He finally reached them and fell to the ground, which rumbled loudly under his weight. He looked at his bandaged colleagues and nodded. Finally, he stared at Vesper.
Vesper raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to announce that...
“Don’t say anything,” the cop beat him to it. “I know.”
He took a deep breath, let it out again, spitting bloody bubbles from his mouth. And then he finished calmly, “This time it was a fucking huge dog.”
Basic conditions faced by the Polish Anti-Terrorist system, come down to the opportunities for effective action by:
permanent monitoring of terrorists and terrorist organizations in order to prevent their terrorist attacks;
possession of forces and the means to respond to the terrorist attack that occurred;
minimizing losses made as a result of a terrorist attack;
efficient elimination of the consequences of a terrorist attack;
the inevitability of criminal responsibility for terrorist activities;
flexibility to the evolutions in the nature of modern terrorism, as well as forms and methods used by it.
Kuba Jałoszynski, “The concept of the modern anti-terrorist action”, dissertation;
Scientific Papers of the National Defense Academy,
Warsaw 2003
Recruitment
Crumbly showed Vesper his bruised arm.
“Do you see it?” he asked with indignation. “Do you see what that damn medic did to me? She pierced me seven times! Finally I suggested that I’d do it myself. We had, after all, first aid courses, and I’d get in like right away. But she said that procedures don’t allow that, and she tinkered until she got it. And what do I look like now?”
With some difficulty he adjusted himself on the hospital bed. He hissed with pain, his broken ribs brought misery with every move.
Vesper nodded with a smile. A fleeting memory of a previous incarnation appeared before his eyes. That’s what the hospital was like, among other things.
“Come on, a tough guy like you, crying like a baby?” he said calmly. “Listen, they have to practice on someone. Would you prefer they poke a little old lady?”
Crumbly huffed angrily. The pathetic picture of the little old lady didn’t make much of an impression on him. But his mangled arm did.
“Me, the hero!” he whined “With such a thick needle, seven times in a row.”
“Oh, don’t make a scene.” Vesper got up from a wooden stool, walked to the window and looked out. “You will survive,” he added, without turning around.
He stared at the city. Warsaw slept, a hard, tired sleep. Woloska Street was pretty empty, even taxis hid somewhere tonight. The sky was covered in black clouds, and not even a piece of the moon was visible behind them. The rain came down in even, gloomy streams on top of all that.
Ideal time for the renegades. Quite perfect, actually.
Vesper reached his right hand under his jacket, and felt the gun hidden in a holster hanging in a harness on the left side.
“No, man,” Crumbly reacted immediately. “I don’t feel that much resentment for her, leave it.” He smiled lightly
The nighter turned to him.
“If you say so...” he said, forcing a joke. “We’ll give her another chance. Maybe next time she’ll get in after only six attempts, who knows?”
“It’s nice that you care about me so much,” the A-T said. “Actually, it’s very nice that you care about us at all. The guys from the Department camp out here day and night in friendship...” He paused and looked keenly at his colleague.
He said the Department, thought Vesper quickly. Old A-Ts called their job that, when they were the Security Department of the Metropolitan Militia, the anti-violence unit. But that was in seventy-six, when Crumbly was barely born. Then, in the 90s, the militia was renamed the Police, and the Security Department became the Anti-Terrorism Department. In 2003 another name change happened, and it became the Antiterrorist Operations Bureau of the Police Headquarters. Finally, in 2004, the name changed yet again to the Board of Anti-Terrorist Operations. Now they are the Antiterrorist Operations Bureau again. They messed it up so much, that no decent A-T knew what the unit would be called in fifteen minutes. But they didn’t necessarily call it the Department.
So Crumbly, perhaps, didn’t mean his own men. He was asking gently if Vesper and his colleagues were from Five, the former Department of Detention NDC, now called the Department of Anti-Terrorism and Security Implementation ISA. The naming could make one go insane. Anyway, his friend got it just a little wrong... it might be best to let him think what he wanted.
“You know, we still hope that we might be able to learn something from you,” he said, without commenting on the mention of the Department. “How to be professionally ill with dignity, etc...”
Crumbly understood at once, that he wouldn’t get anything out of Vesper, and to not even try. He sighed heavily.
“It’s really moving,” he said a little wearily. “Such cooperation between companies.”
Vesper returned to the stool, and sat on it. He looked significantly at Crumbly.
“You know, we spoiled some plans for some bad guys,” he said gravely. “Maybe they’ll want revenge, who knows.”
The policeman apparently didn’t care too much about this news.
“Main problem there, in ISA, is the smartasses,” he said lightly. “Imagine I thought of it on my own. And you know, I didn’t leave the handle in hospital lockbox, although I was very pressed to do so. I have it with me all the time.”
Both were silent for a moment, looking at each other seriously. Each diligently maintained an impenetrable stone face.
At the same time they turned their heads toward the door when it opened with a slight squeak. Vesper slipped his hand under his jacket, throwing a careful look to the woman in a white coat entering the room. She would be quite pretty if not for the huge, thick glasses that made her look like a walking microscope.
“It's her?” He said, winking knowingly at Crumbly and furtively clenching his fingers on the gun.
