Monkey See, Monkey Do [Drunk Monkeys 9] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting), Page 2

  Not even the slightest bit of emotion.

  That’d been when it was easier to sleep on the couch than share a bed with him. The last straw. He was a one-trick pony, and not very bright. Nice enough in the beginning, at least, but she’d soon discovered he was a lot nicer when he wanted a piece of ass than when he wasn’t in the mood or too tired.

  Which was most of the time.

  Staring at the growing pile of trash bags in the middle of the living room, along with her three suitcases, she realized something.

  The timing sucks, but I’m not unhappy about leaving.

  * * * *

  It was a little before midnight when Leta pulled into the staff parking lot at the hospital with her keyring now two lighter than it had been that morning.

  Glancing in the rearview mirror, she couldn’t see out her rear window. She had put the back seat down to make more room and had managed to pack everything in with a little room to spare. At some point she’d need to take the time to neatly repack everything, fit more in the suitcases, and buy another suitcase or two. Most of her stuff she’d just shoved into garbage bags to simply get out of there. If Gary found anything of hers that she’d forgotten, he’d promised to call her so she could pick it up on Sunday.

  I guess there are benefits to living out of your car.

  At least she wouldn’t be homeless. She had insurance on it, and it was paid for.

  Maybe I should invest in some camping gear.

  This was Florida, for chrissake. Most of fall and spring, it wasn’t so oppressively hot that she couldn’t sleep outside. Even during a goodly chunk of winter it was nice enough to sleep outside.

  Get a tent and an air mattress, find a campground nearby.

  Hell, she could probably find a camper van or small trailer to tow behind her SUV and live out of that.

  Thinking ahead, she’d prepped a bag with her shower kit, extra clothes, and what she’d need for the next couple of days. She’d go inside, nap, and be ready to start her shift in a few hours. She’d showered before she left the apartment, so all she’d have to do in the morning was wake up, find coffee, and hit the floor running.

  Except, that’s not how it happened. She ended up clocked in when a code blue was called on the floor she was trying to nap on, and she jumped in to help. Followed by another code blue.

  Followed by another.

  By six o’clock the next morning, she’d managed less than five minutes of sleep and was already running on fumes following her forty-eight hours on that she’d worked before today.

  Why’d I decide to become a doctor again?

  At the rate she was going, it wouldn’t be Kite that killed her.

  It’d be exhaustion.

  * * * *

  A little after midnight on what was now technically Thanksgiving Day, Uncle and his partner, Zed, were studying the tablet laid on the table in front of them.

  Papa and Alpha, their unit’s commander and second, were going over the supply run logistics with them at the Drunk Monkeys’ secret island hideout just off the southwest coast of Florida.

  “Thanksgiving Day means the hospital will be understaffed and hopefully not as many patients there,” Alpha said. “Get in, get out, and get back here safely. Easy-peasy.”

  “Don’t jinx us,” Uncle scolded. “And we’re sure we can’t just order what we need and have it dropped to a front location somewhere nearby?”

  Papa shook his head. “What the lab crew needs is currently only available from one vendor in this country, and it’s backordered through them for several weeks because of all the work being done on Kite at labs all over the US. This hospital is connected to a small university with a research department. Very specialized, but the same kind of supplies. Bubba checked and they received a shipment three weeks ago from the vendor. They should have at least some there.”

  “And they can’t spare any from Atlanta?” Zed asked.

  “Not really, no. It’s requisitioned from another department there. It might look funny if a huge batch of it suddenly disappears. Bubba isn’t sure yet if that department and its chain of command are mole-free. We can’t afford the risk of raising any red flags there. Not to mention, they really can’t spare what they have.”

  “And if this doesn’t work?” Uncle asked. “Or if they don’t have enough?” Uncle wasn’t a doctor, or even a med-tech. He didn’t understand why no one else couldn’t just whip up a batch of the special medium they apparently needed to culture the samples. Then again, that was above his pay grade, even though he was a first lieutenant.

  “Then we’ll have to start hitting other facilities,” Papa said. “This is the closest one. Next on the list would be Miami, or up in Tampa, and I really don’t want to send anyone out that far when we’re already spread thin enough as it is.”

  Uncle grokked that part of the equation, at least. He also understood why their CO didn’t want to relinquish the Florida safe house yet despite the one in Atlanta being up and running. After what happened in California following the earthquake, and their narrow escape from the LA area, they had to keep an eye on their next step. With brutal winter weather already in full swing throughout much of the country and it was still only fall, Papa had to keep their options open.

  It didn’t help that they had the scientists from The List spread between the two locations, either.

  They finished their planning. “Well,” Uncle said, “I want to grab a little rack time before we move out.”

  Zed yawned. “Can’t argue with you there.”

  * * * *

  Zed didn’t mind the mission, even though he wished they didn’t have to steal from a hospital to get what they needed. Before dawn the next morning, he and Uncle set out on their trip. Uncle drove the older, tiny two-door Toyota solar hybrid they’d taken. Good on gas and very understated, an easy car to miss, even if you were looking for it. And a bazillion of them on the road.

