“Far be it from me to tell you how to run your business, but if you think a leopard can change his spots in a few short months… so be it.”
“I am not so old that I have forgotten the dangers of naiveté. Nor have I forgotten how manipulative Paul can be.” Rufus took his chair again and sat back, cradling his cognac. “Let’s just say that my desire to salvage what little humanity there may be in him outweighs my desire to see justice done.”
“You’re the boss.” Jack picked up the Geneva reports. “What do you want me to do about these?”
Rufus considered the reports for a moment then sat forward. “Go ahead and prepare a strike plan.” His eyes met Jack’s. “Just in case.”
*****
“Little John, check your six,” an operator whispered through the ear piece. John Sullivan, ex-Delta Force operator, rolled to his side and peered over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the darkening horizon, his ears straining for any unusual sound.
“All clear, Bravo Three. Proceed to tango.” Sullivan whispered into his throat mic. Through the high powered scope on his sniper rifle, Sullivan had a clear view of the advance team as they approached an abandoned building along a deserted stretch of railway. He watched the operators jump over the gravel and land on the rail ties to prevent any sound of their approach. “Still no activity, you’re clear.”
“Bravo Six, be advised that the Predator is in the wind. Repeat, the Predator is in the wind,” the operations officer announced from the AC-130 making high altitude circles over the site. “ETA, three minutes.”
Sullivan felt the corners of his mouth curl into a smile. “Copy that, OPCOM.” Keying to the team’s frequency, he relayed the message, “Air support in three minutes. Time to kick over the hornet’s nest, boys.”
“Roger that, Six,” Apollo replied. “All weapons hot.”
From Sullivan’s vantage point, he could watch as the team advanced, weapons ready, and formed a semi-circle around the metal building. He watched a member run up alongside the building and toss something through a window. “Grenade,” was announced through his earpiece just before his eyes saw the blue white glow of the UV explosive flash through every pore of the building.
Members rushed the building, and the staccato of automatic weapons fire filled the evening air as the team advanced and entered the building. Little John zoomed out slightly to get a bigger picture of the battle and observed movement on the roof. Zooming in and placing the reticle on a figure standing alongside an ancient air conditioning unit, he sent a single silver projectile towards the startled figure. In a moment, the figure was engulfed in flames and falling to the ground, and Little John’s eyes were scanning the scene for any other would be escapees.
“Six, we have a runner!” Bravo Three announced. Little John leaned slightly forward, scanning the area with the scope. “Out the back!”
John grunted as he realized the building itself was blocking his shot. The runner would be another hundred yards away before he even came into visual. He adjusted his scope and settled in, scanning the top of the roof for the runner to appear. “He’s cut north…between the rail cars,” Bravo Three announced.
“Shit.” John shifted on his perch and began scanning along the handful of abandoned rail cars. His eyes barely picked up the shadow of movement on the other side of the cars as somebody bolted for freedom. His eyes scanned further along the cars and found one with both side doors open. He settled in ahead of the runner and zeroed in his scope. Allowing for lead time, he judged his shot and took it. He didn’t actually see his target, but he tracked the shadow under the rail cars and fought a grin as the runner burst into flames on the other side.
“Runner subdued,” he announced quietly as he settled his scope back on the building and began scanning the area again. The faint whirring of the Predator circling the scene came to his ears and he risked a glance up. He could barely see the white speck as it circled the area.
Slowly, the gunfire came to a stop, and Apollo announced a ‘stand down’. Little John slung his rifle and began to descend the tower he had used as an overwatch station. As his feet touched the ground, he heard Apollo call for the clean-up crews, and he watched as the team began exiting the building.
“Easy peasy.” Wallace was wiping something from the blade of his knife as he stepped away from the building. “They never knew what hit ‘em.”
Popo leaned against a pole supporting the overhang and made the sign of the cross over his chest, his face ashen. Little John nodded to him, “What’s wrong?”
Popo’s eyes appeared haunted when he met John’s gaze. “They had kids in there.”
John’s brow twisted in confusion. “Kids? I didn’t think that vamps could…”
“No, man. They were feeding on them.”
Apollo stepped out and squared his chest. “The area’s secure. Clean-up crews are on their way. Set up a perimeter for security until they’re done.”
John watched as the other operators broke loose and began working their way out to form a security boundary around the site. “Want me back on the tower?” He shifted his rifle and was prepared to get as far from the site as possible.
Apollo shook his head. “Naw, we got the drone to be an eye in the sky.” He gripped John’s massive shoulder, “You’re with me.” He led the big man into the building, and John felt his guts begin to twist as the smell of spent gunpowder, blood, shit, and ash all hit him at once. Apollo waved his hand across the scene of the massacre. “You’ve been spending most of your time as our overwatch. You’re a hell of a sniper, but this…” he motioned toward the mess again, “this is the shit.”
“Yeah, I can smell it.”
“No, man, I mean, this is the reason why we do what we do.” Apollo stepped over a burnt body and practically dragged Little John with him. “See this over here? This blue-black looking piece of crap? This is what silver does to a bloodsucker. Not like those fancy UV sniper rounds you got.” Apollo pointed out another. “That crispy mutha there? That’s what the UV grenade does.” He kicked at the body with his boot, and John watched as ash crumbled away from it.
