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A/N - Apologize for the delay. School's been kicking my ass hard.

All characters fictional. New London (No relation to actual New London, NH) and Thompson State Park are fictional.

Chapter 9 - Best Laid Schemes, Gang Aft Agley

"The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone."

Harriet Beecher Stowe

I-93N

Massachusetts-New Hampshire Border

October 21, 2011

My truck was pushing 85 by the time I hit the New Hampshire line, the stark blue light of my beacon illuminating the road ahead of me almost as much as my headlights. Stark's phone had gone straight to voicemail, strange for him, but we left a message advising him of what had happened. That explained why Dalis had gotten hold of me, I thought. I was probably the next one down the command chain for this case. Hopefully Stark would check those messages soon, and start trying to get everything mobilized. With the bombing, these killers would have the full force of the FBI coming down on them.

'A 'full force' that will pale in comparison to the anger filling this car now,' I thought grimly.

My mind was thinking of nothing other than destroying those who had perpetrated this deed. Throughout my mind, the desire to eradicate these monsters from the face of the planet was growing, a feeling that I could not remember ever feeling before. Sneaking a glance to my right, I saw another pair of steely eyes, almost glinting amber in the dim light, looking ready to draw blood as David checked his sidearm. He had not been able to reach his wife, and with the news of Sarah's potential kidnapping, we were both afraid that she was among those feared dead.

Please, God, let us be wrong...Give us strength to be the defenders of those on this plane...And forgive us for what we must do in that defense.

My mental prayers were interrupted by my ringing phone. Grabbing it from the cupholder, I saw Stark's number on the screen.

"Hart," I answered. "You got my message? I'm 30 out, just passing the line."

"Mike, we've got a problem."

'Oh, Crap,' I thought. 'He sounds pissed.'

"What's wrong? Didn't you get my message?"

"I got the message, but I assume you don't have the news on. All of New England's gone nuts."

"Hold on, what?" I asked as I fiddled with the radio, hoping to pick up a local channel, finally finding one. The agitated voice of the announcer startling me.

"...Again, police are advising everyone to remain in their homes. The cause of these shootings is not known at this time. Also, we are receiving reports of an explosion in New Hampshire. Further information when we hear it..."

"Mike. Mike, you still there?" Stark's voice pulled me out of the radio, back to reality. Apparently I had completely zoned out to the announcer.

"Yeah, I'm still here. What the hell is going on? It sounds like the world's blowing up on the radio?"

A quick sigh answered my question. "That's just it. It pretty much is. There's been a series of active shooters around the state and half a dozen bomb threats just in Mass alone. All three of our tactical teams are currently out on callups around, and all of the major departments are stretched thin as well. There have been shooters in over a dozen of the malls around here. There's almost no one to back you up."

"Shit, what about our friends from last week?"

"They can't be there for about six hours."

"Fuck. I really need some help. Any idea about what's up North? How about State Police?"

"Mike, they're even worse than we are...although they've been getting some civilian help. These attacks, I don't think they are the primary targets. Every one of these calls has been single shooter. We're trying to pull back and get our teams some time. Also, none of these bomb threats have been real. From your call, I think New London may be the primary target...and I think you know why."

"Yeah, I think I do...Did Dalis give you any more information?"

"No, he just said that there was an explosion. Your call was the first report of the kidnapping. I haven't been able to reach him since the first call, though...Hell, something's definitely wrong." Through the phone I could hear a door slam and garbled voices.

"You don't say," I snarled into the phone, immediately realizing that this was my boss I was snarling at. "Err, sorry, sir."

"What," came the reply, "Sorry, I wasn't listening. Things are a little hectic around here. From what I'm hearing, the calls down here are staying steady, but there's nothing I will be able to do. Locals are starting to take charge a little more, so we're getting a bit of a breather, though. I'm trying to see who's still available. New London's the center of this problem, and I need to be there. I'll be there in an hour."

