“There,” Loco said softly. That made Horst do a double take. It was the first time he could recall that the big man had spoken since they’d left Chicago. The hospital had lights, the only sign of life since they’d hit the city limits. There were emergency vehicles in the parking lot, including a single fire truck, its blue and red flashers barely visible through the caked-on slush.
Lins visibly hesitated when he saw a parked police car, barely even visible under the collected snow, but then he relaxed. Instinct would’ve told him to avoid the police when driving around with a car full of machine guns, but it was like Horst said. It was hard to come to terms with the idea that this kind of awesome shit was actually legal. They slid to a stop behind the fire truck that had copper county volunteer fire department painted on it in big letters. A few windows on the top floor of the hospital were broken and blackened, like there’d been a fire.
“I think we might be a little late,” Jo Ann said. “Too bad Larry drove so slow.”
Lins turned around. “You better shut your mouth, Jo, or I’ll shut it for you.”
Horst scowled. “You guys stay here. I’m gonna check it out.” He zipped his coat up to his throat and got out, leaving his crew free to yell at each other. If he was lucky, nobody would get stabbed or shot while he was gone.
It was so unbelievably cold that he almost jumped back inside. Ice crystals instantly flowed up his sleeves, down his neck, and cut right through his jeans. He was shocked that anyone was tough or crazy enough to live here. This made the Windy City feel like Maui. Horst hurried for the front door, but slipped on some ice and fell on his side. Getting up and dusting himself off, he glanced back toward the Caddy, because if he saw anybody laughing at his expense, he was going to cut their face off. Lucky for them, nobody was laughing.
It appeared that everyone in the hospital had been evacuated to the lobby. Most of them were dressed like they were patients, in bathrobes or wrapped in blankets. Some, in scrubs or sweaters, looked like they worked here, and there were a couple of guys in black and yellow rubber fireman’s coats. Two men stood right in the entrance, like they were trying not to be overheard by everyone else. One of the firemen was arguing with a tough-looking, big, bald man, dripping wet, in a suit and tie. Horst came through the door partway through the disagreement.
The fireman noted Horst’s arrival. The sudden blast of freezing air was hard to miss. He turned back and continued his argument. “I’m not moving those bodies anywhere until the sheriff says so.”
The dude in the dirty suit poked the fireman in the chest with one meaty finger. “Listen very carefully, asswipe. See this?” He pointed at the ID pinned to his lapel. “That says Department of Homeland Security, and we’ve got ourselves a terrorist incident. I am the law, and I say I want all those bodies stacked in one room. I want the door locked, and nobody messes with them until my people get here, or I will make it my personal mission in life to ruin you in ways that your little brain can’t even comprehend. You hearing me, dickhead?”
The fireman was obviously ticked off, but also unsure of himself. “I want to talk to somebody from the sheriff’s department first.”
“Well, feel free to try and find one,” the government man answered. “They aren’t exactly picking up the phone. Until then, get your ass up there and start stacking bodies, and I want all the pieces kept together, too. I don’t want so much as a toenail missing or I’ll toss you headfirst in a jail so deep and dark that your lawyer will need a spelunking expedition just to find you. You will not talk to anyone about what you see. You say one word about anything, and I will descend down on your head with the full weight and authority of a giant government that fully does not give a shit and will crush you like a bug. Capice?”
Defeated, the fireman stomped off toward the stairs. Looking smug, the dude in the suit turned to Horst. “Who the hell are you?” he asked.
Horst put on his most professional business-type smile, crossed the distance, and stuck out his hand. It was all about authority and presentation, or at least that’s what the self-help books said. “Agent Stark, I presume? Ryan Horst, Briarwood Eradication Services.”
Stark nodded, looking at the proffered hand, but didn’t extend his own. “You’re late.”
“Better late than never.” Horst kept his hand out, still smiling. The Fed was annoyed, but grudgingly shook Horst’s hand anyway. Stark had hands the size of boxing gloves, but Horst wasn’t the type that was intimidated about such things.
Agent Stark released Horst’s hand and glanced over to make sure the firemen had gone upstairs like he’d ordered. “Somebody saw the explosion and ran over and woke them up. Local PD is missing. Some of them are dead upstairs, and it wasn’t like they had too many to begin with.”
“What’ve we got here?” Horst asked, because that sounded like the logical thing for a professional monster hunter to ask.
“A real mess. Multiple casualties, infected running free, no comms, no idea where the creature that started all this is, and…” His head swiveled on his pot-roast neck, checking for listeners. “I’ve got another issue you might be able to help me with. I’d prefer for my partner not to know you’re here. It’s a sensitive issue. Walk with me, Mr. Horst.”
Horst followed Stark to a side room, which turned out to be a large storage closet. Stark closed the door behind them. Horst realized that the lights must be on emergency juice, because the lone lightbulb in the narrow space was remarkably dim. Stark was sweating. “How high up are you in Briarwood, Mr. Horst?”
I own it, stupid, he thought, but Stark didn’t need to know how small they were. “Management. I’m a team commander. I’m authorized to make any necessary decisions or business arrangements, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“You’re younger than I expected.”
Horst was twenty-six, but it wasn’t the age, it was the mileage, and he’d done things that would curdle the blood of men twice his age. “Let’s just say that I’ve been promoted because of my exemplary record. I get results, Agent Stark.”
“Good.” Stark leaned on a shelf and took a deep breath. Once past his hesitation, the agent plowed ahead. “I’ve got a business idea for you. Way beyond my previous arrangement with your company. I’m talking about something big. Something that could make both of us a ton of money. What I’m about to suggest doesn’t leave this room, you got me?”
“I’m listening,” Horst answered. He knew that Stark was dirty, completely untrustworthy, and if it wasn’t for the extremity of their circumstances he would have assumed that this was some kind of elaborate setup. It was doubtful that Stark was wearing a wire.
“Do you know what the PUFF would be for a werewolf over a hundred years old?”
The Perpetual Unearthly Forces Fund bounty tables cut off way before that. The amount would be astronomical. “Is that a joke?”
“What if I told you there was a century-old werewolf here in Copper Lake, right this minute?”
Horst played it cool. Stark had gone mad. “If I was talking to anyone other than a respected senior MCB agent…” I’d call you a liar and curb stomp your head in. “I’d say you might be exaggerating.”
Stark smiled. “You think I’m full of it, huh? Understandable. I had the same reaction the first time I heard about him. He’s only alive because he’s been granted PUFF immunity for some top-secret reason.”
“If he’s got immunity, then where do I come in?” Horst folded his arms. This sounded like a load of garbage. He’d pulled sharper cons before he’d hit puberty.
“He’s only immune if he obeys the rules, which means acting like a regular human and no crazy werewolf shit. But I’m afraid that our werewolf has gone on a rampage. He’s the cause of tonight’s troubles. He created another werewolf, and who knows how many others. He attacked me and escaped before I could apprehend him. If I could get word to the rest of the MCB they’d come down on him like a ton of bricks. We’ve been itching to get the green light to take him out forever, but our hands have been tied…If somebody were to take him while I was unable to get hold of the MCB, they’d be heroes.”