number, fake clearance level, all planted in our records. Otherwise the shipment never would have gone out. But no way to find out who did it, either. We’ve been over this.”
“Right,” Zach said. “A/A employee: Stephens, Justin. A transport engineer, whatever the hell that means.”
“He doesn’t exist,” Book snapped. “We explained this.”
“Yeah?” Zach spun in the chair and faced all three of them. “Well, he sent another shipment twelve hours after the first one.”
Silence. Zach pushed back from the screen to show them what their own computer database had pulled up a few seconds before.
“Maybe we ought to figure out where that’s going, you think?”
NINE
Cade’s speed is perhaps his most formidable attribute, even more than his strength or resistance to damage. Cade’s running speed is nearly three times that of the fastest recorded human, at 75 mph. However, what is more impressive (and more useful, from Cade’s perspective as a predator) are his “short burst” movements—i.e., moving across a room or another limited distance. These have been clocked at over 50 mph from a standing start . This speed is on par with the action of the pistol shrimp, which attacks its prey so quickly that even the highest-speed cameras have trouble catching the movement.
Cade is able to accomplish this due to his altered physiology. His tightly coiled, highly dense muscle tissue is almost always in the “potential” state to release energy (excepting, of course, when he is in his coma-like state for rest during the day). His neural transmission is much faster than human as well, so his nervous system delivers commands nearly instantaneously—thought and action are almost simultaneous. The potential energy is released explosively and Cade is effectively hurled into motion.
The mean human response time to visual stimuli is approximately 180–200 milliseconds. In that amount of time, Cade could move 13.1 feet. In a confined space or in the dark, this is nearly impossible to track visually. In these circumstances, Cade is, for all practical purposes, faster than the eye can see. This is probably what gives rise to the myths of vampires being able to disperse into mist or even fly.
—BRIEFING BOOK: CODE NAME: NIGHTMARE PET
CAMP LEMONNIER, DJIBOUTI, NORTHERN AFRICA
P FC Tom Gangwer was working the midnight-to-0800 shift with Lewis, both of them inside the guard station at the front gate.
Lemonnier was the only U.S. military installation in Africa. What was once a collection of double-wide trailers and air-conditioned tents—basically an afterthought in the defense budget—received a serious upgrade for the ongoing War on Terror. Over the past few years, they’d added an airstrip capable of landing a C-130, dorms for personnel, a drone launch facility and a new rec center. The number of soldiers and sailors had doubled to more than three thousand.
Even though the Navy was in charge of the site, the Army helped out with security. Gangwer didn’t mind. Security was a pretty easy detail, all things considered. Yeah, they had to watch out for any local who decided that a car bomb was an e-ticket ride to Heaven. But most of the locals were actually pretty cool here. And the soldiers were assisted greatly by the fact that the camp was in the middle of BFE. Sentries could see anyone coming on the main road, and anyone who wasn’t on the main road had to cross open space—miles and miles of flat, dusty ground.
Tonight, the only thing on the schedule was a prisoner transfer. Archer/Andrews was bringing in human cargo. Soldiers were, in fact, encouraged to look the other way from these special deliveries. The less you knew, the better.
That was fine by Gangwer. This wasn’t Iraq, where everyone and his brother wore a suicide belt under his robes. He’d been happy to get the transfer order here, and he wasn’t about to screw it up.
“You know, in my hometown, there was a theater called
“Right,” Zach said. “A/A employee: Stephens, Justin. A transport engineer, whatever the hell that means.”
“He doesn’t exist,” Book snapped. “We explained this.”
“Yeah?” Zach spun in the chair and faced all three of them. “Well, he sent another shipment twelve hours after the first one.”
Silence. Zach pushed back from the screen to show them what their own computer database had pulled up a few seconds before.
“Maybe we ought to figure out where that’s going, you think?”
NINE
Cade’s speed is perhaps his most formidable attribute, even more than his strength or resistance to damage. Cade’s running speed is nearly three times that of the fastest recorded human, at 75 mph. However, what is more impressive (and more useful, from Cade’s perspective as a predator) are his “short burst” movements—i.e., moving across a room or another limited distance. These have been clocked at over 50 mph from a standing start . This speed is on par with the action of the pistol shrimp, which attacks its prey so quickly that even the highest-speed cameras have trouble catching the movement.
Cade is able to accomplish this due to his altered physiology. His tightly coiled, highly dense muscle tissue is almost always in the “potential” state to release energy (excepting, of course, when he is in his coma-like state for rest during the day). His neural transmission is much faster than human as well, so his nervous system delivers commands nearly instantaneously—thought and action are almost simultaneous. The potential energy is released explosively and Cade is effectively hurled into motion.
The mean human response time to visual stimuli is approximately 180–200 milliseconds. In that amount of time, Cade could move 13.1 feet. In a confined space or in the dark, this is nearly impossible to track visually. In these circumstances, Cade is, for all practical purposes, faster than the eye can see. This is probably what gives rise to the myths of vampires being able to disperse into mist or even fly.
—BRIEFING BOOK: CODE NAME: NIGHTMARE PET
CAMP LEMONNIER, DJIBOUTI, NORTHERN AFRICA
P FC Tom Gangwer was working the midnight-to-0800 shift with Lewis, both of them inside the guard station at the front gate.
Lemonnier was the only U.S. military installation in Africa. What was once a collection of double-wide trailers and air-conditioned tents—basically an afterthought in the defense budget—received a serious upgrade for the ongoing War on Terror. Over the past few years, they’d added an airstrip capable of landing a C-130, dorms for personnel, a drone launch facility and a new rec center. The number of soldiers and sailors had doubled to more than three thousand.
Even though the Navy was in charge of the site, the Army helped out with security. Gangwer didn’t mind. Security was a pretty easy detail, all things considered. Yeah, they had to watch out for any local who decided that a car bomb was an e-ticket ride to Heaven. But most of the locals were actually pretty cool here. And the soldiers were assisted greatly by the fact that the camp was in the middle of BFE. Sentries could see anyone coming on the main road, and anyone who wasn’t on the main road had to cross open space—miles and miles of flat, dusty ground.
Tonight, the only thing on the schedule was a prisoner transfer. Archer/Andrews was bringing in human cargo. Soldiers were, in fact, encouraged to look the other way from these special deliveries. The less you knew, the better.
That was fine by Gangwer. This wasn’t Iraq, where everyone and his brother wore a suicide belt under his robes. He’d been happy to get the transfer order here, and he wasn’t about to screw it up.
“You know, in my hometown, there was a theater called
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