The Chimera Secret (23 page)

‘No, sir,’ came a series of hushed calls.

‘Hold the line,’ Kurt Agry whispered back, and then Ethan heard him try the two sentries again on the radio. Again, Ethan heard a faint click in response and then silence. He guessed
that one man was responding by keying his microphone only, and that meant that, for whatever reason, he could not speak.

Lopez crouched down alongside him.

‘What’s going on out there?’ she asked.

Ethan shook his head, not sure what to make of it. They had all heard something, but there was no point in them chasing every noise in the woods. The wilderness was filled with animals following
trails.

The soldiers held their positions, all of them down on one knee with their weapons trained on the forest. Ethan was about to move forward when a hand pressed down on his shoulder. He turned and
saw Duran Wilkes squat silently down alongside him. In his hand he held a rifle’s sniper-scope, and he could see a faint glow coming from the optics. It was an infra-red device, designed to
detect heat signatures against the cold backdrop of the damp woods.

Duran leaned down close to Ethan’s ear and spoke so softly that he could barely hear him.

‘Hundred yards,’ he said, and pointed out into utter blackness to Ethan’s right.

Ethan pivoted on his heel and lifted the scope to his right eye.

A thick wall of trees loomed into his vision, dark blue against the deeper black of the forest beyond. The perspective shifted slightly as he moved, but he could see nothing but the empty
forest.

‘Be patient,’ Duran said as though reading Ethan’s mind. ‘Just watch.’

Ethan calmed his breathing like he used to do before taking a shot when he was with the marines. The image steadied. For several long seconds he saw nothing. Then, quite suddenly, from between
two large and distant trees a tall, bright sliver of heat appeared, as though something had peeked out. The object remained stationary for several seconds before vanishing once again into
cover.

Ethan dropped the scope from his eye and looked at Duran. ‘A hundred yards?’

Duran nodded and then gestured to the soldiers nearby.

‘Like I said, you don’t find a sasquatch,’ he repeated. ‘It finds you.’

‘Is it out there?’ Lopez asked.

‘Something sure is,’ Ethan replied, and handed her the scope. He turned to Duran as Lopez began scanning the woods with the IR scope.

‘How did you know it would be there?’ he asked the old man.

Duran stroked his beard as he replied.

‘I’ve been out in these hills for most of my life,’ he said. ‘Time to time you see one of these things walking about. Most all the time they mind their own business, but
I’ve learned that they’re like us in one real important way: they’re curious. They’re interested in what we’re doing and they’ll come have a look-see if they get
the chance.’

Ethan surveyed the immense forest around them.

‘That was a pretty fast catch,’ he said admiringly. ‘It could have been hiding behind any tree in the woods within a hundred yards.’

Duran nodded.

‘Yup, but they’ll always track in from downwind so they don’t drop their scent. Then what they do is approach from a direction that allows them an easy and quick escape, while
also providing a lot of cover for their approach. They watch from behind and between trees, and must have pretty decent eyesight because I’ve never seen one come as close as this. Most times
they’re a couple of hundred yards away.’

‘I can see it,’ Lopez murmured. ‘Sneaky little bastard, isn’t he?’

Ethan smiled wryly.

‘He’s not little,’ he pointed out. ‘If he’s a hundred yards out he must be over eight feet tall.’

‘Nine,’ Mary Wilkes corrected him as she joined them, a scope to her own eye. ‘A big one even by their standards, and very close to the camp.’

Lopez looked at the old man.

‘You’re not going to tell Lieutenant Watson where it is?’

Duran scowled in the darkness and shook his head.

‘Why, so his sergeant can take a pot-shot at it and carry home a trophy? Like hell. It hasn’t done anything to us.’

Ethan frowned uncertainly.

‘Then what the hell was that noise, and the growl?’ Ethan asked. ‘And if it can watch us from a hundred yards out, what was it doing right beside the camp?’

Ethan did not hear Duran’s reply. From the forest nearby a shout of alarm was followed by Kurt Agry’s voice bellowing in the darkness.

‘Man down! Light ’em up!’

In an instant the soldiers turned on the Maglites on their weapons, the bright white flashlight beams cutting like lasers into the forest. Banks of mist glowed like ethereal clouds and tree
trunks gleaming with moisture as they swept the woods with the beams.

