A Darker Rain

Kapel

Prologue

Do you know what today is, Miss Chase? asked the dark-haired man. He glanced back at the woman standing behind him while he took a sip of bourbon. It was a single-malt, premium liquor, not the watered-down swill of his youth.

Today is the tenth anniversary of your father’s death, the woman replied. August Drake, arms dealer and munitions specialist. He was fifty-eight when he was killed in Bogotá during a military raid on his base camp.

The man nodded with a smile. Why, Cassandra, I’m impressed.

I make it a point to know those with whom I do business, the woman replied.

I trust you apply the same rigor when dealing with your enemies.

As do you, Antoine.

Antoine Drake gave a satisfied sigh. My father would have liked this place very much. He never had such luxuries when he was alive.

He gestured across the terrace toward the azure waters of the Mediterranean that lay to the south of the villa. Two marble pillars framed the extravagant view. Although Drake had properties in England, Spain, and Italy, he was partial to this house on the Cote d’Azur.

Things are different now than when he was alive, observed Cassandra. She looked almost bored, reminding Drake she was not impressed by displays of wealth.

Tall and thin, with long dark hair and dark eyes, Cassandra Chase was an attractive woman. She wore a navy suit and high-heeled boots that complemented her trim figure. But the coldness in her gaze always made him think of a cobra about to strike.

Yes, and in the most remarkable ways, thanks to you, said Drake. You’re every man’s dream.

More like every gunrunner’s dream, Cassandra replied coolly.

Drake laughed as he moved to the large mahogany desk directly across from the opening to the terrace. Resting his glass next to a stack of files, he sat in the black leather chair behind the desk and leaned backed comfortably.

In my youth, I thought the military weapons of the day were impressive. Yet I heard whispers that so much more was possible. That weapons of unimaginable power existed. Weapons from other worlds.

And now you know firsthand that such weapons are real, said Cassandra. She remained standing, her gaze firmly fixed on Drake.

I confirmed long ago that alien artifacts had made their way to this planet, countered Drake. It was my father who gave me my first glimpse of what was possible. One night he showed me a small dark stone. He said it contained the power of the universe, waiting to be unleashed. He let me hold the stone for a moment. I could feel the enormity of its power. And then my father told me there were four other stones just like it.

Drake met Cassandra’s gaze. Holding that stone was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. I could feel its energy surging through me. I wanted it.

What happened?

"I’ve never been able to confirm what actually happened, but I have my suspicions. My father had the stone with him when he was killed. I suspect the leader of our network at the time, a man by the name of Wilson Barclay, got hold of it after my father’s death.

In fact, I’ve always thought that Barclay orchestrated the raid as a convenient way to get rid of my father. They never saw eye to eye. And Barclay knew my father wanted his job as head of the network.

From what I hear, you made Barclay pay for your father’s death.

Drake smiled darkly as he retrieved his glass and took another sip of bourbon. I did. I took my revenge on him—and the military unit that killed my father. But avenging my father’s death is not enough. I want his stone back. In fact, I want all five of them.

That won’t be easy, said Cassandra. We’re not the only ones who seek them. And our recent efforts to acquire them have so far been less than fruitful.

I’ve been hunting for those stones for years, said Drake. I will not be denied them. That’s why I need you to go to the U.S.—to Seattle, Washington, to be precise—and directly supervise our efforts to retrieve them. You are, after all, uniquely qualified.

I understand, said Cassandra.

And you may have to contend with others who seek the stones as well, said Drake, although he knew this would not be a concern for Cassandra.

Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone interfere.

Excellent, said Drake. He looked at Cassandra somberly. There’s one more thing. I discovered just this morning that we have an additional problem I need you to resolve.

What’s that?

We’ve run into some problems at one of our research facilities in the United States. The one just outside Seattle.

What’s happened?

Ah, said Drake. It appears our test subject escaped before we could complete our programming.

I did warn you. Genetic engineering can have unpredictable consequences, especially when you’re incorporating alien genes into the mix. So we now have a potentially deadly weapon on the loose, as it were?

