World Order

by David Archer

  Litchfield turned and looked him in the eye, but said nothing for almost five seconds. “In that case,” he said, “I feel pretty certain that you’re dealing with the results of Branigan’s Cocktail.”

  * * *

  Noah tabled the discussion until they finished eating, then went back to the OC. When they were gathered in the operations room, Noah sent Neil to fetch Doctor Emerson. The doctor was fascinated at what Litchfield had to say, and willingly described the physiological changes he had found in Lieutenant Belcher.

  “What about the other bodies?” Noah asked.

  “They were completely normal,” Emerson said. “Bear in mind that those were bodies of soldiers who were killed while trying to get close to the compound, so they weren’t subjected to whatever happened to Lieutenant Belcher.”

  Noah invited Litchfield to go ahead with his presentation, and the man opened a briefcase and took out a small black box that he handed to Neil.

  “Can you put that on your big monitor?” he asked.

  Neil connected the external hard drive to his computer and tapped a few keys. “Which part?” he asked. “You’ve got an awful lot of stuff on here.”

  “Look for a file titled ‘Titan 1.’ It’s a video file, something I want you all to see.”

  Neil looked at the list and then tapped the keyboard once again. A second later, the big wall display came to life and they all gathered around.

  The first image that appeared was of a small capuchin monkey being held by a young woman. It was playfully patting the woman’s face while drinking from a baby bottle. That clip ended and was quickly replaced with a video that showed a much larger monkey. This one was grotesquely misshapen, however, with long lower legs and much longer arms. It’s fingers were surprisingly big, and tipped with vicious looking claws.

  “Despite appearances,” Litchfield said, “that’s the same monkey you saw in the first clip. Her name is Dorothy, and she was an experimental subject of Doctor Branigan’s. The changes you see took place over about five months. She’s much stronger than any other monkey her size, and those legs give her the ability to leap more than thirty feet in a single bound. She got loose once, and it took twenty of us almost six hours to catch her. Unfortunately, she killed two of my men when they got too close.”

  On the screen, the terribly altered Dorothy picked up a concrete block and threw it at whoever was holding the camera. Fortunately, there was shatterproof glass between them, because the block disintegrated when it hit the glass.

  “Before the experiment, Dorothy was one of the sweetest, cuddliest little critters I’d ever seen. Unfortunately, the same genetic manipulation that creates the physiological changes also caused some mental aberrations. She became angry and violent, and the only way to control her is with drugs that keep her mellow and lethargic. Without them, she’s constantly angry and combative. They had to separate her from all the other monkeys because she began killing them, apparently just for sport.”

  Doctor Emerson stared at the screen, then turned to Litchfield. “And this is the same kind of thing you think is being used on people down here?” he asked.

  “Based on what you’ve told me, I would say it’s pretty certain.”

  Emerson turned back to the screen, which Neil had paused. Dorothy’s face was frozen in its center, and Emerson leaned close.

  “The face is different, as well,” he said. “It’s longer, and the eyes are much larger, almost almond shaped.”

  “That’s correct,” Litchfield said. “The eyes are much more sensitive, and Dorothy can see in the dark better than any other monkey. You’ll notice that her face is also thinner, and her jaw has elongated so that her chin almost comes to a point.”

  The screen suddenly split as Neil took the image Wilson had shown them the day before and put it beside the picture of Dorothy. The one grainy frame they had gotten of the creature that attacked Lieutenant Jorgensen appeared, and Marco let out a low whistle.

  “Except for the fur,” he said, “it almost looks the same.”

  “What is that?” Litchfield asked.

  “That is the creature that attacked and killed some soldiers,” Noah said. “The one I told you about that was so fast the camera couldn’t quite catch it. That’s the best image we could get out of the footage.”

