by John J. Rust
Ehrenberg looked stunned. “Admiral, my team has valuable knowledge that can help you find the Point Pleasant Monster.”
“If we need your advice, you’re just a phone call away. Besides, you saw for yourself that our cutters aren’t big enough to accommodate many guests.”
Rastun mulled over Timmins’ explanation. Was he telling the truth, or was it an excuse to not have the scientists on board in case they tried to prevent the Coast Guard from killing the monster?
Rastun got out of his chair and stood at attention as Timmins walked by. He then forced himself to relax, reminding himself he was a civilian.
Old habits die hard.
“So what are we supposed to do now?” asked Geek as everyone filed out of the conference room.
Ehrenberg put his hands on his hips and stared at the floor, thinking. “Maybe we can do some more searches on land. Who knows, we might get lucky.”
“Well, it beats sitting in a hotel room doing nothing for the next two days,” said Karen.
“But no splitting up,” Rastun told everyone. “Wherever we go, we all go together. Also, Geek, we load the Aster Sevens with toxin darts only.”
“You got it, Cap’n.”
“You people disgust me!” Malakov stomped down the hallway of the administration building of Coast Guard Station Barnegat Light.
“Hopefully she’ll keep walking right into the ocean,” Geek muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Rastun to hear.
“Give her some space,” Ehrenberg suggested. “She’ll calm down soon.”
Rastun stifled a grunt. Yeah, and tomorrow I’ll wake up a Dallas Cowboys fan.
“Meantime,” Ehrenberg continued. “Let’s get some hotel rooms, look at some maps and figure out where we should search.”
“It’d help if we had some wheels,” Geek pointed out. “But my car and the Cap’n’s car are still back at Point Pleasant.”
“I’m sure we can get the Coasties to give us a ride up there,” said Rastun.
“Hey, you saved one of their guys,” Geek noted. “They might even buy us lunch on the way.”
Ehrenberg nodded. “You two get on it. We’ll get set up at the hotel.”
Rastun and Geek headed back down the corridor to the base commander’s office while the others made for the exit. As they turned toward a stairwell, Rastun’s cell went off. He checked the screen.
“It’s Sherlock.”
“With good news, I hope,” said Geek.
Rastun put the phone to his ear. “Go, Sherlock.”
“The lab just finished examining the blanks from Geek’s shotgun and the darts from your gun.”
“What did you find?” Rastun walked back to the conference room, Geek following.
“Some partial prints that belong to you and Geek.”
“Just us, huh?”
“Just you two.”
“Damn.” Rastun put his cell phone on speaker and placed in on the table.
“No prints on the shells or the darts except ours,” Rastun told Geek as he closed the door. “What about the dart? They had to replace the toxin with something.”
“They did,” Sherlock replied. “It was a simple intravenous solution. Amino acids, vitamins, that sort of thing. I also checked the footage from the security cameras where Bold Fortune was docked.”
“And?”
“Nothing. Someone put covers over them for about fifteen minutes, then removed them. When the cameras were uncovered, they made sure to stay in their blind spots.”
“Sounds like we’re dealing with pros,” said Geek.
“What about our mole?” asked Rastun. “Are you any closer to finding out who it is?”
“Sorry, sir. I’m still digging.”
“All right. Well, for now we’re stuck on land.”
“Why’s that?”
“The Coast Guard won’t let us back on the Vigorous,” Rastun answered. “The mission parameters have changed. We’re not trying to capture the monster any more. If we find it, we kill it. I think the district CO was afraid someone from the expedition might do something to sabotage them. Probably a good thing, considering we still don’t know who the mole is.”
“We’ll find him, sir,” said Sherlock. “Or her.”
Rastun nodded. That her could only be Malakov.
“There’s one other thing,” Sherlock added.
“What’s that?”
“I read over your after-action reports from the attacks on the boardwalk and Bold Fortune. Something piqued my curiosity.”
