by Will Hill
Then the hospital door burst outwards, breaking and splintering on to the cobblestones of the courtyard. A huge man in a white gown appeared in the doorway, his eyes glowing; they showed up on the monochrome footage as bright, flickering white. He walked slowly forward, stopped, then threw back his head and screamed silently at the night sky. All at once the courtyard was full of movement, as the newly-turned patients of Broadmoor spilled into it; dozens of them, then what seemed like hundreds, running and leaping and pushing at each other, a wide stream of vampires revelling in the glory of freedom. They began to run across the courtyard, disappearing beneath the camera and flooding out into the night.
“Freeze it there!” shouted Jacob Scott. “Right there!”
Jamie looked over at the Australian Colonel; his eyes were fixed on the screen, his weathered face pale and drawn. Cal Holmwood hit a key on his console and the footage stopped moving. He rewound until Jacob told him to stop, then tapped at his console again. The still image sharpened until it looked like a photograph.
“What are we looking at?” he asked.
Jacob Scott got slowly to his feet and walked across to the wall screen. He reached out a trembling hand and pointed at a man walking calmly across the courtyard.
“Him,” said Scott. “He’s who I wanted you to see.”
“Who is that?” asked Jamie.
“That’s one of us,” replied the Colonel. “That’s Albert Harker.”
16
CLASSIFIED MEANS CLASSIFIED
TWENTY MINUTES LATER
“I can’t believe it,” said Cal Holmwood. “I knew David Harker. I can’t believe he’d do that to his own son.”
“He did it, sir,” said Jacob Scott, his voice low and unsteady. “I was there. I saw.”
Jamie had listened with slowly dawning horror to the long, sad tale of Albert Harker. Colonel Scott had told it carefully, leaving out nothing, allowing the cruelty that had apparently lurked at the heart of the Harker family to be fully revealed; how his father and brother had committed Albert to Broadmoor under an assumed name, to languish there in secret until he died.
How could they do it? he thought, his mind struggling to process such horror. How could anyone do that?
“I don’t know these men,” he said. “They’re not still Operators, are they?”
“They’re both dead,” replied Holmwood. “David died more than a decade ago, Robert, what, getting on for two years?”
Paul Turner nodded. “About six months after his sons passed,” he said.
Jamie’s mind was filled with an image of the bronze plaque in the rose garden at the edge of the Loop. “The Harker brothers who died when the first Mina went down,” he said, slowly. “John and George. They were Robert’s sons?”
“David’s grandsons,” said Holmwood. “And Albert’s nephews, although I doubt they even knew he existed. I can’t imagine their father mentioned his brother very often.”
“But you knew Albert existed,” pressed Jamie. “You knew David Harker and you must have known he had two sons. Didn’t you ever wonder about him?”
“We knew Albert was… different,” said Holmwood. “I mean, everyone did. It was no secret. It was a scandal when he turned us down and we all knew David was furious. But I had no idea about the rest.”
“No one knew, sir,” said Jacob Scott. “David and Robert knew, and I knew. That was it.”
“How did you know?” asked Paul Turner. “Why were you even there, Jacob? This was clearly a family matter.”
“Robert asked me to go with him,” replied Scott. “He told me he needed someone he could trust. So I went.”
“I don’t understand why Robert wanted anyone there apart from himself and his father,” said Holmwood.
“I’ve thought about that, sir,” said Scott, his eyes flicking momentarily to the floor. “I’ve thought about it a lot, over the years. I’ve come to the conclusion that Robert didn’t trust David not to go too far if it was just the three of them.”
The implication of the Colonel’s words hung in the air, clear to everyone in the room.
Jesus, thought Jamie. Jesus Christ.
“Are you saying that—” Jack Williams began, but was interrupted by the Interim Director.
“I think we all know exactly what Jacob is saying, Jack,” said Holmwood. “And before we crucify the memory of a loyal member of this Department, I would remind you all that Jacob is telling us what he believes, rather than what he knows for certain. Is that clear to you all?”
