Second Sunrise

by Aimée Thurlo

  “You look fine. Is my tie straight?” Lee said, and she turned to look automatically. He hadn’t worn a suit in years.

  “Go to hell.”

  “I think I’m about to,” he replied, pulling the door open for her.

  They emerged in the lobby, and discovered reporters and cameramen from at least two television stations hanging around, apparently waiting lor a press conference or the opportunity to interview anyone who’d speak to them. “Who are they?” one of the civilians said to her companion, and camera lights came on.

  Lee kept his face away from the cameras as much as possible without appearing too obvious, following Diane across the room to a door where a tall, grim-looking man in a brown suit was standing.

  “Gabriel,” Diane said as the man opened the door for them, blocking the press at the same time.

  “Agent Lopez, Officer Hawk.” The agent spoke softly, nodding to both of them as they passed through the doorway onto the gray-carpeted hall beyond. Lee moved quickly, glad to be out of the sight of the press. Me didn’t like the idea of so many people, especially FBI agents, having a good look at his file photo either, as the agent named Gabriel had obviously done.

  The conference room was surrounded on four sides by hallways, and that section of the building was overflowing with uniformed officers and men in suits despite the hour. The low tones of conversation reflected the grim atmosphere, which was further enhanced by the darkened lighting in the halls.

  Diane entered the room first, with Lee right behind her, and the room grew silent within a few seconds as every face turned toward them.

  “You’re finally here. Agent Lopez. And, Officer Hawk, I presume . . .” A wide-shouldered, towhaired agent probably ten years older than Diane broke the silence. “I’m Acting SAC Vernon Logan. Would you two please have a seat? I’ll handle the introductions, then you two can give everyone here the background needed to get us up to speed on the current status of these cop-killing bastards.”

  Lee noticed one empty chair beside Lieutenant Richmond, although several officers from outlying agencies were standing. Another seat was empty beside Logan. Diane was motioned toward that chair, and Richmond nodded to Lee. The Lopez and Hawk team was already being split up, apparently. He’d have to do something about that. Hopefully, Diane would recognize the strategy and make the same move.

  Someone placed a cup of hot coffee in front of Lee as soon as he was seated, and he nodded without turning around, instead watching the faces of the officers and officials as Logan quickly gave their names, ranks, and agencies. Most were executive officers—their captains or superiors were out on duty, coordinating the intensive search for the Germans and the skinwalkers.

  Logan nodded to Lieutenant Richmond, who turned to Lee. “Officer I Hawk will now give us a brief synopsis of the situation, which seems to connect two cases, each of which has resulted in homicides where the victim or victims were law-enforcement personnel.”

  Lee took a sip of his coffee to help clear his throat before speaking. He kept his narrative as brief as possible, first of all relating the events leading up to the death of Agent Thomas, Diane’s partner. The bodies of the nude Navajo couple, the wolf, and the presence of a black panther raised a lot of eyebrows immediately. The shooting involving the van and Darvon Blackhorse was much more straightforward, fortunately, and there was a round of nods and murmurs at the mention of Blackhorse’s death.

  Then Diane joined in, at Lee’s request, and she spoke with emotion about the activities concerning Muller that first got Lee’s attention and led to the FBI involvement, then the German response, including the murder of SAC Lewis and Agent Harris and their arrival on the scene just after the bombing.

  Many of the officers were skeptical of their stories and the unusual nature of the crimes, and had questions and doubts, yet nobody could deny the violence and the deaths themselves. Officers began to argue back and forth about the events and possible strategies, and Acting SAC Logan looked back and forth between Lee and Diane, not certain how to respond to their stories, or the group. An agent in white shirt and tie came into the room and handed Logan a piece of paper. He read it quickly, then stood to get everyone’s attention.

