Rachel turned to de Vries, who wore a small grin, but did as he was told.
“Now, Rachel, if you will slowly rise to your feet, and walk directly to your left.”
“Flak? What’s going on?”
“Rach, just do it.”
Rachel stood, and moved to her left as Flak said, “Very good. As you probably already know, you’re being covered from four different directions, and even though only an idiot might not be able to tell that you’re a vampire, I trust you understand that every weapon trained on you is capable of killing you. Even if you managed to dodge, or deflect the first volley, eventually one will find its mark and you’ll be yesterday’s news. Are we clear on this?”
Rachel turned her head, but she couldn’t see anyone but de Vries, herself, and Flak in the room.
De Vries laughed, a soft, deep sound that seemed to fill the room like thunder.
“Is there something about this situation that you find amusing, Deadman?” The low growl in Flak’s voice made the hair on the back of Rachel’s neck stand on end.
De Vries’ laugh died to a chuckle. “Absolutely not. I’m impressed. I thought you and your compatriots were going to put on the full pageant for us. It shows an encouraging amount of self-control for you to handle things this way.”
Rachel shook her head. “Will somebody please tell me what the frag is going on here?”
De Vries turned his head in her direction, but his eyes never left Flak. “Your friend is very concerned about your safety, and obviously knows enough about me to comprehend that I could use a spell to influence your thoughts, or make you lie to him, or do whatever I desired. So he’s decided that until he has a better grasp on the situation, he’s going to remove you from the equation, at the same time limiting any possible retribution I might bring into play. Provided, of course, that I’m not who I’ve claimed to be, or that I mean you any harm. Does that about sum it up?”
Rachel looked to Flak, who gave her a tight, quick smile. “Close enough, Deadman.”
“Fine,” said de Vries, standing slowly. “Now, if you’ll be so good as to let the rest of your team come out of their hiding places, we can get down to business. I’ve been able to smell them since they came in, and I know exactly where every one of them is. I can also hear that the heartbeat of your elven mage has just increased slightly in tempo. Your human physical adept is holding steady, though I believe she will find that her weapon is useless against the barrier I have erected.”
De Vries sighed. “But I didn’t really ask Rachel to invite you for banter like this. Time is short, and while I’m sure you could easily spend the next twenty minutes trying to determine if I’m on the level, I think that would be less than prudent. So I propose we dispense with the preliminaries.”
For the first time since Flak had appeared in the room, Rachel saw a look of unease cross his face. “Just what did you have in mind?”
Though de Vries seemed not to move so much as a muscle, a small card appeared in his hand. “This is the private number of a person you know very well and whom you trust completely. He’s expecting your call.”
With a flick of the wrist, de Vries sent the card spinning toward Flak, who snatched it out of the air in a lightning motion, never taking his eyes off de Vries.
From off to her right, near the doorway of the kitchen, Rachel heard a soft, female voice say, “I got him, Flak.”
Rachel turned, but she couldn’t see where the voice came from. “Hey,” she said. “This is starting to freak me out a bit, all right, and just when I was beginning to think that nothing was ever going to freak me out again. So could we just knock it off with all this macho bulldrek and get down to business?”
Once again, Flak ignored her. He turned the card over in his hand, and Rachel saw his eyes go wide. “Wolf?” He looked back up at de Vries, who nodded.
“All right, everybody. Unpack.” Without another word, he slipped the card into his camouflage vest, as if he were returning a holy relic to its resting place.
Rachel turned just in time to see one person step in from the kitchen, one from near the front door, and one from the bedroom, How they had all gotten there without making any noise boggled her mind. All three were dressed like Flak, in camos and ski masks that hid their faces from view. All three carried high-tensile crossbows and tacticom gear.
De Vries smiled, as he looked around the room. “Excellent, my children. Everybody make yourself comfortable. The young lady and I have a very long story and a very short amount of time. According to information I’ve just received, we’ve been given another forty-eight hours, but beyond that, I cannot promise the survivability of the person we are going to rescue.”