"Good. Any bodies you can bring would really help. My guess is that these guys have to be based nearby. They aren't new from the sounds of it, but they just got a hell of a lot more aggressive. Something spooked them...or something's really changed. Also, just a heads up. I have a US Marshal, David Anderson, with me. He lives in town and his daughter is thought to be kidnapped. He will be helping." I made sure my emphasis was heard and understood. First, I knew he could be a good asset, between his senses and his knowledge of the town, but to be honest, I wanted him watched. The last time his daughter had been kidnapped, he had nearly killed me.

"You're in charge until I get there. If you feel he's stable, use him. If he's not, take whatever measures are needed. That town's not known for calm tempers, if you understand me."

"Perfectly. Now get up here. We need to stop this, and I think this all ties back to New London." With that, the phone went silent as Stark ended the call. My mind was in overdrive as I tried to figure out what was going on. This all sounded like one of my nightmare scenarios. A well planned series of spree shooters could easily be more dangerous than any terrorist bomb. Hell, I had been pushing this very scenario to all of the departments whom I trained. Hopefully my training had caught.

Glancing to my right, I saw David looking out the window. A quick glance caught his eye and he turned his head to face me. The look on my face apparently did nothing to appease the worry that was written across his face, nor the anger, bordering on bloodlust, as burning eyes reflected the dark thoughts behind those darkened eyes.

"Sounds like they are not gonna be much help. What now?"

"First, Stark's on his way. What he'll bring with him, I have no clue. They've been getting slammed today, and I think it's all to provide cover for whatever is going on in New London. Amy told me about the night my parents were killed, and that sounds almost exactly like what happened to Sarah last week. The bombings and robberies just make no sense. There is no history of them before, and they all seem to center around New London. Something's up, and I intend to find out what. For that I need your help." I stared him directly in the eyes.

"What?" was his stunned response as he looked away, subconsciously backing down just a hair.

"You are going to be helping me find these bastards, but you need to keep all of yourself in check. Last week you were ready to kill me because you thought I had hurt Sarah. Now she's in danger again, but I need every body I can get. I suspect your race is part of the cause of this whole episode. We can't give any more reason for them to keep attacking. We don't want a martyr. "

"Mike, if they've hurt..."

"You will be professional," I cut him off. "If you are not, I have been ordered to take whatever measures are necessary to keep order. I need your help, and I'm not going to lock you away just to prevent you from doing something stupid. I need you to prevent yourself from being stupid."

"Mike, I know, but... these bastards have my daughter. I can't just let them go. They deserve punishment"

"Punishment that you cannot mete out by yourself. You better know how to compartmentalize... Hell, I know that you have to with your split personalities. You all damn well fooled me all those years ago. If you go rogue, now I have to deal with a vigilante at the same time I'm trying to find those monsters. If I have to take my eyes off the ball to deal with you...first, you'll likely kill Sarah and Amy, and second, you will give these bastards a martyr. Even if the worst happens, you don't want them to have someone to rally around. They will get what is coming to them, I promise."

"Okay. I will keep it in check. If I feel I cannot, I will step back. You have my word."

"Good. Now, how could these guys be controlling their captives? You had no issues getting out of my cuffs last week, why can't Sarah, or particularly Amy so the same?"

"Thin wire and Martinsol. The thin wire would prohibit the human to Lycan transformation while the Martinsol would bind one of us in Lycan form for twenty-four hours."

"Why? Couldn't you just break the wires?"

"The body reacts to confinement by ceasing the shift if it will be harmed. If you wrap the wrists and ankles tightly with strong piano wire or the like, the Lycan will be bound to human form as any attempt to shift will amputate the limb. It can be overcome, but there are few who master it, none within New London that I know of. Martinsol is a drug developed years ago to hold a Lycan in their wolven form. We use it mostly for medical use, but there are a couple of instances where it is used for restraint. If you had used that on me at the cabin, I would have needed to break free, as opposed to simply shifting out of the restraints."

