Monster Hunter Nemesis (36 page)

“Yeah . . . I can’t believe that son of a bitch Stricken would pull a false flag against the MCB. Archer’s been going over the evidence with me. There are too many parts where the video doesn’t match up with the forensic evidence, but they’ve been keeping the details from the rank and file. I knew it was bullshit. There was no way you were behind that attack . . . There were way too many survivors.”

Franks nodded. He appreciated the compliment.

“So what’s Myers’ plan?”

Since he didn’t know what lies Jefferson had constructed, Franks wasn’t quite sure of that either. “We take down Nemesis. Expose everything.”

“To those pussies on the Subcommittee? How’re we going to do that?”

“A raid.”

“On what?”

“No idea yet.”

“We’re on our own. I don’t even have my air assets. There’s no backup. Without orders from on high, you realize I’m aiding and abetting right now. If we move on this with you, we’re committing I don’t even know how many felonies. Not just me, all my men. They’re volunteers, Franks. This is off the books. We’re hanging our asses out in the wind because we trust you, and that’s asking a lot, but if Myers says this is how it is, then that’s how it is . . . I was hoping he’d be with you.”

“Myers is dealing with the higher-ups now,” Franks said, and he meant every word of it.

Cueto studied him for a long time. “You’d be a right-hard bastard to play poker against . . . Level with me, Franks. Dwayne is dead, isn’t he?”

Franks paused. There was no use in dragging this out. “Yes.”

“I’ll give it to Grant. The kid’s got skills, but you can’t bullshit somebody with a twenty-year career in professional government bullshitting.” Cueto sighed. “I thought something was up.”

“Why are you here then?”

Cueto reached up, placed one hand on Franks’ shoulder, and looked him square in the eyes, an act which took a lot of balls. “Because Myers was smarter than either of us, and he warned me months ago to be ready for some big clandestine bullshit. Because I know you’re a cold-ass motherfucker, but everything you do, no matter how squirrely it might seem, is always for the safety of this country. Because Stricken is a power-grubbing piece-of-shit wannabe tyrant and I didn’t sign up to work for the fucking Gestapo. But mostly because I took an oath to defend this nation from enemies foreign and domestic, and it don’t get more foreign than the fucking devil.” Cueto let go of Franks and stepped back. “That’s why.”

“Thanks.” There he was, using that word again. The last week had set a new record for him.

“Every last one of my boys would say the same thing, only they won’t ever have to, because if we get burned I’ve already instructed them to blame me and tell the authorities that I lied and said you were undercover the whole time, and I ordered them to help you.”

“Good idea.”

“Not really. If we get caught I intend to say the same thing, only that I got my orders from Myers, and they’re going to have a hell of a time interrogating him. Passing the blame is Fed 101. Now let’s go plan this illegal operation of yours.”

They started back, but Franks paused to take a long look around. It was still easy to pick out the rocky ridge where he’d first met General Washington. The place really hadn’t changed that much.

“You okay, Franks?”

He’d been thinking about the hundreds of worthwhile humans he’d known, and how almost all of them were gone now, their brief lives sacrificed in the pursuit of something greater than themselves, but Franks just shook his head and kept walking.

“I’ve got something interesting in that area, Franks,” Archer shouted when he saw them returning to the armored truck. “The only thing there is an old airfield with a few small hangar buildings on it. It’s privately owned now by a shell corporation that doesn’t seem to do anything else. No neighbors, on the end of an isolated road, and there’s plenty of land to hide something big. Stricken’s got a rep for being a hands-on guy, so this is close enough for him to visit and still commute to do his regular advisor job. And it is a quick chopper flight from where they went after you at the shipyard. If it smells like a secret base . . .”

If it had been anybody other than Archer, he would have yelled at them for checking information that was surely flagged to warn Stricken, but this was Archer they were talking about, and Franks had heard that particular agent even had to take pills to keep his OCD in check. If anybody could poke around in that stuff and not tip off STFU, it was Archer. “Any other potential ties?”

“I just checked the property records. The place was owned by the Air Force up until the eighties.”

“Underground bunker?”

“No record, but it wouldn’t surprise me.” Archer turned the laptop so Franks could see the map. Even one of the most well equipped tactical teams in the world still used Google Earth. “You think this is where they’re building Nemesis soldiers?”

