STRATAGEM Chapter 12

TWO WEEKS EARLIER…
Vanderberg Air Force Base

SO COLD…
Darkness ebbed, yielding to a hazy luminescence—blue, then white.
Muffled sounds: Voices.
Breathe!
Sabine gasped, drew a deep breath and wheezed. Her heart raced like a car with brakes engaged then suddenly released at max-RPM.
Trying to clear her vision, she blinked rapidly.
Lying down.
Normal orientation…gravity.
The cold surface.
Cold air blowing on her face.
She shuddered, sat up.
Other than the sheet that had just slipped off her bare shoulders, she had no clothes on. She grabbed it before it fell away, and covered herself.
Her vision cleared.
That smell…chemicals, disinfectants.
She was sitting in some kind of medical exam room.
“She’s up,” someone murmured behind her.
Every joint in Sabine’s body ached. She tried to turn around but found her neck and back too stiff.

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STRATAGEM Chapter 11

Washington Heights, New York
THE MAN WHO RESEMBLED PAIGE’S FATHER lunged at Derek and started choking him with both hands. The sudden inability to breathe caused Derek to panic. He tried prying the cold fingers off but to no avail.
The crazed man squeezed harder.
Derek flailed about, punching his assailant in the arm, shoulder, wrist…didn’t work. The guys’ arms were fully extended, putting his face out of striking distance.  He swung Derek around, slamming his back against the car’s open door frame. Tiny flecks of light danced about Derek’s eyes and the pain from his spine spread to his neck.

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STRATAGEM Chapter 10

DEAD BODIES SOMETIMES MOVE. But they don’t climb down from an exam table and stand up! Part intrigued/part terrified, Marcus pointed a penlight in Subject Two’s direction.
It didn’t move.
The subject was a male Asian—Jon Kimura. The shadows obscured his features. But it didn’t move from his place by the exam table. Did the body just happen to fall into a standing position?
Marcus heard the sound.

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STRATAGEM Chapter 9

NYPD 33rd Precinct | Washington Heights, New York

“ALL RIGHT STORM, GET YOUR ASS UP.” The uniformed officer walked into the interrogation room, working his bubblegum like a bull chewing cud. He stood about six-foot-five and probably about a hundred pounds larger than Derek, evoking a smaller version of Shaq. Best not share that analogy.
Derek stood and walked out the door with the officer—Robinson, according to his placard. “I’m supposed to get a phone call.”
“Talk to the detective.”
“I did.”
“Not my problem.” Robinson led him out past a maze of desks. Beyond the last row, Paige sat on a bench holding Hulk’s leash. A female officer sat with her but seemed preoccupied with her cell phone.

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STRATAGEM Chapter 8

AT THIS UNGODLY HOUR? Marcus Crowley grumbled at the text message calling him in for an urgent matter. He happened to be the only medical examiner in the area with sufficient clearance to even set foot in Vanderberg. But come on, at 12:48 AM? Really?
The message came from ICOMM rather than NASA. Better not be late, could very well be a matter of national security. Odd, he’d never had to perform an autopsy at a space shuttle launch facility.
Muttering each step of the way, Marcus threw some clothes on, grabbed his briefcase, keys, and phone, then left the house.
Thirty-eight minutes, three security check-points, and countless expletives later, he arrived at the medical facility. Walking alone inside a dark building in the wee hours of the night wasn’t so bad. Nor was having to spend the night with a bunch of corpses. Having to do it all unscheduled? That was the worst. Didn’t anyone honor the sanctity of the calendar anymore?
At last, he arrived, entered the exam room, and prepped himself for the autopsies. It took a bit longer than usual to get inside the hazmat suit—such a nuisance! When he finally finished he went through the safety doors and switched on the lights.

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