Blood & Thunder (THIRDS 2)

As soon as their fellow agents from Beta Pride and Beta Ambush showed up, they left the perps to them, and Sloane motioned for Dex to follow. Along the way, they removed their ballistic helmets and handed them to one of the agents standing by. They headed into the main structure, which was still smoky from Calvin and Hobbs’s entry.

“What have we got?” Sloane asked as they took in their surroundings. The aluminum structure was supposed to be a three-car garage, but instead had been set up as a base, with insulated walls, rows of metal shelving running down two of the walls, a third wall strewn with corkboards containing maps, newspaper articles, invoices, and a host of other random paperwork. In the center of the room were three large metal tables with supplies, boxes, burner phones, masonry tools, and weapons. Dex caught Hobbs’s gaze and followed the silent agent’s finger pointing to one of the large shelving units. Calvin joined his partner and called them over.

“Sulfuric acid, nitroglycerine, batteries, timers.” Calvin picked up a box of heavy-duty nails. “From the looks of it, they weren’t thinking about just taking out buildings.”

Sick bastards. It was bad enough they wanted to plant bombs, but to build them with the specific purpose of killing and maiming innocent citizens? How deluded could they be to think they’d be doing good? Like crime in this city wasn’t bad enough, now they had a whole new level of fucked up to deal with.

“Any explosive devices already constructed?” Sloane asked.

Calvin shook his head. “No, just the materials, though Hobbs says they’d need more than this. He thinks maybe they were in early stages, collecting supplies, getting ready to build the bombs.” He cast Hobbs a glance, and his large Therian partner nodded somberly.

“Okay, thanks, guys.” Sloane let out a sigh, and Dex knew what his partner was thinking. Unless one of those bastards out there spilled, they wouldn’t have much to go on. Getting these assholes off the street was a win, but until they had Isaac Pearce, the danger was nowhere near over. Who knew how many more bases just like this one were out there. How many already had devices waiting to go off?

Dex stepped up to the corkboards, hoping to glean some information, anything that might give them a clue as to where to find the Order’s leader. “Everything’s so neat.”

“What do you mean?”

Sloane joined him, and Dex waved a hand over one of the corkboards. “All the maps are brand new, like they’d just been bought, and they’re not of any specific locale. There’s a street map of Brooklyn, a subway map of New York City, a bike map of Manhattan, and I’m pretty sure that one there of this area is an Internet printout. The news articles are perfectly clipped and all from the last two months. They pinned up the invoices for Christ’s sake. What bomber pins up their supply invoices? Are they planning on writing off the expenses?” He leaned in closer. “They’re also all dated two months ago.” Looking around the room, he strode back over to one of the shelves, where he ran a gloved finger over one of the timers. “There’s a thin layer of dust on most of the supplies. Like they’d been placed on the shelves and not touched since. They could have been waiting for orders, or….”

“They could have been waiting for us,” Sloane finished. He stroked his jaw. “Good job, Dex. You’re right. This all seems too… easy. Let’s see if anyone’s cracked.” He tapped his earpiece. “Cael?”

“Call in the CSA’s?” Cael replied over their earpiece.

“Yeah. I want this place swept from corner to corner, and I want to be notified as soon as they get the detailed inventory attached to the case file.”

“You got it.”

Dex followed Sloane outside where fifteen perps were sitting on the ground in a neat row, hands secured behind their backs with nearly twice the number of heavily armed agents positioned around them in case someone got a stupid idea in their head. It was amazing what some criminals did when they were desperate. Just as the thought crossed his mind, one of the men jumped to his feet and started running.

Ash stared after the guy. “Where the fuck does he think he’s going?”

With an agent drawing in from every angle, the guy came to a skidding halt then stunned them all by jumping into the East River where he proceeded to sputter, gasp, and in between drowning, call out for help.

“Seriously?” Dex had seen some pretty stupid shit in his time, but this one was right up there with the guy who tried to steal his patrol car with him in it back when he’d been an HPF rookie. Ash let out a snort of laughter. “What an ass hat.”

After losing a round of Rock-paper-scissors, one of Beta Ambush’s Therian agents started stripping, cursing up a storm the whole way. Down to his colorful boxers and flipping off his fellow teammates whistling and throwing catcalls at him, he dove into the river, popping back out a few breaths later and dragging the wheezing man with him. The dark haired agent pulled himself up with one hand and tossed the man up onto the dirt with the other.

The agent climbed out, snatched the towel from a teammate, and glared at their arrestees. “That’s the last time I’m doing that. Someone else want to be a moron, you’re going to drown. Shit, that water’s cold.” He gave a sniff. “Ugh, it reeks. Am I going to

be quarantined? This shit smells toxic.”

His teammates laughed until Sloane held up a hand, silencing everyone. He stepped up to the line of somber looking men, a couple looking no older than Cael. In fact, one in particular caught Dex’s attention. The kid was sixteen, seventeen at most.

“Where’s Isaac Pearce?” Sloane demanded. He paced slowly in front of them, his intense amber gaze studying their perps. Dex wasn’t surprised to find fear creeping into some of their defiant gazes. None of them looked like hardened criminals. Standing over six and a half feet tall and weighing 240 pounds without the eighty pounds of equipment strapped to him, Sloane Brodie was imposing to most even when he wasn’t in intimidation mode. Add the fact he was a Therian with the government tattoo on his thick neck marking him as a jaguar Therian and the twenty-odd years of field experience, and you’d have to be dumber than the guy who swan-dived into the river not to be scared shitless.

“Do you realize the severity of your situation? Do you think the THIRDS takes terrorism lightly? Your so-called leader murdered an officer of the law in front of the world. He’s made threats against innocent civilians, against innocent children. He’s looking at life in prison, if he’s lucky. This is your chance to do the right thing, to save what’s left of your future.”

One beer-gutted idiot spat at Sloane’s feet. “We’ll never talk to you, Therian freak. Your kind is a mistake. The Human race is superior. You’re nothing more than a glorified pet. Your kind should be locked away in zoos with the rest of the animals or put down. Humans for dominance!” The guy started chanting and Dex rolled his eyes. “Humans for dominance! Humans for—”

Sloane’s boot against the guy’s chest, knocking him over and onto his bound up arms, put a stop to the chanting. It wasn’t even a kick. A tap from Sloane was enough to send the guy tipping over and flailing like a turtle on his shell trying to right himself. Dex put a gloved fist to his mouth to keep himself from laughing. “Anyone have something useful to say?” Sloane asked.

Dex studied the silent, glaring group, his gaze landing on the teenager again. The kid swallowed hard, his eyes not moving from the ground. An older man with a strong resemblance knelt beside him. Dex tapped his earpiece. “Sloane.” His partner glanced at him, and without a word walked over, following Dex to one side.

“What’s up?”

“I think we should try the Deceptive Dash.”

Sloane arched an eyebrow at him. “You think it’ll work?”