by Will Hill
“So what the hell was done to them?” asked Larissa. She was looking at the interim director with a frown on her face.
“They were injected, Lieutenant Kinley. With the plasma that coats the fangs of every vampire. In this case, that came directly from Dracula himself.”
There were gasps around the table. Jamie’s eyes widened, and he looked at Frankenstein. The monster was as impassive as ever, but he thought he saw a flicker of surprise in the corners of his eyes.
“The SPC was able to map Dracula’s DNA from the remains that were formerly in their possession,” continued Holmwood. “A comparison with the altered DNA of two of the Broadmoor patients produced a partial match, with enough similarity to draw the conclusion I have just given you.”
“That doesn’t explain why they’re so strong,” said Angela Darcy. “I thought vampire power increased with the amount of time they’ve been turned?”
“That was the accepted wisdom,” said Holmwood. “And we believe it remains the case. But Lieutenant Browning’s theory suggests there is more to it than we had believed. There now appears to be a clear link between the age of a vampire and the power of his or her victims. This explains why the escapees are so dangerous.”
“Maybe it only applies to Dracula?” suggested Dominique Saint-Jacques. “Because he was the first?”
Holmwood shook his head. “There are other examples. Marie Carpenter, who was turned by Alexandru Rusmanov, is significantly stronger and faster than we would expect her to be, given when she was turned. And . . .” He paused, turning his attention toward Larissa.
She frowned, then blushed under the combined gaze of the Zero Hour Task Force. “Me?” she asked. “You mean me?”
Holmwood nodded. “General Allen has reported that you demonstrate abilities far ahead of the expected curve. He described you to me as one of the most powerful vampires he has ever seen. Is that the case?”
Larissa was silent for a moment. “I suppose so,” she said, eventually. “I don’t know. I have nothing to compare myself with.”
“Well, let us assume that General Allen, who has seen many hundreds of vampires in his time, is correct. You were turned by Grey, who is reputed to be the oldest British vampire. Which, again, would fit the pattern that Lieutenant Browning has uncovered.”
There was silence around the table. Larissa looked deeply uncomfortable. Jamie tried to catch her eye, to give her a silent expression of support, but she didn’t look his way.
“This is remarkable,” said Major Van Thal. “Have you communicated these findings to the other Departments?”
Holmwood nodded. “The Departments have been made aware. Several are conducting their own research and will share their results when appropriate, but all have accepted the Browning Theory in principle.”
Matt’s eyes widened, and he blushed again. Jamie smiled; his friend was so uncomfortable with praise or attention, despite his obvious gifts. He was so lacking in arrogance or ego, and Jamie found himself suddenly furious, not for the first time, with the bullies who had made his friend’s life a misery for so long.
“So what does all this mean?” asked Kate. “Does this change anything?”
“Not in terms of our response,” said Holmwood. “There are one hundred and twelve of the Broadmoor escapees still at large, and the operational objective remains search and destroy. All operators will be briefed to exercise increased caution when confronting them, but the plan doesn’t change.”
“Maybe it should, sir,” said Larissa. Her face was pale, and Jamie could see a red flicker in the corners of her eyes that he knew all too well.
“You have something to say?” asked Holmwood, turning to face her.
“I’ve been thinking about something, sir,” said Larissa. “Something that happened to me a couple of days ago.”
“What is it?”
“I was in Las Vegas,” said Larissa. Jamie’s eyes narrowed slightly, but if she noticed, she didn’t let it show. “In a nightclub. I was outside, and I smelled another vampire, could smell her as soon as I was within about fifty yards of her, so I went over and said hello. Her name was Chloe, and she’d been turned a year earlier, in a club in New Orleans.”
“Why are you telling us this, Lieutenant Kinley?” asked Holmwood. “This isn’t the time for vacation stories.”
