“Anything I should know?” said Anna. She ran her cool hands, clad in black latex gloves, around my neck.
“Broken arm,” I said, my voice unsteady. “Couple of cracked ribs.”
“No neck injuries? Nothing spinal?” she asked.
“Nothing a week at the beach wouldn't fix.”
“Good,” she replied. “We can move him. Let's get him up.”
There was a brief burst of gunfire from further inside the house. Then a much louder roar. Sounded like a grenade going off.
“Cam!” Bolt yelled. “We are decamping!”
The two werewolves came running in the door, Cam pausing long enough to fire a couple more grenades from his launcher.
He turned and gave me a grin. Blood was leaking sluggishly from a wound in his upper arm.
“You ok?” I asked.
“Just a flesh wound,” he replied with a passable imitation of the Black Knight.
Marie and Anna hauled me to my feet, sending flashes of pain through my body. I grit my teeth and moved towards the broken window, supported by my mate.
Bolt ducked out in front of us and said something in Farsi that sounded like a curse.
“We have a problem, boss,” he said.
Outside I could see the grounds of the house. Why did all these vampires live in such big houses out here? Did no vamp live in a two-up, two-down? Come to think of it, the image was ridiculous. Vamps lived in big houses. It was as simple as that. I realized that my mind was drifting and snapped myself back to reality with a shake of my head.
The grounds sloped away into the darkness. Darkness broken, however, by headlights.
Several vehicles were driving towards us, bumping across the uneven land.
“I'm guessing that's not friendly,” I said.
“Probably not,” said John.
“Can we run?” I asked.
“We could,” said John. “You probably couldn't.”
Suddenly Marie turned under my arm and swept me up, cradling me like a baby, my bum arm tucked between us. She took off running like a whippet.
Every jolt made my injuries yell in protest. I kept my teeth clenched to avoid crying out in pain. Marie leaped over something, coming down with a surprisingly soft thump. Then she ran again. I risked a look over her shoulder. Anna and John were keeping up with us, barely, with Cam and the other werewolf behind them, both bringing up the rear. About half of the sets of headlamps were headed towards the house. The lights from the grounds showed them as more Humvees. The rest, four in total, had veered off to intercept us. From the speed and distance it looked like we would reach the wall first, but not by much.
Marie leaped, catching the top of the wall in one paw and swung us both over. Anna and John cam next, boosted over, I assume by the two werewolves. Then Bolt and finally Cam and our new friend, whoever he was. By now there were already scattered voices yelling at us to stop. Marie put me down and I managed to keep my knees from buckling and my stomach from heaving.
“Stop!” came an amplified voice from above. A painfully bright spotlight shone down and the helicopter noises got louder.
“Stay where you are. Drop your weapons and put your hands on your heads.”
Vehicles were coming towards us on the road that ran alongside the wall.
“Aw fuck.” I said. “So close.”
My SIG hit the ground with a soft thump, followed by everyone else's weapons. I grunted in pain but managed to get my hands up.
“Sheriff's Department,” boomed the voice. “You are under arrest.”
“Sheriff?” I said puzzled. For an instant my mind threw up and image of Robin Hood and I had to suppress a tired laugh. At least we hadn't been captured by the vamps. The vehicles rattled to a stop and uniformed figures jumped out. We were handcuffed and pulled towards the biggest vehicle, a paddy wagon. The guy who had me by my arm saw me grimace when he pulled.
“Careful,” I hissed. “That's broken.”
“I don't care,” he said in a low voice. “And you shouldn't either. Just get in for God's sake.”
The deputy helped me into the back along with everybody else as the helicopter circled, keeping its spotlight on the ground.
“You are under arrest for breaking and entering,” said a huge guy standing by the open door. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do say can and will be taken down and may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney one will be provided for you. You have the right to remain silent....”
He went on, droning the list of our rights as we were loaded, one by one, into the back of the van.
I was utterly drained, sitting, trying to find a position which didn't make me feel like somebody was gripping my arm in a pair of bolt croppers. Eventually I gave up and leaned back against the wall of the van. I had no illusions. If the vampires wanted us, they'd probably get us.
The last two people into the back of the wagon were two burly men in sheriff's uniforms. Both were holding old fashioned shotguns with wooden stocks and pumps. The doors closed and the van started to move.
Marie was sitting opposite me, back in her human form. And she was smiling. The big brown werewolf had changed, too, revealing a dark-skinned human form not much smaller than the wolf. He was grinning.
“Someone want to let me in on the joke?” I said wearily.
“Hey Tyler,” said the werewolf. “Nicely done. Terry and Kyle make it through, then?”
The guy in the sheriff's uniform was going down the line, unlocking everyone's cuffs. When he got to me he paused to lock eyes.
“You must be the Jack we've been hearing about,” he said.
“That's me,” I replied.
“Well, this is going hurt, man,” he said as he bent over me. “Sorry about the rough handling out there.”
I grimaced as he removed the cuffs.
“You okay, bro?” said the sheriff.
I sat back, cradling my arm in my good hand.