"Okay. That works. Any mental effects? Confusion, lethargy, bloodlust or anything like that?"

"No, it's simply something to lock forms."

I nodded, continuing north, steering around the idiots who still couldn't figure out that a blue light attached to a three ton SUV meant that they should be moving. We were getting damn close to the town, the roads getting less and less filled with cars. As I pulled onto the main thoroughfare near the shopping center, bypassing the officer directing traffic with a wave of a badge, I saw what had happened.

The area was lit by the strobing lights of dozens of emergency apparatus and volunteer vehicles. The charred remains of a dozen or so cars were visible, centering on a one of the handicapped spots near the entrance. Yellow tarps littered the ground, denoting bodies that would need to be collected and buried later. The windows of the market that the truck had been parked in front of were simply gone, shattered by the force of the blast. I couldn't help but be drawn back to that scene in the middle of Boston, surrounded by the bodies of those I couldn't save and who should have played no part in this slaughter. Pulling up to the blockade at the entrance of the shopping plaza, I flagged the hapless officer standing guard. As he approached, I noted that he was from a town almost ten miles distant, so apparently they called in whatever help they could get.

"Special Agent Hart, FBI," I said, displaying my credentials. "Is Agent Dalis in here?"

"No, sir. He's at the sheriff's department near the town hall. Most of our officers and the entirety of the sheriff's department are there, too."

I motioned the officer to the driver's side window, hushing my tones to attempt to hide my questions from David.

"Officer, do we have a list of the victims?"

"I don't. They have it down at the station...Chief just brought it over, actually. We have the triage info here, but they won't release that, except to family members."

"Okay."

The drive to the station was uneventful. The sullen mood that permeated the car was as dark as the night looking over us, with the waning moon and the smoke obscuring the sky. Neither David, nor myself spoke, overtaken by events and worried about what had happened. As I pulled into the sheriff's department building, I noticed the half dozen cruisers and bureau suburban parked out front. 'Well,' I thought, 'At least we have some help."

As I walked in the door, I was immediately flagged down by Dalis. Following him into a small conference room, David and I were both hoping that he had any idea what was going on.

"Dalis, what happened and what's going on?" The first words out of my mouth came quickly as soon as the door behind us closed, not even bothering with any pleasantries.

"First, who's this with you? Second, all hell broke loose."

"David Anderson, US Marshals." Dalis took the offered hand, wincing at the grip when they shook. "I was on my way here with Agent Hart when he got your phone call...I am also Sarah's father and a close friend of Amy. I will be helping in the search." From his tone of voice, and the look on Dalis' face, I knew he may have just overstepped a bound and jumped in to try and salvage the situation.

"Let's see what we need first. Dalis, what do we have? What happened and what do we know? Stark's probably less than an hour behind me, and we need a plan for when we hit the ground."

"There was an explosion at about 1845 this evening. There are twelve confirmed fatalities, and about twice that in local hospitals. Here's the list" he started, handing me a clipboard with a pair of columns of writing on it.

Skimming the list, I saw names that I hadn't thought of in decades, old teachers, family friends and shopkeepers from town. Small towns suck like that. Continuing to skim the list, my eyes were drawn to the name Michelle Anderson. Glancing at the header, I noted thankfully that she was at one of the local hospitals, the word yellow penciled next to her. 'Good, that will help rein David in,' I thought, passing him the list. The sigh of relief when he saw that name was audible to anyone in that room before he handed the list back to Dalis.

"Witnesses reported a child being forcibly taken using at least three men and a large, unmarked, dark colored van," Dalis continued. "We are not as certain about Sheriff Sullivan. She was responding to the bombing when she apparently struck a white pickup that pulled in front of her. Her dashcam shows two males in camouflage, vests and ski masks removing her bodily from the vehicle. A deputy responding to the bombing arrived on scene just two minutes later, but reported no one on scene."

"Do you have any idea where they are?"

