Damned Into Hell Read online

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Legal

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  Author Notes - NG

  Author Notes - Michael Anderle

  Series List

  Social Links

  DEDICATION

  From Natalie

  For M and T

  From Michael

  To Family, Friends and

  Those Who Love

  To Read.

  May We All Enjoy Grace

  To Live The Life We Are

  Called.

  DAMNED TO HELL

  Team Includes

  Beta Readers

  Dorene Johnson (US Navy (Ret) & DD)

  Diane Velasquez (Chinchilla Lady & DD)

  Editors

  Stephen Russell

  JIT Beta Readers - From both of us, our deepest gratitude!

  Alex Wilson

  Kimberly Boyer

  Joshua Ahles

  John Findlay

  Micky Cocker

  Keith Verret

  Tim Cox

  Ginger Sparkman

  James Caplan

  John Raisor

  If I missed anyone, please let us know!

  Damned To Hell (this book) is a work of fiction.

  All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Copyright © 2017 Michael T. Anderle

  Cover by Jeff Brown www.jeffbrowngraphics.com

  Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

  PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  First US edition, May, 2017

  Version 1.00

  The Kurtherian Gambit (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are copyright © 2017 by Michael T. Anderle.

  Montpellier, France

  A loud bang echoed and the truck skidded across the centerline toward oncoming traffic. Maurice Vannier swore, and hauled at the steering wheel desperately, as cars hurtling toward him laid on their horns to swerve out of the way.

  “I know! I know, goddammit!” he yelled back at them while turning desperately.

  Did they not see the truck swerving? Did they think he was doing this on purpose?

  Maurice gripped harder on the steering wheel as it tried to jerk from his control. The road wound down the mountainside, and a steep drop off lay only a few yards away. His mouth was dry with fear, even as his body went through the motions to pull the truck back across the lanes of traffic and onto the shoulder. Another few cars honked as they went past, furious at having been briefly inconvenienced.

  Mercifully, the truck finally was fought to a stop and he sagged back in his seat, heart pounding.

  It was several long moments before he could convince himself to climb down out of the truck.

  He was still trembling, and he knew what he was going to see. He swore quietly to himself as he jumped down onto the shoulder and went around to look at the tires. One of the back tires was completely gone. Shreds of rubber were visible on the road behind him.

  At least the rim wasn’t bent.

  But, he wasn’t going to get this cargo to Madrid on time. Not even close! The truck couldn’t make it without the tires, and the Lord only knew how long it was going to take to get a replacement this far out.

  “Putain!” Maurice kicked at the tire in a sudden fury. “Va te faire foutre!” He needed this job. Work had dried up, Anisa was threatening to leave him again, his landlord was always coming after him for the rent—which was always a week late at least.

  He’d called in every favor he had, and still had to wheedle Henri into giving him this job. The man had given him a lecture on reliability while Maurice bit his tongue. He’d debased himself by listening to that lecture, and now Henri was going to say giving him the job had been a mistake. And it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t! A blown tire could happen to anyone.

  But it happened to him. Of course, it happened to him—and, of course, it happened with the biggest payday their firm had seen in years. A big shipment to Spain, some rich person who didn’t want too many questions asked.

  If the authorities come, you do whatever you have to do to keep them from looking in the truck.

  And—of course—they would come now, because the truck was stuck in a mountain pass. Maurice pounded his fist on the side of the truck. Then, because there was nothing else to do, he pulled his phone out and dialed Henri’s number.

  “C’est moi” His shoulders slumped. “Y a un probleme...”

  QBBS Meredith Reynolds

  “And it’s definitely stopped?” Bethany Anne leaned back in her chair and narrowed her eyes at the screen.

  Yes, TOM confirmed. ADAM was able to find satellite footage.

  “And…”

  Yes. And it looks like there may be police inbound.

  “Those shitbrained, trailer-park-reject, sons of a… you know what, TOM? This is what I get for trusting the French.”

  Why are there so many references to people hating France?

  “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, TOM. And this?” Bethany Anne narrowed her eyes. “Blown tire my ass. Someone’s up to something.” She pushed herself up and strode out of the room.

  Where are you going?

  “To find Bobcat. I’m getting a fucking airlift if that’s what it takes, and then? I am reaming those fuckers out for this little trick.”

  She walked down the hallway, her voice reverberating off of the walls, “No one gets away with stealing my shoes.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  Catalonia, Spain

  The private plane bounced as the wheels touched down, and Jennifer was jolted out of her daze.