  The hospital was less than twenty miles away in a straight line, and traffic was light. But they had to take a roundabout path, going east first, all the way out to I-75 and then south and west again into Ft. Myers. It was the only way to make sure they weren’t followed back to their hideout later. Depending on how the run went, they’d take an even more circuitous route back.

  As the sun began tingeing the eastern horizon with hints of pinks and oranges, Uncle slowly shook his head, his green eyes looking black in that light.

  “Don’t like this,” he muttered. “Bad feeling.”

  Zed’s pulse jumped. “How so?”

  Uncle was a man of few words, usually, unless he had something to talk about. Wasn’t a nervous chatterbox, or someone who’d run his mouth so long and loudly that you wanted to make him suck-start a nine millimeter just to shut him the fuck up.

  And when Uncle had a “feeling,” Zed tended to listen to the man.

  Uncle shook his head. “Don’t know. Just a feeling.”

  “Want to abort?”

  “Not for a feeling, no.” Uncle drove on for a few more minutes. They were already heading south on I-75. “Nobody following us,” he added. “Just can’t shake it.”

  They had, admittedly, been pretty damn lucky so far. Lots of close calls, some closer than others, but they could see the finish line just ahead. Zed was looking forward to finally being able to contemplate a future after the military and without worrying about the Kite virus any longer.

  They were dressed in scrubs and wore white coats. Doc had given them stethoscopes to wear, and Bubba had shipped them IDs that he swore would not only get them into where they needed to go, but would pass inspection at the hospital.

  This should be an easy mission.

  Still…

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” Zed told his partner.

  Uncle grunted but didn’t otherwise respond.

  Zed hated it when the man got into these moods. It always put Zed on edge, because more often than not it usually meant shit was about to go down. Bad shit.

  They
both had sidearms tucked in holsters at their waistbands, as well as knives. Hurting or killing someone was absolutely the last thing they wanted to do today.

  But it was still on the list, if they were seriously threatened.

  This mission was too vital. The mission as a whole, not just this supply run. Now with seven of the known fourteen living scientists from The List working toward a vaccine, success was right there, within their grasp.

  They wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that simply over a hunch.

  Zed settled back in his seat and tried to ignore the increasing case of nerves wanting to take up residence in his gut.

  Chapter Three

  Ax sat at the table and stared across it at Kali Enyo. After having conversed with her online for several months, to finally get to meet her in person felt almost…surreal.

  Especially since she now looked nothing like the missing person alerts posted all over the Internet and media outlets. He’d known what she looked like now through the picture she sent him to get her a fake ID, but still…

  In person, she no longer resembled Mary Silo, missing wife of the Reverend Hannibal Silo, Church of the Rising Sunset.

  And Ax couldn’t believe how right it felt calling her Mom.

  She smiled at him. “So they just let you leave, huh?”

  “I’m guessing you watched me for a while after I got here to make sure I wasn’t followed.”

  “Absolutely. You taught me well.”

  A flush of pride washed through him at that compliment. “I’m still working with them. I don’t want to stop helping them. Especially not after what…happened.”

  He didn’t like to think about the pictures of Scooter’s roommates, tortured to death by a team of mercenaries hired by Reverend Silo.

  They’d been trying to find him, and by extension, Kali.

  “I figured that much,” she said. “But what I don’t understand is why they don’t seem to want to force me to come in.”

  “Because they don’t. I swear, they’re your husband’s worst enemy right now.” He lowered his voice, aware of the other Thanksgiving Day lunch patrons seated nearby. “They’ve managed to find and bring in several of the scientists. They’re really close to a vaccine. The stuff…” He had to swallow back bile at the memory of the videos they’d forced him to watch of the Kite lab in LA, the pictures of the victims.

  Barstow.

  Scooter’s friends.

  He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Because of what your husband’s lab did in LA, it contributed to what happened in Barstow.”

  Her expression grew hard. “So again I ask, why wouldn’t they force me in? What’s their angle?”

  “They don’t have one. Except stopping Kite and stopping Silo. That’s it. That’s all.”

  “Stopping him by arresting him and putting him in jail?”

  “No.”

  She studied him. “Then what do they want to do?”

  “They are afraid to take him out before there’s a proven vaccine. They’re worried he might have a fail-safe in place.”

  “A fail-safe? Like you told me to put together?”

  “Yes, but in his case, they’re worried it might be another release of the Kite virus into the wild.”

  Her gaze dropped to the table. Her hands hadn’t emerged from under the table since they sat down. It wouldn’t shock him if she had a gun trained on him under the table, just in case.

  That’s why he kept his hands visible, palms flat on the table’s surface.

  “Do they really think that about him?” she eventually asked.

  “They don’t know. We’ve hacked into the church’s computer networks, but the labs generally aren’t connected to the main network, so it’s hard to say. And not everything is in the network.”

  “Tell me what happened in LA,” she said, still not meeting his gaze. “Everything.”

  He did. He’d spared her the worst details before now.

