Return of the Phoenix - 01 (27 page)

25

Jack made landfall a lot sooner than he expected. The Monterey open bow craft had skimmed the surface of the water at sixty knots, and apparently the island was a lot closer than he had expected. A group of men were waiting at the dock and threw a line to the approaching craft. Jack grabbed it and pulled them in alongside the floating dock. The boat’s pilot never moved from behind the wheel, but he handed him a satellite phone. “When you’re ready to return, I’m speed dial pound-sign-one. I can be back within the hour,” he said and shot Jack a wink. Jack took the phone, but wasn’t sure if he ever would return.

He walked to the rear of the craft and one of the men e
xtended a hand to help pull him to the floating dock. “Your car is waiting outside the gate. Fully fueled. Government plates, as requested.” He reached inside his bomber jacket and retrieved an overstuffed envelope. “Travelling money.”

Jack felt the heft of the package. Good grief, he wasn’t tra
velling Europe, he was just travelling up the state of Texas and into central Oklahoma. “Overkill?” he asked.

“Rufus takes care of his people,” the man said. “Besides, you may need to hire backup or acquire more firepower, or…whatever.”

“This isn’t a raid,” Jack explained. “It’s a…diplomatic mission.”

The men raised eyebrows and shot him quizzical looks. “Good luck with that.”

Jack considered their disbelief and realized that he was going to need all the luck he can get.

He grabbed the bag that Rufus had provided him and walked to the car they had provided. If he didn’t know any be
tter, he’d swear it was a government vehicle. Black SUV with government plates, just as requested. He glanced at the windshield and noted that it even had a base sticker from San Antonio.
Nice touch
. Should make entry a lot smoother.

Jack tossed his bag into the passenger seat, unhooked his P90 and laid it in the floor next to him and started the truck. He turned to the man in the bomber jacket. “Tell Rufus I’ll do the best I can, just like I told him. I’m going to drive straight through if I can.”

“Full moon’s tomorrow. You should have enough adrenaline pumping through you to make it,” he replied. He leaned against the window and added. “I meant it when I said good luck. There are a lot of us on the ground whose lives depend on your success.”

Jack nodded and put the truck into drive and pulled away. He took the first highway he found heading north and started working his way toward I-35. Thankfully, the wolves had put a Garmin GPS in the SUV to make the trip a bit easier. The har
dest part was keeping the cruise control set at the speed limit and not flooring the accelerator. He was in for a long trip. He longed for a good cup of coffee like the wolves made back at the island. Somehow, they knew how to make it so that it tasted good, unlike any other cup of coffee he had drank since the augmentation. His taste buds had changed, but his desires hadn’t.

Jack turned on the radio and flipped through the stations u
ntil he found one with old time rock and roll and settled back into the seat for the drive. Although he was as tense as he ever was prior to an operation, he did his best to try to relax. He may be going home, but this was no homecoming.

*****

Franklin was practically giddy when he returned home and walked through the door. He was actually whistling to himself as he came in through the kitchen entryway. He should have noticed the breeze blowing back through that slowly shut the kitchen door, but he didn’t. It wasn’t until he stepped into his study and saw Damien sitting behind his chair, his feet propped on his desk, that he even noticed the study window open. Franklin paused and set his briefcase next to his desk, then hung his suit coat on the coat tree in the corner.

“You have a key to the house, Damien. I don’t see why you insist on using the window.”

“Keeps my skills honed, father,” Damien said, scraping his nails clean with his father’s letter opener. “Somebody once told me to find my skill and exploit it.” He paused his nail cleaning and glanced at his father. “I think that somebody was…
you
?!” He chuckled to himself.

Franklin sighed. “Why must you be this way, son?” he asked. “Didn’t I provide for you? Send you to the best schools? Give you everything you could ever want?”

“Give it a rest, father. The things that I truly wanted, you didn’t have time for,” Damien stated. “But we’ve been down this road far too many times to rehash it now.” He took the letter opener and stabbed it into the desk while sitting up. “Look what you do to me, father! I’m a fucking vampire with daddy issues!” He burst out laughing.

Franklin hated it when Damien got like this. His outbursts were so unpredictable and with his strength and bloodlust, the violence was palpable. He bordered on insanity when he was human, but now that he was undead…he was completely u
nmanageable.

