“I represent a special, multi-agency task force within the United States government.”
Earl snorted.
“We would like this particular issue dealt with as quickly and quietly as possible. The provisional PUFF bounty for this particular one-of-a-kind entity is listed as the first line on the sheet left on your chair.” I looked down at the $10,000,000.00 and gave a low whistle. “For our foreign friends in the audience, those are American dollars, which must come as a letdown to those of you still collecting bounties in pounds, but at least they’re not pesos. If you go to the PUFF website you’ll see that this new bounty was posted in the last fifteen minutes with all of the applicable information to be filled in later.”
The big Pole leaned across me to ask Earl, “Is he telling truth?”
“He’s from the government, all right,” Earl said, which didn’t really answer the question.
“Some of you may be wondering if this is legitimate. Understandable. When this meeting is over I’d like everyone present to check their personal bank account. A good faith payment of ten thousand dollars has been placed into each to compensate you for your time. Think of it like a gift basket, only without the mixed nuts. But more importantly, you will be able to confirm that the money was wired there by the United States Treasury’s Perpetual Unearthly Forces Fund. That should confirm I am who I say I am.”
He hadn’t really said who he was at all, but if this Stricken could get the PUFF to move that quick, the dude had some pull. Getting them to process something as simple as a zombie kill required processing reams of paperwork.
“More importantly, my task force has oversight over the requests for proposals on several new, very lucrative US government contracts. You heard the new MCB director. I’m talking about several worldwide markets, too. Whichever company manages to complete this particular assignment will…let’s be honest, win many of these contracts.”
That caused a stir. Big government Monster contracts were always worth a fortune, with a company being paid merely to be on call in case something happened at a certain facility, which rarely did. For example, MHI had a contract with the Department of Energy for a few of their sites, including one contract at Los Alamos that dated back to the forties, interrupted only while we’d been shut down. To any Hunting company, contracts like that were like an endless cash dispenser, and when they did come up, the competition was fierce.
Being the accountant that I am, I turned to Earl excitedly. We were talking about astronomical sums of money, but the look in his eye told me that none of that sounded in the least bit appealing to him.
“What is the monster?” the German, Lindemann, asked. Stricken looked to his monitor. “I will save you the time, Mr. Stricken. Klaus Lindemann, Grimm Berlin. We get the point. You are well informed. I too, enjoy being informed. So please, do tell us what is the nature of this creature?”
Stricken smiled, and there was something inherently wrong about that expression, like the muscles of his gaunt face weren’t used to making friendly shapes. “Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Lindemann. The threat is of an unknown type and number. There are no witnesses. The only intelligence we have is where it last struck, the coordinates of which are on your sheet.”
The German spoke for all of us. “It would seem that if the type is unknown, then this bounty seems suspiciously excessive. Normally, such a payment is reserved for the most lethal of beings.”
Stricken’s smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “Like I said, your reputation precedes you. So full of annoying questions…Participate or not. Your decision. The rules of the contest are as follows. Whoever kills this thing first collects the money, wins a bunch of contracts, and gets to brag that they’re the best. I want it dead and I want it dead now. I do not give a shit how you do it as long as it gets done fast. The rest of you can cry about it to each other in the hotel bar later. When it’s dead, call the provided phone number and everything will be arranged.”
“This is not fair,” shouted one of the Europeans. “We were not allowed to bring most of our equipment into the country!”
This time Stricken didn’t even bother to look up the man’s name. He pointed at himself. “Does this look like the face of a man who gives a flying fuck about the concept of fair? Improvise, asshole. The world’s biggest arms expo is being held down the street. You’ll think of something. What the hell are you waiting for? The clock is ticking.”
The Hunters looked at each other, confused.
“What’s wrong with you? It’s a race. Act like it!” Stricken shouted. “Go!”
Uneasy, several of Hunters rose. The early standers sized each other up, wheels turning, because no matter who you were, ten million dollars was a lot of money, and to some of these smaller companies, a single decent contract could guarantee their future, and so the rush began. Several of the Hunters went for the exit at the same time in a big ungainly clump.
“Monster Hunter International, stand down,” Earl said with the utmost calm, knowing that every one of his people would comply instantly. “We ain’t going nowhere.”
However, most of the room ran for it. Cody had to get out of the doorway to keep from being trampled, as men from five different companies tried to push the doors open at the same time. The burly Pole didn’t want to try to squeeze past me, so he kicked his chair over and went out that way. Some of the smarter commanders simply pulled out their phones and alerted their subordinates, rather than trying to fight the mob. I spotted Armstrong shoving his way out, but he was too busy thinking about how to spend that much PUFF money to notice me violating his restraining order. The violent, struggling clot of Hunters finally broke loose, and they spilled out into the hall as Stricken’s image continued to watch the monitors with approval. There was something about his smile that was simply unnerving.
Lindemann stopped next to Earl. Unlike many there, he didn’t seem ruffled in the slightest. “This man Stricken, you are certain he is with your government?”
