Location: Callao, Peru, South America

––––––––

His watch showed three in the morning. Shit, it was early. In the gloom of the unlit boat shed, Kelly barely made out Freya’s sleeping form next to him in the Hilux. She was curled in a ball, her head resting on his lap. He smiled and admired how peaceful she appeared. He moved a hand to stroke her hair but immediately retracted it as the gravity of his action dawned on him. What the hell was he thinking? He couldn’t go down that road again. He couldn’t get attached. It was a bad idea. Anyway, he had a wife. She was gone in body but not in spirit. He shook off the uncomfortable train of thought and turned his attention to the much larger lump, squashed in the front passenger seat. James Tremaine, Freya’s disapproving sidekick. Kelly smirked, then rapped with his knuckles on the man’s bald head. “Yo, JT, time to get up.”

The Shadow Man lurched into life, instinctively pulling his Kimber ICQB from its holster. He swung it around and pointed it at Kelly’s forehead. “Gimme a reason.”

“Whoa, someone’s grumpy in the morning. Relax, JT.” Kelly raised his hands, motioning the agent to calm down.

Freya yawned and stretched. Then sat up. Crap, she was on his lap. Best to ignore it. Maybe he hadn’t noticed. “C’mon boys, enough.” She shuffled out of the car and into the cold, damp air. The chilling water vapor clung to her bare arms, making her shiver.

“Cold, right?” Kelly had also exited and was busily untying the ropes on the tarp that concealed K’in. She nodded and rubbed her hands together in an attempt to generate heat from the friction.

Kelly thought about offering her his jacket, but again, the words never passed his lips. Besides, she had a jacket in the truck—she just had to put it on. He peered through the gap in the tarp. The creature was wide awake and ecstatic to see Kelly. He puffed out his crimson gills and leapt past Kelly down from the flatbed, to the ground. He stretched his back and limbs like a newly woken dog.

“Okay, Moby, it’s time for you to take a little trip.”

K’in scurried up to Kelly, reared onto his hind legs, and placed his front legs onto Kelly’s shoulders. Their eyes locked. A massive wave of warmth ran from Kelly’s stomach up through his chest and into his head. K’in had connected. The creature smacked its tiny lips together, all the while staring into Kelly’s face. K’in’s eyes glowed.

“What the hell is it doing?” Tremaine stood next to Freya, his arms folded across his chest.

“Saying hi,” she replied and proceeded to walk over to Kelly. She rested a hand on K’in’s head, absorbing the warmth through him. The creature swiveled his head to see her and rubbed the end of his face on hers. Freya laughed, pulling away, her eyes screwed up. K’in dropped to the ground and waddled around on all fours until he reached Tremaine. The animal cocked his head to one side, deciding if he liked the Shadow Man. Evidently, he didn’t. He scampered to Kelly’s side and plonked down by his feet. Freya and Kelly choked back a laugh.

“Hey, we still like you, JT.”

Freya erupted into a full-blown snort.

“Sure.” Tremaine grunted in annoyance. “Let’s just get on with this.”

“Yes, yes.” Freya regained her composure. “How will we do it?”

“Well ...” Kelly started.

“He’s calling the shots now?”

Freya jumped to Kelly’s defense. “No, but he knows where to get the plane, and he knows who we are going to see in Egypt. Ergo, he at least has a say. Right?”

“It’s okay, toots, I can justify myself.”

Freya huffed.

“JT, you take Moby to your mini sub. Wrap him in the tarp from the truck. You’ll be faster if you carry him on your back, and much less conspicuous. We’ll go get the plane. Once we’re in Egypt, we’ll send you another message with an update.”

The Shadow Man ignored Kelly and cast his gaze to Freya. He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

She shrugged. “Seems fairly sensible to me.”

“Fine.” Tremaine marched over to the truck and grabbed the tarp with both hands. With a swift and mighty heave, he ripped the material from the chassis. Glaring at Kelly, he stepped over K’in and attempted to drop the tarp onto the animal’s back. K’in bucked, throwing the heavy sheet to the floor, before scurrying behind Kelly’s legs for protection.

“Moby! Hey, calm down. It’ll be alright.” Kelly bent down, rested on his haunches, and patted the animal on the head.

“You gotta go with the walking fridge here, okay?” K’in shuffled his feet uneasily.

“He’s an ugly fucker, I know, but I’ll come back for you. Just try not to look at him.” Kelly threw a smarmy glance up at the now fuming Shadow Man and then turned his attention back to K’in. “I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

The animal responded and skulked around Kelly toward Tremaine.

