Desert Assassin (17 page)

“Morales.”

“Let me get Morgan.”

A few minutes later, the HC was on the way to Westerlind’s barn. Williams called the General. “Art has captured Morales, that is a Morales Assassin. We’ll be flying to the camp to hand him over to you.”

After he let what he just heard sink in, the General said, “Are you sure its Morales?” He was speaking loud enough to be heard by all in the Pathfinder.

“Art says it is. That’s good enough for me.”

“How the hell did he do it?”

“Don’t know. We haven’t had time to ask him.”

“This is unbelievable.”

“Do you have someone there who speaks Spanish?”

Before the General could respond, Cyclo said, “No need. I do.”

“I should have known,” said Williams.

“He’s fluent,” added Morgan.

“One more thing,” said the General. “Tell Arthur I’ll treat him to a meal at Killer Two’s the next time we are there.”

“You’ll pay for all of us, or I’ll turn Morales loose,” chuckled Fowler.

“Arthur, what am I going to do with you?”

When they arrived at Westerlind’s, Cyclo said, “I have a suggestion.”

“Shoot,” said Williams.

“Cut his legs loose and take off the blindfold. Let him walk into the chopper. Try not to touch him. We don’t know what he’s got under the hood.”

“The virus? asked Williams.

“That and maybe a lot more. Once we get him in the chopper, then we can blindfold him and tie up the legs – carefully.”

That was the way it was done.

Once they were airborne, Morgan looked back from his pilot’s seat at Fowler. “Okay, Art, let’s hear it.”

“Well, I figured it wouldn’t hurt if I got an early start to the search.”

“Load of crap,” laughed Morgan, “you went looking for Sally.”

“Who’s Sally?” asked Cyclo.

“A waitress at the bar in town,” replied Morgan.

“When I got to the bar, the only customers were three white guys sitting at a table in the far left corner. The bartender told me Sally had the night off. I was about to turn around and leave when I decided to have a quick Doctor Pepper.”

This time it was Williams who said, “Load of crap.”

“About halfway through the Doctor Pepper, in walked a Latino wearing old dungarees and a frayed flannel shirt. As soon as I looked at his face, I was sure it was Morales, or what used to be Morales. I was sitting at the middle of the bar. He sat down about ten feet to my right. Speaking Spanish, he placed an order for a beer with the bartender. As soon as he spoke, I knew it was another Assassin. Like Bill’s Assassin, he paused after every word. I decided to use page one of the
Major Williams’ Alien Playbook
and ask the bartender for his best scotch. The trouble was I had never ordered whiskey of any kind from a bar. I knew that Bill always had single malt scotch and, back at his place, he always had water on the side. So, trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about, I asked the bartender for his best single malt scotch with water on the side.”

Morgan smiled and said, “Did he ask you if you were going to use it to wash down the Doctor Pepper?”

“No, but he told me it was expensive. I said that was no problem as one of the guys I was in there with the last time was paying for all the scotch I drink. Told him I’d need a receipt before I left.”

Williams and Cyclo couldn’t help but laugh.

“He put a small glass with the scotch in it on the bar and another glass with water. I then imitated the General. I slowly swirled the scotch around for about a minute, brought the glass up to my nose, stuck my nose in the glass and took an exaggerated whiff. I’m always amazed that the scotch doesn’t get pulled into the General’s nose when he does that.”

Now it was Morgan doing the laughing. “I’ve thought the same thing.”

Fowler flashed a broad grin and continued. “I waited about a minute, took a sip and tried to look as if I were about to have an orgasm. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Morales looking at me. Another minute went by and I took a second sip. By now he couldn’t take his eyes off the glass. At this point, I wasn’t sure if it was my acting or the smell of the scotch that he was fixated on.”

“Your acting?” asked Williams.

“After about my fifth sip, Morales asked the bartender something. I had no idea what he asked until the bartender answered. I heard him give a money amount in Spanish. It sounded like ‘Onsay Dolores.’ I had no idea how much that was, but Morales pulled some bills out of his pocket and it was obvious that it would have left him with not much left over.”

“That’s eleven dollars,” explained Cyclo.

“I then opened page two of the
Major Williams’ Alien Playbook
and told the bartender to give him a glass of the scotch.”

Tears began to form in Morgan’s eyes. If Williams had any lingering doubts about Morgan being a decent guy, they disappeared at that moment. He wondered how much of Morgan’s pre-Assassin personality was colored by the loss of his wife.

“The bartender looked at me as if I’m a gay trying to hit on Morales.”

