"I think I agree with that," Bill's forehead creased in thought as he considered our options. "Is there a way to get the others out so they won't be seen?"
"Yes," Zaria and I said together.
"I hate military jets," I complained as Zaria buckled in two seats down. Winkler had plunked into the seat between us with a proprietary snort and sat there like he'd just taken charge of the entire operation.
He wasn't pleased about being hunted again for the software he'd created, and he wanted to deal with the situation immediately.
I worried that it wouldn't be nearly as easy as luring vampire Baikov into a trap and offing him along with his head. Ilya and Charles were coming with us; Dalroy and Rhett stayed behind to protect the others at Winkler's Port Aransas beach house.
Zaria and I transported them there; I'd laid compulsion on Kellee to mind her manners and stay in the house until the whole thing was over, unless Winkler said it was all right to go out. It was for her own safety, and Winkler asked me to do it.
Things were changing every second in the timeline, and we didn't need Kellee fucking things up more than they already were.
Somewhere on Refizan in the current time, Dragon and I were killing Ra'Ak spawn. Where I was, things could become much worse than that. Zaria, upon occasion, would wear a worried frown, and that troubled me more than anything.
She knew a great deal about timelines and how they could go from snarled to totally fucked up if somebody didn't intervene to set them on the right track again. We hadn't drilled down to that conversation, yet. A part of me was glad, or I'd have even more trouble sleeping.
We landed at Joint Base Andrews around three in the morning, local time. Winkler and Trajan had gotten some sleep on the way; Ilya and Charles had stayed awake and had quiet conversation during most of the trip.
I tuned them out after a while; Charles certainly wouldn't tell him anything he didn't need to know, or that couldn't be erased by compulsion later.
"I have rooms in a hotel not far from the hill for all of you," Bill said as we gathered our things and deplaned. Two black SUVs waited to carry us and our luggage to the designated address.
"Lissa, will you and Zaria ride with me?" Bill asked. Winkler frowned, because he wanted me with him.
Instead, Winkler, Trajan and Charles rode in the second vehicle, while Ilya joined us and rode with Bill. "I'll set up meetings tomorrow evening, if that's convenient for you," Bill told me as the vehicle pulled away from the jet.
"Bill, you can set something up earlier, if that's better for everyone," Zaria said. "I can see to it that Lissa is awake and protected."
"I really don't understand how you can do that," Bill said, shaking his head. "But if you can, then I can put something together for early afternoon."
"That sounds good," I told him. "It'll keep Baikov away from us during that time—and any other vampire he thinks to send after us. We can deal with werewolves easy enough—and humans, too, if it comes to that."
"Good. After we question the people involved in this, I hope we have a clearer picture of whom to hunt," Bill agreed. "I'd like to get on that fast, before they figure out we know anything. I'll set up a meeting with the President, too, but that could be short and sweet after the initial interviews are over."
"Whatever you need, Bill," I shrugged. "We'll be right behind you every step of the way. Just make sure this is kept secret, and no photos get out."
"I'll see to it."
I'll see to it, too, Zaria sent to me. Not only did she want to protect us, but Ilya, Winkler and the others as well. I wanted what she wanted, and would add my shields and protections to hers.
The hotel was a nice one; apparently the State Department used it frequently, and Bill had made arrangements to use their account to put us up. Zaria didn't have a problem with it, so I figured we wouldn't be outed by anyone involved.
I also wondered how far behind us Baikov was, and if he were already in D.C. Since neither Zaria nor I could find him by Looking, we could only guess at how long it would take for him to follow our trail.
Is there any way we can track somebody dressed in Sirenali bone dust? I sent to Zaria.
I have someone working on that. If they come up with anything, I'll know and pull in the process to help us in the here and now. We don't need more of this shit to deal with in the future-past. And, if there's a live Sirenali passing his blood to others to produce more Sirenali bones, then we have to find him or her, too, and dispatch them.
Huh? This was something new to me.
V'ili was doing the same thing, almost—he'd cloned many Sirenali from himself, plus, a few humanoids were given the Lyristolyi drug to create more Sirenali to clone. Then, all those Sirenali clones were rendered mute and sold to criminal factions all over the Alliances. After years of making clones of other clones, the process broke down and past that point, most of them were born sick. That's when they started allowing them to die, or began killing them outright to provide bones and bone dust to hide stolen goods and such. Much of Cayetes' wealth was provided by that cottage industry, if you can call it that.
Oh. Now I understand.
I did—and it terrified me. Do we need to narrow down his bloodline? This Sirenali's? I asked.
Good guess—yes, we do. If we find Baikov, I'm hoping we can extract bone dust from what he's wearing and reverse-engineer this. The trouble is, of course, that we may not have enough time to do all that. And, if there's more than one Sirenali, we may be screwed anyway.
Damn.
Agreed.
When we pulled into the hotel driveway, my mind was whirling with the problems we were facing. Are we going to be able to sleep? I asked Zaria.
I intend to ask Valegar to help, she sighed. We can't fight off the Cossack horde without rest.
Well, you're right. Will you ask Valegar to contact Connegar for me?
Already done.
