Marshall parked up his bike at the opposite end of the lot to Tommy’s bike, trying to draw as little attention as possible. He stood up and looked casually around for any signs of trouble. There was nothing out of place, but with it dark and so many obstacles, he was aware how easily he could be walking into a trap.
He slowly walked towards the doors of the bar, hearing Harriet’s Triumph approach as he pulled them open. For a man who used to plan things to perfection, he was now relying on a surprising number of assumptions. He had to hope that Tommy was able to shake off any one who would follow him, and hope that Harriet really did have his back.
Looking across the smoky bar, Tommy sat with his back to the wall, nodding in recognition as Bill entered. Marshall didn’t approach him immediately but went directly to the bar, waiting to be served. He looked around, checking for any possibility of trouble. Finally, he got his beer and joined Tommy at his table, satisfied they would be left alone.
“Hey, Bill, how’s it going?”
“Still alive aren’t I?”
Tommy chuckled, but considering the events of the last week, it wasn’t as funny as it should have been. Tommy had a folder on the table before him.
“How are the guys doing?”
“Same old, but the Bishop has been keeping us in the dark recently, haven’t been getting any work, there is talk of Williams looking for your replacement.”
“I would have thought the job would have gone to you.”
“Yeah, but with the shit you have been involved in, I don’t think he trusts any of us, you really pissed him off, Bill.”
“Yeah well, I haven’t even started with him yet.”
“Bill, taking the fight to Rainer is one thing, you can’t touch the Bishop.”
“Don’t worry about that, I’ll do what is right.”
“You’ll be dead.”
“Alright, let’s get to business,” said Bill.
Tommy sighed, he had hoped to talk some sense into his old friend, but it was quite clear that he was dead set on his path.
“Finding anything about Rainer’s Coven is near impossible, just cannot find out who they even are, no names or anything. So, I focused on Rainer himself, much easier to track down with his status.”
“Alright, what ya got?”
“As you know he owns a lot of real estate in the city, but there is one which is particularly dear to him. Williamsburg Tower is his natural base and home.”
“Jesus, I knew he was wealthy, but that’s crazy!”
“Yeah, Karl Rainer owns the whole building. He uses much of it to manage various businesses that he has around the State, both legitimate and not. At the very top of the building is his personal condo, but it would be more appropriate to call it a private bar.”
“And I can find him there?”
“My sources tell me he spends most of his time there, both for work and pleasure.”
“Alright, thanks, Tommy, it’s a big help.”
“Just don’t do anything stupid, Bill. Rainer has a whole army at his command, you won’t get anywhere near him.”
“Well, you leave that to me.”
“Understand, Bill, me and the guys would like nothing better than to help you out, but you’re on a path of destruction. If Rainer had done that to my family I’d want the same, but you have to take it from a friend that can look at this objectively.”
“I didn’t come here for a lecture, Tommy.”
“Who will you listen to? I am your friend, Bill, I only want the best for you.”
“This isn’t about me anymore, this is about punishing evil.”
“Alright, fuck it, I tried. Let’s at least enjoy a beer in peace together.”
“Sure. So how are things at Kingston?” asked Bill.
“Mostly the same as ever. Though Bradley has been a real bitch ever since your last visit, more than usual.”
“You watch your ass with him, you hear?”
“I know. Honestly, Bill, we could do with you back.”
“Sorry, Tommy, that part of my life is over. The Church has become impotent in the most important matters. What must be done now is beyond their remit.”
“Will you consider it at least?”
“Tommy, I have given years of my life to Kingston, what has it achieved? Vampires control the city, the most vicious crimes go unchecked. Meanwhile the Brotherhood is held back by bureaucracy.”
“Can’t change the system, if you’re not in it, Bill.”
“Hey, Kingston if your problem now, I’m going my own way.”
Bill saw the fine change in Tommy’s face as surprise came into his eyes and his cheeks tightened. Marshall recognised the look of fear in him. Without a word, he ducked quickly down onto the bench as two tranquiliser darts flew across the room, narrowly missing him. He looked up over the table, one had imbedded in Tommy’s throat, knocking him out immediately, the other into the wall behind him.
Screams erupted around the room as the patrons of the bar panicked and began to storm out of the building. Bill leapt over the side of the dividing wall next to their table, backing up against it, he drew his Mateba the second his feet hit the floor.
“Bill Marshall, you are under arrest, come quietly!”
He looked up cautiously over the short wall, four armed men stood at the entrance. They were well equipped with rifles, tranquiliser guns and Kevlar vests, but they were not the police. He recognised one of them, and along with their equipment, it was quickly apparent that they were a Brotherhood team. The bar was empty with a minute, being eerily quiet the only sound cars in the lot racing away from the scene.
“Guys, what are you doing?”
“Marshall, you know the drill, you have broken the rules of the pact, along with countless laws!”
“What’s your name, son?”
“Ronnie Michaels!”
“Alright, Ronnie, do you know what Karl Rainer did to me and my family?”