“And that would be…?”
“On the boardwalk, the monster smashed through the window of a pizza parlor to get at you and Karen. Then on Bold Fortune, you said it was only a few feet away from you, but instead went after Karen on the other side of the boat. ”
“That’s right.”
“You’re the animal expert,” said Sherlock. “Are animals always that determined in catching their prey?”
“Hell yeah. Out in the wild it’s a matter of life or death.” Rastun’s brow furrowed. “Still …”
“What is it?”
“Predators usually go for the easy kill. The youngest, the slowest or the weakest. Chasing down an animal burns a lot of energy. They can’t afford to do it for long. Plus if you have an animal that can fight back, like a sable antelope when it’s confronted by a lion, the predator can be injured, even killed. It usually won’t risk a fight. Wounded predators don’t survive very long.”
“But you put up two serious fights with the Point Pleasant Monster,” Sherlock pointed out.
“Yeah, I did, and the more I look back on it, the more it should’ve retreated earlier.”
“But it didn’t. Can you think of anything that would make an animal go after someone for so long?”
“Blood, for one, but neither me nor Karen had any open wounds. Some animals are attracted to bright colors or shiny objects. Maybe it smelled the meal Karen ate, or something in her shampoo or deodorant or sunscreen. Even so, to hone in on her to that extent, I don’t know.”
“Then what would make an animal go after someone to that extent?”
“There’s only one thing I can think of, but I don’t think it’s likely.”
“Why?”
Rastun explained his reason.
Sherlock paused. “Do me a favor, Captain. Get some samples of Karen’s toiletries. Everything she uses. Put them in plastic freezer bags and label them. Call me when you’re ready and I’ll pick them up.”
“All right. I still think it’s pretty far-fetched.”
“Maybe it is, but we should still look into it, just in case.”
Rastun nodded. “Okay. I’ll get your samples ASAP.”
“Thank you, sir. Meanwhile, I’m going to check out Bold Fortune.”
“There’s not much to check out,” said Geek. “The monster pretty much wrecked it.”
“Topside, yes. Not below deck. The storeroom is still intact. Maybe I can lift some prints off the weapons locked.”
“All right. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have the samples.”
With that, Sherlock hung up.
Rastun picked up his cell phone and exited the conference room, his lips pressed together in a thin line. They were still no closer to learning the identity of the mole. He also didn’t expect anything to come of Sherlock’s examination of Karen’s toiletries. How could it?
But if it does… Rastun slowed his pace. If it actually did pan out, the implications would be staggering.
He pushed open the glass door and stepped outside. Less than twenty feet away, Malakov stood near a flagpole, cell phone to her ear.
She turned to Rastun. He continued walking, but didn’t take his eyes off her. He fully expected her to break from her conversation and say something derogatory to him and Geek.
Instead, Malakov grinned at him. A decidedly wicked grin.
What the hell is that about?
TWENTY-SEVEN
Despite their short time together, Rastun alrea
dy knew one thing about Karen.
She was a sound sleeper.
It was just before 1130, when he knew for certain she was asleep, that he slipped out of bed and stepped softly across the floor of their hotel room. Karen didn’t stir at all.
Rastun went into his duffle bag and pulled out a handful of plastic freezer bags, a roll of masking tape and a black Sharpie he got on the return drive from Point Pleasant. He started with Karen’s bathroom kit, pulling out a plastic bottle of hairspray. Rastun unscrewed the cap, poured some of the contents into a bag and sealed it. He put the cap back on the bottle, returned it to the kit and put a piece of masking tape on the bag. He wrote on it, Hair spray. Karen Thatcher. The process continued with deodorant, sunscreen, mouthwash, nail polish, shampoo. Before long, he had well over a dozen bags of toiletry samples.
Rastun got dressed and tread lightly to the door. He opened it slowly and looked back at Karen. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful, just sleeping in their bed.
