No one actually knows how much power the Vampire councils have (except, of course, the vampires). J. Edgar tried to investigate them, after the Civil Rights act made Vamps legal. He didn't get as far with that as he did with trying to break up the Mafia, and he was never successful with that. I'm thinking it may have something to do with the impossibility of penetrating the council without actually becoming a Vampire.
One of the things I have going for me, when dealing with these guys, is that I do know how to do the old style medieval court rituals (an advantage of being a medieval recreationist), and that's something that most modern Americans don't know or care about. Believe it or not, it helps.
"Don Sorenson." I said with a bow. "I would like to thank you for making some time to talk to me, and on such short notice, as well."
"Detective Fisher, how often must I tell you to call me Viggo?" he replied with a mock scowl.
"Roughly once every time we meet, Viggo." I replied with a smile.
Viggo shook his head with a smile. "You're such a good boy, what a shame that you became a Lycanthrope, I really could use a man like you in our councils."
"I'm honored Viggo, but you know? I just like hunting, and sunsets on the mountains or the open sea too much to want to give them up..."
"Oh, you would have made a great Lycan, if you have the genes that give you the powers you have as a cat, you could have been a day walker as one of us." he sighed. "But alas, it was not meant to be. What a shame that you can't be both.
"Come, let us go to my office and talk."
Well, this was going to be a first, I had never been farther than the conference room behind the doors just to the right of the reception desk. Over to the left side of the desk was an alcove that I had taken for a waiting area when I was here before. It had all of the hallmarks: comfy chairs, low tables with the latest issues of all the news magazines, financial magazines, political rags, and a few surprises, like Proceedings, Pointer View, Harvard Law Review, and several foreign language magazines. Behind a large Ficus was a much more understated door, I hadn't noticed it last time. It was also a much more secure door, by which I mean card key and thumb print, and that solid sounding shluck that a set of large deadbolts sliding across steel make.
On the other side was a hallway with paintings every four feet or so and set just a little lower than I'm used to. Most of them were of the council members or other famous vampires, in a variety of styles, many of them looked like they were done by some of the most famous artists of history. I saw what looked for all the world as Viggo as done by Leonardo da Vinci, another one of him that looked like it was done by Rembrandt. One of Jeremiah (one of the Vampire council) by Remington, and another by Roy Lichtenstein, ones of Katerina (another Council member) by Rubens, and Dali among other artists. There was a lot of her by various artists, some I recognized, some, not. But the thing is, all of these were undiscovered works, or at least I had never heard of them, and I'll bet when I ask Bird and Mary, they will agree that none of these are in any catalog, making this hallway worth more than the GDP of some medium-sized nations. Eventually we got to Viggo's office; it was all the way at the end of the hall. Corner offices aren't a thing for Vampires, but I guess some things are universal. That, or it's just that the end office doesn't have anyone trooping by while you're working, if whatever the head of the Vampire council does is considered work.
The office itself was an interesting statement. Most of it was Danish modern, in beige monochrome, and the carpet was ankle deep. The exceptions were the conversation group in the corner, Danish modern but in dark woods and oxblood leather, with a low black marble table (the type with streaks of gold in it). The desk looked like the Resolute desk but in dark oak and with different carvings (look it up, it'll be good for you). One whole wall was floating shelves from waist high to nearly the ceiling, and lit with museum style directed lighting. On these shelves were a most eclectic collection of memorabilia, as we entered the room I couldn't help but be drawn to it. Viggo saw my glances and said "Please, help yourself, you will not be able to concentrate until you look through them, I can tell."
The shelves were full of everything from small pieces of jewelry that looked Roman, Celtic and Viking, to a few swords, some dress, some straight-up life takers, and one rather plain, very well-worn knife that looked somehow out of place. Also present were an amazing collection of lock-picks from the ages, some official seals of various sorts, a few pistols from various eras, some more modern jewelry (everything from medieval through the Gatsby era), a Army Air corps hat with a fifty mission crush, and a couple medals, including the DFC, a couple old bottles with poorly printed and very faded labels identifying them as gin and rum from a distillery I have never heard of. All in all a very puzzling wall. After looking at the collection for a few minutes, I looked over at Viggo with one eyebrow cocked, and said "Someday I would love to hear the story of some of these items. If it's not considered rude, just how old are you?"
Viggo cocked an eyebrow right back, and smiled. "Oh, the Roman pieces were not originally mine. Nor were the Celtic and Viking. I was born originally in 1325 in Sicily, to a different name. I took the name of my "patron" when I came over. Those were pieces that I stole over the years. You see, I started life as a thief. Not a common thief, of course, I was a very uncommon thief. What is known today as a "second story man" and one of the best. Most of the later things are mine, though a few are things that I just couldn't bear to part with after stealing them. If you'll look at some of the mid- and late medieval pieces I think you may understand why."
"And this?" I asked reaching for the plain-looking knife.
"First knife I ever used to kill a man, I was twelve I think."
While I would have loved to get the story of the rest of the items (I did mention I'm a history buff, didn't I?) the only thing on this wall that could be pertinent to my real mission here was the hat and gear from the Second World War, so I brought that up next. "The cover, and medals...yours?"