“That’s right,” said Scott. “You asked me what I thought. I don’t know for certain what was going through David’s mind.”
“But you were happy to go along with it?” said Paul Turner, his voice like ice. “Happy to help your friend commit his brother to a mental hospital for the rest of his life for no reason?”
“I wasn’t happy about it!” shouted Colonel Scott. “Not then and not now! And neither was Robert, or David! It broke their hearts to see what Albert had become, how much he hated them, wanted to hurt them. But they put their feelings aside and they did what needed to be done, for all of us. For the good of the Department.”
“For the good of the Department,” repeated Turner, slowly. “Is that what you tell yourself, Jacob?”
“Go to hell, Paul,” spat Scott. “Don’t you judge me, not after the things we both know you’ve done. You think I don’t remember Serbia? Or Belfast?”
“Enough!” shouted Cal Holmwood, slamming his hand down on the top of his desk. “Jacob, why are we only hearing about this now? Why didn’t you tell us yesterday morning at the Zero Hour briefing?”
Scott met the Interim Director’s eyes for a brief moment, then looked down at the floor.
“I know why,” said Paul Turner. “Do you want to tell them, Jacob, or should I?”
Scott gave the Security Officer a look of pure venom. “You tell them,” he said. “I can see you’re dying to.”
“Fine,” said Turner. “We sent out the ISAT interview orders for tomorrow about an hour ago. Jacob’s name is third on that list. By now, every Operator in the Loop knows at least some of the questions we’re asking. One is whether there are any incidents in which the subject believes he may have compromised the security of the Department, intentionally or otherwise.”
“You knew you were going to get caught,” said Holmwood, looking at Colonel Scott. “So you decided to come clean first. Is that it?”
Jacob stared at the Interim Director, anguish written plainly across his face, and nodded. “I didn’t think it mattered,” he said, hoarsely. “Until yesterday, I really don’t think it did. It wasn’t Blacklight business, Cal. It was family.”
“It was despicable,” said Jack Williams.
“I’m inclined to agree with you,” said Holmwood. “But regardless of how any of us may feel about David Harker’s decision, the fact remains that he has left us a situation that needs dealing with. Firstly, I want a Field Investigation Team to find the journalist that Harker spoke to in 2002; he may well be in danger. Andrews, scramble a team and have him brought in.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Amy Andrews.
“All right,” said Holmwood. “Secondly, I want a squad despatched to find Albert Harker. Ideally, I’d like him brought here and placed in custody, but if that proves to be impossible, then SOP applies to him in exactly the same way it does every other vampire.”
“Let me do it,” said Jacob Scott. His jaw was set in a straight line, and his voice was firm and steady. “I can bring him home, sir. I know I can.”
“Not a chance, Jacob,” said Holmwood. “You are hereby confined to quarters, and I’m suspending your position on this Task Force, pending a full Security Division investigation. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Scott’s eyes had widened enormously and he appeared to be on the verge of tears. “Yes, sir,” he managed, his voice little more than a croak.
“Good,” said Holmwood. “Jack, I want you to take care
of Albert. I’m going to make finding him Surveillance’s top priority. When they do, we’ll move him to the top of your target list under a fake name. Clear?”
“Yes, sir,” said Jack Williams. “Thank you, sir.”
“All right,” said Holmwood. “The rest of you, carry on as normal. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that not a single word of this goes beyond this office? If I so much as hear the name Albert Harker anywhere in this base, I swear to God I will court-martial every single one of you and to hell with the consequences. Please tell me you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” chorused the group of Operators.
“Good,” said Holmwood, and sighed deeply. “It’s at times like these that I remember exactly why I never wanted this bloody job. Lieutenant Carpenter, I need to speak to you, please. The rest of you, get the hell out. Dismissed.”
