A Romanian Werewolf In Harvard by Shayne Dark (Ottawa, Canada) Copyright (C) 2004, by Shayne Dark 1145 Thursday - The Good Cuppa - Harvard Square, Boston "More tea?" Thibor picked up the flowered porcelain teapot and gestured towards Cammy's cup. "Just a touch, please." Cammy spread thick fruit preserves over a biscuit and then carefully wiped the knife. "I must say, this is a rather welcome, civilized change from Guatemala." "Rather." Thibor tried unsuccessfully to layer a posh British nasal pronunciation over his heavy Slavic accent. The tea room they were waiting at was located a block from the center of Harvard Square in Boston. Outside the frost rimed windows, students passed back and forth, their breath frosting the air in front of them. It was definitely a change from the jungles of Guatemala. For example the women were all wearing more clothes, and no one was firing automatic weapons at them. He could do without the second, but rather missed the first. Rather than her usual body stocking, Cammy was dressed in civilian attire, as befitted what was supposed to be an undercover operation. Black slacks, and a caramel colored sweater that was thick enough to hide the enticing curves of her body. Her jacket and red beret were hung on a hook next to the door. "I do hope we aren't left waiting too much longer." Cammy glanced at her watch. "The agents did say that they would be here at 11:00, it's nearly quarter of twelve." "Is expecting social graces from Americans?" Thibor chuckled. "They did not show up on time for World War One or Two." "Thibor, what an unkind thing to say." Cammy maintained a serious expression for a moment before breaking out into a slightly guilty smile. "Even if it is true. I don't suppose that you know why we've been sent here." "Knowing as much as you do." Thibor shrugged and helped himself to more tea. "Byrd just said that our particular skills would be required. Am betting that is peace offering for disturbing flawless and squeaky clean Southern American foreign policy." "Why do I feel as though we're being set up." Cammy took a bite from her biscuit. "Let me see, we are alone, is Boston, not having to chaperone the kids, in center of culture, art and good food, taking tea at lovely, romantic hideaway..." Thibor let the description trail off. "I didn't mean set up like that." Cammy blushed, "Do try and keep your wolfish ways under control for a moment. I meant that we are not exactly on America's favorite people list this very moment, so why bring us here?" "About to find out." Thibor sipped his tea. "Coming in on your six. Two men, both six feet, blue on blonde, brown on brown, black secret-agent suits." Thibor's nostrils flared, as he scented the air, "Both are packing, German made poly-carbon automatics. Silver ammunition." "Oh dear." Cammy moved her chair back slightly so she could reach the needle-gun concealed in her purse. "Lieutenant Colonel Hoyle?" The blonde, blue eyed agent offered an open hand. "I am agent Barnes. This is agent Bloom." "Hello. Nice to meet both of you." Cammy shook the proffered hand. "This is Major Sawchyk." "Thibor. Good to meet you." Thibor rose and took the man's hand. "Why is coming packing with silver bullets? If you are Lone Ranger, then I am Snoopy." Both men looked panicked and their hands reflexively twitched towards their shoulder holsters." "You do not wish to do that mes amis." Another voice interrupted as Louis de Saint-Exupery's rather magnificent bulk rose up behind the agents. The French pilot had a small, deadly looking pistol pointed at the back of Agent Bloom's head. "Thanks Louis." Thibor reached forward and plucked the guns from the agent's holsters and passed them to Cammy. "Now what is it that you want?" "It's not what you think." Agent Barnes tugged nervously at his collar. "May we sit?" "Don't care if you roll over and play dead." Thibor winced slightly as Cammy kicked him under the table, in a deliberate reminder to be play nice with the agents. "Yes, please have some tea. Is all friends here." "It's like this." Barnes explained. "There's been a series of murders in the area, and we are trying to stop them and keep it quiet." "Why?" Cammy paused. "Oh dear. It has something to do with the President's daughter attending Harvard doesn't it?" "That's right." Agent Barnes continued. "We've had five murders in this area in as many weeks. We've been able to keep the media away from it, but it is only a matter of time before it leaks out." "So in order to keep it from becoming media circus you are leaving students in danger?" Cammy said, her voice sharpening. "And the President's daughter?" "She decided that she wanted to stay in classes, so we've subtly increased the protection around her with two of our agents; Carnifex and Crypt Kicker." Thibor, Cammy and Louis exchanged glances. "Very subtle." Thibor said. "Am complimenting you on your awesome display of subtly." "Thanks," Barnes smiled at the compliment. "We have to be circumspect." "Sure." Thibor continued. "No one is going to notice a martial artist with face like a broken vase and seven foot acid dripping, rotting corpse in cowboy hat walking around Boston Common. Is practically invisible. Now for what you are calling the million dollar question. Why is asking for us?" "You were recommended to us by a Colonel Byrd." Barnes said, "You see, we don't think the murderer is human so..." "So Colonel Byrd recommended the Major as he is a subject matter expert in the identification and destruction of supernatural creatures." Cammy said, her accent becoming cuttingly sharp. "And I was asked to accompany him as I fit the physical profile of the murder victims, and would be ideal bait to lure the attacker out." "How do you know that?" Agent Bloom finally broke his silence. "That's supposed to be classified." "Just a guess." Cammy's eyes narrowed. "The victims are all young women with blonde hair, just like the president's daughter?" "That's right. Colonel Byrd said that you have had experience in this situation." Agent Barnes withered under the glare. "He did, did he? Yes Agent Barnes, I have been in these situations before, and given that we are speaking, you can appreciate my ability to survive them. Now, if you would be so kind as to provide us with further information on what is happening." "Everything is at our operations base." Barnes explained, jotting down an address. "We will be able to give you a more complete picture there. Lieutenant Colonel, Major." He got up and motioned for Bloom to do the same. The two agents rose. Cammy returned their firearms. They left quickly, glancing back over their shoulders nervously. "Well." There was a hint of resignation in her voice. "What do you think?" "It is too nice a day to be lied to." Thibor refilled her cup. "And Heckyll and Jeckyll there are very bad at it." "Careless to." Louis added, "They did not check their guns, even now Madame Hoyle has their ammunition clips, and they are unaware." He shrugged with a Gallic expressiveness far more potent than any insult he could speak. "Am not liking this." Thibor growled, his eyes bleeding from black to wolfish yellow. "There are other experts in supernatural in United States, and they were