The Monster Control Bureau arrived a few minutes later, blasting in with two Blackhawks and a single Apache helicopter and doing their whole usual dramatic entrance, slide down the ropes and yell at everyone bit. I warned Lindemann and his men about what to expect, so we were prepared to go peacefully. The MCB response wasn’t nearly as ham-fisted as I was used to, and the responding agents didn’t even make us lay face down in the snow while screaming commands at us. I suspect that was because Agent Archer was the first one down the rope and he recognized me right away. Lindemann started to explain what had gone down, but things got really complicated when several Nevada Highway Patrol cars came in, sirens blaring, and the Feds started fighting with the locals, who were really pissed off and anxious to find their man in distress.
The MCB kept the cops away from the giant spider, but they allowed me to at least tell the cops that we’d airlifted their buddy out. However, they did it with an agent standing in my shadow to make sure I didn’t say anything about any monsters. Monsters? That’s crazy talk! Things began to calm down when the responders got word that Holly had radioed their dispatch and reported that they were on the way to the hospital.
After that, the scene became a circus. Several bullet bikes were stopped at the south roadblock, ridden by Hunters who’d snagged the fastest thing they could in Vegas. Paranormal Tactical arrived next in several SUVs with tinted windows, having broken a lot of speed limits to get here. From a distance, I witnessed Armstrong arguing with Agent Archer when the MCB wouldn’t let them through the barricade. Earl’s group that had come in the jet arrived from the opposite direction, riding in two borrowed pickups. They got stuck at the roadblock on that end. I sent Trip and Edward to meet them. Trip snuck the DVD with him, and Edward still had his kidnapped chicken.
I had somebody else I wanted to speak with first.
Agent Franks was inside the store, squatting next to the body, examining the carnage. Two other agents were taking pictures. I figured that since they hadn’t thrown me out yet—since officially I’d been here for the assist—talking was worth a shot. “Looking for any useful replacement bits? His left foot still seems to be in pretty good shape.”
Franks stood and glared at me.
“How’s that work, though? Do you have to try to find new feet in the same size? Because otherwise buying shoes would be a real pain the ass. Excuse me, I’d like these, but in a size ten for the right and a size thirteen for the left. I bet the shoe store hates you.”
“Escort Pitt from the premises,” Franks told his men, then went back to his examination. “If he resists, shoot him in the face.”
“Well, that’s fairly specific.” Before the first agent could reach me, I quickly said, “I wanted to talk about a mythological horse.”
Franks held up one hand. His men paused. “Leave us.” The agents knew better than to question Franks, gathered their cameras, gave me the stink-eye, and walked out, making quite a bit of noise on the broken glass. “What do you want, Pitt?”
“Your radio on?”
Franks moved his hand over and shut it off.
“Stricken? Know him? Really white fella, kind of scary. Controls a shadow government agency and throws millions of dollars at monsters worth a couple thousand bucks. Ringing any bells?”
“Ought to ring your bell…” Franks muttered, not bothering to look at me. “I know of him.”
“I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him in person either, but you know about this job he sent us all on…Did you hear the part where he said one of his teams went missing?”
Franks stopped poking at the body for a moment to shake his head in the negative.
“Interesting, don’t you think? Assuming he was telling the truth, a Unicorn team, including a werewolf that Earl Harbinger insists is remarkably talented, went missing. You heard about any more of these spiders?”
No response. I took that as another no.
“You’d think they’d stick out, rampaging and all. So just this one little critter takes out a strike team made up of PUFF-exempt monsters, massacres a truck stop full of people, then runs thirty miles an hour to come down here to eat this guy. Odd.”
“Your point?”
“Just wondering. Is the MCB as in the dark about this as we are?”
“I see fine in the dark. You don’t. You still owe me a kidney.”
Accidently shoot a guy once and he never lets you live it down. “I’ve got the organ donor sticker on my driver’s license. I’ll make sure to put you in my will. Agent Franks gets my kidneys. I hope you’re not in a rush to collect.”