A deadly and undeniably alien weapon, said Drake. And it’s more than just on the loose. It’s on a rampage. I need the test subject recaptured before it draws too much attention. He gave Cassandra a small smile. It’s definitely not a good time to be going into the woods of Hawkley Ridge.

* * *

It watched its prey silently from the shadows.

It knew they could not see what was stalking them, but could sense its presence. It savored their tension as it noted the uneasy swaying of their heads and the nervous flicker of their eyes. A jolt of adrenaline served as a welcome reminder of its power. It knew its prey could sense that something deadly lay in wait for them in the darkness.

Danger was a frequent companion on the ridge. But as it peered out from the shadows of the dense thicket, it knew its strength, stealth, and cunning enabled it to deliver death like no other. Instinctively, it knew its prey recognized that too.

It moved closer, lean muscles growing taut as it readied for the attack. It knew what to do. A familiar rush coursed through its body. As it continued to monitor its prey, it could sense their growing uneasiness. It could taste their fear.

It struck quickly. Razor-sharp claws sunk into flesh with practiced ease.

Noise suddenly erupted in the darkness. Frightened grunts. Hopeless shouts.

But nothing could stop the onslaught.

Chapter 1

Ryan Cole zipped his blue jacket against the early morning chill. Dark clouds choked the horizon, and a sharp wind rustled through the trees, heralding an imminent storm.

Cole was glad he had arrived at the Weyland ranch before the coming rain washed away all traces of whatever had ravaged their cattle the night before.

The rain would also wash away all the blood.

There was a lot of it, seeping into the soil, staining the earth inside the corral with irregular inky pools. Even though several hours had passed since the blood had been shed, its faint coppery scent, although fading now, still served as a reminder of the recent carnage.

Cole had no doubt it would take a lot to dim the memory of what the ranchers had encountered in the darkness. It would also take a lot to wash away the remnants of the slaughter and the lingering stench of death that hung heavy in the air. But from what Cole could tell as he glanced at the darkening sky, there would be a lot of rain.

Cole stood by the entrance to the large fenced corral. Randy Weyland owned one of the largest ranches in the valley. He had inherited the vast spread from his father. To the west, Cole could see the mountain range that made up Hawkley Ridge.

Beside Cole stood Roy Stapleton, one of Weyland’s lead hands. Stapleton had worked at the ranch for more than fifteen years and was thoroughly familiar with the wilds of the Pacific Northwest.

That thing was spawned by the devil himself, Stapleton declared, a slight tremor in his voice.

Tell me about last night, said Cole. He pulled out a small notebook and pen from his pocket.

Stapleton looked out across the corral as if visualizing what he had seen. "We’d been hearing from the other ranchers about this wildcat that was stalking their cattle. Over the past week, a few reported that some animal had killed a few head.

So last night, a couple of us decided to check on our herd. You know, to make sure they were okay. Wild animals that get too close can spook them.

Cole nodded. And then?

We went out to the corral … and that’s when we heard it. Stapleton paused and shifted his focus to Cole directly.

Let me tell you, sir, I’ve worked in these parts most of my life. I’ve come across bears and cougars and pretty much any other predator you might encounter around here. Never, in all my years, have I come across anything like that.

Can you describe it? Cole asked.

It was like a big wildcat, but it was different somehow. When it growled, it sent chills down my spine, Stapleton replied.

At first, we thought it was a cougar. But it was bigger, and looked like a black leopard. I know we don’t have leopards here, but that’s what it looked like.

Was there anything else unusual about it? asked Cole. He already knew the answer to his question, but he wanted to hear what the ranch hand would say.

Stapleton glanced down at the ground before looking at Cole. Plenty, he said quietly. The worst were its eyes.

Its eyes?

Yeah. They weren’t regular animal eyes. They were red. And they glowed. Stapleton expelled a sharp breath. Like something not of this world.

That was precisely why Cole had come to the ranch to investigate the slaughter of the cattle. As second in command at Sigma Scientific, he was no stranger to the unusual.

Ryan Cole was the head of field operations for a firm that specialized in handling security threats. Sigma’s work included helping clients with sensitive or high-risk security issues and conducting investigations on security breaches. Sigma was also a leading designer of new security technology and field gear, with the U.S. military among its top clients.