packing silver. That means that they suspect werewolf, or possibly vampire. What is worse, Byrd did not say much, but he did mention that they asked for us. He did not recommend us when asked for experts. Now we are famous and very pretty, but not so much so that is going to be first chosen. Is needing answers." "We certainly won't find out sitting here." Cammy got up. "Shall we pay this address a visit?" "No." Thibor smiled wolfishly. "We follow trail of those two and see where they go first." "I will be in the area." Louis said. "I do not think that things are as secret as these Americans would like to think. There are many students, and many places that they congregate. I am sure that there is much to be overheard. Until later mes ami." 1340 Thursday- Boo's Fishmarket - Boston Harbor front. "Am I to understand that people actually eat what they sell here? What a pong." Cammy huddled deeper in her coat, as if to protect her nose from the overwhelming odor of rotting fish. If the smell was like this outside, she couldn't imagine what it would be like inside. "Is pretty bad." Thibor admitted, his nostrils flaring. "But it is where they went, and it is not the address they gave us. Am betting that this is their operations headquarters for the area. So is holding onto cute little nose, and doing it for Queen and country." He winced as Cammy punched him in the arm. They pushed through the single glass door. Cammy blinked twice as the odor hit her, every bit as bad as she had expected. A single man stood behind the cash. As he spotted the pair he grew immediately panicked and bolted through a curtain into a back room. Cammy vaulted over the counter with Thibor a step behind her. She noted that halfway through his leap his body exploded outward as he unleashed his wolf form. "Through there." Thibor pointed to a steel door at the back of the shop. Cammy stepped aside to allow him to rip the door, and the frame itself out of the wall. They stopped short. The room revealed was a full intelligence center, with two dozen staff milling about, watching monitors and typing away furiously at computers. The pervading fish smell wasn't so pronounced, but still present. "Hold it right there." The voice held a mid-western twang. A male figure in a form fitting, white bodystocking leapt in front on them and dropped into a powerful karate stance. The man's face looked like it should have been handsome, but the features were uneven, as if broken and not put back together with sufficient care. "It's all right Billy Ray. They're friends." A cultured voice with a slight New England drawl pre-empted the attack. "Here, smell." Thibor offered the back of his hand to the martial artist. The man drew back a look of annoyance crossing his features. He looked like he might launch an attack, but an older man walked up and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Good work son, that's some fine speed, but we're not in any danger from these two." The accent mangled danger to dain-jah. "If you say so Senator." The martial artist looked dubious, but stepped away. "You'll have to forgive Carnifex, he tends not to look before he leap kicks, but you won't find a tougher soldier anywhere." "I didn't know you were working with this investigation, Senator Kennedy." Cammy said, recognizing the man. "Oh I'm not really, I was sort of giving some guest lectures at the school, and was swept up in these terrible events. Poor little Jenna was quite beside herself, and I am an old family friend. I help out where I can." "As long as it does not involve driving?" Thibor added, wincing slightly as Cammy ground a heel against his foot. "Lieutenant Colonel Hoyle? What are you doing here?" Agent Barnes was obviously agitated. "This isn't the location we agreed upon!" "Will field this one." At seven feet, Thibor loomed over the agent. "Picked up strange scent and followed it back here. Was curious as to why agents is smelling like week old haddock." Cammy nodded her agreement. If Thibor wasn't mentioning his other suspicions, there would be a reason for it. "If you say so." If anything Agent Barnes seemed even more agitated. "Well since you are here, I suspect that you want to look over the files." He led them towards a small, glass enclosed office in the rear corner of the room. A long table was laid out with a huge number of files, maps and other materials. Thibor's eyes were immediately drawn to a bundle of lurid colour photos and the attached autopsy reports. He picked up the first one and began to scan it rapidly. As he did, he resumed his human form, his fur and bulk melting away. His slacks had survived the transformation, but his shirt and sweater were no more than tatters. "I'll see about finding you a shirt." The senator walked away with a slight unsteadiness in his gait. Thibor ignored him, concentrating on the reports. The pictures were horrible, but he had seen far worse. The girl's faces were wide-eyed with a horror that had lasted well past their deaths, and remained locked there. The wounds were horrible, the chests and abdomens ripped open and the viscera drawn out. Beside him Cammy watched, her lips set in a thin white line. "Most of the viscera was recovered." Agent Barnes looked almost green. "Lungs, stomache and intestines were still at the scene, a short distant from the bodies, but the heart, liver and kidneys were all absent. Whatever did this probably ate them." "What do you think did it." Thibor said. "We think it is a werewolf." Barnes said without hesitation. "The wounds were definitely caused by claws, and the attacks only happened on cloudless night when the moon was visible." "You are right." Thibor nodded in agreement. "Would like to run another autopsy, and examine bodies, is possible to get a scent." "Oh." Barnes looked away. "That's not going to be possible." "The bodies of those poor girls were cremated right after the autopsy." Senator Kennedy limped up and handed Thibor a white dress shirt. "Agent Barnes was afraid they would come back as some sort of foul creature." "Lycanthropy is not contagious in dead bodies." Thibor ignored the offered shirt. "Is only if victim survives the attack that disease may be transmitted." "Well son, we don't all have your expertise, it's why you were brought in." The Senator said graciously. Thibor frowned deeply. This just kept getting worse. He glanced over to where Carnifex was watching them. The man was trying to look nonchalant, but Thibor could see the tension in his muscles. He wasn't that good a body guard either, as his eyes were darting towards Cammy, and not the dangerous parts of her - well at least not the most dangerous part of her. He was checking her out, and obviously enjoyed what he was seeing. The drawbacks of skin tight suit. Thibor allowed his senses to take on wolfish sharpness. As he suspected Carnifex had silver somewhere on his person, probably brass knuckles or a shiny fist load. "Do you have all this data in electronic format?" Cammy asked. "I would like our own operations people to look over it." "I'll have it forwarded to your people." Barnes said. "It'll take a few hours to get it all put together." "That would be fine, thank you." Cammy said graciously. "It is certainly appreciated." She returned her attention to the map, noting down the locations of the attacks. "I am finished with these." Thibor put the files down. "Will go investigate and get back to you later today." 