"We have two locations." He handed me a pair of folders, still warm from the Xerox. Opening them, I found some simple records and a set of resized blueprints for a farmhouse. "I was in town following up on some of the component purchases from the bomb at the bank, and found a trail leading to a farm about three miles out of town to the east. It's been uninhabited for almost three decades, but still seems to be in decent shape. There's a small business group that owns it on paper, but the group is just that, paper. I just got a call from an off duty deputy we sent by that there are new tire tracks leading off the road toward the farmhouse. These idiots also forgot to turn off Sheriff Sullivan's cell. We pinged her to a small research lab south of town. Last reports had it as owned by a company making pharmaceuticals, but the trail just leads to more paper corporations. Something is a little fishy. Apparently the local judge agreed. The warrants just arrived a few minutes ago."

At this, the door opened and Stark strode in. Turning to David, he quickly sized the marshal up and, seemingly satisfied, turned back to Dalis and me.

"What's the plan?"

"Sir," I started, "It looks like there are two separate locations of interest at this time. One south of town, the other east. How many men did you bring?"

"I only have one. We're still getting jerked around with active shooters and bomb threats. I started with an additional four agents but they were diverted to Nashua. Apparently, some idiots tried shooting up the mall. Their police units were already scrambling and our guys were the closest units. Apparently some civilians fought back and stopped a lot of the carnage, but they are still going through the building. If all goes well, they should be here in two hours or so."

"Nuts. We're going to have to split what we've got. We don't have enough time to try to wait for either our mysterious friends or the team in Nashua. We'll have to take a couple of the deputies with us. The farmhouse will be our primary target. Looking at the prints, it's pretty open, so we'll need some decent high ground coverage. This research lab, though looks like a small team could do well, maybe three inside and three outside. Stark, you mind leading the farmhouse? I have a little unfinished business at that lab."

"You know, just for that quip, I should say no, but I have to trust you. You have no idea how many times your name has come up today from the locals. That active shooter training was a godsend. Dalis, I'm going to send you and Agent Mitchell with him. We can get a couple deputies to secure the perimeter. Marshal Anderson and I will take the farmhouse."

"That's your other man, sir? John? Has he even had any real field time?"

"He's all we have. As I told you, we got hammered earlier and can't spare anyone else. Hell, I'm not even supposed to be here...but it's too much paperwork when an agent goes off half-cocked." His knowing grin sat plastered across his face, mocking me for assuming that my personal reasons for racing up here...for wanting this assignment...were unknown to him.

"Yes, sir." I knew enough not to argue.

That meeting ended relatively unassumingly, with basic plans hashed out in but a few minutes. Hell, the extent of the plans was that we would enter through a rear alley and see what was inside...Stark's team was pretty much a treacherous entrance through the thick woods behind the farmhouse, the only available approach path that wouldn't telegraph our moves half a mile away. Everything else would be hashed out enroute and on scene.

Grabbing a vest and raid jacket from Stark's suburban, I mentally lamented that we only had Dalis' rifle. John and I had just our sidearms for this. The deputies had their own longarms, but the spares were under lock and key right now...keys that apparently were on Amy's keychain.

Damn...Amy.

I prayed that we were neither too late nor too underarmed...I honestly had no real clue what we were walking into and it scared the shit out of me. A trio of deputies volunteered to surreptitiously secure the perimeter of the abandoned block where this lab was housed and Loki got led back into one of the vacant cells and left with some food until I got back, and we were off.

The drive to that relatively unpopulated area of town was uneventful, even as I quickly outlined the poor excuse of a plan that we could utilize. Time was heavily against us...I guessed that at least Amy, and possibly both Amy and Sarah were live. There was no reason I could see to kidnap both of them, only to immediately kill them. From Sarah's description of her previous captivity, the team had waited for some kind of signal...then it took a day...I had to hope against hope that this signal would be similarly timed, but I just could not be certain...and I had two lives riding on this. Damn, what a time for doubt.

