Grierson had always expected this day to be one giant headache, but he never imagined what a brain-tumor-the-size-of-a-grapefruit migraine it would turn into. 

He massaged his temples as Wesley drove him away from Aira.  When they cleared the last checkpoint, he turned both his phones back on.  There was a brief moment of peace—a cosmic reprieve—while they connected back into the network and showed no activity.  Then six texts from his employer popped up in rapid succession.

Damn it!

He shouldn't have been so shocked that they wanted an immediate report on the situation, but he had been hoping for the opportunity to do it on his timetable.  They usually granted him that.  Grierson really wasn't ready to be called in on the mat for this colossal fuck-up, but they'd been trying to reach him for over two hours and he didn't dare keep them waiting any longer.

He smoothed his hair back and loosened his tie, trying to build some composure. 

"Grierson here," he said when the line connected.

"We need to meet right now."

"Look, I know things haven't gone as planned but I'm on top of it."

"Don't worry about that—we have complete confidence in you.  But there's been a new development.  We need a face-to-face and it can't wait."  He gave Grierson the coordinates.

"Christ.  That's in the middle of nowhere.  I'm supposed to be on a plane at eight o'clock."

"You'll miss it.  Be there in thirty minutes."

Grierson fumed at the deadline and pressed the hang-up button with extra force.  There were somethings that old technology was just better at.  This was a call that deserved a good slam of the receiver.

"Wesley, it looks like I won't be catching that flight after all.  Take the 10 south to Tucson.  I'll let you know when to turn off."

It was probably all very routine, but the years had taught him that paranoia was a virtue.  He pulled the Berretta out of his briefcase and checked the chamber.  Assured of its functionality, he slipped it under the center armrest, so it was hidden but easy to reach. 

Tell me not to worry and ask me to meet you in the middle of the goddamn desert...my mother didn't raise any fools.

Dawn was starting to filter light back into the world.  Flashes of sunlight burst between the buildings, and when the city was left behind, it hid in childish spurts behind the boulders and mountains.

Grierson debated sacrificing Wiley.  It would be so simple to lay all the responsibility at his feet.  The idiot was still MIA.  It was almost as though he was daring Grierson to blame this mess on him.  On the other hand, The Music Box was desperately short-staffed.  Removing one more person would only add work to Grierson's problems.

Now that the site was secure, LARS's care staff would need to go back and maintain the facility.  Was there enough left to do it?  Like Wiley, there had been no word on Kendell, Benning, and Gracie.  That was a quarter of the personnel, which may or may not be returning.  Then there was Blass.

He'd been airlifted back to the hospital at Davis-Monthan.  Grierson had seen other men survive worse injuries but Blass was past his prime.  The baseline medical they ran on him when he started would have seen him fail entrance into every military or police force in the country.  Grierson had known men who could have practically walked off that gutshot, but a mealy office worker like Blass...  Even if he did live, it would be weeks or months before he was fit for service. 

And even if everyone was found and brought back, if Blass made a miraculous recovery, there were still four dead that needed to be replaced.

Grierson would love to have known what happened down in that bunker.  But with security cameras shut down and no conscious or human witnesses, the chain of events that led to the massacre might always be a mystery.

Two dead from gunshot wounds.  Nothing left of Miller but a pile of ashes.  And Bowman—that poor son-of-a-bitch.

When Grierson had arrived at the Observation Center, Bowman had still been mostly alive.  The sick sounds of whimpering and guttural animal snarls had made Grierson walk straight over to the window, ignoring the bodies of the fallen men and the wide pool of blood covering the floor.

Bowman was a patchwork of blood and nauseating gore, where body parts and flesh were missing.  The wolf was toying with him.  It circled him before lowering its head to his shin and pulling a long strip of muscle off.  She flung her head back and slurped it down like a salmon fresh from a river.  Bowman was too weak to do anything other than moan.

The beast was majestic in its sadism.  The way she took her time to draw his suffering out was artful.  It was a shame she would never become a tool of the Agency.  She would be a magnificent asset.  The possibilities danced in Grierson's head.

He was so enwrapped by his fantasies, Grierson had forgotten about the special ops team who had accompanied him into the bunker.  The captain had to repeat his question before it registered.

"Your orders, sir?"

"Orders?"

