Rift Walker, The (Vampire Empire, Book 2)

by Clay Griffith

  “If I may,” Colonel Eskandari said in a voice unable to conceal his anger at both the massacre and the politics that greeted it, “I believe that Senator Clark made several valid points warning against postponing an offensive and allowing the clans time to bolster their defenses.”

  Kelvin gave the marine a long, cold stare. “Thank you, Colonel. As my chief military liaison, I will send for you to report to the War Committee later today. I will also expect you to confine your comments to the events on Gibraltar. You may go.”

  “Yes, Kelvin Pasha.” Eskandari saluted brusquely and left the room.

  The two great men of the Empire sat in silence as the ever-present army of clerks streamed in and out. Kelvin set about making notes in excellent penmanship for a dispatch to the new chairman of the War Committee, his good friend Tarik Karami, the member for Beyrut. Lord Aden tapped his foot nervously on the teak tiles.

  Finally, Aden reiterated, “Who could have seen this coming?”

  “No one, I'm sure. Certainly not the valiant General Von Holst, evidently.”

  The young magnate watched the clerks shuffling about the room. “It makes you think. About vampire capabilities, I mean. Have we completely underestimated Cesare and his ilk?”

  “Collect yourself, my lord.” Lord Kelvin finished writing a sentence, then set down his pen precisely and said in a measured tone, “The news is disturbing and your agitation on behalf of our Empire does you credit, but please consider your position.” His eyes flicked to the many young professionals who didn't seem to be paying attention to their betters, but no doubt were.

  Aden slid a finger along his thin mustache. “Quite right, Mr. Prime…Kelvin Pasha. I concur with everything you have said about the war. I'm merely surprised by the attack on Gibraltar. A terrible waste.” He drew a cigarette case from his waistcoat and offered one to Kelvin, who for once accepted. “And the people, of course. In Gibraltar and here in Alexandria. So many innocents dead. It seems…sinful.”

  “Dreadful times,” the prime minister grunted in agreement and slipped the Turkish cigarette between his lips. Only he noticed the slight tremble in his fingers.

  SENATOR CLARK PACED his luxurious prison; even rooms as lavish and spacious as these still stank of confinement and fanned his rage. The Equatorians had created one impediment after another for him since he had come to this city. The whole of the Empire had plotted against him, from that insipid girl to her penny dreadful boyfriend to the insufferable Prime Minister Kelvin. Their audacity made Clark's blood boil to the point that he could contemplate war with Equatoria. His friendship had been spat upon. It seemed the only one who ever had any intention of joining Equatoria with the American Republic was Emperor Constantine, and he was dead, leaving Clark alone to sort through the mess.

  Clark abruptly halted and spun toward Stoddard. “You say Ranger's gas bags are being filled?”

  “Yes, sir. As we speak.” Stoddard replied. “They also allowed the full crew aboard. I can only assume they are readying us for departure.”

  “Departure! You mean expulsion! Kelvin has held me here for weeks while he shored up his hold on the government. I'll be damned if some political weasel is going to steal my title of emperor.” A sudden knock on the door made Clark snarl. “Enter,” he shouted, “at your own risk.”

  The aforementioned weasel stepped in, flanked by six Persian marines. Clark sneered at the cowardly man, approaching Lord Kelvin with no fear of the soldiers. “Come to gloat, have we?”

  “No need,” Kelvin said calmly. “It is merely a sad state of affairs that has led to this. You will be happy to learn that the Equatorian-American alliance is still strong despite the late unpleasantness. Your presence is requested back in the Americas posthaste. We shan't detain you from your duties.”

  “Mark me, Prime Minister, my duties have recently expanded. A number of items have been repositioned at the very top of my to-do list.” He stared pointedly at Lord Kelvin.

  “I have revived the old position of khedive, and surrendered the post of prime minister. That said, we're all busy, I'm sure. I'll keep you no longer. Your baggage has been loaded onto your vessel. What has been overlooked will be shipped to you at a later date.” Kelvin turned to the guards behind him. “Escort the senator to USS Ranger so they may be on their way.”

