Wake’s smile widened, “That is, of course, if strain Delta proves out.”
Pakow nodded. “I understand the possible ramifications, as well as the potential for something unforeseen happening. God knows we don’t want another Marco on our hands, but I think he would rather-”
Wake held up his hand to silence the other man, and turned to look at the tank. He thought about it for a moment. Finally he turned back to Pakow and clapped one skeletal hand on the small man’s arm. “You make a good point, though it’s not so much that which sways me. No, you’ve shown me something else, If Delta doesn’t prove out, the young man will die. No exceptions. However, if Delta works, then our problems with Marco D’imato may vanish.”
He laughed again. “All right, Dr. Pakow, you have my permission. However, before we administer the treatment, I want a full battery run on Delta, from RNA reversion to white cell count. The works. You’re going to have to bust your hump to have all that ready by the time he’s finally prepped.”
The relief on Pakow’s face made Wake a trifle uncomfortable, but he let it pass. “I’ll do it all, no problem,” Pakow said, and even managed a smile.
Wake looked at him for just a moment longer before getting up to leave the room. As he waited for the contamination seal to begin unlocking, he spoke over his shoulder. “This man’s work must be extraordinary. Remind me to come to your home to see it some time.”
In the glass, Wake caught Pakow’s shudder of revulsion, but his voice was steady. “Of course, Dr. Wake. I would be most pleased for you to come over and see it.”
Wake walked through the door and headed for his personal quarters, two levels down.
10
Susceptibility to sunlight is the only thing preventing vampires from becoming the dominant lift form on this planet. If Ordo Maximus succeeds in creating an HMHVV strain without that weakness, vampires will no longer be detectable except by sophisticated blood tests, and this new anonymity will enable them to take over every institution in society with no one the wiser until it is far too late. Humans and metahumans will be doomed, save for those few kept alive to breed the vampires’ food supply.
–
Martin de Vries, Shadows at Noon, posted to Shadowland BBS, 24 May 2057
By the time Rachel had walked the five blocks back to Warren’s doss, the anticipation of the upcoming meeting was making her giddy with excitement. Finally, she was going to meet Flak’s team of runners.
She was worried about Warren, but she had confidence in Flak; his team’s rep was among the best. Also, de Vries was obviously a creature of uncanny power and resources. How could Warren’s captors hope to succeed? They had no idea who and what they were up against.
Rachel tried to calm herself, but the excitement that kept grabbing hold also kept her from paying attention to what she was doing. She’d already walked the final half-block to Warren’s doss before she realized something was different, and by then it was too late.
A Toyota Elite limousine idled in front of Warren’s place, its huge engine making just the slightest vibration in the muggy air.
Rachel was so busy wondering why de Vries had ordered a limo that she didn’t even notice the two armed men standing in the shadows near the doorway until she was only steps away.
She took a deep breath to keep from screaming, and continued walking past the doss. Her mind kicked into overdrive. and the only thing she could think was what a fool she’d been to trust de Vries. He was obviously in cahoots with the sick vampire from the picture. Who else but a corporate boss would roll around in a car like that and have huge bodyguards with such obvious mods?
She was just past the doorway when one of the guards stepped up to block her path. He was human, standing just shy of two meters, and was impossibly wide. His brown suit fit awkwardly over his misshapen frame, and the gleam of metal in the socket of his left eye gave him a corpse-like expression.
“Miss Harlan,” he said. “Where are you going?” He smiled, but that did nothing to quell the bolt of fear that shot through Rachel, turning her bowels to water.
“You got the wrong chica, chummer.” She tried to sidestep him, but he moved easily to block her.
“Please, Miss Harlan, no harm will come to you. We were told to expect you, and Wolf and Mister de Vries are waiting.”
That stopped her. “Wolf?”
“Yes, he’s inside, and he is somewhat pressed for time.”