1600 Thursday, Dante's Inferno - Harvard Square - Boston. Cammy winced as the rock music pounded down on her at a volume that fell just short of being shattering. Beside her Thibor was tucking into something the menu described as an Inferno burger, seemingly oblivious to the music. She looked down at her own salad. After going over the details of the case, she wouldn't be able to comfortably manage red meat for another few hours. "Is there a reason we are here." She considered asking the management to turn down the music, but was quite convinced that they must all be deaf, and would not be able to understand the request. She started as Thibor slid over to her side of the booth and pressed his lips to her neck. "Really. This is neither the time nor the place." She attempted to gently push him away as his lips moved up to her ear. "Is good time and place." Thibor whispered. "Especially as we are being watched. Table at four O Clock, if that is student, I am daffy duck. Is impossible to overhear through music and is too dark to get good look to read lips. Play along. Is not werewolf." "The claw marks?" Cammy whispered. "Wrong shape." Thibor confirmed. "Not deep enough, not enough strength. Is not only thing that bothers me." "What else." Cammy started. "Look Thibor, I recognize the necessity for this little show, but I doubt that your hand being there is significantly adding to the authenticity." "Is being watched by Americans." Thibor grinned. "Is not understanding subtle, so is not being subtle." "Fine, but not another inch lower. That Major is a direct order. Don't make me bust you down to Private." Cammy blushed even redder as she realized the inadvertent double-entendre. "You were about to add something?" "Histamine levels." Thibor said. "Not matching wounds. Is too high for death by attack of that type. Also, blood patterns at scene were too regular. It is textbook for violent attack, but histamine levels are higher than would have time to generate if that much blood was spraying in those patterns." "So you're saying that the scene was staged." Cammy shivered as Thibor's mustache tickled against her neck. She had to force herself to listen, rather than respond to his ministrations. Damn the wolf, he bally well knew what this was doing to her. And damn yourself while you're at it, Cammy added, as you could tell him to stop at any time. "Is more staged than Stratford, but without the talent." Thibor confirmed. "Histamine levels is closer to drowning victim, but is not indicated in autopsy report if examination of lung tissue is showing presence of water, or even bronchial hemorrhage, am betting no one checked." "So they were drowned in around Harvard Square, without the presence of water, and then it was made to look like a werewolf attack?" "Yes." Thibor confirmed, releasing her with a final squeeze. "But is big question as to whether or not investigators know this, or is wondering if we suspect." "I should expect that they think we are up to something." Still blushing, Cammy turned her attention back to her salad. "So we will finish up here, and then go back to hotel." "Best suggestion is hearing all day." Thibor grinned. "You really are impossible." Cammy said. "I should very much like a nap, as we are going to be spending the rest of the night out in the streets chasing after monsters and figuring out what our American cousins have up their sleeves. 1730 Thursday Cambridge Arms Hotel, Room 237, Boston Cammy stepped out of the bathroom, first making sure that the towels wrapped around her body and hair were quite secure. It would be just like Thibor to have stopped by and there was no way she was going to let him catch her in the altogether. At least not while on duty. She made a mental note to have the staff send up another set of toiletries, as it had taken all the soap and shampoo in the bathroom, along with the better part of an hour of scrubbing, to rid her skin and hair of the fish scent of the American Operations center. She glanced at the clothes she had been wearing, folded neatly across a chair. There was nothing that could be done with them this minute, she would wrap them in plastic and see if dry-cleaning might make them wearable again. There was hope for the slacks, but the thick wool sweater was probably a lost cause. Making a note not to wear clothes she was fond of while on assignment, Cammy dug into her suitcase, coming up with undergarments, socks, a pair of crisp new blue jeans and a fleece top. She considered it for a moment and then replaced it with a loose cotton shirt. A knock interrupted her. "Just a tic." She called out, quickly dressing. Rather than check the peephole, she stood to the side and let the door swing slightly open. "Come in." She relaxed as Thibor stepped in. "Is little present for you, is finding in my room." Thibor dumped a handful of devices into her hands. Cammy quickly identified them, a dozen pinhead microphones, and no fewer than three tiny, wireless video cameras, complete with panning capability and zoom lenses. "Oh no." Cammy bolted into the bathroom. Thibor waited for a few moment before walking in after her. Most of the fixtures had been disassembled, and Cammy, Gerber multi-tool in hand, was busily removing the mirror from the wall. Her features were flushed pink in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. "Louis is removing from your room while is taking dinner." Thibor explained. "Sorry, should have mentioned." Cammy glared at him for a long moment as if contemplating whether or not to hurl the metal implement in her hand at him. "Well, that is a relief." Cammy sighed. "So our American friends moved quickly to put us under surveillance." "Either that or are looking for new pictures to put on internet." Thibor grinned. "Is definitely our American friends. Here, smell, is like day old kipper." "I'll take you word on it." Cammy said dryly. "Have you figured out our plan for this evening." "Was on the line to Simon. It is interesting location of attacks." Thibor said. "There is pattern, and it is more obvious than nose on your face. Not as cute, but just as obvious." He brought out a map and pointed to several numbered locations. "Is first attack here, then here, and here, right down this line. Is random only if is looking at location of streets, not underlying infrastructure architecture." "Oh that is just champion." Cammy scowled. "You mean to say that all these attacks have happened along the major sewer service line, by sequential street, and the collective forces of American intelligence couldn't point it out. Or to put a rather fine point on it, did not point it out to us." "Is still early, can get tickets to performance by Orchestra." Thibor said hopefully, noting the cross look on Cammy's face. "Or not. Is setup, is knowing this, but there is nothing to be done about it." He tossed the handful of observation gear into the toilet and flushed, watching as it was swept away. "Why do I feel that you've just hit on a rather appropriate allusion to this whole endeavor." Cammy said as the commode began to rattle and overflow. 