Acheson rose and met Ellenshaw as he walked toward the table, offering his hand. Ellenshaw accepted it.
“Robert. Sorry I couldn’t meet you at the airport. I was on my way back, and—”
“Yes, you were on your way back with Sharon. I heard about that. Where is she?”
Acheson turned and pointed through one of the glass walls. On the far side of the research area was the tank. Sharon lay inside on a hospital bed, being tended to by several medical technicians. She turned her head in the conference room’s direction. Ellenshaw raised his hand in greeting, and she nodded back. One of the technicians noticed this and pulled a portable curtain around the bed, cutting Sharon off from view.
Ellenshaw looked back to Acheson. “How’s she doing?”
“Not so hot.” Acheson returned to his seat. Ellenshaw took the seat next to him.
“I meant, how is she progressing? How advanced is the infection?”
“Kerr will brief us on that.”
Erskine Fiedler’s voice boomed from the speakers in the conference room’s ceiling. “Sorry for the delay. Robert, is that you?” On the LCD screen, Fiedler was shown head on.
“It is. Good to see you again, Erskine.”
Fiedler let out a reedy laugh. “I’m sure that’s not true, but I appreciate the gesture!”
Ellenshaw smiled politely. A dark-haired woman with tan skin stepped into the room and made a beeline for Chiho. Her gaze lingered on Ellenshaw for a moment as she sat next to the lithe Japanese woman. She averted her gaze when Ellenshaw nodded to her.
Andrew Kerr hurried in and closed the door behind him. He cast an apologetic glance around the room as he took a seat at the opposite end of the table.
“Sorry,” he said, “but I had an obstacle to overcome. Namely, changing the toner cartridge in my desktop printer.”
“Mark, we’re ready to begin?” Fiedler asked.
“We’re ready, sir.”
“Thank you. Allow me to review the circumstances. There was an attack against a Containment Group 6 operative last night in the hills above Los Angeles, in the Griffith Park area. This attack resulted in the deaths of two adults and one infant, as well as the infection of the team executive officer. She is under the care of Doctor Kerr, and her operational status is clearly in question.
“Starting with last night—where did things break down? We have several different plans for this sort of thing, and none of them worked. According to the reports, the XO was able to reach Rick Wallace and issue the alert. Wallace advised her that he would propagate the alert and provide on-site support within twenty minutes. Mister Wallace, correct?”
“Yes sir,” Rick said.
“Thank you. Procedure in a situation like this is for the team member in contact to disengage and await reinforcements. Apparently, Miss Thomas did not consider this, as her sister’s family was in grave danger. She entered the premises alone, without waiting for additional support. Mark, this is the case?”
“It is. Also, additional weapons and support devices inside the house had been moved. This plus the fact that the core temperature of the bodies was approximately seventy-seven degrees Fahrenheit upon examination indicates that the vamps had been in the house for quite some time. They’d had ample time to move the weapons. We found them in the garage.
“The breakdown was when Sharon ignored procedure,” Acheson said. “She had a tough choice to make, and she was also fixated on getting through to me, as opposed to alerting other members of the team. I was… unavailable.”
“Define ‘unavailable,’“ Fiedler said.
Acheson hesitated. “I was either in the elevator bay or the parking garage. Both areas offer exceptionally spotty reception, even for our phones.”
“And Miss Hara was with you at the time?”
“Yes, sir. We left together.”
Fiedler nodded. “From a training perspective, have any deficiencies been identified?”
“None. The chain was broken by personal choice. And in all honesty, if Sharon had been able to contact me, I doubt I could have persuaded her to wait for us to arrive.”
“I’m not on a witch-hunt, Mark. These were tough circumstances, and the outcome isn’t surprising. Despite the loss of life and the need to engage in contingency operations, we have come out ahead—Sharon is still alive.
“And this leads me to my next question. Why was she spared?”
“I don’t know. We were still at least ten minutes out, which would have given them time to kill Sharon. Clearly, she was left alive for a purpose.”
