Duel Nature

by John Conroe

  Chapter 23

  Stewart told us he had enough food for thought and then prepared to leave. I asked one final question.

  “What about AIR. Gentis told me that they’ve killed more terrorists than the rest of the government put together. Is that true?”

  “It may well be, Chris. They’ve killed a great many high level terrorist leaders…also several hundred innocent bystanders and US personnel,” he said. “They are utterly ruthless and think nothing of sacrificing noncombatants and allies. The President has ordered another smaller taskforce to hunt them down and root them out.”

  “He also has a subgroup of Taskforce 17 that concentrates on just Chris and me,” Tanya said.

  Looking at her blank faced for a minute, Stewart shook his head. “Yes my dear he does, but I’m thinking the whole damn Taskforce should concentrate on you two…er..three,” he said glancing down at the loveseat-sized were grizzly on the floor.

  “Director Stewart, would you be so kind as to give my resignation to the President?” Gina said, handing him an envelope. She had borrowed pen, paper and envelope from Gramps.

  The Director raised his bushy white eyebrows, looking a lot like Mark Twain.

  “That is a precipitous decision, my dear. Are you certain?” he asked.

  “Yes, I am. He doesn’t trust my judgment and doesn’t listen to my advice. Also, he is correct in assuming that I’m ‘compromised’ if he means that my loyalties lie with Chris, Tanya and company. I know which side of the Good vs. Evil thing I stand on,” she said with conviction.

  He looked at her thoughtfully, then nodded. He turned to leave, but Gramps spoke before he got out the door.

  “What will you recommend?”

  Stewart looked back at him for a long moment, long enough that I thought he might not answer.

  “The truth, Mr. Gordon, at least as I see it. An attack on your grandson here carries more negatives than positives in my estimation. At best it will start a war with a nation that has penetrated every other nation on earth and can gut the US economy at will. At worst….?,” he looked my way, eyes narrowed, “…well, let’s just say that I’m having trouble imagining all the bad things that could result from a failed attempt…and I have a vivid imagination.”

  I didn’t tell him the interesting ideas that Grim had shown me about the satellites overhead. Better to hold some things back.

  ***

  With Stewart and gang gone, Tanya and I made sure Gramps was okay, a condition that was obvious by the energy and vigor he showed cleaning up the kitchen. He then insisted on heading out to see how his farm was doing.

  I looked at my vampire after Gramps had driven off in his beloved six-wheeled ATV. “You probably added several years to his life by giving him your blood,” I stated.

  “It may be more than that. Dr. Singh thinks that my blood is several magnitudes more effective than other vampires. I may have added several decades to his life,” she answered, smugly. Her blue eyes narrowed, focusing on my throat and the pulse in my neck. “But I would rather talk about your blood,” she said with a sly, hungry grin.

  I put one hand over my neck and attempted to look scared. She laughed. “Of course if you’re reluctant, I could always see if one of the Pack wants to donate. Werewolves are so very fit!” she said, lasciviously.

  I growled involuntarily at the thought, then moved, scooping her up and hauling her to my old bedroom.

  ***

  After Tanya’s snack and all that followed, we visited the Pack next door to see how they were getting on.

  Kelly showed off the transformed milk room which had become the production facility for the line of natural pemmican bars she and two of the wolves made. The modern pemmican recipe that I had shown her had been tweaked and improved, quickly becoming a big hit through the New York Pack’s chain of sporting goods stores. Lupine Sports had initially placed the product in the hiking and camping section of their stores where it was a good addition to the other hiking foods. But the energy dense treats had found favor with the martial arts side of the store as a quick pick me up.

  “Beef is the mainstay, but venison flavored is in the most demand. We’re just about ready to roll out bison and elk flavors,” Kelly told me while I looked over the sales numbers she had provided me. My review was cursory as I had faith in the weres and I wasn’t overly concerned about my investment in the business. The startup money I had supplied had been found money; money realized from a bet.

  Tanya took the report from my hands and analyzed it in a glance.

  “Kelly, your sales have tripled!” she said.

  The tall Alpha looked pleased at her words. “Yeah, we really can’t keep up. This space isn’t big enough,” she said with a sigh.

  “You should expand,” Tanya said. Our link told me that her business sense was thoroughly intrigued.

  “That’s an issue. I’ve been trying to talk Brett into getting a loan from his father. I found a mothballed meat packing plant nearby that would be perfect and fairly cheap. Getting a bank loan is out of the question, none of the local banks will entertain the idea…too new. Brett is reluctant to ask his father for anything more than the distribution help he’s already provided. Now I’ve got other sporting goods companies asking for the product and I can’t supply it.”

  Tanya and I exchanged a glance. “We’ll loan you the money. Write up a request and shoot it to Chris by email. Rates are low right now, so ask for enough to really do what you need to,” she said.

  Kelly looked excited. “Really?”