“Uh, no,” said the other quickly. “This is the intern, or almost a doctor. Totally fine.” He waved his hand carelessly.
“I see that Nurse Martha took care of you, sir,” the woman said, pointing to his bruised hand. “Changed cannula, good, good...” She looked at him sharply in the eye, clearly asking him not to fuss about these few extra needle pokes. He was, after all, a commando.
Crumbly cleared his throat, then looked at his colleague’s startled eyes. The course of a brief internal struggle was clearly depicted on his face; Vesper could almost see his mind. Whatever Crumbly would say now would make him a wimp. To a colleague, sinning with inconsistency, or to the girls, whining about such a little thing.
“Yeah, I feel better already,” the policeman finally decided. “The new cannula fits me like a glove, thanks.”
Vesper smiled inwardly. It meant Crumbly was quite sensitive to the opinion of the opposite sex... important to remember.
The intern flashed him a thankful look, nodded her head at them both, and left the room.
Vesper stood up and walked to the window.
Again, he stared into the night, still spilling rain over Warsaw. The black cloud layer cut the city off from the light of the moon and stars, plunging them into a gloomy twilight, dark enough even for his sensitive vampire eyes.
The nighter watched the street carefully, intuition still flashing a red alert in his head. The renegades were hiding out there somewhere, and plotting their revenge.
On Crumbly, on Nidor, finally on himself, for the fact that they shredded General Nex when he was almost sure of victory. And on the other A-Ts, laying in the surgery department. That they dared to survive, even though he’d had them kneeling humbly in anticipation of a verdict.
The pride of Lord Aranea probably wasn’t going to let this balance on such a shameful minus. Definitely not.
***
&nb
sp; On their way back to the base, the sun was already quite high above the horizon. Rainclouds escaped with the night, and the sky glowed a dazzling blue. Vesper, along with his shift colleagues, smeared every inch of their visible skin, including their faces and hands, with Total Sun Block, cursing and adjusting their sunglasses.
It had been a very difficult night, as everyone clearly sensed the danger lurking behind the windows. They all jumped up every minute or so, ready to repel an attack... that didn’t come. So they waited, startling to alertness, unnecessarily again. And so on, and on again. They were terribly tired, and dreamt only of their beds and fresh blood.
They reached the base, left the cars in the garage, and sped through the woods toward the residential buildings.
On foot, Umens snapped telepathically. I have a young in the courtyard!
They lowered themselves to the ground, bitter. On foot, damn it. All night they had to be careful to hide from the people... and even here at home, they didn’t have a bit of respite.
They entered the courtyard, watching the recruit stealthily.
Who, in their kindness has been sent to join their team?
A tall blond man stood before Umens, sweaty and with a flushed face. He was arguing over something with the captain. It looked like he had deep, expert knowledge on how pushups should be performed, and couldn’t agree with the supervisor’s recommended uncrafty method. The attitude of the opponent showed that he was dangerously close to reaching the limits of his patience.
“If the youngster talks to the lord like that, he will be done for,” Fulgur sighed. “Zero discipline in this man. It would be a pity because we need new nighters. Anyway, we shall see. Maybe the kid can be trained before it’s too late... for him, of course.”
“Have you ever wondered what actually directs Ultor’s decisions?” Vesper asked thoughtfully. “He kills all... but gives his blood to only a few.”
“He said once that it is about the symbiont,” Alacer said. “You have to have the feel for it. Sometimes it doesn’t click, no matter what.”
They reached the house, and welcomed the twilight of the darkened foyer gladly.
Nidor already waited for them, pointing at his watch reproachfully. “You’re in late, guys!” he said, and shook his head disapprovingly.
“Shut up, mommy,” Alacer snapped at him. “We waited until the people got their act together. The Anti-Terrorist were our shift change. I’ll tell you all about it. But let’s eat something first, okay?” He walked in, heading straight to the TV room.
Nidor scratched automatically over the bandages wrapping his face rather tightly. He grimaced, then followed Alacer. The other nighters followed them into the room.
They crowded around the bar, crossing to look at a plastic container with blood bearing large red stamps. Tested. Unpolluted. They began to pour the vital fluid into the glasses, sighing with relief. Finally, they could eat properly. Secretive sipping from a flask in the hospital is definitely not what tigers like best.
Alacer drank a gulp from the contents of his glass, and put it down on the counter with a loud clink.
“We should not leave them alone during the day,” he said loudly. “People couldn’t cope if the renegades got it into their heads to attack right now.
He commanded the team during Nidor’s convalescence period, and it was obvious he felt nearly like a captain. Which was very likely, because Ultor didn’t hide that he planned to give the Polish nighters another position like that, and Alacer was definitely the best candidate.
“We can’t watch them day and night,” Nidor said quietly. “Where will you get so many officers? Take care of blood storage, that’s one; Clam has his hands full. Base; the base is the foundation, so that’s two. And the hospital at night... and there are only fifty of us.”
“Forty-seven,” interrupted Fulgur grimly.
They fell silent, all sharing the same thought.