Bill
I knew Lissa could mindspeak. Zaria evidently could, too. They'd held a private conversation between them on the way to the hotel. A part of me wanted to participate. Another was afraid to be involved in it.
I decided if they wanted me to know, they'd tell me and let my curiosity go. "I'll be staying here, too," I said as we stepped out of the vehicle and pulled back to allow a hotel employee to load our bags onto a cart.
"Bill, have I told you lately how awesome you are?" Lissa smiled at me.
"Why, no. Feel free to say it as often as you want."
"You're awesome, too," Zaria patted Ilya's arm. Maybe he felt left out, even if he never moved a facial muscle to indicate it. Damn, he was a good spy.
I knew who he was, even with the disguise. This was the famed Russian spy that we'd nicknamed the Blacksmith. I didn't say anything because Lissa and Zaria trusted him in this and frankly, he was on our side against the Baikovs.
We could return to our opposing sides after this, but for now, the enemy of my enemy was definitely my friend, and he had inside intel that I didn't.
"Order room service if you're hungry," I told the others. "I'm having a snack while I make a few calls."
Lissa
Zaria knocked on my door two minutes after I dressed in my pajamas. "I have warning shields around both people Bill wants to question," she said. "In case Baikov decides to have them offed before we can get to them."
"Good idea," I said. "Do you need any help with that?"
"No. I suppose Baikov's too slick to go himself—that would make things really easy for us."
"From what I've seen so far, he doesn't like to get his claws dirty."
"You've danced with him, so you know what he looks like," Zaria pointed out. "I think we can resurrect that memory and give Bill something to send through that awesome software Winkler designed."
"Um, can we isolate those images? I doubt Wlodek's current self would appreciate anybody outing vampires from the Annual Meeting."
"Don't worry. We can do anything you'd like with the final product."
/>
"What do I need to do?" I asked.
"Just think about that night. I'll see it in you and can recreate it on this." She held up a thumb drive. "It'll look like you were wearing a camera while you danced, that's all, because that's how it will appear to me, initially."
"Initially?"
"I can extrapolate from your memories," she shrugged. "I could probably put the entire ballroom scene together if I wanted—it's like stitching images together from your peripheral vision. I don't need to do that."
"Maybe I'd like to see that sometime," I said. "It would be nice to get clear details from that night—I remember being terrified during most of it and wasn't paying attention to minutiae."
"Then I'll commit it to memory and give it to you later," she smiled. Her smile was a tired one, as was the one I returned to her.
"There. All done," she said, handing the thumb drive to me. "Give that to Bill later. I'm off to get some sleep."
Instead of walking out the door, she folded space.
"My love?" Connegar now stood in her place.
"Honey, I am so happy to see you," I told him as he lifted me in his arms. I stroked back a lock of his hair before leaning my head on his shoulder.
"Come, then," he murmured. "We will bend time and you will sleep."
Ilya
I didn't even jerk when Zaria's hand covered my mouth, waking me. "Someone is about to attack the Chief of Staff," she whispered. "Do you wish to come with me?"
"Of course," I said, not bothering to hide my native accent.
"Good."
"Let me get dressed," I flung back covers. I only wore boxer shorts and now had an erection, thanks to Zaria's nearness.
"No time," she said. The glow about her was swift before it disappeared, and suddenly I was fully dressed.
"Your weapon," she handed a nine-millimeter pistol to me and then flung both of us to an unknown location. We were just in time to jerk a terrified man away from a window before bullets sprayed through it.
"Those are just the warning shots," I hissed in Steven Gorham's ear as I dragged him farther into the room. "There are others in the house already."
"What?"
In the dim light, his eyes were wide with fear. "This is the price you pay for selling out your own government," I admonished.
Near his bedroom door, Zaria had positioned herself, waiting for those in the house to come bursting in, bullets flying. The Capitol Police guards, stationed outside, were already dead, although more were on the way.
One of them coming up the stairs is vampire, Zaria's words sounded in my head.
"I hope you can take care of that one, then," I said softly.
"Huh?" Gorham couldn't help himself.
"They sent a vampire to destroy you, did you know that?" I shook him by his collar. "I should let him have you."
Gorham's legs buckled beneath him—he knew what he was up against, now.
I'll let them in, Zaria said. You shoot the two werewolves. I'll deal with the vampire.
"On it," I replied.
The door blew open—no doubt the vampire's work. I was forced to ignore the vampire's disappearance in a flurry of winking sparks, so I could shoot the two werewolves in the head who trailed behind him.
Zaria
Steven Gorham, about-to-be-former Chief of Staff, spent the rest of the night at our hotel, handcuffed to a bed while some of Bill's trusted agents guarded him.
The crime scene was still crawling with Capitol Police. Good thing I'd staged the scene so it looked as if one of the dead officers had been inside the room protecting Gorham, while the attackers tried to kill both of them.
In the officer's case, they were successful, along with killing three fellow officers stationed outside the residence.
The story was that Gorham called Bill, and that Bill went to get him after the attempt on his life. Lissa's compulsion was needed for that, and nobody knew Gorham was in handcuffs inside his hotel room.
