Arcadian Genesis by Greig Beck Read Free Book Online

the end. He came in low and fast, keeping the gun up in front of him.
    The first thing Alex noticed was the smell: blood, burnt flesh and excrement – the smell of human torture. The three HAWCs, all in now, moved quickly through the rooms, noting the damage to the house and the bodies. Alex pressed a stud in his ear and whispered.
    ‘Three down, all non-Package. Signs of extreme interrogation; assume our primary Package either taken or gone elsewhere.’
    ‘Confirmed,’ Bronson responded. ‘Continue investigation for signs of secondary Package.’ Alex pulled a small Geiger counter from a pouch and snapped it to a band on his wrist. This allowed him to keep his gun up in a two-handed grip while reading the signals off the small flat box. They were only slightly higher than normal; this suggested the secondary Package might have been there, but was now gone.
    Bill Singer stopped over the smallest body. ‘Jesus Christ.’ The boy had probably been tortured in front of his parents. He was missing seven of his fingers – either he’d lost that many before they talked, or his small heart had given out, his usefulness exhausted. Not standard Russian military tactics . . . More like GRU.
    This is why we are right, and they are wrong , Alex thought darkly. Anger boiled inside him.
    He moved on past Singer, around the room, noting the blood-spray patterns and the disarray caused by the search. He put his finger to his ear again. ‘Party’s over; whoever was here has long gone.’
    Bronson’s reply was immediate. ‘Pull back.’
    Alex lowered his gun. Stozer appeared beside him and made a brief cutting motion across her throat – also nothing.
    Singer was still kneeling over the kid. Perhaps he reminded him of his own son. He crossed himself and his lips moved in a silent prayer. Alex shook his head. The man definitely needed to get out of the unit; he had too much to lose.
    Stozer holstered her weapon and shrugged. Alex was about to call the team to order when he saw Singer reach down and turn the boy . . . just a fraction, perhaps just to see his face, who knows . . . but it was enough.
    Alex barely had time to yell: ‘Stop —!’
    The hook pinned into the flesh of the boy’s cheek pulled tight on its wire thread. The high-energy explosion that followed carried enough percussive power to blow out every window, half of the walls, and lift the roof right off the old house. Alex found himself in the side yard, with Stozer sprawled beside him. She spat out blood, but got up with her gun leveled. Their suits were tough enough to absorb most of the impact, but they’d be covered in bruises for weeks.
    Alex worked his jaw, feeling rather than hearing a ringing in his ears. He rushed back into the smoking ruins. Singer’s legs stuck out from under a pile of rubble, and Alex pushed aside the broken planks of wood that covered his upper body.
    ‘Ah shit.’ The body was missing its head – the only part of Singer not protected by the armored suit.
    He mouthed the words: ‘Singer down – place was fucking booby trapped.’ With his ears ringing, he wouldn’t be able to hear Bronson’s reply either, but didn’t really want to. He could guess what it would be: you took them in; it was your job to bring them all out . He should have guessed they’d set a trap for them. He knew Singer had a kid, and that gave the man a blind spot. He’d walked them right into it.
    He switched the comm. off.
    Blinding anger welled up inside him. Stozer grabbed his arm and Alex pulled it away so forcefully she took a step back. Taking a deep breath, he held up his hands to show he was okay. He looked back down at the headless body.
    ‘Singer shouldn’t have come – he fucked up and now he’s lost everything. He should have quit sooner. D’you think his kid’s going to be proud?’
    Stozer frowned. ‘Would you quit? Would it be that easy? We’re not in some sort of pay-by-the-month social club, Alex. You know that.’ She