Daps, Ebur, Falx... Three coffins in Emów’s underground, and one’s you didn’t get out of. It was fortunate that Nidor and Vesper still slept in their beds, at least normally, because there could have been five of those coffins.
“Renegades will not attack during the day,” Nidor broke the silence, and then scratched his bandage-covered cheek with a sudden move. “I can’t stand this, how hopelessly slow it’s healing...” He sighed, shook his head, and then continued. “They suffer in the light as much as we do. This is not a good time to carry out a mission.”
“You know perfectly well that if they wanted to, they would be capable of that effort,” Alacer interrupted sharply. “But you prefer to delude yourself with the unfounded hope, than...”
“Than weaken outposts elsewhere,” Nidor finished calmly.
“Because there are only humans there, and we are here, right?” Alacer didn’t let up. “But we should protect them, that’s why we’re here!”
“Give me a break, man,” the captain finally gave up. “In the end, is it my decision? Call the major’s hotline, tell him to change orders. He’s been sitting at Lord Ultor’s place for three days now, maybe they’ve come up with something.”
“You know, I will!” the nighter jumped up from his spot and left the room.
There was a heavy, oppressive silence.
“Turn on the box,” Vesper said, trying to save the situation. “Let’s see, maybe they’ll show something new.”
Fulgur picked up the remote, and clicked it. The TV brightened, flooding the hall with a bright glow.
“For God's sake, who was watching that?” Nidor winced, squinting instinctively. “That bright?”
“The new kid,” Umens threw from the threshold. “He’s been studying extra at night.”
They nodded with understanding. Sure, the new kid has normal human eyes. To see anything, they must be bombarded with light.
Fulgur pressed the remote control buttons. The screen went dark, then adjusted back to normal levels.
But they saw nothing new. The television stations were still obsessed with the same topic. For nearly the whole week, Polfa Tarchomin was shown on every channel. Images of the buildings swathed with flames against the night sky interspersed with mournful, burned ruins, where countless firefighters, army and police vehicles were stationed. Then the talking heads, who discussed the incident with unflagging excitement. Poland had finally had its first real terrorist attack, and sometimes it was hard to tell if commentators were more proud or worried about it.
“Turn it off!” Nidor sighed in disgust. “My brain hurts from listening to this garbage. Besides, they won’t tell us anything about the renegades.”
“Because we should have our man there!” Fulgur said lively, turning the TV off. “Because we still don’t know anything about them. We can only wait for their move, and it’s...”
“Aranea would expose the agent immediately,” Umens interrupted dryly, sitting down in the chair. “She has the honest speech gift, you know that. If we send her someone, it would be to a certain death. Haven’t you have enough funerals in the Family?”
The door opened with a sudden wave, pushed open very firmly. Alacer entered the room with a very satisfied expression on his face.
“Lord Ultor and the major admitted that protecting people is the primary task of our unit,” he said triumphantly. “We are to delegate five nighters to the hospital. And since Captain Umens is on the day shift, he can check in on them every few hours.”
Umens and Nidor looked at each other. Certainly exchanging notes, which no one could doubt were not flattering toward their overzealous colleague.
“Well, an order’s an order,” Umens muttered while getting up. “Go get some sleep, gents. We’ll have to rotate more often now, so get some rest quickly.”
“Right,” Nidor agreed, getting up from the chair as well. “Go ahead, now.”
Everyone stood up, with particularly displeased expressions. More frequent rotations, more work. Damn that Alacer... but if they had to, then fine.
The door
opened, pushed with an impatient hand. Staszek, a man from the recruitment room, ran into the room.
“Captain,” the man said to Umens, with a voice full of tension. “Help! That new guy... the things he does! Who sent him here? It’s some kind of sabotage or a diversion!”
“The kid has a temper,” Umens said with disdain, then turned to look at his colleague.
“Go ahead,” Nidor sighed. I’ll wake them up. Who do you want?
They spoke in their minds for a little longer, and Umens left the room with a brisk step. Nidor started toward the other door leading toward the sleeping quarters.
“Am I still seeing you here?” Nidor asked, seeing the other nighters still gathered in the hall. “Or am I just imagining it?”
“Hallucination,” they chorused together, and started toward the door. “The captain is leaving, and so is the hallucination. Good night, Captain!”
“Good night, hallucination!” Nidor replied, letting them go ahead of him
He glanced at Staszek, who had plopped on the couch and turned the TV on.
“Sorry, boss, I’ll get back there in a little bit,” the man explained. “In just a little bit, just let me just gather my strength. That new one is a pain in the ass, I swear. It’s judgement day, and it’s only morning...” he sighed heavily and shook his head wearily.
The captain nodded and closed the door. Judgement day for real. Hopefully he didn’t say it at the wrong time.
***
Vesper woke up suddenly. Something bad had happened.
He didn’t know what, but his intuition screamed in alarm.
Something bad, something very bad was going on. Something was not right.
He got out of bed, and picked up a gun from his nightstand. He stood still for a moment, listening carefully. Everything seemed quiet, peaceful. But something wasn’t right.
He left the room quietly, sneaking step after step in the semi-dark corridor. The darkened base slept like it did every day, with a peaceful, tired sleep. But something told him to be careful. That today, it wasn’t safe here.
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