“Yes, I have been briefed, I am deeply sorry for your loss, but we cannot let you continue killing. Come with us, it’s time to let the authorities handle this!”
“I have seen how the authorities have handled it! Deny Rainer’s slaughter of my parish and give him a free pass, the Bishop made a deal with the Devil!”
“Sorry, Bill, whatever happened, this has got to come to an end!”
“I cannot let you take me in, guys! I don’t want to hurt you!” shouted Bill.
“Come on, Bill, you’re leaving us no choice!”
Marshall thought deeply about his predicament, it was an impossible situation. Just as with Detective Matthews, good people were being placed between him and the villains, but he couldn’t bring himself to kill good people.
“You have three seconds to give yourself up!” shouted Ronnie.
Marshall pulled a flashbang from his belt and drew the pin out, tossing it along the floor of the bar. The four men looked down at the sound of the metal object rolling towards them until they realised what it was.
“Shit! Get Down!”
Marshall ducked behind the wall and closed his eyes as the four men leapt for cover. The grenade went off with a deep and resounding pulse and a burst of light. Marshall was quickly on his feet, Ronnie was staggering about, desperately trying to regain sight and composure. Marshall took aim at his lead arm and fired a single shot. The bullet hit hard, causing Ronnie to release his grip on his rifle and drop to the ground.
Quickly training his pistol on the second man, he fired a shot through each leg, dropping his target to the floor immediately. Before he could take aim at the third, the shooter opened fire with his M4 assault rifle. Two shots hit Marshall square in the chest. He was knocked back slightly, then ducked behind another short wall. The vest had held up against the shots, but the trauma felt as if he had just been hit with a sledge hammer, making it hurt to breathe.
This was a fight which was simply too risky, nor did he want to hurt any member of the Brotherhood. He drew his second flashbang fr
om his belt and pulled the pin. On the far wall, he could see a window which looked quite thin and had no obstacles between it and his position. He threw the grenade out, hearing the men shout in panic again.
Before the grenade had even stopped rolling, Marshall was in full sprint across the room. He launched in a jump through the window, putting his arms in front of his head to take the impact and using his leather coat to protect him against the glass. As he crashed through the window, the flashbang erupted behind him.
Marshall rolled several times in the parking lot on smashed glass, the impact clicking his shoulder out slightly, adding further pain to his ever growing list of injuries. He was back on his feet with his revolver still in hand. He looked around the lot, Harriet’s bike was still parked there but she was nowhere to be seen.
Looking down the street, Bill could see a cash truck, just the sort the Brotherhood often used. He leapt onto his Harley and fired it up, spinning the back tyres as he raced the two hundred yards towards the truck. Marshall knew the Brotherhood team would not give up lightly. He stopped the bike in front of the truck,] and out of sight of the bar.
Knowing Brotherhood procedure like the back of his hand, he already knew that they must have incapacitated Harriet and stashed her in the van. He approached the tailgate and could see it had the usual keypad lock. The Brotherhood all used a standard key code for their trucks, so that in emergencies they could work together without problems. He entered the code, surprised that they had been careless enough not to change the universal code since hunting one of their own people.
Harriet lay unconscious on the bed of the truck. He pulled her out quickly but her body was limp. He had to prop her on the back of his bike and then jump on as he held her tightly with his spare hand. It was a precarious position to balance her but he had no choice. He fired up the bike and quickly put the power down, storming on down the street.
Marshall knew that the Brotherhood must have identified his position by tracking Tommy. At least that meant they had no idea where his base was. The team who had attacked him would have to attend to their own and clean up before the police arrived, giving him a convenient time to get to safety. The fact that the Bishop had gone after him was not so surprising, but he was amazed that a Brotherhood team would do the job.
Over years of good service, Bill had become well known among the Brotherhood as one of its most competent and loyal soldiers, and yet now that counted for nothing. Marshall felt more alone than ever, he couldn’t turn to his old friends as they were under surveillance, and everyone else who he would have considered allies were now hunting him.
The Harley rolled on up to the lockup, Bill content that nobody had been following him. Harriet was still utterly out for count. He knew that the tranquilisers they used would knock an average person out for three hours, but with her slight body, it could well be four. Bill rolled the bike into the garage with her slumped over the seat. He walked back out through the open shutter and looked up and down the street.
The industrial neighbourhood was mostly dark with just a few street lights and not a single person in sight. It had been a close call that night, a foolish mistake on his part. He had underestimated the Bishop’s initiative. It was ironic that over the last year, Bill had become ever more disillusioned with the Brotherhood’s inability to act, and yet when it came to bringing him in, they were quick, efficient and without constraint.
Satisfied that the neighbourhood was peaceful and safe, he wandered back in and closed the shutter. He looked down at Harriet, her body was limp and slumped over the bike. He had never wanted to take a Vampire into his lockup, the only place he had left which was safe, but she was a friend in need.
How did it come to this? Marshall thought more and more about the situation. How did it come to him being hunted by Church soldiers, whilst having a Vampire as one of the last of his true friends. More and more he was accepting that she was exactly that, a friend, not just a convenient ally. He couldn’t leave her there in such an uncomfortable position. He picked her up from the bike and carried her upstairs. Her slight body weighed little, but it was clear she was not a weak woman. She was slim but she was fit and strong.