“And what might that purpose be? Robert?” Fiedler asked.
Ellenshaw exchanged glances with Acheson before he faced the monitor at the end of the table.
“I can’t say, Erskine. Leaving a survivor behind to identify the numbers and specific personalities involved doesn’t seem particularly prudent.”
“We know there’s evidence of a psychic link between the vamps. Could such a link be possible between a living person and one of the Undead?” Fiedler asked.
Kerr stirred in his chair. “Sharon has reported some… ‘psychic discomfort’. She reports being able to sense a presence she identified as Osric. I can’t say if this is real or imagined. But remember, being suddenly thrust into the position she’s in could introduce some unique mental health issues. Not to mention losing her family, of course. She’s a prime candidate for post-traumatic stress disorder.”
“Understood.” Fiedler took a moment to sip from a white porcelain mug. “What else, Dr. Ellenshaw?”
“If Sharon does Turn, then Osric will be able to manipulate her,” Ellenshaw said. “And there is the possibility that as she approaches Turning—before she transforms into one of the Undead—he could have some abilities over her. But this is speculation.”
“Best to accept that as a truth until proven otherwise,” Fiedler said. “Dr. Kerr, can you take a moment to bring us up to date on Sharon’s condition? In layman’s terms, please.”
Kerr opened the manila folder he had brought with him. “Sharon’s condition is stable. We’re continuing the regimen we mapped out earlier today, and it seems to be holding. Her vitals remain normal. The bite site is healing quicker than expected, and while that’s good, it may also be the work of the RMA virus in her system. It actually assists the host repair damage to tissues and the like, part of a sophisticated symbiosis which takes place before the Turning. This is all assumption, of course—there’s no dependable science to refer to here. The virus count in her bloodstream is holding at one thousand four hundred parts per million, which is higher than I want, but it’s not increasing. From historical data, we know that the amount of viral particles tends to increase almost exponentially in a human host and can induce death within forty-eight to ninety-six hours. It’s coming up on twenty-four hours now since Sharon was infected.”
Fiedler nodded while jotting down some notes. “According to data that I have here, the last person who was infected by a vampire and received treatment within minutes of the attack actually had a viral particulate count of almost thirteen thousand per million, which increased until the individual Turned roughly seventy-two hours after the attack. That’s excellent news and wonderful results, Andrew. Your research is paying off.”
“Thank you, director,” Kerr said self-consciously. “But I need to stress that we’ve been unsuccessful in reducing the particulate count. A substantial number of those particulates have penetrated her cellular structure, and there’s no easy way to reverse that.”
“Understood. Julia, any intel update? Any spikes in missing persons, disappearances, murders?” Fiedler added as an afterthought, “Or anything plain weird?”
“This is Los Angeles, director. There’s always something weird on the radar.” She thumbed through the stack of reports before her. “There may be something with regard to disappearances. There’s been some chatter regarding a neighborhood in Encino. It’s still internal to the local police department, but several houses wer
e reported as abandoned this morning. Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department has been called in, but nothing official from them has hit the wire. This data was elevated to me just before the meeting, so I’ve not vetted it.”
“Bodies?” Fiedler asked.
“Not that we’re aware of.”
“Keep working it. Anything else?”
“No, sir.”
“All right. Mark, next steps?”
“Tactically, we do what we’re doing,” Acheson said. “We keep mining intel and doing the usual follow-ups. Until something breaks and we either get a sighting or some bodies pop up, we just keep looking.
“Operationally, Sharon can’t serve as executive officer. She has volunteered to serve in a different capacity, however, one that might pan out for us. As Andrew already noted, she mentioned being able to ‘sense’ something out there, a presence in her mind. We presume it’s Osric, so it makes sense to capitalize on that.”
“I disagree,” Ellenshaw said. “It would be a mistake to place Sharon in the field. Firstly, we have to consider her condition. Secondly, if this psychic bond between her and the vampires intensifies, it could give them visibility into the Group’s operations. To what extent is debatable, but to minimize it we should keep her out of the loop.”
