Son of Cerberus (The Unusual Operations Division Book 2) Read Free

tried to contact them again?” Germaine knew the answer. Frank was still employed with the company because he had averted more than one disaster, not because someone thought he was good looking.
    “Yes,” Frank said. A hint of desperation tinted his voice. “I’ve contacted the port authority, too, and no one is supposed to be coming in tonight at all. It’s this damned fog and a damaged ship, I’m telling you.”
    “Okay,” Germaine said, turning his golf cart onto the dock’s long walkway. “I’ll try and get their attention, but you had better contact the Coast Guard and the local authorities in case these guys are drunk or something.”
    “Already done, Germaine.” Frank sounded angry. “Thanks for the help, buddy, but why don’t you just stick to your job and I’ll stick to mine?”
    Germaine didn’t feel the need to respond. He had pulled up to the end of the dock anyhow and was collecting the air horn and the high-powered flashlight off the seat next to him. The asshole on the other end of the radio could sit there and wonder how the next few minutes would go as punishment for being rude. As far as Germaine was concerned, the guy was off his rocker anyway. Regardless, he had a job to do that didn’t require him thinking about what type of drug Frank was on that made him so moody.
    The cold air whipped past Germaine as he got as close to the end of the tire-lined dock as he could. The concrete piers dropped ten feet into the churning soup and each small wave caused a spray of water that chilled him to the bone. It was nearly impossible to see anything with the dense fog and utter darkness, but Germaine had to try and avert the impending disaster. He stopped just a foot from the end of the dock, plugged his ears as best he could, and laid on the air horn in loud resounding bursts.
    It was out of air after three such bursts, but Germaine could hear the horn echoing through the dark fog for many seconds. He discarded the used air horn and pulled the spotlight from beneath his arm. The thing was blindingly bright but he doubted it made it ten feet into this god-forsaken fog. Regardless, Germaine did the only thing he could and shined the flashlight out into the darkness toward the oncoming ship.
    Suddenly, Germaine realized something. Though he could hear the distant hum of machinery and the whipping of the wind over the water, the dock was strangely quiet. If some ship was motoring madly into port, regardless of its size, he should have been able to hear it. Either this thing was stealthy quiet, or, and this was much more likely, Frank had been messing with him.
    Germaine waited patiently for another ten seconds before flicking the flashlight off and turning around. He had already been freezing to death in this abominable weather and now he was suffering even more from standing on the end of a dock. If Frank had been messing with him, Germaine swore he would march up there and rip him out of that surveillance shack before beating him half to death.
    He gritted his teeth as he walked back to his transport. With shaky hands, he reached across the seat of the golf cart and snatched the two-way radio. Even the radio had a thin layer of moisture over it because of the misty fog, rain, and splashing ocean. Germaine cursed Frank as he wiped water from the durable electronic device.
    Trying and failing to keep his temper in check, he made ready to call his counterpart. It would be the tongue lashing of the century if this guy was messing around. Germaine hated being the brunt of anyone’s joke.
    The familiar sound of water slapping against fiberglass caught his ear. There had been a ship coming in after all, yet he still couldn’t hear the engines. What he could hear made his blood freeze. The sound of some haunting melody, and the frightening scream of what sounded like someone being tortured floated in along the whipping wind. The high-voice of an old-time artist sounded scary as hell in the dark of the