Blood Conspiracy (Brooklyn Shadows Book 2)

by Brock Deskins

“But no one raised an eyebrow when they took me?”

  “Of course we did. We raised an eyebrow as well as a glass at the party we threw. It was when Vincent failed to show up that we knew something was terribly wrong.”

  “There’s a funny gal in there after all. What’d you do, eat Wanda Sykes before you came over? Seriously, no one knows anything about these guys?”

  “We were hoping you could tell us something since you are the only one with firsthand knowledge of who they are.”

  “The man in charge is Agent Snow. He is leading a team out of the office of Homeland Security and running a black op.”

  “That explains why our people have not been successful in their intelligence gathering. We have several people in key positions throughout the government, CIA, FBI, and even the NSA, but it took years and decades to get them there. Homeland Security is a new organization and our resources have yet to advance deeply into the bureau. What else can you tell us?”

  “They are highly organized and very well-armed. I saw at least two dozen people, but I suspect their numbers are much larger. They are using a large, abandoned, concrete building of some kind, I think outside Philadelphia. That is what I have Marvin looking for now. Until we find out where that building is, there isn’t much we can do.”

  “Not true,” Harriet says. “We will begin forming a strike force and coordinate with the wolves so we are ready to move the moment we find out where they are.”

  I shake my head. “We cannot attack this head on. Their security measures are high, and all it takes is one data blast to tell the world all about us and provide enough evidence to make it convincing. We’ll need to cripple their communications before we go in guns blazing.”

  “Your argument has merit. Our initial entry will have to be covert so we can disable all forms of communication and get Vincent out.”

  “Your insistence on rescuing Vincent significantly increases the risk of failure. I have another solution. I call it Operation Fuck Vincent. It’s a lot like your idea only, well, the op name pretty much describes the technical difference.”

  Harriet glowers. “We are not abandoning Vincent and will make all effort to secure his release. Am I clear on this?”

  “Am I clear when I state that we have no idea of the layout of the building or where they are holding him?”

  Harriet nods to Lesile. “Does she? It is my understanding she was also on this little cleanup operation with you and has spent substantial time with these government agents.”

  I tell Lesile, “I think your new girlfriend ratted you out.”

  “I know who you are, Lesile, and know you dislike operating within the enclave. Despite your reputation and disdain for our order and laws, will you help us rescue Vincent and crush these people?”

  “Of course. They abused and humiliated me, and for that, they will pay dearly.”

  “Excellent. When we learn more of their position, you can lead Mr. Malone in facilitating the rescue. Once Vincent is clear, we can use a heavy hand to crush them.”

  “Hold on, lead me? Why am I going in?” I ask.

  “You have been inside, and you know how to counter the bomb implant. You do not think you will be able to walk out with him, do you? We can hope they did not inflict such barbarism upon him, but we cannot count on it.”

  “I hate to burst your bubble, but neither of us has the first clue how to turn it off. That’s what Marvin is for.”

  “Then take him with you.”

  I laugh. “Marvin…on a tactical raid? Marvin is the poster-child for geek analysts. He’s about as field-capable as a meerkat.”

  “It may be necessary, regardless. Since he knows all about the bomb, I presume he knows about us. If he is reluctant to do this, tell him that his knowledge of our existence comes with certain strings attached. One of them is his being at our disposal.”

  “This goes far beyond providing a service! You are expecting him to put himself in an extremely dangerous situation for which he has zero training.”

  “We will compensate him accordingly.”

  “You can’t compensate a dead man.”

  “Then I suggest you keep him alive. We are done here until we discover where these vermin are hiding.”

  Harriet and her retinue leave without another word. All I can do is stand in the middle of the room, clench my fists, and fume. My mind races with a myriad of ways for me to enact my revenge for her callous disregard for my…assets.

  “You see why I dislike the council?” Lesile asks. “They are dictators with no regard for anything or anyone except themselves. They veil their selfish natures by proclaiming the greater good, but in the end, it is about self-preservation.”

  “My focus right now is Marvin-preservation. He’s too valuable to me to risk losing on an uptight bastard like Vincent.”

  “Vincent is hardly the worst of them.”

  “He’s still about as useful to me as a third testicle.”

  “Why can’t you admit that you want to keep Marvin safe because he is your friend?”

  I spin on her and glare. “Because I don’t have friends! Friends can be used against you. I have associates who exist to help me in my work, nothing more.”

  “But you let Katherine close to you.”

  “And look what happened. Snow threatened her to make me do what he wanted. Just being near me puts her at risk, and I hate it.”

  Kat entwines her arm through mine. “I know the risks, but I choose to take them because I think you are worth it. You cannot decide for others how they feel about you. Is knowing me not worth the risk?”

  “Not if something ever happens to you. If Snow or anyone ever hurt you, I would make Timothy McVeigh look like a shoplifter.”

  “Talk to Marvin and let him decide.”

  “Fine, but I know him well enough that he is not going to be on board with this. Marvin!”

  My office door opens a crack, and Marvin pokes his head through. “Are they gone? They bring a whole new level to scary white people. I felt like the guest of honor at a Klan lynching.”

