Free Extinction Machine by Jonathan Maberry

happened?” asked Mr. Bones.
    “Isn’t it obvious? Someone else has developed a working device before us.”
    “Who?”
    “It could be anyone,” said Hoshino. “It could be the Chinese. They’ve acquired most of the D-type components that were on the black market recently, and they’ve had an army of agents out there looking for more.”
    “No,” said Howard. “If they had a complete device we’d know it by now.”
    “Maybe we do know,” said Hoshino. “Maybe that’s what we’re seeing now. This could be their opening move.”
    Howard constructed a brooding and contemplative face. “If they had a device,” he said dubiously, “they’d have to test it first before they did anything like this.”
    “If you ever bothered to read my reports,” said Hoshino, “you’d see that there’s some indication of that. Sightings are up all over the world.”
    “Oh, hell,” barked Howard, “we’re seeding most of that crap into the press. And a lot of it’s faked by morons hoping to get onto one of those stupid specials. They spray a Frisbee with silver paint and get one of their asshole friends to throw it over the house so they can take a picture of it with a cell phone.”
    “Some of it,” agreed Hoshino. “Not all.”
    “What are you saying?” asked Mr. Bones.
    “I’m saying that there’s something up there and it’s not us,” said Hoshino. “It could very well be the Chinese. Maybe they’ve finished testing their device and this abduction is the opening move in something bigger.”
    Mr. Bones grunted. “Maybe … but having a device and being willing to use it in such an outrageous way is a big jump. Attacking us like this?”
    “It might not be the opening salvo of a war,” said Hoshino. “It could be an attempt to send a message.”
    “You mean a threat?” asked Howard.
    “Of a kind,” she conceded. “Something that only certain people would be able to recognize for what it is. People like us.”
    “Are you saying they’re behind the sabotage of our computer systems, too?” asked Howard.
    “We’re not the only ones being attacked,” said Hoshino.
    “That’s not the point. Someone is waging a war … but I don’t buy China for any of this. Maybe the attack on us, if they had the tools, which they don’t, but not taking the president. That’s just too risky for them. They’d have to know that if we got wind of who was behind something like this, even if the president is returned unharmed, we’d retaliate. China’s tough, but they’re not as tough as the press paints them. They’re not ready for a nuclear exchange or even an air war. The Seventh Fleet would love any opportunity to prove that they aren’t patrolling those waters for show.”
    “What about the Russians?” asked Hoshino. “They’re working on something—”
    “They were working on something,” corrected Mr. Bones, “until Pietrovich woke up dead.”
    “Wait … what? Pietrovich is dead? When did that happen?” demanded Hoshino.
    Mr. Bones cleared his throat. “End of September.”
    “Why wasn’t I told?”
    Another pause. “Guess it was an oversight. Sorry, Yuina. Didn’t mean to cut you out of the loop.”
    “Loop?” Yuina Hoshino turned to Howard. “Did you know about this?”
    “Well, yes,” he said blandly. “I’m shocked Bones didn’t tell you.”
    “Sorry we didn’t tell you,” said Howard. “It was one of Erasmus Tull’s quiet little magic tricks.”
    “Tull?” said Hoshino with distaste. “I thought he retired.”
    Howard snorted. “He’s only as retired as we want him to be.”
    “And you didn’t think it was important to tell me any of this?”
    “I said I was sorry, but it’s done and Pietrovich is in the ground. What matters is that it closed down a line of research that could have hurt us. If you want me to go whip myself later, Yuina, then fine. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea fuck me culpa. Correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s yesterday’s box score and