2200 Thursday, Harvard Square, Boston. Cammy watched the mouth of the alley carefully. Behind her, Thibor bent down to examine the body. It was hard to tell with all the blood that was sprayed around, but the victim was a young, blonde woman. Thibor was doing the initial examination, using the vastly enhanced senses of his wolfen form to take in the details. "It is official. Is being setup." He concluded, tossing something towards her. "Look at this." "She's an FBI agent." Cammy's voice was incredulous as she examined the identification. "That means..." "Yes." Thibor nodded grimly. "Person of persons unknown at this time sent her specifically to this alley, knowing it would be site of next attack, and probably knowing that we would be here too." Cammy's expression was a mixture of outrage and disgust. Thibor noted a slight trembling of her limbs. Not fear. Anger. She calmed herself with a visible effort. "What else have you found out?" She asked, her lips set in a tight, white line. "Does this match the other murders?" "Yes." Thibor extended a claw and poked at the side of the corpse. He pushed down on the chest and was rewarded by a stream of pinkish fluid. "Water in lungs. Is saturated. Drowning victim. Also, amount of blood is too much to account for in bleeding. Is actual full exsanguination, all blood is gone from body." "That doesn't make sense." Cammy's eyes widened. The pools of blood were moving like something alive. The air changed too, a rotten fish odor replacing the acrid smell of fresh blood. "Shi..!" Thibor's exclamation was cut off as every drop of blood leapt from the trash strewn surface of the alley and splashed onto Thibor's muzzle, chest and hands. He shook his head in an effort to clean it off. "You furry bastard!" Cammy spun as she heard the voice behind her. It just kept getting better. Carnifex and Cryptkicker stood at the entrance to the alley. Carnifex's uneven features were pulled into a snarl. "I'm going to make a rug out of you!" "Oh do calm down." Cammy forced every ounce of command presence into her voice. "There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this. Now, please make yourself useful and get a crime services and forensics team in here." She reached for her phone. "We don't take orders from you." Billy Ray and Cryptkicker advanced on her. "Especially when you're standing between me and someone whose murdered on of our own. You're going down, and your little dog to." He suddenly dropped into a crouch. Cammy reacted instinctively, lowering her hands to ward off the attack he was about to throw. Cryptkeeper used the opportunity to lean over Billy's head and smashed an overlarge fist into Cammy's face. The impact drove her back into the ally wall with enough force to shatter the bricks. Billy Ray was on her in a moment, grabbing her by the face and slamming her back into the wall. Twice. "Son of Bitch!" Thibor watched as Cammy collapsed in an unconscious sprawl. He rose to his full height and advanced on the pair, his huge, clawed hands slowly opening and closing. "Get it right old man." Carnifex smiled with a lopsided grin. "You're the son of a bitch, or was it your mamma who went to the dogs?" Thibor didn't bother to answer the question and threw a straight punch at Carnifex's head. The white clad martial artist's block was perfect, but it was like trying the turn aside an onrushing freight train with a volkswagon. He was driven backwards several feet, but remained on his feet. Cryptkicker filled the void left by Carnifex's absence and kicked at thibor with a spurred boot. Thibor winced in agony as the spur gouged a long, bloody line in his thigh. Silver. Carnifex dove back into the melee, the tips of his boots shining with re-enforced silver caps. "Sorry Timmy." Billy Ray advanced, a wild joy on his features. "We're just gonna have to put Ol' Yeller down." Thibor could hear more agents converging on the scene, noting the smells of tainted fish, high power handguns and silver ammunition. The situation was tactically untenable. Even with the silver he was confident on his ability to deal with either Cryptkicker or Carnifex, but not the pair simultaneously, and certainly not while taking silver small arms fire from a flock of halibut tainted G-Men. The battle was theirs, a sacrifice that gnawed at Thibor in exactly the same manner that he intended to gnaw on them when he returned to win the war. Rather than fight back, Thibor ducked, wincing as Billy Ray's kick slammed into his left shoulder, tearing muscle and sinew. According to IST's files, neither Billy Ray, nor Cryptkicker were capable of 'enhanced movement capability', or to be more precise neither was capable of the level of 'enhanced movement capability' that he was. Scooping Cammy up in his arms, Thibor leapt upwards, landing on top of the building and then leaping again. He could hear the sounds of pursuit, and several ill-aimed shots whizzed by him as he pulled away from his attackers. He headed west for four blocks and then dropped back down to the street, resumed human form and immediately stepped into the open door of the Lincoln Continental that was idling there. "Is always having backup." Thibor grimaced, ignoring how he was smearing blood, his, Cammy's and that of the deceased agent over the immaculate leather seats. "That is so." Louie keyed the doors to lock and calmly drove away into the night. The deeply tinted windows would hide his passengers from prying eyes. He raised an eyebrow to question Cammy's condition, and was rewarded with a slow shake of Thibor's now human head. Additional medical assistance was not required. Without taking his eyes from the road he lifted a waxed paper coffee cup to his lips and drained it in a single long swallow. There was no need to ask if their suspicions at being set up were justified. IST London Headquarters. Colonel Byrd glanced down at the phone, but did not reach for it. He waited long seconds for it to ring before picking it up. It was bad form to answer the phone before it actually started jangling, and tended to put people off. "IST Byrd." He swung his legs up and placed his heavy boots on the surface of his immaculately clean desk. "'Ello Agent Bloom, forgotten about the time difference have we? You're a lucky bloke, I was just about to leave." There was a sputtering on the other end of the line, and Byrd took the opportunity to reach out and chuck one of his stuffed raptors playfully under the chin, obviously enjoying the moment. "Speak slower old son." Byrd cautioned. "So what you're telling me now is that our Major Sawchyk has gone, popped his conkers and killed someone? Are you quite sure then? So nobody actually saw him ripsaw that poor bit of skirt to shreds? Abducted Lieutenant Colonel Hoyle did he? Before or after your agent went rough and tumble on her? No.. I see.. No need to trouble yourself, we do have a contingency plan for just this sort of 'orrible thing. Hang on to your allens." Byrd laid the receiver down on his desk rather than put the call on hold. "O'Neil!" Byrd bellowed. Captain O'Neil appeared seconds later. "Okay