The zoo.
Chapter Seven
An agitated GeneralWalt Davidson tapped his fingers against his desk. Failure after failure since he’d lost his research facility in the Canadian woods—and all his test subjects. A clusterfuck that led to him being fired, although the exact words used were “relieved of duties pending an investigation,” all because some sniveling soldiers whined to the wrong people.
A good thing he had benefactors with deep pockets who’d already been preparing for this eventuality. The lab Walt relocated to hadn’t been quite ready, but in the weeks since his arrival, the work had been completed and they’d begun applying the Therianthrope Protocol to several new test subjects.
But he’d not forgotten about the ones he lost. The ones that could bring the entire project down if they opened their mouths. The ones who’d made him look a fool.
They would pay with their lives, not just because he wanted revenge for the way they’d ruined everything, but also because he couldn’t have anyone discovering what he’d been doing. Couldn’t have anyone stealing and profiting off his hard work. He’d been the one to see the potential in making regular soldiers into beasts. Who’d located the doctors and researchers withmorally gray character. The man with the balls to shoot the first subject when he refused to shift.
The success of this project relied on him, and the stakes had never been higher.
When they perfected the protocol, he’d be acclaimed for having the vision to change modern warfare. He’d be rewarded for his dedication, possibly even receive a Nobel Prize—assuming no one stole his idea.
Those on the loose had to die. Especially Lieutenant Erickson, who’d been very indiscreet. Davidson had never been more shocked than when one of his aides showed him a video of a tiger being smuggled into Malaysia. Not just any tiger, though. He could tell by the amber eyes. That combined with the origin from a Canadian port made Walt sure that Erickson had surfaced, and he knew why the lieutenant chose to smuggle himself into the Asian nation. He must have heard about the tiger legends. So had Walt, but nothing had yet panned out from it. Everything he’d discovered thus far about the Malaysian therianthropes had done nothing but cause frustration. If they existed, they hid well. None of his contacts knew of any secret villages in the jungle and had laughed, stating the stories of men who could turn into tigers were just that. Stories.
So why did he care if the lieutenant went there? Because Walt didn’t need the fucker mucking up those still digging, hence why his local contact hired someone to head over to the zoo after hours and kill the smuggled tiger.
Only the hired local failed. News reports claimed all the tigers BUT the one he’d wanted targeted had died.
Imbecile.
Walt next posted an anonymous offer, posting a picture of the lieutenant and mentioning the local tiger keeper might have a lead on his location. He’d yet to hear good news on that front. As if to pile on the bad luck, an item some of his peoplein Malaysia had been seeking was nowhere to be found. The small box had been stolen from a recently excavated ruin, along with many other tiger-shifter artifacts. While most of the filched artifacts had been recovered by a local Malaysian museum, the box, part of that collection, hadn’t been present when his team whet to retrieve it.
At least no one else would get to study the things found in the ancient temple in the jungle. Doubtful anyone would have begun to believe in the existence of tiger shifters, but best not take any chances. Knowing what he did, Walt had been more than fascinated by what he’d heard of the discovery. Figurines showing men with cat characteristics that made him wonder if an in-between shift was possible. Imagine a soldier with razor-sharp claws still capable of opening doors.
It heightened his interest in the Malaysian shifters. What he wouldn’t do to get his hands on a few to use as a point of comparison to Patient Zero. Technically, the third therianthrope he’d captured, because the first two died in the early phases of research.
A knock at his door had him barking, “Come in.”
“Evening, General.” Doctor Levy entered and wanted nothing more than to throttle the pompous jerk.
Not yet. Walt still needed him.
“What is it?”
“I’m hoping you haven’t yet managed to kill Patient Seventy-seven.” The assigned number for Lieutenant Erickson.
“Why?”
“Because I need a sample of his blood.”
“Again, why?” a brusque query.
Levy waved his hands. “Because I might have discovered the genetic marker that specifies the beast within.”
“Really?” How interesting. Walt leaned forward in his chair. “Are you sure?”
“No, hence why I need a point of comparison. The three we’ve got going through the protocol right now are showing some interesting changes in their DNA structure.”
“So why do you need Patient Seventy-seven?”
“Because, currently, the samples we’re looking at are all the same, not surprising given they’re all related.” AKA a family that included a father, his son and daughter.
“Can’t you use Patient Zero?”
“I already have, hence why I think we might be on to something. I need more points of comparison, though.”