  Not anymore.

  He told her everything, about what the Preachsearch Project did, had planned to do. How it had contributed to the virus running wild in LA, which had led to the events in Barstow.

  When he finished, he couldn’t interpret her expression.

  “You have proof?” she asked.

  “They gave me copies of everything. Pictures, video, data. I have it all.”

  “You can show me later, then. After we eat.” Her left hand emerged and she took a sip of water from the glass before her. They were still waiting on their food. “Do you have other evidence from the church servers?”

  “Like what?”

  Now her eyes burned into his as she met his gaze. “His Legacy Project. And the child brides.”

  He nodded. “There was some stuff that looked innocent, but when you know the details behind it, it fits into the puzzle.”

  “I want to see all of that, too.”

  “I’ll show you everything I have, tell you everything I know.”

  Finally, she sat back in her chair, her left hand resting on the table and her right still not visible. “I’m going to kill Hannibal myself,” she said. “If me going in to join them means they will take that away from me, then I’m not going in. I don’t care what I have to do. Will that be a problem?”

  “Nope. As long as you promise me one thing.”

  “Depends on what it is.”

  “You let me help you. I mean, you let me help you there. I want to see him die. I’m convinced he murdered my parents, or ordered them murdered. Either way, he needs to pay.”

  She cocked her head as she stared at him. “Okay,” she eventually said. “Deal.” She grinned. “You realize that when he dies, I am legally the head of the church, right?”

  “Then I suggest we take out Jerald Arbeid first.”

  “Why?”

  “Because from what I saw in the stuff pulled from the church’s records, if you and Hannibal are both dead, he’s in charge. That’s an awfully big motivation for murder right there.”

  After slowly nodding, her right hand emerged from under the table. “Considering how complicit he’s been in Hannibal’s affairs for so long, I think that’s a wise move. Certainly not an unjust one.”

  “They’re both evil,” Ax said. “And I’m not someone who’s religious, either. So for me to toss that word around, you know they’re bad.”

  Her smile looked both sad and vengeful at the same time. “Son, you have no idea.”

  * * * *

  After finishing lunch they walked out to Ax’s car and sat there with the engine running and the heater going as he showed Kali all the evidence on his computer.

  Including what Hannibal the Animal had ordered done to the woman’s roommates here in Atlanta.

  Kali Enyo no more resembled Mary Silo than a great white shark resembled a rabbit.

  Mary Silo had suffered under Hannibal’s curse for years, detaching from life because she thought she had no choices.

  Now with her awakening complete, she wouldn’t stop until she’d finished the monster off with her own two hands.

  Kali sat back in the passenger seat and let all the information digest for a moment. “Be honest with me,” she said. “They’re not going to track you? Force me in?”

  “I’m sure Bubba will keep electronic tabs on me. Wouldn’t shock me if they put a tracking device on my car. But no, they don’t want to force you in. They know that it would not only strain their already limited resources, but it might endanger the whole mission. They’re focused on protecting the scientists and helping them in whatever ways they can to find a vaccine. They trust me, and I trust them. They could have easily tortured me, forced me to arrange a meeting with you, and then taken you in.” He showed her the gun he wore. “They wouldn’t have given me this if that was the case. The deal is I still work with them, help them, and they’ll help us as much as we ask for.”

  She had closed the lid of his laptop and it still rested in her lap. “I don’t know if Hannibal has a fail-safe or not
. It wouldn’t shock me if Jerald does. But I suspect Jerald’s fail-safe would be one of information, not a virus dump. He has full and unfettered access to the church’s computer system and all the finances. He’s probably got secret accounts stashed all over the place that Hannibal doesn’t even know about.”

  She looked at him. “On the other hand, I know for a fact Hannibal has contacts who Jerald isn’t aware of. People who could do or have done…things.” She waved at the laptop. “Like those poor girls here in Atlanta. Mercenaries.”

  “Do you know who they are?”

  “No. I’ve heard him talk to them on burner phones before, but that wasn’t any information I could write down and take with me. Over the years, Hannibal has given Jerald far more leeway and access than any other assistant ever had before him. I was sort of surprised by that, actually. Usually Hannibal replaces them before they become too invaluable to get rid of.”

  “Well, that news is good and bad, I guess. About the fail-safe.”

  “I know Hannibal doesn’t want to catch Kite. I would expect him not to set up virus distribution in places where it would affect him personally. Like St. Louis. That’s his headquarters.”

  “Yeah, that makes sense. Why did he choose there, of all places?”

  “Location. It’s close to the Mississippi river, it’s centrally located in the country, and it had a mix of technology available for his broadcasting and network requirements, as well as a population base large enough to help support a church. Houston was because of several large donors in the area. He was money laundering.”

  “You have proof?”

  She reached up and touched her left ear. “Just these. Not sure how much weight a court would give my testimony considering how drugged up he kept me much of the time.”

  “Well, he won’t make it to trial, so that’s irrelevant.” The boy smiled, making her heart ache.

  The son she could never have.

  The one thing she’d always dreamed of.