Monster In Me (Cryptid Assassin Book 8)

  Monster In Me

  Cryptid Assassin™ Book Eight

  Michael Anderle

  This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Copyright © 2020 Michael Anderle

  Cover Art by Jake @ J Caleb Design

  http://jcalebdesign.com / jcalebdesign@gmail.com

  Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  A Michael Anderle Production

  LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact support@lmbpn.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

  PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  First US edition, July, 2020

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-64971-087-1

  Print ISBN: 978-1-64971-088-8

  The Zoo Universe (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are Copyright (c) 2018-20 by Michael Anderle and LMBPN Publishing.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Author Notes

  Connect with The Authors

  Other Zoo Books

  Books By Michael Anderle

  The Monster In Me Team

  Thanks to our Beta Readers

  Jeff Eaton, John Ashmore, and Kelly O'Donnell

  Thanks to the JIT Readers

  Dorothy Lloyd

  John Ashmore

  Diane L. Smith

  Jeff Goode

  Deb Mader

  Peter Manis

  Jeff Eaton

  If we’ve missed anyone, please let us know!

  Editor

  Skyhunter Editing Team

  Chapter One

  This is exactly why I hate being so close to the ocean. All that money spent on getting my hair perfect is simply wasted. I should have known better, dammit. Everything in her genetics screamed curling hair, and humidity in the air tended to add considerably more body, which rendered all the products she used so rigorously utterly useless in keeping it straight.

  At least this time, she would only be a half-hour at the most. Her plane was only scheduled to stop to refuel. Thanks to the tightening customs regulations in the European Union, she wasn't even supposed to leave the aircraft. Thankfully, in private airstrips like this, they were a little more understanding of the necessity for someone cramped in the tight confines of a plane to take a brief walk and have a quick nicotine fix.

  "Thank you, Andrei," she muttered and as she raised the pale brown cylinder she'd put her bodyguard through the trouble of lighting between her lips.

  "Of course, Miss Chavez."

  She took a deep drag, held her breath for a few seconds, and let her breath out slowly. The acrid smell of the cigarette filled the air around her. She didn't usually indulge in her dirty little habit but there were times that it was needed. Fortunately, she had taken to leaving her pack of imported Sobranies and her lighter with the bodyguards her board of directors insisted she travel with.

  Before she’d smoked even half, the gates of the airstrip were pulled open to admit a long black limo and a gust of wind that cut in from the Mediterranean. It made her shiver, although she wasn't sure which circumstance was the cause. The vehicle was quickly followed by a second limo, which drew in before the gate was shut once again.

  Chavez flicked her long black hair back behind her and stood motionless, waited for the vehicles to approach, and winced reflexively.

  "I can almost feel the humidity adding more body to my hair," she muttered, dropped the cigarette, and crushed it under her shoe.

  Two men exited the vehicles after their security made sure the area was safe. One of them was older—almost ancient, she thought—with what was left of his white hair pulled back to frame his bony head. She could almost see the veins through his translucent skin, but he walked like someone who was well used to moving under his own power despite using an ornate cane with a sapphire-encrusted ivory handle for support.

  The second man was different. He was well-built with no need for padding in the shoulders of his gray suit. His dirty-blond hair was already receding despite him only being halfway through his thirties, but he made no effort to hide it. He carried himself with the kind of attitude that was drawn from an ability to not care what other people thought of his appearance.

  "Caballeros," she greeted them after she’d shaken their hands firmly. "I appreciate you meeting me on such short notice, but as you are well aware, I cannot remain here for too long."

  "We appreciate you having this meeting away from curious and unwelcome eyes and ears, Miss Chavez," the younger man stated in a heavy Serbian accent.

  "Please, call me Sofia," she answered smoothly.

  "And you may call me Matija," he responded.

  "Magnus," the older man introduced himself in what sounded like a Danish accent. "It is a good thing that we are now on a first-name basis with each other, given the business we are to embark on. Trust is of paramount importance at this stage."

  "Agreed." Her hand slid to the pocket she used to carry her cigarettes in and she restrained a grimace when she remembered they were no longer there. Maintaining this kind of business face could be as stressful as anything she had ever done in her life, but her family required it of her. And they had taught her well.

