Martin waited a second to see if she was done.
“Well?”
Apparently, she was.
Martin squared his jaw and said three words that were sure to fuel the flames of her ire.
“I don’t know.”
He stared at her, she glared back at him. He could see the logic synapses firing in her brain.
If anything, she was the brightest he had. Hell, the brightest he had ever known. If he could have a just a few more years with her out in the field, there was no telling how many cases she would close.
As it was, Mother Nature was being a real black-hearted bitch. Bethany Anne had a very rare blood disease. One they never even had the ability to check for until recently. The doctors, although not 100% sure, pretty much had her at less than six months to live.
With her only at twenty-eight years old, it was literally a crying shame. Martin admitted doing a little of the crying himself when no one looked.
Other than the physician, he was the only other soul who knew.
She wouldn’t even tell her father. He raised her on all of that male testosterone bullshit he was indoctrinated with from the military. Figures, Martin thought. Treat her like a boy and see what you get. Never easy to get close to, and since her mom died at near the same age of unexplained causes, it was most likely genetic and passed down and she was the first and only child.
Getting to the end of her logic chain she narrowed her eyes. “If my father so much as mentions my condition before I can tell him I will personally fly back to Washington and kick your boys so hard you will sing falsetto until Christmas!”
Martin put up his hands. “Duly noted, Bethany Anne, and for the record I’m innocent. I would not abuse your trust like that.” Martin didn’t even bother with the insubordination. Bethany Anne never meant to hurt friends, but her temper was also apparently genetic considering the rumors about her father’s famous anger.
Cooling down, Bethany Anne strode over to the two chairs in front of Martin’s desk and sat in one, tapping the paper against one of her Christian Louboutin’s she really enjoyed wearing when not out of the office.
The only reason Martin knew them was because of the red soles.
He counted silently in his head, expected to hit thirty before her next question, he got to seventeen.
“If you didn’t tell the General, and I’m still on the team,” it was obvious this paper she was tapping on her shoes were proper orders and she was still gainfully employed, “why the hell am I being sent out to the middle of the country?”
“That,” Martin stated, “is the question of the morning.”
CHAPTER TWO
Military Base, Colorado Mountains
“Sir, everything is good. The air inside the vault is now fresh enough and the only issues on the envelope are nothing, really. The vault must have been hermetically sealed and basically a perfect preservative. Everything in there was exactly how it was when it was sealed.” The scientist, one Dr. John Evenich, rattled off the whole thing as if he was giving a lecture.
Techs, the General and his Sergeant were all down on Level 5.
The General looked down at the smaller man and chewed an unlit cigar while thinking this through.
“And exactly when, John, did that happen?” The General looked up and saw two more scientists going through the room. There wasn’t much to see. It was approximately ten feet wide and fifteen long, with a conference style table in the middle and four chairs. Three were at one end, each on a side and the fourth on the far end as if it was the ‘head’ of the table. There was a knife on a stand in the middle. No one touched it and it also had a phrase inlaid on the hilt. Lance couldn’t be sure as it seemed to be in a different language but he had a good guess what it probably meant.
Dr. Evenich looked at his paperwork, “Um, August 24th, 1945.”
“So, about two weeks after they dropped the atomic bombs?” General Reynolds continued chewing on his cigar.
“Yes.” Dr. Evenich was feeling a little less excited under the continued scrutiny of the base commander. While not officially his superior, different chain of command, the scientists were here on his ‘continued good pleasure’ – shorthand for don’t piss him off.
“Well, give me the envelope and I am going up to my office, it’s too hot down here.” With that, he reached out to have the envelope pulled off of the door.
Dr. Evenich’s eyes grew wide, “But General, the significance! We can’t just grab it and go, we need to see what is on it, test particulars. It will be scientifically ruined by our hands just touching it!”
General Reynold’s head swiveled to stare at the doctor, never taking his hand down from demanding the envelope.
“Dr. Evenich, this says ‘To the Base Commander, on his honor’, and trust me, when someone says that from 1945, they were NEVER thinking about scientists looking at it for clues. I believe this is important, this isn’t a democracy and I’m done discussing the subject. Sergeant, step to and give me that envelope, men come out of that room. Leave one guard here to make sure no more intrusions happen. Get those men out and no one, and I mean NO ONE, touch that knife until I say it is OK. Am I clear?”
A heady group of ‘Yes Sirs!’ were called out.
“John?” The General very specifically eyed Dr. Evenich and waited, the envelope brought to him.