“But, father, there is one thing I’ve learned since being turned. Do you know what that is?” Damien asked, jumping up onto Franklin’s desk and squatting down like a gargoyle. “Never make the same mistake twice!” His maniacal laughter echoed out through the hallway. Franklin felt his hand begin to shake so he placed it behind his back in order that Damien couldn’t see it. Never show him fear, it only feeds his dementia. “But with you…now, with you, father, I make the same mistake five or six times. I just can’t help myself. You bring out the worst in me.”

“Why are you here, Damien?”

Damien instantly sobered. His hysterical laughter squelched. “How is your mind, father?”

“Clear as a bell,” he said honestly.

“You’re welcome.”

Franklin nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

“And Mitchell?” he practically spat the name out.

Now it was Franklin’s turn to allow his features to twist into an evil smile. “The wheels have already been put into motion. It seems that while the son-of-a-bitch may have screwed with my memory, during his interrogation, he forgot to ask one tiny little question. And that question is coming back to bite him in the ass.”

Damien turned a skeptical eye to his father. “What question is that, father?”

“If I still had the USB with the virus on me.” Franklin smiled. “You see, it not only held the virus that would try to connect their secure computers to the internet, but it also downloaded all of their data onto its flash-drive.”

Damien hiked a brow. It seems his father wasn’t a complete idiot after all.

“They were so busy trying to secure their computers again and drilling me with ‘why would I do this’ that they forgot all about the device I used. It was still in my trouser pocket when I returned home.”

“Where is it? I want to see it,” Damien demanded.

“Already sent to the hacker and released to the news agencies,” Franklin said with an evil smirk.

Damien’s eyes bugged out. “What?!” He jumped down from the desk and grabbed his father’s tie and pulled him closer to him. “Did you at least
check
the data first?!”

Franklin stuttered and stammered, “N-no! It was encrypted! I couldn’t have checked it even if I wanted to!”

“You fool!” Damien threw him across the study to crash into his mother’s armoire. “They could have compromised the drive and put anything they wanted on it!”

Franklin struggled to regain his footing. “They couldn’t. There was no way for them to access it. It was encrypted…”

“They have the best people on the planet working there,” he hissed. “There are no secrets to those who hold all the keys.”

Franklin was on his hands and knees. “You’ll see, son. You’ll see…” he gasped. “Tomorrow. Mitchell will be d
estroyed. He’ll be pulled out of the dark and into the light of the public eye. You’ll be safe my son. He won’t ever be able to touch you…ever.” Franklin lifted his eyes to plead to his son…but he was gone. A breeze blowing softly through the study window the only indication he had ever been there.

*****

“Jesus, Apollo, I think you could bench a friggin truck!” TD said, spotting for Apollo in the gym. The bar was so loaded that it curved in a distinct ‘u’ shape and Apollo stared intently at the ceiling, huffing and grunting as he pushed out the last rep.

TD helped him place the bar back on the rack and listened to the metal stress as it took the load, the clank of the Olympic plates a welcome sound. Apollo at up and Jimmy handed him a towel to wipe down. “I wish they would find something to give us a better work out besides this old stuff. It’s getting to where it’s barely a challenge anymore and we can’t fit anymore plates on the bar.”

“I’m telling ya, man. There’s a nice Toyota Tundra out in the parking lot!” TD joked.

Marshall stopped with the arm curls and turned to him, “I think that’s Spanky’s truck, dude. He may not appreciate you pressing it.”

Jimmy got a gleam in his eye. “Hey. Let’s go pick it up and move it!” The others groaned. “No, seriously. Let’s go stick it in between something so he can’t get it out!” he giggled. Marshall hooked his chin toward Jimmy and then pointed over his shoulder.

Jimmy turned around to be eye to sternum with Spanky. “Not a good idea, Tango. That truck is my baby.”

Jimmy looked up and smiled. “You know I was just messing around, right, Spank?”

“Mm-hmm. I’d say that too if I got busted.”

Apollo walked by and snapped Jimmy with his towel. “Busted!”

“Hey, I’m just trying to cook you up a better workout, Jolly Black Giant,” TD joked.

“Maybe we could find you something else to lift?” Marshall asked. “I think there’s a Humvee around here somewhere.” He laughed.

Apollo stopped and struck a pose, mocking the bodybuilders they’d all made fun of so many times before. Catcalls and whoops from the other guys in the gym echoed through the room and Apollo ate it up.  Changing poses and flexing his muscles for the crowd. He had just assumed the ‘crab’ position when he felt a pinch on his ass and he jumped, propelling himself forward into Wallace’s arms. Wallace, being so much shorter than Apo
llo, looked up at him, then abruptly dropped him to the floor to a roar of laughter. “Sorry, buddy, I don’t swing that way!”

