The Medusa Prophecy

by Cindy Dees

  With the sounds of the village beginning to stir outside came a knock on their door that pulled her the rest of the way to full consciousness. Karen sat up guiltily, but Anders showed no such trepidation about someone finding them wrapped in each other’s arms. He remained lying down, spooned around her.

  “Come in,” he called.

  She threw an exasperated look down at him, but he smiled back with that bland smugness only a guy or a cat can summon at the most inconvenient possible moment.

  Vanessa ducked inside. And froze in place where she stood. Please God, let that be her eyes adjusting to the dark and not shock over finding us all snuggled up like this.

  All Vanessa said was, “Phone for you, Anders.”

  He sat up and took the cell phone. At least he was fully dressed. Karen hated to think what Vanessa would’ve thought if he’d been shirtless when he sat up. Karen stood up and moved away from him, too uncomfortable snuggling with some guy in front of her boss to stay beside him any longer.

  “Larson here.” He listened for a long time. Frowned. Glanced over at Karen as if he was startled and frowned some more. And then he said the last thing Karen expected to hear. “Roger, I copy. We are green-lighted for the operation.”

  He disconnected the call, and she and Vanessa said in unison, “What operation?”

  “Looks like we’ve got a job to do, ladies.”

  “Another training mission?” Karen asked, frowning.

  “No. The real deal. Let’s get the team together and I’ll brief all of you.”

  Vanessa nodded briskly. “I’ll be back in five with everyone.”

  Anders stood up quickly and began stripping off layers of clothes. Karen blinked, startled. “Any particular reason you’re getting naked?”

  He looked up from where he was rummaging in his pack. And grinned. Wolfishly. “Why? Wanna go for a quickie before they all get here?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t mock me. I’m a homicidal maniac.”

  He laughed, completely unconcerned, as he came up with a clean shirt. “I need a dry shirt. I’m afraid spending the night so close to you made me sweat.” He added, “And not in fear, I might add.”

  She stepped behind the curtain that hid the chamber pot to don new clothes herself and called out, “I kicked your butt once, smart aleck. I can do it again.”

  “That twenty-krone bet is still on,” he called back. “Any time, Turner.”

  She’d just stepped around the curtain when the door opened and Misty, Kat and Aleesha stepped in.

  “How’s my patient this morning?” Aleesha asked, coming over to Karen to check her vital signs.

  Karen shrugged. “I had a rough night.”

  Anders added, “But we got through it. The exercise yesterday seemed to make things worse, not better, though. And I have some new information for you, Doctor.”

  The door opened again, and Isabella, Vanessa and Jack walked in. The gang was all here. And the atmosphere in the hut was electric. But then, it was always like that before a mission brief. As soon as they knew what they had to do, everyone would calm down and get to business. But until then, you could cut the adrenaline with a knife.

  Aleesha looked up from where she was unwrapping the cuff from around Karen’s arm. “You blood pressure’s reasonable under the circumstances,” she murmured to Karen. To Anders she said, “Well, laddie, don’ keep me hangin’. What’s de word up?”

  “My headquarters said to tell you the Oslo Police have identified the powder from those barrels. It’s made up of an engineered molecule similar to LSD.”

  Into the heavy silence that greeted that announcement, Karen said, “Gee. That explains a lot. I’m tripping on LSD.”

  Meanwhile Aleesha was nodding. “Of course. LSD resides in fat. That’s why exercising hard made you worse last night. You burned some fat cells that released more of the drug. What quantity of this stuff are people ingesting to induce these episodes, and how long does it take to clear their systems?”

  “Ops didn’t say. But if you call them, they can probably patch you through to someone who knows.”

  Karen blinked. This was a side of Anders she hadn’t seen so far—the brisk, no-nonsense team leader. And it was sexy as hell. Especially when combined with the intimate, gentle side of him she’d seen last night.