"This man is still breathing.  Should we take him up to the surface?"  Grierson glanced back to see two soldiers performing CPR and emergency medical on Blass.  "And do you want us to kill that...that thing?"  He pointed at the window and Grierson's gaze followed it back, as though drawn by magnets.

Killing that glorious creature would solve so many problems, but there were always other concerns to balance.  Grierson would have to account for every decision.  There would be reports and review committees.  The DTAA would not take kindly to him ordering the execution of their prize.

And Bowman's life also weighed heavily on that scale.

Who knew how much longer she could keep him alive like that, slowly eating him?  Could he possibly live to survive this, if they stopped her?  Could he possibly make a recovery from the damage done to his body and mind?  What might he reveal in debriefing?  What secrets might spill from his mouth?

"No!  We can't kill that animal.  That is the most valuable thing down here.  But there should be a switch to gas the room and knock it out.  Help me find it."

Grierson scanned the control panel until he located it.  If it had been damaged it might have bought him a little time.  But except for a spray of blood, everything looked in working order.  The only thing out of place on the board was a small orange light that glowed with a faint ray of hope: the intercom had been left on.

There was a weak squeal as LARS ripped away the yellow fabric from Bowman's midsection revealing a wide swath of smooth, unblemished skin.

"This is all just so awful.  That poor man."  Grierson staggered against the console feigning weakness.  He panted a deep breath and leaned forward so his mouth was close to the microphone.  "So long as there is a chance to save him, we have to do everything we can.  We have to find the switch for the gas and stop that monster.  Look harder."

Her ears perked and she jerked forward, pressing her face onto the man's flesh and buried her snout into his belly.  She ripped and tore a hole through his abdomen burrowing into the cavity of his body.  Bowman thrashed in agony before collapsing as his life was suddenly extinguished.

She pulled her head out and spat the mangled heart onto the floor.  Her blood-soaked gaze turned to the OC with a cold, defiant stare.

Good girl.  Thank you for taking care of that loose end for me.

"I think I found it," the Captain said.

"No point now."  Grierson patted his brow with a handkerchief and looking very old and shaken.  "We're too late."

"But shouldn't we knock that fucking thing out anyway?"

"Too dangerous.  No telling what damage it might do to the specimen.  There's a standing order to only use the gas when human life is in danger."

"But it's going to eat him."

"It's terrible but we can't worry about that right now.  There are more urgent things to expend our efforts on."  He gestured to Blass, who was being strapped to a stretcher.  "Get him out of here.  Order a medivac and call ahead to the base to get an OR ready for him.  Our duty is toward the living now.  Besides, he might be the only one who can tell us what the hell happened."

Not that he would know much.  Lucky him, his ignorance might save his life.

Would Wiley's ignorance save him?  The question still plagued Grierson as they pulled off onto a dirt road and rumbled through the dust.

No, he decided, it was a shame but he'd have to go.  Gross incompetence, he'd put down in the report.  Then he'd have to recommend some new patsy to run The Music Box until SBI got what they wanted.

Grierson was almost expecting an assault force to be waiting for him around the blind turn.  It was a relief to see only Palmer's rented Ford parked at the side of the road.  The sun sat behind it, blazing its light across the sky in blinding waves.  They pulled up alongside and almost immediately a shot shattered the driver's window and the car's interior was splattered with Wesley's brains.

The shooter leaped out of the Torus and opened the door through the broken window, letting the corpse fall to the ground.  Deftly, the killer slipped inside and knelt backward on the seat.

"Sorry about that, but I wanted us to have a chance to speak privately.  You have a lot to answer for."  The woman pointing the gun over the headrest looked like some ghost bride.  Her face was clean and pale.  Her hair hung down in ratty wet strands like she had just come from a drowning.  And her clothes were crimson with dried blood.

"Ms. Gracie, how lovely you look this morning."  Grierson smiled.  He guided his pistol until it pressed against the back of the seat.  Nothing in his upper arms or shoulders gave off any sign of movement.

***

Author's Note: So this is the second of Grierson's two scenes. Originally they were written together to appear in this spot of the chapter. Also, I originally ended it with him pulling up to Palmer's car. I decided to remove some of the ambiguity of an implied showdown between the two and instead end it with Barbara and Grierson pointing guns at one another. It was a big challenge to write from Grierson's POV and only slowly reveal that he's on SBI's payroll. I'm not sure at what point readers will catch on or how confusing some of this scene might be without that knowledge. If it didn't work for you, let me know.