A peek at the next book, Darwin’s Cipher

Jon LaForce scrambled down the steep path leading into Tikaboo Valley and took a swig from the cheap red wine he’d bought from a nearby gas station. Almost immediately a flush crept up his neck and warmed his cheeks.
He’d just been fired for the second time this month.
He wasn’t sure what had brought him out into the middle of nowhere in southeastern Nevada.
When he was a kid, his friends used to talk about coming out here to spy on the military planes as they took off and landed. They used to whisper about secret experiments, mysterious clouds in the sky, and of course, UFOs. After all, this was supposed to be where they kept those aliens. Area 51.
Jon didn’t believe any of that crap, and he doubted any of his friends had ever had the guts to actually sneak onto the grounds or even come out this way. And as he looked around, he had to admit they weren’t missing much. Just acres of thick desert sagebrush.
Suddenly, something broke through the thick sagebrush at the bottom of the slope.
Jon drew his Glock from its holster and took a shooter’s stance. Bobcats sometimes prowled these hills.
But it was just a stray dog. Dark brown coat, long tail, floppy ears—might be a chocolate lab.
Jon whistled.“Hey, boy, what are you doing out here?”
The dog wagged its tail furiously and bounded toward him.
Jon holstered his gun and held his hand out for the dog to sniff. As the animal huffed at his hand and ran its nose up and down the legs of his trousers, Jon noticed a bloody wound on its front right leg.
“Did something take a bite out of you, old boy?”
The dog whined and glanced back toward the scrub.
Jon scratched the dog’s head. “Your coat’s nice and shiny, and you look well fed. Someone’s probably looking for you. Maybe I should get you to a shelter and see if they can find your owner. I sure as hell can’t take care of you. I can barely take care of myself nowadays.”
A rustle of movement sounded in the sagebrush about fifty yards away.
The dog whined, took a few steps up the slope, and turned to Jon as if to say, “Are you coming?”
Jon drew his Glock once more and took a step toward the sound.
The lab darted in front of him and gave a low growl.
“Shh…”
Jon stepped around the dog.
The dog nipped at his pant leg and pulled hard on his jeans, trying to drag him up the slope, away from the sound.
“What the hell are you doing, mutt?” Jon yanked his leg away and gave the dog a sideways kick, which it easily dodged.
The dog backed away, whining, then yipped once and raced up the hill.
At the base of the slope, two dark animals burst through the sagebrush. Two more dogs, both nearly identical in appearance to the chocolate lab.
But very different in demeanor.
These dogs had neither wagging tails nor lolling tongues. They eyed Jon menacingly, lowered their heads, and stalked closer.
Jon aimed his gun and called out in a friendly tone, “Hey, boys, are you missing a friend of yours?”
As soon as he trained the Glock on the animals, they split, one going to his left, the other to his right.
His heart thudding, Jon aimed at the dog on his right.  The animal immediately darted behind a boulder.
It was almost as if the animal knew the gun was dangerous.
Hearing the other dog’s nails scraping on the gravel, Jon wheeled around and fired a warning shot.
The animal continued to advance, but it used a jerky zigzag pattern, making it difficult to aim.
A chill raced up Jon’s spine.
His gun arm shaking, Jon focused on the approaching dog. For a split second his mind flashed back to his time as an artilleryman in Afghanistan. Back then, he shot at enemies he could barely see. Now, for the first time in his life, he was within spitting distance of his target as he squeezed the trigger.
The animal had just begun to leap when the bullet slammed into its shoulder.
It fell to the ground with a whimper.
At almost the same moment, Jon felt over one hundred pounds of canine smash against his back. The second dog knocked him off his feet and clamped its vise-like jaws on the wrist of his shooting hand.
Jon struggled with the growling animal. He started to yell when his voice was suddenly trapped in his throat. The dog he’d shot had clamped down tightly on his throat.
He fell back, his windpipe closing against the animal’s impossibly strong jaws. His vision wavered as he strained for breath.
His heart pounding with terror, he prayed. My God, there’s so much I could have…
The world faded to black.