“He ain’t from the nice part,” Earl said.
“I was not aware that there was a nice part,” Lindemann chuckled. “If you would excuse me then, gentlemen.” He calmly walked down the now clear aisle.
“I believe that man intends to win,” I said.
“My money is on him,” Earl answered. “But you never know. Maybe one of the new ones will surprise us.”
“It’s a shame to have outsiders handling work on our turf…Oh man, they’re foreigners doing the jobs Americans don’t want to do. That’s so tacky.”
“Trust me on this one. We don’t want any part of Unicorn business.”
“Wait…So that’s Unicorn?”
“Special Task Force Unicorn.”
“They like MCB?”
“Not in the slightest, but not in any of the good ways. MCB is to hide monsters from people. STFU is to use monsters against people. I’m surprised to see the rat come out of the walls.”
Stricken was still watching his monitor, waiting, as the last of the experienced Hunters left and all that remained was MHI. “Harbinger, I’m surprised. You don’t strike me as a man that likes losing.”
“I especially don’t like to lose people,” Earl said, sounding strained.
“Me either, which is why I want this mission wrapped up rikki-tic. Who else do you have there? I can see you left half your leaders outside just in case. Clever…” Stricken’s glasses moved to the other side and he read. “Pitt, Owen Z.…Now you’re an interesting case.”
I didn’t know anything about this man, but I knew I didn’t want him paying any attention to me. “Not particularly.”
“Keep telling yourself that, kid. I’ve got some blank spots in my file about you. I really don’t like having blank spots. Incomplete reports keep me up at night.” I was so glad Myers had shredded his paperwork about me after the Arbmunep.
“One of your pets go off the reservation again?” Earl challenged.
Stricken chuckled. “No, this isn’t one of mine. My current roster is very well behaved, plays well with others, follows orders, regular upstanding citizens deserving of future PUFF exemptions. I couldn’t ask for a better strike force of supernatural killers. Oh, why the sad face? Come on, Earl, still bitter? She’s almost halfway done, just over one year left, then time’s served, she’s free to go.”
Earl was leaning forward, holding onto the back of the folding chair in front of him. The metal beneath his hands creaked and bent as his knuckles turned white. “I’ve already cleaned up one of your mistakes. The suckers can handle this one. You wouldn’t be coming to us unless you want somebody else to bleed on your behalf.”
“You’ve got me all wrong.” Stricken clucked disapprovingly and shook his head with theatrical sadness. “As one professional to another, I’ll level with you. This isn’t one of mine, but it was one of the task force’s teams that responded to investigate. Intel said this should’ve been a cakewalk, turned out it wasn’t. That team has gone missing.”
“Surprised you care.”
“There’re always more things looking for a PUFF exemption to replace them.” He shrugged. “But I do hate losing valuable assets, especially pretty redheads.”
The metal in Earl’s hands snapped in two.
“See you around, Earl. Enjoy your conference.” Stricken reached toward the camera. The screen went black.
“No!” Earl stood, flinging one hand outward and sending four chairs clattering across the room. “Son of a bitch!”
A picture appeared on the TV screen. Three figures were walking down the lowered back ramp of a gray C-130 cargo plane. Behind them was a high desert scene, brown sagebrush dusted with dirty snow. They were dressed in multicam and combat gear, carrying rifles. There were two men in front and an attractive woman in back. Her red hair was rather striking in a shot so filled with bland, dusty colors.
“Heather…” Earl whispered. He walked forward, as if in a daze, staring at the TV screen. After a few seconds, the picture disappeared and the TV changed to silent static. “Damn it!” Earl smashed his fist into the TV and knocked it flying from its stand to explode into pieces against the far wall. Earl stood there, back to us, shoulders hunched, fists clenched.
“Earl?” Cody asked. “You okay?”
“Team leads, collect your men. We’re going hunting,” he snapped. “Move out.”
The team leads obeyed and immediately hurried from the room. I stuck around. The team leads had all been briefed on his condition, but they hadn’t seen it up close like I had. Earl was breathing hard, head down, staring at the broken TV. I’d seen him change before. I recognized the signs. I could feel the energy in the air. Stricken had enraged him so suddenly that it had provoked the beast within…
I reached to the compact STI .45 that was concealed in a tuckable holster on my belt. We both knew the drill. Earl was squared away, more so than any other werewolf, but letting a werewolf change inside a place crowded with innocents was simply unthinkable. I didn’t want to shoot my friend, didn’t think I’d need to, but those were his orders, and I wasn’t going to take any chances. Come on, Earl. “You okay?” I asked after a few seconds.
He turned around. His respiration had slowed. His eyes were the normal blue rather than the dangerous gold. Earl turned, in control again, dragged a shard of glass out from between his knuckles, and tossed it on the carpet. “Will be, as soon as I snap Stricken’s neck. Let’s get to the airport.”