Dr. John Evenich, seeing his most prized historical object taken away to be pawed by apes after he and others had worked eight months in the base, just shook his head.
Maybe it would be OK to shine light in there and get some pictures? Dr. Evenich walked off and started calling instructions to his people.
New York City, New York
Carl waited until the Michael, the patriarch of the family, came out of his personal residence inside the massive home. Michael was dressed in a very well fitted three-piece suit of dark blue with light grey pin striping, white shirt and silver cufflinks. Michael looked a young and robust fifty, but Carl knew he was way older physically. He just wasn’t sure how old. There was barely any grey in his black hair.
It had taken about two hours for Michael to appear from his inner sanctum once Carl had requested his presence. Unlike a normal sleep, it took a lot to get through Michael’s torpor when he was actively hibernating.
While he was externally calm and collected, one only looked into Michael’s piercing blue eyes to realize the anger that boiled within.
He walked past Carl who bowed and followed him out of the residence section of the converted building and into the business and operations area. Carl noticed that he was just as well built and muscular as he remembered him five years ago when he went into the residence.
It was as if he hadn’t aged a day.
Michael had been expecting to be awakened in five more years. He had checked the date in his residence and this was too early, he immediately released his senses to first confirm the residence was safe, and then checked on his connection to his grandchild here in America.
When he couldn’t ‘feel’ William, he knew the reason for being awoken. Now he wanted answers.
Carl spoke up, “Sir, I’ve edited a video clip of the operation. It is ready for you to play.”
Michael sat down at his desk and woke up his laptop. It was a five-year-old model since Michael had no ability to keep up with the operating system changes between times of sleep and wakefulness and learn the new system, so he kept the old operating system until he was accustomed with using the laptop for a few days. At least it wasn’t as bad as last time when he had to come to grips with the Internet, he thought.
He hit the play button on the machine and watched the fifteen minutes of relevant material on how his grandchild had died.
By the end he had some ideas on what might have happened. Not that he could figure out how they were able to retrieve the serum, or know what to do with it. Both of those questions needed answering.
However, it did indicate one very important piece. He couldn’t just
find a good candidate and train them, or have one his children’s children take William’s place like he had done for a long time.
No, this time he needed someone fully trained within the military here in the U.S. Also, it was a consideration that he might need to rejuvenate if he was going to be involved in this campaign.
He would have to request a pre-trained candidate. He had to call on his debt owed his family.
“Carl, did you start the request through the Primary Contact?”
“Yes sir, Frank is still with us, so he is taking care of a lot at that end.”
“Good, confirm my request officially with Frank. I want to know what they are going to send us before I go to the vault. I want to know what three candidates are waiting for me.”
Here we go, thought Carl.
“Sir, we have a preliminary report through Frank. I’m sorry, but since the last time we implemented the request for Debt of Honor, the military has been getting very good with filtering out potentially unhealthy recruits. The military doesn’t want to invest in training to find out that investment will die soon.”
Carl thought about the requirements for candidates. As he understood them it was pretty simple. The candidates had to be trained and top 25% in martial skills, very bright intellectually, live with purpose and (strangely enough for a vampire) very religious. Finally, while the religion tended to cut their options the last one very nearly did them in.
They had to die in the next six months.
Washington, D.C.
Frank was notified that Michael was awake and that the debt was being called due.
Frank sighed. It wasn’t that the request was unexpected. In fact, since Bill was killed, Frank could have won a major bet that this time the requirements were going to be very strict. The last time this occurred was before any of the military or spooks had tied their first bootie or put on their first baby shoe.
This was going to ruffle a few feathers. God help us all if anyone didn’t step up.
Frank was old enough, and he had been around when Michael’s Debt of Honor was demanded. Some of the military people on the base made it through alive that night because one, just one of those guys, had the honor Michael demanded.
Unfortunately, it took 250 deaths before anyone figured out Michael was not joking with his request that honor was due his family.
A few heads rolled that night, literally.
Military Base, Colorado Mountains
Up in his office, the General was left with Patricia and the Sergeant.
“Kevin, give me some privacy but stay close. Patricia, hold my calls.”
Sergeant Kevin McCoullagh waited for Patricia to step through the door and then shut it, staying outside the door at parade rest.
Patricia went to her phone bank and set up a routing for all calls to the General to come to her station.
Inside the office, Lance sat down behind his desk and just looked at the envelope for a second. Well, nothing would get accomplished if he just stared at the outside of the envelope.