  “People.” He held up the paper. “I’ve just received some confirmation regarding officer Hawk’s theory that these German airmen are here with a terrorist agenda. Bureau contacts with Interpol have obtained descriptions and sketches that identify Muller and Plummer as members of a freelance terrorist gang operating in Europe and the Middle East. They are believed to be highly trained operatives specializing in the assassination of government officials. Muller and Plummer—nobody knows their real names—managed to penetrate the German Air Force and assume the identities of airmen, who are now listed as missing. In-grid Plummer is also believed to be part of that group.”

  “SAC Logan?” Lieutenant Richmond spoke. He had that little Texas accent so common from a native of southeastern New Mexico, and it came out in conversation occasionally. “Any idea what is motivating these terrorists? Anything else known about them? What does the CIA have to say about all this?”

  Logan replied, “The CIA is in the dark about Muller’s gang, apparently. But European and Middle Eastern law-enforcement agencies believe the group made an unsuccessful attempt to take out an Iraqi general intensely loyal to Saddam Hussein. One of their people was taken alive, apparently, by Hussein’s guards.”

  “And this terrorist is still alive?” Diane said.

  “Apparently, though the assassination attempt took place several months ago. Israeli intelligence sources linked with Interpol hint that the Iraqis are trying to cut a deal to bring these terrorists into their own service. Muller has a sister somewhere, and the captive is supposed to be her husband,” Logan replied.

  “Exactly what is Muller’s gang doing here in New Mexico?” Logan continued. “That’s what we need to uncover. Although they have conducted aerial surveys of certain areas, we don’t know what they were looking for. Agents are in contact with the survey company now, seeking more information. The CIA and other federal agencies have been contacted, but have yet to provide anything we can use.”

  Lee looked at Diane, and she was obviously thinking the same thing. Plutonium could be used to coerce Iraq or, alternately, buy a hostage back. It would explain the presence of Muller and some of his group, certainly.

  Diane stood, and Logan scowled, but gave her the floor. “This information is consistent with Officer Hawk’s original assessment. I recommend at this point that we continue with our current strategy, which is to use all available law-enforcement resources in a coordinated effort to locate and neutralize these three individuals before any more lives are lost. I will continue working with Officer Hawk, who seems to have the most success in predicting their next move. SAC Logan, I know you will want to continue to coordinate state and local law-enforcement personnel in our statewide manhunt through our mobile command centers.”

  Lee realized that Diane was making her move to shape operations so they could work together before Logan could do otherwise. She knew the real score, and that the two of them were the only ones capable of dealing with Muller’s group.

  It was his turn now to motivate the gathering into action before he and Diane were put behind desks or in tactical headquarters, but he also had to make sure that any other officers actually confronting the vampires weren’t going to be slaughtered by underestimating the threat. He’d have to come across as ruthless and emotional, which went against his nature—at least the emotional part.

  He stood before anyone else could speak. “We’ve lost enough of our fellow law-enforcement officers to these terrorists already. I’d like to remind everyone here that we are dealing with violent, merciless individuals who are totally without conscience. I suspect that Muller’s people are wearing body armor, and are so hyped up emotionally, perhaps through mental discipline and/or drug enhancement, that they literally feel no pain. They will be hard to bring down. Warn every
one of your officers in the field. If anyone is forced into an armed confrontation with these perps, I strongly advise an overwhelming lethal response. Multiple shots to their heads and hearts are not inappropriate. I honestly feel it will take that kind of firepower to bring them down. Do I need to remind anyone of a street battle several years ago in Miami, when amped-up perps already suffering from lethal wounds continued to resist, killing several FBI agents? This is the motivation of the terrorists we’re after, people. They don’t want to be taken alive. I suggest they get their wish.”

  Heads were already nodding, and by the time he finished, nearly all the officers in the room were voicing their agreement. In the flurry of excitement, with nearly everyone speaking at once, Lieutenant Richmond turned to Lee. “Hell of a pep talk, Officer Hawk. I think everyone’s ready to kick ass.”

  Lee looked across the table at Diane, who nodded imperceptibly.

  A half hour later, after settling on tactical arrangements and sharing specific details with their fellow officers, Lee and Diane were transferring the gear they had with them into her old Bureau unit, which had been brought to the Bureau’s underground garage from the parking lot of Lee’s apartment.

