INCURSION: Knightmare (Knight's Bane Trilogy Book 1)

by Bryan Donihue

  12

  HEAVY

  NORFOLK, VIRGINIA.

  It was closer to two hours later when Jonas and Agent Smith walked out the front of the Norfolk Correctional Facility. It had taken less than an hour to get Jonas released into Agent Smith's custody. The sheriff had complained to the prosecutor, and the prosecutor had called a local judge to get the transfer halted. Before the ink was dry on the injunction, he had received a call from the Virginia Attorney General and from the Governor's office, letting the judge know that enforcing the injunction would start an avalanche of trouble. The judge nullified his own injunction.

  With that roadblock out of the way, the prosecutor could not stop the prisoner custody transfer. But when Agent Smith had demanded the personal effects, including the murder weapons, the sheriff had thrown every obstacle he had into the fray. From administrative "delays" to "missing documents," it had taken Agent Smith over an hour to retrieve the personal effects from the sheriff's office. In the end, it had required a threat from Agent Smith to bring in a team from both the Attorney General's office and the Department of Homeland Security to perform a complete audit and civil rights check on the sheriff's department, all of the members of the department, and the correctional facility.

  When Jonas finally received his clothing and gear, he stepped into a restroom to change. As he emerged fully clothed and equipped, Agent Smith was forced to calm the sheriff again just to avoid a near riot from the law enforcement present. As they stepped outside, the local press moved en masse toward them, shouting a cacophony of questions. Both Agent Smith and Jonas stayed silent as they moved through the crowd. The reporters quickly lost interest on the pair as the sheriff and prosecutor stepped out of the doors and announced a press conference.

  Agent Smith and Jonas climbed into the back of the blacked-out Chevy Suburban. Timothy turned around and smiled at the two men, extending his hand to Jonas. "It's good to meet you, Mr. Vanhof. My name is Timothy." He turned toward his boss and said, "Sir, we have a developing situation in D.C. I forwarded a summary to your phone, but it is something we should move on quickly. I do believe you'll be interested."

  Agent Smith nodded at Timothy and said, "I'll trust you judgement. I'll read up as we head that direction. Mr. Vanhof, I fear we may be a little delayed before we get you started in your new life."

  Timothy nodded and turned around. He put the truck in drive and pulled out. Reaching down, he flipped a series of switches on the dashboard. At the front and back of the truck, red and blue emergency lights strobed. Under the hood, a very special box sent out a signal ahead of the vehicle. As the modified truck neared an intersection, the box changed the lights at the intersection to green as they were about to cross through it, clearing the path for the vehicle. As traffic began to clear out of their way, Timothy sped up. As they reached the top of the entrance ramp on I-64, the roar of the big V-8 filled the air as Timothy reached a cruising speed well above the posted limits.

  IN A NEIGHBORHOOD just outside Georgetown University stood a historic brownstone. Outside that brownstone a line of police cars and a SWAT van blocked the street. Both ends of the block were cordoned off with police barricades and officers, and media crews waited impatiently just outside the barricades.

  The blacked out SUV rolled to a stop, the vehicle's lights still flashing, and Agent Smith and Jonas both got out of the truck, leaving Timothy to wait. The pair walked up to the nearest officer, and Agent Smith drew out his credentials.

  "Excuse me, officer. Department of Homeland Security. Who is the officer in charge right now?"

  The officer glanced at the badge and then at Agent Smith. "What do you guys want with this one? Just some nut job that whacked his parents. Lieutenant Porter is in charge; he's over there by the SWAT van."

  Agent Smith thanked him and strode purposefully toward the SWAT van. On the trip from Norfolk, Agent Smith had called up the initial reports and found something very interesting. A direct Incursion alarm had tripped the sensors in D.C., indicating that at least one creature had stepped directly through into the heart of the city. Signature types had indicated that it was some form of vampire. The alert had been quickly corroborated with a 911 call from the location in question. The massive array of sensors in the area noted shortly after the arrival that the creature or creatures had been terminated. That level of prowess had interested Agent Smith immensely.