13
Julius D’imato is officially listed as the number two man at Fratellanza, Inc. (see FBI File #894-656LY), though evidence suggests he is actually the brains behind much of the outfit’s success. During the two months his brother Marco D’imato (see FBI File #894-666LM) was recovering from the “accident” that left him a cripple, Julius D’imato managed to improve Fratellanza’s profit margin by forty-two percent.
–FBI File Access #894-676LM, Subject: Julius D’imato. Codeword: Brotherhood. Clearance: Classified Top Secret. Transmission intercept by Fracellanza deckers, 01 January 2059
Dust filled the high, cavernous ceiling of the huge Fratellanza owned warehouse near Devil’s Lake in Redmond. Early morning sunlight, streaming through the high, dirty windows, caught the motes of dust and made them dance in the air.
Throughout the warehouse, a small corporate army of fifty men hurried around equipment servicing weapons and the five large vehicles that dominated the center of the warehouse.
Julius D’imato stood in the center of all the activity, but was hardly aware of the men yelling to one another as they loaded four Citymaster riot vehicles. The main truck an Ares Mobmaster Command and Control vehicle, sat closest to the wall of the warehouse as four men finished arc-welding a massive steel wedge to the front.
Where are you? thought Julius. In his mind, he pictured Warren as he’d last seen him, at the funeral, his broad shoulders fixed, his jaw set in that angry line that always seemed to appear during family events. I should have made my move against Marco sooner Marco’s vampirism has put my son’s life in danger… that, and my lack of foresight.
Julius shook his head. This kind of self-recrimination wasn’t going to get him anywhere, and it certainly wasn’t going to get Warren back. When Warren was safely returned, then and only then would he consider how his own actions might have put his son’s life in danger.
Since the death of his wife, Rolanda, almost sixteen years before, Julius had done everything in his power to make sure Warren was safe and happy. Even as a teenager, Warren had fell an aversion to the family business and made no bones about it. The “covert warfare business,” he called it. And so the only way to make Warren happy was for Julius to allow him to become separate from the family and Fratellanza. Inc.
For just a moment. Julius let himself hate his brother. Ever since Marco’s infection, he’d become a different man. Though always ruthless, he’d also shown at least a modicum of familial sentiment. Now, even with Julius’ help to keep things under-wraps, Marco was like a machine. Caring about nothing but his own needs and designs. He hadn’t waited even a day after Derek’s death to begin badgering Julius about making Warren the next heir.
Julius had been concerned about the future of Fratellanza for some time now, Someone had to worry about the legacy of the family business. What with Marco’s increasing instability, Julius didn’t know what would happen next. Anyway, it was all in the hands of the lawyers now, and they were the best money could buy.
There was a shout from the back of the warehouse, in the direction of the soundproof room where Killian, Julius’ personal mage, had secreted himself almost five hours before.
It had been a long shot, trying ritual magic to find Warren, and Julius was still skeptical. However, he was also desperate. Ever
y feeler he’d put out on the street had come back null.
Julius walked quickly back to the far end of the warehouse, stepping around men in street armor who were loading guns and ammo into the back of the other vehicles.
Killian was a short man, with wire-rim glasses and a balding head that made him look more like a highschool English teacher than a gifted magician. He was being supported by two guards and his face was covered with dirt and sweat, but there was no mistaking the look of triumph on the little man’s face.
“Got him.” Killian’s voice was deep, a rumble that seemed completely out of place with his timid demeanor, “He’s still alive, and he’s close.”
Julius felt a loose trembling hit his stomach first, then spread to the rest of his limbs. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been, until that moment. For a second he didn’t say anything, and Killian looked at him strangely, the look of triumph replaced by one of concern.
“Where?” It was all Julius could manage, his voice strangled in his throat.