  “Yeah, really. I’ve actually seen the in-store response at your father-in-law’s headquarter store, plus these numbers look great. I’ve….we’ve got money sitting around not earning enough interest so this would be good for us as well,” Tanya said.

  I’m okay financially, but Tanya’s wealth was in the big leagues. I didn’t pay much attention to money, letting my grandfather manage my trust and letting Tanya handle my Coven pay. All of my living expenses were handled by the Coven, so I wasn’t even sure how much money had built up in my vampire run accounts.

  Kelly looked at me for confirmation of Tanya’s words. “Don’t look at me – she’s the financial genius!”

  “It’s true, he doesn’t have much interest in these matters,” my vampire sighed, giving me a mock glare. I shrugged – what could I say?

  The sound of a vehicle engine caught my ear – Gramps on his ATV approaching from the trail to the farm. Thirty seconds later he roared up in a cloud of dust and virtually hopped out of the six-wheeler. Kelly looked thoughtful as she watched the spring in his step then glanced first at Tanya than me. Tanya suddenly found the three page report to be utterly fascinating and I wasted no time intercepting my spring chicken of a grandfather.

  “Hey Chris, Len came up with an idea. Can you leave these two alone for awhile?”

  I glanced at the ladies. “They probably won’t get into too much trouble…”

  Tanya crossed her arms. “Bullshit, Gordon! You and your devious grandsire are like kids in a dynamite store!”

  I took a moment to reflect on how very far my vampire’s snark factor had come since I met her.

  She smirked at me.

  “And remember….he’s supposed to be resting!” she admonished. Gramps rocked on his heels, hands behind his back, trying to look innocent.

  “Yes Dear,” I said, earning myself a much darker glare.

  Gramps and I hopped into the six-wheeler, the old man spinning the little rig around in a circle, then sending it rumbling down the rutted path.

  “So whatcha got?” I asked.

  “Whadda ya know about EFP’s?” he asked.

  “EFP’s? Is that related to ESP?” I asked puzzled.

  “Not even remotely. Come on –time to hit the workshop!” he said, making it sound like the Batcave.

  Chapter 24

  We found Len in the farm’s workshop which looked like what you would get if a carpenter and a mechanic went into the employmen
t of a mad scientist. Mostly used to fix various tractors and mechanical farm gear, with the occasional building repair project thrown in, it also housed my Grandfather’s reloading equipment and acted as storage for outdoor gear.

  Len was using a machine press to punch out little discs of copper from some old metal roofing. He had various sizes of them ranging from an inch in diameter to some that must have been three inches across. Near his left elbow, an Apple iPad was propped up on its folded cover, looking incredibly out of place.

  Taking off his safety goggles, Len looked my way, then beckoned us over to the bench.

  “EFP’s Chris, ever heard of them?” Len asked. I shook my head.

  “Explosively formed projectiles. It’s a variation of a shaped charge, used to attack armored objects from a distance,” he said.

  “Okay, I know that modern anti-armor rockets usually have one or more shaped charges to blow holes in tank armor, but a shaped charge has to be actually touching the surface doesn’t it?” I asked. Growing up the table talk at the farm would have been considered very masculine, covering everything from politics, sports, hunting season, to modern warfare methods, with the occasional farm topic thrown in for good measure.

  “Right. EFP’s turn shaped charges into distance weapons,” Len said.

  I had seen them use shaped charges to blast a field boulder into pebbles and remove a giant tree stump. Shaping the explosives into a concave cone directed the explosive forces in the direction of the open end of the cone. Flower pots were perfect forms for packing with plastic explosive because of the cone shape.

  “Here’s the difference,” Len said holding up a disc of copper. “A slightly concave liner of copper or steel is placed over the end of the shaped charge. When triggered, the explosive punches the metal into a bullet shape lump of molten metal traveling at supersonic speeds. They tend to punch through armor and spall metal bits all over the inside of armored vehicles. Big problem for our troops in ‘Stan and Iran.”

  Gramps picked up the iPad and triggered a video that was already cued up. The display showed a graphic of how the projectile was molded by the explosion and then displayed many real life examples of the effects on US vehicles.

  “So you think I should be making up explosive devices?” I asked, scratching my head.

  They both shook their heads, but Gramps was the one who answered. “No, we thought maybe you could pretty much duplicate the explosive part,” he said, waving his hands in the air like the talent show magician.

  “Oh!” I said, suddenly catching on. “Oh! Maybe I could at that.”

  It took the rest of the afternoon to figure out and develop some degree of skill, but by focusing my aura the right way, I could turn a three inch disc of copper into an inch and a half diameter bullet that easily punched through two inches of cold rolled steel plate.