The Shadow Man thought it looked as if it were sulking, but figured that was impossible. Animals didn’t have emotions. Tremaine wrapped the heavy sheet around K’in and slung the creature over one shoulder. He stared at Kelly before turning to face Freya. “Take care.”

“You too,” she replied. As always, their conversations were short and not sweet.

Tremaine made an about-face and strode toward the door of the boathouse. He carefully pushed on it until he could peer through a small gap. With the coast clear, he shoved the door open and slipped through the space into the night, K’in flapping about on his back.

“Right then, we best go plane shopping,” Kelly said.

They climbed into the Hilux. Kelly turned over the engine and pumped the gas with the handbrake engaged. Satisfied the battered, old vehicle was still roadworthy, he released the brake and drove up to the large doors. He crept the car forward, nudging the wooden doors open. As the hood of the car poked through, Kelly could peer out into the starless night. Tremaine was nowhere to be seen but neither was anyone else.

“Coast’s clear. Let’s go.” Kelly pressed the accelerator, letting the truck fully emerge from the boathouse. Then, with a screech of rubber on concrete, they sped off into the dark.  

––––––––

Location: Washington D.C., USA

––––––––

Alone in her room, the Secretary hovered over the dial button. She didn’t want to make the call, but she knew she must. It had been bugging her. Why was the Colonel leading the search party? It was not part of his command within the CDC. It made no sense. She’d gone back through the files on the creature and General Lloyd’s and the Chinese’s involvement. The facts were there. It was all true. But that was it—just bare facts, no details, and far too few files for such a project. The description of the cloning process alone comprised only a few steps. These things surely were more complicated, right? One day nothing and the next day a fully grown animal has developed? Something was missing.

On top of this, she still had the words of the Chinese Minister ringing in her ears: Delay the U.S. military from finding the creature. She didn’t know what to do. She wanted to be patriotic. But what did that mean? She knew the answer. She had to work in the best interests of her country. That’s why she’d gotten into politics—to make a difference. If nothing else, she had to find some answers.

Her finger pressed dial on the touch-sensitive panel. The ring tone hummed. Ten seconds passed and then twenty. She waited a bit longer, but there was no answer. Was he there? He was supposed to be available on demand.

The screen flicked on. The Colonel appeared on the screen, looking slightly irritated and completely distracted.

“Yes?” he demanded.

The Secretary found a rare moment of anger within her. “I’ll thank you to remember with whom you are speaking.”

“My apologies.” The Colonel flashed fake smile. ‘With what can I assist you?”

“Information, Colonel. Information. I have been going over the files you sent. It appears incomplete. Do you have anything on the initial cloning attempts? I can’t seem to find anything.”

The Colonel narrowed his eyes. “I sent you everything we could retrieve from Paradise Ranch, Madam Secretary. You know what I know.”

“I highly doubt that, Colonel.”

“I’m not sure what it is you want, Madam Secretary. Should your attention not be focused on the possibility of war with the Chinese and containing the virus?”

“Indeed, it is, Colonel. In fact, my discussions with the Chinese Minister went better than expected.” Keeping up this level of confidence was draining. She wasn’t sure if he could see through it. But she had to carry on. “And for that reason, I need you to oversee the development of the antivirus. You need to be at the CDC facility.”

“Madam Secretary, you must be aware I am in the middle of tracking General Lloyd and his team. I will be leaving soon on a transport.”

“Yes, about that. Why would you be doing that? Your position heading up the CDC does not include a search and rescue remit. Or am I wrong?”

“Madam Secretary, I know Benjamin Lloyd the best. My relationship with him will be an asset to the search team.” His voice broke.

“Colonel, your place is with the CDC to oversee the antivirus development. Find someone else to lead the team. Or would you like me to inform the President you have abandoned your post at a time like this?”

He pursed his lips. “Of course, Madam Secretary. I will find someone else.”

“Thank you, Colonel. Do you need assistance moving from where you are?”

“No, I’m in a secure facility in New Mexico outside the quarantine zone.”

“Good.” She flicked off the screen and sat motionless, adrenaline coursing through her. God, that was nerve-wracking.

She had managed to delay him, for a while. But she knew it wouldn’t stop him entirely. She needed to do something else. But what? The Secretary leaned forward again and tapped away at her console. The video link hummed. This time the reply was quick.

“Yes, Madam Secretary? Can I help you?” The doctor stood in his lab surrounded by monitors and paperwork. His sleeves were rolled up, and his brow was laden with sweat. Clearly he had not managed any kind of rest.

