Hudson gave a smile that was more snarl than anything. “Or we can just sit this one out and let you take the order of execution all on your own little shoulders. How’d that be? You go in by yourself.”
I laughed, and it surprised him again, made him back up. “Killian,” I said, turning to look for him. He came up to me, sort of hesitating, glancing at his sergeant. Killian was only an inch or two taller than me, it was one of the main reasons that his extra gear had nearly fit me. “Help me out of this, I don’t want to mess up your gear. Thanks for the loan.”
“Why are you taking off the gear?” Hudson asked.
“If I go in without you, I don’t need the vest, or the helmet, or the damn radio that’s attached to it. I go in alone, like normal, I get to take the equipment I want to take, not that I’m ordered to take.” I started looking at the straps. “Help me out here, Killian, you helped me get into it.”
Hudson shook his head and Killian backed up. “Ms. Blake…”
“That’s Marshal Blake to you, Sergeant Hudson.”
He took in a deep breath, and let it out slow. “Marshal Blake, we can’t let you go in there alone.”
“This is my damn warrant, not yours. I shared my information with you guys, not the other way around. None of you would have even known where to look for this woman without me.”
“Do you know what they’re saying you did to get this information, Marshal?”
Just the way he said it, I knew I didn’t want to know, but I said, “No, what?”
“That you fucked the suspect. Fucked him in front of other officers, and he told you everything, then you blew his brains out with a gun. De-fucking-capitated him, you shot him so many times.”
I laughed again. “Jesus, I’d love to know who made that one up.”
“You’re saying it’s a lie?”
“That I fucked him, yeah, wishful thinking on someone’s part, but I did vamp it out of him, as in vampire, not whore. And yeah, I did shoot him until his head wasn’t there anymore, because I didn’t have my vampire hunting kit with me. The handgun was all I had, so it’s what I used.”
I shook my head and felt that faint anger fade away. “This warrant is my damn party, Sergeant Hudson. I invited you to the dance, not the other way around. I would like you to try and remember that, when we’re dealing with each other.”
He looked at me, really looked at me. I don’t think he’d seen me until that moment. I’d been some woman, some zombie queen slut, forced on him by the upper brass. I’d been a civilian with a badge, but I hadn’t been real to him, not a person. Now he looked at me, and he saw me, and I watched that unreasoning anger fade.
“You really would go in there alone, wouldn’t you?”
I sighed and shook my head. “I’m a vampire executioner, Sergeant, I’m usually alone, just me and the bad guys.”
He gave a small smile, barely more than a flex of his mustache. “Not tonight, Marshal, tonight, you go in with us.”
I smiled at him, it was a good smile, not flirting, though some men take it that way, just a good, open, honest, happy to have you smile. He smiled back, he couldn’t seem to help it. “Good, great,” I said, “but can we move it along? We’re burning moonlight.”
He gave me a look like he wasn’t sure how to take me, then he laughed. The moment he laughed, all the other men relaxed, I could feel it, like a sort of psychic sigh of relief. “You are a pushy damn woman.”
“Yes,” I said, “yes, I am.”
He gave a smaller laugh. “You’ll follow orders once we’re inside, yes?”
I sighed. “I’ll try.”
He shook his head.
“If I just say yes, it’ll be a lie, but I will do my utmost to do what I’m told. I promise.”
“That’s the best I’m going to get, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “Yep, unless you want me to lie to you.”
“No, truth from a federal agent is downright refreshing.”
“Well, then I am just going to be a breath of fresh air.”
He looked at me, shook his head, and started back toward the dry erase board. “Now that I do believe Marshal, that I do believe.” They went back to their briefing, and I went back to counting the minutes and wondering if there was going to be anything alive in the condo by the time we hit the door.