“I’m willing to listen to both sides of the argument,” Fiedler said.
“We need to be more flexible in our methods,” Acheson said. “The potential to gather intel like this has never come our way before. Osric might be employing the same tactic against us—Sharon identified Helena Rubenstein as one of the vamps at the house. We don’t know if she’s still empathic, but if she is, then she knows our personal signatures. I think that’s how Osric got the bead on us in the first place.”
Julia nodded, her expression thoughtful. “That would explain a lot.”
“I agree,” Fiedler said. “Miss Nero? Would you consider this a likely prospect, given that you and Rubenstein share the same talents?”
Claudia seemed surprised to be singled out by the technocrat. “Um… it’s possible. Maybe very much so.”
“Robert, your opinion?”
Ellenshaw rubbed his eyes. “Vampirism does magnify a lot of traits, and Helena’s talents might be one of those.”
Fiedler nodded pensively. “Mark, I accept your plan to use Sharon as a countermeasure to whatever methods Osric might use, if Dr. Kerr agrees.”
“I’ve given my concurrence,” Kerr said. “Mark, Sharon and I have already come to an understanding.”
“Excellent. Mark, what else?”
“Since we’re without an exec, I’d like to elevate Chiho to that role. Cecil, Nacho, I know you’re both senior in grade, as is Julia. But I want Julia to stay where she is. Chiho has the aptitude for the position, and I don’t want the two of you distracted with command concerns during an op.”
“No problem,” Cecil said. “I ain’t the man for that gig. I need to stay operational.”
“Same here,” Nacho added. “No time for that crap. Good luck to you, Chiho. We’ll try to do as you tell us.”
“Good to see no one’s feelings are hurt,” Acheson observed. To Chiho: “Well? You up for it?”
Chiho exchanged glances with Claudia, then looked at Cecil and Nacho. “Of course, but what does Sharon have to say?”
“We discussed it earlier. She’s good with it.”
Chiho slowly nodded. “I accept, with thanks. I’ll do my very best.”
“Director, if the missing persons reports out of Encino pan out, it gives us a search vector,” Acheson said. “But Los Angeles is a big place, with a population that’s highly mobile. Chances are good the vamps are capitalizing on that, especially since Osric’s been whacked by us before. No matter what theatrics he pulled with the attack on Sharon, we should be mindful of the fact that he’s intelligent and capable of using our infrastructure to his advantage if it suits him.”
“I agree,” Ellenshaw said. “While it wasn’t intentional, it should be obvious to all in this room that we—” The older man stopped and sighed before he continued. “That I underestimated Osric before. I suspect this is why I was invited back, to help ensure the same mistakes aren’t made.”
“Accountability isn’t the issue,” Fiedler said. “We followed tried-and-proven procedures that have resulted in the sterilization of several vampire families and individuals in the past. But our enemy has mounted an asymmetric response, and we now need to be more innovative in our approach. That’s easily said; how we go about it, I’m not sure. I have taken one small liberty, however. I liaised with Homeland Security and Special Operations Command, and I’ve managed to have a helicopter removed from the battle roster of the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment out of Fort Campbell. That aircraft has been deployed to Van Nuys airport. I’ve emailed the contact information your way, Mark. The helicopter’s call sign is SHADOW FLIGHT.”
Acheson was puzzled. “And what would we need the Night Stalkers for?”
“Mobility. As you said, Los Angeles is very big, and covering the territory as quickly as possible is imperative. If you need the helicopter, call for it and give them a pick-up point. They’ll handle the rest.”
“How much do they know about us?” Chiho asked.
“As far as the Night Stalkers and SOCOM go, Containment Team 6 is a special anti-terrorist unit that’s operating in the black. That’s good enough for them.” Fiedler checked his watch. “For the time being, we should focus on processing intel and trying to develop some actionable leads. And of course, you’ll continue to pursue the possibility of using Sharon as a means to further infiltrate the family’s decision cycles. Am I correct?”