“Doctor Christian, are you any closer to creating an antidote?”

“It’s taking time, Lucy—sorry, Madam Secretary—but we are moving closer. At the moment, I have a problem with delivery. I have to keep the virus at very low temperatures. It means everything runs slower. It’s a problem I’m trying to sort out. I just need more time.”

She hesitated, but then said, “I know, I know. I’m sending the Colonel to oversee the last of the development.”

“Lucy, I have been your brother for thirty-three years. You know I don’t need him here. What’s going on?” He stared directly into the camera.

“Christian, I need you to do me a favor. I need you to trust me.”

“Okay.”

“When the Colonel gets there, I need you to stall him. He wants to go after the creature on his own. I don’t know why, but he isn’t telling the truth.”

“What has that got to do with the virus and saving all these people?”

“I said trust me. You asked me for time, and I’m asking you to return the favor. I just need to find out more. I need to go to the facility he was at. It doesn’t make sense. Why wasn’t he at the CDC headquarters anyway?”

Christian paused for a moment. “It’s a good question.”

“Exactly. I had a very interesting conversation with the Chinese Minister. I just need to investigate a little further. Get to the bottom of this.”

“And how should I stall him?”

“I don’t know, Christian. Just try, okay?” she pleaded. He couldn’t say no to his sister. Fact was, he’d never been very good at saying no to her even when they were kids.

Christian nodded. “Okay.”

“Thank you. I’ll be in touch soon.”

“Take care, sis.” He clicked off the conversation.

––––––––

Location: Callao, Peru, South America

––––––––

Kelly killed the engine of the Hilux and let it roll to a soft stop. He pulled the handbrake and sat quietly. The moon overhead afforded some light. The tiny, private airfield in front of him didn’t look so secure. It was unassuming and had no barbed wire. Sure, there was a wall and a gate, but that was it. In the center was the hangar and off to its right was the single airstrip. Understandably, the owner didn’t want to draw too much attention. Kelly still knew in his bones somewhere in there would be a battalion of large Peruvian gangsters with very few morals and a whole lot of artillery.

“I don’t like this,” Kelly whispered. “I’ve got serious nutflies.”

Freya sighed. “What?”

“You girls get butterflies in your stomach. Guys get them in our nuts. We feel them there. Nutflies.” Kelly didn’t look at her when speaking. It seemed perfectly logical to him.

Freya raised an eyebrow but couldn’t be bothered to question his vocabulary further.

“So what’s the plan?” Kelly asked.

“Well, we have the key, which means we can sneak in quietly. I don’t want any bullshit from you. No charging in. Quietly. You understand?”

“You got it.” Kelly saluted and climbed out of the car before mockingly closing the door as slowly as he could, clicking it shut.

Freya had already exited and was watching him, arms folded across her chest. “Funny.”

“What?” Kelly shrugged, grinned, and began his crouched skulk toward the airfield’s outer wall.

Freya followed behind, one of her firearms drawn and held in both hands. They rested, backs against the wall, hidden in shadow. The moon’s light was not nearly bright enough to see properly. To their left, a large gate blocked the entrance to the airfield.

“Do I get your other gun?”

“It’s a Beretta. And no,” she replied.

“Humph.”

“Does your magical key work for the gate as well or only for the hangar?”

There was a lasting silence as it dawned on Kelly he hadn’t asked that particular question. “Umm ...”

“Right. Of course you don’t know.” She held out one hand expectantly.

Kelly pulled a keyring with two keys on it from his pocket and placed it in her palm. “Here.”

Freya slid along the wall, never allowing her back to leave the brickwork. She reached the gate and, following a quick glance around, tried the lock. A dull thud confirmed that this was, in fact, not the gate key. Irritated, she pulled it from the keyhole and scurried back to Kelly. “Nope.”

“Damn. Well, can’t win ‘em all! Let’s get over this wall. And I’m afraid you are going to have to give me a boost.” He smirked.

“What?”

“Well, no offence, but I don’t think you have the upper body strength to lift me if you go first. I’m gonna have to pull you up.”

She wrinkled her nose. It was annoying when he was right. “Fine, just be quick about it.” Freya holstered her gun and braced against the wall, bending her knees and locking her fingers together to create a makeshift foothold. “Okay, go.”

He unceremoniously put a dirty boot in her hands and pushed up until he could reach the top edge of the brickwork. Using his free foot and the wall as a launch pad, he attempted to propel himself upward. It was to no avail. He shook his head and sheepishly placed the other boot on Freya’s shoulder. She groaned under his weight, clenching her eyelids together.