  Anders continued, “Given the contents of those barrels, my superiors feel comfortable authorizing the destruction of the drug lab and the apprehension of all persons associated with it. But the storm everyone’s been forecasting is finally moving in. Everything from Bodo to Tromsö is already socked in and we should get hit by tonight. The army can’t send up anything airborne to knock out the lab for a couple of days.”

  A general groan went up.

  “Here’s the kicker,” he said grimly. “Satellite imagery shows heavy activity at the lab. Seems they’re moving barrels away from the lab on snowmobiles at a steady and continuous rate. They’re ferrying the barrels to a small cargo vessel moored off the coast. The Norwegian Coast Guard is steaming in that direction, but they’re being hampered by heavy seas. It may be another couple of days before they can reach the ship.”

  “Any estimate from your headquarters on how long it’ll take the bad guys to finish moving out the barrels?” Vanessa asked.

  “Less time than it’ll take the storm to pass and the airport to open back up.”

  “In other words,” Karen interjected, “we get to go in on foot and eliminate the problem.”

  Anders nodded. “That’s the idea.”

  “Any chance we can get your people to drop off some weapons and ammo for us before we have to do this?” Vanessa asked.

  “Nope. Everything the army has is already grounded. It’s pretty common in the winter. A combination of ice and fog shuts down everything even before the main storm arrives. We’re stuck with what we’ve got.” There was a brief pause while everyone absorbed the implications of that.

  Karen shrugged. “The good news is we’re in a substantial village. We ought to be able to improvise with what’s on hand around town.”

  Misty added wryly, “Terrorists do it all the time. We can, too.”

  The next hour was spent getting Jack up to speed on the layout of the drug lab and brainstorming different methods to take it out with the supplies they had at hand. And then it was time to act.

  As the Medusas stood up to scatter to their various tasks, Karen asked quietly, “What should I do?”

  They all looked at her. Oh. Yeah. The psychopath. What could she be trusted to do? They’d already removed everything she could conceivably use as a weapon from her hut.

  Anders said readily, “Come with me. I could use some help cooking up the ammonium nitrate.”

  They’d settled on making an improvised diesel fuel and fertilizer bomb, and the first step was to wet down and shape the ammonium nitrate fertilizer into cakes. She looked at him uncertainly. “Are you sure?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah. It’s not like you can fertilize me to death.”

  She grinned. “It’s your neck on the line.”

  He looked her square in the eye and said candidly, “I’d feel better if you’re where I can keep an eye on you. Besides,” he added lightly, “I enjoy your company.”

  The other Medusas looked away hastily, but not before she saw Jack’s eyebrows shoot straight up to his hairline. Crap. New fodder for him to harass her about. Mirth twinkled in his eyes as Jack turned back to her. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off before he could utter a word.

  “Don’t get started with me, Jack. I already tried to kill you once. Don’t make me do it again. Besides, who are you to talk?” She gave a significant glance in Vanessa’s direction. To Karen’s immense gratification, both Jack and Vanessa colored up. Uh-huh. That’s what she thought. They’d gotten their own hut last night and hadn’t been talking business.

  The Medusas chuckled as a group and Jack subsided with a bow of the head. “Touché, Python. I shall hereby shut
the fuck up.”

  “Thank you,” she said loftily. “C’mon, Anders. Let’s go make us a bomb.”

  Oslo, Norway, March 9, 4:00 p.m.

  Jens stared down at two more fresh murder files. He rubbed a hand down his exhausted, whisker-stubbled face. He didn’t go much for all that the-world-is-coming-to-an-end stuff, but be damned if he wasn’t starting to believe he’d lived to see the end of days. His phone rang, startling him badly. Damn, he had to get some sleep soon.

  “Schumacher,” he said irritably.

  “Are you always this grouchy when you answer your phone?” a female voice asked pleasantly.

  “Marta. I’m sorry. Long day. What do you have for me?”

  “You’ll never guess what just came in to the lab.”

  “A four-headed gargoyle wearing a yellow polka-dot bikini?”

