Jack found Monaco’s parade of clichés distracting.
“Sounds great for the SyFy Channel, but you glossed over how you keep the wolf’s or mountain lion’s immune system from attacking the stem cells.”
“Okay,” Monaco said, looking anxious. “That’s a problem.”
“Damn right it’s a problem.”
“No, I mean the explanation is a problem. We had to sign some heavy-duty NDAs before we could work on this project. And by ‘heavy duty’ I mean revealing anything about the methodology will be considered an act of treason.”
Hess added, “You’ve already told him enough to get us hung.”
“I don’t know about the ‘hung’ part,” Monaco said. “We’ve been assured there’ll be no trial, we’ll simply disappear.”
“Just a wee bit melodramatic, don’t you think?”
“I sure as hell hope so. And I can pretty much guarantee that if they find out about this conversation, you’ll disappear too.”
“Really.”
Gotta find me first.
“Yeah. DoD was serious as all hell about keeping the stuff secret.
“What stuff?”
“The goop they gave us to experiment with.”
“Careful…” Hess said.
Monaco nodded without looking at him. “Right. Don’t ask me what it is because I don’t know and couldn’t say a word even if I did. It’s got a strange little code name which is not a fraction as strange as the stuff itself.”
“What’s the code name?”
A vigorous headshake. “Nope. Can’t say it. Its name’s not germane to the story and I’ve no doubt NSA has it as a key word in its ECHELON monitoring. If it ever pops up in a search, they’ll come looking. My lips are sealed.”
Jack waved him to continue with his tale. He’d extract the name later if he thought it mattered.
“Okay, long story short: We found a way to coat human stem cells with the goop before we inject them into the animals. We don’t know the specific immune protection mechanism but the coating not only shrugs off all rejection reactions from the host but makes the stem cells aggressive as all hell.”
“They cause aggression?”
“No, the host doesn’t become aggressive—the cells, the stem cells become aggressive in replacing the host’s cells. First they replace damaged ones, then they start replacing heathy ones, changing the body.”
“Making it more human?”
“Exactly. We couldn’t believe how quickly the changes occurred. Structural remodeling in months.”
This was scary—if true.
“Let’s back up here. So, you’ve got a lab full of part-human creatures out there on Plum Island? Like a modern-day Island of Doctor Moreau?”
“No way,” Hess blurted. “Moreau was a crazy vivisectionist. We’re nothing like that. We don’t cut on anything.”
“Easy, Ed,” Monaco said. “Sadly, we have no Moreau-esque menagerie out there. I mean, it could have been something like that. The results we get are miraculous… but the hybrids don’t survive. At varying points along the way, the stem-cell infiltration triggers an autolytic reaction and their cells start to lyse—all of them.”
Lyse… Jack wasn’t familiar with the term.
“What’s that mean? “
Calmer now, Hess chirped up. “Lysis is when a cell is destroyed. Often the cause is from outside, but it can come from within. For some reason we haven’t determined, the cells of the hybrids begin to destroy themselves, rupturing their cell membranes and releasing their contents. It’s called autolysis.”
“It’s cell suicide, plain and simple. When we started this project at the turn of the century—”
They’d mentioned that before.
“Since 2000?” Sheesh.
Hess nodded. “Right around then. That was when the first sample of melis—” He caught himself and gulped. “The goop arrived.”
“‘Melis’?”
Monaco’s expression turned furious as he shouted at Hess. “Now you’ve done it! Now you’ve fucking done it!” He gave Jack a pleading look. “Forget you heard that word. Erase it from your mind.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Seriously. Burkes told us you live off the grid. You want to stay off the grid? Forget that word. You want the grid laser-focused on you? Then throw that word around. Go ahead: Google it. See what happens.”
“What do you care?” Jack said, hiding his unease.
“Because when they find you, you’ll tell them where you heard about it, and then they’ll come for us. And don’t think you can hold out on them, that your lips are sealed, because they’ll unseal them.”
A nightmare scenario. Jack put it aside.
“I’m not interested in what your goop is called. I’m interested in what it does. And you say all your test animals have died?”
Monaco paused and seemed to regain his composure. “All except H3. At least not yet.”
“But you think it will?”
“It’s lasted far longer than any of the others, but no reason to think it won’t.”
“When?”
Monaco shrugged. “I wish we knew, but we don’t. We’ve inoculated all sorts of species with the supercharged stem cells but H3 is the only one that’s survived past six or seven months.”
“And Defense keeps funding you?”
Another glance at Hess. “We don’t think our funding comes through the usual appropriations route, if you know what I’m saying.”
Jack could guess—black funds for off-the-books research.
“Gotcha.”
“So far H3 is the exception. Our golden child. It’s broken new ground. No hybrid has lasted this long or come this far. We’re overjoyed you found it before it began to deteriorate.”
Jack was starting to feel a little guilty about his ruse. Just a little.
Hess said, “One of the reasons we chose that particular wolf for inoculation was that it had liver cancer. We wanted to see how the stem cells would respond when they encountered a malignancy.”
“And?”
“Cured it. Gobbled up the malignant cells and replaced them with normal liver cells. We’ve never heard or seen anything like it.”
