Alienation (11 page)

“Take a seat,” the agent said, pushing Colt into the nearest chair.

He stumbled, wrenching his bruised shoulder as he fell back. His vision was still a bit blurred and his head pounded from the creature's slamming him against the cinder block wall.

“Do you have any aspirin?” Colt asked, but the door opened before the agent could answer.

A thick man who was unexpectedly short walked into the room carrying a briefcase and looking harried.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said as he set his briefcase on the desk. “I trust you've been introduced to Agent Parks.” He nodded at the agent, who was now standing in the far corner.

The man removed his fedora, smoothing out hair that was wringed with sweat. “My name is Agent Hester, and I'm with—”

“The Department of Alien Affairs,” Colt said. “Yeah, I saw the badge.”

“Very good,” Agent Hester said as he flipped the briefcase open. “Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?”

“I was just asking Agent Parks for an aspirin,” Colt said.

“Well, that shouldn't be a problem.” He turned around to face Agent Parks. “You wouldn't mind, would you? Oh, and on your way out, could you remove the handcuffs? I don't think we'll be needing those any longer.”

Agent Parks hesitated, though only for a moment. Colt thought that he saw a sneer cross the man's lips. He had a feeling that Agent Parks minded very much, but he did as he was asked and removed the cuffs before leaving the room in search of the aspirin.

“Better?” Agent Hester pulled back his jacket to adjust his waistband, and as he did, Colt saw the Glock 22 that hung from a holster on his hip.

“Yeah, thanks,” Colt said, rubbing at his wrists. The two agents couldn't have been any more different, and it wasn't just their appearance. Agent Parks was intense, but Agent Hester was kind, almost gentle. It was the old good cop, bad cop routine that Colt had seen in dozens of movies, and he wasn't going to fall for it.

“I'll admit that when I got the call, I was surprised to hear who we had in custody,” Agent Hester said as he opened a manila folder and leafed through the pages. “I mean, what with your saving the world from those nasty lizard men, I feel as though I should be offering my sincerest gratitude, but . . . well, here we are.”

There was a long pause as he stopped at a sheet of paper, his pointer finger going over each line carefully as his eyes roved back and forth. “You realize, of course, that you have placed your position as a cadet at the CHAOS Academy in jeopardy.” He flipped the folder shut and tossed it into his briefcase. “They have strict rules when it comes to admittance, and I'm afraid a felony trespass won't do you any favors.”

Colt fidgeted in his chair. This was ridiculous. All he did was sneak into the feeding area of some intergalactic zoo. How was that a felony?

“Of course if you cooperate with our investigation, I might be able to help . . . though I can't make any promises. You understand.”

Not really, Colt thought. He didn't understand at all. “What investigation?”

Agent Hester pulled a metal disc from his briefcase and set it down on the desktop, just in front of where Colt was seated. “You wouldn't happen to know who this is, would you?” he asked. With the click of a button, a hologram flared to life. It was a perfect three-dimensional replica of the man Colt had chased into the corridor, though he was only about the height of a ruler, if that. He stared at it for a moment, not sure what to say. For all he knew, Agent Hester was in on everything. His eyes went from the hologram to the gun and then back to the hologram. “It's the guy who was following us tonight,” he finally said.

“Interesting.” Agent Hester scratched his chin. “His name—at least so far as we know—is Heinrich Krone. He's a former member of Germany's federal intelligence service, who is currently working as an assassin for hire. And he's also one of the Thule, as you recently discovered. But I'm sure you knew all this already.”

Colt frowned. “No, I didn't.” He thought back to what Ms. Skoglund had told him. As much as he didn't want to believe that someone at CHAOS wanted him dead, things weren't looking good.

“I see.” Agent Hester stared at Colt through his glasses as though he were a human polygraph machine. “Then you had no idea that he is one of the Thule, or that he had a known relationship with Aldrich Koenig, the former president of Trident Biotech? Or that he has received multiple payments from accounts associated with the Central Headquarters Against the Occult and Supernatural?”

“Look, all I know is that we came here to see the exhibit and some creep started following us,” Colt said, sitting back in the chair. “I didn't know who he was, so when I saw him slip behind the door, I decided to get a closer look. The next thing I know, someone slams me up against the wall, and then one of your agents points a gun at my head. The guy who hit me gets away, and somehow I'm the one who ends up in handcuffs.”

The door opened, and Agent Parks walked in carrying a small bottle of aspirin and a glass of water, which he handed to Colt. “We're going to have to let him go,” he said as though the words were bile in his mouth.

Agent Hester looked confused. “Excuse me?”

“The bureau chief just got a call,” Agent Parks said. “The kid has friends in high places.”

“Apparently so.” Agent Hester looked crestfallen.

“His grandfather is on his way to pick up him up, and from what I've been told, he ain't happy. You know who he is, right?”

Agent Hester nodded. “Yes, yes. The Phantom Flyer, America's one true superhero. I read the comics when I was a boy.”

Colt felt the tension leave his body as Agent Hester paced with his fingers locked behind his back. His neck was a peculiar shade of red that crept up his cheeks and onto his forehead like the rising temperature on a thermometer. Colt couldn't tell if he was embarrassed or upset, though he had a feeling it was a bit of both.

“This certainly complicates things, doesn't it?”

“Does that mean I can go?” Colt asked as he stood up.

“Yes, I suppose it does,” Agent Hester said. “But before I forget, we found this in the corridor.” He pulled Ms. Skoglund's flash drive out of his breast pocket and handed it to Colt. “I don't suppose you'd like to make any comments about Operation Nemesis? Or why your name shows up on a list of people who are no longer alive?”

:: CHAPTER 20 ::

B
y the time Colt was released, Lily was already gone. Her father had picked her up and taken her home before Colt had a chance to say good-bye, much less explain everything that had happened. Maybe that was a good thing, Colt thought. After all, he wasn't sure if he could explain it even if he had the chance.