76
« ^ »
At my suggestion they put the sniper where he could see the windows, not at the front door. One, we didn’t know what they looked like, so the sniper couldn’t just drop the people coming out the front. There might be law-abiding vampire citizens in the building, so the sniper couldn’t even just shoot vampires. If he could tell for dead certain they were vamps. Even I wouldn’t want to say yes or no on the vamp question through a scope. I mean, what if you’re wrong? High silver content, there would be no apology. But anyone that flew out of the windows of our condo, they would be bad guys, and the sniper could drop them with impunity. Green-light city.
The rest of us were huddled around the van. In the movies the van is sleek and roomy. In real life, it’s narrow, cluttered, and looks like a cross between a plumber’s van and the Good Humor truck, if it sold guns instead of ice cream. There wasn’t room for us and the guns. Hell, as empty as it got, most of us wouldn’t have fit. It was an equipment van, not a transport vehicle. I was still in the vest, even though I’d pointed out that nothing we were about to go up against would be shooting at us, and vests were useless for stabbing or tearing. I’d run into this before with both military and law enforcement. They just couldn’t wrap their heads around the fact that the body armor, their best defense, didn’t help against someone that could crush steel. It was like going up against Superman, and thinking Kevlar would keep you safe. Finally, Sergeant Melbourne said what few special tactical units will ever admit out loud, “We’re using bullets. Bullets can ricochet, and we’d just feel better if we knew you were safe from friendly fire.” The microphone was integral to the vest and attached to a little earpiece, like the Secret Service wear. They showed me the button for the mike in the center of the vest, near your gun when you were holding it. They made sure the mike worked, someone patted me on top of my helmet, and I was good to go. Or as good as it was going to get. Not going in would have been the good thing, but the vamps had kidnapped that option away from us.
The woman they’d taken was Dawn Morgan, twenty-two, and had only worked at the club about three weeks. They had a picture of her up on their Web site and we’d all seen it. It was a publicity shot for a stripper bar, so we tried to look at her face. Brown hair, about shoulder length, and enough makeup that it was hard to really see her face. She was all blue eyes and red pouting lips. I didn’t ask if the men had a harder time looking at her face than I did. She was covered by hands and a few well-placed pieces of cloth, but the illusion was that more skin was showing than really was. Distracting, and meant to be. I’m sure if Ms. Morgan had been told she’d be kidnapped by murderous vampires, she’d have left us a nice, less glamorous face shot. But you just don’t plan for these kinds of things. We memorized the face of the hostage so we wouldn’t accidentally shoot her during the action. Yeah, that would be bad.
I think that if I hadn’t had my own dangerous toys to play with they would have taken me in unarmed. Most of the tactical team seemed to think I was a civilian and treated me that way. They weren’t rude, just didn’t like the idea of me having a loaded gun at their backs. I guess I couldn’t blame them. I hadn’t had their training. They’d never seen me use a gun. They’d never seen me do this kind of work. They seemed to consider me almost more dangerous than the vampires.
My biggest problem with the vest was that it made it impossible for me to carry the Browning and the Firestar in their current holsters and have any hope of drawing them. Officer Derry had thrown me a thigh holster with velcro straps. “It’ll hold the Browning and an extra clip.” Derry looked as Irish as his name, except for his coloring, which was dark.
I had to
take the vest off to thread the upper part of the thigh holster through my belt, then the other straps went around my leg. The thigh holster wasn’t bad actually, though I wouldn’t have wanted to try it unless I had pants on to protect my thighs. My thighs rub together when I walk, thank you very much. But with jeans it wasn’t bad. It was a different draw though, not just the angle, or where the gun was, but the actual hand movement was different. I wouldn’t be as quick, because I’d have to think about it. Of course, for tonight’s work, the handguns were secondary.