  "Our base of operations has already been set," Matija continued, took a phone proffered by his bodyguard, and handed it to her. She immediately passed it to Magnus. "It is a small island off the coast of Algeria and already has all the infrastructure we need installed. The location was originally used as an airbase for the Allies during the Second World War and was repurposed in 1982 as a nuclear missile silo by the United States government, although no nuclear weapons were ever transported to the island in question."

  "I suppose it would have been a little too much to ask for it to be already running on nuclear power," Sofia grumbled.

  "The solar and wind power stations will be more than sufficient," he assured her. "That is what the island has been used for over the past twenty years, but the bases fell into disrepair and the Algerian president was more than happy to turn them over to us for bananas as long as we promise to sell the electricity produced to them at a good price. Besides, he suddenly needs a quick influx of cash given that he has very unhappy rebels on his hands."

  "Will those rebels be a problem?" Magnus asked.

  "They are funded by the US government and are more interested in the larger population centers and the oil reserves," Matija explained. "They have no interest in the solar and wi
nd farms. We should be safe in our endeavors as long as we continue to pump electricity into the city."

  "It’s a good cover," she noted. "And the extra profit provided should be enough to dissuade them from encouraging any other parties who might show interest in purchasing it."

  "Agreed." Matija drew papers from a briefcase. "I've already had the necessary personnel moved into the facility, and they've worked on repurposing it. The location should be ready for operations in the next few days. I'll let you know when and that will conclude my investment in this project."

  Sofia nodded. "I'm on my way to the American base to see to our investments in the area. While there, I'll purchase the Pita plant we need—I have already identified the likely source and am sure they can be persuaded to supply at least one to start with—and I’ll import the biomass that will be required with the last shipment of soil. The experts I'll bring in have told me that having everything on an isolated location like an island would help with conducting controlled experimentation without the unforeseen variables that affected the original experiment."

  "Affected?" Magnus grunted and tapped his cane on the ground for emphasis. "That is one way to describe the unmitigated fuck-up we now see spreading through the Sahara."

  "On the bright side, that fuck-up is what allows us to have access to the non-terrestrial substance that was denied us in the last round of bidding." She tapped her thigh lightly. If they finished this meeting quickly, she would have time for one more smoke before taking off again. "With that in mind, we should have complete control of the biological product that is exposed to the liquid extracted. The lessons learned in the Sahara experiment will serve us well in that regard. Providing the goop, as it is called, the specialists, and the biological material required for testing as well as the fertile soil meant to cultivate what we produce will conclude my investment in this project."

  Sofia and Matija both turned their eyes on the older man as he tapped the ground lightly with his cane.

  Finally, the old man spoke. "The security personnel are already en route to a way station, after which they will be transported to the island in question. Consultants have already discussed the possibility of outside governments interfering with our project, and they suggested a terror tactic."

  She narrowed her eyes. "Please don't tell me we'll have to fund terrorists. Not again."

  "Nothing like that. Our purchase of alien biomass is illegal, and the creation of more of our own is even more so. With that said, every country on earth wants what the Zoo produces, but none would like to have it produced on their soil, if you will. The threat of that would mean having strict sanctions imposed, as no other country would want to trade with one that could be transporting alien…spores or something across their borders. Such tactics should keep our investment in this project safe until we are willing to liquidate said investment."

  It wouldn’t be the end of the man's involvement. Sofia had worked with Magnus for a while now and knew that he wouldn't simply stop at seeing a return. He would milk this for every cent it was worth and turn it in for the insurance money when he’d bled it dry.

  But pointing that out to him wouldn’t end well. She'd seen what happened to the partners who challenged him. There was a reason why he was still at the head of an empire when his children's children were having kids of their own.

  The old man's attention turned to her directly, and she had to resist the urge to pull away from the intense gaze. "What happened to Levinson's concern over the project? Has his curiosity been sufficiently satisfied or will he need to be otherwise handled?"

  Sofia sniffed. "No. When he asked, I had proof that what I was working on was a cannabis project, meant to genetically design higher-grade marijuana plants for sale. That stopped him cold, although he had a weird look on his face. I think he might have assumed I was stupid for the attempt since the market has already been flooded with genetically designed weed products. Or maybe he simply thought I was getting high on my supply."

  Magnus scowled. "He could still be a problem in the future."