“It’s probable.” Judging by the cloud of demonic spirits hanging around the place, absolutely, but since the others wouldn’t be able to see them, talking about them would just complicate matters.

Cueto moved in to get a better look at Archer’s screen. “That’s a good size chunk of property. They’ll see us coming for sure.” It didn’t matter how much combat experience any particular operative had, Franks had more. “How do you want to play this?”

“Drop men off to approach through the trees here and here. Have your sniper team walk to that hilltop.” Franks pointed at the screen. “They’ll see us coming, but the rest of us will crash our up-armors through the fence there. Spread out, clear the buildings.”

“I don’t have that many men, Franks. Hate to break it to you, but you’re not that popular.”

“I’ll handle it. How are you set for equipment and explosives?”

“Lucky for you the Strike Team got an anonymous but credible report of a hydra in the area, so I checked out everything I could from the inventory. Just from what I’ve got in this truck we could invade and conquer Canada.”

He had lost the case containing his old armor at the shipyard. “Got any armor for me?”

“Why no, Agent Franks, I thought me checking out some sextuple-X big and tall—or whatever the fuck size you are—body armor out of the inventory might have been a touch suspicious. I already had to fabricate an emergency so we could sneak out of the manhunt for a few hours. I guess you can borrow one of my vests, but it would fit you like a tactical sports bra.”

He’d hoped for armor, but this suit would do. At least Franks would go into battle with class. “Our objectives are to secure the Nemesis facility as proof of Stricken’s treason, arrest the STFU that cooperate and shoot the rest, and eliminate all Nemesis soldiers.”

“You don’t want us to capture one for questioning? That could help clear your name.”

Franks shook his head. “Too dangerous.” Plus, there were some things that should never be brought up during an interrogation. “Shoot them on sight.”

“According to your guys, they look like people, so how will we know?”

“Trust me. You’ll know,” Archer interjected.

“Noted, but still, I don’t know how you expect us to do all that with only twenty-five men before Stricken gets reinforcements here.”

A loud air horn honked on the other side of the trees.

Franks nodded toward the road. “That should be our backup.”

Cueto’s radio chirped.
“Delta Six, this is Lookout, there’s a coach approaching your position.”

“Say again, Lookout, what do you mean by coach?”

“Passenger coach. I mean it’s a bus like one of those big ones that old people and tourists take tours to the Grand Canyon on.”

“Tell your men to stand down,” Franks ordered. “They’re with me.”

A minute later a gigantic pink and grey bus pulling a cargo trailer rolled into the clearing.

“If they’re with you, how about we crash that ugly-ass barge through Stricken’s fence and not scratch the paint on my armored vehicles?” Cueto suggested as Franks approached the bus.

The hydraulic doors opened. Gutterres got out first. He must have met them down the road. “Hello, Franks. My people have arrived.”

“It was hard to miss.”

“Don’t judge. It’s a rental. It’s what they had at the airport.” Men began to get off the bus behind Gutterres. They were dressed in unremarkable civilian clothing, but every one of them was young, large of stature, and so fit they appeared to be built of solid muscle. The new arrivals cautiously studied the MCB while whispering to each other in German.

“So . . . We’re not just moving against part of our own government, but we’re doing it with a bunch of foreign nationals? Fucking lovely. You got any more surprises for me today, Franks?”

“Probably.”

“I’m Special Agent Cueto of the MCB. Who the fuck are you guys?” he shouted.

Gutterres gave him an innocent smile. “I’d prefer not to say. All that matters today is that we’re on the same side.”

“Great. More secrets.”

“Would it help if I told you we actually have
secret
in our name? It’s kind of like our thing.”

“They’re okay,” Franks assured Cueto. He turned back to Gutterres. “Did you bring your combat exorcists?”

“What the fuck? Never mind, I’d rather not know. I’ll see to my men. You see to your exorcists or whatever these tourists are.” Cueto threw his hands in the air as he walked away, muttering to himself.

“He seems like a nice guy.” Gutterres stood next to Franks and watched Cueto go. “I figured it was best not to complicate matters by revealing who we work with, though when the Founding Fathers spoke about the separation of church and state this probably wasn’t what they had in mind. So, are we ready to go kick some demon ass or what?”