He smiled and closed the door. They’d known each other for barely three weeks, but so much had happened in those three weeks. Rastun had saved Karen’s life twice, and she had done the same for him. He knew first-hand from his time in Iraq and Afghanistan when one person saves the life of another, a deep, special bond forms between them.
How deep and special was that bond when the person who saved you was the woman you…
Is it too soon to think that way?
He shook off the thought and pulled out his cell phone. It took three rings before Sherlock picked up.
“I got the samples,” Rastun told him.
“Good,” Sherlock replied in a groggy voice. Rastun figured the call had woke him up. “Where can we meet?”
“There’s a little office complex a block north of my hotel.”
“All right. I’ll be there in ten.”
Rastun strode across the parking lot, checking around. Nearly all the windows of the two-story hotel were dark. Either folks had already gone to bed or the rooms were unoccupied. Definitely more of the latter, given the parking lot was only a quarter full.
Man-eating sea monsters tended to be bad for business.
It took a few minutes to reach the office complex, which contained five business spaces, two of them vacant. Rastun picked out a shadowy spot between a lawyer’s office and chiropractor’s place and pressed his back against the wall. Not only did he have a clear view of the parking lot, he also couldn’t be taken from behind. Rastun wondered if he was being overly paranoid.
A little paranoia can keep you alive.
There was a mole in their expedition, working for some unknown person or group. He had every right to feel paranoid.
A car pulled into the parking lot. Rastun’s hand hovered by his holster, then relaxed when he realized the car belonged to Sherlock.
The deputy marshal pulled alongside the walkway. Rastun went up to the open passenger side window.
“Here you go.” He handed Sherlock the bags.
“Thanks. I’ll do a midnight run to Washington and get this checked out.”
“Good. Did you get anything from Bold Fortune?”
“I found some prints on the weapons locker. I still have to run them through the system.”
“How did you get onboard?” asked Rastun. “The boat’s still tied up at the Coast Guard station.”
“You can thank Colonel Lipeli for that. He set me up with credentials so it looked like I was an insurance adjuster for the FUBI.”
“Good ol’ Lip.” Rastun patted the roof of the car. “Let me know if you turn up anything.”
“You’ll be the first. Good night, sir.”
Sherlock drove off. If there was anything to be found in those toiletries, Rastun wouldn’t just be surprised.
He’d be floored.
***
Karen was still asleep when Rastun returned to their room, and remained that way when he crawled into bed. He closed his eyes and was asleep in less than a minute.
Music blared in his ears. Something from the Motown era. “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell. Rastun looked at the radio alarm clock. 5:15. He reached over, silenced the alarm and sprang out of bed.
Karen, as usual, shifted under the covers and mumbled something incoherent.
When she finally got out of bed, they did their calisthenics, went on a run and came back to the hotel to shower. While waiting for Karen to finish in the bathroom, Rastun turned on the TV to FOX News. They were midway through a story about more controversy surrounding a bill in Congress regarding immigration reform. The next story dealt with the arrest of an Oklahoma man who kidnapped and murdered two teenage sisters.
There’s a guy who needs killing.
The third story started by showing a group of protestors. Rastun’s eyes widened when he saw the location.
Barnegat Light, NJ.
“Three dozen people gathered outside the Coast Guard station in Barnegat Light, New Jersey this morning to protest the Coast Guard’s decision to kill the Point Pleasant Monster,” said the female anchor off-screen. “Admiral Gerad Timmins, commander of the Coast Guard’s Fifth District, said the creature represents a grave danger to people both in the water and on shore, adding, quote, ‘We have no choice but to destroy this animal in order to prevent further loss of life,’ end quote. Many animal rights activists say the Point Pleasant Monster is a unique animal that must be protected at all costs.”
Rastun groaned. He hoped those crazies didn’t give the expedition any trouble. He had enough shit to deal with.
After breakfast, the group piled into Rastun’s car and Geek’s Escalade, both retrieved from Point Pleasant yesterday. Montebello stayed behind to monitor the Coast Guard frequencies in case they sighted the monster.