“Wait-wait-wait. How does a human stem cell become a wolf liver cell?”
“Our supercharged stem cells are pluripotent, which means they can become pretty much any kind of cell. And they don’t morph into wolf cells, they use some of the wolf’s DNA to become cells that are part human and part wolf.”
Jack shook his head. Sounded like bullshit—too good to be true was usually just that—but these guys seemed genuinely excited, like they’d stumbled onto some magic cure.
“So, you’ve found a cure for cancer.”
“Unfortunately,” Hess said, “it’s a cure that will kill you.”
Jack couldn’t help a rueful smile. “Yeah, just that one little side effect.”
“It’s doable,” Monaco said. “That’s why getting H3 back alive was so crucial. It carries all sorts of medical secrets under its skin. Its blood contains antibodies of incalculable value. Its immune system has the potential to open a whole new avenue of cancer therapy. Can we see it now?”
This wasn’t going to be easy…or pretty. But first…
“Just a couple more questions. This is a federal government project. If H3 is so important, why not have the FBI and the CIA and the DEA and ATF and ICE involved? You could have all of them and the US Marshals to boot looking for it, but you hired me? Doesn’t make sense.”
“Sure it does,” Hess said. “Because we can’t let them know we’ve had another escape.”
“Wait. Another?”
That conspiratorial glance again.
“Back in 2006 we had one of the subjects get loose and—”
“The Montauk Monster? That was one of yours?”
“Unfortunately yes. We were able to retrieve its corpse before anyone could do a decent post mortem. If they had, they’d have fo
und some odd anomalies.”
“The thing is,” Monaco said, “if DoD learns that we’ve had another escape, we’ll be off the project. Over two decades of our blood, sweat, and tears will be dropped in someone else’s lap. You’ve heard of Alexander Fleming?”
“The penicillin guy? Sure.”
“Jonas Salk, Watson and Crick?”
“Polio and DNA. Yeah.”
“Well, Hess and Monaco will be right up there with them if we can make this work.”
“And we can,” Hess said. “I know we can. The treated wolf stem cells replaced the cancer cells. Human blood cells can be transformed into stem cells now. Do that with a cancer patient’s blood, treat them with the mel—I mean the secret goop—and inject them, they could do the same. At least the potential is there. We can make it work. We just need time and funding and, most of all, H3.”
Monaco said, “We’ve worked too hard to let that be taken away and given to someone else. That’s why we didn’t bring in the alphabet soup agencies. And we’re glad we didn’t. We hired you and you got the job done totally on the Q-T. We’ll take H3 back to the lab and all will be as before with no one the wiser.”
Jack took a step back. “Yeah…about that…”
6
After the dramatic displays of outrage, the cursing, the shouting, Jack finally cut them free.
“I’m very disappointed in you,” Hess said.
Jack shrugged. “Should’ve been straight with me from the git-go.”
Monaco snarled. “How could we be? The nature of our funding made it necessary we tell you as little as possible.”
“Well, then, you should have worked a little harder on your lies. Bronx Zoo?”
“Our legends have us officially listed as employees there.”
“So Burkes told me. But you shouldn’t spin me your tale and then head straight for Plum Island. H3 escaped in the lower end of Queens on its way from Canada to the Bronx? Did you think I was that gullible?”
“Not anymore,” Hess said.
Monaco still looked royally pissed. “I’d fire you on the spot if you didn’t know too much now. And if it wasn’t too late to find someone else. But beggars can’t be choosers.”
“If it makes any difference, I got two hits on the tracker tonight.”
“You did?” they said in unison.
“Started at a Howard Beach fast food joint where your pet raided the garbage. I followed it up to the racetrack area where the signal disappeared.”
“How can that happen?”
“I’m thinking it’s hiding underground. But getting hits in Howard Beach opens a new batch of questions. Why there? How did H3 get from Plum Island to Aqueduct Racetrack? And don’t tell me it’s got a gambling problem.”
Hess closed his eyes and shook his head. “Can we not tell you?”
“You mean it’s gonna be harder to believe than your super-duper stem cells?”
“No. It’s just better that you don’t know. There’s no need to know.”
Monaco said, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to disagree with you on that.”
Hess’s jaw dropped. “What? You can’t be serious!”
“Trust me on this, okay?”
“But—”
He raised a hand. “Trust?”
Hess looked like he had something more to say, but instead he shook his head and dropped into one of the living room’s ratty easy chairs where he buried his face in his hands.
“Okay,” Monaco said. “All along we’ve made it sound like Hess and I were the only two involved in this project. I should tell you now that there was a third man, a DIA agent named David Quinnell.”
Hess raised his head to stare at Monaco. He gave it a slow shake, then lowered it again.
The acronym didn’t ring a bell for Jack.
“DIA?”
“Defense Intelligence Agency—DoD’s own version of the FBI or CIA.”
“You said ‘was.’ No longer on the project or passed on to his Greater Reward?”
“The latter. The late David Quinnell was—and in this case I do not hesitate to speak ill of the dead—a real son of a bitch. I mean he had a cruel streak a mile wide. He used to torture H3—burn it, cut it, just to see how fast it would heal. And because of the stem cells, it healed very fast.”