Through its military connections, Sigma was also frequently called in to help respond to potential threats from other worlds. Anything that even remotely suggested alien technology was in play quickly became a top priority, both for Sigma and for Cole’s military contacts.

Sigma was often engaged by the military to help recover and decipher alien technology that had made its way to Earth. They often came up against gunrunners and arms dealers trafficking not only in stolen military hardware, but also in artifacts from other worlds.

Cole had encountered a lot of unexplained phenomena in his career with Sigma and, before that, with the U.S. Air Force. He was privy to information that never made it to the evening news.

He understood there were powerful forces on the planet—and beyond—that exerted influence from the shadows. In fact, he often played a role in protecting the welfare of a public that never even knew such forces existed.

Lately it seemed as though the flow of alien technology had increased. There were more black-market deals involving alien weapons, which was a major concern for the Pentagon and the CIA. Fortunately, there wasn’t a lot of evidence of such weapons being used in criminal activities or by political extremists. But Cole’s military contacts were worried it was just a matter of time.

Cole had therefore responded immediately to the request for help regarding the unusual, deadly wildcat. The ranchers around Hawkley Ridge had been reporting sightings of it for several days. But the attack the previous night had prompted Randy Weyland to place a late night call for help to his friend Theo Warren, the head of Sigma. Cole and his team had been quickly dispatched in response.

Both Cole and Warren agreed that whatever was threatening the livestock of Hawkley Ridge was unconventional and possibly of alien origin. But it was not just the possibility of alien links that had Cole concerned about the leopard. The creature had turned up in a geographic area that Sigma was exploring as part of a separate investigation that also related to alien technology.

Cole’s team was on the trail of some major alien artifacts, and one was thought to lay hidden in the U.S. Pacific Northwest. Even more significantly, the leopard had turned up in search quadrant Beta Fourteen, the very area they were investigating. Cole had little doubt that the ranchers were facing a much bigger threat than they realized.

Do you remember anything else about the creature? Anything else that was unusual? asked Cole.

Stapleton looked relieved that Cole had believed him about the creature’s eyes. The expression on his face suggested he was prepared to fully disclose what had happened the night before.

I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but I think that wildcat has some sort of power over people, said Stapleton. This time he met Cole’s gaze squarely.

What do you mean?

I didn’t get too close to the creature, but one of the other ranch hands here, he did. He went after it with a rifle.

What happened?

I can tell you what he told me. You can ask him yourself when he gets out of the hospital.

Cole nodded. What did he say?

"He said he was aiming his rifle at it when the creature turned and looked at him. All of a sudden, he couldn’t focus. It was like the thing was messing with his mind. He dropped his rifle and blacked out.

We found him unconscious on the ground maybe ten yards from the corral. We got him to the hospital, and he came to an hour later. He’s still there, under observation.

Cole let out a slow exhale. The odds of this creature having alien origins had just increased significantly.

Stapleton shook his head. There’s something else. Not only does this thing not look or act like any wildcat I’ve ever come across, it also doesn’t hunt like one either. When we got to the corral, we found six cattle slaughtered.

Stapleton looked at Cole, his eyes dark with fear. "I ask you, what wildcat kills six animals in one go? And it wasn’t just our ranch that it attacked last night. It hit Pete Axford’s ranch too, earlier in the evening, and took down three of theirs.

The night before, it killed two from Mitch Brandon’s ranch and two of Joe Carpenter’s. And it didn’t feed on any of them. It just killed them. And how it killed them has us all unnerved.

What did it do? asked Cole.

Stapleton paused, closing his eyes briefly against the memory. It slashed their throats. And then, God help us … then it ripped out their hearts.

Despite having been briefed, Cole could feel his own sense of concern growing as Stapleton recounted the events of the previous night.

Based on the reports you’ve heard, how many head of cattle has this wildcat killed so far? Cole inquired.

Stapleton rubbed his chin as he considered the question. I’d say it’s taken down maybe fifteen head over the past four nights. Every night, it seems to take down more. Last night, with our six and Axford’s three, was its biggest spree yet. And it didn’t fed on any of them.