Jamie groaned inwardly. Jack Williams gave him a quizzical look as he got to his feet; he gave his head the tiniest shake in response. Jack jerked his thumb towards the door and gave a brief nod. The meaning of the two gestures was clear.
I’ll wait for you outside.
Then Jack was gone, and he was alone with the Interim Director.
“What happened yesterday, Lieutenant?” asked Holmwood, leaning back in his chair.
“Sir, I haven’t had a chance to write my—”
“Cut the shit, Jamie,” interrupted the Interim Director. “Just tell me what happened.”
Jamie took a deep breath. “I terminated our Operation early, sir. I didn’t think it was safe for my squad to remain in the field.”
“It’s never safe out there,” said Holmwood. “What was different yesterday?”
“One of my new squad members reacted badly to his first encounter with a vampire, sir. He froze, and almost got hurt. The rest of our target list was still unidentified, so I made the decision to return to the Loop.”
“Without authorisation?”
“Yes, sir,” said Jamie. “I’m sorry, sir.”
Cal Holmwood rubbed his temples and closed his eyes momentarily. “Your rookie,” he said, eventually. “What’s his name?”
“Morton, sir. John Morton.”
“Morton,” repeated the Interim Director, and sighed again. “Not everyone is cut out to be an Operator, Jamie. What they did before they got here doesn’t guarantee anything.”
“That’s what I’m saying, sir,” said Jamie, keeping his voice calm and even. “I don’t think he’s a lost cause, not at all. But I don’t think he’s ready to be out there.”
“He’s going back into training as soon as this crisis is over,” said Holmwood. “Him and all the other rookies. When he does, I’ll order Terry to keep a closer eye on him, but until then I don’t know what else you want me to do.”
“I want you to put him on the inactive roster, sir,” said Jamie.
“Out of the question,” said Holmwood, instantly. “We need all the men we can get. You know that.”
“Sir, if we—”
“Lieutenant Carpenter,” interrupted Holmwood, a weary expression on his face. “Do you understand what is happening right now? What we’re facing?”
“Yes, sir,” said Jamie. “Of course I do. I just think that—”
“There are still more than two hundred Broadmoor escapees out there, Jamie, and you’ve seen with your own eyes exactly what they’re capable of. The normal vamps are getting bolder by the minute, Dracula is getting stronger and stronger, and we have no idea where he is, or whether Henry Seward is even still alive. So I hope you can understand why I cannot authorise having an able man sitting in this base twiddling his damn thumbs.”
Jamie tried one last time. “I understand, sir. Will you at least let me send him down for psychological assessment? That might be enough. Sir.”
“Fine,” said Holmwood. “Do whatever you need to. But the next time you go out, he goes with you.”
“Yes, sir,” said Jamie, through gritted teeth. “Thank you, sir.”
Jamie pulled the door to the Interim Director’s quarters shut behind him and saw Jack Williams leaning against the opposite wall, an expression of mild concern on his face.
“Everything OK?” asked Jack.
“Fine,” he replied, forcing a smile. “It was just the Morton thing. No big deal.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure,” said Jamie, and started to walk down the corridor. “Don’t worry about it, seriously. Especially right now. Can you believe Jacob? It’s incredible.”
Jack widened his eyes exaggeratedly as he fell in beside his friend. “No shit,” he replied. “I don’t think this has ever happened before.”
“A descendant being turned?” asked Jamie. Jack had joined the Department in more peaceful times and had completed the entire thirteen-month-long training programme that all Operators were supposed to pass; as a result, his knowledge of Blacklight’s history was usually far greater than Jamie’s.
“I’m pretty sure,” said Jack. “And no active descendant has ever been turned, I’m absolutely sure of that. A lot of them have died, but none have been turned.”
A lot of them have died, thought Jamie, himself a descendant of the founders. Thanks for that, Jack. Seriously.
“It’s big,” he said. “Holmwood sending you after him. That’s big.”