At that point, Williams, Morgan and Cyclo started to laugh and took a good minute before they stopped.

“Morales briefly tilted the glass at me as the bartender handed it to him. He then did a near perfect imitation of the General. He swirled and swirled the scotch, stuck his nose so far into the glass that it touched the scotch and then he took a big whiff. At that point, I almost pissed my pants.”

Fowler had to stop again until the group stopped laughing.

“No joke, he waited about a minute and then took a sip. His eyes opened wide. He was in love.”

“With you or the scotch?” asked Morgan who once again was laughing out of control.

“With the scotch,” replied Fowler trying his best to sound indignant.

“Morales kept taking sips, but each one came a little bit faster than the one before it. Ten minutes later, the glass was empty. I bought him a second one. Five minutes later, it was empty. Just as he emptied it, I got up as if I was about to leave. Morales pointed to the bottle and I could tell he was asking the bartender how much for the bottle. I couldn’t understand a word the bartender said, but I figured he had to be telling him that he couldn’t sell anything that would leave the bar. Morales looked like a bear staring at a jar of honey it can’t quite reach. ‘Bingo,’ I said to myself. I told the bartender to tell Morales that I had a bottle in my car that I would sell to him for ten dollars. There was no question then that the bartender thought I was totally gay.”

“The bartender relayed to Morales what I said. Morales slapped three dollars on the counter for the beer he bought and I tossed fifty on the bar and asked for a receipt.”

At that point, Fowler stopped, fished through his pockets, pulled out a wrinkled slip of paper and passed it to Morgan. “Here’s the receipt for the scotch, Morgan.”

Williams looked at Morgan and said, “I think I had better take the controls.”

Once again laughing, Morgan said, “The two of you are out of your minds.”

When all of them settled down, Fowler finished his tale. “Morales followed me out of the bar. I had parked the Pathfinder in back. There were only two other vehicles there. I figured they belonged to the bartender and the guys sitting at the booth. No one was in sight. Just as we approached the Pathfinder, I kicked him the right knee and as he began to go down, I caught him in the back of the neck. He was out cold. I put on gloves and five minutes or so later, he was wrapped up and ready to go.”

The General, Rappaport, Mitchell and McBride greeted the HC as they landed. A half dozen armed troops quickly surrounded the helicopter.

Williams said, “I think you ought to hear what Cyclo has to say.”

The General nodded.

“Can we talk away from the chopper?” asked Cyclo.

The General immediately began to walk away from it. Everyone except the troops followed. Out of earshot of the troops, Cyclo continued, “As I told the guys earlier, we don’t know what Morales may have under the hood. Fowler took a heck of a chance. If it were my call, I would have him moved to a secure facility with everyone handling him wearing protective gear. Remember, this is Assassin, not Morales.”

“By under the hood, you mean the virus.”

“That’s only part of it. If it is a virus, it’s far more advanced and potent than anything we’ve ever encountered on Earth and it may not even be a virus. In fact, it might even be something that has been created artificially.”

“By who?”

“During the last two decades, hundreds of exoplanets have been discovered, this includes the possibility that planets are orbiting the closest star system to Earth, Alpha Centauri, and also around Tau Ceti, a star which is only 11.9 light years away. It is quite likely that most of the billions upon billions of stars in our Milky Way galaxy have planets orbiting them. Beyond that, there are billions upon billions of galaxies. If even a minute fraction of these planets have environments suitable for the creation of life, I can’t imagine that the universe is not teeming with it. Look at the incredible advances we are making in virtually every area of science, including genetics. Imagine what might be created by beings hundreds, thousands or millions of years more advanced than we are.”

Cyclo paused as if to see if there were any questions or comments. None were forthcoming.

“One of the most frightening aspects of the Assassins is the incredible rapidity with which they can replicate themselves or whatever organisms they attack. I’m certain Morales Assassin One has that capacity. Remember, also, that the original Assassin incorporated into it whatever it thought was of value to its survival. We have to hope that Morales has not made a replicate of itself. Who knows what else it may be capable of doing?”

The General had heard enough. He, Williams and Morgan conferred briefly. Several minutes later, Rappaport and McBride were assigned to deliver a sedated Morales to Texas. Accompanying them would be six troops, three from the General and three from Morgan. Their primary responsibility was to be the guarding of Morales on a twenty-four hour basis. In addition, Morgan was to provide a former F.B.I. agent, Marco Baldarelli, to assist Stanton’s team. Baldarelli, the product of an Italian father and Hispanic mother, spoke fluent Spanish and was an experienced interrogator. Eight hours later, Morales was safely quarantined in Texas.