Cole kept his face composed, but he knew the ranch hand was right. The kill pattern did not match that of any wildcat known to inhabit the Pacific Northwest—or anywhere else. No animal needed that much food, and this wildcat wasn’t even feeding on the animals it slaughtered.

It’s like it’s killing for sport, said Stapleton, completing Cole’s unspoken thought.

Cole nodded. It was clear they needed to find the creature, and fast.

I’ve never been so scared in my life as I was last night, Stapleton added. He shook his head and looked at Cole, seeking some measure of reassurance. Your people, they’re going to help us. Right?

Cole nodded. He had established a base camp at Hawkley Ridge, a few miles from the Weyland ranch. The camp’s location, in the heart of the valley, was central to the various sites where the wildcat had been spotted. Cole had already dispatched a team of scientists—accompanied by a security team—to track the creature down.

Given the nature of their work, Sigma employed some highly respected scientists and researchers across a variety of disciplines. They needed innovative thinkers with open minds to solve the challenges they encountered.

Sigma’s leaders also wisely understood that forays into uncharted territory could be dangerous. So the company also employed a strong contingent of security personnel, many of whom, like Cole, were ex-military.

Cole and Brody Thompson, a member of the research team, had taken on the task of interviewing the ranch hands who had encountered the wildcat. Cole had charged Thompson, an experienced field researcher, with collecting samples that could potentially help the field team learn more about the mysterious creature.

You know what scares me the most? offered Stapleton at length.

What? asked Cole.

The thought of what might happen when this thing gets bored with hunting cattle.

* * *

Cole looked up to see Thompson approaching. He had been investigating the wildcat’s tracks and also interviewing a few of the other ranch hands. Like Cole, Thompson was dressed in blue jeans and a dark blue Sigma field jacket. He was carrying a backpack, slung over his right shoulder.

Cole looked at Thompson, noting his grim expression.

What did you find? he asked.

A hell of a lot of blood, said Thompson, his face pale.

And the wildcat?

I found quite a few tracks, said Thompson. I took photos, soil samples, plaster casts—the works.

Cole considered Thompson’s observations. Initial thoughts?

From the shape of the tracks, I’d agree that what we’re dealing with is definitely feline, said Thompson. But from the size and depth of the tracks, I’d say it’s not a match for a cougar or any other typical local wildcat.

How about a leopard?

Thompson frowned. I wouldn’t think many of those call the Seattle area home.

Cole shrugged. The ranchers say the animal is black … and looks like a leopard.

Thompson nodded respectfully, meeting Stapleton’s gaze. I’ll check that out when I do further analysis.

Stapleton glanced at Cole, a faint look of relief crossing his face. They now had expert confirmation that they were dealing with something unusual and deadly. Now the ranchers didn’t have to face this thing, whatever it was, alone.

Stapleton’s meeting with Cole had bolstered his confidence. When Weyland told him he was bringing in some people to help deal with their rogue wildcat, Stapleton had not liked idea. What did outsiders, from the city no less, know about ranching? Or how to deal with something as inexplicable as that wildcat?

But having met Cole, he was relieved that Weyland had brought him in. Cole seemed to be a bright young man, in his mid-thirties at most, and he had a reassuringly calm demeanor. He was tall and lean, with dark brown hair. There was an alertness about him that suggested a military background.

Stapleton understood Cole had reached the rank of major in the Air Force and had been highly decorated before leaving to join Sigma. But what Stapleton found most reassuring was the depth of confidence and experience he saw reflected in Cole’s eyes. It suggested there wasn’t much Cole couldn’t handle.

Whatever’s out there, we’ll find it, said Cole. Pocketing his notebook, he thanked Stapleton for his time and information and headed back to his SUV with Thompson. As he approached the vehicle, he looked up at the darkening sky. Let’s get back to camp before this storm hits.

Thompson put his backpack in the back of the vehicle and settled into the passenger seat.

Have you ever encountered anything like this before? he asked.

Nothing like what these ranchers are describing, Cole noted. Maybe your samples can help shed some light on our mysterious wildcat. We can also check in with Jackson and Caitlin and see if they’ve come up with anything. Tomorrow, I’d also like you to follow up with the ranch hand who shot at the leopard. He may have some valuable insights.