Ethan jogged with Lopez to a dense clump of foliage where Lieutenant Watson was kneeling, his rifle slung over his shoulder. As he reached the officer’s side Ethan saw the prostrate form
of Simmons slumped on his back on the ground, thick blood snaking across his face from a deep wound in his head.

‘What happened?’ Lopez stared down at the fallen soldier in disbelief. ‘He didn’t make a sound.’

Kurt Agry was unpacking a reel of medical dressing as he replied.

‘I don’t know, but we need to get him into the camp right now.’

The soldiers were pulling back toward them, circling protectively around their fallen comrade, when the remaining point-man suddenly appeared from the forest and ran toward them with his breath
condensing in billowing clouds in the flashlight beams that whipped around to aim at him.

‘Where the hell have you been?!’ Kurt Agry snarled at him.

Corporal Jenkins looked down at his fallen colleague, his face stricken.

‘It came right past me,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t move or speak.’

‘Who moved past you, Jenkins?’ Lieutenant Watson asked as he stood up.

The soldier rubbed his face.

‘I couldn’t see it that well,’ he admitted, ‘but I could hear it breathing. Sounded big, heavy, but it moved in total silence.’

Ethan looked at Duran, who was standing with Mary nearby.

‘We saw one of them,’ Ethan said.

‘You saw them?’ Kurt Agry snapped as he rounded on Ethan. ‘And you didn’t say anything?’

‘It was a hundred yards out,’ Ethan shot back. ‘It wasn’t a threat.’

Jenkins stared at Ethan in disbelief. ‘But I was only fifty yards away. What could move that fast in total darkness?’

In a split second, Ethan came to the conclusion that the deep crunch they had heard had in fact been caused by something hitting the fallen soldier on the head and crippling him. An image of the
distant, watching figure in the woods snapped into his attention.

Ethan turned toward the camp nearby.

‘It’s a distraction,’ he uttered.

On the cold night air a stale odor drifted to stain Ethan’s nose. The smell intensified until he felt his throat contract and his eyes stream. He turned away and gagged instinctively from
the smell as he heard Lopez cough beside him.

Behind his disgust he heard Lieutenant Watson shout out a command.

‘Protect the camp!’

The soldiers had barely started to move when a heavy rock slammed down into the center of their group with a heavy thud that stripped a chunk of bark from a nearby tree. Another smashed into the
foliage at their feet as a third hit Kurt Agry square in the back. He stumbled forward and crashed down into the undergrowth.

‘Cover! Return fire!’

Agry’s cry was followed by a sweep of flashlight beams and a deafening clatter of automatic fire as every soldier let off a pair of three-round bursts into the forest around them. The
bullets shattered tree bark and zipped through leaves and branches as Duran Wilkes shouted out above the noise.

‘Cease fire! You’re wasting your time!’

Ethan and Lopez ducked down as the soldiers ignored the old man and fired controlled bursts into the inky black woods. Ethan, squinting against the noise and the fluttering flames of the muzzle
blasts, crouched down alongside Lopez and looked across at the flames of the camp fire.

In the midst of the firelight, he felt his breath catch in his throat as he saw a gigantic form plunge through the camp. The battering noise of the rifles and the sweeping flashlight beams
confused his eyes, but he saw a glimpse of thick fur and a huge arm that smashed through piles of equipment. The fire flared in a blossoming cloud of sparks that spiralled up into the night sky as
whatever was thundering through the camp crashed through it and sent the embers sprawling across the forest floor.

Natalie walked into the agency’s foyer with her visitor’s pass attached to the lapel of her jacket. She felt like an imposter as she strode through a series of
security checks and into the building proper. Truth was, she wouldn’t have gotten into the building at all were it not for Ethan’s friendship with Douglas Jarvis, even on the back of
the Congressional investigation’s mandate. People didn’t just walk into the DIA for a chat. You asked, you waited, and you generally got denied.

Jarvis had, for whatever reason, agreed to meet her.

Natalie had taken the time to pull what files the committee could access on Douglas Jarvis. Born in 1950, Brooklyn, New York, Jarvis had been educated in New Jersey and had joined the corps
right after graduating.