While Rappaport and McBride were preparing to bring Morales to Texas, the General hosted a conference in his tent. In addition to the General, present were Williams, Morgan, Mitchell, Fowler and Cyclo. The General passed out six glasses and passed a bottle of scotch around. The HC contingent looked at one another trying their best not to start laughing.

“Arthur, how did you get that sucker?” As the General asked the question, he poured scotch into his glass and began to swirl. After a full minute, he slowly poked his nose into the glass and took his customary exaggerated whiff.

“What the hell?” asked the General as all four of the HC crew burst into laughter and couldn’t stop. Minutes seemed to pass before Williams said, “He’s almost as good at it as Morales.” That began a second round of laughter.

Both the General and Mitchell had no idea what was happening and could do nothing more than watch in disbelief. When the laughter finally subsided, Fowler turned to Williams and said, “Bill, I think you better tell him.”

Williams gathered his thoughts and recounted what Fowler had described up to the point where Fowler bought the glass of scotch for Morales. To that point, the only thing said by the General was, “Unbelievable!” – three times.

“Art then told us that the bartender looked at him as if he was a gay trying to hit on Morales.”

The General laughed.

“The bartender handed the glass of scotch to Morales.” Williams paused and looked point blank at the General. “Art then tells us that Morales did a perfect imitation of you. He swirled the scotch over and over, then stuck his nose so far into the glass that it touched the scotch. Next came a gigantic whiff. Art admitted to almost pissing in his pants and told us all he could think of was that it’s amazing you don’t pull the scotch up through your nose.”

“Son-of-a-bitch!”

“Then Morgan said he wondered the same thing about you.”

Williams had to wait until everyone stopped laughing. Everyone, that is, except for the General who tried to disguise his emotions.

“Morales waited another minute before taking his first sip. Art said Morales’ eyes opened wide and he was in love. At that point, Morgan interrupted Art and asked, ‘With you or the scotch?’”

That brought the General to laughter.

Williams asked Fowler to finish the story. When he was done, the General said, “I never thought I would hear something that rivals how Bill killed Assassin in being unbelievable. This one is close to it. Arthur, congratulations, you did one helluva job.”

“Thank you, General. Now, how about a raise?”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY

F
OLLOWING THE DELIVERY BY
R
APPAPORT AND
M
C
B
RIDE,
the Texas team now had the ended Assassin, Eagle Assassin One (living), Eagle Assassin Two (dead), and the newly arrived Morales Assassin One (living) in its possession. The team consisted of the original five members: Stanton, Ling, Henderson, McDonald and Patel, plus Saunders and the newly added Baldarelli.

Baldarelli’s duties were three-fold: interpreter, interrogator and protector of the members of team whenever any of them were with Morales Assassin One. Now in his late thirties, he was the same weight and height, two hundred ten pounds and six-two, as he was in college where he was a starting linebacker in his sophomore, junior and senior years. He went to work for the F.B.I. after graduating and was recruited by Morgan twelve years later.

An exhausted Rappaport called a 9:00AM meeting with all team members, including Baldarelli, who had arrived two hours earlier. McBride was also present. Speaking to the group, he introduced their newest member. “This is Marco Baldarelli. He is a former F.B.I. agent who has been assigned to the team by Morgan. He is fluent in Spanish and is a trained interrogator. Under no circumstances is anyone to be with Morales without Agent Baldarelli being present. In addition, we have brought in six additional men. One of them will be directly outside of the room in which Morales is being held at all times. I’m sure that I do not have to remind any of you that this is not Hector Morales, rather it is another manifestation of Assassin. Any questions before we continue?”

“Yes,” said Henderson. “How was he captured?”

“Andrew and I had to leave with Morales, officially Morales Assassin One, before the details were discussed. The only thing we know is that is was Fowler who did it.”

“Thank goodness,” thought Ling.

“The top priority,” continued Rappaport, “is to find out if there are any more of him. To that end, Agent Baldarelli will take the lead.”

What Rappaport did not share with the team was that Baldarelli had spoken via phone with Williams, who had detailed the role scotch had played in the killing of Assassin and the capture of Morales. Both the General and Morgan instructed Baldarelli to begin immediate interrogation of Morales and to do so using the best available scotch.

