Justice Comes Due (Birth Of Heavy Metal Book 7) Page 2

  “Regarding the case of Lieutenant Gregor Popov,” the judge said as he leafed through the case file like he already knew what he would find in there. “Taking on a mission from the FSB and including a foreign entity, thus risking our national security.”

  It wasn’t like he’d really had a choice in taking on the mission. Besides, the operation as a whole had been a success. All they were really looking for was someone to throw under the bus over the death of their pet project since apparently, no one wanted to touch Jacobs, Kennedy, and Monroe. Then again, he didn’t really want them to get into trouble because they had helped him, which was why he had left individual names out of his report. It was a professional courtesy that had not been extended by the scientists the Heavy Metal team had put their lives on the line to rescue.

  Some thanks were in order, he supposed. He hadn’t been given access to the specialists’ reports, but perhaps him saving their lives had been enough to keep him away from a firing squad.

  The witnesses came forward. They’d neglected to call any of the members of the team he had assembled and only brought in a handful of the scientists. Of those who were present, he recognized one of them as the man who had been the most incensed when their test subject was killed by Sal, and he was the only one whose statement actually felt sincere. The others looked like they had been ordered to deliver their statements or face a similar fate as Gregor did. He didn’t blame them. They had careers ahead of them that would be brought to a standstill if they were put in one of the military prisons.

  The judge looked up from his desk, which had concealed what looked like a phone as the last witness finished her statement. The man looked rather bored but that only confirmed his suspicion that his fate was already decided.

  “Does the defendant wish to plead guilty to the charges?” the judge asked and leaned forward as he waited for Gregor to answer.

  Wait, plead guilty? That came now, after all the evidence against him was already presented? Maybe this was how military judgments were supposed to be delivered, but he hadn’t even been provided with legal counsel. It was like they had gone out of their way to make sure he knew there was no way out of this.

  “I…plead guilty?” Gregor queried and glanced at the group of high-ranking officers, which he guessed included many people who wanted this to go in a very particular way.

  “If you were to deny yourself the right to appeal this hearing, this court would be willing to offer you five years of detainment in a minimum-security facility in Volgograd,” the judge continued and made no effort to look up from the files—or phone—on his desk, Gregor couldn’t be sure which. He startled when one of the bailiffs placed a paper in front of him and shoved a felt-tipped pen into his hand. Inanely, he wondered if that was because most other pens could be used as weapons by the more violent prisoners.

  The paperwork that had been put in front of him was a declaration to confirm that he would not be prosecuted further and that the matter would be considered resolved provided that he made no appeals to the verdict handed down by the judge in his hearing. His sentence would constitute a five-year detainment period in the minimum-security prison in Volgograd, where most of the lesser offenders of military backgrounds were sent. He was even presented with the option of being released on parole after two years had been served.

  It was a generous offer and a very clear sign that some people very high up on the food chain wanted this matter resolved with all the loose ends tied and no possibility of the press—national or international—catching a whiff of it. He wondered if it had anything to do with the elections that were coming up.

  Gregor sighed, knowing full well that this would be the best offer he would ever get. Honestly, if he tried to fight it, he would probably end up in one of those pre-trial facilities that were known for inmates spontaneously committing suicide.

  He signed his name hastily at the bottom of the sheet, which was collected and passed to the judge.

  This way, he could possibly get out on parole in the allotted two years due to the prisons being a little overcrowded. His family would be able to visit in the meantime, and maybe once he was out, he could ask Sal, Courtney, and Madigan for a job, since his time with the military was indisputably at an end.

  The judge looked at the paper that had been signed, added his own scrawl quickly at the bottom, and pounded his gavel briskly.

  “Lieutenant Gregor Popov, I hereby dishonorably discharge you from your position as lieutenant and remand you to the custody of the Ministry of Internal Affairs to serve out your sentence, which shall begin once you are delivered to the Volgograd Minimum Security Detainment Facility,” the judge said in a quick and practiced speech. He motioned for the bailiffs to take him away. “This court is adjourned.”

  The other high-ranked military officials in attendance stood and had already begun to march toward the exit when an aide stepped into the room. He rushed over to where the judge was currently in the process of leaving the room for a lunch break. The official paused as the younger man whispered something in his ear and gave him a file and a phone. The judge narrowed his eyes and raised his hand to stop the bailiffs from escorting Gregor away. The former lieutenant narrowed his eyes and wondered what the delay could possibly be.

  At the judge’s instruction, he was brought back to his seat while the gathered officials whispered amongst themselves.

  “Lieutenant Gregor Popov, due to extreme circumstances that require your expertise, the Ministry of Defense has determined that you will not be remanded into the custody of the Ministry of Internal Affairs and that you be reinstated to your original rank,” the judge said quickly but looked annoyed at this highly irregular turn of events. “As such, you will be returned to your post in the Sahara Desert. Your new orders will be provided to you en route. Do you have any comments that you would like to add to the record?”

  They were returning him to the Zoo. Fuck. “Honestly, I would prefer to carry my sentence out here, if it’s all the same to you.”

