"Two to three days," Merrit answered. "A week before they'll have any chance at self-sufficiency by killing small game, such as rats, dogs, or cats, and scavenging garbage. They'll be eighty percent grown in a month. Able to mate in two months. Full grown at four months."
"When will they be a threat to humans?"
Merrit shrugged. "That's hard to say. Individually I would say in a month. But I'd hate to run into a pack of week-old Synbats working in concert."
"If we stumble onto their lair in the next four or five days, then we ought to get all the young ones, right?"
"We should, unless they've split forces and have more than one hiding place."
That stopped Riley for a second. It's what he would do if he were in the Synbats' position. "You think they'd do that?"
"I hope not, but they split up in Tennessee in order to survive," Merrit reminded him. "There's no reason why they wouldn't do it again."
Riley backtracked. "If we get all three adults in the next four days and eliminate them, the young would starve?"
"Unless the old ones have left an adequate supply of food for the young ones."
"Damn," Riley cursed. "They already tried that once with the horses back in the LBL, so I guess they'll do it again."
Merrit nodded. "Now you're beginning to see the magnitude of the problem. Not only that, but don't forget that the adults are capable of breeding again. With only a ten-day gestation period, we could see another generation of Synbats born early in the week after next."
"I know all that," Riley remarked irritably. "I'm more worried about the fact that they always seem to be one step ahead of us. We need them to make a mistake, or we need a hell of a lot of luck, and I don't like working that way. The problem I'm having with all this — " He paused as Colonel Lewis strode up.
"Lieutenant Giannini just called. She says she has something you might be interested in. I'll take your men and start the search while you go downtown." He tossed a portable phone to Riley. "Stay in touch. Clear?"
"Yes, sir." He turned to Merrit. "Let's roll."
Giannini was dipping a doughnut in a cup of coffee when Riley and Merrit appeared at her door. She waved the dripping pastry at them, gesturing for them to come in. "Grab a seat."
Riley glanced around, then stepped back out to drag in an extra chair, while Merrit took the only one available. A silence ensued, broken only by the sound of the detective eating her breakfast. Riley looked around, taking in the files piled here and there and the overflowing garbage can. There were a few plaques on the wall and Riley read the nearest, a commendation for bravery while breaking up a bank robbery. Riley returned his gaze to Giannini and she was looking at him. Their eyes locked for a long second.
Giannini broke contact first, pointing at the grungy coffeepot sitting on top of her filing cabinet. "Want some?"
Merrit shook her head, but Riley stood and poured himself a plastic cup full of the dark liquid. He took a sip and grimaced at the gritty taste. "What have you got?"
Giannini kicked back in her seat, sipping out of a cracked mug. "Nothing solid. Just been wandering around the station house that covers the district where your killers disappeared. I was there earlier this morning when the shifts changed." She grinned, laugh lines appearing around her dark eyes. "You want to find out what's happening on the streets, you just hang around the locker room."
"The locker room?" Merrit asked.
"Yeah," Giannini said. She smiled again. "Don't worry, they ain't got nothing in there I haven't seen before." She put down the mug. Merrit didn't react to the remark. "Anyway. There were two guys talking about some old bum who'd been nagging them when they were trying to walk their beat. He was all upset 'cause his shopping cart got stolen."
"So?" Riley prompted.
"Well, the bum said that he'd left it parked near his 'home' — some of these people are very territorial — and a — get this — a 'gorilla' — that was his word — stole his cart."
Riley sat forward. "A gorilla? What did it look like?"
Giannini shrugged. "That was all they had."
"Can we find this bum?" Riley asked.
She shook her head. "I doubt it. There's probably dozens of homeless in that area, and the two guys didn't remember much about what the fellow looked like. I know the place they were talking about, though. It's about eight blocks from where the truck was left."
"Can we go there?"
Giannini stood up, strapping on a large-caliber revolver in a shoulder holster.
Sergeant Major Powers read the latest message from Riley, then tore it into little pieces and burned it in his trash can. The other members of the battalion headquarters staff were just arriving after having spent the last several hours conducting physical training, getting cleaned up, and eating breakfast.
With a slight limp, Powers went to the door and made his way to the Group headquarters building. He knocked once on the commander's door and entered. Stopping the appropriate two paces in front of the desk, he saluted and waited.
Colonel Hossey looked up from the papers spread across his desk. "What's the latest?"
"They're set up in Chicago. Riley thinks the Synbats have holed up there in an abandoned building. He feels they will most likely not find them until the Synbats themselves make contact."
"Shit," Hossey muttered. "Anything else?"
"No, sir. I know where Riley and his men are located and the phone number at that location."
"All right. I want you to keep two teams on alert status, ready to roll with fifteen minutes' notice. Live ammunition, civilian clothes — you know the deal."
"Yes, sir."
"I'll have a Blackhawk from the aviation platoon ready to fly. You call out to the airfield and talk to the pilot in command. Make sure you can get hold of him."
"Yes, sir."
"Carry on."
"This was the street the two officers were walking," Giannini said as she pulled the unmarked car over to the curb, next to a hydrant. "The homeless person could have come out of any of these side streets."
Riley looked around. It reminded him of the South Bronx, his home. There were numerous small shops on the ground floors of the buildings, just opening to greet the day's customers. The upper floors contained apartments. The side streets led to other apartment buildings and businesses. Several of the buildings were abandoned, some burned out.
"Let's take a walk," Riley said as he opened his door. Giannini and Merrit followed.
As he walked the sidewalks and filthy alleyways, Riley lost hope of ever tracking down the Synbats. There were just too many places for them to hide. He looked up at all the broken windows peering over his head like so many eyes; the creatures could be hiding behind any one of them.
Even if he did stumble across the Synbats, Riley was none too sure that he and his men could stop them. Knutz's and T-bones's M16s hadn't been found, which meant that the Synbats most likely still had them, along with the combat vests containing extra ammunition. Despite Ward's claims that the Synbats had not been taught to reload, Riley didn't want to test them on that.
After two hours of wandering, Riley could sense Giannini's impatience. They'd exchanged barely twenty words the entire time.
Finally, Giannini halted outside a local delicatessen. "Let's get some lunch."
Riley acquiesced, and they went into the small store. He was surprised when Giannini spoke in Italian to the proprietor. The two seemed to know each other and conversed rapidly as the old man sliced the meat and cheese for the sandwiches they had ordered. When the three large submarines were laid on the countertop, Riley insisted on paying, and Giannini didn't even pretend to argue. They took a table near the front window as the lunchtime crowd started to surge in.