Chapter 4

In the spirit of the Saturday afternoon cliffhangers (and I'm giving away my age), a little recap...

Carl Kolchak, veteran newspaper hack and Xander wannabe, has been kidnapped by a newly returned Mayor Wilkins and given a message for Buffy and Company. Riley Finn is called from Sunnydale to Area 51 to investigate the mysterious disappearance of a scientist involved with genetic mutation and strange deaths due to "acute anemia". The Scooby Calvary is riding the Gilesmobile (pushing the Gilesmobile?) to rescue Oz. And Riley digs into the recent past for info. So with that in mind we join our plot in progress...

Riley...

"Aaaargh!" Riley groaned and threw the folder into the growing stack of folders littering the floor. The room he sat in was one of the many on the S4 level, approximately 125 feet below ground. A small featureless room about 10'x10' with no windows, a ventilator grill, 4 fluorescent lamps, and a steel door 6 inches thick. Outside the door stood two blue berets with loaded M-16s and orders to use deadly force on anything or anyone trying to enter the room.

I have SO got to get a life. Riley mused as he leaned back in the standard grey government issue chair and put his feet up on the standard gunmetal grey desk. What the heck am I supposed to do now? I've been through 50 files so far, and I'm no closer to getting a handle on this than when Walsh woke me up this morning.

"Okay," Riley spoke aloud just to break the silence. "Let's start at the beginning. Grotanov works in the lab. Starts getting results on recombinant DNA and RNA research. Probably used the formula on himself. Something happens. He gets dead. Body disappears. And every one goes ballistic."

Staring at the mass of folders, a thought starts nibbling at the back of his brain. Fighting off a blanket of weariness, Riley tries to coax the thought to the front of his brain.

"That's it!!! The key isn't that his body disappeared, but who killed him. Why? And how did a vamp get into area 51 in the first place? Why hasn't Security asked these questions." I wonder if it's a cover-up of some type? If it is, who stands to gain?

Pacing back and forth, ideas began to come fast and furious. Okay, let's assume it's a cover-up. Why a cover-up? Cover up what? Who is it linked to. Money's not involved, so what's the thread that connects it all?

And then the proverbial light bulb lit. It's not money, it's power. That's the thread. Diving into the stack of folders, he frantically searched for the hints that had almost slid by. The purpose of the research wasn't to shapeshift, but to allow the melding of unlike substances, chemical based and mineral based alike.

"Got it!!" he crowed triumphantly. Standing, Riley began to read one of Grotanov's earliest entries, " ... the ultimate purpose of this research is the seamless hybridization of flesh and mineral. If successful, this will result in a new species of organism that fuses the hardiness of steel or titanium framework with the rapid response and analytical abilities of a human brain augmented with improved genetic enhancements that allow faster healing, and faster reflexes. I propose that the new project be called Project Adam and that the actual implementation of this plan be accomplished at Initiative headquarters in California. I also propose that Lt. General Margaret Walsh be installed as head of this research since her earliest work in recombinant DNA had direct impact upon the successful testing of my latest formula.

Furthermore, I..." What the heck? Walsh knew about this? What is Project Adam? Wait a minute! Where's that other folder? Riley dove into the pile of folders again, and after a few minutes searching, he found what he was looking for. Typical government bureaucrats. They didn't even think it was a valid objection Riley thought as he began to read from Grotanov's personal research file, " ... I have just learned that I have cancer. I have also learned that I have only a few months left before the pain halts any further research. If I am to survive, I must redouble my efforts for a breakthrough." Poor guy, Riley thought, He knew he was dying, and he knew he needed a miracle.

Skipping down several pages, Riley found the next entry, " ... I think I've found the secret. The subject's body must be cooled to a steady state of no more than 18 degrees C. Any warmer and massive degeneration of COGNITIVE functions ensues. But how to do this without subjecting the subject to immediate death. What a conundrum. Alive and yet dead. How do I get around this?"

Suddenly, the room didn't have enough air for Riley's lungs. Oh, God, please don't let him do what I think he's done. Riley prayed. Dreading what he knew he was going to find, he began paging further down. There! A single entry from two weeks ago. A transfer of experimental material from Initiative HQ Sunnydale to Grotanov. " ... received in good condition from Initiative HQ, Sunnydale, 75.8 kg of experimental tissue code named HST-16-V." What the heck is V? ... Oh, no. V as in vampire!! 75.8 kg that's 166 pounds. The crazy man had Walsh send him a Vampire!!! Where, in God's name, is it now?

