men in civilian clothes trying to play superspy.
The DIA was the Pentagon's pooper-scooper. Too many of the men and women in the DIA came from regular military intelligence circles and, in Riley's opinion, lacked the flexibility in thinking necessary to conduct intelligence operations. They might be good working a desk, but some were disasters out in the real world. Traditional army mentality didn't jive with the curvilinear, inductive thinking often required to do good intelligence work. Certainly the DIA must have many good people, but Riley had had the misfortune to work with some of the bad ones.
The DIA also tended to overemphasize security at the expense of operational necessity. This Freeman fellow wasn't giving them the whole story, and Riley didn't like that. Experience had taught him that uninformed people made mistakes.
Riley diverted his attention from Trovinsky to briefly scan the rest of the team's positioning. Doc Seay was a comforting presence on his right. Riley could make out Barret, the junior engineer, breaking brush to the right of Seay. On Riley's left, Knutz was moving solidly through the woods, bulling his way through the undergrowth rather than slipping through as Riley was. Beyond Knutz, out of sight, Sgt. Martie Trustin and SSgt. Lou Caruso finished out the left wing of the wedge.
Riley turned his attention back to Trovinsky in time to see the man stop abruptly and signal a halt. Riley raised his fist and passed the signal to the rest of the team. He patiently waited as Trovinsky quartered the ground in front, gradually increasing the radius of the search pattern. After ten minutes, Trovinsky turned to Riley.
"The trail ends here."
Riley looked around. "Then where are they?"
Trovinsky pointed up. "They took to the trees."
* * * *

2:14 P.M.

The party from the helicopter had tramped up from the beginning of Williams Hollow to the point where the monkeys had gone vertical. Ward seemed very subdued and Riley took an instant dislike to the DIA colonel. Lewis's first comment after Freeman's quick recount of events was to demand to know why they had stopped looking. Riley decided to step in at that point.
"Look where, sir? There's no trail to follow up in the trees, and none of my men are Tarzan qualified. We need to bring in a bunch more bodies if we're going to sweep this area. Those monkeys could have gone in any direction once they went up."
Lewis leveled his hard gaze at Riley. "You have any other brilliant observations to make, mister?"
Riley held his temper. From behind him, Freeman interceded. "What about thermal imagery from the helicopters?"
Lewis nodded. "That's a good idea. I'm sure some of the infantry units at Campbell have thermal sights that we'll be able to use."
Lewis obviously is going to do whatever he wants, Riley thought. He'd be damned if he'd get into an argument with the man. Warrant officers didn't win many pissing contests with full colonels.
Lewis made his command decision. "I'm going to have one of those helicopters go back and get some thermals. It's worth a shot."
Trovinsky offered another alternative. "If we could get some search-and-rescue dogs, we might be able to find them."
Lewis frowned. "If the monkeys are up in the trees, how can the dogs follow their trail?"
Trovinsky shook his head. "Not all search-and-rescue dogs are trailing dogs, sir. Some use what's called winding. We put them downwind of the last known position, which is here, and the dogs do a search pattern until they pick up the scent, and then work upwind to the source. It's actually a lot quicker than trailing, because the dogs can head straight for the source once they pick up the scent rather than following a winding trail. The Montgomery County Sheriff's Department over by Clarksville has some dogs trained in that."
Freeman threw in his two cents' worth. "We can call the sheriff's department and ask for their assistance."
Riley could tell that Lewis didn't like the idea of calling in anyone else. The colonel seemed to be holding an internal debate. Lewis made his decision. He pulled out a Motorola radio from a shoulder holster and keyed the send button. "Search Base, this is Search Six. Over."
The radio hissed. "This is Search Base. Over."
"Call the DPTM at Fort Campbell and have him get some thermal sights ready for pickup. Then send Jameson back with one of the helicopters to get them. Also, contact the Montgomery County Sheriff's Department to get us some tracking dogs. Use the other bird to pick them up. Have Gottleib go on that one. I want the thermals brought back to the lab and the dogs brought straight out here. Over."
"Roger. What should I tell the sheriff's department is the reason for the dogs? Over."
"The goddamn federal government needs them, that's why. Out."