  The best technique was to dimple the disc with my fingers so it was slightly concave. Then if I stood it upright on a fence or wall (chewing gum provided a field expedient stand) with the raised dimple pointing at me, I could clap my aura encrusted hands together and fire off the projectile. I had used the clap before to squash hellhounds and other nasties so that part was easy. The aiming part was a lot harder.

  Basically, I could hit stuff ten or twenty feet away, but further than that and my chances dropped like a lead balloon.

  After my third miss, I turned to find Tanya watching from behind the two old men. Noticing my stare, they turned to find her within a few feet of them. Len jumped, clearly not comfortable with her stealth. Gramps just sighed.

  She smirked at their reactions.

  “Trying to induce another heart attack, T?” Gramps asked. Len was nowhere near that nonchalant. He understood what she was and knew, theoretically, that she was on our side, but Len had lived through a lot of dangerous times by listening to his instincts. I’m pretty sure his instincts screamed at him everytime she was near.

  Tanya frowned at my grandfather’s words, then slid forward like smoke. She patted his check, leaned in close holding his eyes with hers and said, “Never. Ever!” Then she smiled and continued on to me.

  “Can I try?” she asked. I raised both eyebrows at the thought, then gestured for her to take a stab.

  Inspecting the various discs, she selected one of the smallest, about an inch in diameter. A slight touch of one well-manicured, steel hard fingernail dented the disc like a miniature Chinese hat.

  She examined my launch station, which to the uninformed might appear to be a two-by-four driven end on into the dirt on the small handgun range just outside the shop. Wrinkling her perfect nose at the wad of peppermint chewing gum on the top of the post, she bent over to position her disc.

  As her back was to us and her jeans were of the low-rise, tight fitting type, our gazes simultaneously dropped to the perfect form on display.

  Without turning around, she tsked. “Men!”

  Len and Gramps immediately looked embarassed but I just grinned at her with one eyebrow raised when she finally glanced back. My link told me she was far from offended.

  The disc set up to her satisfaction, she stepped back three feet, bent over again (which caused another round of involuntary head tilting on my part, the old men were careful to look away) and sang a single note.

  While my hearing is well beyond human, I still remain tone deaf, so I can’t tell you what range the note was in, but the effect was a folded projectile moving slightly faster than the speed of sound that twanged off the armor, leaving a respectable gouge.

  She frowned, clearly disappointed.

  I patted her shoulder. “It’s okay, you have other talents,” I said with a smirk then danced away. She was faster than I, her open handed smack on my shoulder sounding like a gunshot. Okay, note to self: do not patronize vampire princess.

  “I should be able to do better,” she hissed.

  Len, who looked very pale, cleared his throat.

  “Why?” he asked, then hurried on at her glare. “I mean why try to make a projectile at all? You probably don’t need them.”

  “Explain, please,” she said, still frowning but interested.

  “Well, you have control of your voice right? Theoretically, the sound waves you form should be just as deadly,” he said.

  Just what the hell were these guys reading at night? I made a note to check to coffee table for textbooks.

  Gramps was nodding. “Popular Science had an article about directed sound weapons the military is exploring. It’s in the house somewhere.”

  “Directed sound weapons?” Tanya asked intrigued.

  “Yeah, the military is looking at sound as an area denial weapon that’s nonlethal. Certain levels of sound that create discomfort and pain. You could likely do that, but what I was thinking of was a small sorta ‘packet’ of sound that would punch a hole in something hard,” Len said, still nervous.

  “Like when you blew a hole in the rock in that mine…in Mexico,” I said.

  Her frown cleared like a raincloud blown away in a breeze. “Oh! I had forgotten that. I was very angry at the time,” she said, thoughtful.

  Gramps and Len exchanged a glance with eyebrows raised, clearly not comfortable with the mental image of an angry Tanya.

  The vampire in question was lost in recollection, but after a moment she got a ‘eureka’ expression. Walking close to the metal plate that was her target she started to bend over, stopped and glared back at us then stood straight instead. She sang a note. The metal sang back. She tried another note, with more power. The plate tinged in response. Nodding to herself, she ran up the scale and back down stopping at a particular note. A deep breath, a slight bend at the waist and a single powerful tone exploded out of her throat. The metal ‘spanged’, a bright spot of light showing in its center.

  The three of us walked up to her and her target. A dime sized hole with clean edges had been punched straight through.

  “Hah Christian!” she said in triumph. “Leonard is correct. I don’t need stupid
pieces of metal!”

  “No dear you don’t,” I agreed, looking at the damaged plate.

  “How are you going to carry discs of metal around anyway?” she asked, a bit dismissively.

  I raised one eyebrow at her, reached in my jeans pocket and pulled out a quarter. A quick squeeze of my fingers bent the coin. A slight toss in the air and a clap as it came down sent a silver colored streak into the earthen backstop where a ten inch diameter crater appeared in the moist dirt.

  She raised one eyebrow back at me, then grinned slyly. “Not bad,” she allowed. “But I always have my voice.”