###

Hans Reinhardt stood at the top of the rocky slope and breathed in the acrid smoke of burning sagebrush. A half dozen men in fatigues spewed hellfire from their flamethrowers, and all across the burning landscape, stones cracked in the fierce heat.
The operation had been going well—until now. Now everything had turned to crap. A complete disaster. Despite the assurances from his bosses in the German Federal Intelligence Service, not to mention the US handlers in Langley, Hans knew it was time to reset. He needed to move the operation to a more remote location. One with less chance of … “incidents.”
The base commander, an Air Force colonel, walked up and stood beside him. “His name was Jonathan LaForce, Marine artilleryman, ten years out of Afghanistan with an honorable discharge.”
“What the hell was he doing here? I thought this base was secure.”
The base commander shifted his weight nervously. “The base is secure. However, we underestimated the containment measures needed in the kennel. I reviewed the security tape myself; it seems one of the experiments figured out how to open the latch to its stall. Once it escaped, the others managed to copy it actions. And before anyone could stop them, the animals had dug a hole under the perimeter fence.”
Hans kicked a stone in frustration. “A dead Marine is the last thing we need. How big of a problem is this going to be?”
The colonel’s discomfort increased. “The good news is, he was one of those disaffected types. No family, and it looks like he was out of a job. A wanderer who probably won’t have anyone searching for him any time soon. We’ll deal with his remains.”
“And the experiments? Have they all been tracked down and decommissioned?”
“We tracked five of the animals through the signal coming off their PIT tags. We captured and disposed of them.” The colonel blew out a deep breath. “Unfortunately, we have not yet been able to locate the sixth. I’ve sent out the drones. They’re programmed to run grids across the terrain, looking for the animal’s signal.”
Hans silently wondered how such an incompetent ass had come to be the base commander at a supposedly high-security location. “We don’t have time for a lengthy search, Colonel. We cannot have one of our experiments encountering civilians.”
“We’ll track the dog down—”
“That’s not a fucking dog, you moron!” Hans snapped. “It’s a specially bred nightmare with enough strength and intelligence to escape your so-called ‘secure’ kennel and take out an armed ex-Marine who got in its way.”
The colonel’s jaw tightened.
“Listen to me,” Hans continued.“Both my neck and yours are on the line if any of this gets out. We can’t risk our arrangement being exposed. And let’s face it, your government has already proven itself incapable of keeping things out of Wikileaks.”
“Mr.Reinhardt,” said the colonel, “believe me, I know exactly what’s at stake. You do not need to remind me. This is a black operation, and it’s staying that way. I’m overseeing the cleanup personally. We found evidence of the sixth experiment’s blood, so we know it’s wounded, which will limit its ability to elude us. Between the contractors on foot and the drones in the air, we’ll find it.”
Hans glared. “You damn well better.”

