Monkey See, Monkey Do

by Tymber Dalton

  Chapter Eleven

  Reverend Hannibal Silo went to bed Thanksgiving night a happy man. Finally, a plan put into motion that might actually yield fruit. Unfortunately, he couldn’t get rid of Jerald yet. He still needed the man.

  Maybe if he could see this plan through to a successful completion, he could have them make Jerald their next target. But only if he was sure Jerald hadn’t left any nasty surprises around as “insurance.”

  Maybe Mary wasn’t even alive. Maybe whoever helped her got all the evidence from her up front and then killed her.

  Without knowing that for sure, he had to keep Jerald alive.

  For now.

  He’d spent the past forty years building this empire from the ground up. His sweat, his work, his energy, and his brand.

  He wasn’t about to let all that effort dissolve just because a group of men named after intoxicated primates were the pets of a general he couldn’t flip, apparently the last unimpeachable officer in the US military.

  In the late hours of that night, he heard a cell phone ring, awakening him. Once it registered in his brain which cell phone was ringing, it cleared all sleep out of his system as he answered.

  “Yes?”

  “Make it twenty-five million dollars and I can have it done this weekend,” Goldfinch said.

  Silo sat up. “Why twenty-five?”

  “You want it done, or not?”

  “Yes, but I want to know why I’m spending twenty-five million.”

  “Ten off the top for me, because to do this means I’m basically shitting where I eat and I’ll have to disappear for good. I need a nest egg of my own. But hey, if you don’t want it done, I’ll just—”

  “Fine. Do it.”

  “Once this is done, once I call the operation a go, that’s it. No turning back, no calling it off. No orders to cancel.”

  “Don’t worry, there won’t be.”

  “I’m going to order it, then burn my contact book. Because this will be a one-and-done for them, too. And it’s all on you.”

  “I get it. Let’s make it happen.”

  “The transfer better be in my offshore account in an hour, or you can forget you know me. And even if it is in my account, you can still forget you know me and it’s been good knowing you.”

  “How do I know this isn’t a scam? How do I know you won’t take my money and run?”

  “Have I ever scammed you before? This is my fucking neck on the line, here. They made me a counter-offer to my first offer. This is their last job before they retire.”

  Silo considered it. “All right.”

  “Then make the transfer, because if it’s not there, I can’t get them paid, and I have a deadline to meet on their end. Tick tock.” Goldfinch ended the call.

  That was…a lot of money.

  Money well worth it, though, to finally get something done.

  Silo knew if he left the compound at that hour, the news of his travels would likely make it to Jerald. He’d have to hope that Jerald wasn’t plugged in to every tiny detail of what he did while there at the Vermont compound.

  Getting out of bed, he retrieved a tablet he’d purchased before leaving St. Louis and connected to the Internet with it. He had a few bank accounts Jerald didn’t know about, ones offshore, for emergencies, held in reserve. Legitimate corporations not subject to taxation by the IRS, and in no way tied to him personally.

  Going through the account’s history, he found the last transfer he’d made to Goldfinch several years ago and used that account info to make this transfer.

  Just two businesses doing business. Nothing to see here.

  As his finger hovered over the final Make Transfer button, he took a deep breath. This action would absolutely get General Arliss’ attention. One didn’t just walk into the CDC research facility in Atlanta with armed men and steal medical personnel and Kite samples out from under the US government.

  He wasn’t just anyone, though.

  If Arliss thought Hannibal would simply roll over and go away, the man had a few things to learn.

  One of my first jobs as President will be to get rid of that man.

  In none of his fantasies could Hannibal envision a future where he didn’t get elected President. Probably wouldn’t be this time around, due to the logistics, but for sure with the next general election. Hell, he was still reasonably young. There were congressmen far older than he was.

  He hit the button, sending the money to Goldfinch.

  Well worth it to make my dreams reality.

  And on that note, he lay back down and fell into a deep, satisfied slumber.

