THE VIRON CONSPIRACY (JAKE SCARNE THRILLERS #4) by Lawrence de Maria Page B
Authors: Lawrence de Maria
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hunters were equipped with night-vision goggles and infra-red telescopic sights. For their part, the R.B.P.S. protesters sent teams in the woods dressed in bright yellow slickers carrying candles and flashlights to throw off the high-tech equipment.
“It looks like a science-fiction movie,” one reporter commented. “More protesters will probably be shot than badgers.”
Brandman, standing with some assistants outside a wooded area near Cheltenham, flinched at the first shot coming from somewhere in the forest. It would be just his luck to be hit by a stray bullet. A few minutes later, one of the hunters emerged from the tree line holding a dead badger by the tail. For a moment, Brandman felt a twinge of regret as the shooter walked past him. It was actually a handsome-looking animal, with a fine, shiny pelt. The shooter threw the carcass into the back of a pick-up truck, where it landed with a sickening thump. There was another shot. Then a volley. Within a few minutes shots rang out regularly.
“Sounds like bloody D-Day in there,” one of his assistants said.
An hour later, the truck was full of dead badgers. Blood dripped from the rear gate onto the road. There was a flash from a camera. A damn press photographer had somehow managed to get through security. Oh, bloody wonderful, Brandman thought. Wait until Dora sees that photo!
The truck’s driver closed the rear hatch, got in the cab and drove away. He’d deliver his gruesome cargo to the Crown’s vivisectionists prior to incineration. Another pickup pulled into the spot.
It was all such a pity, Brandman admitted. But he was confident the badgers were the vector for the Mad Cow outbreak.
After all, all the cows involved in the current crisis, he knew, were fed exclusively on a grain and soybean mix made by the BVM Corporation in the United States, under the strictest guidelines and control.
CHAPTER 14 - FACE DOWN
“You ever see that movie, The Thing , by John Carpenter?”
“Yes,” Scarne said. “The first one was much superior.”
Detective Blaise Kanegi looked confused.
“The first what?”
“The first The Thing . Made in the early 50’s. Short on special effects but scary as hell.”
“The 1950’s?”
Kanegi was in his early 30’s, Scarne estimated, and realized he might as well be talking about silent movies.
“Yes. James Arness played the alien, as a kind of super vegetable. Later, of course, he went on to fame in Gunsmoke .”
“ Gunsmoke ?”
Scarne looked at the homicide detective.
“You have heard of Hawaii Five-O , haven’t you?”
“Sure. Show is bogus. They say they’re Hawaiian State Police. Only we don’t have a state police department in the Islands.”
Scarne wanted to say that he already knew that, but debating this particular homicide cop about Hawaii policing would probably be as productive as talking about old movies. As it was, he could hardly remember why they had even started talking about films. Fortunately, Kanegi got back on track.
“Anyway, that’s what it looked like. One of those yucky half-human, half-alien blobs with two heads and lots of limbs in The Thing . Every bone in their bodies was smashed.”
“You were there?’
“No. I responded to the murders at Campbell’s house. But I saw the photos from the ball field.”
It was Saturday, just before noon, and they were sitting in a small conference room in the Criminal Investigation Division of the Honolulu Police Department’s ultra-modern headquarters building on South Beretania Street. Scarne had flown out of O’Hare the morning after meeting Kate. The 13-hour, two-stop, flight had exhausted him and at 8 P.M. he checked into a Holiday Inn on Waikiki beach, where he grabbed a quick dinner and went straight to bed, fighting jet lag.
Kanegi had provided some much-needed coffee, the best police-station brew Scarne ever tasted, although that wasn’t saying much and the fact it was restoring him to near normality might have had
“It looks like a science-fiction movie,” one reporter commented. “More protesters will probably be shot than badgers.”
Brandman, standing with some assistants outside a wooded area near Cheltenham, flinched at the first shot coming from somewhere in the forest. It would be just his luck to be hit by a stray bullet. A few minutes later, one of the hunters emerged from the tree line holding a dead badger by the tail. For a moment, Brandman felt a twinge of regret as the shooter walked past him. It was actually a handsome-looking animal, with a fine, shiny pelt. The shooter threw the carcass into the back of a pick-up truck, where it landed with a sickening thump. There was another shot. Then a volley. Within a few minutes shots rang out regularly.
“Sounds like bloody D-Day in there,” one of his assistants said.
An hour later, the truck was full of dead badgers. Blood dripped from the rear gate onto the road. There was a flash from a camera. A damn press photographer had somehow managed to get through security. Oh, bloody wonderful, Brandman thought. Wait until Dora sees that photo!
The truck’s driver closed the rear hatch, got in the cab and drove away. He’d deliver his gruesome cargo to the Crown’s vivisectionists prior to incineration. Another pickup pulled into the spot.
It was all such a pity, Brandman admitted. But he was confident the badgers were the vector for the Mad Cow outbreak.
After all, all the cows involved in the current crisis, he knew, were fed exclusively on a grain and soybean mix made by the BVM Corporation in the United States, under the strictest guidelines and control.
CHAPTER 14 - FACE DOWN
“You ever see that movie, The Thing , by John Carpenter?”
“Yes,” Scarne said. “The first one was much superior.”
Detective Blaise Kanegi looked confused.
“The first what?”
“The first The Thing . Made in the early 50’s. Short on special effects but scary as hell.”
“The 1950’s?”
Kanegi was in his early 30’s, Scarne estimated, and realized he might as well be talking about silent movies.
“Yes. James Arness played the alien, as a kind of super vegetable. Later, of course, he went on to fame in Gunsmoke .”
“ Gunsmoke ?”
Scarne looked at the homicide detective.
“You have heard of Hawaii Five-O , haven’t you?”
“Sure. Show is bogus. They say they’re Hawaiian State Police. Only we don’t have a state police department in the Islands.”
Scarne wanted to say that he already knew that, but debating this particular homicide cop about Hawaii policing would probably be as productive as talking about old movies. As it was, he could hardly remember why they had even started talking about films. Fortunately, Kanegi got back on track.
“Anyway, that’s what it looked like. One of those yucky half-human, half-alien blobs with two heads and lots of limbs in The Thing . Every bone in their bodies was smashed.”
“You were there?’
“No. I responded to the murders at Campbell’s house. But I saw the photos from the ball field.”
It was Saturday, just before noon, and they were sitting in a small conference room in the Criminal Investigation Division of the Honolulu Police Department’s ultra-modern headquarters building on South Beretania Street. Scarne had flown out of O’Hare the morning after meeting Kate. The 13-hour, two-stop, flight had exhausted him and at 8 P.M. he checked into a Holiday Inn on Waikiki beach, where he grabbed a quick dinner and went straight to bed, fighting jet lag.
Kanegi had provided some much-needed coffee, the best police-station brew Scarne ever tasted, although that wasn’t saying much and the fact it was restoring him to near normality might have had
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