The Cerberus Protocol (Hellstalkers Science Fiction Horror Series) Page 7

  But it might have been fun to try.

  One by one, the teens all went screaming down the sides of the half tubes, working their routines. But it was when Memphis noticed one skater apart from the others, grinding his board along the top edge of the park, that he smiled.

  Ulf was older than the rest of the kids - with longish brown hair and several earrings in his right ear - but the others didn’t seem to mind. And now Memphis saw why. As Ulf stood with the back of his board on the lip and the rest jutting out into space, he held his hand up and then adjusted his ear buds. Memphis saw him start nodding his head in time to some piece of music and then he simply vanished down into the tube.

  The next time Memphis saw him was when he came erupting out of the pipe, spiraling as he did before dropping back in again. It went on like that for almost forty seconds as Ulf worked an amazing array of aerials, flips, and grinds. Memphis found himself smiling like a fool as he enjoyed the display of aerobatics.

  When Ulf finally drew his routine to a close, the other kids erupted in applause. Ulf came out of the pipe and sat down. From the pocket of his cargo pants, he took out a small tool and started fiddling with one of the wheels on his board.

  Now’s as good a time as any, Memphis thought.

  He got out of the car and walked over.

  Ulf’s eyes lanced through him through at twenty yards. Even from there, Memphis could see there was an edge. Ulf might be a skater boy, but he was still a soldier. And a KSK operator was the best German soldier there was.

  Memphis slowed down and raised his hand. "You’re Ulf Schwarzwalder, right?"

  Ulf said nothing. But Memphis knew he spoke English fluently, so he continued. "You got a sec? I’d like to talk to you about something."

  Ulf frowned. "Keep your hands where I can see them, GI Joe. Last I checked, I haven’t done anything to piss off Uncle Sam. But you guys never seem to need much of an excuse."

  Memphis kept his hands out and squatted down. He was still ten feet from Ulf. "How’s it going?"

  Ulf stopped working on the wheel and eyed Memphis. "Really, man? That’s what you come at me with? Far out." He smirked. "Go for it, dude."

  Memphis sighed. Ulf was known for speaking like he’d been frozen during the height of the Hippie craze and thawed out in time for the X-Games.

  "What I meant to ask you was, how do you like working for the KSK?"

  Ulf held up his hand. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, dude. Don’t go tossing that name around here, man." He looked around trying to determine if Memphis had blown his cover. "These dudes like me just fine as one of them. They don’t know what I did before I started hanging out here. And I like that vibe. No need to bring the harsh reality into my play time, you dig?"

  "Sorry," said Memphis.

  "Who are you, anyway, dude? You’re way too uptight to be specops. What’s your gig? I mean, I get you’re Army and all, but what’s the deal?"

  "Ex-Army," said Memphis.

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah. They chucked me out."

  "Bad karma, man," said Ulf. "What’d you do to piss them off?"

  "I told the truth."

  Ulf smirked. "Let me guess: someone higher up in rank than you didn’t like the fact that you opened his closet and dragged out his bone work." He nodded. "It’s cool, man. I can dig the whole honor thing. You tried to do right and got screwed anyway. Happens to the best of us."

  Memphis thought about the firefight at CERN. The images of the bodies of his men and the blood dripping from the walls flashed through his mind. He blinked and saw Ulf looking at him.

  "Dude, you okay?"

  "Uh...yeah." Memphis exhaled.

  "You look like someone just fed you some bad shrooms, man. Slow down and take a deep breath."

  Memphis shook his head. "No time."

  "There’s always time, bro," said Ulf. He held up his board. "You ride? Might make those problems of yours seem a world away if you spent some time in the pipe."

  Memphis smirked. "That’s exactly the problem."

  "What is?"

  "My problems. They are a world away. Probably several worlds, in fact."

  Ulf eyed him. "You sure that court martial wasn’t about you being loony? ’Cuz you are starting to freak me out a little, man."

  "Can I ask you a question?"

  Ulf shrugged. "Gotta figure you’re going to anyway."

  "You believe in demons? Monsters? Things that can’t be explained?"

