Chameleon

Chapter 10

Chameleon's file lay open on Warlord's desk. He didn't look at it. He knew it word for word. It had been Warlord who had been in charge of the experiment that had spawned Chameleon. Warlord who had nurtured him, supervised his training and secured the perfect field controller to ensure that Chameleon performed with optimum efficiency. The so-called experts had never truly been able to define exactly what Chameleon's powers were. One particularly earnest young doctor had opined that Chameleon was '...a genetic anomaly with an unstable DNA structure that reacted to adrenal surges as a defence mechanism in much the same way as a chameleon lizard will change the colour of its skin in order to blend in with the background...'

Apart from providing the designated code name for this most unique operative, it was all gobbledegook, of course. In plain English, Chameleon was a shape changer. The man could actually manipulate the muscles and bones of his body at will; could make them assume any shape he chose, even the length and colour of his hair. He could even change sex. It always gave Warlord an unholy thrill to watch Chameleon change from a man to a woman. This lack of permanent gender identity had led his doctors to the conclusion that Chameleon was sterile. Not that that stopped them from trying to breed from him. In fact, they'd been in the process of exhaustive experiments to achieve that end when Chameleon had decided to go AWOL. Laboratory tests and artificial insemination had all proved futile, and so they had moved on to live subjects. Prurient interest vied with scientific detachment as a string of willing young women were provided for Chameleon to copulate with, all under the watchful eye of the video camera and a cheering gallery of dedicated scientists.

Warlord was dismissive of their methods and motives. He didn't care whether Chameleon was sterile or not. All he cared about was getting him back into the field as quickly as possible. Now, of course, that might not be possible. Chameleon had always been the most malleable of operatives, his curious elasticity of body mirrored by a mind that could be programmed in much the same way as you would programme a computer. His eventual reluctance to co-operate had been unusual and annoying; now it was a potential nightmare.

Warlord slammed the file shut, closing the door on his reverie, and focused his attention on Christina Laker. She sat, patient but tense, returning his gaze levelly, anxious to be gone, to be out there doing her job. It had been three days since the "Pierce Incident", as it was referred to, and each successive day that passed made Christina's job that much harder. She was an extremely effective Case Officer, that's why Warlord had chosen her above many more obvious contenders. He made a point of always choosing his key operatives personally. Christina, Payne, Chameleon, they were all his protégés. It hurt now to have to set them upon each other, but the options were limited.

'Sammy Pierce was a low-life little shite,' Warlord declared. Christina remained silent, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. 'I take it,' Warlord continued, 'that measures have been taken to ensure he troubles us no more in death as he did in life?'

Christina nodded. 'The official story is a fire, due to faulty equipment. Pierce and Sadler perished in the course of their duty and appropriate compensation will be paid to any dependants.'

'And their playmate?'

'She was a working girl. They move on all the time. She won't be missed.'

Warlord considered for a moment. 'Good,' he said. 'What are the chances of Chameleon going public?'

'That's unlikely, sir.'

'But not impossible?'

'Nothing is impossible, sir, but it's highly improbable.'