“Sorry, sir,” she replied. “The reason I’m telling you is because she had no idea who we were. She’d never heard of Blacklight, or NS9, or the SPC. She didn’t know that we existed, and even once I’d told her, she didn’t seem to care. She’d only ever known one other vampire, a man she’d dated for a while in Los Angeles. She didn’t kill people or turn them. And she thought Dracula was a character from the movies she saw when she was a kid.”
“What’s your point?” asked Paul Turner. “I’m assuming there is one?”
“My point,” said Larissa, fixing the security officer with an icy stare, “is that this was a perfectly normal girl, living her life, minding her own business, who just happened to be a vampire. She was no danger to anyone. But if some NS9 operator sees her through their visor on an operation in LA, they’ll stake her without a second thought.”
“So?” asked Holmwood.
“So how is that okay?” asked Larissa, her voice rising. “Killing her because of what she is? She hasn’t done anything wrong, and she never asked to be a vampire. Nor did any of the Broadmoor patients. They’d already been imprisoned for their crimes, and now we’ve passed death sentences on them all for something that isn’t their fault.”
“What do you suggest we do?” asked Turner. “Build some giant facility to contain them all and cross our fingers that Lazarus comes up with a cure before we have another breakout to deal with?”
“I’m not suggesting anything, sir,” replied Larissa. “I just think it’s important for us to remember what we’re really doing every time we pull the trigger of a T-Bone. We’re not destroying monsters, or rats, or cockroaches. They’re people with a disease, and we’re killing them.”
“That’s enough, Lieutenant Kinley,” said Cal Holmwood. “We’re facing far more serious problems at the moment, and we’re barely managing to stay afloat. So I’m afraid questions of morality will have to wait.”
Larissa nodded, although the look on her face assured Jamie that the issue was not dead. She would bide her time, but he had no doubt in his mind that she would raise the issue again when she felt the time was right.
Good, he thought. She should. What she said is the truth.
“All right,” said Holmwood. “Again, some of you will already be aware of this, but the investigation into the explosion that took place in Lieutenant Randall’s quarters is now complete. The device, as well as an identical one that was safely defused in Major Turner’s quarters, was placed there by Lamberton, the former valet to Valentin Rusmanov. He was blackmailed into doing so by a former member of this task force, whom I’m sure you have all noted by his absence.”
“Brennan,” spat Patrick Williams.
“Richard Brennan,” confirmed Holmwood. “His connection to Dracula, or more likely to Valeri Rusmanov, has not yet been ascertained, although it appears clear that it was the prospect of that connection being discovered that led him to take the action he did.”
“Attacking ISAT,” said Angela Darcy.
“Correct,” said Holmwood. “Whether he assumed that the deaths of Major Turner and Lieutenant Randall would mean the end of the investigation, or whether he was merely trying to create enough confusion to cover his escape, we don’t know. He’s gone, and we have no way of tracing him.”
“How did he pull it off?” asked Jamie. “How did he get Lamberton out of the cellblock to plant the bombs?”
Holmwood glanced over at his security officer. “Major Turner?”
“Thank you, sir,” said Turner. “Brennan took the components for m
aking the devices to Lamberton himself, in a standard-issue duffle bag. We have security footage of him entering the cellblock three days ago carrying the bag, then leaving without it. It wasn’t picked up by Surveillance. Brennan’s Zero Hour classification meant that his visiting the captive vampires was not a noteworthy event.”
“Perhaps more investigation should have been done before we handed out such freedom,” said Frankenstein, his voice low and deep.
“Perhaps, Colonel,” said Turner. “As far as releasing Lamberton from the cellblock, I am disappointed to report that Brennan successfully blackmailed a member of my division, Operator Alex Lombard. Lombard was apparently conducting an extramarital affair, and Brennan had come into possession of a series of incriminating e-mails. Lombard was instructed to allow Lamberton out for a twenty-minute window during his shift in the cellblock guard post. Brennan apparently promised him that nobody would be hurt.”
“Where is he now?” asked Captain Van Thal. “Lombard.”
“He has been discharged from this Department,” said Turner. “Dishonorably.”
Van Thal nodded.