  “I had to preempt Logan before he assigned me to direct a task force,” Diane said, “regardless of how it might help my career. I’d be tied to a desk or some mobile van while everyone coming into contact with them goes down in a firefight they have very little hope to win.”

  “You timed it right. At least we’ve warned everyone the best we could about the danger lacing anyone who encounters Muller’s little gang. We know they won’t be taken alive, that’s for sure,” Lee commented, placing his rifle and ammunition on the backseat under a blanket.

  “I was impressed with the reaction you got when you suggested the best way to end this investigation,” Diane said, climbing into the driver’s side. “Scary.”

  “Idiots. They bought into it because they thought I was speaking from emotion after losing comrades to these killers. Too bad I couldn’t tell them that’s the only chance they have of actually killing these vampires.”

  “I just hope we don’t lose any more officers.” Diane shook her head as they drove out of the underground garage of the Albuquerque Bureau office just east of downtown. She was exhausted, obviously, and Lee had noticed her yawns several times the past hour, even during the tense moments in the conference room. It had been stressful having to stick to their cover story to avoid being locked away in padded rooms.

  “Well, we need some rest, if we’re going to be able to track Muller down. It may be our last opportunity before they give up and try to leave the country. I’m glad that we now know Muller s motivation for getting at the plutonium.”

  “I’m too tired to even think about it now, as you can tell. Come and stay at my place. We have to keep working together if we expect to defeat these killers. If we go anywhere near a law-enforcement agency now, we’re going to run into more reporters. I sure wish they hadn’t been in the Bureau lobby. If they run your photo, it’ll make things even more difficult for you next time you need to establish a new identity.’

  “At least we were able to go back out via the elevator and they didn’t get a second look. The problem with today’s technology is that secrets are becoming harder and harder to keep all the time. As a Navajo, I’ve always been noticed in any small, off-the-Reservation community, but in a large city, I’m just another foreigner to most people. Except in the Southwest, of course.” Lee had to remain philosophical, though the repercussions of what had happened worried him. It could have been worse. At least their names and addresses hadn’t been given to the reporters.

  Diane headed west, passing under some freeway construction, then five minutes later, turned north down Rio Grande Boulevard past Old Town, which was filled with early morning traffic, most heading the opposite direction into the downtown area.

  “There’s something we need to keep in mind here in Albuquerque,” Lee decided to mention.

  “What’s that?”

  “There are a lot of Navajos living between here and To’hajiilee—toward Grants—and some of them might be skinwalkers. Remember, they can sense my presence from quite a distance, like bloodhounds. And my picture might be on the news tonight. If any of Tanner’s pack or that shooter in the van sees me . . .”

  “You’ll be inside during the day anyway, and we’ll be out of here again before dark. We’ll just have to keep our eyes open. In the meantime, there’s no way you can tell them in human form?” Diane asked.

  “Well, the only ones I’ve ever known were Navajo, for some genetic reason, I suppose. Other than that, unless you happen to see them shape-shifting . . .”

  “But they can only do that at night?”

  ‘That’s what Bowlegs told me, and I’ve never seen any evidence contrary to that.”

  “Okay. If I see any Indians or any big dogs or cats, I’ll be ready.” She started to smile, then apparently changed her mind.

  “You live on the west side?” Lee changed the subject as he scrunched down in the seat, adjusting the visor to block out as much as possible of the rising sun. It had been hours since his last application of sunblock, and he was wary, despite the window glass that filtered out the harmful radiation.

  “How you doing on sunblock?” She noted his reaction to sunrise.

  “I could use a new bottle. Once we cross the river, maybe you could stop at one of those twenty-four-hour groceries.”

  “Glad to. I’ll get us some heat-and-serve breakfast too. It’s been a while since I’ve been home, and I don’t remember what’s in the fridge . . . but whatever it is probably won’t be edible now.” Diane slowed the unit to thirty, entering Los Ranchos de Albuquerque, a village that included many fancy homes in the North Valley, and had only recently come into the clutches of the big developers. The speed limit was twenty-five to discourage commuters. All it had accomplished, she suspected, was to give drivers the chance to play cat-and-mouse games with the local police.