  "I’m having a hard time believing this conversation," said Ulf. "Does that count?"

  "I’m being serious." Memphis took a breath. "I need your help."

  "What-fighting demons?" Ulf laughed and went back to fiddling with the wheels on his board. But when Memphis didn’t say anything, Ulf looked back up.

  Slowly.

  "Dude, you’re not saying anything like ’no way.’"

  Memphis nodded. "You’re right. I’m not."

  Ulf looked at him. "Demons? For real, dude?"

  "You still happy working with the-" He stopped. "Your unit?"

  Ulf shrugged. "Only place I know where I can be exactly who I want to be."

  "Which is what?"

  "A badass skateboarder, dude. And someone who kills bad guys, too."

  "Interesting juxtaposition you got there," said Memphis. "You ever find yourself conflicted about the peace and love and bullets?"

  Ulf shook his head. "Gotta nail the bad guys so we can have more peace and love, bro. No conflict there, as far as I can see."

  "And where do, let’s call them otherworldly beings, fall into that paradigm of yours?"

  Ulf shrugged. "Depends."

  "On what?"

  "On if they’re into Reese’s Pieces or pieces of people."

  "Say they’re into the latter."

  "Then game on, dude. Kill the fuckers."

  Memphis sat down on the pavement. "I’m offering you a job. Come work with me."

  Ulf glanced at him. "You gonna kill, uh, otherworldly beings?"

  "That’s the plan."

  Ulf shook his head. "Man, you look like just lost your cherry a week ago or something."

  Memphis felt his stomach drop. Was it that obvious? "What do you mean?"

  Ulf sighed. "You’re no killer, man. You’re not hard like the professionals I know. They’ve got that edge. I look at you and I see a lot of unresolved shit in there." He shrugged. "How many kills you figure you’ve got?"

  Memphis swallowed. "I don’t know."

  Ulf nodded. "And I’m supposed to follow you into combat? Man, that’s nuts. I do some crazy shit on this board, but I’m in control of my own destiny. I know what I’m capable of. But you...I don’t know you. You come here with your pressed corduroys and looking all-proper Army and I think you’ve never seen the business end of a rifle. I’m not selling my life that cheaply, dude. Sorry."

  Memphis frowned. "I was at CERN."

  Ulf shrugged. "So?"

  "So, you hear what happened there?"

  Ulf shook his head. "Some type of industrial accident. Couple dead. Serves them right for trying to mess with that shit. Should have left the god stuff to the man upstairs."

  "Yeah, well, they didn’t," said Memphis. "And now, there’s a hole."

  "A hole?"

  "More like a doorway," said Memphis. "And a lot of uninvited stuff is coming through."

  Ulf grinned. "Demons."

  Memphis nodded. "Exactly. I was there. First unit sent in to see what the hell had happened. You tell me you think I haven’t seen combat and you’re pretty close to being right. Until that time, I hadn’t seen any."

  "But-?"

  "But I saw it that day. And I didn’t think I was going to survive it."

  Ulf stopped fiddling with the wheel. "How many died?’

  Memphis looked away. "A lot more than you heard about. More than anyone heard about. That’s why they got rid of me. That’s why I’m recruiting for a special team to go and hunt those...things down and make sure they don’t kill
anybody else."

  Ulf sighed and looked at the pipe. The teens were laughing and going nuts for each routine. "I’ve got a life here, man. Happy. Content. All’s right with the world, dude."

  Memphis shook his head. "No, Ulf, all’s not right with the world. We’re being invaded. And I’m asking for your help to put a stop to it."

  Ulf was quiet for a second. "How many on the team?"

  "Right now?"

  "Yeah."

  Memphis thought about using Trent’s answer on him, then decided against it. Ulf was skittish enough as it was.

  "Let’s just say we’re in the process of putting the team together.”

  Ulf smiled. "Now that’s what I’d expect to hear from a Yank.”

  Memphis grinned. "You’re a talented guy, Ulf. But it’s going to take more than just us to stop this thing."

  Ulf took a deep breath and stood up. "I was getting bored with killing terrorists anyway."