Traffic was pretty thick. Typical for the weekday morning commute in the Mid-Atlantic States. Rastun checked his mirrors more than usual. Dozens of vehicles flowed around him. None looked suspicious. Not that he’d be able to tell. The Rangers taught him a long list of skills. Being able to spot a tail in traffic wasn’t one of them. Not much use for it on the battlefield.
He remembered a term from some Cold War spy documentary he saw years ago. “Dry cleaning.” Driving a circuitous route to determine whether or not you were being followed. It seemed like a good idea. But how would he explain it to the rest of the expedition, including the mole, without making them suspicious?
Rastun stuck with the route programmed into the GPS. Route 72 to Route 9, then south to the salt marshes around Little Egg Harbor. He and Geek parked near a creekside boat dock. As they broke out their gear, Rastun looked around at the thick grass, shrubs, trees and small ponds. A brief smile traced his lips. This was the sort of environment he’d trained in as a Ranger.
If someone tailed them here, he’d know it.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Too easy.
Piet stared through his binoculars at Rastun and the rest of the FUBI group as they hiked through the marsh. He and Doern had followed them all the way from Barnegat Light without any problem. Rastun and his friend from Aster Technologies did no “dry cleaning.” They just took the most direct route, no unexpected turns, no circling back. Nothing.
Even here in this marsh, Rastun hadn’t spotted him or Doern. Their green, grass-covered ghillie suits blended in perfectly with the terrain.
“I wonder if this is just a waste of time,” Doern whispered. “That beastie’s got to be in the ocean, not here.”
“Our contact says the FUBI still thinks it’s possible the monster lives on land and hunts in the water, like a croc or an alligator. They’re the experts, it makes sense to shadow them.”
Still, Piet couldn’t help but wonder if Doern was right. With the exception of the boardwalk, all the monster attacks occurred at sea. But after the Coast Guard announced their intent to kill the Point Pleasant Monster, Gunderson had been adamant that Piet and his men do everything possible to secure it, alive.
He had no
choice but to split his already small force. He and Doern followed the FUBI, while Olef and Heinrich plied the Atlantic in their fake Coast Guard boat, which so far had raised no suspicions from any real USCG crews they had encountered.
Piet’s binoculars settled on the FUBI photographer. His gaze lingered on her slender legs, then crept up to her breasts. They weren’t that big, unfortunately, but he would still enjoy sucking on her nipples, before slicing them off.
***
“We’re being followed,” Rastun whispered to Geek.
“Where?” Geek asked as the two walked through the tall grass behind the rest of the expedition.
“About two hundred yards behind us.”
Geek twisted around, making like he was retrieving something from his waistband. Rastun knew the former sergeant, in reality, was checking their six.
“I don’t see anything,” said Geek.
“Trust me, they’re there. I saw a head pop up and duck back into the grass. Sometimes the grass is moving when there’s no breeze.”
“You think they might be connected to our mole?”
“Maybe.” Rastun glanced over his shoulder. In the distance, he saw a section of grass drop forward and spring back up, like someone was crawling through it.
“We have to tell the others.”
“It could work to our advantage,” said Geek. “Our mole might get nervous and tip his hand, or hers if it’s Malakov.”
Rastun nodded and headed over to Ehrenberg.
“Randy. We’ve got one, maybe two people following us.”
Ehrenberg turned to him, his face a mix of surprise and disbelief. “You sure?”
“Positive.”
“Do you know who they are?”
“Negative. But right now we have to consider them a threat.”
Ehrenberg’s face tightened, burying the earlier expression of surprise. “So what should we do?”
“Go there.” Rastun jerked his head to the right, toward a coppice of trees 150 yards away. “Once we’re under cover, Geek and I will set up an ambush.”
“Ambush? You mean like shooting?”
“If we’re lucky, it won’t come to that.”