  “You grew up not far from here?” Lee offered. He loved the bosque, the local name for the wooded areas running alongside the river valleys in New Mexico. The old, gnarly, self-pruning cottonwoods reminded him of San Juan County, where he’d spent his own childhood.

  “Just north and east of here, between Second Street and the river. When my father died, my mother moved to Los Lunas, but the old family home is just off Fourth Street. It’s now an antiques shop, of all things.”

  “Hell, I’m almost an antique. Don’t knock it.” Lee chuckled.

  Diane turned to catch his eye. “You look just like new to me.”

  “Ah, but I’m old inside.” Lee thought about Annie for a moment, remembering how they’d joked about him never looking old, and the time when she’d catch up and pass him.

  They rode in silence, the only noise coming from the thump thump of oversized stereo speakers in slow-moving cars, or the swoosh of vehicles as they passed. Soon they were crossing the new Corrales bridge, a broad expanse of concrete alongside the old metal-truss structure, now a footbridge for people, horses, dogs, and an occasional llama.

  “You’re usually pretty upbeat, despite what we’ve been going through the past few days. Something on your mind?” she commented.

  “Just browsing through my memory. Nothing to talk about.” He sat up straight now that the sun was behind them. “Remember, we want to stop on the way.”

  “I didn’t forget. I’m starving.” Her stomach growled.

  “I heard that.”

  “Won’t be the last time. Remind me to eat whenever possible while we’re hunting these eop killers. If I’m going to die, there’s no sense in dying hungry.”

  “If I have anything to say about it, you’re going to die in your sleep long after you retire, Diane.”

  “Thanks for the sentiment.” Diane smiled. “Partner.”

  It was nearly five-thirty in the afternoon. Plans made, they were making preparations to leave her apartm
ent when her cell phone rang. Diane listened for a moment, then protested. “No, tell SAC Logan I can’t come down there now, I have to be somewhere else. Sure, I’m thinking about my career, but right now I’d rather stop the people behind these killings than worry about my next promotion. I’m working with Patrolman Hawk. He knows his way around the area, and he has the trust of the locals.”

  Diane looked over at him in desperation. It was obvious someone in the Bureau was making a second attempt to place her in a command position. If that happened, he’d be working alone again, He’d done it before, but not against two, maybe three vampires, each one stronger than he was.

  He appreciated her attempt to stick with him, despite the damage it might have to her career possibilities. Diane no longer seemed to be so eager to break that glass ceiling.

  “Okay, tell Logan I’m coming down there. I can give the SAC a half hour, no more.” She hung up. “Damn secretary. Screw my chances for promotion. If I can’t lead from the front, I don’t want the job.”

  “The pressure is increasing, Diane. Must have been the news coverage.” Lee turned and waved toward the TV screen. The set was on, though the sound had been muted. The lead story on the early local news was the deaths of Agents Lewis and Harris, and the station had already twice shown segments from film shot in the FBI lobby, though most of the video was from a brief statement made by Acting SAC Logan. His face and Diane’s had only flashed for a few seconds, and though he wasn’t mentioned, she was identified by name.

  “I’ve got to go back down there to FBI headquarters for a while. SAC Logan is having second thoughts, according to his secretary. I won’t be long, even if I have to resign before they let me leave. We have some unfinished work to do, and I’m not going to trust it to anyone else.” Diane looked around for her wallet and badge, sticking them into her jacket pocket.

  “Drop me by the state police motor pool first. I can borrow a unit there, and maybe even a spare uniform, which might come in handy later. Call me when you’re done. We can meet in Grants and go from there together, or make some other arrangement. I don’t see any other way. We pretty much know what they intend on doing tonight, as soon as it’s dark.” Lee put on his cap and dark glasses, then checked in his pockets. He had a spare cell phone, as usual, in case a battery went bad.