  * * * *

  Bubba was wide awake and still working when his cell phone went off a little before midnight. “Yeah?”

  “Cell phone call. Burner to burner, best I can tell from the signal. Discussing twenty-five million dollars to do something by this weekend, but I don’t know what. Must have been part of their earlier sit-down discussion. The mic I placed isn’t strong enough to pick up both ends of a cell convo unless the phone’s on speaker mode. He apparently upped the amount they’d discussed earlier because he wants a ‘nest egg’ and talked about having to vanish once whatever this is goes down. I’m suspecting, based on context, that he knows he’ll be fingered.”

  Bubba leaned back in his wheelchair and tried to quiet his mind, allowing him to sift through all of that. “You still alone?”

  “Yeah. Dark’s on his way in. Had to dri— Wait…hold on.”

  Bubba drummed the fingers of his right hand against his desk as he held his cell in his left. A minute later, Kant came back on the line.

  “Okay, this guy just placed another call, burner to burner, different person. Whatever is happening is a go.”

  “But we don’t know what yet, or where?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Dammit.”

  “Orders?”

  “I’m thinking.”

  Arliss had given him carte blanche in terms of support. Until the Drunk Monkeys were no longer needed guarding the scientists, Bubba had to work behind the scenes as much as possible to derail Silo’s plans.

  “What’s Dark’s ETA?”

  “Two hours at the latest.”

  “Sit tight. Wait until you two are together to take him down. Then find out from his own mouth what’s going on with Silo.”

  “What if he runs before then?”

  “Stop him.”

  “Extreme prejudice?”

  “Yes, regardless of when you engage. Try to keep him alive long enough to question him, but don’t get hurt.”

  “Roger roger.”

  “Oh, and Kant?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Have fun.”

  His old friend laughed. “That’s a given, buddy.” He ended the call.

  Bubba stared at the burner. Goldfinch was an unknown in many ways. While he’d expected the man to have a little bit of mud on him—no CIA operative in as long as Goldfinch had been was completely clean—that he was tied to Silo disconcerted Bubba. Nowhere in the church’s computer records that they’d pulled so far did anything tie Goldfinch to Silo.

  None of the offshore accounts they’d tracked and seized were linked to Goldfinch, either.

  He didn’t like being blind when it came to intel. Especially considering the high-value targets they were protecting right now.

  It was tempting to mount his own backdoor operation to take down Silo himself. Nowhere had he found anything indicating Silo had a Kite virus fail-safe in place. If anything, it would seem that potential Kite projects Silo had lined up had been mothballed.

  Most interesting was the fact that, more and more, he was seeing Jerald Arbeid’s initials on the various orders coming through the church’s official pipeline.

  As if he were doing things behind Silo’s back.

  It was telling that Silo had travelled to Vermont without Arbeid. Usually the guy was glued to Silo’s ass like a horny male dog after a bitch in heat.

  But not
this trip.

  And on this trip, Silo had met with someone, alone.

  Interesting.

  He headed to the kitchen to start another pot of coffee. Tonight looked to possibly be a long night.

  Hopefully, it’d be a productive one.

  * * * *

  Ax lay on the couch Thanksgiving night and stared at the ceiling in the darkened apartment. Kali was asleep in the bedroom.

  He still couldn’t believe he was finally here, with her.

  After they’d returned to her apartment, she’d told him her plans after swearing him to secrecy.

  She wanted to kill Hannibal Silo.

  The plan she’d laid out would work, with his help. Now that he was so close to obtaining the vengeance he’d desired for so many years, he wasn’t sure how to go about making good on those secret oaths to his parents’ memory.

  Kali said that Silo would be living in the St. Louis compound for the immediate future. That had been the plan her husband had formulated with Jerald. So they’d have to travel to St. Louis.

  Hacking into the church’s computer system was a given, because they already were inside it. Meaning he could easily create ID badges for them that would get them full compound access, even to secure areas.

