Chapter 21
MISSING PIECES
Ron and Molly
“Is she home or not, Ron? Was that alarm real? Or was it a squirrel or something?”
“Yep. I can hear her moving around. Let me listen some more. The back door is a bit far from the bug. That…that sounded like the frankenstruct speaking!”
“We doing a shotgun entry then? Sounds like she needs saving? I’ll go get the weapons. How dare he!”
“Wait. Wait. He sorta said here we are, your home. It sounded really friendly. Now she’s thanking him.”
“Could be a ruse. Wish we had the video bugs in there still.”
“Connected these ones back up as fast as I could while she was distracted this morning. Okay, they must be walking down the hallway. Banging sounds, boots. Should be right close to this bug now. Uhhh, she just said, fuck me?”
“What sort? There’s good fuck mes and bad ones.” Molly elbows Ron and chuckles.
“Shhhh. A disgustingly filthy sort maybe. She sounded shocked but breathy?”
“He could’ve stabbed her or something?”
“Maybe. I’m inclined toward this is them smooching.
” Ron clears his throat. “Nope. Nope. Worse.” He grins.
“He just said he wants to tie her up…like last time.” He goes quiet for a few minutes and waves Molly down when she tries to speak.
Finally, he sits back and takes out his earpiece.
“Might be lucky we don’t have video. I think they’re getting along fine and all.
If he stabs her, it won’t be with a knife.
I’m shutting this down. We should text her in the morning. ”
“Stabbed but not with a knife… Your in-your-end-Os are pitiful, Ron McClusker.”
“Tsk. Molly. I am not sure you should be insinuating that. I might have to tie you up.”
“Catch me first, old man.”
“That I will.”
Clay Skinner
The buzz of the phone receiving a text wakes me, and I reach across and flail about on the bedside table then bring the offending device to my face. Only emergencies are supposed to be sent to me at this hour. Which is? I blink at the clock on the phone. “Three thirty AM?”
I sit on the edge of the bed, with the sheet swept aside.
Rebecca mutters, and I glance behind to see she’s still dead asleep, barely stirring.
The text though. It’s from Cannon. I expect she’s had her scare delivered. That wouldn’t be an emergency. I rub my face and click through to the text.
CANNON: Our two individuals are missing in action and overdue to report. They are not answering queries. Last known location was beside the T house.
The two men are missing? Our two? Hailey Tarrant’s house that would be referring to.
CANNON: I sent a discreet unit to check and we have no one in sight or responding in that locality.
Unless you revoke this, I will have men combing the area for any signs of them in a few minutes.
The subject appears to be at home, judging by sounds that one agent has heard, and her vehicle is in the garage.
The only signal we can get is a weak one that corresponds to the bodycam and appears to be coming from the north-west. Sent men to find that.
Revoke? I’m not reversing what Cannon has decided to order done.
I stare at the wall where a Renoir hides the opening of the safe.
Replying to that is not necessary. North-west means the mountains above the town, means this could take a while because the area is rough, steep, all that crap.
A chopper might help but we don’t want to draw attention to the search.
I rise and pad to the armchair to get my dressing gown from where I flung it, wrap it around me then head for my study.
My sleep deprivation will be chalked up on Hailey’s debit column.
What has she done? Nothing probably. It must be some accident.
Have they driven off the road and crashed?
There are almost no roads up there… Were they following her?
If so, what was she doing up there at night?
We’re so close to cracking the research. This Hailey business needs to be finished. Simon Tarrant sent the research in a new direction, and the past six months have been turbocharged. A pity he turned traitor.
I may as well stay awake and wait for updates.
With the laptop fired up, I cannot resist the temptation to check the cryo room where the bodies wait for their revival.
The glass lids of the cryo coffins makes for easy observation and ID.
Some of the corpses are gruesome, even frozen in death, due to their missing limbs and various chunks taken out of their bodies.
Leisurely, I touch-scroll along the row the camera is pointing down.
Twenty-four now, in total, since the latest shipment.
War does tend to deliver copious death and ripped-apart corpses.
These few we siphoned off will never be noticed.
Ensuring no close relatives, getting those forms signed, and leaving few footprints in the system is the key.
Once we’re done with them, once we have this perfected, their own mommies won’t recognize them, and we will have the most unique product to offer the military since the dawn of time.
The last one on this row is a female, and I know I’m smiling, but there is something arousing about seeing a woman I fucked and tortured to death lying there waiting for me to bring her back to life, so I can command her again.
Bend over. Cry. Suck. Open those legs.
And now? Kill those men might be possible. The strength, resilience and healing of frankenstructs is likely to be beyond the maximum of normal humans. And killing them, again, that should be difficult.