"Yes. I was with the 415th flying radar equipped Beaufighters. It was something I felt I had to do. Fascism was just not something I could ignore, and, well, my special qualifications and knowledge of Italy was something that the Army Air corps couldn't ignore. Later we were equipped with Mosquitoes, an amazing plane, but all wood, which led to some interesting times for someone with my 'affliction'." The last was said with a disarming grin, spoiled by a hint of fang.
Well, with that, I felt I had the handle I was looking for, so I came over to the conversation group and sat across from him. The chairs were amazing, I'm not sure what he paid for them, but I was going to need to find out where he bought them. That was for later though. Right now I had wasted enough time.
"So, Viggo, I know that coming to business matters this quickly may be considered..."
Viggo waved a hand. "John, I understand the necessity of business, upon occasion. Please, tell me what is on your mind."
So I explained to him about the group of vets, some from Viggo's war (or at least his last war...), and the rest of the mess, culminating in a very politically powerful Senator with at least one very powerful mage under his control wanting my ass for a lampshade. Then I asked for help.
Not combat help, I was still hoping to get out of this without having to actually go into combat with other badge wearers, but political help. I was willing to bet that anyone with the sort of power and money that Viggo had accrued over the years (OK, centuries) could provide some political assistance. Considering what Senator Brown was trying to do, it was in his organization's interest to give us a hand on this as a matter of self-defense, not counting the whole Vet angle and the exchange of favors angle...
Yes, I realized that I was in effect making a deal with the Mob in a matter of speaking, (little did I know at the time just how accurate that description was) but hey, it wouldn't be the first time a government office had made a deal with some less than savory individuals, I mean look at how often we make contracts with unions. (Co
mpletely ignoring the deals made in WWII, and the deals made by the CIA during Kennedy's term, deals between the FBI and...well, you get the picture...)
Viggo was more than a little interested in the Vets that were out there, he asked a lot of questions as to who, how many, what units, etc. Which drove me to ask him: why did he serve? I mean here's a guy who's been alive way more than three times as long as the country that he's living in and can reasonably expect to outlive any nation now existent, assuming he doesn't die by misadventure...why would he go out of his way to risk death for a country that he wasn't born to, and probably doesn't owe much to? In WWII they still had a bounty on vampires here in the US, so why?
The answer he gave me humbled me. "I lived through, and saw some of the worst and best of human behavior. I was born in Sicily, when we were under the leadership of a king from what is now Spain. We were poor in a time when poor meant something very different from what it means today. It meant watching your sister starve to death at three months, because your mother's dugs dried up and you can't afford a wet nurse. It meant stealing to be able to feed your family when your dad goes out fishing and never comes home. I became a very good thief, because I liked to eat. In fact, that's the biggest thing I miss about being a normal human...the sun is overrated, ah but a good hard sharp cheese and some sweet tart apples, with a good sausage? Now that was something to miss.
"I became good enough that I came to the notice of the head of a very influential and very unofficial organization. They took us in, and they taught me things my father did not have time to before dying. Things like honoring your commitments and debts, taking care of the poor, the widows and orphans, things like Omerta. Oh, they taught me other things too, like how to dance with the suit of the seven bells, although we called it something else then, and how to defeat locks, dogs, guards, and high walls, but most of those things were not important or lasting. Lock technology is ever changing, for instance, but how you live your life, that should never change.
"Yes, we were, in the eyes of the Spanish who ruled over us, criminals. But the people that we robbed from were not our people, and they were the people who were getting fat, while we starved in the midst of plenty. Eventually I became a power in this group of loosely associated families. I kept my hand in though, and that is what caused me to still be alive today. For, once I robbed a churchman, one of the princes of the church, who was traveling abroad from Roma, and happened to bring himself and his goods within our reach. I had completed my work and was leaving, when he dropped down from a pillar, and caught me. It seems I had become famous, outside of this thing of ours, though no one knew what I looked like, or my name. This churchman had come to find out if I was as good as the stories said, and to turn me if I was. He was my father in this new life I have, and it was with him that I toured Europe, from the perspective of a noble. Sadly it was also from him and his legacy that I experienced the worst of what man has to offer. It was through the church that I experienced Bernard Gui, one of the most evil men I ever met, Savonarola, who at least started out meaning well, and Tomas Torquemada, who was a devil in human form. What they did and allowed to be done to their fellow man, in the name of God, was a travesty, and I doubt not, that Jesus wept, and Satan danced with glee. Then there was the destruction of beautiful works by these men and others, and on their orders, as well as the final destruction of the last remaining great worms, using the excuse that they were the devil's tools.
"Sure I am, that dragons had done damage to the works of men, but we had chased them off of any land that was useful to man, and to go out of our way to make them extinct, these greatest of all flying animals, well, that was in a way the worst of it.
