However, all readers - sooner or later - find for themselves a literary genre that is fundamentally different from all others. Deadly Undertaking by Allen Gregory (to read list TXT) 📖
- Author: Allen Gregory
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Book online «Deadly Undertaking by Allen Gregory (to read list TXT) 📖». Author Allen Gregory
Sherman Peabody stood rigidly at attention, uneasily shifting from one foot to another. He was intensely uncomfortable being the focus of attention by the four Linchpin operatives who stood before him. “Ah . . .” he squawked before his throat closed up, and he was unable to speak.
CJ brought him a glass of water, and Dr. Malloy put his arm protectively around the young IT genius’ shoulder, murmuring, “It’s all right, Mr. Peabody. I know this is difficult, but we are counting on you to help us see a way out of the dilemma we find ourselves in.”
Gulping loudly, Peabody emptied his glass in seconds. He belched loudly, reddening with embarrassment as he mumbled, “Sorry.”
“Awesome, Sherm! Atta boy!”
“Geez,” CJ muttered, shaking her head in disgust. “It’s like a non-stop ‘Bodily Function Fest’ around here.”
“S-sorry, Agent Jeong,” Peabody stammered.
CJ smiled at Sherman, patting his forearm, hoping to reassure him. “It doesn’t bother me, Sherman. I’ve been around Flint long enough that it’s almost impossible to gross me out.”
Flint stared at CJ with amused annoyance. “But you said you liked a rugged he-man type.”
“I do, Flint,” replied CJ, batting her lashes at him and smiling sweetly. “I just prefer that his social skills surpass that of the average middle schooler.”
Flint scowled at her, but smiled inwardly when he saw her attempt to suppress a grin.
Dr. Malloy ignored the banter, attempting to focus Peabody on the matter at hand. “Now, Mr. Peabody, can you please enlighten us as to what you think you’ve deciphered?” He pointed to the cryptic message on the overhead monitor—Reaper 6 @ 1800 hours. Prepare for the Age of Reason<500MM Xxxxxx
“Yes, sir. I’m a fan of skeptical science, urban legends, and conspiracy theory websites. The more offbeat and unusual the theories, the more I’m intrigued. It’s kind of a weird hobby I know, but I’ve cataloged a LOT of information in a relatively short time, so I have a pretty impressive database.”
He paused and searched the others’ expressions, looking for the first glimpse of ridicule. He saw nothing but rapt attention, so he decided to press on.
“Anyway, a couple of phrases in the message struck a chord with me, so I decided to search on my database, and, well—I had some luck.”
Malloy watched Peabody intently and urged him, “Go on.”
Peabody swallowed. “Well, I think the first part of the message, Reaper 6, indicates that the ‘Grim Reaper’ is going to be invoked six times. 1800 hours is 6:00 p.m. on the military clock.” He paused again, awaiting derision, but was pleased to see them all listening intently.
“What about Prepare for the Age of Reason? What does that mean?” Flint asked.
“That’s a little tricky. The Age of Reason is referred to in quite a few philosophical teachings, but one source that ties in most closely to the other references in the message are the Georgia Guidestones.”
Dr. Malloy’s eyebrows arched sharply upward, disappearing into the tangle of his salt-and-pepper hair. “Indeed?”
“Yessir. The Guidestones were constructed in 1980 in Elbert County, Georgia. The circumstances surrounding the financing and construction of the Guidestones are pretty mysterious, and there is some uncertainty as to who is actually behind their construction.” Peabody swiped and placed a photo of the Guidestones on the overhead monitor.
Flint eyed the photos and remarked, “Pretty offbeat stuff. I’ve heard of them before, and if I remember correctly, there’s some pretty weird stuff on the stones, right?”
Peabody nodded. “Yeah. One of the most prominent features of the Stones is the ‘Ten Guiding Thoughts’ inscribed on them.
The previous photo was replaced with another photo displaying a closer view of the Stones, with three of the ‘Guiding Thoughts’ circled in red. “Most of those are pretty harmless, and a lot of people would probably agree that many of them are good ideas. But the first three, recommending population control, the widespread practice of eugenics, and a single world language constitute some pretty scary concepts for most people.”
