CHAPTER 17

“Hey, Joe.”

“Boss. What’s up?”

“Special request. And it’s ugly.”

Joseph paused, recalibrating his expectations for this conversation. He had been thinking about something else entirely. “All right, lay it on me.”

His boss pushed a file across the table. Joe picked it up, read it. Sat down; read it some more. Finally he looked up. “You weren’t kidding.”

“They want it quiet. And permanent.”

“This is an order?”

“You know how these things go.”

“Yeah, but I’ve never been handed one.”

“I know. You get picked for one of these because the right people have faith in you. I picked you because I think you can handle it. You and a few others. This can’t ever be official. But sometimes it’s necessary.”

“And this is necessary?”

His boss reached across the desk and flipped the file to a back section. “One thing about this sort of work, they need us more than we need them. Which means they don’t get this sort of thing no-questions-asked.”

Joe was staring at the documentation and trying to come to grasp with what he saw in it.

“This can’t be real,” he said.

“That’s what I said,” his boss answered. “It’s real.” Joseph sat back and closed his eyes tightly.

“Take your time.”

He took his time. The implications were vast; they spread out like forking lightning, into every part of his life—which until that moment had been so very settled, so very orderly and sensible. Joseph had a good, steady job (if an odd one); his family was well taken-care-of. He had every expectation of surviving until retirement, and his retirement would be comfortable, funded by a pension and a reasonably well-managed mutual fund portfolio. He loved his wife and his children, and they were basically happy. There were troubles, certainly, and she had made clear that she would welcome his retirement from field work, but since marrying her he had never cheated, and he had not a shadow of a doubt about her fidelity in turn. His children might have benefitted by his spending more time at home, but he and his wife had always been candid with them about the requirements of his job, and during his time at home he gave them as much of his attention as he could afford. They were making good grades, and the eldest was succeeding athletically as well. Could a man ask for more?

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

All of that, which had seemed set in and upon stone, he now saw as a house built upon a sheet of thinnest glass. For the first time he could see through the glass. Below it, a staggering abyss, and in that abyss, monsters. All of the existence he had made—indeed, all of his life, and all the history of his civilization—had grown up in the brief moment before one of these elder, vaster things had happened to glance his way and take notice. He opened his eyes.

“How many people know about this?”

It was a stupid question. It was a pointless question. Yet, in this case, he had to know. How many people knew about this, and had kept the secret? How long had this been going on under the noses of an entire world?

“Just a few. It’ll get out before too long, they suspect, but we have to be ready. If we want to live, we have to get this right. Which means you and I have to do work like this."

Joseph rubbed his temples, and then his face. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“So you can take care of this?”

“Yes.”

“Any problems?”

“No. Well…”

His boss looked at him, waiting.

“Constantine might be a problem. He won’t understand.”

“He’s away. Should be gone for a few weeks with Det Charlie. That’s one reason I’m bringing this to you now.”

“Mm,” said Joe. That did make things easier, at least for now. “All right,” he concluded. “Resources?”

“Basically unlimited. This comes down from the top. I mean the top,” added Joseph’s boss, emphasizing his words.

“I hear you. I get what I want, but I better not screw it up.”

“There can be no failure here.”

“No shit.”

“Get started immediately. Time’s short. All requests for support go through me directly, face to face. Pick your people, but minimum crew, and I approve each selection.”

“Yes, sir,” said Joe, standing. “We’ll get it done.”

“I know you will. And Joe,” he added, hesitating. “This is a dirty business,” he said slowly. “If you need anything—you or your team—just let me know.”