“What about Natalia?” asked Matt. “Is there a medical update?”
“As I’m sure you well know, Lieutenant Browning,” said Holmwood, the ghost of a smile rising on his face, “Miss Lenski is recovering well and is expected to rejoin the Lazarus Project within the week.”
“Good,” said Kate. “That’s something, at least.”
Turner nodded. “Agreed. Now. I am pleased to be able to report the completion of the ISAT process that Lieutenant Randall and I have been conducting. We have now interviewed and assessed every serving member of the Department, including Captain Van Thal and his colleagues. It may be little consolation today, in light of recent events, but our preliminary conclusion is that the current roster of Blacklight is clean, for what we must regrettably assume is the first time in a very long while.”
“Thank you,” said Holmwood. “And thank you, too, Lieutenant Randall. I know this was far from an easy assignment, and the whole Department owes you its gratitude.”
Turner nodded and glanced at Kate, who smiled.
“Is there anything anyone wishes to add?” asked Holmwood.
“Valentin,” said Jamie. He had gone down to see his mother following the doomed chase after John Morton, and noticed immediately that the cells that had been occupied by the youngest Rusmanov brother and his servant were empty. “Where is he?”
“Mr. Rusmanov has been sent in search of his brother and his former master,” said Holmwood. “He will report back when he has information.”
Frankenstein grunted with laughter. “I won’t be holding my breath.”
“Neither will I, Colonel,” said Holmwood. “But I believe Valentin to be a man of his word, and that we will see him again.”
“I’m sure we will,” said Frankenstein. “Walking alongside his brother as his master leads them into battle against us.”
“Time will tell,” said Holmwood. “One of us will no doubt be right and the other wrong, but only time will tell. Anything else, the rest of you?”
There was silence around the Ops Room table.
“We have been hurt,” continued Holmwood. “By Valeri’s attack and by the rot we have found at the heart of everything we thought we were. But we have won victories, too, these past months, and we will win more of them. If I didn’t believe that, I would not be standing here in front of you all, and I would not ask you to give as much as I do. I remain honored to be your commanding officer. Thank you. Dismissed.”
* * *
Larissa was last to leave the Ops Room. She watched with almost detached interest as the rest of the Zero Hour Task Force made their way out into the corridor.
Kate paused to talk to Paul Turner before walking away alongside Matt, who checked over his shoulder to see if Jamie was following them. He was, rising from his chair with a grimace on his face and one hand pressed against his damaged ribs.
Patrick Williams and his brother strolled out side by side, Jack unable to resist taking the briefest of glances at Angela Darcy, who was deep in conversation with Dominique Saint-Jacques and Andrew Jarvis. Amy Andrews left alongside Cal Holmwood, while Paul Turner and Frankenstein exited deep in conversation. She waited for a long moment, enjoying the quiet of the suddenly empty room, trying to let her anger subside.
There’s a phrase for killing people simply because of what they are, she thought. It’s called “ethnic cleansing.”
Larissa took a deep breath and crossed the room. She knew Jamie would be waiting for her in the corridor, and she knew they needed to talk.
They had spent most of her first day back locked in her quarters, emerging only to shower and eat. Jamie had told her about John Morton, and she had tried to make him see that it wasn’t his fault. He had asked about Nevada, and she had told him that she had enjoyed it, without offering any further details. His eyes had narrowed with suspicion, but they had not spoken about it again. Instead, they had spent their time catching up on what had been happening at the Loop, a question that took a long time to answer.
Larissa opened the Ops Room door and smiled at her boyfriend. He was leaning against the wall, and straightened up as she approached.
“Matt and Kate need to get back to work,” he said. “But they’re going to get something to eat first. I told them we’d join them.”
“Okay,” said Larissa. “That sounds good.”
They stood in the corridor, the silence between them uneasy.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“I think so,” replied Jamie. “Were you in Vegas when I rang you? I tried a couple of times.”
Larissa nodded. “I was talking to Chloe,” she said. “The vampire. I’m sorry I couldn’t answer.”