Killian shook off the two men who were supporting him, and came over to Julius. In a quiet voice he said. “You all right?”
Julius nodded, suddenly impatient with everything but struggling to keep his cool. “Where?” he repeated.
Killian nodded. “In the astral, Street signs are impossible to read, but there was no mistaking the geography. He’s in some kind of research compound in Hell’s Kitchen, which puts him about two hours from here, counting checkpoints and the like. I couldn’t get too close. The place is guarded like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Everything from alarms to paranormals. The background count there is nothing short of explosive. I got a headache just scanning the place. It’s going to take everything you got to bust him out.”
Julius nodded again, and felt the strength flow back into his body. Now that he had a concrete objective, an actual enemy to face, he was on track. It was the waiting that had almost killed him.
He nodded. “I want you to get together with Biggs. He’s in charge of the decker. Narrow his range of search for him, and get me as much info as you can on this place, everything from tactical to shipping requirements. I want to know what kind of deliveries they get, how much food they eat, and what they use to wipe their hoops. Everything. And I want it an hour ago.”
Even through Killian’s smile. Julius could see the exhaustion. Julius put a hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. “Good work. After you’ve talked to Biggs, get yourself some rest.”
Julius turned to the men all around him in the warehouse. “All right, everybody! Listen up!”
The raucous noise calmed quickly, until the only sound filling the room was the dull whine of the portable generators.
“We got a locale, and within the hour, we should have more tech info. If this place pans out the way I think it will, we’ll hit them tonight, under cover of dark. I want all vehicles running silent by noon. We’ll take them quick and quiet, and hit them so hard and fast they won’t even know we’re there until they’re already dead.”
Silence was the only reply. These men had been hand-picked by Julius, and they were all professionals who knew the risks. But they were also the most loyal men Julius knew. There wasn’t one of them who wouldn’t lay down his life for this job, because each one knew that if the tables were turned, the same effort would be made to rescue him.
Julius gazed around at his men once again, and wondered how many of them wouldn’t be coming back. If the place was fortified the way Killian said, this whole thing might end up being a blood bath. Still, these were competent warriors with skill and experience, If anybody could pull this off, it was them.
“All right that’s it. Back to work.”
With that, the warehouse exploded back into activity.
14
In his younger days, Martin de Vries was known as an exceptional mage who became an initiate of Ordo Maximus while completing his hermetic studies at Oxford. Then he dropped out and began to finance his own researches into magical threats. His contemporaries found him paranoid, antisocial and obsessive, but de Vries was convinced a secret society of vampires was planning to take over the whole world for their own insane purposes. Despite the ridicule he met at every turn, he undertook a series of one-man vampire hunts in Europe between 2040 and 2051. Then he completely vanished from sight for some eighteen months.
–Posted to Shadowland BBS by Doktor Freeman and the Deatheore Kid, 22 March 2055
Just inside the perimeter of Hell’s Kitchen, with the dim pool of the only working street light showing dry, gray dust swirling over her feet, Sinunu Sol stood to one side of the stepvan, painting her albino flesh with a multicolored camo stick. With each angry stroke of the stick across the flesh of her face, she had to up-end the stick and look into the small mirror on the stick’s bottom. The scars on her face tended to cause the camo to bunch up and leave tracks that might give her heat signature away to anyone peeking into the thermal spectrum.
“Damn it,” she said.
Out of the back of the van, Truxa Fin poked her head around the corner. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a tight French braid showing off her delicately pointed ears. Truxa was dressed similarly to Sinunu, swirling desert blacks that seemed to shift into shades of gray with each movement and down around her neck rested a face-covering balaclava hood with built-in air filter and tacticom gear. Truxa was small for an elf, one of the things Sinunu liked about her. Somehow, Truxa made the androgynous battle wear seem feminine, almost sexy. “Sin, baby, what’s wrong?”