Apollo quickly looked around for the offending pincher o
nly to find Sanchez standing in the doorway smiling at him. “Looked too good not to,” she quipped.

“Girl, you’re gonna get it now,” he said, scrambling to his feet.

She squealed and ran out of the gym with Apollo hot on her heels.

Jimmy stood there a moment staring after them. “Well, damn,” he said, disappointed. “He was supposed to spot me when I got through spotting him.”

“I have a feeling he’s going to be ‘spotting’ her,” Marshall quipped.

“Dude, how is it you can make
anything
sound dirty?” TD asked. “Seriously. Somebody ask you to change the oil in their car and you could make it sound dirty as hell.”

“It’s a talent.” Marshall grinned.

Sanchez ran by the door again squealing with Apollo hot on her heels still. TD walked to the door and watched them go down the hall. “I think he’s gaining on her.”

“She could give him the slip if she wanted. She’s slippery that way.” Marshall wiggled his eyebrows.

“Dude!” TD exclaimed. “Seriously? Again?”

“Tell me you haven’t thought about changing her oil…come on, tell me. We’ve all seen her naked,” he said. “Hell, I got a woman at every base I’ve been assigned, but I’d still use my di
pstick on her and check her oil level!”

“TMI!” TD said. “Come on, man. She’s Apollo’s woman for crying out loud.”

“And you’re telling me you wouldn’t do her?”

“Well, no. I mean, if she were single. And interested,” he admitted.

“Oh my God. You’re intimidated by her!” Marshall teased.

“For shit’s sake,” TD sighed, “I’m not intimidated. I like strong women.”

“Bullshit, man. You’re intimidated by her because she’s a hellcat. You’re scared she’d rip your balls off and wear them on a necklace.”

TD laughed. “Actually, dude, you couldn’t be more wrong. I’m more scared that
Apollo
would rip them off and flush them down the friggin toilet!”

Marshall simply nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Good point.”

26

Colonel Mitchell and Laura were going over the intel on recent activity. Laura checked for recent confirmations on the reports, and so far, none had been reconfirmed. The tension levels were high and the upcoming full moon had a lot to do with it. She knew from experience that the closer they got, the more the activity level would increase.

Matt slipped a flask from his front pocket and poured the contents into his coffee cup. Laura pretended not to see, she knew from their talk that the scotch would have little effect on his performance, but it would help calm the nervous tension building in his system. Rather than sip it, he tossed it back in one swallow and set the cup aside. The command center was basica
lly empty other than a couple of technicians who were preparing the equipment for the next operation. They, too, knew how the activity levels seemed to follow the lunar cycles.

The moon may only seem to control the werewolves, but it also gave the predators better light to hunt by and humans seemed compelled to act like complete and total idiots as the moon came closer to being full. Combine it all together and you have a recipe for disaster that they had to contend with.

Laura looked over the feedback reports from the crew monitoring the police reports and their field spotters for monster activity. They had geeks who did nothing else but scour the web and news reports for key words and patterns. Her gut told her that a shit-storm was brewing, and she was waiting for it to break. She could tell by Matt’s nervousness that he shared the sentiment.

All they could do was wait and prepare for a long night.

*****

Jack made good time. He counted down the miles as the signs rolled by, mile marker by mile marker. He tried his best to stop for fuel at smaller stations with the fewest people present. He caught fewer stares in his tactical gear at the smaller stations. It wasn’t easy driving all the way up from south Texas and kee
ping a low profile, but he was doing it. Keeping his speed at the posted limit and staying to the slow lane helped.

He had stayed on I-45 until he hit the Dallas metropolis, then worked his way across to I-35 and pointed the black SUV north again. It was too dark to be distracted by sites along the way and concentrating on driving was enough to drive him i
nsane. He glanced at his watch and figured he had about three hours left before he hit the gates at Tinker.

Jack played out the different scenarios in his mind over and over, trying to imagine how it might actually go down when he reported back to his unit. But he knew as well as anybody that no matter what contingencies he might plan for, it all goes out the window once his boots hit the ground. As far as he knew, the squad assumed him dead.

