Project Maigo Read Online Free PDF Page A

gazing out your window at buildings, smog, a congested port and an ocean cluttered with cargo ships.
    Most of which are now half sunk.
    The port is in ruins.
    Thousands of massive shipping containers are strewn about like torn open Christmas presents, except that each of these gifts weighs several tons. And they’ve been tossed about so casually, there is no doubt, something of stunning strength put a whooping on this port.
    “I know,” Collins says. “Early estimates put the dead and missing at three hundred twenty.”
    I wipe my arm across my sweat-slicked forehead. It’s hotter and far more humid than it had been on the Ute reservation. To make matters worse, I can practically feel the smog clinging to the wet air, caking me in filth. And since I didn’t get to take a bath before our flight... Well, let’s just say that I’m riper than a peach left too long in the sun. At least Hawkins came through with the calamine lotion. He let me keep it and a bottle of anti-itch spray. “That’s not what I meant.”
    She glances at me. Doesn’t need to ask. She knows I’ll fill her in.
    “If this were Nemesis, it would be worse.”
    “Worse? But—”
    “Boston worse. Or Beverly. Or even Portland.” Nemesis very nearly wiped Boston off the map. She decimated Beverly harbor. And when she hit Portland, she was only half grown, yet she still left a path of destruction in her wake that dwarfed what I’m looking at. A ruined container catches my eyes. “Look. See the gouges?”
    The wounds in the thick metal are ominous. Powerful. Three claws have peeled through the metal like it was little more than paper.
    Collins sees it. “Shit. You’re right.”
    “Maigo’s—Nemesis’s claws wouldn’t just slice through one of those containers, they’d obliterate it. The destruction here is just too small in scale.”
    “But what about the human trafficking ring that was hit?” Collins asked. “All of the clients were killed, not to mention the ringleader. That’s a lot of very bad guys. It fits Nemesis’s M.O. of doling out justice.”
    I nod. She’s right about that. And other than Nemesis, nothing else I’m aware of is capable of this. Aware of is the key phrase. “There’s something more going on here. What if we were supposed to blame Nemesis for this mess.”
    “Please don’t tell me you think someone is setting up Nemesis.” Her voice oozes with doubt.
    “You saw the news on our way here. There isn’t any doubt in the world’s eyes that this was Nemesis.”
    Collins purses her lips. I can see she wants to believe me, but she’s struggling. In part, because the evidence is damning, but also because my belief that Nemesis isn’t entirely bad irks her. Not enough to create a divide between us, but certainly enough for her to cast doubt on my judgment of the beast. Which I appreciate. People who aren’t held accountable tend to make really poor choices. But this time, I have support.
    “He’s right,” a voice says from behind.
    We both turn to find the silhouette of a woman. The day is overcast and a brown-tinged haze fills the air, but it’s by no means dark. Yet this woman has found the perfect spot between two shipping containers to cloak herself in shadow. I squint, trying to see through the gloom, but she’s dressed in black. The only color I can see is her blonde hair, which hangs over her face. She doesn’t want to be seen.
    “Who are you?” I ask.
    “Can’t tell you that,” she says. Her voice is confident. American. “But you hitched a ride on my plane.”
    That’s all I needed to know. The plane that brought us here—some kind of classified stealth transport—is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. The special-ops group it belongs to has got to be the best of the best. And apparently, this woman is one of them.
    “How is he right?” Collins asks, all business.
    “This wasn’t your monster,” she says.
    I’m not sure I’m comfortable with her emphasis on the word your ,