  Litchfield shook his head. “Damn, I’d love to see that thing in person. It looks to me like Branigan’s taken his work a little farther. If they’ve managed to create human hybrids with this stuff, we’re probably talking about damn near invincible fighters. Dorothy is only eighteen inches tall and she managed to kill two men bigger than me with her hands and claws. I’d hate to think what a fully grown man could do with those enhancements.”

  “Enhancements?” Emerson asked, turning to stare at him in shock. “Those are not enhancements, young man, those are aberrations! Any man given this treatment is no longer human at all.”

  Litchfield held up a placating hand. “I don’t disagree, Doctor,” he said. “All I’m saying is that I would much rather be on the side that was controlling that thing, rather than the one that had to try to bring it down.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s the side you’re on,” Noah said. “Whatever this thing is, we have to put an end to it. We also have to put a stop to whoever is trying to create these things.”

  “I know, and that’s why I’m here,” Litchfield said. “All modesty aside, I’m as close as you’re going to get to an expert. After Branigan disappeared, I studied his work thoroughly. Dorothy is only one of his experiments. Neil, bring up ‘Titan 2.’ This is—or was—a German Shepherd named Rex. Take a look.”

  The creature that appeared on the screen bore very little resemblance to a dog. Instead, it looked as if someone had taken a grizzly bear and put it on an extreme diet. The rear legs were much longer than they should have been, and its forelegs were more like arms. The creature could stand erect on the back legs and towered nearly 7 feet tall. Like Dorothy, its face had undergone changes that made it look unearthly, with a long, thin snout and large, almond-shaped eyes.

  “Rex was a very well trained animal,” Litchfield said. “He was one of the smartest dogs they had down there, but after Branigan’s Cocktail got done with him, he was probably as intelligent as any fifteen-year-old. Notice his front paws, how the digits have become longer and more manipulable. It isn’t quite a hand, but he can certainly use those fingers when he wants to. I saw him reach through the bars of his cage and grab hold of the man who was trying to feed him. We had to shoot Rex almost fifteen times before he let go.”

  SEVEN

  “You killed him?” Sarah gasped. “But this wasn’t his fault.”

  “No,” Litchfield said. “No, it wasn’t his fault, and no, we did not kill him. He went down, but six hours later, he was up again and acting like nothing happened. The wounds were completely closed up and he is still alive today.”

  “And he’s as vicious as Dorothy?”

  Litchfield shook his head. “No, not usually. After he attacked the guy who was feeding him, we went back and checked security videos. Turns out that fellow had been tormenting the poor thing. By the way, he paid for it; Rex did so much damage to his arm that it ended up being amputated. With most people, he’s pretty well-behaved. I’ve spent time with him and never had a problem, and he doesn’t seem to hold a grudge against any of us who shot him that day.”

  “If he isn’t vicious, then did he get the same treatment that Dorothy did?” Renée asked.

  “According to Branigan’s notes, yes. The difference seems to be in his intelligence level. Rex, strangely enough, seems to understand the difference between right and wrong to some degree. Keep watching.”

  They turned back to watch the monitor, and a moment later they saw a man come into view. This man walked up to the large cage Rex was in and opened the door. The animal walked out on all fours, then stood up and put its forearms around the man in what appeared to be a hug. It let go a moment later and dropped back t
o all fours, then walked along with the man as the camera followed. They went through a door to a fenced enclosure that was outside and the man produced a ball. He tossed the ball across the ground and Rex spring after it like a rocket. He caught the ball in his paws, then turned and ran back on his rear legs to give it back to the man.

  “Rex likes to play, as you can see,” Litchfield said. “He also seems to understand a lot of English words. It’s possible that hybrids like him may one day find their way into military service. He’s demonstrated that he can still track as well as any dog, and he’s hit more than fifty miles an hour in a four-legged run. If he were trained for combat or espionage purposes, he could be quite an asset in the field.”

  “Are there others like him?” Noah asked.

  Litchfield nodded. “More than a dozen,” he said. “All of them display similar intelligence, and they all seem to be friendly unless provoked.” He turned to Neil. “Try ‘Titan 3,’ please.”