  “Come down here. I need to talk tactics with you.”

  He descends the metal stairwell with his computer in hand. “What’s up?”

  “The head of our enclave was taken shortly after I was, and he is still being held. That means we cannot launch a direct offensive until we free Vincent and know for sure that they can’t detonate any implanted bombs.”

  “Oh, okay, so you need me to show you how to use the signal scrambler.”

  “Can you do that?”

  “Sure, it’s not hard. Of course, we’re assuming they’re using the same frequency. If it’s a different one, then he’s screwed.”

  “Could you find out the new frequency and intercept it?”

  “Sure, but I’d have to be right next to him like I was with you and use the frequency analyzer to match the signal.” Marvin and I exchange looks for several long, silent moments. “Oh, hell no! Look, I can wreck an entire chat room with an ego-destroying trolling, but in a face-to-face confrontation, I am as big a coward as the rest of the Internet world. I’m not proud of it, but I know the truth. If they want to come at me on Call of Duty, I’m your man, but in the meat world, count me out.”

  “I want to count you out, but since you know our secret, the enclave decided to count you in.”

  “I demand a recount!”

  “Sorry, Florida, I wish I could.”

  “That better be an election reference and not Good Times. That’s racist.”

  “Trust me, Marvin; I don’t want to bring you on an op like this for a variety of reasons.”

  “My death being paramount I hope.”

  “It’s in my top ten.”

  “Well, thank you, David Letterman, for at least putting my life on the list.”

  “Fine, top five. Feel better?”

  “A little bit, but I should be at least in the top three.”

  I lay a hand on his shoulder. “Look, you saved my life, s
o I know you can handle yourself when it matters. You’ll be going in with me and Lesile. You can’t find better protection than us. I’ll even let you wear one of my bulletproof coats.”

  “Can I have the codename Morpheus?”

  “No.”

  “Neo?”

  “No.”

  “Black Neo—Negro. Wait, that’s racist. Oh, how about Blade!”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “You take all the fun out of infiltrating a government stronghold to rescue an old ass vampire in a mission where we have a high probability of getting shot. I bet you won’t even let me blog about it.”

  “Definitely not!”

  “Tweet?”

  “What part of secret are you not getting?”

  Marvin sighs. “So much street cred wasted. I’m probably considered a terrorist already. I bet there’s a drone circling overhead just waiting to blow my ass up the moment I step outside.”

  I push Marvin to the table. “Worry about drones later. Let’s focus on finding these guys.”

  “All right, but we’re still searching almost four thousand square miles.”

  “Can’t you just do a search for abandoned hospitals?”

  “Sure, but we’re assuming you were in a hospital, and they might not all be listed on the web. There are a lot of large civil war era structures in the area.”

  “Detective work is often a process of elimination. Let’s list all the ones we can find and see if we can scratch them off.”

  “Good idea.”

  “I’ve learned a few things in my time.”

  Marvin spends the next hour compiling a list of possible locations, and he was right, it is rather substantial. Since I never saw more than a few hallways and rooms, there is no way for me to assess its real size so I can narrow down the list.

  “What are our options?” I ask Marvin.

  “You said you thought there were some serious renovations. Other than driving to each of them and checking them out, all I can do is use Google Earth to see if anything shows up. Unless you have friends who have access to our country’s spy satellites and get real-time images?”

  “Not without drawing attention.”

  “You could search the county and state records for any kind of building permits or renovations,” Kat says. “I imagine many of these kinds of buildings have been deemed historical landmarks and would require some kind of paperwork even from Homeland Security.”

  “I doubt they filed it under their name, but it’s a possibility. Thanks, Kat.”

  “The DA doesn’t keep me around just for my pretty face.”

  “I know. No one could ignore that ass.”

  “Pig.”

  Marvin says, “Building permits aren’t usually on a public database, but since most of these are historical landmarks like Kat said, there’s bound to be a mention of any renovations or restorations somewhere on the web. Historical societies and architect groups like to blog and post newsletters about these kinds of things, so I’ll bounce some of our names around and see what comes back. Then we can use Google’s eye in the sky to see if anything looks out of the ordinary.”

  “I think I’ll step out for a bite to eat,” Lesile announces. “The surgery has left me famished.”

  She’s right. I’m far from a hundred percent myself. While the transfusion was sufficient to heal my body, there is a deeper hunger gnawing at my soul that only a full feeding will satiate. It doesn’t feel right leaving Marvin with the grunt work, but there isn’t anything I can contribute here.

  “I’m going to go out too. Marvin, Kat, you have my number if you need me before I return.”

  “I should go home, I’m exhausted,” Katherine says.

  “I would prefer it if you stayed here until we take care of Snow. He threatened to harm you if I didn’t play nice. He may not know I’m still alive, but if he suspects I might be, he would almost certainly come for you to get to me.”

  “I suppose you’re right, but your place isn’t conducive to getting a decent night’s sleep. I’ll hide out in one of the pack’s safe houses for now.”