Bluey, listen closely, Thibor's gone rabid and our fat yank friends are in a spot of trouble and need help the way the poor old Queen Mum needs a tumbler of gin to get started in the morning. Activate IST contingency plan. XZQ45TF59S3ZZ43D-X-ray- Gamma. Got it." "Yes Colonel." O'Neil saluted his lips moving silently in a vain attempt to remember the awful string of letters and numbers. Byrd smiled to himself, there was no way O'Neil would get it right, and even if by some small chance he did, there was no contingency plan with that identification code, and O'Neil would just assume that he had entered it incorrectly. That would eat up the better part of an hour as O'Neil worked up his courage to ask for the code again, by which time Byrd would be safely away and playing darts at the pub. He picked up the phone. "No need to get them in a twist chum." Byrd continued. "We've dispatched a team to assist you in apprehending Major Sawchyk, they have an ETA of four hours. Yes, I will understand if you want to use your own people, but just between you, me, and these four walls, if you do, don't send anyone you're fond of, the Major is a right handful if you've got him pissed, and believe- you-me my son, I think you have him pissed." Byrd hung up the phone and allowed himself a smile. The Yanks weren't the only ones capable of playing the deception game, the only difference was that the British were not complete muppets at it. Getting up, Byrd grabbed his jacket and cap from the coat-rack by the door and walked out of his office. "I'm nipping off down to the pub." He told a visibly panicked looking O'Neal. "Feel free to join me for a round when you get that matter squared away. My throw." New England Aquarium: Boston "Oooh... Who ran the lorry over my skull." Cammy regained consciousness and rubbed at the overlarge bump at the back of her head. The penguin watched her. Cammy rubbed her head once more and glanced at the penguin. It was most definitely a penguin. "Oh dear, possibly a concussion, I'm seeing penguins." The penguin ruffled its feathers and let loose a magnificent squawk that set her head ringing. "Well, if you are a hallucination, you are a bloody loud one. Would you mind bringing that down a notch, I'm not feeling entirely spot on." The penguin seemed to shrug its shoulders and turned to waddle off. "Is awake?" Thibor entered the room, his arms loaded down with a variety of packages. "Is there a penguin in here?" Cammy asked. "Yes." "Then I am awake, but just a little confused." Cammy managed to sit up. The last thing she remembered was reaching for her phone and then... "That rotter cold-cocked me, didn't he?" "Thoroughly." Thibor knelt down beside her and shone a small mag-lite in her eyes. "No concussion, but is going to be a little tender for a while. Here, is having something to eat." He handed her a large Styrofoam container. "How long was I out for?" Cammy was surprised that she actually had an appetite. She opened the container. Thick porkchops with applesauce, Boston brown beans, mash with gravy, grilled tomatoes, and a pair of thick sausages. Even better it was all still warm enough to be steaming. "Is better part of twelve hours." Thibor put down the rest of the packages. "Did not think head injury was serious, but was not going to wake you, is better to let you come to on your own." "And the penguin?" "Oh, is sick room at New England Aquarium. Is closed to public for renovations, and is knowing the veterinarian, so is not being disturbed." "Fair enough." Cammy took the utensils and napkin that Thibor offered, and then tucked into the food. "This is very good." "Is from Black Rose Tavern, just up the street. Is very good Irish tavern in town known for good Irish Taverns. Is named after Irish legend of..." Thibor trailed off. "Someone slap me." "Can it wait until I finish eating?" Cammy asked. "I take it that you've just had something of an epiphany." "Angels, holy visitation, Virgin Mary patting me on head and saying good doggie Thibor, the works." Thibor smiled. "I know who is killing, why is killing, why is trying to keep quiet and am working on why is trying to shift blame to wolf." "Do tell." Cammy cut the last of the meat from the chop and used it to scoop up the final dollop of applesauce. "Okay. Is blood rising up and splashing me. Is hydrokinetic ability, blood is thicker than water, but is still water enough to work. Is traveling around sewer line. There is heavy fish scent at scene of crime." "So whatever the person or thing is, it is probably aquatic, or at the very least amphibious in nature." Cammy put aside the empty container. "You don't think it was a zooenthrope?" "No." Thibor continued. "Is not going to go to such trouble just for setup. Is wanting something for afterwards?" "Please." Cammy accepted a Dunkin Doughnut bag. "Boston Cream?" "Seemed appropriate." Thibor grinned. "Is actually pretty good and you will need the energy. Now, who is players in game." "The two agents seem to be muppets." Cammy considered. "And I wouldn't be too terribly inclined to put Carnifex or Cryptkicker much higher. They're tough, but I was left with the impression that they are not exactly the scheming types. That leaves." "Senator Teddy Kennedy." Thibor finished for her. "Is member of powerful political family, is betting he knows where bodies are buried and who buried them, probably buried some himself. Is some sort of blackmail." "But where do the killings fit in?" Cammy finished her doughnut and looked at the smears of chocolate left on her fingers. With some regret she wiped them off with a napkin rather than lick them clean. "The Lake Chappaquiddick incident!" "Right in one." Thibor said. "Is betting that is not surviving crash, but if is having any fairy blood in line it is possible that body became agent for supernatural creature. Probably Kelpie." "Kelpie?" Cammy frowned. "I thought they were something like a horse?" "Is different types." Thibor said, "But is all bad, am betting that this one is black vale Kelpie. Is having some telepathy, some mind control, is able to change shape and is preferred to be fed on blood of young women. Also is smelling strongly of fish, so is having to disguise smell, with operations center or lots of booze." "So while it was reeling around after the accident it was learning all it could about Senator Kennedy and has been impersonating him ever since." Cammy considered it. "And by using its powers in Washington, it learned enough secrets to allow it to feed, and have its actions covered up by the government." "Right again." Thibor grinned. "And for final question, why is bringing us in at this moment and setting me up for blame?" Cammy considered this more a long moment. "I'm not sure, why bring in such an obvious risk, when you have all your ducks lined up? What do you think?" "Don't know." Thibor admitted. "Was hoping you had ideas." "If I was feeling particularly cynical." Cammy considered, "I would say that they would use it as a media point to pillory IST in the domestic press, nattering on about monsters and aliens and werewolves, oh my." "Or if was considering US leaders to be petty." Thibor added. "Is wanting to punish us for stepping in middle of