That’s almost the truth, she told herself. Almost.
“It’s okay,” he said, his smile returning. “I know how it is.”
“Right,” said Larissa. The freedom of thought and deed that she had so enjoyed in Nevada was already gone. Now her world was again full of guilt and secrets and darkness.
“I’m glad you’re home, Larissa,” said Jamie, softly. “It hasn’t been the same without you.”
“I’m glad to be back,” she lied.
EPILOGUE: THREE FAREWELLS
I can’t believe she didn’t even say goodbye,” repeated Tim Albertsson.
“Really?” asked Kelly. “You can’t think of any reasons why she wouldn’t? Not a single one?”
They were sitting in a booth in Sam’s Diner with Danny and Aaron. The atmosphere was cool and tense. It was the first time the four friends had gotten together since Tim had sent them all a message telling them that Larissa was gone, and each of them was wrestling with things they wanted to say.
“Say what’s on your mind, Kelly,” said Tim. “Don’t imply it.”
“What she’s implying,” said Danny, tipping cream and sugar into his coffee and stirring it vigorously, “is that it’s your fault she went like she did. And I agree with her.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Tim. “I didn’t do anything.”
Kelly snorted. “Apart from make it obvious that you liked her, and flirt with her, and try to kiss her, and make her feel uncomfortable. You knew she had a boyfriend, but you couldn’t leave it, could you, couldn’t accept that maybe you couldn’t have her? And you’re surprised that she decided not to take you back to Blacklight with her, so you could hang out with her and Jamie? If so, you’re an idiot.”
Tim stared at his friend. He knew what she was saying was true, but he wanted to tell her she didn’t know the full story, that Larissa had liked him back, he knew she had, and that she had liked his attention, encouraged it, even. But he couldn’t say so; it would only make him seem more arrogant, more self-obsessed.
“What really pisses
me off,” said Danny, looking evenly at him, “is that you didn’t just screw it up for yourself. You screwed it up for all of us. She would have taken us with her, but you made her feel like she couldn’t. So she’s gone, and we’re still here.”
“I don’t blame her,” Tim said, eventually. “And you’re right, it’s my fault. I’m sorry.”
“That’s great,” said Aaron. The quiet intelligence operator was staring out of the diner’s window, sipping from a glass of water. “It doesn’t change anything, though, does it? She was only here for a few weeks, but she was part of us. I don’t think I’m the only one who thought so. It’s sad that you don’t get to go to Blacklight, because I know how much you’ve always wanted to. It’s annoying that we don’t get to go either, as I, for one, was looking forward to the change of scenery. But there’s a bigger issue here, far bigger. I think we all know that Blacklight is going to be at the frontline of what’s coming. And I’m sure we could help them, but we aren’t going. And that’s on you, whether you’re sorry or not.”
Tim was astonished. It was the most he had ever heard Aaron say in one go, and the words cut him deeply. He was happy to accept the charge of having pursued Larissa when he shouldn’t have, of causing her to run away from him and his friends, but what Aaron was suggesting was far, far worse.
He’s saying that I hurt our chances against Dracula.
“I’m sorry if I let you down,” he said. “All of you.”
“Jesus, Tim,” said Kelly. “We know you weren’t deliberately trying to mess everything up, and we know this isn’t how you wanted things to turn out. You just need to realize that you can’t control everything, that everything doesn’t always go your way. Bad things happen.”
“Bad things happen,” repeated Tim. “Amen to that.”
* * *
A long way from Sam’s Diner, in the northeast of England, a man and his daughter stopped beside a car in a station parking lot.
Kate Randall had spent much of the previous three days with her dad. She and Matt had pleaded with Cal Holmwood not to lock their fathers in the Loop’s cells, and the interim director had eventually relented, permitting them to sleep in one of the dormitories that usually housed new Blacklight recruits. They were locked in every night and confined to the Loop, although that was largely an unnecessary restriction; the two men were not soldiers and were extremely unlikely to attempt to escape from a classified military base.