"I was little interested when the Americas were found, or when they were colonized, thinking that the great events of Europe were the things that would matter to the world. But as time went on, and I saw the idiocy that was overrunning Europe, I realized that the future was here, in America. So I moved in 1880 to the United States. The Civil War was over, slavery had been destroyed, and I had great faith in the future. The battles with the Indian did not seem much different to me, than the battles between the Mongol and the European, and they were doing just fine without me. The Spanish American war had no use for such as I, nor did World War One. But World War Two, that was a different story. First there were the values that had been inculcated to me at that early age: Take care of what is yours, protect the young and the aged, and pay your debts. Then there was the specter of the inquisition, only the Nazis were doing wholesale, what Tomas and his men had only done retail. No, I could not sit back and watch the march of civilization that had moved so far forward, go crashing back to the fourteen hundreds. I owed this to my country that had taken me in, and to Humanity that had birthed me, though I be changed now. And so I offered my services to a nation that was happy to have me. It was amusing that very few of my kind, even among those willing, were allowed to work for the Fascists. Neither Hitler nor Mussolini trusted us, and seemed to fear that we might try to take over. Stalin felt the same, but then he was the fool so paranoid of his position that he killed practically every decent military leader his country had, during the twenties and thirties. This, plus his fear of the preternatural citizens of his country, were to cost him thousands if not millions of lives that need not have been lost, had he left alive those who would be needed in the coming war. The west however took a different view, and I was allowed to fly night fighters over Italy, where I was very successful indeed in making the Nazis miserable."
Well, we made our plans for political coverage, and otherwise, and early the next morning I got someone to run me over to the Sequim Ranger station.
Chapter Twenty
Pete met me at the door of the ranger station, with a writ in his hand. We had been ordered, by name, by one of the Federal judges 'of and for the district of Western Washington' to stay out of the Olympic National Park. I was so stunned I just looked at him with my mouth hanging open. "Can he DO THIS? REALLY?"
"Probably not, but by the time this winds its way through the system, it'll be a month or two..." Pete said with a sigh. He pointed out at the parking lot, where a couple fedmobiles that were definitely not Forest Service sat. "They're really hoping we ignore this order."
Well shit. About that time, my phone started vibrating in its pouch. I pulled it out to see a text from a number I didn't recognize. 206 area code, so Seattle...the text read "We know. We are arranging things now. Abide with patience. V"
OK, I looked at Pete and gave him the combat sign for "Are we under surveillance?" It was a little harder out of cat form to use combat language as we had it in the teams, but they had developed work-arounds. If any of the clowns from the FPI could read them, well we haven't lost much.
Pete returned "Yes, follow me." and led me into the office. From there we went into the head (oh sorry, bathroom for you land lubber types).
"OK, what's the plan?" Pete asked once the door closed and he had turned the water on. "I know you have one, you've got 'that' look in your eye."
"Well, we're about to have a very public fight over whether or not to take the stuff out to the boys. I'm going to lose the argument because you won't tell me where the stuff is, and you're going to take it back to the office. I'm going to leave in a huff (it'll look a lot like a Park Police uniform, but actually it'll be a huff) and go back to the Tanngnost to piss and moan about the unfairness of it all.
"You're probably going to get met by one of Viggo's people, at some point, and they'll take charge of the stuff. They'll get it to a drop point somewhere for me, I've still got to work that out. Then you ready the cavalry to come over the hill, when I'm bringing the boys out." Well, the explanation went on for a little while, Pete didn't like being put in a mostly non-combat role for this, even though he was still healing up somewhat. I sold him on it by telling him that he'll be the lead on the crew that does the pickup, quite possibly in a hot LZ. I hoped that wouldn't be the case, but I wasn't going to place money
on it.
We came out the door screaming at each other in a full-out fight, shouting things like gods-damned coward, and stupid fucking hothead at each other. I'm sure the office thought we were about to actually go to guns, or maybe just shift and tear each other to pieces with tooth and claw.
I left for the Tanngnost and my patrol rig, both of which were at the marina, a good long walk away. I immediately picked up a tail, and made sure that I was walking slowly enough that they would have to follow on foot. These twits (spelled with an a) had pissed me off royally, and I wanted to return the favor. By the time I had gotten to the marina, taking a rather roundabout route, the clowns that were following me were limping...aw, diddums.
The spells on Tanngnost let me know immediately that she had been boarded while I was gone, and what/where things had been moved and or left, all of this courtesy of that inventory program Lars and his wife had invented. I just had to type my password into the laptop that was also my navigation charts and took input from the radar, fathometer etc. It would have been nice, I suppose, if I had some manner of dummying the bugs that the guys who had been on board left behind. Mary could have done it without thinking, I'm sure, but I doubt I would ever have her skill or control. So the question became, could I do this without speaking, or could I disable the bugs without having uninvited guests? Or would disabling the bugs cause the FPI or whoever planted them to show up in force and screw up my plans before I even got them started?
The first thing I needed to do was send a text to 'V'. I'm thinking that was Viggo, but I couldn't be sure. I also couldn't be sure that texts were secure, but I was sure that a voice call wouldn't be. Even if they couldn't bug my phone, the boat was surely bugged. Then it dawned on me (hey, I've adapted well to our improvements in tech, but remember, I grew up with rotary phones, and party lines were still common. So give me a break here), I could probably send a text via this computer, and I know it's still secure.
Keeping The Faith (John Fisher Chronicles Book 2) Page 24