  Neil did so, and Rex was replaced with an entirely different creature.

  “That’s Grumpy. Grumpy was an alley cat, and he’s the only one of his kind. He’s got most of the same physiological changes, as you can see, but Grumpy is more intelligent than the dogs by an incredible margin. He’s kept inside that shatterproof glass cage because he hates humans with a passion. Doesn’t matter who, either. The behavioral animal psychologists theorize that he understands what’s been done to him and really wants to pay somebody back for it. ‘Titan 4,’ please.”

  The image changed to show a large bird, but this wasn’t anything like an ostrich. It didn’t look like anything but a large crow, until they noticed the dead cow it was feeding on. The bird looked nearly as big as the cow, and was ripping the carcass apart easily. Sarah and Renée looked away, disgusted, but the others only watched as it tore off a foreleg and swallowed it whole.

  “This is Kaiser. Other than growing to more than four times his normal size, he’s a common raven. He stands five feet, eight inches tall and can reach an object up to seven and a half feet off the ground with his beak. His wingspan reaches almost eighteen feet. He weighs just over three hundred pounds and his breast muscles are strong enough that he can fly even farther than his normal sized brothers. He eats almost four hundred pounds of carrion per day, and he is as smart as some of the scientists who work with him. Crows and ravens can talk as well as most parrots, you all know that, right? Well, Kaiser has a vocabulary of about twenty thousand words, and he knows exactly what he’s saying. I’ve had some interesting conversations with him.”

  “With a raven?” Marco asked, incredulous. “Does he say ‘nevermore’ a lot?”

  Litchfield smiled. “Actually, he can recite that entire poem. One of his handlers read it to him once, and he insisted on hearing it again until he could say it perfectly. No, he likes to talk about humans and our affinity for war and destruction. He thinks we spend too much time worrying about inconsequential things, rather than just enjoying life.”

  Emerson grunted. “Sounds like a bloody genius,” he muttered, and it earned him a round of chuckles.

  “Kaiser was the first of a dozen ravens who were subjected to the cocktail, and he has helped to raise and train the rest of them. After watching a video of fighter jets flying in formation, he insisted on teaching the others to fly in formation with him. Of course, they only get fly at night, because we don’t need rumors of giant birds flying around, but that led to Kaiser deciding that he and his fellows could become useful. He suggested we fit all of them with video cameras that can transmit images back via satellite, and his squadron has proven incredibly skilled at getting aerial imagery wherever we send them. The idea is that they can one day be used for aerial surveillance and espionage.”

  “I thought you said he was against war?” Sarah asked. “Why would he volunteer to help us?”

  Litchfield shook his head. “He isn’t against the concept of war, he just doesn’t understand our reasons for it. On the other hand, he’s smart enough to know that experimental animals like him must have a purpose if they are to survive. He and the other ravens are willing to serve in this capacity in return for our making sure they get the things they want. Nesting material, plenty of carrion to eat, and they each have their own video monitor with Internet access.” He grinned. “They spend a lot of time on YouTube and Netflix.”

  “Too bad you couldn’t bring them along,” Neil said. “They might actually get close enough to the compound to figure out what’s really going on.”

  Litchfield shrugged. “I actually tried,” he said, “but as all of these are still considered some of the biggest secrets we have to keep, permission to bring even one of them was denied. I’m afraid we have to do things the human way.”

  Allison’s phone rang suddenly, and she answered it quietly. She listened to whoever was on the other end of the line, said, “All right, we’re on it,” and then hung up. She turned to Noah.

  “Another body just turned up,” she said. “This one was found in a dumpster behind the base mess hall.”

  None of them had to be told to get on it. They grabbed their gear and followed Noah out the door, with Litchfield falling in behind them

  * * *

  It wasn't difficult to spot the crime scene; all they had to do was look for the crowd of soldiers who were standing around, staring at the dumpster. A squad of MPs was trying to keep the crowd back, but the team still had to shove their way through.