“You are.” Acheson looked around the table. There was nothing further. Fiedler called the meeting to a close.
“As always, keep my office updated as frequently as possible,” he said. “If you require anything, let me know. I can reallocate resources as necessary.”
“Understood, sir,” Acheson said.
“Excellent. Then with that, I bid you all a good night.” The big display screen at the end of the room went dark as Fiedler terminated the connection. Acheson rose to his feet.
“Let’s get back to work, folks.”
6
Amerikan Gothik was located on Sunset Boulevard, only blocks from The House of Blues and the much-revered though falling-out-of-fashion Viper Room. Osric looked out into the night as Tremaine guided the stretch Lincoln Town Car through the nighttime traffic, past the LAPD patrol cars and motorcycles out to enforce the No Cruising law. As it approached the nightclub, he saw other stretch limousines parked at the curb, their opera lights glowing in the darkness. Burly men in black vests provided security and crowd control, and there was a long line stretching down the block. Young men and women waited in varying states of patience, clad in the latest gothic styles. As Tremaine pulled the limo to the curb, Osric smiled to himself. Some of the hopeful nightclub patrons were trying to pass themselves off as vampires!
“Here we are, Master,” Tremaine said over the intercom.
“Remain with the vehicle, and wait for us to return,” Osric said.
Osric stepped out into the night, his face composed and tranquil. He swept his gaze across the throng of people waiting to get into the nightclub, itself a rather drab affair of black and gray, a mere storefront facing Sunset Boulevard. He turned and held his hand out toward the open door. With a soft giggle, Helena reached out and took his hand. As she emerged from the car, a black youth in a dark leather vest approached.
“Excuse me, sir, but you need an invitation to get inside tonight—”
Osric stared at him full on. “I think you’ll make an exception for us, yes?”
The youth was instantly enraptured by Osric’s gaze. “Uh, yeah, yeah, we can do that,” he stammered. “You can leave the car where it is, we’ll make sure nothing happens to it.”
Osric led Helena toward the door. The two bouncers there puffed out their chests and faced him.
Their expressions were dark, their postures supposedly intimidating. Osric laughed.
“Invitation, please?” said the broad-shouldered white man with the shaved head.
Osric stared at him. “My party will pass uncontested.”
“Sure thing,” said the bald man.
“What?” snapped his partner, a similarly hairless black man who was short but stout, with a massive chest and biceps. “Whaddya mean? Where’s his invite?”
“You’ve already seen my invitation,” Osric said. “And after my party enters, you’ll lock the doors behind us.”
The black man was stronger than the others, and for a moment he fought against Osric’s gaze. Osric sensed the fear come from him in waves when he looked into Osric’s eyes and saw them for what they were, could feel the man’s heart rate increase and send delicious blood hurtling through his veins and arteries. But then the man saw past the silver-and-black eyes themselves and received their message, and his pulse rate normalized.
“We’ll lock the doors behind you,” the man whispered. As he turned and pulled open the heavy oak door, throbbing dance music poured out into the street. Osric urged Helena to enter before him.
“Make sure no one comes out and no one goes in,” Osric said.
“Done,” said the man.
“Hey, how come those guys get to cut in line?” asked a mop-headed young man wearing black lipstick and harsh eyeliner. “We’ve been waiting for almost forty minutes!”
Osric turned. He didn’t push any suggestion through his eyes, just stared at the young man. He laughed when the man recoiled, then stepped inside the nightclub.
“Damn, you see those contacts?” the man asked his chubby companion. “They musta cost a bundle!”
Inside, the nightclub was dark and cool. Dance music pulsated through the air at an uncomfortable volume, and strobe lights slashed through the darkness at irregular intervals. Osric led Helena onto the dance floor. To his right was the bar, crowded with young men and women queued up for drinks. Some of them wore false fingernails and, he saw to his delight, fangs that were much too small to serve a true vampire’s purpose.
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