Agent Hester led Colt out of the office and back to the exhibit area where Grandpa was talking to an older man. He was tall and slender, with perfect posture, and his sun-bronzed skin was a striking contrast to his impossibly white hair.

“I hate to interrupt, but . . .” Agent Hester let the words hang in the air as Grandpa and the other man turned to them.

“You must be Colt,” the man said. “It's a pleasure.” He offered his hand, which was soft and smooth, as though he frequently applied cream. Yet despite that and his manicured fingernails, his grip was strong.

“This is Agent Montgomery,” Grandpa said by way of introduction. His tone was even, but his eyes were furious. “He's the local bureau chief for the DAA.”

“Nice to meet you,” Colt said.

“I wanted to personally apologize for our overzealous behavior tonight.” Agent Montgomery applied a smile that looked like it was stolen from the face of a used car salesman. “As you can imagine, my agents have been through quite a lot these last few weeks. Still, it doesn't excuse the terrible mix-up. I hope you'll be able to forgive us.”

“They were just doing their jobs.” Colt looked over his shoulder at the exit sign. Agent Montgomery gave him the creeps. Besides, he wanted to at least text Lily to see if she was okay.

“Thank you,” Agent Montgomery said. “You'll be happy to know that we confiscated the pictures that were taken earlier. You know, the ones that showed you in a bit of a compromised position?”

“I appreciate that,” Colt said, almost dismissively. He didn't want the world to see him in handcuffs, but he had bigger issues at the moment. “Did you find the guy who attacked me?”

“The shapeshifter?” Agent Montgomery looked over to Agent Hester, who shook his head. “I'm afraid not, though we have some of our best agents tracking him right now. With any luck, he'll be apprehended within the hour and we'll be able to get to the bottom of this mess.”

“Then we'll leave that in your capable hands,” Grandpa said. He placed his hand on Colt's shoulder and steered him toward the exit sign.

“Oh, and, Murdoch,” Agent Montgomery said, calling after Grandpa. “Please contact me if you see anything unusual. You have my direct line.”

“I'll be sure to do that.”

“Do you know that guy or something?” Colt asked as they got into Grandpa's 1946 Cadillac Coupe. The car looked like a hot rod, with a long front end, a chrome grill, and black paint that shone beneath the portable lights in the parking lot.

“Agent Montgomery?” he asked with a snort. “He used to work for CHAOS.”

“What's his deal?”

“He's what you might call an opportunist.” Gravel crunched under the tires as he pulled out of the parking spot, headlights cutting through the darkness. “In his world justice comes secondary to publicity and promotion. But I'm not worried about Montgomery right now. I want to know how long that thing has been after you.”

His tone was harsh, and Colt shrank back into his seat like a puppy that had been scolded for chewing up a pair of slippers. “I don't know.”

“Don't give me that,” Grandpa said as he looked into the rearview mirror. “The Thule secrete a kind of fear toxin that paralyzes their victims. You start to panic, your skin gets covered in gooseflesh, and the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. Sound familiar?”

Colt shrugged. “Yeah, I guess,” he said. “The first time I noticed anything was the other day when you went down to Tucson. I was in the hallway, and it felt like someone was watching me from the front window. Just like you said, the hair on the back of my neck stood up and I could hardly breathe.” He went on to explain how he saw the glowing eyes in the rearview mirror at the park and how the robot flipped out at Oz's house and nearly killed him. Then he repeated everything that Ms. Skoglund had told him.

“That much I knew,” Grandpa said, to Colt's surprise. “She stopped by the house after you left, and I told her where you were.

If I had known you were going to go chasing after trouble, I would have had her bring you home.”

“Trust me, that won't happen again.”

“We'll see about that,” Grandpa said. He turned the dial on the radio until it played big band music. “So, tell me, who else knows about this mess?”

Colt shrugged. “Nobody, really. I mean, I guess Ms. Skoglund does, but that's it.”

“You haven't said anything to Danielle or Oz?”

“Not yet. I mean, what would I say? It's not like I had any proof.” Colt tried to let it all sink in, relieved that he could finally talk to someone. “Do you really think someone from CHAOS is trying to kill me?” He paused. “You know, like Lobo?”

“Lobo came from a rough background. His father was shot when he was young, and his mother dealt and abused drugs, so she spent a good deal of time in and out of prison. Without good role models, he got involved with gangs. In fact, the only reason he joined the service was to avoid a prison sentence, but eventually he got his act together. The man worked harder than anyone I know, but he was overlooked for promotions because the top brass couldn't look past that rough exterior. Still, he never gave up. In fact, it only made him work harder. He fought for every scrap, and now that he's the director of CHAOS, he's not going to go down without a fight.” Grandpa sighed. “I told them this would happen, but they insisted on privatizing the agency and putting him in charge.” He shook his head. “Fools.”

Colt watched as the desert landscape blurred outside his window. The hum of the tires rolled over the asphalt as he mulled his future. He was about to enter into a military training program where the director of the agency wanted him dead. It didn't seem like a terribly good idea on any level. “What's going to happen,” he asked. “I mean, should I even go to Virginia?”

“Ultimately that's a decision only you can make,” Grandpa said. “You were put on this earth for a purpose, and it's up to you with the good Lord's help to discover what that is. But you need to understand that there's nowhere you can hide that Lobo won't be able to find you.”

There was a sound like an engine, and Colt looked in the rearview mirror to see a single headlight dart between an SUV and a semi-trailer truck. The rider on the back of the motorcycle revved the throttle, and the front tire pulled off the asphalt. He was going fast enough that if he hit a patch of gravel, he wasn't going to survive the crash—even with the helmet.