Sinunu looked up, and couldn’t help but smile. It was like that every time she saw Truxa. A calm, giddy feeling Sinunu had no control over. “Nothing. Just a little bent about having to babysit the bimbo. She shouldn’t even be coming along.”
Truxa smiled and leaned down, kissing Sinunu firmly on the lips, letting her soft tongue slide gently into the bigger woman’s mouth. After a second, Truxa pulled back. “We all know how you feel, baby, but Sandman is almost in, and you need to be quiet, ‘kay?”
Suddenly, Sinunu felt something stir deep in her gut, something black and ugly. More ugly than any of her teachers at the White Oak Foundation would ever have been able to put there. It was an instinct that was undeniable. With an almost vicious gesture, Sinunu grabbed Truxa by the shoulder and lifted her easily. Pulling her close, Sinunu kissed her, hard. She poured everything she felt into that kiss, everything she had never really been able to put into words about how much she loved Truxa.
After a second, Truxa melted into her embrace, and returned the kiss with just as much passion. When Sinunu finally broke away, Truxa said, “Damn, girl. What was that for?”
Sinunu just shrugged, setting Truxa back on her feet. “I won’t be covering your six tonight, and I guess it’s got me worried. You watch your back.” Which was the truth, but not nearly close to how desperate Sinunu was beginning to feel. Something was going to go wrong, and somebody was going to get hurt, she knew it, just as surely as she knew her own name.
Truxa reached up with a long, delicate hand, and gently stroked some of Sinunu’s camo back into place. “You just worry about yourself, baby. You’re the one with all the extra baggage tonight.”
Sinunu nodded. “I just hope the recon information is steady. There’s no way I’m going to let that biff frag us.”
Truxa smiled. “Chill, baby. The recon’s tight. You know Flak wouldn’t let us walk in without it.”
From inside the stepvan. they heard Sandman’s whisper coming over the small speaker mounted on the inside wall of the van. “I’m in,” he said. “Damn, this guy’s good.”
Truxa and Sinunu turned in the direction of the back doors, but came up short as the tall, stooped figure of Martin de Vries seemed to materialize in front of them. There was a grave expression on his face. “It looks like we have luck on our side tonight.”
Sinunu felt her face tighten. Maybe it was because for the first time in her life, she had to deal with someone who actually frightened her.
Or maybe it was the fact that with his pale skin and lifeless eyes, Martin de Vries looked like her. Like an albino. It made her think that maybe they had more in common than she liked to consider. Still, she fought against her feelings. He was a Johnson, like so many others before him, and he was paying them ridiculously well for what seemed like a straightforward, if very dangerous, assignment.
“Yeah, lucky us.” Sinunu started to step around him, but de Vries put up a hand.
“If you would be so good as to have a word with me, in private?”
The vampire addressed Sinunu, but the apologetic smile he gave Truxa gave Sinunu an immediate urge to smash his face. For just a second, the idea that the woman she loved and this creature should ever have come into contact seemed so repulsive and despicable that she had to do a quick four-breath to find her center and control her emotions.
Truxa, however, seemed to have none of her feelings. Smiling sweetly, she said, “Of course, Mister de Vries.” With that, she circled around him and up into the van.
Left alone with the vampire, Sinunu felt her anger drain out, leaving her hollow and empty. “What do you want?”
De Vries stood there for a moment, looking at her with such empathy that Sinunu was immediately uncomfortable again. “If you’ve got nothing to say, then I need to be finishing up.”
De Vries looked out across the desolation that was Hell’s Kitchen, the sweeping volcanic dust that only seemed to settle when there was a torrential downpour. When he spoke, his voice was so soft that Sinunu had to strain to make out the word. “Have you ever read about yourself? Listened to what others were saying about you without their knowing you where eavesdropping!”
Sinunu shook her head. “I don’t care what people say about me, and unlike you, I try to keep a lower profile.”
De Vries laughed softly, and turned to look at her. “I’m going to tell you something that no one else knows.”
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