their greasy deals in Guatemala and wondering if Hoya revealed anything." "Senator Kennedy made several trips to Guatemala in a diplomatic capacity." Cammy said. "It was noted in Hoya's file. If Hoya learned something about what he was, or even suspected, Kennedy might think he tried to bargain with it. Or may be bargaining with it now." "Is thinking we might come for him and is bringing us in on his own terms." Thibor said. "Is not terribly bright plan, but would not expect much better from drunken Irish spirit pond scum. News would not play well in Europe, but could sell idea of murderous rogue IST werewolf to States without problem. Will probably add in something about alien mind control too." "This is going to be messy. The media is going to have a field day if we show up and run roughshod over a member of the Kennedy dynasty." Cammy glanced at Thibor, interrupting his response. "There's no need for you to use that particular useful four letter word to display your sensitivity to the reactions of the American media." "No need at all." Thibor grinned. "Is feeling ready for round two?" "Rather." Cammy took the duffel bag that Thibor handed her and began to root through it. She brought out a grenade launcher with an overlarge barrel. "You always bring me the nicest gifts." "Check out the rounds." Thibor urged. "Is high strength incendiary shells, with double strength explosive payload. Is not allowed to use on humans according to Geneva convention." "Fortunately that doesn't apply to corpses, does it? Especially those without the good sense to stay tucked away." Cammy smiled and sighted down the barrel. "Well that rotter doesn't follow Marquis of Queensbury rules, so he deserves this." "That rotter?" Thibor had to laugh. "Is strange collusion of idiom and reality." "Make fun of my idiom again and there will be a strange collusion between my foot and your bottom." Cammy issued the mock warning. She set the grenade launcher aside and dug further into the duffel bag. She brought out her uniform and combat harness and laid them out neatly on the floor. A puzzled expression crossed her face as she brought a cast iron fry pan out from the bottom of the duffel. "Is like this." Thibor intercepted the question before it was asked. "If is drunken Irish fairy, then is highly vulnerable to iron. Old style fry pan is best place to find cold iron in modern world." "Thibor," Cammy shook her head slightly. "Don't you feel that it would be a rather stunning blow to the suffragette movement, not to mention woman's equality in general, if I am seen beating up a U.S. Senator with a fry-pan.." "I think the movement will forgive you. Besides, fry pan is for me." Thibor opened one of the thigh pockets of his pants and tossed a small container to Cammy. "Is needing to spread this on. Will protect you against Irish fairy glamour. Is mixture of Rosemary, gravemoss and salt in binding of fat. Will want some on forehead and over heart." "It will have to wait until I get properly attired." Cammy placed the container on her uniform. "And before you ask, I am quite well enough to spread it on myself." IST Headquarters, London. "For the last time Bitterbuck!" Captain O'Neil sprayed saliva as he bellowed. "I want you to activate XQ457AT-Tango-Bravo!" Simon sighed deeply and counted backwards from ten. He added another five numbers just to be sure. O'Neil looked like he hadn't slept in days and there was an animal panic lurking behind his eyes. A muscle in his cheek was twitching with a regular, nervous cadence and he was glancing back over his shoulder frequently. "Captain. There is no IST contingency plan by that number. All contingency plans for meta-human action begin with the prefix QZ. Are you sure you have the number right." He paused to remove his glasses and wipe the small dots of O'Neil's spittle from them. "What does it deal with?" "Don't tell me what I already know." O'Neil raged. "It's the one you are supposed to use when Thibor goes berserk. The Colonel wants it activated now. And I do mean now." "Oh, you mean plan QZ462AT-Tango-Bravo." Naoko cut in. Her freckled features were serious, but Simon could tell that it was all she could do to keep from laughing. "Right away." She made several blindingly fast keystrokes on her keyboard. "Well good then." O'Neil seemed visibly relieved. "So everything is under control." "Oh!." Naoko said. "I need the special authorization passcode to activate it. Colonel Byrd told you that you would have to give it didn't he?" "He mentioned it." O'Neil was sweating again. "Oh good." Naoko said. "So if I can just have your American Express Card number and expiration date." "What? Oh, of course." O'Neil reached for his wallet and read out the numbers. "Thank you Captain." Naoko said. "The plan has been activated. Your account will be charged 34 pounds. Just submit your statement to the Colonel along with the exact time of the transaction and you will be reimbursed." "Of course. That will be all." O'Neil looked both relived and annoyed. "You could learn something about efficiency from her Bitterbuck." He stomped out the operations center, slamming the door loudly as he went. "His credit card number?" Simon had to laugh. "So what's for dinner?" "I ordered from that Greek take-out place Thibor was talking about, gyros with salad, rice, potatoes and moussaka for me, same for you, but I added in those awful lamb chops with lemon that you like. Delivery guaranteed in 30 minutes." Naoko was practically drooling. "Sounds good." Simon nodded. "So what is this about plan QZ462AT-Tango-Bravo? If Thibor did go berserk, Colonel Byrd would be on the first plane with a high-powered sniper rifle and a pocketful of silver bullets." "Yep." Naoko said. "I know that, you know that, Thibor and Cammy know that. The rest of the team knows that. Three quarters of the western world knows that. In fact the only person who doesn't know just walked out of here and bought us dinner." "It was nice of him." Simon admitted. "So Byrd fed him a false plan, he can't find it so he feeds it to us." "And he won't admit to messing things up, so he won't file a claim for the charge, or even mention it again." Naoko finished. "We really don't appreciate him enough." "I'd like to appreciate my foot into his gut." Simon admitted. "But he has his uses. One thing is bothering me though. Why did he give a false order to have Thibor beaten?" Naoko was about to say something, but was interrupted by the harsh ring of the operations phone. "Operations." Simon put the call on speakerphone. "Simon. Is needing a favor." Thibor's voice issued from the speaker. "Is a bit outside of normal parameters." "Can do." Simon cracked his fingers and turned to face his keyboard. "Thibor." Naoko cut in. "What would IST do if you went berserk?" "Byrd would be on first plane with sniper rifle and pocketful of silver bullets." Thibor said. "Why? Is booking tickets and dragging out guide book to fine New England hunting?" "No." Simon cut in. "What's the op?" "Is wanting you to leak information to media. Is wanting multiple poisons poured in multiple ears. Is forcing press conference. Story is this, is threat to President's daughter and protection of daughter is being