  Kali had agreed to wait to enact their plans until the government announced that a workable vaccine for Kite had been developed. Meaning they had a few weeks. She wanted to leave Atlanta before the first of December and return to St. Louis. Preferably as soon as that weekend, with heavier holiday travel traffic to help them blend in.

  She also didn’t want him reporting this to the Drunk Monkeys. Which he’d agreed to, even though it didn’t set well with him.

  Just because he knew how to shoot a gun didn’t mean he was now a deadly weapon. He’d never shot at a human being before. He didn’t want to screw up and be the reason something happened to Kali.

  Mom.

  He didn’t need to be a shrink to know he’d adopted her, and why. The two of them, bound by the evil incarnate that was Hannibal Silo. Of course he got it.

  The world would be a far better place without Hannibal Silo in it. And since he couldn’t go back and change the past, all he could do was help ensure the future played out better than it would if Silo was allowed to remain among the living. Not like any damn court in the country would convict him even if he was arrested. Between his top-level friends and the circumstances, he was doing the world a public service.

  Chickening out wasn’t an option. Neither was failure.

  What he would do once Hannibal Silo was no longer in the world remained to be seen.

  Unable to sleep, he got his computer and checked to see if Tank was online. She hadn’t sent him any new messages that day.

  Maybe that could be his next step, offering Tank and her group refuge within the church once Kali had taken it over. Sanctuary. Surely Kali would help him hide them while they worked to do what Arliss wanted done anyway, mainly throwing a massive monkey wrench into things and causing a disturbance that would keep people off the general’s tail. Arliss was in the process of cleaning house on a national scale. How far up he planned to go, Ax didn’t know.

  At least the man appeared to be altruistic. Arliss didn’t like people fucking with the government or Constitution and was trying to get the world back on track. He wasn’t looking to institute some new world order, or create a dictatorship.

  Ax could get behind that.

  He sent Tank’s group a MacCoin donation, following that up with a message to her.

  Hope you’re safe and well. Pls send me an update.

  He shut down his laptop. They were a group of college kids, and this was some scary shit they were dealing with. He’d asked Bubba about it, about trying to get them in from the cold, and the man had replied with a cryptically noncommittal response that Arliss was aware of them, but they weren’t a priority at that time.

  The deaths of Scooter’s friends still weighed heavily on Ax’s mind. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been the one to torture and kill them, and hadn’t deliberately led Silo’s men to them.

  It was still on his head.

  He didn’t want any other deaths on his conscience.

  Maybe when we get to St. Louis and get settled I can talk Tank and her group into joining us. Get them to safety.

  It was the best he could do for now.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next morning, it was still dark outside when Leta awoke before the two men. She dressed, including pulling on a sweater against the chilly morning, made her way to the bathroom to use the toilet, then followed the delicious aroma of coffee to the kitchen.

  She paused as she stared down the hallway that led to the lab area. They’d given her a quick tour of the entire facility yesterday before feeding her the best Thanksgiving feast she’d had in her life.

  The sight of the lab had sent chills through her as she’d looked through a window in the door and watched the people in full protective gear working inside. Dr. Riley Perkins, Dr. Max Copper, Dr. Peter McInnis, and Dr. Ivan Ivlonsky, along with Doc and Tango.

  Dr. Julie Chu, Dr. Phe Quong, and Dr. Rajesh Patel were up in Atlanta, along with Clara, the nurse.

  This morning, those same chills washed through her again, even as she stood at the end of the hallway, unable to see inside the lab proper from her vantage point.

  Just a couple of walls, several layers of heavy-gauge plastic sheeting and duct tape, and glass sample cases separated her and the rest of the human race from the deadliest pathogen the world had ever known.

  And she was willingly throwing her hat in with people hiding and helping the creators of the same-said virus.

  I must be crazy.

  She was no hero. Yet here she was, not even knowing all the facts and ready to throw her hat into the ring with Uncle and Zed all for…reasons?

