Delta Green: Through a Glass, Darkly by Dennis Detwiller

Author:Dennis Detwiller [Detwiller, Dennis]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Delta Green (Fiction)
Publisher: Arc Dream Publishing
Published: 2011-08-24T06:00:00+00:00

Feints Within Feints

Lepus lays down his hand: Radisson Hotel, 15 Fulton Street, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. 39.93 N/75.18 W latitude/longitude. Approximately 2,374 miles from Seattle, Washington: Monday, February 5, 2001, 4:06 A.M. EST.

The phone was ringing. Lepus snatched it up and sat up in bed. He had been sleeping uneasily, dreaming of things he could not recall clearly—and for that simple fact he was profoundly grateful. He was fully dressed in his usual black suit. He wiped the sleep from his eyes as he struggled to regain his edge. He looked like a corpse come back to life to critique its own funeral.

“Lepus,” he spoke into the encrypted flip-phone.

“Get your ass back to the Country Club, we have a situation,” Ross barked into the phone. Lepus’ supposed boss was in rare form tonight.

Lepus glanced at the clock on the mantle and considered the options. Something catastrophic had happened. Most likely some ass-up involving BLUE FLY or ZEUS. Maybe the Greys had finally returned MAJESTIC’s hundreds of unanswered communications or had snatched another base. Perhaps Ross had sensed Kroft finally moving in for the kill.

“What are you talking about?” Lepus said, pushing back his hair.

“Coffey’s dead. Kroft has hit the ceiling. Get back here, now.” Ross’ voice was full of ire. Shit rolls downhill—the first rule of politics. Right now, by his calculations, Lepus was in the number three shit-slurping spot. But not for long.

He had considered his options, and had tried to stretch the time between his silent, stage-left exit from the Country Club and his final confrontation with those in command. Now his hand was forced. He had things to do. He had people to kill and places to level, and he sure as hell didn’t need Gavin “High and Mighty” Ross looking down his nose at him all the while. Or, worse yet, Ross putting the kibosh on his little reunion plans.

“You know what, Ross?” Lepus responded casually. “You are a Pure D asshole. You can take your command and stick it up your pinhole-sized ass. That is, if you can make it fit.”

Silence on the line.

“This is no time for fucking jokes,” Ross said as if this kind of insubordination was commonplace. “Get your team back here now.” But Lepus could smell the panic. Ross was trying too hard to pretend nothing was wrong.

“Who’s joking, you spineless freak? I don’t need you anymore. I’ve got shit to do. Stop getting in my way.”

“Lepus, you go AWOL again and Kroft won’t protect you!” Ross hissed.

“Protect me? From who? You? Who you going to kill me with, old man? Coffey’s gone. You got anyone else in Section DELTA you trust to side with you and not me? My own fucking men? Keep dreaming! How about in the recently widowed BLUE FLY?”

More silence on the line.

Ross was checking his calculations, suddenly unsure of his own part in the equation. The men of NRO DELTA worshipped Lepus in the way the SS had revered Hitler. Lepus was the epitome of the heartless killer, the archetype of the government mechanic—but it went beyond that.

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