overseen by Senator Ted Kennedy. If is looking for source of leak, is an agent involved with investigation." Thibor paused to think about whose career he wanted to ruin, there were so many choices. "Special Agent Bloom." Boston Common: "Which one of you useless cray-tins is responsible? "This wasn't supposed to happen." Spit sprayed about as Senator Kennedy raged through the hotel lobby. He calmed himself with visible effort. "Sir. The media have gathered outside. They are expecting some sort of statement." Agent Bloom offered. "Fine." Kennedy said. "But I want your two boys covering me. That monstah is still at large." "They're outside keeping a lookout for Sawchyk and Hoyle." Bloom said. "Sir, I don't know how this happened.?" "You had better find out or else." The senator threatened. "And you don't want to know what the or else is." Stepping out in the storm of camera flashes and prodding microphones, Senator Kennedy straightened his jacket, and with slow, deliberate motions, drew a quickly drafted speech from his pocket. "Ladies and gentlemahn." His New England drawl was pitched low and the crowd immediately calmed, taken in by its soothing, hypnotic tone. "Through the unfailing efforts and sacrifices of the US Government, we have located the perpahtrator of these horrible crimes and even now, our agents are actively tracking them down. The murderer is International Super Teams agent Thibor Sawchyk. We suspect that he is aided in his brutal actions by his superior, Lieutenant Colonel Hoyle, who is somehow being controlled by this heinous beast. All efforts are being made to apprehend this dangerous creature before he can kill again." The crowd swayed as the voice rolled over them. It felt warm and comfortable, like a favorite uncle coming to visit. Louie shook his head. Warm and comfortable was his leather chair in the den, with a warm fire and a good cup of coffee. He inhaled deeply. The scent of the ointment on his chest and forehead cleared his head immediately. He stepped forward and addressed the podium. "Gerault Lewis from the Paris Charogne" Louie raised his hand. "Senator Kennedy, is it true that you deliberately set up IST agents Hoyle and Sawchyk to take the fall for murders that you yourself committed?" "What!? That Sir is preposterous." Kennedy's eyes began shifting left and right. "Non, it is not." Louie continued, his voice carrying easily to the crowd. "You are not Senator Kennedy, but a foul creature inhabiting the remains of his body." The assembled reporters drew in a collective breath. Whether it would result in a laugh or further accusations was never resolved as a huge explosion echoed from the edge of the Common. Boston Common - Moments Earlier. "There they are." Thibor inclined his head to the two figures lurking ominously in the shadow of a large brownstone. "Very well." Cammy slid a shell into the barrel of the grenade launcher and closed the weapon with a flourish. "Here's the plan. You will take care of the big one. I will take care of the really big one. Go." Thibor and Cammy leapt from the roof. Carnifex's reflexes were good enough that he was able to spot the blur of motion leap out of the way. He rolled back to his feet and squared off against Thibor. "You're going down." Carnifex moved his fists in a complex pattern, trying to draw Thibor's attention. Thibor ignored the ploy, it was the silver shod heels and toes of Carnifex's boots which were the danger, not his hands. "By the time I get finished, you'll be wishing they drowned you in the sack with the rest of the litter." "What is black, blue and white and floats face down in Boston Harbour?" Thibor countered, brandishing his long, clawed fingers. Carnifex was extremely dangerous, even more so in that he was armed with silver. Thibor did have one advantage. Carnifex was virtually unkillable, and given time could heal from even the most crippling of injuries. There would be no need to hold back. "Hiyah!" The silver shod toecap blasted towards Thibor's head, cracking the bones under eye as it struck home. Thibor turned towards the pain, his powerful jaws closing down on Carnifex's exposed knee. Thibor's mouth filled with blood as he bore down with all his strength, twisting his powerful neck back and forth as he shook Carnifex like a terrier shaking a rat. Carnifex tried to bring his other foot into play, but Thibor was ready for it and caught it in a great clawed hand. Carnifex exploded in a torrent of profanity at the same moment that Thibor's teeth met. With a final shake, Thibor tossed Carnifex down with enough force to crater the pavement. The martial artist's lower right leg had been nearly severed at the knee and was being held on by the few scraps of muscle and tendon that had not been severed by Thibor's attack. "Fuck!" Carnifex managed from between clenched teeth. They were nice teeth, Thibor noted as he stomped on them, twisting his foot so as to tear the soft flesh of Carnifex's lips and cheeks against the jagged remnants. The battered martial artist was still game and smashed his fists against Thibor's ankle. It was no good as he lacked the leverage to do any damage. Raising his foot again, Thibor brought it down on Carnifex's sternum. The sound was not unlike the time Uriko had pounced on a bucket of Kentucky Fried chicken in a fit of feral hunger. Cammy deliberately ignored the battle going on behind her and concentrated on staying one step ahead of Cyptkicker's wild swings. Whenever the opportunity presented itself, she fired her needle pistol into the center of the living corpse's chest. The armor-piercing needles shredded the flesh with little result, save for the small bursts of combustible, corrosive acid which served the undead super-agent in lieu of blood. "Y'all is going to have to do better than that." Crypt kicker taunted, his fist pulverizing bricks as it narrowly missed Cammy's head and slammed into the wall next to her. "Fair enough." Cammy acknowledged. She reached over her shoulder and brought out the grenade launcher. "I think you've been softened up enough." The grenade launcher made an almost comical 'bloop' noise as it spat out the shell into the center of Cyptkicker's chest. Rather than bounce off the toughened flesh, it sank with a messy splortch sound into the area softened up by the repeated needler shots. As Cryptkicker stared dumbly at the smoking hole in his chest, Cammy blurred into motion, diving past the stunned agent and ducking behind a large metal dumpster. "Fire in the hole!" She called out. The fuse on the grenade had a three second delay. "Aww shit. Not again." Cyptkicker began toppling backwards as his body realized that his heart had been crushed. He never made it to the ground. The shell embedded in his chest exploded violently, the incendiary charge lit off Cryptkicker's blood, resulting in an even more violent explosion. The southern Zombie's torso was violently torn free of his legs and splattered against the walls of the alley. "Good riddance to bad rubbish. Serves you right." Cammy peaked around the dumpster, or rather the half of the dumpster that remained, the other halve having been melted by the fiery, acidic explosion. She paused. Cryptkicker's head, the