  Memphis got to his feet. "You’ll join?"

  Ulf looked at him. "I’m still trying to figure out your story, dude. But if you’re being straight with me, then killing demons sounds pretty freakin’ gnarly. I’m in."

  Chapter Ten

  From Germany, Memphis and Ulf caught a flight out of Berlin directly to Moscow. The next name on the list was that of Alena Beresovsky, a former Spetsnaz Vega Team member.

  Spetsnaz translated literally as special purpose forces and its various team members were similar to what you’d get if you crossed the U.S. Navy Seals and the Army Rangers. Rugged, hard-working soldiers extensively cross-trained in all manner of special operations work, they were a force to be reckoned with. According to her file, Alena had been one of the best. Her specialty was infiltration and surveillance and she was personally credited with wiping out an entire Chechen terrorist cell by infiltrating its ranks and opening fire during an unsuspecting moment when the team was gathered for a victory celebration after a successful bombing.

  Oddly, there was very little background information available on her before she joined Spetsnaz, but Memphis didn’t let it worry him too much. Everyone had a past and some, he knew, were a little less glamorous than others. If there was something to her background that was important enough for him to know about it, he was confident that Trent would have included it in the file.

  After landing at Sheremetyevo International Airport, the duo rented a car, this time a Mercedes, and headed across town to the Kropotkinsaya District, an upscale residential neighborhood also known as the Golden Mile. It sat between the Moskva River and Ostozhenka Street in central Moscow and was one of the most sought after living areas in the entire city.

  They parked outside her apartment building but didn’t make it past the doorman, who quickly turned them away when he discovered that they were not expected. For a moment Memphis had considered trying to bull his way through to the elevator, but not only had the Russian wearing the doorman’s uniform looked like he could handle himself in a fight, he also looked like he’d enjoy the chance to beat up on a Yank for a change and Memphis had decided it just wasn’t worth it.

  Instead, he and Ulf had returned to the car and settled in for a wait, knowing that Alena had to show up at some point. It was after dark, with plenty of traffic, and so they thought they’d have enough cover not to be immediately noticed.

  They should have known better than to underestimate a former Spetsnaz commando.

  About forty-five minutes into their watch, just long enough for boredom to begin seeping in and for the two of them to relax a little, the door on Memphis’s side of the car was jerked open and he was dragged out of the vehicle, yanked upright, and slammed against the car.

  One of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen shoved a razor-sharp knife against his throat and said something angrily in Russian.

  Doing his best not to move his throat any more than necessary, Memphis grinned weakly and, in English, asked, “Alena Beresovsky?”

  Her long blonde hair framed a narrow face with high cheekbones, full lips, and eyes of a pale blue that sparkled with intensity. She was dressed for the cold weather in a mink hat, coat, and leather gloves.

  “I do not know that name,” she answered almost automatically in the same language, the switch from Russian to English effortless. “Who are you and what do you want? Speak quickly before I slit your throat!”

  From inside the car, Ulf said, “Easy there, baby, no need to kill the vibe. We just want to chat a bit.”

  Alena practically snarled at that. “I am not your baby,” she said, shoving Memphis back harder against the car, pressing his spine into the edge of the doorframe. As the pain began to spread, Memphis realized he’d better take control or he was going to end up getting injured over Ulf’s out-dated speech modes.

  “My name is Memphis Stone and my comrade there in the car is Ulf Schwarzwalder, formerly of the KSK. We’re with a group known as Project Cerberus,” he replied, the words sounding funny after so many years of claiming to be U.S. Army. “We’d like to speak with you on an urgent matter and have come a long way to do so.”

  “Then you should have called first as I have no wish to speak to you,” she said. “Leave before I call the security services.”

  Trent had warned him that he might receive a harsh welcome from the beautiful Russian and had given him specific instructions on what to say and do if that happened. Without taking his gaze from her own, Memphis said, “Darius says hello and asked that you hear me out.”

  For just a moment, he thought her expression softened, but then the look was gone again as she eyed him thoughtfully. Slowly, she took the knife away from his throat and stepped back, easing the pressure against his spine in the process.

