Page 82 of Darkness Bound (Night Prowler 5)
“Cross purposes” was putting it lightly. The goals of the Expurgari and the goals of Section Thirty were in total discord.
“They must all be exterminated!” hissed Jahad. “They will escape from any facility you build—you can’t contain mist!”
Ah, but you could. There were ways.
“We only need a few specimens, Jahad. A dozen at most, you can slaughter the rest—”
“Even one is too many!” Jahad shouted. “They must be purged in the fire of righteousness! They are an abomination unto the Lord!”
Thirteen rolled his eyes.
“I need to call you back, freund,” he said as a blonde in a tailored black suit holding a cell phone mouthed the Chairman at him through the conference room’s glass door. Thirteen hung up on Jahad, rose from the table, and took the cell phone. He nodded at the woman—one of two hundred operatives in the facility—and held the phone to his ear.
“Everything is ready,” said a man on the other end of the line.
The voice was cultured yet utterly lacked any other discernible quality of individuality: it was neither high nor deep, was devoid of accent or distinctive speech patterns, and always stripped of emotion. To Thirteen, the voice sounded nothing so much as clean, or perhaps empty, and he’d often wondered if it was computer generated, or enhanced by some electronic device.
He’d never before heard a human voice sound quite as soulless.
Not that it bothered him. He quite liked the idea of working for a man with no soul. There were few be
tter ways to advance in this world than to lack any sense of moral compunction, and the Chairman—so called because no one in all his hundreds of multinational corporations knew his real name—had advanced very far indeed.
“I’m having a little trouble convincing our friends at the Vatican of our agenda,” admitted Thirteen.
The Chairman chuckled, and even that sounded empty. “We’ll give them more money. Money relieves even the most pious man of his scruples. God Himself could be convinced to look the other way if He were given a big enough bribe.”
“We’ll have to go over Jahad’s head. He’s not the sort who cares about money.”
“Then we’ll send the money directly to the pope himself. I’ve dealt with him before, when he was cardinal. He’s a reasonable man.” The Chairman paused. “To Jahad we’ll send a goat. Or three.”
Yes, that would be more apropos. The last time he and Jahad had teamed up to hunt the Ikati, Thirteen had unfortunately acquired firsthand experience with Jahad’s unnatural . . . fondness for the cloven-hoofed animals.
“And if that doesn’t work, we’ll cut the Expurgari off altogether,” the Chairman added. “We don’t need them for this.”
“True. But we also don’t need them as an enemy. They hold the worst grudges, and their power is still considerable. And if we can use their minions for the bloody work, so much the better. I don’t like the idea of putting too many of our people in harms’ way.” Thirteen had seen what terrible things fangs and claws could do to fragile human flesh. His own mother had been mauled to death by a tiger in a circus when he was a boy. The experience scarred him, left him with a pathological hatred for cats, and a thirst for vengeance, all of which served the Chairman’s purposes to a T.
There was a pause, then the Chairman said, “If this operation goes successfully, Thirteen, you’ll be promoted to Two.”
Everyone in the organization had a number, a straightforward indication of their status within the association. The Chairman himself was One. Thirteen sank slowly into the nearest chair, overcome. “Sir,” he whispered.
“I’m counting on you. This is the culmination of my life’s work. If we can get even one of these creatures into captivity and conduct the necessary experiments, we can change the course of history. Tell your friends at the Vatican whatever they want to hear, and I’ll take care of their compensation.” There was a slight pause. “But I want to make myself clear on one point, Thirteen.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Failure is not an option.”
Though his hollow voice contained not a single inflection of threat or menace, those few words were enough to convey that Thirteen’s employ with the Chairman wouldn’t be the only thing terminated if anything went awry.
Because he was the kind of man who accepted unpleasant realities and had never held the expectation that his life would end quietly, Thirteen simply answered, “I understand you perfectly, sir.”
He knew better than to promise success, however. No matter how well prepared the soldiers were, no matter how the odds might seem stacked in their favor, the outcome of any battle was unforeseeable. To think otherwise was only self-delusion, a mental weakness of which, fortunately, Thirteen was free.
“The op goes live at zero five hundred hours October fifteenth. I need you at the Manaus Air Force Base at eighteen hundred the evening prior for briefing.”
“Brazil’s military is cooperating?” Thirteen was surprised. He’d thought they were going in with the Circuit, the Chairman’s private military company. That was one of the reasons he’d needed to ensure the cooperation of the UN; the hiring of mercenaries was prohibited by the United Nations Mercenary Convention.
The Chairman said, “I’ll give you one guess as to why.”
