Herculean (Cerberus Group #1)

“You didn’t call to tell me ‘dead-end.’”

“No,” Dourado admitted. “But the money trail doesn’t lead anywhere. I haven’t seen such a complicated branch network since I hacked the Society.”

“That’s why you’re the perfect person for this job,” Pierce said. “If anyone can crack this nut, it’s you.”

Gallo thought his tone, while encouraging, sounded dangerously close to patronization.

Dourado didn’t seem to take it that way. “I decided to ignore the money and look at the shell organizations. Each of these organizations has a website, and on each website, there is a cleverly concealed application that redirects to this.”

Dourado’s violet-haired visage vanished, replaced by a live feed of a computer screen displaying a black logo—a stylized image of what appeared to be three dog heads, joined together and staring watchfully in all directions—on a blank white background.





Fiona, who had roused herself and was now staring over Pierce’s shoulder, was the first to identify the image. “Cerberus. The three-headed dog that guards the gates of the Underworld. Capturing Cerberus was Hercules’s final Labor.”

Underneath the logo was a line of text and a Java script box. The prompt read simply: ‘What do you want?’

Pierce and Gallo exchanged a glance, but before either of them could speak, letters began to appear in the box.

WORLD PEACE.

Pierce opened his mouth to say something, probably to advise caution, but the message was sent before he could utter a word. The screen abruptly changed to display a generic 404-error. Dourado clicked on the ‘Back’ button, but the ‘page not found’ message remained.

“That is what happens every time, no matter what I put in,” Dourado explained. “You get just one try, and then you are shut out permanently. Don’t worry. I am using randomly generated IP addresses. They won’t be able to trace this activity to me.”

“Is it asking for a password?” Pierce inquired.

“I believe the question is literal,” Dourado said. “What matters is who asks it. This may be a blind contact page for a concierge service.” She emphasized the word so that the listeners would understand that irony was intended. “Ask for whatever you want, and if you can afford the price tag, the doggie will go fetch it for you.”

“And if you can’t,” Gallo murmured, “the doggie will chase you away.”

“Exactly,” Dourado said.

“So how does Kenner connect to this?” Pierce asked. “Is he working for…Cerberus, whatever it is? Did they hire him to find the secret of how to make chimeras?”

When no one answered, he shook his head. “Good work, Cintia. Keep digging into Cerberus. Try to figure out what their agenda is.” He paused, the set of his jaw showing that he had just had a very unpleasant thought. “If Kenner is looking to exploit the DNA of ancient creatures, we might need some technical advice. We’re out of our depth here. Get me a list of candidates with a background in biology and genetics.”

Gallo raised an eyebrow. She knew that the Society’s charter allowed for the recruitment of new members from time to time, but it was rare to draft someone out of the blue. Most new members were brought aboard only after discovering the truth about the Society for themselves. Tapping someone from out of the blue could have unpredictable results.

“Done,” Dourado replied, almost before Pierce finished speaking. The screen refreshed to show a list of names along with a condensed curriculum vitae for each. Gallo didn’t recognize any of the names, but Pierce did.

“Number three,” he said. “Dr. Carter.”

“It may be difficult to reach her,” Dourado said. “She’s in Liberia, working with the World Health Organization to develop an Ebola vaccine.”

“Make the travel arrangements,” Pierce said. “I’ll extend the invitation personally. We have a mutual friend.”

Gallo noted a change in his demeanor, as if the prospect of being on the move again had energized him. She could sympathize. Nothing sapped one’s joie de vivre quite as fast as being stuck in a lightless hole in the ground. Something told her that was exactly what Pierce had in mind for her. “Am I to assume that you expect Fiona and me to remain here?”

Pierce blinked at her, as if sensing but not comprehending her irritation. “It’s the safest place.”

“Safe from what?”

“Kenner might…” He trailed off, unwilling to put whatever he was thinking into words.

“George, you can’t be serious. I’ve got to be the last thing on his mind right now.”

Pierce sagged. “Fine. But if you insist on leaving, be careful.”

“Physician, heal thyself,” Gallo replied. “You’re the one who’s going off to the hot zones of Western Africa.”





13



Cerberus Headquarters, Location Unknown

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