The Last Operation (The Remnants of War Series, Book 1) (18 page)

Daniels kept remembering what Conboy and Coronado had told him the previous night. They'd been sitting across from him in the safe house on Okeelache Island, Daniels' Glock resting on the low table between them.

"A bio-engineered soldier?" Daniels had asked.

"Yes Mr. Daniels, a bio-engineered soldier. You see, as early as the mid-eighties the National Security Agency and the CIA both knew the face of warfare would change. We knew the fall of the Soviet Union would herald a new era in terms of the security of the United States. The World Trade Center attack and subsequent wars in Iraq and Afghanistan proved this beyond any doubt. Our conventional and nuclear forces can only provide a part of our security such as during the Gulf War and in Afghanistan. Our other security needs loomed unfulfilled before us. It is more insidious, more threatening in its own way. There are dozens of national, political and ethnic groups arrayed against us. The technology is now widely available for any well-financed group to strike out at us through a variety of methods including suitcase low yield nuclear weapons and long-range missiles. Conventional forces, even our Special Forces will not always be able to find and stop them, and even though we got Bin Laden eventually, look how long it took us, and there are hundreds of Bin Ladens out there."

"And the answer was some sort of super soldier?"

"Absolutely. We need soldiers that will break all bounds of human limitations. Such soldiers will be to current warfare what a modern missile is to an ancient Roman catapult."

"So you created those soldiers?"

"Yes, One. You might call him a prototype. What is not known by the public is that a lot of the advances in medicines and biology is the result of surreptitious funding of numerous laboratories and research organizations by SDA who in turn has unlimited funding through the NSA. Gene therapies and cloning are just a few applications of our research. The main thrust is in our black-funded special laboratories. These labs are the most highly kept secrets of our government. That is where we produced our bio-engineered new warrior."

"What you're saying is you created a new human being."

"In a sense, yes. Gilbert is essentially a new form of human. We took an existing well trained, and well motivated soldier, a Marine Long-range Recon Captain and gave him, through bio-engineering, capabilities no human could ever have before. What would you say are the four most important traits of the Special Forces soldier?"

"Training, motivation, adaptability, survival skills," replied Daniel.

"Correct. Training and motivation we already had, bio-engineering gave us the ultimate in adaptability and survival. Nature provides adaptability and survival through evolution, we have simply learned to accelerate the process. There is life in the harshest climates on the planet. It has taken nature thousands of years to develop that life to withstand the environments. Our bio-engineered soldier takes a mere two to three days."

"To do what," said Daniel, "grow thick skin or something? How exactly does he adapt?"

"We are still studying the process. There is a lot we don't understand. We don't quite know why it works, but we do know
how
it works. It has been about ten days since our soldier has landed in the Everglades. By this time his body will have changed, taking some of the characteristics of the best surviving local species: Reptiles and insects. His skin will have thickened so it is impenetrable by any natural means, his musculature will have increased, probably by forty to fifty percent. He will have developed natural defenses and weapons, venom or claws. He will thrive no matter how harsh the environment. This was the first field test. He was airdropped over the Everglades. His mission was to observe a certain area and report back after five days. It was to be a simple test, but something went wrong. We must capture him and bring him back alive at all costs."

"Charming mission. No wonder you used dirtbag tactics to get me onboard. Sure, I'll track him down for you. I have no choice, but your day of reckoning will come."

"Perhaps on that day Mr. Daniels, you'll consider the services we have rendered and the importance of keeping our country safe for our millions of innocent citizens. I hope you will consider all that Mr. Daniels."

"I take it this Gilbert is the Marine Captain we're hunting," said Daniels, turning to Conboy. "Just how well do you know this man?"

"Very well," said Conboy, "We have worked with him over the last two years."

* * *

They were up before dawn the next day. Carlos appeared accompanied by a Navy Seal Team Sergeant in full jungle gear. Conboy had briefed them.

"The Captain's metabolism has radically changed," Conboy explained. "His body temperature is a constant 101.8, a high fever in a human, normal for him. A defense satellite is assigned to this area on twenty-four hour monitoring. It scans with our latest top-secret heat-sensing detection devices. It's been programmed to locate and pinpoint anything man-size with an exact temperature of 101.8 and sends it to this laptop in real time. The computer displays a local map and identifies the quarry as a blinking circle. Our location is a steady X. The computer tracks and displays both. When we reach him, we have these," he said, displaying a pair of Sig-Sauer long nosed automatic pistols sporting thick circular revolving barrels.

"Those babies will fire a cloud of Flechettes, darts tipped with a nerve agent that should bring on paralysis for about a twelve hour period."

Daniels felt a sudden wave of pity for this Captain Gilbert. Service to his country had apparently turned him into some sort of freak. Something had gone wrong in his mind. He would be hunted down with inexorable technology and tranquilized with darts like a wild animal.

"What kind of a team did you send in?"

"Three Army Special Forces jungle warfare experts. The best we have. We lost contact within two days. We don't know what happened. We're assuming the worst," said Conboy.

Daniels was glad he had not brought Bobby-Ray into the fray at this point. He had called him last night, told him he would be involved in something that might or might not require his help at some point.

"Hey a tactical move right?" Bobby-Ray had said. "I'm your reserve, is that it?"

"Something like that," Daniels had replied.