“I went through the training, remember?” John tried to keep his voice passive, hoping that Apollo would accept it and let him out before he stumbled upon the kids they were eating.
“Training ain’t the same thing as seeing it with your own eyes, Little John. It ain’t the same as smelling it.” He smacked his lips and spat on the ground. “Tasting it.”
“Point taken.” John was no stranger to death. He wasn’t a stranger to hideous deaths either. But he had to admit, these creatures that he now hunted and killed were somehow different. Perhaps because they were once Americans? He couldn’t put his finger on exactly how it was different; it just was.
“This ain’t the same as the sandbox. The next snack these guys decide to grab might be somebody you know.”
“That’s why I signed up, remember?” John was trying really hard to remain passive. Cold. Unfeeling. He hoped his voice didn’t betray him.
Apollo stared at him a moment and tried to get a read on him. “You won’t be sitting overwatch forever. I need to know you can handle it in the thick.”
John shifted his rifle and stared back. “Whenever you’re ready to put me on point, boss, just let me know.”
Apollo stared at him a moment longer, then broke into a toothy grin. “I’ll give this much, you ain’t asked if I grilled the other rookies like I be grilling you.”
“I figured you did. Otherwise how would you know what they’re made of, right?” John avoided his gaze and glanced around at the carnage.
“All three of the other newbies asked me if I treated the others like they just graduated boot, not you.” Apollo smiled at him again. “You need to understand, though. It’s not about busting your balls. It’s about knowing strengths and weaknesses. I need to know who to put on which teams. Trust me, man, I can’t screw up and put the wrong people together to make a team. Not every weakness is a we
akness, and not every strength is a strength.”
“What, are you Buddha now?” John gave him a sardonic smile.
“Naw, man, I just need you to understand,” he leaned in close and whispered, “don’t play me.” John shot him a questioning look in return. “‘Cuz playing me can do more than get you hurt. It can get your entire team killed.”
*****
Paul Foster lay huddled in the dark recesses of his room contemplating his circumstances. He should have known that entering into a blood oath with his adopted brother would be his undoing, but at the time he saw no other choice. Rufus had always been the ‘honorable’ one. He had always been a stickler for rules. It was always Paul that found ways around them. He always found a way to either bend the rules until they threatened to break, or he broke them and blamed someone else. He never dreamed that his brother would get the upper hand on him. Yet, here he sat, cursed to forever be a goat sucker or face the true death for breaking the covenant they shared.
Paul felt his body shrivel as it begged for blood, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to drink any more of the garbage that they drained from the farm animals. He stared at the goblet of…something. Whatever it was had already begun to congeal and the odor was obnoxious. He so wanted to stray. One lowly hooker. A homeless person. An illegal immigrant. Nobody would know…ah, but his brother would. He would be able to sense it and that would be the end of poor Paul.
He had prostrated himself before his brother, shifted all of his power and people to Rufus’ command and here he sat, bound by a damned technicality; ‘To be dissolved upon common agreement or upon the vanquishing of the common threat to mankind.’ How was he supposed to know that Thorn would consider any vampire who fed upon humans as a ‘threat’ to mankind? He groaned low in his throat and slapped at the goblet, sending it across the room, its contents splattering to the floor.
“My kingdom for a thick, juicy harlot.”
“You have no kingdom,” a sultry voice purred next to him. “You traded it to your brother to save your skinny ass.” Her soft chuckle reminded him of the joke he had made of himself. If it weren’t for the power her family held, he’d have ripped her head off and sent her remains to the sewers; if he still had the strength.
“A slight setback, my dear.” Paul was determined to regain his wealth and power. He just had to figure out a way. “My brother isn’t completely out of the woods yet.” Paul continually reminded himself that the Council still wanted Rufus’ head for his father’s death.
The leggy, blonde vampire next to him stretched and pulled the sheet from his body. “You’d better do something soon. It won’t be long and you won’t have the strength to fight me off, much less him.” She giggled and nipped at his thigh.
Paul rolled his eyes at her playful attempts. Sex was the last thing on his mind. He could barely choke down the swill that his brother allowed them to eat, and nothing killed the libido like having horse breath. “In due time, sweetness, in due time.” He patted her bottom and pulled the sheet back up. “What I have planned won’t take much effort on my part anyway.”
She propped herself on an elbow and stared at him. “What do you mean? You Plan to hire an outside contractor?” Her evil smile and devilish demeanor toyed with the idea of running to Thorn and tattling.
“Hardly.” He rolled over and twisted her nipple in his fingers painfully. “My brother still has a death mark on his head from the Vampire Council. They may be rebuilding after that fiasco in the desert, but they’re still out there. And they don’t forget things like that.”
2
Jericho Jones stuck his head inside Tufo’s office, “Major, Team One, is back.”
Mark looked up from the training records and nodded. “Have them debriefed, and I need the report ASAP.”