  She sat up and straightened the borrowed jacket reflexively. She liked to look good, and it had been a constant source of annoyance on the flight that not only was her nice jacket gone, she was wearing a lab coat that didn’t even fit. She sighed. She knew she was only focusing on the lab coat to keep herself from thinking about the mess she’d gotten into.

  Her split-second decision to try to pass herself off as a scientist had landed her here, on Hugo Marcari’s private jet. It was clear that neither Hugo nor Gerard trusted her, but they hadn’t shot her yet, and she was fairly sure they didn’t know she was a Wechselbalg.

  Not only that, her link with ADAM was going to make it easy for the rest of the team to track her to Hugo’s headquarters. It had been a good decision, she told herself.

  But she was also pretty sure that Stephen was g
oing to be furious with her when she got back.

  If she got back.

  No. She wasn’t going to think like that. Jennifer straightened her shoulders and settled back in the seat. She consciously kept herself from looking over her shoulder to see if Gerard was watching her. She’d caught him looking periodically through the flight. He made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

  In a straight fight, she knew she could destroy him—but they were in a plane with two bodyguards, a broken Wechselbalg, and three guns that probably had silver bullets. It was very, very far from being a straight fight.

  She needed to make a plan.

  Jennifer looked out the window as the plane rolled to a stop. The runway appeared to be in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by mountains covered in greenery. The blue sky above had only a few wisps of cloud.

  “ADAM.” She subvocalized as quietly as she could, aware of the chained Wechselbalg only a couple of yards away. “Where am I?”

  >>Catalonia, Spain. Hugo Marcari’s family is from here. As he owns many properties, your presence with him will help us determine which to focus on.<<<br />
  “Good.” Jennifer hesitated. “And, uh… how’s Stephen doing?”

  >>He has made it clear that he was not pleased that I told you I could help with your plan. Other than that, I am not certain.<<<br />
  “Where is he?”

  >>The team is on their way back to the Meredith Reynolds, with the exception of Stoyan, Irina, and Arisha. They stayed to take care of the Wechselbalg that were rescued in Velingrad. They’re on the Archangel, receiving medical treatment. Most of them are expected to make a full recovery.<<<br />
  “Most?” Jennifer swallowed hard. She knew that Stephen hadn’t wanted her to see the inside of the facilities, and in a way, she regretted having gone. The memories of what she had seen were burned into her, and she knew that no matter how long she lived, she was never going to forget the battered bodies or hopeless eyes of the Wechselbalg in Velingrad.

  Her eyes flittered out the window, she was afraid of what she would see in Hugo’s stronghold.

  >>Some of the prisoners appear to be suffering from psychosomatic issues. Although their injuries are healing, their distress is making it difficult for them to recover.<<<br />
  Jennifer looked down at her lap. It was at times like these that she remembered what ADAM was—not a human who could feel pain or despair, but an artificial mind that was still learning about the world. ADAM’s clinical view of the prisoners was chilling.

  >>Jennifer, did I say something wrong?<<<br />
  She had to try to explain it—otherwise, how would he learn? But she didn’t know how to approach this, and the plane was coming to a stop. She looked around as one of the bodyguards came to haul her up. “I can’t talk right now.”

  That was all she could risk saying, for fear that the bodyguard would wonder why her lips were moving. She let herself be pushed roughly along the aisle and into the sunlight, and watched as the rest of the passengers disembarked as well.

  Hsu was brought out after Jennifer. Gerard had taken responsibility for her. One hand squeezed Hsu’s upper arm and he had left her in the handcuffs. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he shoved her so hard that she stumbled over to stand with Jennifer.

  Hsu clenched her hands to keep from crying out, and tried to keep her face emotionless. She was reciting her cover story to herself over and over in her mind: I want to be here, I want to finish my work for Hugo, I am loyal to him, I didn’t run away from Sofia, I am eager to prove myself.

  Such a person wouldn’t fear Hugo or Gerard, because they would be sure that their loyalty and good work would be rewarded.

  With that in mind, Hsu kept her head up and a look of clinical interest on her face as Sergio, the captive Wechselbalg, was forced out of the plane to kneel on the tarmac.

  She knew instinctively that Sergio was important. There had been countless Wechselbalg, both broken and unbroken, in the Velingrad facility, but Hugo’s interest was captured by this one. Something about this man, with his bruises and not-quite-broken eyes, had gotten under Hugo’s skin.

  Where some had broken slowly but surely, others had rebelled enough that Hugo’s scientists killed them, but this one was both defiant and alive. When he was forced to action, the way he capitulated somehow stole any sense of victory Hugo might have felt.