  She laughed that wonderful laugh of hers again. “Close. But no. A package from Tromsö.”

  “Okay. And what’s so exciting about that?”

  “It’s an entire bag of our LSD variant.”

  Jens’ chair rocked forward with a thump. “A bag of it? Pure? Where the hell’d somebody get that much of it?”

  “They can’t tell me. It’s some big military secret. But now we can test it on some mice and get an exact idea of how this stuff works. Maybe figure out how to counteract it.”

  “That’s great news. Lemme give the folks in Tromsö a try and see if I can get any more information for you.”

  It took him an hour of fast talking and flat-out bullying to finally work his way far enough up the military chain of command to reach someone who seemed to have the authority to give him actual answers to his questions.

  But finally, he was told to stand by one more time while his call was patched through to someone else. Sheesh. What a headache this military red tape was!

  And then the officer he’d been talking to said tersely in English, “Go ahead, Python. This is Detective Schumacher from the Oslo Police.”

  Jens started as a female voice replied in American-accented English, “I have you loud and clear. Go ahead.”

  “You’re a woman!” he exclaimed.

  “Thanks for clearing that up for me,” the voice replied dryly. “I wasn’t sure.”

  Laughter burst out of him before he could bite it back. “Sorry. No offense meant.”

  “None taken. What can I do for you, Detective?”

  “Who am I speaking to?”

  The American woman ignored the question. “Headquarters thinks I might be able to answer some of your questions. I understand you’re having an outburst of violence in Oslo that you think might be drug-related.”

  “That’s correct. We’re looking for the dealers who are passing this stuff. Do you have any idea who the suppliers might be?”

  The woman’s reply startled him. “HQ. Are you still up?”

  A male voice—sounded like the last guy who’d patched Jens through to this woman—answered, “Affirmative, Python.”

  “Am I cleared to respond?”

  Jens frowned. Who in the hell were these people? “We’ve got folks dying down here. We need whatever you’ve got.”

  A pause. And then the male voice said, “You are cleared to answer, Python, but are prohibited from revealing any exact locations.”

  “Copy.” That was the anonymous woman again. “Sorry about that, Detective. Had to make sure I had permission to speak.”

  So. She was military. A woman out on exercises with the Special Forces? Interesting.

  She continued, “We have located a laboratory that appears to be producing a dangerous chemical substance. We believe it may be the same substance that’s causing the problems in Oslo.”

  “Are you responsible for the bag of powder our chemists received earlier today?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “That is, indeed, the same drug we’ve been spotting in the blood toxicology workups of our perpetrators down here. What can you tell me about the guys making the stuff?”

  The woman replied, “Approximately twelve men. Working in shifts around the clock to make and transport the substance to a small cargo vessel. All dark-haired, olive-skinned. Ages range from early twenties to late thirties. Generally medium heights, slender builds. Minimal paramilitary training. Reasonably disciplined. Well-armed. Unfamiliar with Arctic operations. I do not have photo intelligence on them at this time.”

  This chick sounded like a Special Forces operator herself! He asked, “What’s your best guess as to their nationality?”

  No hesitation. “Middle Eastern, sir.”

  “Are we looking at a terrorist cell?”

  “That is our working assumption.”

  Jens frowned. “How much of the chemical are they making?”

  “Our current estimate of their stockpile is four hundred kilos of the powder. Blowing snow is impeding satellite imagery, however, so that number may be somewhat low.”

  Jens lurched. “Four hundred kilos? Do you realize that miniscule dosages of this stuff are enough to send people around the bend? We’re talking twenty micrograms or less!”

  Grim silence met his outburst.

  “Are you still there?” Jens asked.

  “Yes.” The woman sounded tense. “Can you tell me exactly how much of this chemical must be ingested to cause death?”

  “Our chemists don’t know yet. They think some of that may have to do with how it’s ingested. They think swallowing it or injecting it would deliver it most effectively to the blood stream.”

  “What about breathing it?” the woman blurted.