The plan was that we would enter the building silently and try to reach an exam room that was noted on the outdated blueprints we had. The blueprints showed only a single path from the alley where we would be entering to this room, and this room was the only one that looked secure enough to hold captive. All of the other rooms were along the building perimeter and had man-sized windows that one could theoretically escape through.

In a little dark recess of my mind, another thought kept nagging at me...It's an exam room in a laboratory. It'll probably be designed for easy rinsing...for easy cleanup of the blood after these bastards murder their captives.

A dark gloom greeted us on our arrival to the complex. The sky was almost stagnant, the smell of the burning rubber and hydrocarbons still slowly drifting from the west. That single seed of dread reared up, threatening to fill me, unless I stepped up and did what needed to be done. Forcing my mind from the thoughts of what could be, I started to push myself back into the detached state that I knew I needed for any type of operation. After a quick equipment check and acknowledgement from the local deputies keeping watch on the building from maybe a hundred yards distant, we made for the building in the darkened cover of the alley.

We approached the building, Dalis at the lead, Mitchell, slightly trembling following a few feet behind him, and myself at the rear. I'd tried to give him a crash course in field work on the drive over, but there's never any comparison to the first time you need to go and do the job for real. Stacking up against the dark, concrete wall of the building, Dalis popped the door with a lock gun and in we went. The brilliance of Dalis' forend light lit the hallways brilliantly while Mitchell and I both used handheld flashlights to illuminate the spots still bathed in darkness.

Thankfully there were no visible cameras. The walls of the building were a uniform, dingy grey. It honestly looked as if this building had been used for some type of horror movie years before and just left to rot. The dark shadows clustered behind us Surprisingly the doors were rather well maintained and actually didn't make too much noise as we advanced forward, passing large rooms full of gleaming cages, some the size you'd buy for a pet hamster, some larger, likely for rabbits and various monkeys, and some that looked like they were built for big cats.

The size of those cages caused part of my mind to start. I realized they weren't there to hold some kind of large cat, but to hold Lycans. Someone must have used these labs for some kind of study using them, and these terrorists...there's no other word that could describe my thoughts, at least in mixed company...must have taken it over as a storage facility or safe house of sorts.

It was very odd, though. We hadn't seen any signs of habitation for the entire time we had been inside. The empty, soft slaps of our boots against the tarnished linoleum were the only sounds that we could hear and all of the rooms we had passed had been entirely devoid of habitation in any form. We had caught Amy's cell signal from here, though so there must be some connection... some slim thread between these kidnappers and this location.

Our small train approached a fork in the path ahead. Crap. Sometime after the blueprints had been drawn, someone apparently closed off the direct entrance into the lab. The quick glances at the blueprints had shown that there were two other entrances to the lab we were endeavoring to access, one to our left and one to the right. I told Dalis to head to the left and grabbed Mitchell, having him follow behind me as I moved toward the right.

The darkened path was illuminated by my handheld light as I walked down the small, congested hallway, flanked on both sides by rows of tool cabinets. Looking ahead, I saw a pool of light, a sight that I hadn't seen before in this building. Something's definitely off there. Reaching the end of the hallway, I found a heavy set of double doors that, from their position and orientation, appeared to open into the lab. There was no window I could see, although the light was seeping under the door. Pressing an ear to the door, I listened for any noise inside, but heard nothing.

"At the door," came Dalis' voice through my earpiece. "It's open."

Testing the lock on my end revealed the same condition on these doors, and I motioned quietly to Mitchell to move to the other side and prepare to enter.

"Be careful. Dalis' right across from us. Check your targets and don't shoot unless you have to." The look on Mitchell's face was one I had seen dozens of times before. The look where you could see that part of him was scared shitless, but most of him was working like the machine it should be working as. 'A little training and I might make an agent out of him yet,' I thought.

Keying my mike, I got myself ready for what would be on the other side. Part of me wished I had my tools to see what was on the other side of the door, but right now, there was no real good options. Time was short, the northeast had gone to hell and here I was, breaking so many of the rules I had taught others for so long. Well, rules are made to be broken, I thought. "Enter on three," I whispered, just loud enough that Mitchell and my mike could pick it up.