"Okay, I'll be around and ready if you need another gun slinger, meanwhile I took your advice. I had the amulet I took off the dead guy X-rayed. It turned out to be hollow. I cut it open and there was a CD ROM inside, the new small kind. I looked at it on my PC and it's filled with coded data, simple binary code. I should be able to break it with my programs in a day or two."

* * *

They'd glided in cottony silence. Inflatable camouflaged commando boats moving in a watery whisper along the natural channel connected to Daniel's base into an area of saw grass and deeper channels. The plastic paddles entered the water causing just the barest of swirls from their experienced hands. Between the channels stood islands of dwarf cypress and occasional oaks. They passed by some trashing alligators, tearing at unrecognizable prey as two otters flashed among them, too fast for the slower predators.

Conboy operated the laptop while the unseen satellite scanned the steaming grounds of the great swamp for its quarry. They moved the boats in great slow expanding circles through the languid hot greenhouse that was the Everglades. The temperature rose and rose as if it would compete with the bowels of hell. It had been a record year for heat and it surely wasn't getting better this day as the sun climbed to the noon position. The men sweated in rivulets that slid down the brown and green camo painted on their faces. They drained cases of plastic water bottles and sprayed insect repellent. Great bubbles of swamp gas rose from the depths below and burst at the surface in deep plopping noises and a stench that left a noxious film in their nasal passages. The sun baked down on them like incandescent hardscrabble. Conboy had changed the laptop batteries twice and still no blinking circle to indicate their target, just the steady X representing their location.

They'd traveled at least a dozen miles and into the middle of the afternoon when Conboy yelled out:

"There it is, there's the son of a bitch," as he pointed at a blinking red circle on the shielded laptop screen. He passed the laptop to Daniels who lined it up with the small SATNAV fixed to the front of the boat and started tracking.

Daniels followed the blinking circle representing the moving objective. The circle would disappear for stretches varying from seconds to several minutes as the satellite and computer lost and regained the signals. The blinking circle moved much slower than its hunters as they steadily closed the gap through the remainder of the day.

The sun was low on the horizon when Daniels led the boats into a deep narrow channel. Overhead the buttonwoods and black mangrove formed a canopy choked with vines that created its own depth of darkness. The five men wore earphones with wire thin microphones fixed at chin level on jungle fatigues. Daniels' eyes were fixed on the digital computer screen where the X was now almost touching the blinking circle.

"Heads up," he whispered, his voice clear and soft in each man's earphone. "He's close, should see him any minute."

They scanned the sides of the channel, so close to them, choked by the white roots of the buttonwoods. The boats swooshed by quietly, every movement of the paddles raising a little silent swirl of water, as the grips tightened nervously on the Sig-Sauers. The atmosphere was thick and oppressive with tons of humidity. It was that time, just at dusk, where the day creatures burrow in and the night hunters are not yet out. Not a scrap of breeze to stir anything or cause the slightest noise. They felt the silence, husky and intense, a presence that surrounded each man with an ominous aura.

Daniels stopped the boats as the X and the blinking circles converged on the dimmed computer screen. Close as it was, the other boat was barely visible. Daniels was about to give the order to put on the night vision goggles when it happened.

It was like a sudden detonation had overtaken the bow of the leading boat as the nightmare exploded out of the depth. Daniels' impression was of impossible height for a man jumping out of the water. But then it really wasn't a man anymore. The features were blurred in the gloom of twilight but the skin had a glow that was more than could be caused by the sheen of the mucky water. The arm came up quick as a scorpion's stinger. It was too long for any human, the forearm stretched at least twice normal and not round like a human forearm but with the leading edge tapering to a hard razor-like edge. The Sergeant in the front of the boat raised the Sig-Sauer but before he could pull the trigger, the distorted, terrible forearm whistled down with implacable speed.

Both the Sergeant's arms were severed in an exploding cloud of blood and bone, the left arm at the shoulder, the right above the elbow. He cried out, just for a split second as the forearm swung back in a numbingly fast return stroke that severed windpipe, jugular and most of the bones of the neck. The Sergeant's mutilated corpse fell back out of the boat, the head lolling, hanging by a thin strip of flesh.

Daniels fired a burst from the rocking platform of the inflatable and missed. The flechettes whistled above the creature's head as it slashed down, tearing the tough fabric of the inflatable. Carlos tried to fire but the gun was knocked from his hand as the creature swung again. This time a slash appeared across his chest as Carlos fell back in the stern of the now sinking boat, knocking Coronado down under him.

Daniels tried desperately to line up another shot. Before he could pull the trigger, the staccato hammering of a heavy automatic weapon came from behind him as Conboy stitched a half dozen rounds into the front of the boat.

It was too late. The creature had vanished back into the water. Daniels threw four concussion grenades around them in rapid successions. He paddled his boat until it was touching the other. He pulled Carlos aboard, blood pouring in a pulsing red stream from his chest. Conboy pulled Coronado in just moments before the destroyed boat sank, pulled down by the gear.

Maroon satin pulsed and spread from the slash in the center of Carlos' chest as Daniels pressed bandages into the wound. The blood slowed to a trickle and slowly turned black as it coagulated.

Daniels knew the only hope Carlos had was to reach Spirit Wolf. Spirit Wolf had told him that the Everglades held as many things that could heal as could kill. You just had to be sure which was which. Spirit Wolf always knew.

They had no idea if they'd caused any damage to the monstrosity that had attacked them with such devastating efficiency. The computer and satellite uplink went to the bottom of the channel during the brief fight. They had no way of knowing where the creature was at this moment.

Chapter 25