Striding to the door, Riley opened it. "Guard, get me the duty Security Officer, NOW."

"Sir, it's 2 a.m. He's asleep." The guard began.

"I don't care if he's in pink footy pajamas singing the Barney song. Get him, and get him now!!!" Riley roared. The guard turned pale, and bolted for the duty desk. Amazing how much a yell can accomplish at the right time. Maybe I ought to try it on Buffy. Right, and she'd break my arm and say 'Excuse me? You were saying?'

Within a few minutes, the Security Officer entered the room in an obvious huff, determined to put this upstart in his place. "See here Finn. What's the meaning of this..."

"Shut up and sit down. I've got some questions and you've got the answers. Were you the one who ran the so-called murder investigation?" Riley growled through bloodshot eyes. I'm not taking any crap from this numbnuts.

"How dare you speak like that to me. I'm a military officer, and you're nothing but a civilian." The Major replied haughtily We'll just see how tough this guy is.

Reaching for his wallet, Riley removed his ID card and dropped it on the desk in front of the major. "Read it and weep, Major. That's your last warning. I get answers or ... I'm going to step all over your pee-pee with golf shoes." Riley said with a malevolent smile. "Flip the card over for the reason why I get to ask the questions."

The Major picked up the card and started to twitch nervously. This kid is a FULL bird colonel with authorization signed by Bush 43 himself. Clearing his throat, the Major asked, "What kind of info do you need, sir?"

Seeing that the proper pecking order had been established, Riley relaxed and said, "Where is the report and crime scene photos of Grotanov's death?"

"We were told that they weren't pertinent to the case at hand, and to drop that line of inquiry."

"So you did just that?" Riley asked serenely as a storm cloud started developing in his eyes.

"Yes, sir."

"Do the photos exist?" Riley asked as his blood pressure started climbing toward the ceiling.

"Yes, they do. I have them in my office." The Major replied with a little of his obnoxiousness returning.

Pinching the bridge of his nose to fight off a migraine sized headache, Riley said, "Let me get this straight. The information I need isn't in with all of this because 'someone' said I didn't need it, and YOU HAVE IT SITTING ON YOUR DESK WHILE YOU'RE PLAYING WORD GAMES WITH ME? I WANT THAT INFORMATION ON MY DESK IN TWO MINUTES. MOVE IT!!!"

At this point, the two guards acted like they wanted to be some where other than where they were then. Officers never yelled at each other like that. The Major came stumbling out of the office and spoke to the guards, "Johnson, come with me. Williams, stay here." And with that he strode off.

"Just what I need," the Major fumed. "Someone sticking his nose in where I don't need it. He'd better be glad I didn't take him apart."

"Begging the Major's pardon, that's not a good idea."

The Major stopped abruptly and pinned the airman with a frosty glare. "What, exactly, do YOU know, soldier?"

"Sir, Col. Finn was here before he went to where ever he is now. He was the adjutant with STAAR, and had graduated from Alien Retrieval and Containment training."

"He finished A.R.C.?"

"Yessir, and that was as a civilian. And as angry as he is now, I don't think we were guarding him from anything so much as guarding others from him. Rumor has it that in the past when he blew a fuse like he just did, he had a tendency to rip people and things apart."

"Really, Johnson, you're exaggerating now."

"Sir, one part of ARC training is to totally do away with any sense of compassion. Having to go into areas that even us Blue Berets shy away from, a conscience can get you killed. That bunch in ARC wrote the book on cold-blooded. In the past, he would've whacked us and went on about his business."

"So, why didn't he waste us, then?" the Major asked.

"Dunno sir, but something's happened since he left here. He's mellowed some. If I didn't know better, I'd say he found him a woman," Johnson replied.

I'd like to meet that woman whoever she is. Must be something else if she can tame him. Probably looks like Brunhilda the Valkyrie from a Wagner opera. The major thought.

The Major returned with the files. "As you can see, it was a fairly typical murder scene." The photos showed an office much like the one they were in. Slumped at the desk was a middle-aged man. The desk itself was a study in neatness testifying that the man was given to micro-management and was a control freak as well.

I guess he thought that about the only thing he could control was his paperwork. Poor slob, I could almost feel sorry for him if he hadn't been so stupid. Riley thought.