Altar Of Eden

As Jack paced the secure room, he rubbed his temples, trying to hold his head from splitting apart. Since he’d arrived here, his skin had begun to burn with a fever, and an ache smoldered deep in his bones, ready to catch fire. He had dry-swallowed three aspirins and waited for them to kick in. He didn’t have time to be sick-and this tension wasn’t helping.

“How long do we need to stay here?” Zoë asked.

Jack lowered his hands from his head. “No more than a day.”

By that time Lorna’s fate would be sealed. It would no longer be necessary to maintain the ruse that everyone had perished at ACRES. The first emergency response helicopter had arrived on scene a quarter hour after Jack had found Burt in the woods. He had been relieved to see the CPB emblem on the chopper’s side. The station’s helicopters were often first-responders.

Jack had waved the chopper down. He knew the pilot well and quickly explained the necessity to keep their fate under wraps. Afterward, Jack coordinated with law enforcement to maintain that blanket. Morning news shows were already reporting on the tragedy and the lack of survivors. Shortly after that, the local NBC affiliate received an e-mail claiming the firebombing was the work of a new animal-rights terrorist group.

It was surely bogus, likely planted by whoever orchestrated the assault. Still, it served Jack equally well. The terrorist angle had the news organizations chasing their own tails. No one questioned the lack of witnesses or survivors.

Afterward, Jack had moved everyone here.

Including Burt and the animals from the trawler.

Randy slouched in an office chair, his eyes closed, with Burt curled at his feet. The other animals were recovering from mild tranquilizers. Dr. Greer had removed their tracking tags under local anesthesia. The tags rested on a nearby table, secured in a copper Faraday cage to prevent them from being tracked. All except one that was being analyzed by a computer forensics expert brought in from the local FBI office. With magnifying glasses fixed to his face, he had deactivated the tag.

He also confirmed Jack’s earlier suspicion. “This isn’t commercial grade. I’d say military or paramilitary. Either way, someone with money.”

As they waited for further details, Carlton joined Jack, cradling a mug of coffee in his hands. “If your man is right, it confirms a suspicion.”

“What’s that?” Jack asked, glad for the diversion.

“All that’s happened. This is beyond a simple corporation sidestepping rules and regulations regarding animal research. This has the fingerprints of something larger. Possibly with government backing.”

“As in our government?”

Carlton looked upon him as if he were a naive child. “Underground projects are financed all the time by the U.S. government, including grants from DARPA, the Defense Department’s research-and-development agency. But you should know that over the past few years, rumors have persisted in the scientific community of projects so black that people disappear into them and are never seen again.”

“And you think we stumbled onto one of them?”

Carlton sighed. “I don’t know. But there’s another worrisome trend. In regard to private defense contractors. I assume with your military background that you’re familiar with Blackwater?”

Jack nodded.

Blackwater was a private corporate security force contracted by the U.S. government to serve in Iraq and Afghanistan. Basically they were mercenaries. Jack had worked alongside several members of Black-water in Iraq. He had no beef with any of them, though there was a certain level of resentment among U.S. troops. Both armies fought in the same terrain, but the Blackwater mercenaries were both better equipped and better paid. In fact, most were former soldiers recruited after leaving the service. Even Jack had been approached and considered it.

Then the scandals broke out about Blackwater: testimonials of secret assassination programs, weapons smuggling, massacres of civilians, even the deaths of federal witnesses.

In the end, Jack had opted to protect the homeland here.

“Why bring up Blackwater?” he asked.

“Because the corporation earned over a billion dollars in government contracts since 2000. And they’re only one of six hundred such firms operating in the two theaters of war.”

“I’m well aware,” he growled, urging the man to get to the point.

“Then what you might not know is that such contracting is no longer limited to just paramilitary firms-the scientific community has also been co-opted. Hundreds of research groups have hopped on the bandwagon. Large and small. And from what I’ve heard, the competition is not only fierce-but also cutthroat.”

Jack hadn’t known about this detail. He pictured the animals, the assault force, the brutality.

“With such vast sums of money involved,” Carlton continued, “the scandals of Blackwater are spreading like a virus through these scientific communities. Accusations of corporate espionage, vandalism, outsourcing of research to third-world countries to avoid regulations. The list goes on and on.”

Jack understood the doctor’s concern. Such a description certainly fit with all that had happened.

A door swung open behind him. Lorna’s brother had returned from the medical ward. His arm was in a plaster cast from hand to elbow. His gaze was glassy from painkillers.

Randy stirred and opened one eye toward Kyle. “Great,” he mumbled under his breath. “So one of the Polks has rejoined us. Guess that means someone’s gonna try to kill me again.”

Kyle scowled at Randy. “What’re you talking about?”

Jack stepped between them. His head pounded. He didn’t need any more aggravation, especially from Randy. Whatever wall had dropped between the two brothers out in the woods had risen back up in the light of day.

“Randy, just keep your mouth shut for once.”

His brother glowered and crossed his arms. “I’m just saying, whenever Menards and Polks mix, someone in our family gets killed-or nearly killed in my case.”

Kyle’s face went a deep red. “So then what about my sister? You and your brother are here swilling coffee and stuffing your faces with doughnuts while she’s still in danger.”

“There’re doughnuts?” Randy asked, sitting straighter.

Kyle shook his head and turned his wrath on Jack. He lifted his arm. “I’m all fixed up. So what are we going to do about Lorna? You said you had a way of finding her.”

“Calm down. I do… or hope I do.” He glanced over to the computer forensics expert.