Rachel knew about Wolf and Raven. What runner didn’t? They were like the Robin Hoods of the Seattle sprawl, like white rumors starving mothers might tell their children when the little ones had to go to sleep hungry. Something like, “Go to sleep and maybe tomorrow Wolf and Raven will stop by. Then everything will be all right. But if you’re bad. Kid Stealth will come with his metal feet.”
Rachel had heard about them too often, and from people she trusted, for there not to be something behind the tales. Still, she couldn’t believe that the man she was about to meet could possibly be the same person.
She turned and climbed the stairs to the door, then went inside. Warren’s doss was better lit than it had been last time she’d been here, and she could smell fresh coffee. Not soykaf, but real, honest-to-god coffee. The smell made her mouth water. She’d only had real coffee once, and the taste was unforgettable, so rich and dark and strong. It made soykaf taste like bitter swill.
Rachel became aware of low voices as she stepped into the living room.
“Welcome back, Miss Harlan. Did everything go well?” It was de Vries. He was sitting with his back to her, not even bothering to turn to see if it really was her. She shrugged the thought away. If he was so powerful, he would have known she was coming even before she entered the doss.
Still, de Vries wasn’t what held her attention.
The man sitting opposite him was small, but exuded power. a brutal physical magnetism that at once attracted and repelled her. He was older by a good twenty years, going gray around the muzzle and on the sides of his full head of hair, but his face was smooth. Except where scars tracked its surface.
He wore a gray flannel suit that showed off his powerful physique without sacrificing class. His back was straight and proud, and in one hand, he had a cane. Its tip rested on the floor as he twisted the silver wolf’s-head handle in a lazy circle.
Even as all these things registered, she caught his eye, and for just that instant, she knew how a wild thing must feel when caught in the glare of headlights. Fascination and fear threatened to overwhelm her, and she thought she would just stand there, mid-stride, and stare into those killer eyes until he casually walked over and ripped out her throat.
The second passed, and suddenly she was looking into a normal pair of eyes again, pleasant brown with flecks of gray. The man smiled and stood up, leaning heavily on his cane for support. His grin was the most comforting thing she’d seen that night.
“Good evening, Miss Harlan. My name is Wolfgang Kies. I’m sorry if I startled you.”
Rachel swallowed and forced herself to continue into the room. “It’s a pleasure to meet you… Mister Kies.” This was more than she could ever have imagined. In all those nights, lying awake and thinking about the shadows, thinking about what it would be like to run them, she’d never imagined that one day she would be face to face with the man known as Wolf. The tremor of excitement shed felt walking back to the doss was replaced with a quake of excitement, and for the briefest instant, she let herself forget why she was here, forget the reason behind Wolf’s visit.
He walked painfully over to her, favoring his left leg, but the smile never left his face. He took her hand gently in his, and led her to the chair he’d just vacated. “Please sit. Martin was just filling me in on what’s been going on. I sympathize with your situation. Miss Harlan. But-”
“Rachel.”
Wolf turned to her with a look of mild surprise, as if he were unused to being interrupted. “Excuse me?”
“My name is Rachel. Everybody keeps calli
ng me ‘Miss Harlan’ tonight, and it’s making me uncomfortable. Miss Harlan was my mother.”
Wolf turned to de Vries, who smiled as Wolf let out a small laugh. “You’re right, Martin. I like her.” He turned back to Rachel. “As I was saying, I just got the scan on your situation, and I was telling Martin I wish I could help. Unfortunately, my own team’s got some big problems right now.”
De Vries laughed softly. “I must admit, I was surprised to see you in a limo, let alone with bodyguards.”
Wolf’s smile faded slightly, “Raven’s orders. Until this whole matter is settled, no one in the organization is to travel without protection. It chafes a bit, but I understand his reasoning. And that, of course, is the same reason I can’t give you much help at this moment.”
De Vries sighed, but Rachel didn’t think he looked especially surprised. “I thought you might say that, but I had to ask. I know you’ve got your plate pretty full right now. I could probably convince you that this situation is big enough to warrant you leaving off whatever else you’re doing and help us, but I wont put you in that position. Still, I thank you for coming down on such short notice.”