Franks spotted one of the MCB men standing off to the side, listening, wearing a balaclava and trying not to look suspicious. He frowned. “Go to the truck. Get briefed.” Franks ditched the Secret Guard. The masked MCB agent didn’t try to retreat as Franks headed straight toward him, which confirmed his suspected identity. Franks got right up in his face. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Strayhorn pulled the mask off. “Too bad. I already am.”

Myers had wanted this agent alive to testify before the Subcommittee. Their operation had a very high probability of failure and Franks was expecting casualties. “We need our witness.”

“You’re a witness too, and I don’t see you sitting it out. Besides, I already recorded my testimony and signed an affidavit. It’s been sent. We both know it probably won’t make any difference anyway. Stricken will weasel out of it unless we have something solid.”

“Stay here. That’s an order.”

“I don’t think you’re exactly in good enough standing with MCB authority to be giving orders right now,
Pops.
”

His first inclination was to club Strayhorn over the head, cuff him, and lock him in the church until the mission was over . . . But technically that might have been child abuse. This whole
parent
thing was very complicated. “I’ll have Cueto order you to stay.”

“Fine. I resign.” Strayhorn took out his MCB badge and tossed it over one shoulder. “I only joined up because of family curiosity anyway. MCB methods suck. I think the First Reason is bullshit. Now I’m just a civilian out for a nature walk,” he glanced down at the FN SCAR slung across his chest, “with my assault rifle.”

“I’ll have them arrest you.”

“But pursuant to MCB regulation eighty-two section fifteen, you can only detain civilians if you are on a sanctioned operation, which I’m pretty damned sure this isn’t.”

Franks scratched his head. He wasn’t even sure if that was a real regulation. Franks normally had handlers to keep track of the minutiae so he could concentrate on the important things. The rookie was remarkably obstinate. He must have gotten that from his mother.

“Look, Franks, I have to do this. Myers raised me and saved my life. You can’t tell me I’m too close, or I’m making it personal, because we both know the real reason why you’re here. Stricken killed my dad, he killed my training officer, he got me shot a few times, and I’m pissed off, okay? I want to be there when you put Stricken in the ground. I want to help. I
need
to help.”

Franks really could use another capable gunman. “I don’t have time to babysit. Jefferson. Come here.”

He ran over. “Yes, sir?” He saw that Franks was talking to Strayhorn. “I warned him not to come but he wouldn’t—”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, sir.” Jefferson snapped to attention.

“The rookie stays with you the whole time. He is your responsibility. If he dies, I’ll be
disappointed
.”

“Wait . . . What does that entail?”

“If he dies, you’ll be punished,” Franks stated. “I’ll think of something appropriate.”

The very nervous MCB agent asked, “What if I die?”

“Shit happens.” Franks turned and began walking back to the command truck.

Jefferson must have forgotten about Franks’ excellent hearing, because he whispered to Strayhorn. “That’s just what I needed, bodyguarding the Son of Frankenstein.”

“Kiss my ass, Grant. If I’m the Son of Frankenstein that means you and Archer must be Laurel and Hardy.”

Franks surveyed his team. The Strike Team was solid, and they trusted his leadership enough to be here despite great personal risk. The Secret Guard and their Swiss muscle were an unknown, but if they fought half as well as the ones who’d tried to take Franks back in Germany, they’d do. This was as good as it was going to get.

It was time to send Kurst back to Hell.

* * *

The disembodied demon’s report had been intriguing. Franks was approaching the bunker. He would arrive at the Nemesis facility soon, and he would not be alone. He promised the demons he would reward them for their loyalty by granting them bodies, then dismissed them. Kurst had not planned on making his move against Stricken this quickly, but his hand was being forced. It was one thing to hunt for Franks, but something else entirely to be hunted by him. These new bodies were too good, and the ability to make more of them was far too important to the future of the host to leave it entirely in Stricken’s care.

They had observed their human controllers and made their contingency plans well in advance. They were outnumbered and unarmed, but it wouldn’t matter. The humans put far too much faith in their implanted kill switches. Kurst gave the telepathic order.
Today is our day. Each of you knows what to do. Inform me when the command center has been taken.