“How does that concern you or me?” Herk asked him.
“He was one of our top bio-weapon experts,” Doctor Jay continued. “I’ll see to it you have access to his file. Harvard, MIT, the whole academia parade. The guy decided the army would let him play all the games he wanted if he gave them some basic results. They let him have his own lab after he finished his PhD. The idiots should’ve looked closer into what he was up to in that lab.” He leaned back into the chair and glared at the ceiling.
“Leon turned out to be a functional psychopath,” he continued, with a little anger in his voice. “The damn army hits every recruit with all manner of psychological tests to find out where they can use them. Understandably, they don’t want a psychopath in the ranks. A psychopath will do what they want and get everyone killed. This man turned off his moral side once he accomplished the goal of allowing the uniforms to trust him.”
“I have this feeling this is what you want me to fix,” Herk spoke up. He cracked his knuckles and listened.
“You can’t fix what’s already broken,” Doctor Jay said. “This man needs to be in a cell far more secure than the one we had you inside, better yet, buried in the ground. I tend to the second option, but the president doesn’t like to leave bodies of US citizens on the ground. It took us months of investigative work to find out what he was really up to in that lab,” he explained. “The bastard perfected a kill-suit.”
Now Herk’s attention was caught. “What did you say?” he asked.
“A kill-suit. You’ve probably never heard of the concept, but it’s been discussed for years in military research. It’s a type of body armor that makes the wearer impervious to bullets or anything the average soldier would carry. The problem we always had was how to power it. You can create an exoskeleton that will turn the average soldier into an unstoppable force, but what happens when the batteries go dead in combat? Such a suit would take a lot of juice and the technology never existed to make it happen.”
“He found a way to make super batteries?” Herk asked with a raised brow.
“He found a way to make a suit that never needed to be recharged,” Doctor Jay explained. “The suit he wears is biological. He found a way to grow an exoskeleton that he could slip on and become a superhuman killing machine. It feeds itself, we don’t know how, but his kill-suit is a living thing. It has some kind of bio-computer for the person who wears it. We think the battery might be powered by plant chloroplasts. He disappeared from an army base with one of these things and the information to make more.”
“And then the murders started,” Herk supplied, realizing where this story was headed.
“Harrisburg, Trenton, and now Philadelphia,” Doctor Jay confirmed. “All have the same MO. A powerful killer who crushes people or tears them apart with his bare hands. He likes to kidnap women and use them to lure their husbands or boyfriends back so he can have two victims. Never stays long enough in one city to leave a trail. But we’ve collected enough DNA samples from the crime scenes to know it’s his kill-suit. It has to be him wearing the suit because it was made to his specifications.”
He leaned forward and looked at Herk. “I need you to help me bring him in and soon. That will be your first task. Take this bastard out and it will count as the first of ten assignments. Accomplish all ten and you’re free to go. Just don’t leave any more bodies or show signs of a relapse. I’m not about to release a psycho killer to the general public.”
“Okay,” Herk said to him. “I play nice and do some tasks for you; I get to leave the funny farm. No problem, I’d do a lot to avoid Nurse Bulkhead and her little pills. Which leads me to the next question, what do you do about the meds? Those pills keep me sane but slow me down.” He glared right back at the doctor.
“Those pills have decreased in dosage, although you don’t notice it,” Doctor Jay explained. “The reason you don’t notice it is you are a lot better off than you were six months ago. Back then, we couldn’t have his conversation because you stared at the wall all day long. I have to take care of your maintenance dose—” the doctor pulled out a prescription pad and wrote down a few instructions— “but by and large you don’t need much. Again, first sign of a relapse and you come back here.” He handed the prescription to Herk who took it in his solid fingers.
“How are you going to keep track of me out in the field?” Herk asked. “Do I get sent to some kind of spy school?” He looked at the prescription, strong stuff, but less than they currently had him taking.
“On-the-job training. You were in the Special Forces before your premature death, so you have proven an aptitude for that kind of work. No need to send you off to Langley. Besides, someone might recognize you and we can’t have that. As for how I plan on keeping track of you, you’ll wear this at all times.” Doctor Jay handed him a square on a wristband.
“Put it on,” he told Herk. “Looks like those smart watches the kids like to wear. It does many of the same functions and tells me where you are and what you’re doing. Don’t take it off unless you message me in advance or I’ll have to call in an air strike.”
Herk looked over the tracker; it did resemble a smart watch.
“But I have another way to stay in keep track of your mental state,” Doctor Jay said as he touched a button on his desk. “You can come inside, Linda.” He leaned back and smirked. “I love retro-technology. I’ve only had this position six months, but the first thing I told the president when I accepted the job was that I had to have a desk speaker to buzz people from where I sat.”
There was a click from the door as it unlocked and a young woman in her twenties entered the room. She wasn’t very large and had big brown eyes, which focused immediately on Herk. She wore a short, tight dress that still managed to be regulation and had an ID tag that dangled from her neck on a linked chain. Her hair went down to her shoulders. It was jet black and curly. But what captured Herk’s attention was the shine on her polished Mary Jane shoes. He didn’t think you get such sheen on a standard set of leather pumps. His own jungle boots never looked so polished.
“Linda, this is Herk,” Doctor Jay announced. “You two will be working together from now on.” He turned to Herk who stood up to shake her hand. “Linda is a trained clinical psychiatrist. She will act as your liaison to HERA and help you out in the field.”
Herk looked down to see her smile and watched his gigantic hand swallow up her tiny one. She had to be no more than five-two and he was six-one. The woman introduced as Linda smiled at him. He saw no wedding band, which was a relief. The last thing he needed was a jealous spouse who had to stay in constant touch with his wife while she was in the field.
“I’ll be glad to work with you, Hahrk,” she said to him. Great, a Long Guyland accent.
“You two need to get your things ready and be on the first plane to Philly,” Doctor Jay said. “I’ll have cell phones sent to you at the airport. Herk, you don’t have a lot to pack and I’ve made arrangements at the clinic for them to give you a suit of clothes. You’ll have a stipend and a credit card and your schedule will be emailed to you. I’ve already decided on a pass word, it’s the first five letters of your prescription, shouldn’t be too hard to remember.”
He turned to Linda, “I’ve already talked about Herk to you. I wanted to make sure you are comfortable working with him. Any problems?”
The small dark haired woman looked Herk up and down. “No, none at all,” she said, but Herk thought he detected a shiver when she looked at him.
“Good, now get going,” he said. They turned to leave. “Just a minute, Herk,” Doctor Jay said with a snap of his fingers. He fished something out of his desk and tossed it to Herk. It was an ID tag. “You’ll need one of these when you’re in this building.”