He swept a cursor to one of the circled items. “See this? It recommends that we ‘MAINTAIN HUMANITY UNDER 500,000,000’.” He swiped up to reveal a graph showing global population figures. “In case you didn’t know, the current world population is 7.8 billion.”
CJ covered her mouth and gasped. “You mean . . .?”
Malloy nodded grimly. “Yes, Agent Jeong, this group believes in eliminating 92% of the world’s current population!”
The five of them were too stunned to speak for a few moments, pondering all they had just discussed.
Malloy glanced at his watch. The minutes were rapidly ticking away, bringing them all closer to Armageddon. Flint spoke first.
“We’re under four hours to Zero Hour.” He studied Peabody, who was nervously chewing his nails to raw nubs. “Sherm—any way we can isolate those six locations for the ‘Funerals of Doom’?”
Cinder smiled admiringly at Flint. “Did you just make that up? Damn. ‘Funerals of Doom.’ Wish I’d thought of that.”
Flint rolled his eyes at Cinder and pressed on. “If we can isolate the locations of the funerals with the weaponized corpses, we should be able to stop them from exploding using cell phone jamming technology—if we can find them and get to them in time.”
Peabody rushed to a nearby desktop station. “Way ahead of you. I’ve been running a targeted isolation program on the original sender of the message and the six recipients who responded. The sender is most heavily shielded, so I haven’t isolated that yet, but I’m still working.”
“Dammit,” Flint swore under his breath, scrutinizing the other disappointed faces.
“BUT,” Peabody continued, “I have narrowed down the locales of the recipients, and by cross-referencing them with nearby funerals scheduled for 6:00 p.m. today, I have a fairly focused group to choose from.”
Malloy stroked his chin. “Depending upon where they are, we can narrow down the list even further by evaluating the corpses for toxin levels with the devices that most agencies and/or hospitals have readily available.”
“Exactly,” CJ said, her dark eyes flashing with excitement. “We should also be able to use jamming technologies to block any triggering mobile calls until we can secure the bodies.”
“We can place the bodies in blast containment units until they can be disarmed or safely destroyed,” Cinder added. “There could be some resistance from family members about turning over the remains of their loved ones, but I’m guessing saving 92% of the world’s population could be persuasive.”
“Where are the six locations of the recipients, Mr. Peabody?” Malloy asked.
Peabody tapped a tab on his tablet and a list of five cities popped up on the screen: New York, Chicago, Dallas, Los Angeles, and Seattle.
Flint surveyed the list. “Big population centers, all of them, with very mobile and transient populations. Ideal for spreading the contagion.”
Malloy agreed, “Exactly, Mr. Stryker. It looks like we have our work cut out for us.”
“Not as much as you might think, sir,” Peabody said quietly, looking at the figures on his tablets. “Between those five cities, there are only thirty funerals scheduled for today at 6:oo p.m. I’ve already alerted Linchpin operatives in those cities along with Homeland Security, and we have individuals en route to try and find the weaponized bodies as soon as possible.”
Flint grinned at Peabody. “Way to go, Sherm. We could all just go home while you solve this thing.” A troubled look quickly passed over his face like a dark cloud. “But what about the sixth location and the sender of this message—the one who started it all?”
Peabody ran his hand through his tousled brown mop of hair in frustration, dejectedly looking at his tablet. “I just don’t have anything yet, Flint.” He looked up hopefully at the large wall clock. “But we’ve still got over three hours.”
Three hours. Not a helluva lot of time, Flint thought.
He studied the message again, searching for some hidden clue in its meaning.
Reaper 6 @ 1800 hours. Prepare for the Age of Reason<500MM Xxxxxx
He jerked as if he’d been zapped with a defibrillator.
“I’ve got an idea,” Flint said loudly, “It’s crazy, but it’s something.”
“Look at the message,” Flint said, pointing to the desktop monitor where Peabody had mirrored the screen.
Reaper 6 @ 1800 hours. Prepare for the Age of Reason<500MM Xxxxxx
“So?” mused CJ. “We’ve all looked at this message a hundred times already. I’m not seeing anything new.”
Turning to Peabody, Flint queried, “Sherm? You’ve pinpointed five of the six locations so far, right?”
Peabody nodded apprehensively.
“Just
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