The voice on the other end was cold, clipped, and belonged to his handler, a ghost named Nair. “Maverick, we have a Code Ashoka. A splinter cell of the Serpent’s Hand has seized the International Genetics Institute in Geneva. They’ve locked down the cryo-vault containing the Alpha Strain.”
Fenris roared and raised his dead-man’s switch. “The cure dies with me!”
“I’m a bioinformatician,” he whispered to a trembling woman. “Play along.”
“One hundred and twelve civilians. Eight security personnel, KIA. Their leader is a ghost from your past. Code name: Fenris.”
“Brother!” Fenris’s voice boomed as his eyes locked onto Maverick. “I knew you’d come. Take off that coat. Let them see the wolf.”
“Hostage count?” Maverick asked, loading his signature modified sidearm—a gun that fired smart-darts laced with a neural paralytic.
“You were always the sentimental one, Arjun. You think I’d let you get close enough to save them?”