“Right away, sir.” Jones disappeared just as a shadow crossed the doorway and the oversized team leader for Team One knocked on the door.
Tufo looked up and felt a sudden urge to scream. If Apollo came to him first, something went wrong on the op. “Report.”
Apollo shook his head, “Nothing to report, sir,” he stepped into Mark’s office and stood at parade rest, “other than a successful mission.”
Mark studied him a moment then waved him on. “Then why aren’t you debriefing with your operations officer and getting your report ready for me?”
“I, uh…wanted to speak privately with you, sir. About the new guys.”
Mark closed the training reports and leaned back in his chair. “Problems?”
“Negative, sir. I mean nothing I can put my finger on.” Apollo glanced off to the side and seemed to be searching for the right words.
“Spit it out, Apollo. We don’t have all day.”
“Permission to speak freely, sir?”
Mark nodded. “Of course.”
“I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something about Little John. Either the guy is just a stone cold killer or…”
“Or?”
“Or the guy is trying to pull a fast one on me. I mean, it seems like nothing fazes the guy. No matter what I throw at him, he’s a stone wall.”
“And this is a bad thing because…”
“Because people just ain’t wired like that, boss.” Apollo shrugged. “See, I knew I couldn’t explain it. Call it a gut feeling.”
Mark pushed away from his desk. “Look, Apollo, I understand if you’re just a bit worried about placing the new guys on the teams. But it’s not like you’re personally responsible. You make the recommendations, and then it’s up to me to make the decision.”
“No, sir, it’s not that.”
“Then I guess I’m not seeing the problem.” Mark sat up from his chair and took to his feet. “The way I see it, the man was recruited, he gave informed consent to be augmented, he’s gone through the training, and now you have reservations because he’s a little too…what? Detached?”
Apollo thought a moment then nodded. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
Mark stepped around the desk and approached the larger man. “Do you remember how long it took you to come around after Maria’s death?” As soon as he asked the question, he saw the man visibly stiffen. Mark feared that Maria’s death was still a raw nerve with Apollo, but it was his only avenue.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Apollo’s voice was defensive and edged on menacing.
“I’m just asking you, do you remember how long it took you before you allowed yourself to ‘feel’ anything again?”
Apollo’s shoulders slumped as he thought back to the toughest four months of his life. “I remember.”
“Some people put up these…I dunno…walls, I guess. They’re a defense to help protect what’s left of their sanity.” He patted the large man’s shoulder. “Have you considered that perhaps Sully has just seen too much or been through too much and his behavior is a defensive move?”
“So I should think outside the box?”
“Think wherever the hell you want, big guy, you’re the team leader. I’m just throwing out ideas.”
Apollo turned to leave. “Guess I got a debriefing to get to.”
“Look forward to reading the report.” Mark patted his back as he stepped out of the office. He watched the large man round the corner before he shut the door to his office again. “Psycho-babble bullshit might have actually come in handy once.”
*****
Robert Mueller ran along the wet beach, all cares and worries gone from his mind as he pushed himself to run faster through the soft white sand. Although he could feel the sandy mud splashing up against the back of his thighs, he ignored the minor distraction and forced himself to run faster, to push harder, his lungs burning, as he tore through the next breaking wave.
From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Barbara walking slowly toward the water’s edge, an impish grin across her elfish features. He slowed his pace to a trot and allowed himself to take her in fully as she swayed her hips seductively. “Seeing you a
ll wet and frothy, makes me hot, ya know,” she purred.
Robert smiled and slowed his breathing to a mild pant. “Just seeing you makes me hot.” He wiggled his brows at her.
“Pfft, the wind blows and you get hot.” She pushed him away with a hand to the chest. “You’re such a guy.”
Robert grabbed her by the bottom and lifted her to him. “Not just any wind, sweetheart.” He kissed the tip of her nose as she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his massive shoulders. “As I recall, only hurricane Barbara affects me like this.” He lowered her a bit and rubbed a certain part of his body against hers.
“Easy there, big fella,” she cooed. “Jack needs you.”
Robert stiffened slightly then groaned. “Dammit, I was hoping to drive you into the sand.”
“Again?” she laughed. “That’s almost all that we’ve been doing since we got here.”
Robert gave her a silly grin. “Call it a second honeymoon.”
“You have to remarry me first, you goofball!” She slapped at him until he put her down. “Go! Go to work and earn your keep around here.”
He winked and gave her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.” He turned to leave, then quickly pulled the towel from her waist before running off toward the compound.
“You’re a dick!”
“Love you, too!” He laughed as he dragged the towel across his back and down his thighs, swiping at the drying sandy mud.
Robert worked his way to the compound and entered the fortified gate. Nodding to the sentry, he entered the foyer and walked the long echoing hallway to the library. He stuck his head inside and found it empty. “Security room it is.” Bob knew if Jack was working, he was most likely in the library or the security room. He actually had a pseudo-office there, but rarely used it. Since taking on Viktor’s old position as Rufus’ Second, he had nearly converted the library into a staging area and office, but for real planning and strategizing, the security room was the place to be.
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