"One..." My hand tightened on the knob, slowly twisting it, attempting to feel for any resistance.

"...Two..." I felt the latch slip, freeing the door into my control as I shifted my weight and prepared to enter the room, sidearm ready.

"...and Three." With a heave, I forced the door open. "Federal Agents. Search Warrant," the words were coming automatically from my lips as I tracked across the opposite corner of the room, with Dalis mirroring me from the opposite side and Agent Mitchell doing the same across the corner to my right. As I tracked across, I saw nothing, no shooters, no bodies, nothing. The single, bare bulb alight in this room was swinging above our heads. The room was completely empty.

To my left was an old section of lab benches, likely the cause of the blockade we had circumvented. The walls of the room were the same dingy white as the rest of the building, with stainless shelving running the perimeter of the room. To my right, across the rather expansive room was a small door, a storeroom I assumed. Motioning for Dalis to watch the entrances, Mitchell and I approached the door.

Standing at the entrance we could her a very quiet rustling inside. Quickly stacking up beside the doors, I counted to three with a hand and opened the door.

Crack. A single shot rang out

The sound of the gunshot echoed through the empty room, and I quickly tracked across the parts of the storeroom I could see, my mind racing, figuring that the only place that shot could have come from was this room. I saw a limp, bound figure in the very center of the storeroom, still squirming, trying to escape its bonds and started across the threshold of the door to clear the remainder of the small room when a cry stopped me in my tracks.

"Fuck, Mike." That gasping voice came from beside me. Looking to my right, I saw Agent Mitchell gasping and holding a hand against his Kevlar as he backed away from the door, getting himself out of a potential line of fire from the storeroom. Thinking the vest had stopped the round and beaten him to hell, a small price to pay for not getting killed, I quickly stepped through the door to make sure the cretin that had made the shot didn't get a second chance. I was dumbfounded by what I saw.

Nothing. There was no one in here.

Crack.

I heard the second gunshot clearly and spun around to one of the most chilling sights I could ever expect to see.

Agent Mitchell lay sprawled across the ground, bright crimson blood spreading from his chest, as Dalis stood with one foot atop the bleeding corpse, M4 still smoking slightly, and aimed squarely at my head. My sidearm was already coming to bear on his chest when he spoke.

"Drop it or die with the bitch," he snarled. The eyes staring down the sights of that rifle told me that he wasn't bluffing. My hands started following the active commands from my brain to lower the pistol.

"On the ground and slide it to me."

Squatting down so I could still watch Dalis' movements and mannerisms, I placed my sidearm on the floor and slid it across the cool linoleum.

"Backups, too." My knifes both quickly followed the pistol across that dingy floor.

"On your stomach." I followed his orders, assuming the deputies would be arriving in short order after hearing two gunshots. He quickly slung the rifle and I felt the knee in my back as he cuffed me and subsequently pulled me to my knees like a wayward prisoner.

Striding into the storeroom he pulled the bound prisoner to their knees. It was Amy, hands tightly bound and handcuffed with a makeshift gag in her mouth. He pulled the gag out and she spat, trying to remove the taste of that, undoubtedly old and rancid dishrag.

I caught her eyes and was about to talk when Dalis interrupted the silence.

"Great, you both walked right into the plan. Now," he snarled as he faced Amy, "To kill this hypocritical, traitorous bitch..." His eyes returned to me, all humanity lost, "And then, finally, the bastard who caused all of this."

'What me?' The thoughts flew through my head as Dalis' treatise concluded.

Dalis' cold eyes bored into me, almost drawing the heat from my body from the stare. "Revenge is sweeter than any blood."

My blood froze.

To be continued...

A/N - Please read and review.

Hopefully I can get into a more structured writing regimen but no guarantees. I do promise the story will not be forgotten or dropped.