  The marines snapped to attention. “When you are ready, Senator.”

  “I'm more than ready to leave this godforsaken place.” Clark stalked past the Persian soldiers, Major Stoddard at his heels.

  Within the hour, the dirigible on Ranger was ready to sail and the frigate was held fast only by the tether lines to the Pharos One tower. There was no grand farewell ceremony, and Kelvin was not present to spout some pompous rhetoric, for which Clark was relieved. He might have been forced to open fire on the miserable little eel.

  The senator looked down toward the shining Victoria Palace that should have been his by rights. His eyes narrowed, not due to the sun's glare, but at the thought of Princess Adele's betrayal. Even so, the girl seemed to be his only way back to Equatoria. Only Adele could make this disaster right and give him what he deserved.

  “Make ready!” Clark shouted. “Release the mooring lines!”

  The ship listed as she was freed, and Clark shifted his feet to keep himself steady. The mooring tower slipped away, and as soon as Ranger was clear, he moved beside Stoddard.

  “Heading, sir?”

  Clark grinned malevolently.

  The American ship lifted into the azure sky. The warm Mediterranean winds filled the sails of the vessel as it arced out over the water.

  Lord Kelvin breathed out slowly so that no one nearby could hear his sigh of relief. He also withheld the satisfied smile now that this final piece of the puzzle was in place.

  Kelvin turned to go back to his comforting mountain of paperwork, but Colonel Eskandari beside him coughed and gestured to the north. To the khedive's amazement, Ranger was coming about. Eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun, and Kelvin wondered aloud, “What is that lunatic American doing now?”

  “I don't like it,” Eskandari said. “The man is capable of anything. Should I alert the shore batteries, sir?”

  “What does he think he can accomplish?” murmured Kelvin. “Does he really think any rash act could win the day?”

  “Should I alert the shore batteries, sir?” Eskandari repeated forcefully, pointing out, “Ranger is on course for the palace.”

  Lord Kelvin shook his head, ignoring the startled words from the colonel. Most likely the American was just grandstanding, as he was wont to do, in hopes of frightening them. If so, the senator was sorely mistaken.

  Eskandari stated more succinctly, “If we allow Ranger to close and then Clark opens fire, civilians will be in danger, sir.”

  “I'm well aware of that, Colonel. They would die by Clark's hand, not mine.”

  “That was not my point, sir.” Eskandari fumed, dark eyes staring like granite at the khedive.

  Kelvin ignored his military commander. Even if the American did open fire, it would buy him nothing. Whatever love the Equatorians still harbored for the brash and outlandish foreigner would be erased by the death of innocent civilians. And Kelvin would be more than happy to contact the American government to inform them that Clark had gone rogue. It would cement Kelvin's plan to prevent Clark from infringing on his claim as the regent. He waited with interest to witness the American's next move and wondered if the unusual excitement fluttering in his chest was how all generals felt on the glorious battlefield.

  Ranger moved swiftly like the predator she was. Her speed was well beyond safety protocols for maneuvering within populated airspace, but Clark did not care. They had only precious minutes for what he had in mind before the Equatorians came to their senses. Numerous cannons were ready to blast them from the sky, but not surprisingly, Kelvin didn't have the guts to open fire.

  The frigate swooped so low over the Ras el-Tin that Clark could actually see Kelvin's sudd
en frightened expression before he ducked into an alcove off one of the palace balconies. Ranger aimed for the east wing of the palace, which was rushing toward them at alarming speed.

  Abruptly, Clark shouted, “Hard alee!”

  Tether hooks were fired to starboard as the crew grabbed hold of something solid. Iron claws grappled stone ledges and steam pipes, which groaned from the massive weight they suddenly held. Some structures crumpled or snapped, but many held fast. Sails luffed and the ship heeled hard over, screeching from the strain. Men were thrown to the deck or staggered violently, but none stayed down long and all rushed back to their stations.

  “Over the sides!” Clark pulled a chemical mask over his face, grabbed a line, and jumped overboard. Major Stoddard was close behind with a squad of Rangers as they landed on a balcony. Disengaging from the lines, they surged into the palace. Startled civil servants and dignitaries scrambled out of the way, confused and alarmed at the sight of armed commandos. Most likely they thought vampires had been spotted in the city again.