  Sexy reasons?

  Maybe not even the right reasons. Maybe, now with some sleep and second thoughts under her belt, this wasn’t the soundest plan ever concocted.

  Coffee. I really need coffee.

  She made her way to the kitchen. One of the women stood there, sipping a mug of coffee.

  The redhead smiled at Leta over the top of the mug. “Welcome to the family.”

  Leta struggled to remember her name. “Pan…da?”

  “Close.” She held out a hand to shake with her. “Pandora. Panda’s our pilot. I don’t think Papa was thinking when he nicknamed her. The big Zeus cargo plane she flies for us was called the Punchy Panda.”

  “Ah.”

  Pandora pointed to the mugs and coffee fixings. “Help yourself. We all wash our own dishes, so there’s no mess. Just put everything back where you found it when you’re done, please.”

  “You’ve been with the group for how long now?”

  “Since March. I flew from Chicago to Australia just to get hauled to Florida via Hawaii, Mexico, LA, and Seattle.” She grinned. “And it’s been a crazy ride. I was the first woman to join the Drunk Monkeys.”

  “Wait. Your two guys are the medics, right?”

  Pandora’s smile faded. “Yeah. Lucky me.” She stared into her mug for a minute. “Fortunately, it looks like we’re almost at the end of this mess. Between the strain Doc caught in LA, and the strain Victor caught a few weeks back, it really helped them figure this shit out. Well, that and getting Mama and Waldo in from the cold, among others.”

  Pandora looked over as a man walked in. “Oh, pardon me, ladies,” he said with an Irish accent.

  “Sin,” Pandora said, “you didn’t really get to meet her yesterday, but this is Snarky.”

  “Ah, yes. The doctor.” He reached out a hand to shake with her, and she had to force herself to do it. “Dr. Peter McInnis, aka Sin.”

  He was one of the reasons the world was dying in the first place. It was hard not to want to deck the guy regardless of why he’d participated.

  “Good to have another doctor on board.” He poured himself a mug of coffee and
started drinking it black. “I’m afraid our work has taken over most of Doc and Tango’s time.”

  “Are you really close to a vaccine?” Leta asked.

  “I believe so, yes. Mama, Waldo, Q, and Clara are supposed to report the latest test runs this morning.” He offered her a sad, lopsided smile. “I can see that you’re not exactly happy to meet me. Can’t say that I blame you. Very common reaction.”

  Heat filled her face. “Sorry. I don’t know the whole story. I know I shouldn’t make a snap judgment. The guys said you all were forced into it.”

  He leaned back against the counter. “We were, but could I do it all over again, I think I would have tried harder to disable the program sooner. Commit anarchy from within.” He focused on the contents of his mug. “I’m not proud of what we did. It wouldn’t surprise me if we stand trial. I shall not appeal a conviction, either.”

  “Where are the rest of your team? The missing scientists?”

  He shrugged and finally met her gaze again. “That’s the puzzle, isn’t it? I went to Brazil hoping to locate Chris. Dr. Christopher Ramsey,” he added. “He is from there. But I couldn’t locate him and ended up having to leave for Mexico, where the team found me. We think he’s alive, but it’s been a couple of weeks since Bubba was last able to get any kind of intel about him.”

  “Who is this Bubba guy I keep hearing about?” Leta asked.

  “Our guardian angel,” Pandora said with a smile. “My friend, boss, and someone who turns out was military intel. Formerly retired and now not so retired.”

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Sin said, “I want to grab a shower before our morning video conference and I head into the lab. Doctor, it was very nice meeting you.” He seemed to almost slink out of the room.

  “So that’s one of them, huh?” Leta quietly asked.

  “Yeah, and I know exactly what you’re thinking right now.” Leta looked at Pandora, who continued. “You want to reach down his throat and yank his balls off from the inside out.”

  “Yeah.”

  “As you get to know them, you’ll understand there’s more to the story. They weren’t willing conspirators.”