CHAPTER XIV
Complications
Dr. Mark Sheffield sat alone in a diner booth, waiting for his contact to arrive as he munched on a cheeseburger. Whatever information the contact had better be good; better anyway than the lousy cheeseburger. This place was a very poor place to meet someone; it had a limited menu and terrible food. Its only redeeming feature was that it was the closest restaurant to the Mohawk Reservation where Running Bear was on assignment.
Before the cheeseburger Sheffield had already been grumpy: it had taken him three and a half hours to drive to the Adirondacks from the Manhattan NSA office, where he was following up on reports of giant mutant alligators and vampire bats nesting in the subways. They were true rumors, unfortunately. Now the city was never sleeping due to nightlife of an unwanted sort. But even a big city full of panicked complaining citizens and mutant bats and alligators was preferable to being where he was now. Here it was thirty degrees colder, the snow was drifting, and more new snow was forecast.
He hated field work, and longed to be back in his nice warm NSA laboratory, supervising the scientists trying to make biological sense of what the hell was going on around the country. Unfortunately since his untimely promotion a year ago, he was also saddled with management duties, including managing his little force of rogue agents that were trying to find Jerry Green before anyone else did.
While his NSA bosses, the FBI and others had it in mind to crudely prosecute and imprison the rogue gene splicer or even kill him; Sheffield had it in mind to secretly recruit him. Jerry had his principles that included distrust of the Government, but the man was living on the run and working out of garages and cheap motels. The prospect of a real lab and virtually unlimited Government-funded resources would bring Jerry Green to heal, Sheffield was convinced. After all, it had done so for him. With Jerry Green on his science staff, there would be no limit to what they could do to save mankind from the evils that were beginning to ravage the planet. Besides, Jerry was the key to understanding and dealing with the jants. Reports were coming in nation-wide that the huge ants gene-spiced into existence by Green were establishing themselves everywhere, with unknown environmental consequences.
But first he had to find Jerry Green, and he had to do it off the books, using several agents that could be personally trusted to bend NSA rules when necessary. One of his best was John Running Bear. The stoic Mohican had one weakness: his unflagging loyalty to the welfare of Native Americans. He and the Mohican had a deal: he would steer the NSA away from Native American communities and affairs, and Running Bear would find Jerry Green, if the bioterrorist was hiding somewhere among Native Americans.
The call from the Mohawk Reservation earlier that day had been a surprise. Running Bear wasn't due to check in for another day, unless something important came up. The most surprising thing about the call was that although it was made using Running Bear's satellite phone, it wasn't made by Running Bear.
"You are Dr. Sheffield, the NSA boss of John Running Bear?" asked the middle aged Native American woman that abruptly appeared at his booth.
"If I am I wouldn't make a public announcement to that effect!" Sheffield retorted quietly, though fortunately the diner was nearly deserted. "You must be Singing Moon?"
The woman retrieved an object from her coat pocket and showed it to Sheffield before returning it to a shirt pocket. It was John's NSA satellite phone. "I am she," she replied, as she took off her heavy winter coat and made herself comfortable by sitting down in the booth opposite Sheffield. "Did you bring me what I requested?"
"It's in the trunk of my car," Sheffield replied," but you need to explain to me what's going on before I'll let you have any of it. For instance why didn't Running Bear call for himself, and why does he need all those explosives?"
"I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but Running Bear seeks to betray the NSA.'
"Really? How so?"
She pulled a second small device from the robe-like clothing she wore. "This is a recording of Running Bear speaking with our Tribe leaders." In the recording she played, Running Bear pledged to two other speakers to keep Tribe secrets from the NSA in exchange for any information on Jerry Green and the jants. They also mentioned that jants were on the Reservation.
That all sounded perfectly reasonable to Sheffield; it was in perfect keeping with his agreements with the man. There was another thing about the Mohican known by Sheffield; he was absurdly honest. The Mohican sometimes omitted facts or stretched word meanings, but other than that, Sheffield trusted his word. Generally speaking, Sheffield and the NSA didn't give a rat's ass about Tribe secrets, and the jants were everywhere now. They wanted Green. He was startled to hear his name mentioned, however. "Where did the Tribe get my name?"
"The squeaky voice in the recording is that of my Mother, who can read the thoughts of others. Running Bear must have thought of you while he was being interrogated. In any case the Mohican plans to keep Tribe secrets from you: secrets that I will report directly to you, if you meet my price."
Mind reading? He had frequently investigated such claims, and they never panned out. Telepathy didn't exist. But what were the Tribe secrets? "What is your price and what will I get for it?"
"Use your Government influence to make me sole Chief of the Tribe. In return you will possess Tribe secrets, secrets that the Tribe has kept for many centuries."
"If the NSA values the secrets high enough, your price can be met. What are the secrets? And why would they interest the NSA?"
"The Stone-Coat Ice Giants wake and attack my people. That is of interest to you because if the Giants are not stopped on the Reservation they will also attack your people."
"Giants?" This woman was truly looney! "Really?"
"The Stone-Coats have slept for centuries, but now they wake. White-man weapons are needed to stop them. Invade the Reservation with your Army and destroy the Stone-Coats forever. You will be a hero among the white men; I will be a hero among my people for saving them and leading them to a new life within your world. Deal?"
She was delusional and perhaps downright crazy. He decided to continue to humor her. In a short time he would drive away from this place and never see her again. Of course he would definitely not give her the explosives intended for Running Bear that were in the trunk of his car. "Deal. But I'll keep the explosives for now. They require experts that know how to use them. I'll send my own men to you and Running Bear with the explosives. Return the satellite phone to Running Bear and I'll give him a direct order to support you."
"Of course," Singing Moon replied. "When will the Army get here?
"By late tomorrow, I estimate." It was as good a lie as any.
"Excellent! I'll be in touch." With that she got up and left.
Sheffield was relieved to see her go; he never felt comfortable around crazy people. , He heard a snowmobile start up outside and pull away. He quickly finished his by now cold cheeseburger and went out to his car. With luck he would be in New York City in a few hours and find some decent food in a real dinner.
"Crap!" he exclaimed. His trunk was empty and the explosives were gone. It was enough explosives to blow up the village of Giants' Rest and kill hundreds of people! He should contact Running Bear about the woman and the explosives, but Running Bear didn't have his encrypted phone, the looney woman did, and Sheffield had very little confidence that she would return it to him. He tried to phone her but nobody answered.
So now what? There were no additional NSA agents that he could trust nearby, and he certainly wasn't about to acquire a snowmobile himself and go onto the Reservation. It would be dark soon and he didn't know how to drive a snowmobile or even where to get one. This operation was off the books. Calling the police or the FBI was totally out of the question. No, Running Bear would have to handle this. The Mohican was to report in tomorrow and no doubt he would find a way to do so, if he was still alive tomorrow. What if the Mohican didn't call? He would figure that out tomorrow only if he had too.