The two drawings suggested by Henderson were completed. It was decided by Stanton that she be the one to show them to Eagle Assassin One. Baldarelli, along with two soldiers with weapons drawn, slowly walked into the room. All three stopped several feet from the door. The alien eagle was twenty feet away and did not move. Henderson then walked in. Standing between the soldiers, she held up the first of two three-foot by two-foot drawings. It was the one with a likeness of Eagle Assassin One with the damaged wing.

Remaining motionless, the eagle stared at it for several minutes. It finally slowly lifted its left wing as if to ask, “And?” Henderson then held up the second drawing showing another likeness of Eagle Assassin One, this one with a repaired wing. Again several minutes passed until it again slowly lifted its left wing.

Stanton, who had been watching through the one-way mirror, cautiously entered the room pushing in a large wheeled computer stand. On it was a laptop to which was attached a 30-inch monitor. Flanked by the soldiers, he slowly wheeled it to within ten feet of the eagle. He then walked slowly back to the door.

Henderson then hit the play button on a remote. On flashed a video showing a team of veterinarians surgically repairing an eagle’s damaged wing. It played for nearly ten minutes. All the while, Eagle Assassin One watched with what seemed to be total attention.

Upon the conclusion of the video, Henderson pointed to the monitor and then to the eagle’s damaged wing. Minutes passed until Eagle Assassin One raised its good wing. With that, two veterinarians, totally encased in biohazard suits entered the room and proceeded to sedate the patient. A gurney was used to roll it to a surgical room. Included on the operating team were the two veterinarians, two assistants, an anesthesiologist and Stanton. Stanton’s task was to extract blood and tissue samples. All members of operating team wore biohazard suits.

Stanton spent the next few hours examining the samples and then placed a call to the General. “General Barrington, I just finished examining blood and tissue samples from the Eagle Assassin. As expected, the virus appears to have successfully invaded every cell of the eagle. As you know, the virus which controls the various Assassins, if as Cyclo pointed out it is a virus, is the most insidious and potent mankind has ever encountered. If it should spread out of control into the animal and/or human population, we are looking at a possible doomsday scenario.”

There was no reply. As a result, Stanton continued, “More bad news, I just met briefly with Marco Baldarelli. He has finished his interrogation of Morales. Morales replicated once before his capture. There is a possibility that his double has already replicated or will do so in the near future.”

“Unfortunately, that is what I expected. Do you need additional live humanoid assassins?”

“No, but a dead one would be a bonus.”

“A dead one?”

“For a postmortem.”

“You are not suggesting we kill Morales?”

“No, I understand that Morales may be able to provide us with invaluable information. Also, we would like to see if Morales One will replicate while in captivity. While I doubt it will do so, if it did what we may learn might be crucial.

However, there is just so much we can possibly garner from his blood and tissue samples.

“We’ll do what we can.”

“Alice is here with me. She has additional information about the Eagle Assassin threat. Would you care to speak with her?”

“By all means.”

“Good afternoon, General. How are you?”

“Not quite as well as I was before this phone call.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Unfortunately, what I have to say may further dampen your spirits.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Among the prey of golden eagles are smaller animals such as ground squirrels, marmots and rabbits as well as larger ones such as foxes. With the increased size and intelligence of the Eagle Assassins, they are apt to go after even larger prey. This is made all the plausible by the fact that they are now going after prey working in packs. Witness the attack on Bill. Suppose rather than kill and devour some of these, they choose to infect them? This includes human beings.”

“God almighty!”

“There is no way for us to begin to fathom the consequences.”

“Thank you, Alice.”

As soon as Stanton came back on the line, the General said, “my first priority with respect to any alien humanoids is now to destroy them completely. Morales is to be kept alive. Any postmortem will have to wait.”

“We are done with the original Assassin. It needs to be disposed of unless the government wants to add it to its Wright-Patterson or Area 51 collection.”

“Dr. Stanton, if there are any such aliens, I have no knowledge of them. I will see that it is removed as soon as possible.”

“We should be through with the postmortem of the dead eagle within three days. It can then be removed. Although it is a long-shot, we may be able to eventually learn something of value from it.”

Back at the motel in Reserve, the HC was meeting to finalize the details of the search.

“In addition to Morgan’s, we will have a second drone monitoring our area courtesy of the General. It will focus exclusively on Silver City. Also, while our mission is to search the area for humanoid assassins, we need to try to figure out how many Assassins of all types are in circulation,” said Williams.

Cyclo began, “I’ve been working up a genealogy of sorts beginning with Assassin One.”

“Let’s hear it,” said Williams.

“The only scenario that makes sense, at least the way I see it, is that Assassin split twice after it made its escape. The replicates would be Assassin Two and Assassin Three.”