“Fine,” I said. “Or I will be after a couple of weeks on the beach sipping piña coladas.”
“Hey, if this goes the way I think it will I'll join you,” he replied with a wry smile.
When he unlocked Anna she darted over to sit next to me, taking my arm. She ran her fingertips across the skin.
“Brace yourself, boss,” she said, then probed the bone by pushing in with her fingers.
A lance of pain shot through me.
“Oh yeah, definitely broken,” she said. “Feels like it's in the right place, which is a godsend at least.”
She unpacked her medical kit and began to pull items out. She started with a roll of foam-covered metal which she unrolled and folded in half and molded to the underside of my arm.
“Just a splint,” she said, “to keep you from doing any more damage.”
She wrapped the arm and splint in dark green bandages.
“Should hold you for a while,” she said. “I'm guessing you won't want pain medicine.”
“Not unless you can give me something that won't knock me out.”
She was checking my face and neck.
“Yeah, got all the acetaminophen and ibuprofen you want. Anything stronger and we risk you going to la-la land.”
“If it'll take the edge off.”
“Yep. You seem to be okay otherwise. Eyes and speech as alert as you'll ever get.”
I smiled weakly.
“Sense of humor, a bit low but we can put that down to fatigue. You aren't going back in command yet. John's got that.”
I caught John's eye and gave him a nod, receiving one I return.
“Once we get you somewhere safe we'll wrap those ribs,” she rummaged in her bag and came out with a couple of pills and a water bottle. “Here, these will help a little.”
The sheriff—Tyler—was talking on his radio, a look of concern on his face.
“Something up, sheriff?” I asked.
“Yeah, a little,” he replied. “
Seems we've had a group of State Police officers turn up at the office. They're claiming jurisdiction and want us to turn you over when we arrive.”
“Well that puts a spanner in the works,” I said.
I swallowed the pills and wondered what now.
“Do the State Police have the right to take custody?” I asked.
“They would if she was genuinely wanted, but she's not,” replied Tyler. “The guy who came into my office today said they were looking for Ms. Marie here because of crimes committed in Atlanta and that makes her the jurisdiction of the US Marshals' service, not the State Police, which is how we're going to get away with this.”
“With what?”
“About four miles ahead, the road goes through a dense forest. The view of our helicopter will be temporarily blocked. Somebody just happened to have left a spike strip across the road. When we hit it you'll overpower me and my three deputies and make your escape. The person who left the spike strips just happens to be waiting with some SUVs to take you to a safe house in pack territory. I'll give you about five minutes head start then call the Marshals. Of course, they'll have never heard of Ms Marie so the confusion and argument should buy you all the time you need. And one more thing. If you decide to pay us a visit again, I'd appreciate it if you stopped by to say hello first.”
I glanced up and met his smiling eyes.
“Sounds good to me, Sheriff. Thanks for all your help.”
“No problem.”
He listened to his radio for a few seconds, then nodded.
“Brace yourselves, this is going to be rough.”
The first thing we heard was the bang of tires bursting. Then the vehicle shuddered and bounced as it hit the road on its rims. We were thrown forward by the sudden deceleration and then sideways as the van slewed around in a half circle. We came to a shuddering stop.
John stood up and took the shotgun from Tyler.
“Now, if your deputies would care to take a seat we'll make a run for it,” he said.
We finished relieving the deputies of their weapons and jumped out the back of the van. Behind us had been a sheriff's patrol car, all four tires punctured by the same spike strips as had brought the van to such a shuddering stop. Standing on the side of the road by a motley collection of off-road vehicles was a group of young men.
“Kyle!” said Marie. “Glad to see you again.”
“You too, Marie,” he replied. “But we need to get moving. We don't have long apparently.”
Above us the helicopter was visible through the trees, pointing its spotlight down on the road ahead.
For the first time since we'd left England, I felt relaxed about the chances of us getting out of this alive.
CHAPTER
49
Jack was dozing, somehow, in the back of the Hercules transport plane. The noise inside the cargo hold was deafening and we were all wearing ear protectors, but he'd managed to fall asleep.
Escaping from the US had been disturbingly easy. We'd taken a short, bumpy ride to a large farm run by a pair of werewolves. From there, after a night's sleep and plenty to eat, we had driven north and simply crossed the border into Canada. I was stunned at how little it had taken. Kyle and Terry had driven into Prescott County and had managed to lay their hands on some fake Canadian passports. They never said where they'd gotten them from but I strongly suspected Tyler was involved somewhere. Especially given that Natasha was the one who had delivered them to us.
From the Canadian border we went to the Embassy and were shuttled to a Canadian Air Force base in Nova Scotia and loaded on to a Royal Air Force Hercules that just happened to be there. Suspicious timing but nobody was about to argue.
We took off and for the next few hours it was constant noise and discomfort. We were given food halfway through the flight in the form of white cardboard boxes. Inside were suspicious sandwiches, bags of bargain basement crisps—the choice seemed to be cheese and onion or cheese and onion—a slightly soft Penguin bar, and a can of Panda cola. These last seemed to be a joke. The back of a bumpy, bouncy cargo place was hardly the place for fizzy drink. More than one of us found this out to our cost.