  “Your comments have been noted,” the man stated. “Dismissed.”

  They began to move away again and the judge ordered the bailiffs to uncuff him as a couple of uniformed members of the military police arrived to take custody of him.

  “Lieutenant,” one of the men said, waiting until the other officers had left the room. “We are here to escort you to the Kubinka Airbase where you will receive your new orders and ship out tomorrow at first light. If you will come with us?”

  Gregor shrugged. It wasn’t like he had any choice in the matter, right? “Can you tell me why my circumstances have been changed so drastically?”

  As he predicted, though, neither man answered him and instead, made their way smoothly to the door, expecting him to follow. It was for the best anyway, he supposed. Neither of these men was likely to have been read in on the topic, and if they had, they probably weren’t in any place to discuss it with him lest they end up in a very similar trial as the one he had just experienced. Although, he thought with sardonic amusement, it would probably have a very different outcome.

  Some people would consider themselves lucky that they had avoided prison. For himself, though, he couldn’t help a sinking feeling that told him he was exchanging a comparatively short punishment for a death sentence. ‘Death by Zoo’ was what some of his comrades had called it back in the day—back when they still had veterans running the place.

  He was escorted outside where two vehicles with black military plates waited for them. Once they climbed aboard, both of the armored light utility vehicles eased away from the sidewalk where they’d been parked and set off to the airbase where he had landed about a week before.

  Chapter Two

  Sal had to admit this place was damn spectacular. There were people who said money couldn’t buy happiness, and while he would have agreed with them once upon a time, these days, he was more of the opinion that they simply didn’t try hard enough. That was a little materialistic of him, of course, but
the fact that he soaked in a warmed jacuzzi the hotel-slash-casino had somehow fit into their penthouse suite made it difficult to care.

  Well, more like out on the terrace, which gave them a sweeping view of the city below and the ocean beyond—or, to be accurate, the Mediterranean Sea.

  As things stood, this vacation seriously kicked the ass of every other vacation he’d ever taken. The bar was set low, admittedly—he really hadn’t lived the high life before—but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy their time there. They were away from the Zoo and had left Davis to take care of the compound. Anderson handled the business end of Pegasus while Savage and Terry shuffled papers and did what admin tasks they could while they recovered. Things were a little hectic with the shares on the market but not the kind of hectic that had them shooting and being shot at, which allowed them a little downtime too. Everything else was essentially running on autopilot, and there weren’t any issues that needed any of the trio to handle them personally. While Anja finished her vacation and headed back to the compound before the Russians tried to take a crack at her again, they would have some them time.

  Madigan was with him in the jacuzzi and wore her sunglasses in the way he had come to recognize as her taking a nap. He had never seen her this relaxed before. It was actually a little scary. What if she didn’t want to go back to being the hard-ass who kept them all in line for their own safety?

  Like she could read his thoughts, she tilted her sunglasses up and met his stare with a raised eyebrow.

  “Are you enjoying the view?” she asked.

  “No,” Sal replied quickly. “I mean, yes, of course. Always. But that wasn’t what I was thinking about.”

  “Pray tell, what were you thinking about, Dr. Jacobs?” she asked as she let her sunglasses drop into place and leaned back against her cushioned seat.

  He knew it shouldn’t, but he felt a thrill run down his spine every time someone called him doctor. Not necessarily the same chill that came when Madigan said it since that was basically reserved for her and Courtney, but it was nice to know that all his work had some tangible results.

  “I was simply thinking that I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this relaxed before.” Sal chuckled and stretched to give her shoulder a squeeze. “It’s a good look on you. I’d recommend you take it on more often.”

  “I won’t lie, I’ve needed some time away from the Zoo—and the compound,” Madigan said. She smiled and lowered her head to place a kiss on the back of his hand. “That said, I joined your little Heavy Metal venture for the work and not the perks. About three more days of this relaxing and hanging around in the room, fucking and ordering room service, and I’ll be itching for real action. A few more days of that, and I’ll get into drunken bar fights down there in the casino. Somehow, I don’t think the Monaco authorities really appreciate visitors throwing punches at the millionaires who came here to gamble all their hard-earned money away.”

  “That’s a good point,” Sal admitted and leaned back as well. He sighed contentedly when the jets activated to massage his back in slow, circular motions and decided he was reasonably sure he could get used to this kind of lifestyle. Although he probably still needed to work, even with the ten million that Molina had paid them for their trip into the Chernobyl lab burning a hole in his pocket. But he was lazy at heart, and while there was nothing quite like the rush he felt when he pushed his body to its limits in the Zoo, he was well aware of the cost of that now, and maybe it was time to start scaling back.

  No, it felt ridiculous to even think about it. Eventually, he would get antsy for those combat-produced endorphins and he would charge in there with Madigan and Courtney. He merely wondered what his life could be like if he went back to being only a researcher, working in a lab and getting his data. While he would probably be called in to work a few late shifts, he would spend most nights at home, wherever that was.

