TWENTY-ONE
Zeb
When I arrive at the conference room, it’s alive and buzzing with activity. Mitzy’s there with four of her team, gathered around the conference table, talking amongst themselves. She’s at the head of the table, not leading any conversation but arguing over which of the dozens of screens she wants information displayed on.
A familiar energy fills the room: anticipation melding with apprehension. It’s always like this when we launch a new operation. This first session is about building out a basic profile and looking for anything concerning that might point to difficulties down the road.
Mitzy notices my entrance and smiles. Her psychedelic pixie hair sparkles under the bright halogen bulbs that light the room. The aroma of ozone from multiple computers, as their servers chew through data at an incredible speed, laces the air. Mixed in with that are the various smells of cheap cologne and breath mints from Mitzy’s team.
Bravo team avoids artificial scents. It’s one of any number of things with the potential to alert the enemy to our presence. As for Bravo team we’re all here, minus one. Brady, Booker, Rafe, Hayes, and I sit around the table. Alec’s on leave, doing whatever it is he does for fun.
“You’re the last one here.” Mitzy points to one of the chairs. “Take a seat.”
“Where’s CJ? Sam?” I look at Brady, concerned they’re not here, but then maybe Kaye’s crazy stalker-ex isn’t important to the top brass?
“Working another issue.” Brady rubs the back of his neck.
“Are we waiting for them?” I glance around the room, listening to the half-dozen side conversations going on between Mitzy and her team.
“No.” Brady leans back and shifts in his seat. “They said to get started.”
I slide into a chair and make myself comfortable.
Mitzy opens up several screens that line the walls, pulling up demographic data and pertinent information about Professor Scott Parker. The data scrolls in a near-endless stream, too fast for me to pick up on any particular details.
“Got anything good?” I expect little from this first meeting. It’s focused on establishing a baseline more than anything else.
“Nothing good,” Mitzy mutters, fiddling with her display, pulling up multiple files. “A forest of red flags.”
I love the way her fingers fly over the keys. It’s nearly hypnotic and too fast to follow.
Booker shakes his head as he reviews Parker’s social media accounts. “This guy is a total tool. No shortage of ego.” He taps his tablet, sharing the screen with Rafe. “Thinks a lot of himself.”
“What do you see?” Sitting opposite them, I can’t see what they’re looking at.
Booker flips the tablet around and I jerk back in alarm. “What the fuck is that?”
Desiccated human remains fill the screen. Parker stands proudly next to a pit dug into the ground and several buckets holding the remnants of mummified bodies. Human bones fill the pit and appear to be in various stages of decomposition.
A huge smile fills Parker’s face and the caption reads, Funded for another three years. Thank you, NIH.
Standing next to him is a man I’ve never seen before. He holds a bucket filled with human skulls, tilting the bucket outward so the camera can take the picture. Inside, dried and mummified, human heads stack up like cantaloupes. They’re a morbid, and graphic, representation of what they once were. Skulls covered in brittle, leathery skin with wisps of hair falling into empty eye sockets.
“That,” Mitzy says, “is Professor Scott Parker celebrating the renewal of his NIH funding.”
“And who is the other guy?”
“I’ll give you two guesses.” Brady pulls at his chin, eyeing me.
“Two guesses? How the fuck would I know…” Then it hits. The pit in the bottom of my stomach opens up as dread slithers down my spine. “That wouldn’t be the dean of UC Davis’s vet school?”
“Dean Robert Jones Alder. Nice work.” Booker curls his fingers and checks out his nails. He flicks a ragtag button toward Brady, who catches it midair. “Took me three guesses, and you got it in one.”
“Kaye mentioned Scott was friends with the dean. I didn’t realize they were research buddies. What the hell are they doing grinning like lunatics, holding human remains, and posting the whole gruesome thing on social media? And isn’t he a veterinarian? What’s he doing with human remains?”
“That is something we’re trying to piece together.” Mitzy takes a seat at the head of the table. “You know, one day—just one day…” She lifts her pointer finger for emphasis. “One day, I’d love to come to work, and have myself proven wrong.”
“What do you mean?” I drum my fingers on the table, not liking the direction the conversation heads.
“Professor Scott Parker is creepy. He’s a small, creepy man, taking advantage of his students, and playing with human remains,” she says.
My gut raises all kinds of red flags on its own. No need for Mitzy to raise any for me.
“Instead of killers, human traffickers, and thieves, I’d love to come across some boring average Joe who wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Mitzy leans back with a sigh. “Just another day in the office, and it sucks. I’m telling Forest I need a raise.”
“Are you saying Professor Parker isn’t an everyday Joe?”
“I’m saying he’s a creepy ass and a bastard.” She gestures behind her. “Suspicion, conjecture, and a healthy dose of realism has me heading down dark paths. Every time, I think I’m going to prove myself wrong—that there are still good people in the world—I reconfirm this is a shitty place to raise my kids.” Her voice trails off, and she holds up a hand, palm facing out. “I digress, and I’m getting ahead of myself.”
“Meaning?” I look to Brady.
“Meaning, we’ve got our work cut out for us on this one.” Brady shifts in his seat. “Not a good day in the office today, boys.”
“What are you not saying?” I don’t like the tone in his voice. It’s feels like I got here too late and am half a step behind. I missed out on the important bits.
“Maybe we could take a few steps back?” I look around the conference table, looking for clues in the expressions of those gathered. “I need a recap.”
“Conjecture only at this point, based on patterns of behavior.” Mitzy closes her eyes and pauses before continuing. “Nothing solid. Definitely no proof. But it’s sketch, and you know how I feel when things don’t add up.”
“You dig until you get to the bottom of it.” We all know she’s the best of the best, a tenacious opponent. For the hundredth time, I’m glad I’m on her side.
Mitzy runs our technical team, but there’s far more than that involved. She oversees an intelligence team rivaling what the CIA or FBI have combined. Then there’s her team of eclectic technical geniuses. Recruited from across the country, they lead the forefront of up-and-coming technologies. From her VR suite, to her drones—her dragon Smaug to her tiny dragonflies—to enhanced optics, robotics, and invisibility shields, her operation is impressive.