Marshall laid her down to rest on his bed and shut the blinds and drapes. He had no idea how much comfort she would find in such circumstances, but it was the best he could manage. He dared not touch her clothes, he laid her head to rest on the pillow and pulled the blanket over her. It was as much comfort as he could give to a human, but had no idea if it would have the same effect on a Vampire.
He turned off the light and went back down to his armoury, not having anywhere left to sleep. He sat back in his chair beside his weapons and thought back to the bar. The fact he had left Tommy their bothered him, though he knew the Brotherhood would not harm him.
The Bishop would soon know that Tommy had been helping him, he may even know already. Helping a criminal at large would likely be enough to get him struck off and cast out of the Brotherhood. Bill felt guilty for putting his old friend in such a bind, but ultimately he knew that it wasn’t his doing which had led to the situation.
He got back to his feet, knowing he needed a drink. He wandered back upstairs to the bedroom where Harriet still lay lifeless. He picked up the bottle, but stopped briefly to stare at her face. He could not help marvel at her beauty, her smooth skin and taut jaw. By all accounts, she appeared as an angel to him, and yet she could not be further from being one. He turned, feeling a little ashamed for staring at her when she was in such a vulnerable state. Marshall popped open the bottle and began throwing it back as he walked on down the stairs.
* * *
A limousine pulled up outside Mackenzie’s bar, the parking lot was mostly empty, but for an ambulance. Bradley stepped out from the car and look on at the carnage. There were no police on scene as he had called them off. He watched as Ronnie, the head of the team he had sent, was led into the back of the ambulance with his friend who was on a stretcher.
Bradley sighed at the sight of the battle. Glass was scattered all over the parking lot and he could already tell what a disaster the mission had been. A Mercedes SUV rolled down the street and pulled up beside him. A dark figure got out from the back of the vehicle, it was Karl Rainer, no doubt coming to see the results of their night’s efforts.
“Do you have Marshall?” asked Rainer.
“No, he got away,” said Bradley.
“Fuck, you really are incompetent!”
“He was one of our best people. It will be no easy task for anyone to bring him in. I strongly advise that you look at means to increase your personal protection and safety, as it will only be a matter of time before he comes for you.”
Rainer laughed in the face of the Bishop’s secretary.
“That bastard can’t touch me, I want him you hear?” shouted Rainer.
“I know, we are doing all that we can.”
“All that you can isn’t enough! I can see this matter is going to have to be left to me to sort out.”
“What do you suggest? Both our people have tried to take him in now, and both have failed.”
“I have someone in mind to get on this.”
“Who? We have all had our best people on it?”
“Have you heard of El Esesino?”
“The Mexican psycho?”
Rainer nodded.
“You can’t be serious, he’s a monster! He’ll just cause more damage than good!”
“He’s the baddest mother fucker in Mexico, he’ll happily take care of Marshall for the right price.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” said Rainer.
The Vampire Lord got back into his SUV, leaving Bradley standing speechless beside the road. For all of his bad attitude, Bradley always did what he thought was best for the Church and to keep the peace, never did he anticipate it would lead to deals with such monsters. He was in over his head, but there was little else to do but try to ride it out.
* * *
Bill had been sitting back in the chair of his armoury for half an hour. He swigged back on the whiskey bottle at regular intervals, barely noticing that he was doing so. Suddenly, he sat upright in his chair and put the bottle down. He unclipped his web belt and put it on the desk beside him, pulling the Mateba from its holster.
Marshall simply sat and studied the revolver for a minute, looking at the engineering marvel, which it was. He popped open the cylinder and dropped out the cases, half live and half spent. The gun was already becoming clogged and dirty from powder residue, he had neglected to clean it during the previous few days. Taking out some gun oil, a rag and cleaning rod, he went about the job.
Cleaning the Mateba was a therapeutic experience for Bill. Guns had always felt natural in his hands, in fact, any weapon had. Marshall had been born for war, a soldier of God perhaps. He put the gun down, the smell of fresh oil still on his hands, and laid back in the chair to rest. Almost instantly he was asleep, both mentally and physically exhausted.
Several hours later he woke up, slouched in his chair. It was still dark outside, he checked his watch, it was four am. Marshall wandered back upstairs to check on Harriet. He walked into the dark room, his eyes not fully adjusting to the darkness.
“Hey,” said Harriet.
She was still lying where he’d left her, she was lucid but drowsy. Bill walked over to the chair beside the bed and sat down. She turned her head to look at him but made no other attempt to move.
“Where am I?”
“This is my home these days.”
“Nice, you really know how to show a girl a good time.”
Her words were slurred, she was still feeling the effects of the tranquiliser.
“How did I get here?”
“We were attacked at Mackenzie’s. You were hit with a tranquiliser gun.”
Judge of the Damned (Vampire Storm, Book 1) Page 12