"Did you get any sleep?" Lissa walked up with two lattes in her hands. She gave one to me. "Not much, I'm afraid," I confessed, sipping the latte. "Damn, that's good," I said and thanked her for the drink.
Ilya in the clear? she asked.
Yeah. I changed bullets to make it look like they came from the dead officer's gun.
Brilliant.
Desperate is more like it.
"Ladies," Ilya walked up, a cup of black coffee in his hands.
"Nice work last night," Lissa told him with a grin.
"Eh," he shrugged.
"I'm surprised they didn't go after the assistant," Lissa said softly.
"The same crew was supposed to do just that. We sort of interrupted their plans. I figure when Baikov wakes tonight, he'll be so pissed he'll destroy something."
"Perhaps that's why his distant relative, the General, has a volatile temper, too," Ilya suggested.
"I imagine he inherited it," I agreed and sipped more of my latte. "Lissa has images of the vampire version," I added. "You can probably view those with Bill later."
"Good. I'll compare the human version with that one. Human Baikov hates being photographed, but I know what he looks like well enough."
"We're counting on that," Lissa nodded. "Bill needs the info."
"In this, I am happy to oblige. If you could help eliminate the Klyki, I would be eternally grateful. Too many Russians and Ukrainians are dying at their hands."
"We'll be happy to honor that request," I patted his shoulder. "But only because you asked."
"You tease me," he grinned.
"Honey, we're just getting started," I smiled at him.
Lissa stifled a snicker.
Lissa
"I thought daylight wasn't an option for you," the President smiled at me.
"It isn't. This is Zaria's talent," I told him.
"Bill said as much. I wasn't sure whether to believe him." He winked at Bill, who stood behind me in the oval office.
"Well, then, shall we see what my Chief of Staff and his assistant has been up to?" His face darkened at those words—Bill already told him that Gorham had sold us out on Winkler's software.
Winkler, Trajan, Ilya and Zaria were in a room nearby, waiting on us to finish our preliminary conversation with the President. They'd join us for the questioning, which Bill and the Joint Chiefs intended to do.
I'd already placed compulsion on both to answer truthfully, so we'd get to the bottom of this quickly.
At least they hadn't been obsessed; Zaria confirmed that with a relieved sigh. If they'd had obsessions laid, we wouldn't get anything from them.
That led me to believe that the Russians only had one actual Sirenali who could lay obsession. Zaria thought the same; if they had others, there would be someone already in the U.S. laying obsessions left and right.
That didn't mean they weren't reproducing more Sirenali with the aid of the drug, and then killing them for the bones or bone dust, just as Zaria feared.
We walked out of the oval office and were joined shortly by the others. An aide led us toward a conference room, where the Joint Chiefs waited for the questioning to start.
Ilya, are there people disappearing in Russia without explanation? I sent to him as we walked through the White House.
"All the time," he leaned in to answer. "Nothing unusual about that."
"Damn," I said aloud. I was hoping we could pinpoint the source of some particular bone dust, I added in mindspeech.
"Then you should look at prisons, orphanages and hospitals for the mentally ill—people vanish from them all the time."
I'll revisit that topic later, when we're in a more secure place, I sent.
He smothered a laugh. We were in the White House, which was supposed to be very secure. With the Chief of Staff's recent peccadillos, that wasn't completely true.
Winkler couldn't help growling at Steven Gorham as we were offered comfortable chairs on one side of a long table. The President sat at the head and waited until everyone was sea
ted before turning the Joint Chiefs loose on Gorham and his assistant.
"How much did they pay you?" The Secretary of the Navy demanded of Gorham. Gorham had been sweating during an hour of heavy questioning. His assistant, a younger man who wanted a career in politics, sat beside him, his eyes wide, like a deer's in bright headlights.
"Six million," Gorham confessed unwillingly.
"You could have held out for more," the Army Secretary half-joked. He, like the others, couldn't believe what they were hearing. The Russians had attempted to take the software, and when they couldn't hack it, they'd gone looking for its creator, to take him or her instead.
According to Gorham, they already suspected it was Winkler's software, but they wanted confirmation. He'd handed it to them without a qualm.
Winkler's fingers gripped mine under the table—he'd made sure to sit next to me.
"Did you think you wouldn't get caught?" the President demanded.
"I was assured of it."
"Because they were planning to kill you before you could say anything, you ignorant twat," Zaria snapped at him.
No, she wasn't supposed to speak at the meeting. Nobody chastised her; instead, most of them chuckled as Gorham shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
"I need to go to the restroom and get a drink," he whined.
"Very well. We'll take fifteen," the President waved a hand.
We filed out of the meeting; I wanted more coffee. The same held for the rest of our party—we headed for a nearby room that held a coffee urn, bottled water and various pastries.
Zaria's head lifted as she pulled a paper cup from an available stack.
Shields up, she told me and held the cup under the spigot to get coffee.
I have no idea who'd walked into the place with a hidden bomb earlier, but it detonated in the men's restroom while guards stood outside, waiting for Gorham and his assistant to take a piss.
"They knew, somehow, that we hadn't gotten to the question of whether he'd seen any of his collaborators, and we hadn't spoken to the assistant at all, yet," the President grumbled.
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