  The Americans raced down several flights of stairs and plunged deep into the dungeons without slowing. Two Persian guards at the end of the hall barely had time to look up before flash grenades sailed at them, letting off startling bright explosions and spraying tendrils of chemicals. Greenish smoke filled the hall. Clark and Stoddard barreled into the Persians, hurling them to the ground with the butts of their rifles.

  “Damn, that felt good,” Clark exclaimed in a muffled voice as he pulled keys from a marine's belt.

  “This looks to be the right place, sir.” Stoddard replied. “According to what I heard.”

  Clark threw open the door. “Schoolteacher!”

  The room was dark, and for a moment Clark worried that he had made a mistake. Then he saw the figure in the center of the room, bent and chained. “Damn me. I never thought Kelvin was man enough to do this.”

  Stoddard spun and signaled for the ship's carpenter. The brawny man entered with a bag of tools.

  “Strike those shackles,” Clark ordered. “And fast.”

  The man set to work and in a few minutes tossed the chains aside. Stoddard pulled down his gasmask and knelt before Mamoru, staring into his half-closed eyes. The samurai recognized the American and raised his eyebrows.

  “Can you stand?” Stoddard asked. “Or do we need to carry you?”

  “Where am I going?” Mamoru asked.

  Senator Clark grinned. “I'm leaving and I'm taking you with me.”

  Mamoru nodded as he flexed his raw hands. “What do you hope to accomplish?”

  “What I started out to do. I aim to have a bride.” Clark enjoyed the look of astonishment that briefly flitted across the samurai's face. “Did you think I would just give up? That ain't the way I do things.”

  “It ain't?” Mamoru mocked, and painfully stretched his legs. “Well, I expected nothing less from you.”

  An amused smirk emerged on Clark's face. “Glad you think so, schoolteacher, since my plan hinges on you.”

  Mamoru's eyes narrowed. “In what way?”

  “You found Adele for me in London. You'll find her again, won't you?” It wasn't a question. Clark's stare had turned hard as he waited for the schoolteacher to realize he had no other recourse.

  “I see,” replied Mamoru quietly. “I assume you have your ship.”

  “Right outside. Now, can you walk or not?”

  “I can.” The samurai stood on unsteady legs. His torso was a map of dried blood and ropey scars. He pulled his robe up over his shoulders with a wince. “Shall we? I have an interest in finding my student, as I suspect she has been sorely lacking the proper curriculum of late.”

  Clark gave Stoddard an unusual glance of admiration for the samurai's pure toughness. It was hard not to respect a man who could withstand the punishment he had obviously taken.

  The unlikely allies had departed the cell and ascended to the main floor of the palace when an armed contingent rounded the opposite corner. The Americans fell against the walls, slipping into shallow doorways, and opened fire immediately, sending the Equatorian guards scrambling for cover.

  “Dammit!” Clark shouted. “I don't want to kill a bunch of Equatorians, but—”

  “Where is your ship?” Mamoru yelled over the staccato gunfire.

  “Moored to the southeast corner of the palace.”

  “Come.” Mamoru veered left down a short hallway, moving with amazing speed and surety. Clark and the others followed, still laying down cover fire.

  It wasn't long before Clark grabbed Mamoru's arm. “You're going the wrong way, schoolteacher. We want to escape, not visit that pompous ass Kelvin in the royal chambers. My ship is back that way.”

  “This is the way out. Trust me, Senator.”

  Clark glowered at the samurai but then laughed abruptly. “You better know where you're going.”

  Mamoru began to feel around the wall, pressing bricks until finally there was a click. A narrow door slid aside with a quiet rumble of counterweights and pulleys. Mamoru waited for an exclamation of surprise from the senator, but instead found the man grinning from ear to ear while gesturing for the samurai to continue to lead.

  “Schoolteacher, my ass,” Clark said as the Rangers entered the once-hidden cleft in the wall. “The Equatorians sure love their damned secret passages. It must be their leading industry.”