Thompson gave a grunt of acknowledgment. I’m not sure my samples can tell us much. I think we’re going to need the live specimen to understand what’s really going on here.

A few drops of rain splattered on the windshield. An echo of thunder reverberated through the air.

But we’ll need to be careful, Thompson added. We’re camping in that creature’s hunting ground.

Chapter 2

Hawkley Ridge was a natural splendor, and it was especially impressive with the vibrant green transforming to the orange and scarlet hues of fall. A river cut through the valley, its swirling blue-gray waters cold and deep.

The riverbanks gave way to forest on either side. To the west, the forest extended into the mountain range, whose dark brooding peaks stood watch over the valley below.

Standing beside the river, Dr. David Jackson zipped up his field jacket and ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair as he looked intently at the far bank. Jackson was the head of research at Sigma. His job entailed a lot of travel and outdoor work, which gave him a perennial tan. His friends teased that he strived to look the part of the wilderness researcher by sporting a beard and moustache.

There had been a lot of rain in recent weeks, and the level of the river was high. The trek along the riverbank had left Jackson’s boots and the cuffs of his jeans streaked with mud.

The ongoing rain would make his work more difficult. It was going to be hard to track anything with the rain continuously washing away any possible tracks. He noted with some frustration that it would soon be raining again, as another flash of lightning pierced the sky.

Jackson narrowed his eyes. He was certain he had seen something moving through the brush on the other side of the river. He peered through his binoculars. Come on. Where are you? he whispered. He put the binoculars down, allowing them to hang from his neck, as he pulled his radio from his belt and called Cole at the base camp.

I know it’s out here, he said. I can feel it.

We need to find it, and soon, said Cole. He had given Jackson an update on what he’d learned from Stapleton and his concern about the creature’s possible alien origins.

It did a lot of damage last night at Weyland’s ranch. What’s even more of a concern, it seems to be growing more aggressive. So you guys watch yourselves. Make sure you stay in sight of the security team at all times.

I’m armed, said Jackson. He tapped his rifle to reassure himself.

That’s good to hear, said Cole. But weapons aren’t your area of expertise, so if you do spot the cat, keep your distance. Let Scofield and Wilson handle it.

Jackson glanced at Rick Scofield and Ian Wilson, who were scrutinizing their surroundings intently. He was grateful they had a security team with them. He gave some thought to Cole’s account of the meeting with the ranchers. This sounds like pretty advanced genetic engineering, he said.

More likely genetic engineering with an alien twist, replied Cole. Introducing alien genes into the mix may be what makes it possible to create something more powerful and deadly than what natural evolution would produce. It’s like redefining the survival of the fittest.

More like opening Pandora’s box, offered Jackson. But this is more than just a seek-and-destroy mission. Right? We might be able to learn more about it if we take this creature alive.

I know it would be ideal to take it alive, but I don’t want anyone taking chances. Scofield and Wilson both have tranquilizer darts and regular ammo with them. Leave it to them to decide if lethal force is needed, said Cole. We’re not going to put any lives at risk to capture this thing. Not the locals or anybody on the team. Is that clear?

Crystal.

In the four years since Cole had joined Sigma, Jackson had grown to trust his judgment. He had had some misgivings when Cole first came on board. Theo Warren, Sigma’s owner, had wanted to spend more time developing technology and less time managing investigations, so he had brought in Cole to take charge of field operations.

Jackson hadn’t been sure he would like reporting directly to Cole, having had no prior experience working with ex-military. But Cole had proved exemplary in his role. Jackson trusted him implicitly. In fact, over the years, they had become close friends.

At that moment, a tall woman with long, blonde hair approached Jackson and stopped next to him. Jackson watched as she made adjustments to a small recording unit and pointed it in the direction he had been looking across the river. In addition to making audio and video recordings, the unit could record environmental inputs, including temperature, air quality, altitude, and position.

Caitlin Raine had joined Sigma only eight months earlier. She was on loan from some other organization, although Jackson knew very few details of the arrangement. It had all been orchestrated by Warren.