Jack chuckled to himself. They had called him Phoenix once after a particularly hairy incident with a pack of vamps in an abandoned school building. The squad had cut the gas line feeding the old building and let it fill with gas, then just before the building was set to be popped, the perch where Jack had been sitting overwatch to snipe any who attempted to escape broke loose and collapsed onto the decaying roof. He fell through the decaying roof and into the top story of the building. He knew he only had moments to get out of the building before the whole thing went up in flames and made a mad dash for the doors. The building went up in a fire ball just before he made the doors. It had blown him out of the open double doors and Jack was able to tuck and roll then come to his feet and walk away, but to his team, it appeared as if he simply walked out of the fire ball. The name Phoenix had stuck with him ever since.

“Well, if they think I’m dead and I come walking back in now, they’ll
really
think I’m a fucking Phoenix,” he said to himself. He ripped open a beef jerky he got from the shit-n-git and stuffed it in his mouth. He kept thinking about the team that he went into that op with. Rufus told him that none survived but him. He truly hoped that Rufus was wrong.

Jack patted the arm pocket on his BDU shirt. The satellite phone was still there. He considered calling Nadia, but…what would he say? What could he say? He didn’t even tell her good-bye before he left. He hated leaving that way, but he was hurt and didn’t know what to say. All he knew was, no matter what the squad might think or do, if they go on the defensive, he had to stay alive. For her sake.

He truly didn’t expect that they would fire on him, but he didn’t expect that they would accept him back with open arms. Best case scenario, many, many hours of debriefing, most likely followed by chemical questioning, and if he was lucky, they might not imprison him. In his mind, he technically turned coat by mating with a werewolf. And he agreed to help a vampire clan; albeit one who saved his life, and seemed completely non-threatening.

If he could only convince the colonel that Rufus was the real deal and that the squad was being used, then perhaps ma
ybe…just maybe he could accomplish his goal. Then they could toss him
under
the prison. As long as he could get Mitchell to listen to him.

That’s the key, though. Getting the skipper to listen to me.

*****

The night turned out to be uneventful. Laura spent the eve
ning taking catnaps in her office when she could. Matt checked in on her and even spread a blanket over her one time in the wee hours to keep her from catching a chill. He pulled the shades over the window in her office and switched off her desk lamp before he slipped out and quietly shut her door.

The adrenaline coursing through him had kept him from sleeping, but was leaving him feeling ragged. He almost looked forward to shifting at the full moon just to give his system a r
eset. His nerves were almost shot. Evan came up beside him with a foul smelling brew and handed it to him. “It will help, sir,” he said, offering the steaming cup.

“It smells like boiled assholes,” Matt said, handing the cup back.

“Probably tastes like it, too.” Evan smirked. “Just drink it. It will ease the nerves. May even ease your shift tonight as well.”

“Tonight? I lost track of time,” Matt said as he took the cup and, while holding his breath, drank it down.

“It’s nearly dawn, sir,” Evan said. “I’m about to head to bed myself.”

Matt stifled a belch, hoping dearly not to have to taste the concoction a second time. “Bed? I thought as long as you were down here, you didn’t fall prey to day/night cycles?” he asked.

“Usually, I don’t. But I’ve been going for days, and my mind could use the rest.”

“Roger that.” Matt looked into the cup and saw the black residue. “Bane?”

“Among other things, yes, sir.”

He nodded and handed the mug back. “Thank you, Evan. I do appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, colonel.”

“I think I’m going to go topside and watch the sun come up. Maybe help the squad pack some of the gear. They pretty much know that something will happen tonight. Always does on a full moon.”

“Roger that, sir.” Evan smiled at him.

*****

Senator Franklin waited impatiently by his television in his office. He wanted to see the first broadcasts from whoever had the nerve to report first about the Monster Squad and its illustrious leader and their wasteful appropriation of government funds. He was practically shaking with excitement and actually found himself biting at his fingernails...a habit he had spent years breaking himself of. He had arrived at his office in the wee hours of the morning and frantically switched from CNN, to FOX, to ABC, to MSNBC back to CNN and kept switching channels hoping to be the first to catch the breaking news.

Surely someone would see all of the CCs in the email and realize that
everybody
was being sent the information. Surely somebody would risk running the story first thing based on the official looking documents rather than trying to validate each one through some fact-finding fiasco? He was beginning to become impatient when he finally got to MSNBC and saw the footer that read, ‘Breaking Story’ and he turned up the volume, “This just in: In an apparent mass e-mailing to nearly every news agency from Senator Leslie Franklin’s private e-mail address comes this full-length video of the Senator with an unidentified male prostitute. We want to warn our viewers that although the video has been blurred out, you may want to remove your children from the room.”