  “Now that our chemists have a large sample of it, they should be able to tell more soon. But my understanding is that it needs to reach the bloodstream directly. I should think inhaling it wouldn’t be nearly as effective.”

  “Thank God,” the woman muttered.

  “Anything else you can tell me about who’s selling this stuff?” Jens asked.

  “Given the amounts of the drug we’re seeing in production, our guess is that Oslo is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the target of this terrorist cell.”

  Jens absorbed that one for a moment. “Do you think it might be prudent to put all the police in Norway on alert?”

  “I think it might be prudent to put all the police in Europe on alert.”

  Jens swallowed hard at that one. “Any chance you can take these guys out and their drugs with them before they turn this stuff loose on Europe?”

  “We’re working on it, Detective.”

  “Thanks for the help, ma’am.”

  “No problem.” A short pause and then, “Could you do me a favor?”

  “Sure,” he replied.

  “Call me when your chemists figure out how much of this stuff will kill a person.”

  “I will.”

  Jens hung up the phone. Young Middle Eastern men. A possible terrorist cell. Hundreds of kilos of this stuff being released all over Europe?

  To nobody in particular, he breathed, “Holy shit.”

  Lakvik, Norway, March 9, 8:00 p.m.

  The Samis threw the Medusas a traditional feast that evening. As Karen understood it, the party was a send-off to wish the hunters good luck and a safe return. It was sweet of the Samis really. Especially with a big storm moving in.

  At least she’d gotten fairly good at ignoring the Samis continual bowing and scraping in her direction. If they wanted to believe she was a goddess, who was she to stop them?

  But she could’ve done without the chanted loiks and that godawful rotgut. Jack, Anders and the Medusas all declined the liquor since they were heading out later. But the locals indulged freely, and the drunken smell of it on their clothes and breath was enough to make Karen faintly ill.

  What she wouldn’t give for a hamburger and fries right about now. She was roundly sick of reindeer this and reindeer that. Didn’t these people ever get tired of the same old diet day in and day out? The reasonable side of her brain said they were probably grateful t
o have food at all. But the other part was still disgusted.

  She leaned over and murmured to Anders, “I’m getting a tad bit pissy, here. Perhaps it’s time for me to make a graceful exit.”

  He murmured back, “If it makes you feel better, I’m a little pissy myself. Let’s get out of here.”

  He said something in Sami that made the natives all roar with laughter, then he helped her to her feet. As he led her away from the fire into the darkness, she said accusingly, “You told them you’re taking me out behind a hut to have your way with me again, didn’t you?”

  He laughed. “What if I did?”

  “You rat!” she exclaimed. “What happened to the whole, ‘you shouldn’t lie to the natives’ bit?”

  “You’re absolutely right. We’d better correct that lapse on my part.” His arms swept around her and he did, indeed, pull her into the deep shadow behind a hut. His mouth closed on hers, and she couldn’t have spoken, even if they weren’t kissing.

  He came up for air and she gasped, “Where did you learn how to do that so well?”

  He laughed quietly. “Do you want me to stop doing it and answer that question?”

  “Heck, no.” She threw a hand behind his head and pulled him down to her again. “You taste awesome.”

  “Like reindeer stew?”

  “No.” She laughed. “Like fruit. Berries maybe.”

  “Ahh,” he said between light, easy kisses. “The dried lingonberries one of the Sami women gave me. Good, aren’t they?”

  She kissed him again and then licked her lips. “Mmm. Delicious.”

  He backed her up against the wall of a hut. She giggled against his neck. “I hope we’re not showering whoever’s inside with dirt.”

  “I don’t care,” he breathed, kissing her with mouth and hands and body. “I want more of you.”

  She strained into him as desperately as he did for her. She’d wanted him since she’d landed on top of him that first day.

  “God, I hate all these clothes,” he muttered against her lips.

  “That’s why there are only five million people in Norway. You all wear far too many clothes to procreate frequently.”