###

Frank O’Reilly poured a few inches of pea gravel into the fence-post hole he’d just dug. He glanced over his shoulder at Johnny, one of the ranch hands he’d recently hired.
“Make sure you get at least three inches of these rocks into the hole and tamp it down good, like this,” he said, tamping the rocks down with a large wooden pole. “We need a solid footing for the fence posts. Them cattle will rub up against just about anything, so these here posts need to be sturdy, you understand?”
“Yessir, Mr.O’Reilly. And you need them posts eight feet apart so them sixteen-foot planks can span two openings, right?”
“That’s right. Make sure them posts are square with the ground and space them evenly.”
Frank handed Johnny the post-hole digger. The ranch hand had just turned eighteen, and Frank couldn’t help but remember when his Kathy was that age. Johnny had that same lively spirit and energy that Frank’s baby girl had when she took off for the world.
He patted Johnny on the shoulder.“You got this?”
“Yessir, but if’n you don’t mind my asking, why all of a sudden you takin’ on help? You fixin’ to retire?”
Frank laughed and shook his head. “Johnny, I might be fifty-three, but I’ve still got quite a bit of life left in me. Just get the job done, and you best be minding what I said about doing a quality job. I’m going to check all your work, so don’t take no shortcuts, you hear?”
“Yessir. Don’t have to worry about that.” Johnny hefted the post-hole digger and walked to the next flagged spot.
As Frank turned away, he nearly tripped on a dog that was sitting right behind him.
“Damn it, where the heck did you come from?”
The chocolate lab just sat there with its tongue lolling.
A beautiful animal. Shiny coat, heavily-muscled body, and obviously well-fed. Not a stray.
Frank held out his hand. “Are you friendly?”
The dog stood, and its tail became a blur.
It sniffed at Frank’s hand, then lowered its nose and sniffed at his boot and up along his jeans. Finally it sat back on his haunches, licked its lips, and whined.
Frank tilted his head, unsure what the dog was trying to say. Then it hit him, and he laughed. “Ah! I know why you’re so interested in me.”
He pulled a folded-up piece of homemade beef jerky from his pocket and tossed it to the dog.
The animal snatched it from the air and chewed contentedly.
“Well, I best be off, pup. I’ll get a tongue-lashing if I’m not home in time for supper.”
Frank walked up to the house. As he drew near, he heard paws padding along behind him. Figures. I know better than to feed a dog.
He purposefully ignored the animal and started up the steps to the porch of the white ranch-style house. The aroma of roasting beef was in the air.
Megan stepped out onto the porch. “Oh good, you’re back. Dinner is almost ready. Go get washed up.”
He gave her a peck on the lips. “Smells good.”
She looked past him. “You made a friend?”
The lab now sat at the bottom of the porch steps, looking hopeful.
Frank shook his head. “I made the mistake of giving him some beef jerky.”
Megan pushed her shoulder-length auburn hair behind her ears, knelt, and patted the wooden deck of the porch. “Here, boy, did you like the jerky?”
The dog bounded up the stairs and lay down in front of her, its belly up and its long tail sweeping back and forth over the wooden planks.
Megan giggled as she rubbed the dog’s belly.
“You’re such a good boy.” She looked up at Frank with that sheepish smile he knew so well. “Do you think anyone owns him?”
“No idea. He just wandered up. He’s obviously been cared for, but he’s not wearing a collar or anything.” He hesitated. “I thought after Daisy died, you swore—”
“Oh, you poor thing!” Megan exclaimed.She was examining the dog’s front right leg. “It looks like he got into a fight or something.”
The dog whimpered as she fussed over his injury.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Frank said.
“No.” Megan stood and wiped her hands on her apron. “We’re going to take him to the vet and get him looked at.”
Frank wondered how much the vet would try to gouge him for. “He’s not even our dog.”
Megan gave him that look that said her mind was set. “Then we can have the vet check him for one of them chips they put in dogs nowadays.”
Megan was five feet tall and built like a pixie, but once she set her mind to something, she was immovable. If thirty years of marriage had taught Frank anything, it was that.
He raised his hands in defeat. “What about dinner?”
“Dinner will keep.” Megan walked into the house and motioned for the dog to follow, which it did. “I think we still have Daisy’s old bowls. I’ll see if this boy is thirsty while you go call the vet and tell him we’re on our way.”