“That must have happened in a very short period of time,” said Williams. “Shorter than I have thought possible.”

“I know and that makes our search that much more critical. We have assumed that you killed the original Assassin and that is probably the case. However, I don’t think we can be absolutely sure of that.”

“What?” asked Fowler.

“Both spin-offs would have had exactly the same memory as Assassin up to the moment of replication and might very well have thought they were Assassin. All three would have remembered their original encounters with Bill as being exclusively their own.”

“So, in theory,” said Williams, “any three of them may have been the one which took down the mountain lion and Fred.”

“Yes, and there is probably no way we will ever know. However, because of time frames involved, the most likely would be the original with Assassin Two being a reasonable possibility. Assassin Three is only a very remote possibility. No matter which of the three you killed, that is a dead end with respect any danger posed to us.”

Fowler couldn’t resist, “Unless it comes back as a zombie.”

Flashing a rare smile, Cyclo quickly fired back, “Only if one of its brethren hires a bokor.”

“A broker?”

Cyclo hesitated, another rarity for him, as he wasn’t sure if Fowler didn’t know what a bokor was or if he did know and was baiting. He decided to play it safe. “Not a broker, a bokor.”

Deadpanned, Fowler said, “Oh, bokor. I was in Haiti several years ago. I killed one to see if it could bring itself back as a zombie. Never did.”

Cyclo was a total loss for words as Williams and Morgan laughed. Once the cabal had settled down, trying to sound like the General, Morgan said, “Arthur, what am I going to do with you?”

Despite the obvious pressure Morgan was under because of the escape of Assassin, it was clear to Williams that he was enjoying being part of the group, perhaps truly enjoying life for the first time in years.

Cyclo continued. “There are other scenarios for what happened next, but this one is as good as any. Assassin Two went on to infect Morales, who became Morales Assassin One, who we know replicated and that replicate should be in circulation. The question is has it replicated? That would mean there are at least two Morales Assassins.

“At least?” asked Morgan.

“Either one or both could have replicated. If so, there are three or four of them.”

“Dammit.”

“There is also the possibility that Assassin Two replicated before or after infecting Morales. If so, who knows what is out there from this strand?”

“And that still leaves Assassin Three,” said Williams.

“Most likely Assassin Three replicated once to create Assassin Four and then went on to pick apart the destroyed bear before it was demolished. That should be another dead end. Assassin Four started the Eagle Assassin line, most likely by infection. We know there are at least two of them. There are probably more by now. Let’s hope they haven’t attacked any humans or infected them.”

“So Assassin Four may still be out there and might have split who knows how many times? And I let the original get away.”

“Morgan,” said Williams, “it does no good to agonize over it. Remember, I could have easily destroyed it in the early days. Let’s concentrate on going forward and wiping them out.”

“Thanks.”

“First thing in the morning we start from square one. Morgan, do you and Cyclo want to take Reserve or Glenwood?”

“Makes no difference, but since Art has had success in Reserve, why don’t you two cover it. We’ll take Glenwood.”

“Fair enough. You can switch to Gila in the afternoon. Art and and I will take Mule Creek. If we come up empty, we can come back to Reserve and Glenwood.”

The first day back on the humanoid trail yielded nothing – no one remotely resembling Morales. No reports of criminal or unusual activities which could be linked to a humanoid assassin and no images of worth from the drones.

Shortly after five the following morning, Williams’ cell phone rang.

“Bill, it’s Morgan. We may have a break. I’ve got a night vision feed showing what looks like a break-in of a farmhouse three miles north of Glenwood.”

“Give us ten minutes.”

Eight minutes later, the group was standing alongside their two vehicles.

“What are we looking at?” asked Williams.

“At 4:34 this morning, the drone picked up an image of a human shape walking toward the farmhouse. It stopped for about five minutes and appeared to be watching the north side of the house. Then it slowly circled to the back of the house, stopping fifty feet or so behind it – this time for about ten minutes. Finally, it went into a run heading straight at the back of the house. It disappeared under what looks like a porch roof and hasn’t been seen since. I’m betting it rammed a rear door.”

“Could you tell if is occupied?”

“There’s a car there, Bill, so most likely it is.” He paused. “Look at this, it just came out of the house carrying two rifles and is heading for the car.”

There was now a sufficient amount of daylight to allow them to watch as the intruder unlocked the car, opened the trunk of a six or seven year old Toyota sedan, placed the rifles inside and headed back to the house.