Jackson liked Caitlin. She worked hard and offered valuable insights that contributed greatly to their success. She was also exceptionally attractive, with striking blue eyes that conveyed both keen intelligence and deep empathy for others.

Speaking into her radio, Caitlin connected with Cole. Are you picking up my video feed?

It’s clear. We can see what you see.

Caitlin frowned as she looked through the viewer.

What’s wrong? asked Jackson.

I’m not sure. I feel like we’re being watched.

By what? asked Jackson.

I’m not sure.

Suddenly, Caitlin looked up at him in excitement. I’m picking up something over there, she said, pointing across the river.

Immediately, the two security agents moved next to her.

Then they saw it emerge from the brushwood. It was a lean, muscular animal, its gait strong and confident. At first glance, it did look like a large black leopard. Its ears were perked, as though it was hunting. It was moving slowly away from them, padding along the opposite bank.

Jackson stood watchfully as Caitlin carefully filmed the animal. Scofield brought up his rifle, loaded with tranquilizer darts.

Suddenly, the creature sniffed the air and stopped. It slowly turned its head and looked directly at the four members of the Sigma team. It was then that another of the animal’s distinct features became apparent. Jackson heard Caitlin’s startled intake of breath as she continued to capture the image on film.

The animal gazing intently at them from across the river was unlike any wildcat Jackson had ever seen. Its face, with its triangular ears and long whiskers, seemed to confirm that it was feline, but its eyes were another matter. Jackson felt a chill travel down his spine as he stared back at a pair of glowing red orbs.

The creature seemed displeased at discovering human observers across the river. Even from more than twenty yards away, they could hear its low throaty growl. Jackson shivered. It might have looked like a leopard, but it didn’t sound like one.

God damn, said Jackson, under his breath. He whispered into his radio. Cole, do you read? We’ve made contact.

We can see that, said Cole softly. Scofield, can you get a shot?

Yes, sir. Scofield aimed his rifle. The wildcat responded by locking its gaze on the security agent.

Scofield gasped.

What is it? asked Jackson.

I … I’m not sure. I can’t seem to fire. Scofield’s rifle slipped from his fingers as the agent dropped to his knees, his hands pressing against his head.

Scofield! Jackson exclaimed, as Wilson bent over his partner, his rifle at the ready.

At that moment, the rain started to fall, slowly at first, then picking up momentum. A bright flash of lightning ripped through the darkened sky, and the valley echoed with the crash of thunder that followed.

The wildcat perked its ears as it turned and headed toward the trees, its pace swifter. It looked back once more in Jackson’s direction, and gave another long, low growl.

Should we follow it? Jackson whispered into his radio.

Negative, came Cole’s sharp reply. Stand down and head back to camp. How’s Scofield?

I’m okay, Scofield reported, although his voice was weak. Damn, I don’t know what hit me.

Weyland’s people warned us that the creature has some unusual abilities, said Cole. We need to figure out how to deal with that before we take it on. And it wouldn’t hurt to figure out who’s behind it.

In truth, I don’t know of too many people who could have created something as spectacular as that, said Jackson, as he and his team headed back toward camp.

One particular name springs to mind, Cole replied.

Antoine Drake, said Jackson.

He does have the requisite interest in alien technology.

I thought he was interested in alien weapons, said Jackson. But we’re talking about some sort of mutant leopard here.

Given the kind of damage that leopard can inflict, if it is under Drake’s control, what would you call it, if not some sort of weapon?

Jackson sighed. If someone like Antoine Drake is involved, these ranchers have a lot more trouble on their hands than just a rogue wildcat.

If Drake has come up with a way to use alien gene splicing so he can have mutant creatures at his beck and call, it won’t be just the ranchers who are in trouble.

The rain and wind continued to pick up intensity, whipping through the trees and along the path that Jackson and Caitlin were following. Scofield and Wilson followed, keeping a sharp lookout for the leopard.

At least we have hard evidence to corroborate the ranchers’ story, Jackson observed. His hiking boots dug into the increasingly muddy path as he pushed aside branches to clear the way forward. We’ll have plenty of footage to study when we get back to camp.

I’ll see you back here, said Cole as he ended the call.