  That was the leverage that Hsu must exploit if this did not end soon. Hugo Marcari liked to think of himself as careful and methodical. He liked to believe that he was a master strategist. But he couldn’t stand it when things didn’t go his way—when people did not treat him as the demigod he believed he was. The more Hsu thought about it, the more she realized she wanted to break Hugo like he had tried to break everyone else.

  It was not enough for his experiments to be ended and the prisoners to be freed. She wanted him beaten down and stripped of every piece of power he had somehow acquired, and... before he died, she wanted him to know that he had failed completely.

  She looked over at ‘Irina,’ the woman who had come in on the helicopter. Their eyes met only for a moment before the scientist was hauled away, but Hsu thought she saw the smallest nod. She could only pray that that meant there were allies on the way.

  —

  “So.” Hugo settled back in his chair. He let his gaze drift over the woman in front of him. He wasn’t stupid. When an absolute knockout miraculously escaped the carnage at Velingrad and managed to jump onto his helicopter, he knew enough to be suspicious.

  He waited, letting the tension stretch, letting her get nervous.

  People were infinitely more pliable when they were nervous. Gerard usually helped with that, but he was busy interrogating the survivor of the Sofia massacre. Another woman. It occurred to Hugo that perhaps the women he hired were simply cleverer than the men—better at hiding, less likely to confront the prisoners if something went wrong. Perhaps they were better able to elicit sympathy. Or, perhaps, it was nothing more than coincidence. Only two scientists appeared to have survived the destruction of his facilities, and it could easily be a fluke that they were both female.

  Or they could both be traitors.

  Hugo’s jaw clenched. This woman did not appear to be uncomfortable with the silence. She was waiting patiently for him to speak, hands folded in front of her and eyes downcast. What was she thinking?

  “So, Dr. Yordan.” He made his voice as harsh as he could. “Hablas Espanol?”

  “Si, senor.” Her voice was soft. She continued in Spanish, somewhat hesitantly. “I speak a little bit.”

  “And you understand me?”

  “Si, senor.” Jennifer tried to keep her expression neutral. In truth, the man’s accent was difficult to understand. “I… think so.”

  >>He’s speaking Catalan,<< ADAM informed her. >>It will probably be more believable for you to keep speaking a more standard dialect, so I will not update your implant.<<<br />
  Thank you, ADAM. Jennifer knew ADAM couldn’t hear her thoughts, but she didn’t dare move her mouth with Hugo watching her like a hawk.

  “Tell me about your research,” he said abruptly.

  ADAM, help.

  Luckily, ADAM was still listening. >>Tell him you studied wolf pack structure and behavior and you’re here to achieve compliance in the prisoners. He’s having trouble maintaining control of them when they’re in wolf form.<<<br />
  “I was brought here to help with the test subjects’ behavior in wolf form.” Jennifer swallowed down her bitterness. “My specialty is wolf behavior and pack structure. Administrator Fedotov told me that there was difficulty enforcing control after the subjects had shifted form.” A surge of inspiration hit her. “I think he was worried that he was failing you, sir.”

  “He was,” Hugo said shortly. He considered this answer for a moment. Fedotov had clearly hidden a great deal of things from him, and Hugo was regretting that the man was now dead. How much else had he concealed? What other progress might have been made?

  �
�What progress did you make, Dr. Yordan?” He was trying to keep his voice harsh, which was not as easy as he had hoped with those pretty blue eyes staring at him. He looked down at the desk as she answered, trying to focus on her words.

  “I had only recently arrived, sir. My research so far was simply to determine the nature of the problem.”

  Hugo noticed that she hesitated slightly before the last word. Interesting. “And what is the nature of the… problem?”

  >>A Wechselbalg will observe different social mandates depending on their form,<< ADAM informed Jennifer. >>Say it like that, use academic language to throw him off.<<<br />
  “A Wechselbalg will observe different social mandates depending on their form,” Jennifer repeated.

  Hugo only stared at her.

  ADAM, come on, give me something else to work with.

  >>In human form, a Wechselbalg is no more or less likely than any other human to resist torture techniques designed to ensure compliance. In wolf form, however, a Wechselbalg will instinctively act upon standing orders from the Alpha, and will be unwilling to take orders from a third party. While there is a shared consciousness, and thus, a shared emotional state between forms, a Wechselbalg will be less likely to be obedient to someone who is not their Alpha while they are in wolf form.<<<br />
  Jennifer repeated the words as quickly as she could while the language implant translated them to Spanish. After a few weeks spent trying to get herself to pronounce Bulgarian and Russian, she kept stumbling over the Spanish. She hoped that made things more believable, not less. Still, it was a disorienting act to play, and she was beginning to wonder how long she would be able to keep her cover.