Everyone was thrilled when John opened his bag to reveal he'd stashed something for the ride home. Bags of beef jerky, crisps, cookies and sandwiches stuffed with more beef than the average cow.
Cam was especially pleased. He actually liked the nasty, vaguely fishy filling in the suspicious sandwiches and went around collecting them from everybody. Then sat down in one of the silly net seats and ate them with every sign of enjoyment.
Even the crew of the Hercules came and shared in the bounty. Except the stern-faced armed guards, that is. They sat in the rear of the cabin, wearing red berets, red belts and standard Army uniforms with red shoulder patches with 'MP' picked out in black thread. The Royal Military Police. Here to arrest us the moment we entered British airspace. Apparently the MPRD's status as a semi civilian police force was being ignored at this point.
I finished my sandwich and stood up, stretching and twisting to relieve the cramping in my back. The eyes of the guards followed me as I crossed the hold of the cargo plane and sat down next to Jack. He stirred slightly and shifted against my shoulder. His arm was now covered in a cast, an Army jacket over his torn t-shirt. With only the slightest hesitation I ducked under his good arm and lay my head against his shoulder. I took a few deep breaths, inhaling his scent, and then fell asleep.
CHAPTER
50
“So what are they doing here?” said John, peering out of the window. “I thought they were being retired.”
The C-130 transport plane had landed at Brize Norton and was taxiing across the base. Our brief journey had taken us past a group of BAe Harriers, a couple of dozen of them, the planes the government had supposedly retired earlier this year. Except they didn't look retired. Each aircraft was armed and techs in overalls were swarming around and over them. Something was definitely up.
“Wait,” said Bolt, “is that the MPRD badge on the side? Look, where the squadron bar usually goes above the jet nozzle? It is! Why do we need Harriers?”
“I dunno,” I said, leaning back against the seat. “I could think of a couple of uses. It would save us borrowing those expensive Eurofighters from the crabs.”
The Herc swept by the little group of aircraft and rolled to a stop in an open expanse of concrete, its engines slowly winding down. The rear hatch cracked open and the ramps descended. As it did, the Redcaps who had been guarding us stood up and started giving us pointed looks.
“Okay, everybody out!” bellowed the sergeant in charge.
I pulled myself to my feet, ignoring my protesting muscles, and marched smartly down the ramp. Outside were more Redcaps, led by a Lieutenant. The officer was a kid who looked like he was barely old enough to shave. He was looking me in the eye, his chin jutted forward, trying for the steely-eyed look and missing. The burley fucker with the sergeant's stripes stood behind him looked much more threatening.
“Sergeant Jack Henderson, I'm here to take you into custody,” said the officer.
“Yes sir,” I said with more energy than I felt. Custody? Not arrest? That was strange.
The officer and his squad hustled us across the base in their land rovers and into a building. I remembered this one, it was the same building, about a billion years ago, where I'd been sent to plan the attack on Havelock Manor, that had ended in the death of Glavidia.
I was deftly separated from my team and stuffed into an office. Minister Tilehurst was sitting behind the desk and talking on the phone. He motioned me to take a seat and then indicated that the officers should leave us alone.
“I understand and I'll deal with it. He's here now. Okay. Sounds okay to me.”
He hung up and folded his hands in front of him. He spent a few seconds staring at me over his fingers.
“So you came back with your shield,” he said finally. “That's something at least.”
“Yes, Sir,
” I replied.
“But you caused a gigantic shit storm in the process. How do you manage to do that so often?”
“Couldn't say, Sir.”
“Well you are hereby suspended from duty pending an investigation. I just hung up with the Foreign Secretary. Today I've spoken to the Minister of Defence, the Home Secretary, the Prime Minister and the US Ambassador. The US government is taking the position that you were, as a police officer, in hot pursuit of a criminal. They are gently ignoring the question of the authorization for the pursuit. They are being aided and abetted in this by the majority of the US Media who are saying that the video released onto the internet the other day is a fake. More to the point that it is a scene from an upcoming movie which was leaked as a viral marketing campaign. The movie—a supposedly hard-hitting expose of the brutality and viciousness of the Ministry—is, no doubt, being frantically made as we speak.
“They are also apparently being helped out by a certain Sheriff who is insisting to anyone who will listen that you, in your official capacity as a law enforcement agent, contacted him and arranged to liaise with his office on tracking an international kidnapper. Bizarrely, an official from the FBI is backing this claim, saying the three of you were working together. Know anything about that?”
I tried to keep my face impassive as I shook my head. FBI? What was that about? We hadn't had anything to do with the FBI while we were over there. Why were they throwing their hat in the ring?
“Anyway, seeing as the US Ambassador is not pressing charges, the Foreign Secretary is prepared to leave it at that. Apparently it would be potentially embarrassing if certain facts came to light concerning how easily certain highly placed vampires were circumventing the country's immigration procedures at will.”
He paused and looked at me. I was having to work hard to keep my face straight.
Renegade (Ministry of Paranormal Research & Defence) Page 20