I had a new Mossberg 590A1 Bantam. Thirteen-inch length-of-pull, lighter weight overall. It meant more recoil, but, once you adjusted for it, it was the shotgun of my dreams. No more heavy barrel out there hanging while you tried to aim, leaving me feeling top heavy. I had a sawed-off that had started life as an Ithica 37, but now was just used for in-close vampire blasting. The Ithica had a strap fitted for it, so that it fitted across my body sort of like an awkward purse. To keep it from moving around until I wanted it for in-fighting, Edward, my friend and the only person I’d ever seen use a flamethrower, had helped me rig velcro to the thigh holster on my left thigh. That thigh holster was mine, but it was for extra ammo, not for holding guns. The velcro strap fit over the Ithica’s shortened barrel, so that it was held tight against my leg, but not at an angle where if something went terribly wrong I’d shoot my kneecap off. One quick, hard pull, and the sawed-off would be in my hands, and it would be time to be very, very close with the vamps. The Mossberg had an Urban Ops sling from U.S. Tactical Supply. It had become my preferred sling for the bigger guns. Unfortunately, you couldn’t carry two guns on two different Urban slings, because the sling was designed for switching hands, ease of movement. Which meant the gun would move around more. Edward, who was truly the assassin Hudson had accused me of being, wasn’t as fond of the Urban sling as I was, but then he didn’t do as much close in undercover work with the monsters. Most of the time he went in like a one-man demolition team. The sling also worked better if you had a heavier jacket over the sling to keep it from sliding off your shoulder. If I’d had broader shoulders, it would have stayed put better, and since most of the people who test this stuff are male, and thus have broader shoulders, I couldn’t really complain much. It was still a sweet piece of equipment.
I had a stock mag attached to the butt of the Mossberg. I’d started carrying extra ammo in a thigh holder, but the Browning was on that thigh. I’d found that if I wore the extra ammo on my left thigh, it was harder to get to. It cost me a second, or three. If I couldn’t have my right thigh for it, then the stock mag was the next best thing. I went ahead and put extra ammo in the left thigh holder. You know that old saying, I’d rather have it and not need it, than need it and not have it. That applied to ammo better than anything else I knew.
Derry said, “That’s almost the exact same thigh holder as I gave you for your Browning. If you had it already, you didn’t need to borrow ours.”
“I have two set up for ammo. I don’t have one for handguns. If it’s comfortable I might get one.”
“So glad Mobile Reserve could help you try out some new toys.” He smiled at me.
I smiled back.
“He gives you a lousy holster, and you flirt with him. I loan you my whole second rig and nothing,” Killian said.
“That wasn’t flirting, Killian. When I flirt, you’ll know it.”
“Ooh,” Derry said.
Hudson came up, in full gear. “You going to keep distracting my men, Marshal, or are you ready to execute that warrant of yours?”
“I’m through distracting, if you’re through planning.”
“I’m through,” he said.
“Then me, too. Let’s go kill some vampires.”
“Not hunt, just kill?” he asked.
“Hunting vampires isn’t a catch-and-release sport, Sergeant.”
He laughed, a short surprised sound. “Either you’re getting funnier, or it’s fucking late.”
“It’s fucking late,” I said. “There are dozens of people who’ll say that I’m not funny at all.” I made him laugh again, and when you’re about to risk your life together, there are worse ways to begin.
77
« ^ »
It was one of those buildings downtown that had been rehabbed until outside it was an architectural wonder that had been saved from demolition, but inside it was ultramodern, ultrasleek, with carpet and almost empty halls, as if once they agreed on the two-tone paint job, they couldn’t agree on anything else. The building still had vacancies, but was mostly full. Good news for the investors, but bad news for us. If the building had been mostly empty the chances of having collateral damage would have been less. Collateral damage, isn’t that a nice phrase. It was why they’d had to evacuate so many people. There was no way the vamps didn’t know something was up.
We were outside the condo. It still belonged to Jill Conroy. It felt like we’d learned that hours ago, but actually only about an hour had passed from the first recon to us being here in the hallway. We’d finally gotten a number for one of her fellow lawyers. Jill had been AWOL from her job for five days. Three of those days she’d called in sick, but the fourth day she hadn’t answered the phone. Hmm, three days home sick, then no answer. I was betting that Jill Conroy had become the undead. The evil, wicked undead, not a member of the Church of Eternal Life, and I knew not Jean-Claude’s people. The fact that we had a third player in town and neither of the other sides had figured it out, was bad. It showed either the master of these guys was very powerful, or we’d become careless.
