Deadly Undertaking, Allen Gregory [books for 6 year olds to read themselves txt] 📗

Cinder gave Flint a salute as he prepared to enter the contaminated lab. He was carrying a bulky case containing the materials and equipment he used to analyze explosive debris. Cinder’s cheery voice echoed through the room’s loudspeakers as Linchpin’s CSI unit scurried around the room. “Hey! Stryker! How about after I’m done we go get a late lunch? Are you up for some curry?”

Flint’s stomach performed several convolutions as he imagined a steaming platter of Chicken Chettinad or Phall Curry being placed before him. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to erase the image and stifle the hot gush of acid reflux.

“Asshole,” Flint muttered as he saw the CSI techs glance over their shoulders at him, huge grins on their faces.

“Funny guy,” Flint scoffed. “Let me know what you find, Cinder. I think I got a lead from Sherman that looks promising.”

“Copy that, buddy.” Cinder busied himself with the task of analyzing what little evidence remained.

Doctor Malloy motioned Flint over. “I’ve done a very rudimentary analysis of the toxins which were released in the room after the explosion, Mr. Stryker. The short story is, the toxins are all man-made and not consistent with any known viral pathogens. I’ll need to spend more time analyzing the microorganisms in greater detail, but suffice it to say, the toxins are fast-acting, very deadly, and highly contagious. Had the explosion taken place at Mr. Romero’s funeral, dozens would have been killed outright by the blast, and hundreds would have been infected by the spread of the contagion within minutes.”

Flint stared at Malloy, his mouth open in shock. “Everything that happened in here was all contained though, right?”

“Yes,” Malloy said evenly. “But, Mr. Stryker, had this happened in an unprotected environment, say, Mr. Romero’s funeral service, thousands would have been dead within hours. Once infected, it’s a short time before death occurs. The pathogens can be transmitted via clothing, skin, virtually any surface. Borne on the wind, the toxins could infect millions in days. Worst-case scenario? The death toll would be incalculable.”

Malloy’s face was grim as he sighed. “Now. What was it you said Mr. Peabody might have uncovered?”

Flint held his phone up to Dr. Malloy’s face, displaying the picture he’d taken of Peabody’s monitor with the cryptic message he’d uncovered. “This message was uploaded to the Dark Web within thirty seconds of the explosion. Those six X’s? Sherman says that are acknowledgments that the message was received.”

“Can he determine the source of the message and responses?” Malloy asked.

“Sherman says that normally, stuff on the Dark Web is highly encrypted, and is hard to track down. But he thinks he can find the sources relatively quickly. He says he knows . . .‘some tricks.’”

Malloy smiled and nodded. “Yes. I imagine he does. I’m grateful for our young Mr. Peabody. You know, when I found him, he was living alone . . .”

Flint’s mobile chirruped, interrupting Dr. Malloy’s reverie. He glanced at the caller ID and saw SHERMAN PEABODY. “Speak of the devil,” Flint mumbled.

“What’s up Sherm?” Malloy watched Flint’s face go from mild annoyance to complete shock within seconds. “Got it. We’ll be right there.”

“What is it, Mr. Stryker?” a concerned Malloy queried.

“Looks like the first one was just a test. There are six more scheduled for five o’clock. Unless we stop them, your worst-case scenario will become a reality.”

Six

Flint and Dr. Malloy arrived at Peabody’s station in Communications/IT within minutes. They were confronted by the nervous figure of the young IT genius pacing back and forth, intently focusing on the tablet in his hand. Flint glanced up at the monitor, which displayed the contents of Sherman’s tablet screen. Windows were being opened, closed, and swept aside with such dizzying speed Flint couldn’t imagine how the young man could make any sense of it.

The two men stood watching Peabody closely, searching for any clue to his success. Peabody gave no indication, his furrowed brow giving his youthful face the appearance of total concentration. He abruptly stopped and exhaled loudly. Flint realized that the whole time they had been watching him, Sherman had been holding his breath.