Jarvis had shipped out to Vietnam in 1968 and served with the 1st Battalion, 3rd Marines near Da Nang during the Tet Offensive, surviving two tours before the division was pulled out of the
country in 1971. Battle-hardened and no doubt scarred as so many were after the horrors witnessed during the conflict, Jarvis had served the corps with distinction but had not sought the higher
ranks. He had been just a captain when he had commanded Ethan’s rifle platoon with the 15th Expeditionary Force in 2003, and by then his age precluded his participation in front-line combat
duty. Frustrated by his limited operational options, Jarvis had finally left the corps at the age of fifty-four and joined the intelligence community at the Pentagon before transferring into the
DIA to head up some kind of paramilitary unit within the agency.

That, apparently, was where the story ended.

Natalie suspected that it was almost certainly where the story began.

An elevator carried her up to the fourth floor and, moments later, she was outside an unassuming office door with Jarvis’s name upon a polished aluminum plate attached at eye level.
Natalie reached up and knocked before entering the office.

That Doug Jarvis had been waiting for her was obvious. He was leaning against his desk with his hands in the pockets of his dark-blue pants, his jacket undone and his tie loose. He looked more
like somebody hanging out in a bar after work than a senior officer in one of the most secretive agencies in the world.

‘Mr. Jarvis? Natalie asked as she closed the door behind her.

Jarvis pushed off the edge of the desk and smiled at her. The window of his office looked out over the airbase behind them, the runway lights twinkling in the night.

‘You look a lot like him,’ he said by way of a greeting. ‘Although you’re attractive.’

Natalie grinned, thrown off guard by the old man’s affable nature and firm but gentle handshake.

‘He says the same,’ Natalie replied. ‘He’s always full of bluff wit and charm.’

Jarvis gestured for her to take a chair at his desk, and as she sat down she saw two cups filled with steaming coffee, surrounded by a bowl of sugar and a jug of milk. Two possibilities
infiltrated her thoughts: one, that Jarvis was just a decent guy who wanted her to feel at home; and two, Jarvis had plenty to hide and was hoping to fob her off with idle chatter and a sweet old
smile.

‘Sugar?’ Jarvis asked, reaching for the sachets.

‘I’ve got it,’ Natalie said, and picked them up herself.

Better safe than sorry, she decided. Whatever this guy was up to he had plenty of power and probably access to things so secret that neither Natalie nor the most far-reaching Congressional
committee in the history of the United States of America would ever get close to.

Jarvis pulled his own cup closer as he sat down and looked across at her.

‘Your brother’s a paradox, you know,’ he said conversationally. ‘One of the best officers and soldiers I ever served with, but a stubborn son of a bitch. Sometimes I
think he used to disobey orders just to see what chaos he might cause.’

‘I thought that Marine Corps officers would be beyond that kind of thing,’ Natalie said. ‘All by the book and ship-shape.’

Jarvis chuckled.

‘If only. Officers are the worst law-breakers sometimes.’

‘You were a captain in the corps yourself, weren’t you?’ she asked sweetly.

Jarvis inclined his head as he stirred his coffee. ‘Touché,’ he said, ‘although I was going to add that those same officers only break the rules to protect and to
serve.’

‘Of course,’ Natalie agreed. ‘Ethan loved the corps. I think he only left to be closer to Joanna.’

Jarvis slowed in his stirring, pulled the spoon out and set it down.

‘You’re here for something, Natalie,’ he said finally. ‘You could be here on behalf of the Congressional committee but they’re investigating the CIA, not us, so I
have to ask why you are here.’

Natalie silently inhaled and ordered her thoughts. Jarvis was a straight talker, which helped, but it also meant that he was a sharper tool than most and wouldn’t be easy to trip up.

‘What kind of work does Ethan do for the agency?’ she asked.

‘I’m not at liberty to answer that question,’ Jarvis replied, and took a sip of his coffee.

‘How does the agency feel about having a private contractor working on some of its most classified projects?’

‘I’m not in a position to ponder the preferences of this agency, only to achieve results from our investigations as best as I can with the resources at hand.’

Natalie bit her lip and went for the kill.

‘Congress cannot access much of the material that we know is handled here on a daily basis, but we can organize a complete and thorough access to the files of Warner & Lopez Inc, and
by way of that obtain warrants for relevant and connecting files within the DIA.’