Jackson and Caitlin walked for a few moments in silence. Then, looking down at his feet, Jackson shook his head. With this rain, we’re not going to find that creature’s trail. He glanced at Caitlin in dismay.

Maybe Andy or Brody will be able to make something of what we’ve found when we get back to the base camp, said Caitlin. Andy Reeves was a promising young researcher who had joined the team a year earlier. We did manage to film it. That should help.

Yeah, but given what we appear to be up against, I think we may have uncovered more questions than answers.

Caitlin nodded. As I was filming, I had a sense of a keen intelligence watching us. It was unusual.

Intelligence and malevolence, said Jackson. Always my favorite combination.

So who is Antoine Drake? asked Caitlin. You mentioned his name when you were talking to Ryan.

He’s no friend of Sigma’s, said Jackson. He’s a very wealthy, international magnate with enough illegal operations to make him a wanted man in more jurisdictions than you can count.

What does he do?

Besides wanting to become a world power? Practically everything. Gunrunning. Drugs. Extortion. Espionage. Drake has a particular fancy for exotic weapons and state-of-the-art military hardware. He also has quite the appetite for alien technology. He’s interested in anything that could give him a military edge.

Caitlin frowned. Does he have many allies?

Jackson shrugged. He certainly has a lot of customers. But we’re not so sure about allies. No one really knows how Drake gets his hands on alien technology. We’ve heard he has a new partner, a woman by the name of Cassandra Chase. But she’s an enigma. No one knows how he met her or what types of connections she has.

I see, said Caitlin. That explains why Ryan was so concerned when he saw the footage of that creature. It may mean Drake has a presence close to home.

Yeah, but it’s not just the creature that has Cole concerned.

Because Drake is also interested in other types of alien technology?

You got it, said Jackson. We’ve heard rumors that he wants to get his hands on some specific alien artifacts—artifacts that Sigma is also keen to obtain.

What kind of artifacts? asked Caitlin.

Jackson glanced at her warily. He knew Caitlin had top-level security clearance. She was familiar with Sigma’s recent assignments, including some that involved the recovery of alien weapons. Still, Jackson was reluctant to discuss with her Sigma’s overlapping interest with Drake in this particular application of alien technology.

Caitlin frowned, sensing Jackson’s discomfort. They must be quite the artifacts.

Jackson sighed. Cole clearly trusted Caitlin. So there was no reason for him to withhold the information.

They are. They’re a set of five crystals called guardian stones, and they were once set in an ancient amulet. No one knows where they came from originally or what happened to all of them. Cole and Dalton believe the amulet and its stones represent some sort of very powerful alien technology. Each stone is supposed to embody one of the elements, and to give its holder the power of that element.

Like fire and water? asked Caitlin.

Exactly, said Jackson. Individually, the stones are said to be very powerful, with the capacity to channel energy. And we can just imagine how much power someone would wield if he or she possessed all five. So Cole has made finding the stones—and keeping them from falling into the hands of someone like Drake—a top priority at Sigma. We actually have the amulet and one of the stones in our possession. But Cole wants to acquire all five. He knows that Drake could use them to attain unimaginable power.

How does that relate to the creature? asked Caitlin.

One of the things that’s really troubling is this wildcat has turned up in an area where we believe a guardian stone is hidden. So, if Drake is behind this creature, he may very well be on the trail of the guardian stone as well.

Ah. So the work you’ve all been doing—analyzing maps of the Pacific Northwest—relates to your search for this stone?

It does. But one thing doesn’t fit.

What’s that?

If Drake is hunting for a stone in this area, why draw attention to himself with this creature?

Jackson rubbed rainwater from his face and shook his head. "Frankly, that has me baffled. Maybe he’s testing out his creature here and doesn’t realize this might also be the location of the missing stone.

Still, I don’t know what he stands to gain from setting the animal loose on unsuspecting ranchers. But I’m sure we’ll get to the bottom of it.

I know we will, agreed Caitlin as she rested her hand against Jackson’s arm. I have every confidence in you and Ryan and the rest of the team.

We’re glad you’re with us, Jackson replied. But he couldn’t ignore the uneasy feeling that Caitlin knew more about the situation than she was willing to admit.

*