  "Let’s get busy," Noah said then. "Litchfield, see if you can find any witnesses and talk to them. Somebody must’ve seen something."

  "On it," Litchfield replied with a nod, and he turned on his heel.

  "Jenny, Marco, start looking over the scene. Neil, get your camera and start taking photos."

  All three nodded as they set to their tasks. Noah headed in the direction of the body, which was covered in garbage and sticking out of an overturned dumpster. A lone MP was standing guard over it.

  “Noah Wolf, FBI,” he said, flashing his ID. “What can you tell me about this?”

  “Sir, I was notified that the body had been found by one of the kitchen helpers,” the soldier said, “so I’ve just been standing here to make sure nobody disturbs anything. I’m Sergeant Mitchell; my CO said you would be taking charge of the investigation, but we are certainly ready to help any way we can.”

  Noah looked down at the body. “How did the dumpster get turned over?”

  “It was the kitchen helper,” Mitchell said. “He had climbed up on something to toss trash inside and saw this fellow laying on the garbage. I guess he panicked and leaned backward, and actually dragged the dumpster over. He’s lucky it didn’t land on him.”

  Noah nodded. “Any idea who we have here?”

  “Yes, sir,” Mitchell said. “Dogtags identify him as Private David Latham. I called it in and found out that he’s assigned to the IT maintenance shop, computer repairman.”

  Noah turned and looked at Sarah, who was standing beside him. “Find out if Private Latham worked with Specialist McRae. If he did, this could be connected to McRae’s abduction.”

  Sarah nodded and took out her phone, then stepped away so she could make her call privately.

  Doctor Emerson, ignoring the filth, knelt down beside the body. He looked it over for a moment, then pointed at a single hole in the man’s shirt. “This looks like a large caliber wound. Jorge, let’s roll him over to check for an exit wound.”

  Jorge, who was assisting Doctor Emerson, knelt down beside him and took hold of the victim’s shoulder. He rolled the body upward far enough to look at his back, then looked up at Emerson. “There isn’t one,” he said. “The bullet is probably still in there.” He laid the body down again and started looking closely at the wounds.

  Noah nodded, still looking at the body closely. "There's no pool of blood."

  "It’s possible the body was moved here after the shooting," Jorge suggested.

  "Or there could be another reason, which we will undoubtedly de
termine during the autopsy," Emerson said. “Let’s get him loaded up and back to operations.”

  "I’ll see you there, Doc," Noah replied and then headed towards Sarah. She hung up the phone as he approached.

  "The victim was Private David Latham,” she said. “He was twenty-two, recently assigned here from Fort Huachuca in Arizona. He lived alone in a small apartment that was assigned to him. He didn’t have a lot of friends, but it turns out he and McRae were pretty close. They worked out together, lifting weights, and they were into computer games, one of those online multiplayer games. I guess they were on the same team, because a lot of their coworkers heard them talking about the things they did when they were playing."

  “Computer games? Any idea which one?”

  “Several different ones. Most recently, they were talking about one called, ‘Lethal Rage.’ According to his shift commander, it has something to do with fighting zombies.” She rolled her eyes.

  Noah nodded. “Let’s see what the rest of them are learning.”

  * * *

  Neil focused the lens and then took another photo before moving on. It wasn’t easy because he had to move through the pile of trash, doing his best to avoid getting any of the filth on himself.

  "Ugh," Marco said, his face distorted in an expression of disgust. "They could have left the body somewhere else!"

  "You got any particular place in mind?" Jenny asked, looking closely at the wheels of the dumpster.

  "Just about anywhere else,” Marco said. “This place stinks.”

  “There’s always a smelly dumpster behind a place that prepares a lot of food.”

  "Got anything?" Noah asked as he and Sarah approached them.

  “It would help if we had some idea what we might be looking for,” Jenny said. “It looks to me like somebody shot the guy somewhere else, then tossed him into the dumpster.”