Franklin dropped the remote to his television. “NO!” he screamed. “This is wrong! That’s not right!” His eyes focused on the red haired woman from New Orleans with the large cock that he was sure nobody knew of…and although the image was blurred, it was obvious that he, Senator Franklin, was on national television, sucking on that cock. It cut to another image that, al
though blurred, showed Senator Franklin on all fours with the red haired woman behind him, obviously giving it to him from behind. Her breasts and organ had been blurred out, but his face and the look of pure pleasure wasn’t.

Franklin fell to the floor of his office and felt all the blood leave his face. He could hear the reporter talking, but his mind wasn’t registering what was being said. His entire life flashed before his eyes and he wasn’t proud of what he saw. He felt his body begin to shake and he wished it was an earthquake, ope
ning up to swallow him whole and remove him from this nightmare. Scrambling across the rich carpeted floor, he scooped up the remote. Perhaps the other news agencies had more tact and refused to run it? Perhaps…no. There it was. He changed the channel again. There he was, the blurred image of the redhead’s cock in his mouth, his tongue sliding up and down. At the bottom of the screen, it read ‘For the unedited version go to our website…’ 

Franklin screamed and threw the remote at the flat screen, but it refused to break. One corner of the screen glowed blue with tints of green, but the redhead continued to pump it to him from the rear. He curled up in the fetal position to cry just as his cell phone began to ring. He ignored it. He had to. People couldn’t know already. There had to be a way to take it back. To deny it. He could claim it was all faked in order to discredit him…that was it…maybe people would believe it.

Franklin slowly made his way to his feet and looked at his watch. It was early. Very early. Surely nobody else was here yet. He could slip out of the offices and go back home. He could hide there until things blew over. Surely they’d all forget in a day or two. What was the name of that one senator who got caught screwing his au pair? Right?! Nobody remembers. It was old news.

The image of him and the redhead flashed in his mind again and he retched in his trash bin. He had to leave. Now.

*****

Laura woke with a start. She actually jerked awake, knoc
king the blanket to the floor. A knock at her office door snapped her back to reality. She sat up and flicked the light switch on the wall. “Come in,” she croaked.

A bleary eyed technician stuck his head into her office. “Ma’am, you might want to check the newsfeeds this morning. We just picked it up a little while ago, but I can’t find Colonel Mitchell.”

Laura glanced at the clock on the wall. Nearly dawn. He was either asleep, or, with his condition, trying to burn off the extra energy his body was creating. “I’ll find him,” she said, sounding like she had just gargled with gravel. “What channel?”

The tech frowned. “Pick one, ma’am. They’re all running it.”

Laura had an ‘oh-shit’ moment, thinking the worst, fearing the storm had finally broken and this one was big enough that the secret they had fought to keep hidden all these years was finally out. She scanned her desk for the TV remote, then finally stood and pressed the power button. It was on FOX news, and the first thing she saw was a screen shot of Senator Franklin on all fours with the redheaded transsexual behind him. Parts of the image were blacked out, but she knew exactly what was going on because she had been there. She felt ill as her eyes scanned to the bottom of the screen and the ‘Breaking News’ banner.  She turned up the volume and listened while the reporter explained that nobody knew exactly ‘why Senator Franklin would e-mail the video to every major news outlet, internet blogger and tabloid, but according to sources, the man in the images shown here was confirmed to be Illinois Senator Leslie Franklin with an unknown transsexual prostitute’…Laura turned off the television.

She practically fell back on the couch.
He did it. He actually did it.
Laura searched her side for her two-way radio. “Colonel, come in.”

“Go for Mitchell,” he responded.

“Franklin sent the package,” was all she said. She waited for him to respond. It took much longer than she expected.

Finally, Matt came back across the radio, “I’m topside, Laura. Meet me in the hangar.” She couldn’t tell by his voice any emotion.  She wasn’t sure what to expect when she reached him topside.

Finally, she keyed the radio, “Roger that, sir. See you in twenty.” She had just woken up and knew she must look a mess. She at least wanted to drag a brush through her hair and pour some coffee to take with her.

She stood and went to the small sink in the corner of her o
ffice and wet a paper towel. She wiped her face and flipped open the cabinet door above it. She looked like death, but had looked worse. Grabbing a brush, she pulled it through her hair a few times and pulled it into a tight pony tail. When in doubt, a pony tail hides a mess, and if you can get it tight enough, it can pull the wrinkles from lack of sleep out of your face. Even tighter, and the pain will keep you alert. At least, that’s what she told herself.