Deadly Undertaking, Allen Gregory [books for 6 year olds to read themselves txt] 📗
- Author: Allen Gregory
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Peabody glanced at his tablet. “Yes. Yes, they do.”
“So I’m guessing those five are secondary in the hierarchy of this group. But the location represented by the capital X also responded to the message as if it were on the recipient chain, didn’t it?”
Checking again, Peabody confirmed that in fact, it did.
Flint narrowed his eyes, looking at the others. “I believe that the capital X, the as-of-yet unidentified locale, is also the originator of the message. I think the capitalization distinguishes it from the other locations. I think its response is sort of like the carbon copy function on an email. Just sending itself a copy.”
Peabody nodded slowly, the idea taking hold. “Well sure, it’s possible. It could be that’s where the message originated from.”
Flint spread his palms to the group. “Perhaps if the same location sent and received, the message will make targeting that location easier, Sherm.”
Peabody chewed his lower lip as he began keystroking commands into the desktop. “Give me a little bit and I’ll see if I can run it down.”
“Excellent work, Mr. Stryker,“ Malloy said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with our operatives in those five cities to determine our success rate in finding the sabotaged bodies.”
“God, this is awful,” CJ grimaced.
“I know. Imagine six bodies loaded with killer pathogens and explosives out in the public,” Flint said.
“No. That’s not what I meant,” CJ said flatly.
“What?” Flint asked, looking at her quizzically.
“If you’re right about this, you’ll be even more insufferable than you already are.”
Cinder alternated his gaze between Flint and CJ as if he were watching a tennis match. “Is that even possible?”
Later, Flint and CJ stood in Malloy’s office as he was surveying messages from Linchpin field operatives on his desktop.
“The good news is, we’ve pinpointed the five weaponized corpses and identified the funeral services at risk. Some excellent database work spearheaded by Mr. Peabody cross-referenced funeral parlors who’ve had employees go missing in the last few days. This information coupled with funerals scheduled for 6:00 p.m. did the trick. Explosive and biohazard teams are in place with cell phone jamming equipment and containment units for the bodies. New York, Chicago, Dallas, Los Angeles, and Seattle threats have all been effectively neutralized.”
“What about Cinder?” Flint asked.
“Mr. Porterhouse is in charge of facilitating the disabling of the explosives. All of them will be brought to our lab outside of Atlanta, to be handled there.”
“Will the families ever be able to bury their loved ones?” CJ asked. “I know under the current circumstances that’s the least of our worries, but still . . .”
“At this point, Ms. Jeong, no one knows. We hope that eventually the remains can be returned to their loved ones, but it’s too early to say.” Malloy glanced at the display and tutted, “Apparently Mr. Peabody still hasn’t positively identified the sixth location.” He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, sighing loudly. “I suppose I’d better prepare a protocol for the worst-case scenario in case this body is detonated. You two had better leave me to it.”
CJ and Flint excused themselves and left Malloy in his office. As they walked slowly down the hallway headed back to the Communications Center, CJ busied herself on her mobile.
“What are you looking at?” Flint asked, sneaking a glance at her mobile. “Are you admiring those photos of me without my shirt on? I know you keep them on your phone.” He grinned broadly at her as she screwed up her face in disgust.
“Flint, you can be such a pig!” Flint laughed as she continued. “If you must know, I am reading a little more about the Guidestones. According to a marker at the location, the Guidestones were created by ‘a small group of Americans who seek the Age of Reason.’ Pretty strange stuff, if you ask me.”
“Yeah. Not your run-of-the-mill focus group,” Flint added. “Any time you advocate wiping out 92% of the world’s population, that puts you in a category all by yourself.”
They both glanced simultaneously at the wall clock. The minutes were rapidly melting away. Soon, it would be time to implement Dr. Malloy’s worst-case protocols.
“I wish Sherman would hurry up,” CJ said worriedly. “This standing around waiting is driving me crazy. I’ve never felt so helpless.”
“Me too,” Flint agreed. “But listen, if anybody can figure this out, it’s Sherman. I know he’s quirky—offbeat, or whatever—but the guy is amazing.”
“I know he is Flint, but we’re talking about an End-of-Days-type event here. This is not about running down some idealistic terrorist with a political grudge. We’re talking about some group that wants to change the whole destiny of humankind. I’m worried this may be over Sherman’s pay grade.”
Flint shrugged. “Maybe. But he’s the best hope we’ve got right now.” He put his hand on CJ’s forearm, turning her towards him. “He did find five of the six so far. We’re close, I can feel it.”
CJ’s eyes teared up as she stared into Flint’s face. “But Flint—in this case, close won’t cut it.”
Suddenly Flint’s mobile buzzed. Glancing at the screen he said, “Speak of the devil.”
“Tell me something good, Sherm,” Flint demanded as he and CJ stood before Peabody.
The tech guru cleared his throat. “I’m sorry it took so long, Flint. There were a lot of back-door hacks I had to . . .”
Flint held up his hands. “Cut to the chase, Sherm, we gotta know what we’re gonna do—and sooner rather than later.”
“Sorry.” Peabody lowered his head, his voice barely audible.
Flint winced. He saw the uber-shy young man’s face and knew he’d hurt his feelings. “No, Sherm, I’m sorry. But we have to do something—soon—or it will be too late.” Flint studied Peabody’s face and he knew he was processing his anxiety, and he hoped it would be quick enough.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Peabody replied, handing Flint and CJ each a sheet with the information they needed. “You’re going to need to requisition the Sikorsky to get you there. It’s about an hour and a half drive from our headquarters here in Atlanta—in Elbert County, Georgia. The Sikorsky can get you there much quicker.”
Flint and CJ were aghast. Flint almost shouted in disbelief. “The whole time they’ve been right here in our backyard?”
“That’s right. ‘Hide in plain sight.’ That’s always the way, isn’t it? Wherever is least likely,” Peabody said.
“But Elbert County, Georgia? Sherman, it’s hardly a bustling metropolis,” CJ said.
“No time for a Chamber of Commerce comparison, CJ. We need to move—fast! Thanks, Sherm! You’re a genius!”
Within twenty minutes, the two of them were airborne in Linchpin’s Sikorsky S-97 Raider helicopter, headed towards Elberton, Georgia. The pilot and co-pilot knew the urgency of their mission, and they had the copter at full throttle. Wearing headphones to drown out the noise of the engine and rotors, Flint and CJ reviewed what they knew.
“There’s a huge funeral scheduled for 6:00 p.m. in the Elbert County Stadium—the ‘Granite Bowl’,” Flint shouted into his headset. “It’s the area’s largest sports venue used by local sports teams and seats about 20,000, and it’s made completely out of granite.”
“So who’s the funeral for? Why does he merit an outdoor funeral attended by thousands of people?” CJ asked.
“According to Sherman’s intel, the lucky corpse is Wendell Cone, a wealthy philanthropist who’s lived in the area all of his life. Very involved in the community and spent a lot of money in the area. It was always suspected that he might have been one of the people behind the construction of the Guidestones.”
Flint continued, “He died late last week after a long bout with pancreatic cancer. He was well-known by everyone in town, and there’s a rumor going around about an announcement that ol’ Wendell left stipulations for a ‘special gift’ for all those who attend the funeral.” He arched his eyebrow at CJ. “Since he’s a billionaire, I’m sure everyone thinks it’s money.”
CJ shook her head. “So, greed will be the thing that potentially costs everyone their lives today, and causes them to be the carriers for a toxin that
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