“I guess so,” replied Jack. “It shouldn’t be any different really. He’s an escapee like any other. I just have to keep my mouth shut about it.”
“Still,” persisted Jamie. “Of all the people in the room, Cal picked you to take care of it. You should feel great about that, mate. Really you should.”
Jack smiled. “I am pretty pleased,” he said. “It must mean I’ve been doing something right these last few months.”
Jamie, who knew exactly how highly regarded Jack Williams was by every single member of the Department, refused to dignify his friend’s comment with a verbal response; he merely tilted his head and raised his eyebrows.
“Yeah, all right,” said Jack, a wide grin on his face. “My squad are super-cool vampire-destroying ninjas and Holmwood would have been crazy to pick anyone else. Better?”
“Better,” said Jamie, returning his friend’s smile. They walked on until they reached the lift at the end of the Level 0 corridor. Jack pushed the button and they waited in comfortable silence for it to arrive.
“We don’t see each other very often, Jack,” said Jamie, suddenly. “It’s not surprising, given everything that’s going on around here, but still. It’s a shame.”
“It is,” said Jack. The lift arrived, and the two Operators stepped inside. “I don’t feel like I see anyone apart from my squad these days. It’s hard.”
“I know,” said Jamie. “I get back from operations and all I ever want to do is sleep.”
“Do you miss Larissa?” asked Jack.
“Of course I do,” said Jamie. “But even when she was here, it was getting harder and harder to find time to see her. And now she’s on the other side of the world. I get why she’s there and I’m happy she seems to be having a good time. But yeah, I miss her.”
“She’ll be home soon, though, right?” asked Jack. “And in the meantime, we need to hang out. Let’s make it happen. Breakfast, or lunch, or something. Maybe tomorrow?”
Jamie nodded. “Definitely. Tomorrow.”
The lift slowed to a stop and opened its doors on Level B. Jamie considered giving Jack a brief hug, but decided against it. “See you later,” he said instead, and headed for his quarters.
“See you, Jamie,” shouted Jack, as the lift doors closed.
As the members of the Zero Hour Task Force headed for the lifts that would take them back to their quarters, Paul Turner strode away in the opposite direction.
He had been asleep when Jacob Scott knocked on the door to his quarters, but now he was wide awake: the sad, sordid business of Albert Harker had banished the last of his tiredness. Turner found it hard to sleep at the best of times, more so than ever following
the death of his son; where he had once taken advantage of every furlough to drive home and spend the night with Caroline, he now refused to leave the Loop except on Blacklight business. There were too many things that required his attention, too much to do if he was to make sure that what had happened to Shaun never happened to anyone else’s child.
Caroline was bearing up as well as could be expected, given the catastrophic double loss she had suffered during that one terrible night, and was beginning to slowly resemble her former self. She was a Seward and had known more than her share of hardships, although losing both her son and her brother had tested the limits of her endurance. Paul knew that neither of them were truly dealing with Shaun’s death; their grief was still too fresh, too vast. But they were united by a shared sense of duty that got them through each day.
There was work to be done. Mourning would have to wait.
Paul Turner loved his wife more deeply and completely than any Operator in the Department would have believed, and had loved his son exactly the same way. The loss of Shaun was a yawning hole in the very centre of his being, one that continually threatened to pull him down; only his remarkable reserves of willpower kept him moving, kept him putting one foot in front of the other, as he was doing now.
The Security Officer strode through the noisy, bustling Intelligence Division and keyed open the door that led into ISAT. The reception desk was manned, as always, and he nodded at the Operator behind it; the man straightened up in his chair and nodded in return. Turner walked across the small reception area and pushed open the door to the lounge, intending to spend the quiet hours until the day’s interviews commenced drinking coffee, reading over the previous day’s reports, and avoiding thinking about his wife and son. As a result, he was surprised to find Kate Randall lying on the lounge’s sofa when he pushed open the door. She put down the folder she was reading and smiled broadly at him.