###

The examination room door opened, and a blue-smocked veterinary assistant with a long black ponytail stepped out. “O’Reilly?” she called.
Frank waved. “Right here.”
Her gaze shifted to the chocolate lab lying between Frank’s and Megan’s feet. “And what’s your name, gorgeous?”
“He doesn’t—”
“Jasper,” Megan announced, as if that had always been his name.
Frank groaned inwardly. He hoped she wasn’t getting attached. This animal belonged to someone. No way would a stray look as healthy as he did.
“Well, let’s get Jasper weighed and see how he’s doing.”
“Jasper” stood up the moment Megan did, and he obediently trotted after her into the examination room. Frank, shaking his head, followed.
The veterinary assistant—the name “Sherri” was stenciled on her scrubs—stopped beside a large metal scale. “Let’s see if we can coax Jasper on here.”
Before Megan could even nudge the dog in the right direction, Jasper walked over and stepped on the scale.
“Ha, what a good boy,” Sherri said. “Wow, 125.8 pounds. I’d never have guessed it.” She scribbled the weight on a sheet of paper and slid it into Jasper’s chart.
“Do you have one of those chip scanners?” Frank asked. He ignored Megan’s severe look. “Jasper just wandered onto our property today, and he has no collar or tags. We don’t know anyone who’s missing a lab in our area. But we wanted to do the right thing and see if he’d been chipped or not.”
“Oh, of course. Be right back.” Sherri disappeared through another door and returned a moment later with what looked like a thick stick with a small loop on its end.
Megan grabbed Frank’s hand.
Sherri passed the wand back and forth over Jasper’s back. “Hmm. Most vets inject the chip between the animal’s shoulders, and I’m not seeing anything there.”
Megan squeezed Frank’s hand tighter.
“Let’s just make sure there isn’t one anywhere else.” Sherri slowly moved the wand over Jasper’s hind quarters and then back toward the front again.
As she neared the right front leg, the dog whined.
“It’s okay, Jasper,” Megan said soothingly. “She’s not going to hurt you.”
The veterinary assistant paused over the dirt-encrusted wound. “Poor baby, you’ve got an ouchie. Dr.Dew will make it all better.” She finished dragging the wand over Jasper and shook her head. “No chips that I can find.”
Frank sensed Megan’s smile without even having to look. He sighed with the realization they had just adopted a dog.
“Okay,” he said. “In that case, in addition to tending to that wound, let’s get Jasper a full workup.”
“Dr. Dew will be in to look at Jasper in a bit. And since it looks like Jasper is favoring his right front leg, we may need to take x-rays and sedate him to treat the wound. It’ll be at least four hundred dollars.” She raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Just fix him up,” Megan said quickly. “We’ll pay whatever is necessary.”
Frank kissed the top of Megan’s head. There was no arguing with Mrs. O’Reilly over such things.

###

They spent nearly an hour in the waiting room, with Megan fidgeting the whole time. And when at last the vet appeared—without Jasper—Megan grabbed Frank’s arm and held it tightly.
The vet was a huge man with a bodybuilder’s physique, yet his voice was soft, almost effeminate. He gave Frank and Megan a wide smile. “Jasper will be coming out of sedation in about twenty minutes, but he’ll be fine. It looks like he must have gotten into a fight, and the wound got infected. Luckily, the x-rays showed no breaks. However, it’s lucky that we did that x-ray, because I probably wouldn’t have seen this otherwise.”
He pulled a clear plastic baggie from his lab coat and handed it to Frank.
It contained a four-inch-long metal wire.
“That wire managed to lodge itself between the skin and muscle just above the wound,” Dr. Dew continued.“I have no idea how it could have gotten in there, but it came out without any problems.”
“So… he’s okay?”
Another broad smile. “Jasper’s still a little loopy at the moment, but just fine. All stitched up. He’s on antibiotics, which he’ll need to take twice a day, and I’m also going to give you some ointment that needs to go on the wound on a daily basis.”
Barking sounded from the back, and Jasper came bounding into the waiting room, his gait a bit awkward, one foot wrapped up like a mummy. He raced straight to Megan and spun rapidly with excitement as if he’d expected to never see her again.
Sherri came in right behind him. “I’m sorry, Dr. Dew, but Jasper woke up early and began frantically pawing at the door. I didn’t want him to pull any of his stitches. It looks like he really wanted his mommy.”
Megan scratched Jasper’s head. Clearly the two had already formed a bond.
“Well, we can’t have this big guy breaking down any doors,” said Dr. Dew, laughing.“I’m quite sure he’s the biggest lab I’ve ever seen. It’s odd, because he doesn’t look like he’d be any heavier than seventy-five pounds or so, which is still heavy for a lab, but this boy has got some incredibly dense musculature. And judging by his teeth, he’s still young. He might grow a bit more yet.”
Frank groaned.“I’m already tired just thinking about how much work it’ll be just to afford keeping him fed.”
Jasper walked away from them, grabbed a doggie blanket that was tucked under one of the waiting room chairs, brought it back, and laid it on Frank’s lap.
Megan smiled. “Aww, he heard you’re tired and he brought you a blanket.”
Dr. Dew patted Jasper on his head. “You’re one smart dog.”
Jasper sat up a bit straighter and woofed in agreement.
Frank couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right about this animal. But as he watched Megan fawning over her “widdle Jasper,” he knew that what he thought no longer mattered.