  "I doubt it, but if he is, I will handle it. It's too early for us to drop bodies, especially the kind that will be investigated under a microscope by federal agencies, local police departments, and about a dozen different insurance companies around the world. They ruin my dinner party schedule."

  He was clearly not convinced, but he knew as well as she did that they couldn't afford to have curious eyes focused on how they spent their time outside of attending official functions.

  "Very well, then," he said and tapped his cane decisively on the tarmac. "I believe this concludes our meeting. It is best for us to not be seen together if at all possible. You may contact me in a more secure manner later once everything is set up on the island."

  Another tap of the cane—which she should be used to by now but which irritated the shit out of her—showed the end of the conversation as Magnus turned and moved to his limo. The door was already open and waiting for him and he climbed inside without a second's hesitation.

  "Until we meet again." Matija offered a small bow to her before he turned away, and in less than a minute, both vehicles had left the airstrip.

  Sofia turned to the men waiting for her. Andrei already had her pack of cigarettes and the lighter out and lit one for her, and she took a deep drag before she exhaled slowly.

  "Fuck, I don't know why I ever tried to quit," she whispered, closed her eyes, and enjoyed the sea breeze for the first time since she’d landed. "When can we get the hell out of here?"

  "Refueling should be another five minutes, ma'am."

  "Thanks."

  This was only a way station before what was bound to be the more difficult part of her trip. The fact was much more difficult to process. She would need to have a nice long vacation somewhere cold when she was finished with this, not somewhere warm and sunny. No, somewhere cold and with snow, preferably in Switzerland.

  She finished the second cigarette and felt the buzz in her body from the nicotine starting to calm her.

  "I think we should board now, Miss Chavez."

  She nodded, flicked the cigarette away this time, and watched it bounce across the tarmac. Andrei fell in behind her as she turned on her heel and hurried to where the plane's steps were still in place for her to board once more.

  There was no point in lingering for some customs official to decide to ground her and make sure she wasn't carrying something illegal. She wasn't, but the delay would simply not be acceptable.

  "You do see why this is a concern, right? I don't need to explain it to you."

  Niki could hear Jennie sigh over the phone despite the whining of airplane engines behind her.

  "Of course I do, Niki, but you don't need to worry about Desk. She's more than capable of taking care of herself."

  "Someone tried to hack into her servers. Someone from inside the DOD. They attempted to get their hands on her code."

  Her sister laughed. "And were rewarded with about fifteen terabytes of midget bondage porn for their efforts."

  "Do I even want to know—"

  "She keeps it in reserve in case someone tries something with her. Plus, it's almost impossible to delete, so the chances are the person is hopefully saddled with a host of not safe for work content they can't explain until they go ahead and reformat their computer."

  "Honestly, that sounds like something Vickie would do."

  "Who the hell do you think taught Vickie everything she knows?" the woman responded with a laugh that sounded smug rather than apologetic.

  The agent tugged absently at her hair and nodded. "Okay, fair point. Still, it worries me that someone thinks they can get away with trying to steal some of her code. And why the hell would they want to do that?"

  "Because the DOD has paid out of their noses to get their hands on decent AI software lately, and someone probably thought they could get a promotion or something if they simply took advantage of the fact that they're housing one of the most advanced
AIs in the world in one of their servers. Not only that, they’d have been sorely disappointed. Both Desk and I have agreed that she shouldn’t be limited to a single server and have taken steps to secure critical code in various other locations, some of which even I am not aware of. I have to say—and sadly, I cannot receive the accolades I deserve—I have created an AI that exceeds even my expectations."

  "A little full of ourselves, aren't we?"

  "Can you honestly tell me Desk isn't the best AI you've ever worked with?"

  "Well, sure, but given that I haven't worked with too many AI's in the past, that bar isn't set very high."

  "Well, take it from my considerable technical expertise that Desk is among the best in the world. It took me years to develop her. Besides, do you think I would have anything but the best looking out for my baby sister?"

  "Wha—you're my baby sister!"

  "Yeah, keep telling yourself that."

  Jansen walked slowly to where she stood and looked a little uncomfortable that he’d overheard her conversation with Jennie. She smirked when she reminded herself that he at least put on a good show of looking uncomfortable. It was very unlikely that the man was anything other than perfectly comfortable with overhearing what other people were saying, given his former role as an intelligence asset.