He opened his left top-most drawer and pulled out a metal letter opener, this one with a bald eagle on the handle and the feet grabbing the blade. It was a relic as old as he was.
Sliding the blade up through the crease, it really did feel like it was a fresh envelope, he opened the letter and started reading.
August 24, 1945
Attn: Current Base Commander
If you are reading this document, then you are in trying times. If you are not aware of any at this time I feel certain this is due to ignorance, most likely.
Be aware you will receive a call both explaining this vault, and your responsibilities on your honor (there was that phrase again) to support the request of Agent Smith (no, I don’t know his real name, nor does anyone else).
Be aware that this situation is extremely sensitive and most information about it was very close to the vest. In fact, most people won’t believe you anyway.
Lance stopped reading, reached over to his phone and punched a button, “Patricia!”
“Yes, General?”
“Call down to Five and tell John and his henchmen that they are kicked out, if he gives you any lip, tell Kevin to go down with a few guys and bring them up.” With that, he punched off the call and went back to reading.
“Without giving further information than is my right, I will say on my honor that without the help and support of Agent Smith and his family we might have failed to catch the true danger coming from Hiroshima and Nagasaki and selected different cities. There were three agents, not Americans, who went into the cities and brought us proof that Japan was creating mutated soldiers and were getting ready to deploy these soldiers in the war.
In order for there to be no doubt that the base, the soldiers, and the scientists were still inside, these three agents stayed close to the base to personally verify nothing left those bases before the strike occurred.
They were there when the bombs were dropped.
We owe them so much, we returned so little.
When this vault opened, a request against our debt, our honorable debt, is being made.
On my honor this day I plead with you to honor our debt.”
Lance read it a second time. Family helped us? Lance thought that strange. Maybe they were from Japan?
He slid the letter back in the envelope and was lost deep in thought for a few minutes.
His phone, starting to ring, pulled him out of this deep thoughts. He yelled to the door, “Patricia, I said hold ALL calls!” Damn, she was getting a little out of bounds not listening to orders. That needed to stop.
The phone switched over to conference call mode without Lance touching it.
“General,” a deep, gravelly voice said, “I assure you, Patricia took all the right steps. It took me an extra thirty seconds to bypass her main control panel to contact you directly.”
“And you are?” replied the General, staring at the phone as if he was deciding whether to shoot it, or just beat it senseless. No need to be too up-this-guy’s-ass until he knew who to give the verbal enema to.
“The man who is about to tell you the past, the future and the vault.”
New York City, New York
Michael looked up at Carl standing across from his desk. “Carl, are you informing me that within all of the military, there is and I quote ‘only one’ candidate that will fulfill the debt of honor?” His blue eyes were piercing Carl.
Michael was very, very touchy about honor. With him, it should always be capitalized.
“Unfortunately, yes sir.”
Pursing his lips, Michael asked the follow-up question, “And this candidate is a woman?”
Not knowing where Michael was going with this, he never seemed sexist to Carl, he simply agreed, “Yes.”
Michael became quiet and reflective for a moment.
Michael could hear Carl’s thoughts, and he was right. Michael wasn’t sexist in the least. However, Michael, for all of his children over the years, had never had a direct daughter.
He had a great-granddaughter in Europe by the name of Gabrielle, but he had never met her. She was one of his son Stephen’s children. That child had never tried creating a daughter ever again.
Not that he ever heard negative things about her activities, she always produced results. Michael just got the impression it came with a little extra baggage for the effort.
While that was one consideration, a more important concern was how often female conversions failed. So far, they only had two successful turns in eight centuries – Gabrielle and one other in Asia. He called that great-great-granddaughter Sunshine because he felt her full name was too much to deal with.
Many women decided the pain they went through during the transformation was too much to endure. Death was a welcome respite, all too often. Better to choose death than become a Nosferatu and be killed when they awoke.
Michael knew this since he, literally, wrote the rule to kill them.
Mich
ael looked up at Carl.
“She meets all aspects of the candidate requirements?” While Frank was very good, and Michael didn’t doubt his ability, he wanted Carl’s thoughts on the matter.
“Yes sir. Actually she is a rare achiever. She is top three percent in martial prowess. While she is strong, she isn’t a man and therefore there is a slight deficit. She ranked highest in Intellectual Capability on all of her tests. She comes from a family where both sides have been military for decades and her father is presently a General. Her drive is to protect the people within the country.”
Death Becomes Her Page 2