  Arriving at the SWAT van, Agent Smith again flashed his credentials. "Agents Smith and Vanhof, Department of Homeland Security. What happened, Lieutenant?"

  The lieutenant looked long and hard at Smith. "This has nothing to do with Homeland Security. This was a Vet who went nuts and killed his parents. Caught him with those freaky looking knives in his hands, just sitting and sobbing on the couch. I had to call SWAT in to talk him down.

  "This guy is a Vet, Spec Ops. According to his jacket, he's a staff sergeant in the Eighty-Second Airborne. It sounds like he was home visiting his family, and he just kinda went nuts. He'll probably claim some sort of PTSD. Sick S.O.B. killed his parents, his little sister, and apparently a couple other guys whose heads we found. He then starts spewing some BS cockamamie crap about monsters and bodies disappearing. I think he got a hold of some bad drugs and just lost it.

  "I went ahead and notified the Army, but like I said, this isn't Homeland Security's business here."

  Agent Smith listened intently, thought for a moment, and calmly and politely said, "I'll be the judge of that. Where is the suspect now?"

  The lieutenant shook his head. "You Feds are all the same. The guy's still inside, but it's an active crime scene. You guys can talk to him at the precinct."

  Agent Smith frowned, and his words turned quiet and cold. "No, lieutenant. As I explained, we'll speak to him here. We will maintain the integrity of your scene, but we will talk to him."

  Agent Smith walked toward the house, and Jonas quickly followed. The lieutenant waived to the officer standing in front of the door, "It's OK, Sam. Let them through." The lieutenant muttered under his breath, questioning the human parentage of the agents as they walked out of earshot.

  Agent Smith and Jonas walked into the house. Noting the narrow rooms and corridors common to brownstone houses, they walked to the living room, breaking up a cluster of officers and medics, all hovering around an African American man that was handcuffed and sitting on the couch. Even sitting down, the man's bulk was imposing, and the handcuffs seemed tiny and fragile around his wrists.

  Flashing his badge again, Smith announced, "I'm Agent Smith, and this is Agent Vanhof. Department of Homeland Security. I need to speak with this suspect. Alone. Please clear the area."

  Despite a buzz of murmuring in the room, the officers and medics slowly filed out of the room, with one of the SWAT members remaining behind to stand in the open doorway of the house. As they were leaving, Jonas noticed that one of the officers had an evidence bag containing two large curved knives. Reaching out, he said, "Excuse me officer. Can I have those for a moment? Don't worry. Chain of Custody is still intact."

  The officer handed Jonas the weapons, and Agent Smith nodded approvingly. Agent Smith turned back to the man on the couch and spoke while he consulted information on his phone.

  "As you heard, I'm Agent Smith, and this is Agent Vanhof. Could you tell me what happened?"

  "I think I'd like my lawyer now," the large man's voice rumbled.

  As Smith was talking to the suspect, Jonas looked around the room. Noticing evidence markers laid out, he knelt by a severed head that was laying on its side. Jonas reached down and slowly lifted the lips apart, baring the teeth. Not surprised, he revealed a set of large, pointed teeth that would look more at home on an animal than on a human. Looking around, he saw a small pool of fluid that looked like it was disappearing as he watched. The thick black ichor seemed to be melting and drifting away like smoke. Nodding, he stood up and walked over to Smith. He leaned in close and whispered a few words in Smith's ear. Smith nodded and Jonas sat down
and began to examine the knives.

  Smith turned back to the suspect on the couch. "Are you Staff Sergeant Arthur Murphy? Currently assigned to the Eighty-Second Airborne Division?" When the big man nodded, Smith continued. "Despite your troubled past, you excelled in the Army. You are a natural leader, and your CO thinks very highly of you.

  "The police seem to think that you went stark-raving mad and that you will take the weasel way out and claim it was some sort of PTSD. They say you came home hopped up on drugs - probably crack. You then butchered your family and those two headless guys. Are they right? Are you just another lunatic Vet with PTSD?"