  He was well aware that he wouldn’t think like this if it hadn’t been for what they’d run into in Chernobyl, though. There was the possibility that he might be facing some post-traumatic stress, and maybe what he needed to do was talk to a professional about it. He probably would, eventually, but he needed to come to terms with what happened in there first and he doubted that he would manage that by talking about it to Courtney and Madigan. One would tell him to suck it up, probably, and the other would be overly concerned for his well-being and tell him to give up going into the Zoo or getting into combat situations entirely until he felt better. Oddly enough, he still wasn’t sure which woman would take which approach.

  “So, what do you think we’ll do next, Sal?” Madigan asked and surprised him because he’d assumed she’d returned to napping. She placed her hand over his, which lingered on her shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. “After our vacation time is done and we have the need to acquire more cash to stuff our coffers with?”

  Sal shrugged. “I’m not sure. We could always keep going back into the Zoo, taking samples, selling whitepapers, and collecting pita flowers and the like, but I can’t help but feel that we’re simply reacting to everything the place has to throw at us. We know those tentacle monsters have been in the Zoo for a while but we didn’t realize the implications at the time, meaning that there’s still too much that we don’t know about the place.”

  “Wait, we’ve known about those ugly bastards?” Madigan asked, suddenly a little tenser.

  “Yeah, remember the tentacles that came down from the trees when we were dealing with Andressa Covington?” he reminded her. “I think it’s rather safe to say that the creatures are one and the same, although we are waiting for second opinions to come in. Honestly, many of the experts have simply dismissed our findings in Chernobyl as crazy since there is no official record of any of the goop being used outside of the Sahara, so we’re a little stuck there.”

  “Eh, I’ll take your word for it over theirs any day of the week,” she asserted. “That said, I don’t think only having me believe you will be enough for you, so how do you think we can go about proving the doubters wrong?”

  “First of all, you and Courtney believing and trusting in me are all the belief and trust I need,” Sal said in an attempt at flattery. He was fairly sure it worked but restrained himself from a smirk. “Secondly…yeah, proving that we actually found Zoo-like shit in Chernobyl with the Russian and Ukrainian government swearing up and down that there was no secret lab there will be difficult. We’ll need to find a way to prove our hypothesis another way. Maybe we could try to find one of the monsters in the Zoo and take some samples and get some video. People already know that something alive and with tentacles is in there. We merely need to prove what it is.”

  “Not to be a wet blanket or anything, but I’d put a lot of money on those creatures being guarded by the biggest and the baddest the Zoo has to offer.” Madigan grunted and looked like she really did want to get some sleep in this time. “If we intend to do something like that, we need to pull it off with serious planning and prep time under our belts. Maybe a larger team? We could bring in a few friends and allies from around the different bases to provide help. Do you think Gregor would be down for a mission like that?”

  “I doubt it,” he replied and looked up when he heard Courtney raise her voice inside the suite. Despite the fact that almost everything ran on autopilot in Philly, they still needed to work with her and at least keep her in the loop on the company’s decisions. Now that the stock sales were in progress, there was a considerable number of issues to keep her in the loop on. “He called us in when he was forced to go on an immediate run into the Zoo on the FSB’s orders. If we asked, he’d probably say yes, but you don’t want to force someone into a situation like that, you know?”

  She nodded. “There’s also the small point of him heading back to Russia to face the music for asking us for help.”

  “Who told you that?” he asked.

  “Anja said she was trying to help him by making sure some of the incriminating records disappeared,” she
explained. “I remember that specifically since she told me that if she disappeared randomly in the middle of the night and didn’t come back, that would be the reason. Apparently, it was possible that the sharper trackers in the FSB might be able to find her based on what she did.”

  “Huh. Fair enough. Is there anyone else whom we might be able to call in for a job like this?”

  She held off on answering and looked up as the glass door of the terrace opened. Courtney wore a deep-purple bikini draped with a long, elegant, and almost transparent sarong that was blue with yellow floral patterns. Her hair was done up like she anticipated some enjoyment of the day, but she looked stressed as she spoke into the phone.

  “Yes.” She growled and put Anderson on speakerphone to allow her companions to listen to the conversation as well. “I’m well aware of the fact that most of the stock purchases were made by me, but the rest of the board doesn’t know that.”

  “They suspect it,” Anderson replied. “Hey, Sal, Kennedy.”

  Madigan raised a hand in greeting and Sal nodded as their teammate joined them. The former colonel had definitely pulled his weight as part of Courtney’s team over the past few months, and while they had started on opposing sides, the man had more than proven that he was there to help.

  “Suspecting isn’t the same as knowing, Anderson,” Courtney continued, sat on the edge of the jacuzzi beside Sal, and rubbed his shoulder gently. “So long as they don’t know for a fact, they can suspect all they want.”

  “Okay,” he conceded. “I’ll try to play it off innocently but I’m not sure if I’m built for all this politicking.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, James,” she encouraged him. “You’re better at this than you think. Besides, people don’t like to question the word of a military veteran.”