Page 67 of Lethal Weakness

I am ready to get off this op.

For the first time in my life, I’m ready to be out of the fight.

* * *

“Go for Eagle-One.” My handler’s voice sounds in my left ear, and I respond immediately.

“Eagle-One, clear.” It’s been a few days since they cracked the French translation, and now I’m making my first descent into the underground levels of the mansion.

“Hard drive confirms five sales being orchestrated for next week. Look for medical-grade storage, or a location where these transactions take place.”

“Copy.” I move down the stone-walled corridor. It’s not uncommon for historic homes to be built on stone foundations, and for root cellars to be converted to something else. But this area of the mansion remains nearly pre-industrial.

Other than the electrical lines along the ceiling that wire the lone incandescent bulbs hanging above my head every few feet, I feel like I’m in a cave.

The walls are slick and cool to the touch, and there is a rhythmic dripping coming from somewhere. Other than that, it’s completely silent.

I clear the corner, delving deeper into the underground system, and stop short at two doors.

I clear the first one easily, covering myself in cobwebs as I check rows of mason jars and old furniture. It’s an old storage area, and nothing indicates that this area sees regular activity, but I need to be thorough.

Before I leave the room, I sweep it with my flashlight, pausing as my light bounces off the glass jars.

These aren’t vegetables.

Organs are suspended in these jars by some preserving liquid. The size indicates they’re possibly human.

I examine each dust-covered jar closely, noting as much as I can about the contents.

Hearts. Livers. Kidneys. Even a brain stem.

All could be acquired legally by medical professionals, but I’m sure that isn’t likely here.

The last row appears to have more of the same until I get to the end.

Five jars containing different stages of fetuses. From the size of a strawberry to the size of a… baby. The last one looks old enough to survive outside the womb.

Little eyes, a nose. You can still see the peach fuzz on its skin.

From what I’ve learned about the Scotts, the possession of a fetus in this state makes me sick to my stomach.

What did they do to get it? And, to whom?

I relay my findings over my com to my handler and re-enter the cave-like hallway.

“The other door is locked.”

“Can you slip a camera under the seam?”

“Negative. The door is sealed against the stone and armed with a mechanical lock. The dial will need to be cracked manually. Drilling into the stone will be too loud and take too long. There’s probably another entrance from inside the house.”

I got lucky getting in through the outdoor cellar doors without being detected. I won’t have the same luck inside the house. There are too many people on the main floor at any given point to search for a cellar door without being walked up on.

“Copy. You can’t make your presence known until we know you’re on the right trail. Take photos, and fall back. We’ll need a new plan of engagement.”

“Copy.” Fuck. Of course, this couldn’t be the resolution. A safe door built into the stone foundation of the house. No fucking shot this op is going to wrap up quickly.

Linden might not ever know what I’ve been doing behind her back, but I long for the day that I can look her in the face without lying.