  The man stared at Agent Smith intensely. The anger in the man's voice was palpable, and he appeared to barely keep it under control. Through gritted teeth, the man spat the words out, "No sir. I am not suffering PTSD. Nor did I kill my family. In fact, I found these two guys attacking my family. I was so mad I guess I killed them. But I never killed my family."

  Smith looked at the man as he tried desperately to hold himself together. He knelt down in front of the suspect and gently, quietly said, "I believe you. In fact, I have a different theory. I believe that the two headless men savagely attacked your family. You fought with them, one at a time. It looks like you sent one of them through the wall over there and somehow found those special knives. Once you had those knives in your hand, I would say that you got the first one and then the second one. In the end, I bet you had to decapitate them to stop them. In fact, I would bet that when you decapitated them, the bodies just sort of... dissolved into the goo that is over there. Since then, it's been slowly evaporating. Am I right?"

  The man looked at Smith incredulously. "That's almost exactly how it happened. I don't know why I decapitated them... I just did. How did you know?"

  Smith was about to answer when the other agent spoke up.

  "Agent Smith, I think you should see this." Jonas held up the knives he had removed from the evidence bag.

  Smith walked over and looked at each blade carefully. Jonas pointed out faded script that looked like it was a combination of Chinese and another, much more ancient script. He then handed them back to Jonas. "Great eyes," Smith said. "I'm not sure I would have seen that myself."

  Smith walked back over to Arthur. "Sergeant Murphy, where did you get the knives?"

  Arthur looked up, questions fluttering across his face. "They were given to me personally by a Nepalese tribal leader that we worked with. I filed all the correct import paperwork with the Army. In fact, I have the declarations around here somewhere."

  "I believe you," Smith said. "You have no idea how lucky you were to have those blades today. I would bet that these khukuris are probably what helped you kill your parents' killers. Actually, if it was a tribal leader, chances are he knew that you would need to have the pair of blades available."

  Smith stood and continued talking. "Staff Sergeant Murphy, I'm going to make this offer only once..."

  LIEUTENANT PORTER WAS JUST WALKING up to the house to kick out the Feds when they began to leave. Between the two Feds walked the suspect who was not in handcuffs. Porter slammed to a halt and yelled at the men to stop where they were. Drawing his sidearm, Porter yelled for the tactical team. Jonas felt Staff Sergeant Murphy tense up.

  Porter barked at Agent Smith, "Stop right there. That man is in the custody of the Metropolitan Police Department. You have no authority to release him or to remove him."

  By now, the tactical team and several officers had come running to the lieutenant's aid. Smith, Jonas, and Arthur were quickly surrounded by officers with their sidearms drawn. While none were directly pointed at the Homeland Security Agents, the implied threat of the drawn weapons made the tension palpable.

  Agent Smith held up a hand and calmly addressed Lieutenant Porter. "This man is now under the supervision and jurisdiction of the Department of Homeland Security. If you have any doubts about my authority in this matter, you can call Homeland Security with my badge number. Let's all calm down. Make the call, Lieutenant."

  Porter reached out and took the agent's credentials. He grabbed his cellphone and called his Captain. Quickly and succinctly summarizing the situation, he asked his superior to contact his Homeland Security liaison. After what seemed like an eternity later for the lieutenant, he received a call on his cell from the Captain.

  "Lieutenant Porter. This is Captain Meyers. Homeland Security has control and jurisdiction of that scene. Follow their lead. Agent Smith is the SAC on this one. If Smith tells you the suspect is leaving with him, escort him to his car."

  "But, Captain," the lieutenant stammered. "How can they get away with this. This isn't federal. It's a nutcase Vet. This one should be ours. Have we heard from the Army yet?"

  The captain cut him off. "Listen, Bill. I hate this as much as you do, but I have the Chief breathing down my neck on this one. The Director of Homeland Security answered the call on this one directly. Just suck it up and deal with it... they're Feds."

  Lieutenant Port hung up from his call and holstered his sidearm. "Alright, guys, stand down," he announced to all who were present. "It's official. Homeland Security is the lead on this one; we're just cleanup."

  Approaching Smith, Porter continued, "Sorry about that, Agent Smith. This is just so... irregular."