I would have liked to have pushed my power through their walls and checked out how many were in there. I was capable of doing that now, but if they were as good as I feared, they’d sense it. I feared they’d try more vampire tricks if they knew I, or someone with my skills, was with the cops. If they thought it was just cops, they might rely on speed and strength. If they did, my money was on us. So I had to go in blind, again, shit.
I’d done a lot of vampire lairs in my day, but never with Mobile Reserve or any police tactical unit. In some ways, it was very different, and in some ways, it was very the same. Difference one, I wasn’t in front. Hudson was the guy in charge once we hit the building. He’d been in charge before, as far as I was concerned, but he’d had to answer to his chain of command. Incident commander, negotiation commander, tactical commander, but none of them was going in with us, and it was all about who was willing to pick up a gun and put their shoulder next to yours.
Hudson went third in the line order, though it wasn’t going to be a true single line. “You will move when I move, Blake. You are my fucking shadow until I tell you different. You will follow my direct orders once we’re inside, or I will cuff you and leave you with a guard. Is that clear?”
“Crystal,” I said. I think he liked me as a person, but we were about to do his job. The job wasn’t personal, and professionally, he didn’t know me at all. No amount of charm could offset that he didn’t really trust me at his back. I hadn’t earned it yet.
They brought up a huge metal body shield with a little window in it. Officer Baldwin carried the shield. He wasn’t the bulkiest of the men, that was Derry, but Baldwin had height, and since everyone was going to be crouching behind the shield, height counted, like tall people trying to crouch under a short person’s umbrella.
I expected them to use one of those big metal rams, but they didn’t. Ms. Conroy had paid extra for a solid metal door with a lock that made it true security. All that looking at specs of the building and interviewing people had paid off. They put a small explosive charge on the lock and blew it.
The flash bang grenade went first, then in we went in the wake of the stunning noise and blinding light. When the searing light faded, the only light came from the sweeps of the men’s flashlights mounted to their guns. Then it was chaos. Not the chaos of a fight, because no one was in the first room, but the chaos of trying to shuffle behind the shield and not trip or trip some
one else. They shuffled as a unit, but it was so quick, like running inside a shell of bodies. While you’re doing what amounts to dancing or gymnastics as a unit, you’re also searching the dark, keeping track of the gun in your hand, and looking for something to shoot at.
Thanks to the briefing, I knew the layout of this condo almost better than my own house. The big empty living room, the small enclosed kitchen, the hallway beyond with the guest bathroom left and the guest room right. It was a straightforward layout, thank God.
Hudson spoke in the mike in my ear, a whisper even with me standing right behind him with my hand touching his back, “Mendez, Derry, kitchen.” They peeled off wordlessly, the back of our little conga line lighter. Jung moved up, and I felt his hand against my back. Nice to know I wasn’t the only one who needed a steadying hand.
Radio in my ear: “Vic, female, not Morgan.” I think it was Derry.
“Vamp bites.”
“Yes.”
“Blake, check it out.”
I stumbled, made Jung stumble, we were like dominoes. I remembered to press my button. “What?”
“Check out the body.”
I could have argued but there was no time. I knew he was doing it to get rid of me. Maybe I really had slowed them down, but he was definitely getting me out of the way before the main shit hit the fan.
I peeled off like they had shown me and went for the kitchen. I followed his order, even though I didn’t agree. I went to check out the body, because the sergeant had told me to. Damn it.
I double-timed it to the kitchen, because if I hurried, I might still get to trail in for the main fight. Light shown through the louvered door of the kitchen. I smelled the blood before I touched the door.
Light washed over me, then dimmed, as my eyes adjusted. Derry was heading for the door as I was coming in. Hudson’s voice, sounding strained but clear, hit the radio: “Stay with Blake until she’s checked the body.” Radio silence.
Anita Blake 12 - Incubus Dreams Page 79