Wolf’s smile faded completely for the first time since Rachel had entered the room, and a look of infinite sadness crept into those deadly eyes. “Of course, Martin. It’s been too long, and I know you wouldn’t have called if the situation weren’t dire. I simply don’t have the resources to back your play right now. After what happened to Kid Stealth, we’ve been up to our neck in this thing.”
De Vries nodded. “Will he pull through?”
Wolf smiled again, but now it was a tight thing, one just barely holding back the anger. “Yes. But it’s put us in a very awkward situation, and Raven’s out for blood.”
De Vries stood, in a swift motion that made Rachel wince involuntarily, but that seemed to have no effect on Wolf. The two shook hands, and she got the feeling they had once been very close.
“My friend,” said Wolf softly, “don’t let it be so long next time. The rest of us age a lot faster than you do.”
De Yries laughed. “If I live through this, I promise we’ll head to the country and do some night hunting. Swear.”
Wolf held de Vries’ grip for a moment more, then dropped his hand and began to limp to the door. At the door he turned, as if he’d just remembered something. “The least I can do is arrange safe transport through Hell’s Kitchen for you. We don’t want things to go south on you before you even get to where you’re going.”
De Vries nodded without saying anything.
Wolf smiled, and pulled a card out of his jacket. “Call this number when you’re ready to go in. Use my name and you won’t have any problems.”
“Goodbye, my friend.”
“Goodbye.” Wolf turned his gaze to Rachel again, and gave her a brief, sad smile. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Rachel. What you’re up against isn’t going to be pretty, but trust Martin. He knows what he’s doing, and despite how he looks, he really is one of the good guys.”
Rachel watched silently as the man left, feeling as if she’d understood only about a quarter of what had just transpired.
De Vries turned back to the room and smiled, but unlike Wolf’s good-natured grin, the vampire’s made her shiver. “Well, I wasn’t actually expecting his help, but it never hurts to ask. How did things go on your end?”
Rachel pulled a smoke out of her bag, and lit it. She checked the clock on the trid rig. “Flak’ll be here in about an hour. He and his friends will hear you out, then decide.”
De Vries’ smile grew even wider. “Excellent.”
11
You’re telling me that after all I’ve done for you, after I’ve discovered a procedure that will net you billions in nuyen, you now have the audacity to question my methods? The Leonizarion process is the pinnacle of life-lengthening procedures, and you now seek grounds to dismiss me? Are you mad?
–
Oslo Wake, defending his use of metahuman subjects before the Board of Ethics and Review, Universal Omnitech New York City. Transcript #ETH678 p. 347, 20 September 2051
Raul Pakow pulled the needle from Warren D’imato’s arm and set it on the small metal tray. Warren looked op at him, dazed. He’d come to in the operating theater, where Pakow was carrying out various preparatory procedures. Pakow was trying to tell him quickly what was going on.
“Which piece did you buy?” Warren asked.
“I purchased ‘Past Battles’ at a show of your work a year or so ago. Down in the 11 District.”
Warren’s look of confusion turned to one of distant pleasure. He was about to speak but Pakow cut him off. “That piece of stone is the only thing keeping you alive right now. Like I said, the man who owns this place has plans for you that you couldn’t imagine in your worst nightmares. I was blind for awhile, but not anymore. Now. I know I’ve got to try and stop this madness, but if Wake were to find out what I’ve done, there’s no telling what might happen. I’ve put my whole family at risk trying to help you. Something’s happened to him, and it gets worse everyday. He was always strange, but now he seems downright certifiable.”
Pakow looked down at Warren, whose eyes had become unfocused. “You rest now. Someone should be coming soon to help you. I make no promises, but I’ll do what I can to get you out of here.”
Pakow put the protective straps back in place, then went over to the deck on the console. Jacking into the Matrix, he followed a series of maneuvers he’d been using for almost four months, and found himself in a small drop box.