“And you guys allowed this?”
“We didn’t have much say in the matter. We objected, of course, but DoD had put Quinnell in charge of the project. And he never hurt H3 when we were around. We only found the evidence of the injuries later. For some unfathomable reason, he hated H3. And after a while, H3 came to hate him back.”
As Monaco paused—to catch his breath and gather his thoughts, maybe?—Jack had a pretty good sense of where this was going.
“I’m getting an idea as to why you referred to this Quinnell as ‘late.’”
“Oh, he got his just desserts, I suppose, but not before he did the unthinkable two weeks ago.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“He took H3 off-island.”
Okay, that didn’t exactly strike Jack as “unthinkable” but he’d go along.
“For why?”
“We’re not sure, but we think he took H3 to a dog fight—at least that’s what we surmised from the nature and pattern of wounds we found upon its return. But as usual they healed quick as greased lightning.”
Jeez, listening to this guy was like reading a gun catalog with Gia turning the pages.
“Is there a caboose to this train? What’s any of this got to do with H3 being in Queens?”
“I’m getting there. The backstory is important.”
Jack couldn’t see why.
“Can we just say that H3 killed Quinnell and get on with it?”
“Yes, we could. But then we’d be leaving out the really good parts.”
“Like?”
“Like H3 killing Quinnell in a very nasty way—by tearing open his abdomen and letting him bleed out.”
An ugly way to die.
“It also ate part of his liver.”
“I still don’t see—”
“Then it pulled clothes from the man’s locker and stowed away on the shuttle to Orient Point.”
Jack heard the words but it took a while to fully process them as he looked from Monaco to Hess and back. Hess’s head was still down, still in his hands. And Monaco looked like a man who didn’t know what to say next.
Jack said, “You expect me to believe that?”
“I’m not sure I believe it myself,” Monaco said, “but Quinnell was dead, and his change of clothes was missing along with his overcoat. With the tracker showing no trace of H3’s chip on the island, we could only assume it sneaked onto the ferry. It was raining cats and dogs that night and perhaps that’s how it got aboard unnoticed. It made it to the mainland before anyone had a clue it was gone.”
“Wearing a dead man’s clothes?” Jack tried to picture it. “How is that possible? What is this thing?”
“I believe I mentioned that the altered stem cells affect the brain along with the somatic tissues. H3 is not pure wolf anymore. It’s part human, and part of that humanness includes increased intelligence.”
Jack was almost afraid to ask…
“How much of an increase are we talking here?”
Monaco shrugged. “We did some testing along the way which indicates it’s probably at the level of a twelve-year-old.”
A pre-teen? Jack wanted to flatten Monaco’s nose.
“And you didn’t think I might need to know something like that?”
“Frankly, no. You find H3, you shoot it with a dart or two, it falls down and can’t get up. End of story. Doesn’t matter how smart it is—it’s down and that’s all she wrote.”
“I’m more concerned about before its down. Its intelligence makes it more dangerous than a dumb animal, not to mention harder to find. And none of this explains why it’s in Queens.”
“That’s why the back story is important. When we re
ported Quinnell’s demise, the DIA of course investigated the death of one of its own. We told them that Quinnell had killed H3 before he died and that, in the interest of security, we’d cremated its body. They weren’t happy with that, but couldn’t undo the cremation. It was fait accompli—water under the bridge. Which worked for us because, as we’ve already explained, we can’t let anyone know H3 is free.”
“Keep going.”
“They traced Quinnell’s steps when he took H3 inland. And yes, as we’d surmised, he took it to a dogfight. The investigators learned that he’d arranged for it to enter the pit with not one but three pit bulls. He won big money when it killed all three. But that wasn’t the only stop Quinnell made. He visited his ex-wife and daughter before the fight to show off his ‘pet.’”
“Sounds like a swell guy. But what’s this got to do with—?”
“They live in Howard Beach. I have a terrible feeling H3’s desire for revenge on Quinnell might extend to his family as well.”
“Christ. And you’ve said nothing?”
Unbelievable.
“I said ‘might.’ We don’t know. It’s only a guess. But I think you might do well to keep an eye on Quinnell’s house…just on the chance that H3 shows up there.”
“Does the ex know Quinnell’s dead?”
“No idea.”
“You haven’t told her?”
“That’s not our business. That’s DoD’s bailiwick. They decide who knows what. And her being his “ex” may be a reason they feel no pressing need to tell her.”
“What about H3? No one told her it’s loose?”
Monaco gave him an incredulous look. “Haven’t you been listening? No one in the public can know H3 exists, let alone roaming the streets.”
“So, she doesn’t know she might have this wolf thing stalking her?”
“Of course not.”
Monaco’s matter-of-fact tone made Jack want to kill him. Monaco must have sensed that because he took a step back. Jack balled his fists and forced a couple of deep breaths.
“How old’s the daughter?”
“Three.”
Shit!
“Get out,” Jack said in a low voice.
“Beg pardon?”
“Out. Both of you. Out of my house.”
“But—”
“Now. Before I do something you’ll regret.”
The Last Christmas: A Repairman Jack Novel Page 11