As she opened her eyes, something caught her attention. Two men were circling the truck that had been left behind on the other side of the road. She peered through the murk, trying to make out who they were. A brief scan to their left made everything clear. The police. Shit. They were radioing in the license plate. There must have been a BOLO out following the incident on the highway.

“Kelly, we have a problem.”

“I know. You are way too lady-like. I need a Russian shot putter.”

“Actually, our problem is on the other side of the road.”

No sooner had the words left her lips than the officers spotted the would-be burglars scaling the outer wall. One man shouted into his radio while the other bolted toward them, a flashlight in hand, its beam flailing left and right with his gait.

“Fuck!” Adrenaline coursing through him, Kelly gave an almighty thrust and heaved up onto the wall. On his knees, he reached down with one arm. “Grab it. C’mon.”

Freya complied, scrambling up the wall as Kelly hauled her up.

“Now jump!” he yelled.

Several bullets ricocheted off the wall as they leapt down to the tarmac on the other side. Without stopping, they charged toward the hangar, leaving the police officer cursing and unable to pursue.

A burst of yellow blinded them as a searchlight atop a small control tower erupted into life. Several men sprayed the ground with ammunition from the tower’s windows.

“Run!” Kelly grabbed Freya’s hand and dragged her in his wake.

She struggled to keep up, tripping every few feet and then stumbling back into his meteoric pace. They slammed into the metal doors of the hangar. Freya fumbled with the padlock, wincing and flinching as bullets squealed on the metalwork about her head. Kelly grabbed the spare Beretta from her holster and opened fire in the general direction from which the onslaught of lead was coming. His single shots were pathetic in comparison with the constant and unforgiving rain of destruction pouring down all around him.

“Got it.” She threw the padlock away and shoved the sliding door upward, momentum carrying it to a fully open position.

Freya turned to leap inside but yelped as a bullet scathed her right thigh, sending her sprawling into the ground.

Kelly grabbed her and yanked her into the cover of the hangar. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just a graze.” Freya pawed at the open slit in her flesh. “Damn, I bet that’s gonna scar.”

“Don’t worry. Just gives guys an excuse when they get caught staring at your legs.” He winked and then tugged at her arm once again. “C’mon, we gotta move.”

The G650 stood majestically in the middle of the hangar. Kelly froze where he stood, letting go of Freya’s arm to stare in awe. It was regal. More than one-hundred feet long with a wing span equally as wide, it had a long, elegant nose cone balanced by two sleek nacelles at the rear. The machine glowed pearlescent white in the dim light.

Freya had already opened the side door and was ascending the stairs. “C’mon!”

He shook off his boyish wonder and ran after her up the staircase, closing the door behind him. The interior was even more impressive than the exterior—cream leather everything, black glass tables, and wine coolers. Kelly thought these things only existed in cartoons or movies. He cursed the advantages of being a drug-peddling criminal and stepped through the door into the cockpit.

“This thing’s got a Gulfstream PlaneView II avionics system. It’ll practically fly itself.” Freya’s excitement grew as she pressed buttons and flicked switches, commanding the twin Rolls-Royce engines to roar into life. The aircraft edged forward. “Sit down. This is going to get bumpy.”

For the first time, Kelly did as he was told. He strapped in and sat wide-eyed at the array of colorful monitors. He didn’t know what it all meant, but he didn’t have to fly the damn thing.

“Here we go.” She slid a lever forward, and the jet accelerated.

As soon as the nose emerged from the hangar it was showered with bullets. The cockpit glass remained remarkably unscathed.

“Clever bastard must have had bulletproof glass installed.”

“I guess,” Freya shouted over the roar of the engine. She swung the plane around and pointed it down the runway. The echo of bullets on the hull shifted from the nose to the left flank.

“Punch it!”

Freya shoved the accelerator. The jet powered forward, throwing its crew back in their seats. The clatter of shrapnel waned as the plane pulled away and upward into the sky. Kelly saw the flashing blue lights of the police surrounding the abandoned truck and the infuriated skyward-firing gunmen in the tower.

“Where are we headed?”

“Egypt,” Kelly replied.

“Yes, I know that, smartass.” She sighed. “I meant, where in Egypt?”

“Cairo West Airport. It’s about thirty-four miles outside of Cairo. They take chartered planes and business flights. I have a buddy there. We’ll have no problem landing.”