As quickly as he could, he left a message. I’ve bought us some more time, but not much. You must pick up the package within forty-eight hours, or else it will be spoiled.
Pakow didn’t bother putting a name to the message. He knew that de Vries would figure it out. Jacking out, he took one last look at Warren D’imato, and shuddered. He hoped the vampire hunter was as good as his word, because he suddenly felt as if he’d put all of his chips into one slot, and if that slot didn’t hold, he wouldn’t survive.
12
De Vries uses a variety of strategies when hunting vampires. He prefers to battle them hand-to-hand, draining blood and essence from his targets. A curious magical artifact he discovered on an Indonesian trip in 2045 is said to give him an edge in such duels, though its nature is unknown. However; in the case of an exceptionally dangerous opponent, he has been known to hire samurai with extreme capabilities-explosives and frag-lethal fire and blast results.
–
Posted to Shadowland BBS by Doktor Freeman and the Deathcore Kid, 22 March 2055
Rachel paced her way around the living room for what seemed the thousandth time. Then she walked over to the now-overflowing ashtray and stubbed out her cigarette with a fierce jabbing motion.
Seated on the blue futon, de Vries reached into his duster and pulled out his pack of Platinum Selects, Rachel had run out of smokes almost thirty minutes ago, and they had fallen into a pattern. She would pace, gulping coffee and smoking until she’d finished her cigarette, at which time de Vries, without being asked, would give her another. Then the process would repeat while he himself continued to chain-smoke.
“If you don’t mind my saying so, Rachel, if you have one more cup of coffee, I think your head might explode. That is, if your lungs don’t collapse first.”
Rachel turned to him angrily. “I do mind,” She took a deep drag of her cigarette.
De Vries laughed. “Well, it’s nice to see that you no longer have any fear of me. But you might want to consider being more polite. After all, I’m the one doing you a favor.”
There was a small beep, and De Vries looked at his wrist-phone. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.” He answered the call. Rachel watched him talk quietly, expecting bad news, but suddenly his face brightened. “That is good news. You’re sure of the origin of the message? Excellent.”
He disconnected, and looked up at Rachel with a small smile. “It would appear that we’ve been g
iven a little more time than I’d originally thought. Still, it isn’t as much as I’d have liked.”
Rachel turned toward the door again, and her frustration boiled to the surface. “Where in the hell are they? They should have been here already.”
She turned to look at de Vries, who had a faraway look in his eyes. “Your friends are very close, my dear. Very close, indeed. In fact, I’m quite impressed.”
Rachel’s forehead suddenly prickled with sweat. “What are you talking about?”
De Vries’ eyes snapped back into focus. “Your friends are most cunning. Tricky, tricky, tricky. They’ll be here in a few moments, so I suggest you have a seat. It wouldn’t do for them to get over-anxious, so why don’t you come and sit next to me?”
Rachel continued to look at him without comprehension.
“My dear,” said De Vries again. “What I’m trying to tell you is that you’re about to be treated to a sight few people not connected with the military ever get to see. So, sit down. Now.”
Almost without realizing she was doing it, Rachel crossed the room and sat down shoulder to shoulder with De Vries.
As she relaxed into the sofa cushions, the lights in the apartment seemed to dim, flickered twice, and then came back up.
Rachel jumped as the figure of Flak seemed to materialize suddenly in the center of the living room. Towering only a few steps away. Flak had changed out of his work outfit, and was now dressed in heavy camos that seemed to shift and swirl in the light, making it hard for Rachel to look at them. He wore a hood she recognized as a balaclava, even though it was pushed back upon his forehead. She could just make out the handle of a big gun strapped to Flak’s back, but near his hip, where the barrel should have been, she could see six small barrels, configured in a circle. She’d never seen anything like it, and just the sight of such a piece of hardware sent a small thrill through her.
“There won’t be any show,” said the troll, opening his hands to show they were empty.
The Terminus experiment s-34 Page 9