cowboy hat smoking, but still intact, rolled past her, stopping up against a pair of garbage cans. The eyes rolled around, eventually focusing on her. "Shiiittfuccck." Bereft of a throat or lungs, the voice was barely a whisper , the scorched, rotten cheeks puffed like bellows as they shaped the word. It was probably more effort than the sentiment deserved. "Nice shot." Thibor commented as he casually kicked the head out of the way. "Thank you." Cammy's features held a mixture of disgust and elation. "Are you finished?" "No." Thibor admitted, gesturing to where Carnifex was still writhing on the ground. "But is not going anywhere." Whunk! Thibor's eyes glazed over and he stumbled forward. Cammy caught him, her muscles straining to hold the huge werewolf upright. "Gotcha!" Carnifex grated through broken teeth before collapsing back onto the ground. Cammy's eyes widened as she saw the source of the injury. The martial artist has torn away his nearly severed lower leg and hurled it at the werewolf like a fleshy boomerang. The silver heel had impacted squarely with the back of Thibor's skull. Fortunately the bones were not broken and Thibor roused back to full consciousness almost immediately. "Okay. Am impressed." Thibor noted, realizing the source of the injury. He picked up the leg, slipped the boot from it and tossed it back to Carnifex. "Let's finish this." The pair ran to the mouth of the alley. Every eye and television camera had turned their way. Without pausing, Thibor and Cammy charged directly towards the podium. As they reached the edge of the crowd they leapt in unison, easily clearly the thronged mass and landing lightly on the stage. "Kill the monster!" Senator Kennedy backpedalled as quickly as his awkward bulk allowed. "Don't let him near me." "Go scriosa an Bhadhbh do chroí! Do chorp don diabhal! Loscadh is dó ort! D'anam don diabhal! Titim gan éirí ort!" Thibor commanded roughly. He tossed down a handful of salt and iron filings. "Feis ort Cac capaill!" Senator Kennedy's features seemed to melt away, going from a booze fuelled red to the putrid paleness of drowned flesh. The bloated patrician features pushed forward, taking on the profile of a nag's head. The scent of rotting fish rolled out over the crowd. "Is over." Thibor announced. "Leave this world." "Never." The kelpie glared defiantly through dead, fishy eyes. Water erupted from hydrants around the common, the geysers twisting into a single stream which smashed into the werewolf's back. "They are mine to feed on. Mine! Mine! Mine!" "Not anymore." Thibor grated as the battering stream of water flayed his back like a scourge. "It's useless to resist." Kennedy crowed. The water slashing at Thibor began to turn pink as the werewolf's blood was pulled from the wounds. "I will draw out every drop of blood from your body. You have no weapon of cold iron!. You cannot slay me! Ha! Ha! Ha!" He was still laughing when Cammy appeared behind him and brought down the cast iron fry-pan in a whistling arc. The horse head collapse and gouts of black ichor sprayed out. The senator's body seemed to shrink in on itself, the flesh sloughing away into corruption. In seconds all that remained of the Senator was an expensive suit, a pool of black bile and the scent of rotting fish. The waterspout scourging Thibor splashed onto the ground. "Another first for Britain." Thibor noted. "Is not first blonde to bang a Kennedy, but is first to use fry-pan." "Feel free to put a sock in it Major." Cammy said archly. "I take it you aren't hurt badly?" "Is fine." Thibor said. "Who gets to explain this?" Cammy pondered the question for the millisecond it deserved. Thibor was dying to address the media, but this was not the time for blunt pronouncements on the situation. Discretion was necessary. With some trepidation she approached the podium. "Ladies and gentlemen." Cammy spoke with the crisp tone of calm, reasoned command. "If you will bear with me, I will shed some light on recent events..." The White House - Washington DC This is unexpected. Cammy thought to herself. The last few hours had been a whirlwind of activity. After her impromptu speech, it had come down that they were to brief, and be debriefed by US intelligence. A potential oxymoron that seemed more and more likely as the hours wore on. Thibor had been increasingly quiet. He obviously understood her reluctance to leave certain details out of her reports, and supported her in it, but didn't like it. Neither did she. Compared to Buckingham Palace, the White House seemed somewhat tacky, and the Oval Office, even more so. Even without the benefit of Thibor's enhanced senses, she could pick up the hint of Budweiser that surrounded the President as he spoke about recent events. He didn't seem overly concerned that members of his government had deliberately covered up murder for over thirty years, only that it not be mentioned. "I will expect Y'all to keep quiet on this matter. Y'all don't have to like it, but sometimes America demands that her citizens make sacrifices." The President drawled. "In their own way they are heroes." "Are heroes because bunch of lying weasels are protecting their own?" Thibor growled. "You knew what he was, what he was doing. Could have stopped him, but is letting him keep killing to save your own skin. Is even letting him near own daughters." "Ah see we are disagreementing on this one, but if you understood the bigger picture you would see." "Am betting your big picture is drawn with crayons." Thibor snorted. "And then Uncle Dick sticks it on the fridge with cow- shaped magnet." The barb apparently struck home, and the President flushed a bright red and took a step forward, beer goggles engaged and fists tightly clenched. Thibor wasn't as physically impressive in his human form, and the President wasn't coherent enough to recognize the danger. "You know something, I don't care what you think!" Spittle flew as the blank, bland features became ugly with spite. "Yeah, we protected our own asses, and you know why? Because we're the ones that matter. Fuck the rest of 'em. Hell, fuck you too and fuck that snotty Brit bitch right in her..." The President was unable to finish the statement as Thibor stepped forward, and smashed his fist into the ugly face. As the man reeled backwards, Thibor moved forward, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him into a wall. He added a head butt for good measure, opening a cut along the bridge of the President's nose. The doors to the oval office banged open and a pair of Secret Service agents jumped in, their hands going for their guns. "It's okay..." The President managed. "Guests...just...leaving." He collapsed to his knees and vomited an impressive stream of bile over the eagle that decorated the carpet. IST Transport Coeur D'Amour - Somewhere over the Atlantic "I still can't believe you punched the President of the United States in the face." Cammy said. "No. I can believe you did it. I am just rather shocked that you got away with it." "Am sure they will keep it quiet." Thibor shrugged and draped an arm around her shoulder. "Will probably tell everyone that he choked on a pretzel and banged his head on floor or something." ***************