“All right—done!”

Malloy and Flint looked at Peabody expectantly. Finally, Flint offered, “And . . .?”

Looking up from his tablet, Peabody appeared genuinely surprised to see them. “Oh! I didn’t realize you were here. Sorry!” He reddened, embarrassed that he had been so preoccupied.

“It’s all right, Mr. Peabody,” Dr. Malloy smiled. “We appreciate your focus and attention to detail. I gather you achieved some success with whatever it is that you are doing?”

Peabody nodded nervously. “Yes, sir. I was able to isolate the sender and the recipients of the messages earlier. I placed a digital object identifier nested within their e-data signal, which will enable me to track them surreptitiously. They’ll never know it, but we’ll be able to precisely pinpoint their locations sooner rather than later.”

Malloy glanced at his watch. “It’s a little after one o’clock now. When do you think we might know more?”

Peabody studied the progress indicator on his tablet. “If I had to guess, I ‘d say in the next thirty or forty minutes, Dr. Malloy. Unfortunately, that’s the best I can do right now.”

Malloy placed a reassuring hand on Peabody’s shoulder. A huge smile split his craggy face as he said, “Excellent, young man! I know you’ll keep us informed of any headway you make going forward.”

Peabody lowered his eyes and blushed again.

Malloy turned to Flint. “Now, Mr. Stryker, I think we should go and see if our friend Mr. Porterhouse has made any progress with his examination.”

As they turned to leave, a low digital tone caught their attention, and the two men turned to see Peabody’s eyes wide in shock, staring at the monitor above them. They turned on their heels to see the following message:

GUIDER test_1 detonated @ 1200 hours. Infection unsuccessful. Reaper 6 @ 1800 hours. Prepare for the Age of Reason.

Seven

All three men stared at the mysterious message in shock. They were further dismayed to see the six X’s appear within thirty seconds after the original message’s posting.

GUIDER test_1 detonated @ 1200 hours. Infection unsuccessful. Reaper 6 @ 1800 hours. Prepare for the Age of Reason<500MM Xxxxxx

“Whoever’s involved has acknowledged receiving the message. And what the hell does that even mean?” Flint muttered somberly.

“Yes,” Dr. Malloy agreed. He turned abruptly to Peabody, causing him to jump slightly. “Mr. Peabody, please give this matter your utmost and diligent attention in the short term. We must decipher this message and determine its origin posthaste.”

Peabody nodded and returned his attention to his tablet.

Malloy motioned Flint to join him as they headed back to the lab. As they were walking, Flint studied Malloy’s worried face and asked, “Are Seven and Serafina aware of what’s happened?”

Malloy nodded and replied, “Yes, they are Mr. Stryker. But they are at an undisclosed location involved in a mission that I’m not at liberty to discuss. I feel certain that they expect us to handle this situation without disrupting their mission.”

If Seven, who is the titular head of Linchpin, is involved, it must be a really big deal. If Serafina, who is one of the deadliest assassins in the world, is involved, something really bad must be going down. So, if that was supposed to lower my stress level, it didn’t work.

Flint wondered aloud, “Maybe Cinder had some luck with his research, Doc.”

“For all of our sakes, I certainly hope so, Mr. Stryker.”

Returning to the lab, they saw scores of lab technicians hustling about the room, testing all the surfaces, evaluating the air quality, and running computer simulations. As Dr. Malloy entered, one of the techs handed him a tablet before resuming his task.

Malloy scoured the tablet, his bushy eyebrows rising occasionally in surprise, at other times knitting together in concern. “It appears that the safety equipment and protocols in place did their job. The good news is, our bio-hazard team indicates that the pathogens were completely contained and securely stored. The bad news is that their real-time assessment also concurs with my initial evaluation that the toxins are all man-made and not consistent with any known strains of viral pathogens.”

“Any chance you can identify the toxins more