  The door rumbled closed and pitched them into darkness. Behind them could be heard the marching feet of a passing patrol. Mamoru's hand fumbled for a switch on the stone wall. A snap and a subsequent hiss accompanied the eerie glow of chemical lights as they slowly illuminated one by one down the empty tunnel. The samurai slipped through the passageway, but Senator Clark had to twist his broad American shoulders to fit, as did some of the Rangers.

  There were numerous offshoot tunnels from the main passage, and it wouldn't have taken much effort to lose the men if Mamoru had wanted, a fact that Clark realized as he increased his stride to keep close to the schoolteacher. They passed through a series of ancient tombs piled with mummies so desiccated that withered limbs protruded through crumbling linen. A tunnel soon angled up and the group emerged into the hot sun. Ranger was anchored to the nearby palace wall.

  The senator checked his watch. It had been barely fifteen minutes since the rescue began. They needed to move; even with Kelvin's inaction, the Equatorians would start to make trouble soon. He didn't particularly want to shoot his way out of Alexandria. The Rangers smoothly covered all angles as they started across the lawn toward drop lines that fell from the frigate.

  Clark laughed as they ran. “I'm not sure what to make of you, schoolteacher. I just hope you can find my wife.”

  “I can. But my methods are not your methods.”

  “As long as they work.” And, Clark thought, As long as I control them.

  NGONGO'S MOUNTAINEERS CREPT toward the top of a rock-strewn ridge. They moved slowly, rustling with heavily scented plants stuffed into their belts and headbands. They were also smeared with gorilla blood again, except for King Msiri, who was daubed with the blood of a leopard as befit his station.

  General Ngongo signaled for the men to halt, then pointed back to King Msiri and Adele and motioned them forward. She scrambled up as quickly as she could, with Anhalt in tow, and the king breathing heavily with expectation beside her. Cresting the rise, they peered down the other side. The ground sloped away for fifty yards, then suddenly disappeared into a crevasse of misty nothingness. The edge was connected to a distant plateau by a simple rope bridge, a single foot line and two hand lines.

  Adele had expected to find an ancient fortress or walled city. She had assumed the Katangans would have to lay siege to their target. However, Jaga's Grand Boma was just an empty plateau, several hundred yards across, surrounded on three sides by sheer cliffs pockmarked with caves and crevices. All of it was empty. No vampires. No humans. The caves stood silent, like blank eyes in a monster's head.

  “Where are they?” Msiri
looked expectantly at Adele as if she could discern some intelligence from the scene. “They must be here. We must bring this campaign to an end. We are badly undersupplied now. We cannot sustain ourselves in these mountains.”

  “I don't know.” Adele wondered what the queen mother had told Msiri about her abilities. Adele's limited geomantic training was not enough to determine their enemy's location. Flicking down her chemical goggles, she scanned the boma. “They could be hiding in the caves. I don't even see any sign of humans. I don't smell fires. The vampires are either hiding or they fled. Surely we haven't taken them by surprise. They certainly knew we were coming.”

  Msiri said, “I will have the boma. If Jaga is there, I will kill him. If he is not, I will find him. I will build a permanent base here. Jaga's mountains are mine now.”

  Without taking his eyes off the empty plateau, General Ngongo said, “We'll cross to the boma and clear it.” He slid back down toward the gathering army.

  Soon, Mountaineers with rifles strapped to their backs began to struggle up the hill carrying heavy coils of rope with grappling hooks and what looked like mortars. They topped the rise and slid down the far side, gathering at the edge of the crevasse. The men fixed ropes to the hooks and then loaded the grapples into the mortars. They fired the hooks in a barrage of booming puffs of smoke and the lines slithered across the chasm, slamming down on the other side. The Mountaineers took up their ends of the ropes and pulled them taut, if they could. Most of the grapples slid over the rocky ground and plummeted into the ravine. Pulled back up, they were fired again while those lines that held fast were fixed to anchors on this side.

  Msiri rose to his feet. Adele and Anhalt exchanged glances as the king slid down the hill and went toward the swaying rope bridge.