  "I understand, Lieutenant Porter," said Agent Smith as he smiled graciously. "I'd be just as upset as you are right now. If you would have your people continue processing the scene, I would appreciate it. Have your forensic people work the house. Also, if you would have your M.E. perform the initial autopsy, my office will be in touch with your department for the findings. Have all reports forwarded to my office at this number." Smith handed Porter a business card.

  "I'll be taking charge of Staff Sergeant Murphy here, as well as taking the weapons into my possession. Is there anything else you need from me?"

  "No, sir," Porter said as he shook his head. "I'll have the reports forwarded as soon as they get filed."

  With Arthur and Jonas trailing, Agent Smith walked toward the Suburban. Jonas climbed into the front passenger seat by Timothy while Smith and Arthur took seats in the back. Porter watched with a mixture of disgust and relief as the truck left the scene. He was glad to be rid of the Feds. He hated it when they interfered; it always caused him more headaches and paperwork.

  Signaling for the forensics team to join him, Porter began assigning tasks as he heard the roar of the big V8 engine take the Feds away.

  II

  MISSION

  13

  PIECES

  51,000 FEET OVER INDIANA.

  Gretchen Massey, the Knightmare Team Liaison, grabbed a silver briefcase from the storage compartment in the back of the Citation X and returned to her seat at the small conference table. Flying just under the speed of sound, the plane was much faster than a larger commercial airliner, and the trip to Pueblo, Colorado, was nearly half-way over.

  After the flight attendant had seen to meals and the comfort of the passengers, the team had gathered around the active surface conference table for mission briefing and planning. John "Spooky" Smith brought up the maps of the area on the electronic surface of the table and began pointing out various land features and points of reference. He then posted all the medical examiner's reports and police files alongside the maps.

  Spooky looked across to the team leader and said, "Alright, boss. What's the plan?"

  Burt "Six" Holstein studied the maps and information laid out in front of the team. After paging quickly through the maps, he seemed to find what he was looking for. Looking at Gretchen, Six asked, "Gretchen, what kind of transportation will we have? Will it be equipped as a command post?"

  Gretchen consulted the notes on her secure phone and said, "Yes, sir. I have an armored command transport waiting for our arrival. Full mobile communications and control."

  The team leader nodded at the information and looked at the rest of the team. "Ok, team. Here's what I'm thinking. We will stay at this little
motel on the outskirts of town. Gretchen, can you arrange that?"

  Gretchen nodded and drew out her phone to make the call. Six continued, "We'll set up our staging and command center at the South Central Council of Governments center in Trinidad. The building should have a couple of spare rooms and is located across from the hospital. From what I understand, the forensic labs and the M.E.'s office are in that hospital. This will be our 'ops center.'

  "When we arrive, we'll meet with the sheriff and the mayor at the ops center. While there, I want you, God, up on the rooftop with your rifle. You are on overwatch until I need you on an entry team."

  Jesús "God" Rivera smiled and nodded. Turning to the team priest, he asked, "Doc, any clue what the best way to spot these guys is? Will they show up on night vision? Or thermal?"

  Noelle "Doc" Sorenson thought for a moment and consulted the leather-bound book in front of her. "I don't believe night vision will work. Thermal should work, instead. Vampires run colder than normal, and often colder than the climate around them. According to our records, the only time that they radiate any measurable heat is just after they have fed. This goes away quickly, and they soon return to their normal temps—usually around forty-five or fifty degrees."

  Six smiled at the information and turned to his electronics specialist. "Spooky, when we are set, launch the UAV and use the thermal to search for cold spots as well. Maybe we'll get lucky."

  Turning to Doc and Boomer, Six said, "Doc, I want you to go chat with the coroner. See if he's on the level, and see what he has to say. Boomer, I want you with her as backup."

  Doc nodded, and Rebekah "Boomer" Callahan asked a question, "Do you want me armed with the twelve gauge? Or with only my sidearm?"

  "Take your shotgun," Six responded. "Better safe than sorry. Your badge should clear up any authority issues. That goes for all of you. Everyone carries their primary rifle with them. I would rather get nasty looks than be defenseless against the monsters."