  “Groovy, baby,” Ulf said and quicker than a greased cat Alena was leaning into the car, intent on teaching Ulf some manners. Ulf met her with a blade of his own, though how he managed to get a pig-sticker like that through airport security baffled Memphis. The two commandoes stared at each other and then grinned.

  Alena slowly backed out of the car and looked at Memphis. “Him, I like,” she said, with a smile that dripped honey and venom all at the same time while pointing the knife at Ulf. “You, not so much. We shall see what we shall see. Come.”

  She waited for them to lock the car and then led them across the street and into her building. Seeing them, the doorman tensed, but Alena waved his concerns away. “It is okay, Ivan,” she said. “They are all right.”

  The big Russian doorman smiled at her, then turned to glare at Memphis as he went past.

  Ulf leaned in close and said, “Winning hearts and minds everywhere you go there, Yank,” and then danced quickly out of reach.

  Once inside Alena’s apartment, Memphis and Alena settled on seats in the living room while the ever-watchful Ulf stood by the window, looking out onto the street below. Old habits died hard it seemed.

  Memphis reached into his pocket and withdrew the envelope Trent had left in the file for him to give to Alena. He held on to it for a few moments while he gave her the same general speech that he’d given to Ulf; there’d been a highly classified accident at CERN, a portal or rift had opened between our world and somewhere else, no one was exactly sure where, and certain things had gotten through, things that needed to be taken care of quickly and efficiently. Cerberus was putting a team together to do just that and they wanted her to be a part of it.

  Then he handed the envelope to her.

  She took it without hesitation, almost as if she expected it, and tore it open. Inside was a single sheet of paper, thing enough for Memphis to see the front side was covered with a thin, spidery script. Alena stood up, said “Isvinite,” and then stepped out of the room into the kitchen.

  Ulf and Memphis looked at each other, shrugged, and waited.

  She was gone for a good fifteen minutes. Memphis was just getting ready to go look for her when she stepped back into the room, two gear bags at her feet.

  “Darius has asked me to join him at the
HQ in Maine to start planning our response to this threat while the two of you go on to Scotland to see MacIvers. You have reservations at the Novotel Sheremetyevo Hotel and a flight to Glascow in the morning.”

  Just like that HELLstalker One had grown to three.

  Chapter Eleven

  Even in the rain, Memphis decided, the Scottish highlands looked spectacular. As the wind blew through the tall grasses covering the craggy rocks and steep hills and made the pine forests shudder, Memphis felt like he was stepping back in time. The highlands made him feel like he could simply step off the edge of the world and vanish into the pages of history.

  They’d come to Northeastern Scotland to find the man Memphis hoped would agree to become the next member of their team. Next to him, Ulf peered out of the window and occasionally through out a "far out, man," when he saw something that struck him as particularly gnarly.

  Memphis kept the accelerator pressed down, determined to make the village of Dufftown by nine o’clock that night. The winding highways and byways this far north had obviously not gotten the memo about the shortest distance between two points being a straight line.

  "Now, this would be a pretty wicked place to have an alien encounter," said Ulf suddenly. "Can you picture it? A raging rainstorm and then the clouds part to reveal a starship? Very cool."

  Memphis frowned. Ulf had taken to the idea of otherworldly invasion pretty easily and sometimes seemed to be having too much fun with it. That would change when Ulf got his first taste of dealing with them.

  Still, Memphis envied him. Ulf had seen a lot of combat. Memphis would have liked to have a fraction of the man’s experience for the future. And even though he was the only one of the team to have dealt directly with the creatures to this point, he didn’t think it gave him much of an edge at all.

  Not yet.

  "You know what they call this town? The malt whiskey capital of the world." Ulf smacked his lips together. "That sounds like an invitation to experience some gnarly malts if ever there was one."

  "Try not to get drunk. We’re here on business." Memphis wheeled the Range Rover into the outskirts of Dufftown and saw signs immediately for a number of distilleries - including several well-known labels. He whistled to himself. "Looks like everyone works for the whiskey industry here."