Bloodshot - Cherie Priest [51]
Then a lightbulb popped brightly over my head. Metaphorically, you know.
The only people who knew about Holzter Point were the folks involved in the military projects that were documented and destroyed there. Somebody has to sign off on all that stuff, and the military is nothing if not fond of its paper trails. It might shred all the paper in the end, but everything gets written down someplace.
By someone.
Therefore it struck me as a strong chance that The Other Thief was someone who’d been party to the experiments at Jordan Roe in Florida.
I jotted this thought down in my trusty notebook, reminding myself that I was looking for a wayward military man … but military men come in many flavors. Maybe he wasn’t a soldier. Call it a hunch, but something told me I was looking for a former researcher or scientist collaborator—maybe someone with a conscience, or someone with an ax to grind.
The prospect of a grinding ax gave me another option that hadn’t dawned on me yet: The Other Thief could have a connection to a victim of the program, maybe one of the other vampires (or other creatures) who were held and tested. I already knew that the military’s suspect wasn’t a victim of the program because of his serial number. But he could’ve been a friend or lover.
Lots of possibilities there.
I gathered the paperwork together. There wasn’t much to hold, and there was even less to call important or helpful. But I had enough to find my way inside a place that was every bit as secretive as the spot where Top Government Officials told Indiana Jones they were “examining” the Ark of the Covenant.
I didn’t know what I’d find when I got inside—maybe nothing—but I didn’t have any better ideas and I didn’t dare try to contact Ian for further brainstorming. Not yet.
I checked my email, though, on the off chance he might’ve sent me something. I didn’t recall having ever sent him my digital address, but then again I never sent him my bricks-and-mortar address either, and he’d turned that up no problem. A girl can dream, can’t she?
A girl can be disappointed, too. Nothing new or important.
Then I remembered I had a Hotmail address, and I’d even handed it out recently. I hopped online and went to my inbox, where lo and behold I had an email from EABruner via gmail. That struck me as funny. I had to assume the guy had an official email through a work account, but he shoots me a note from something as fake as the addy I’d given him. Nice.
It read:
All right, kid. You want to come out and play? Let’s talk. You’ve caught me at a disadvantage here since you know my name and I don’t know yours, but Trevor said he had friends who might be interested, so here’s how it works.
This is not a military operation. It’s a civilian operation operated and financed by civilians, which I can say with a straight face because I’m no longer on active duty. So don’t get any big commando ideas in your head. This isn’t like that, and if it was, I sure as hell wouldn’t bother to write a girl about it.
We’re looking into some properties around the country, including Seattle. We want people who can get inside, maybe take some pictures, maybe just report back about what’s inside. We need people who aren’t afraid of a little trouble. If you get picked up by the cops you’re on your own. We aren’t bailing you out. But I’ve attached a document to this email. Look it over. It’ll tell you about King County’s laws with regards to trespassing and breaking-and-entering. You’d be surprised what you can get away with when you know your rights.
Just so we’re clear, not everyplace we want investigated is abandoned. You might run into people, guard dogs, surveillance systems … God knows what. If you’re not afraid of spending a night in the clink, or if you think you’re good enough that you won’t get caught, read over that document and write me back.
~EB
PS: How well do you know Trevor? I haven’t heard a goddamn thing from him in several days. Tell that asshole to call