Franks stood up. “Keep pushing and find out…”
“Stricken is who got Myers demoted. Right?”
Franks stepped over the body and began walking to the garage.
“Franks, wait.” Luckily, he paused, because I probably couldn’t have stopped him if I’d wanted to. “Myers is a scumbag, but we both know that everything he did, no matter how stupid or ineffectual it was, was to defend this country. This new guy, I don’t know what his deal is. All I know is something strange is going on. Not just in this particular case, but all over the world. Myers knew that. He could see the pattern. I know you can, too. Now you’ve got a puppet for a boss and a shady character calling the shots. We’ve both been to the other side. We know what’s out there. I don’t want them—”
“Do you ever get to the point?”
I suppose by Franks’ taciturn standards I’d just given a speech. “Okay, fine. I’m offering my help.”
Franks seemed to think about it at least. “Noted…” Then the big agent simply left the room. The two agents that had been waiting a polite distance away returned to take their photographs.
So much for trying to be nice. Not that I particularly wanted to throw my lot in with Franks, but this whole situation was making me uneasy. Change was in the air, and not in a good way. Distracted by thoughts of the day’s odd revelations and new questions, I walked down the road in the dark, making my way to where the rest of MHI was parked at the police barricade. It was time to go home; well, Vegas was close enough to home for now. At least it was warmer there. After the stomach-churning ride up here, I was happy to volunteer to drive a car home. Hell, I’d walk.
The sound of shouting stopped me in my tracks. It wasn’t fearful or surprised shouting, which were the sorts that Hunters tuned into the fastest because it usually meant that something was coming to eat you, but rather this was officious and angry shouting, which wasn’t as dangerous, but nearly as interesting. I stopped to listen, and when I couldn’t hear exactly what was being said, I put in my electronic hearing protection and cranked the volume all the way up.
Two figures were standing next to the garage under the few remaining lights of the elevated sign. I was standing in the center of a dark road, so I could see them a bit, but they couldn’t see me at all. The hulking one in all the body armor was obviously Agent Franks. The thinner man in the trench coat was unfamiliar, but he was the one doing the shouting.
“—stuff it! I don’t care what Myers would’ve done. Myers is out. This is a Task Force mission now! If you don’t like it, call your new boss. Stark will tell you the same thing. Stay out of our way.”
“Sir,” Franks didn’t so much as raise his voice, but he still managed to sound dangerous. “With all due respect—”
The other man was oblivious to just how lethal Franks could be. “I don’t want your opinion, Agent. MCB is glorified crowd control and I don’t see any witnesses here for you to intimidate. Man your little roadblocks and write your press releases. If we need a trigger pulled, we’ll call you. Until then we’ll do the heavy lifting.”
Franks wasn’t deterred. “This smells like Decision Week—”
“The Task Force will make that determination after we inspect the evidence. Not you. Mr. Stricken wants you back in Las Vegas. You’re too stupid to make policy decisions.”
I was shocked that Franks didn’t simply reach over and pull the man’s arms off. I wasn’t aware that you could insult Franks that directly and live. But Franks stood there, absolutely motionless and just took it. How powerful were these Unicorn people?
“Director Myers was deluded. The president made his call. They keep you around to kill things, Agent Franks, not for your brains. You’re a relic. You’re a monster that’s been given too long of a leash. Your handlers have given you too much leeway for too long. You’ll shut up, get in line, and do what you’re told. Get that through your thick, armor-plated skull, and we’ll all be better off.”
“You need me,” Franks said, so quietly that I could barely pick it up.
“If it was up to me, we’d dismantle you and bring back the Nemesis Project.” The stranger was actually stupid and prideful enough to laugh at Franks.
Franks’ manner changed. Just a little shifting of his stance, but I could sense the sudden danger from where I was. Franks had just switched from Obsequious Government Employee Mode to Kill Your Ass Mode. This ought to be good. The new guy must have caught the subtle difference too, as the laughter quickly died. The agent gently placed one large hand on the stranger’s shoulder.