  I open the drawer of a file cabinet, take out one of the phones inside, and add its number to my current phone. “Take one of my burners. The feds are probably listening in on yours. Don’t use my name, ever. Same for you, Marvin. If they can utilize the NSA’s systems, they can pick my name out of any conversation going on in the country.”

  “Good idea,” Marvin says. “We can use your codename: Hugh Janus.”

  It takes me a full six seconds to decipher the double entendre, which annoys me more than the joke itself. “Marvin, don’t make me regret my efforts to keep you alive.”

  Katherine kisses me goodbye and waves to Marvin before she leaves. She’s tough, and I know she can take care of herself, but I’m still worried. My life was easier without these kinds of distractions, but it wasn’t nearly as complete. I had a huge hole in my existence I didn’t know existed until she stepped into it, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

  Lesile took her car back, so I jump on my motorcycle and head across town. I’m particular about who I kill when I require a full feeding, and finding one who fits the bill takes some time and planning. I don’t feel like driving too far, so I decide to hit Brooklyn Bridge Park. Only fools and thugs wander around New York’s parks at night, and I’m hoping to find the latter, although the former will do in a pinch.

  I leave my bike in front of Plymouth Church and hoof it the rest of the way. Once I reach the north side of the park, I begin hunting the more likely predators lurking in the area. It doesn’t take me long to identify three primary targets and two secondary. I pick out a group of five with colors marking them as Latin Kings.

  Staggering and mumbling down one of the paved pathways, I show off my best impression of a guy who had too much to drink at the nearby wine bar and doesn’t have the wits to know where he’s going. Three of the five gangbangers split off and shadow me just as I had hoped. Deviating from the path, I leave the minimal protection of the streetlights and stagger into the shadowy interior of the strip of trees to my right.

  The thugs follow me in and make their move. There’s no clichéd demand to hand over my wallet or a request of any kind. Fists and feet start raining down on me without warning or preamble. I put up a feeble resistance, just enough to make it something of a challenge so I can determine how far these guys are willing to take it. It takes five seconds to find out that it’s all the way.

  Switchblades snick open and plunge into my body, signaling the start of the main event. I shed my drunken disguise and come up swinging for real. My left elbow destroys one’s face, and I send a second one flying twenty feet with a kick to the chest. I grab the third by the arm holding a knife, strip it from his hand, and put him in a chokehold. A quick headbutt stuns him into submission. I press a thumb against his jugular and use his knife to sever it. I clamp my mouth over the wound and release the pent-up flow from beneath my thumb.

  In less than five minutes, it’s all over. I don’t know if the other two are dead or not, and I don’t care. I could dump them in the river along with their friend, but it’s not as though they’re going to go running to the cops, so I leave them be. A good hunter preserves the herd after all.

  I stuff the gangbanger’s pockets full of rocks, poke a hole in each lung, and pitch him into the East River. It’s an impromptu disposal, but I don’t feel like paying for another body recovery. There’s a chance the corpse will float to the surface one day, but the only wounds on him were made with his knife, and the cops don’t look too hard for people who take out New York’s garbage. I’m halfway back to my bike when my phone buzzes.

  “Yeah?”

  “Hugh, I’ve got a narrow list of likely vacation spots.”

  Marvin is enjoying his spy game a little too much. I hang up without answering. My bike is still where I left it. It’s always a risk, but folks tend to steer clear of the big churches. Faith is the last flimsy barrier separ
ating human decency from depravity. Yeah, I see the hypocrisy coming from a guy who just killed someone in a park and drank his blood, but necessity trumps depravity.

  Lesile isn’t back when I return, but I’m not surprised. She likes to play with her food. I’m more of a drive-through kind of guy where she prefers a dinner theater whenever possible. Marvin is practically bouncing in his seat with anticipation.

  “What did you find?”

  He turns the screen and shows me a list of what I assume are the buildings fitting our search parameters. “I found over a dozen places fitting your description, and most of them have undergone some sort of renovations in the last couple of years. One stands out: Pennhurst State School and Hospital. Pennhurst was closed down in 1987 after numerous lawsuits involving patient abuse. Guess who bought the property?”

  “Surprise me.”

  “The Department of Military Affairs. Records show they were converting the upper campus into a veteran’s home, and that looks legit until the project flops. In 2010, someone decided to turn it into a haunted house for tourists. That ended a year ago, and now a twelve-foot chain-link fence surrounds the central building. A composting company running operations on the property claims to have purchased the structure and closed it off for renovations as their new headquarters. It didn’t take me long to follow their rather flimsy paper trail to figure out this was a shell corporation probably run by one of the federal bureaus.”

  “Okay, I admit it looks incriminating. Do you have anything more substantial before I call the enclave to have them send out a scouting party?”

  Marvin clicks around on his screen and brings up an earth view of the area. “Look at the dates on the maps. “Google Earth is a series of satellite photos stitched together like an enormous quilt. When I focus in on different areas, you can identify the individual images. Look at the dates.”

  “They’re the same.”

  “Right, they’re supposed to be. When the satellite passes over an area, it starts snapping pictures, so all the pictures of a given area are going to have the same date. But look at the image showing our school. Here’s the one from two years ago, and here’s the one taken four months ago.”