Operation (12 page)

At some point he felt that the frenzied activity of the roses had caused a loosening of the hold on his wrist by the rose stems. The roses continued their assault upon each other, their petals dropping off and falling to the ground. After a few moments, the action slowed as fewer and fewer of the roses still possessed any of their petals. It appeared as if they were dying; each petal as it fell taking with it a piece of life.

As the last petal dropped on the ground the crypt door opened with a loud creak. He had to step out of the way as its massive bulk filled the space he had just occupied seconds before. A tremendous burst of air forced its way out into the passageway almost knocking him over both from the force as well as the smell of rotten food and damp earth it carried. He fought his immediate reaction of gagging and vomiting from the foul stench that threatened to inundate him. His recovery was aided by the sudden change in the smell of the air.

The first wave of stinking rot had suddenly changed into the delightful scent of the red roses…hundreds of them. The perfumed scent was near intoxicating and in such sudden contrast to the other smell, he felt himself become lightheaded by the sensory effect. He felt his equilibrium slip and struggled to maintain his balance. Just as he thought he could no longer stand, he felt a firm grip on his arm that supported his weak knees. He blinked his eyes as he turned in the direction of the hand that held him and saw that there was nothing there. He was alone in the cavernous corridor…or so he thought until he heard the voice.

“Come in,” a voice called to him. “Come in. Enter of thine own free will.”

It was a woman’s voice; warm and alluring but it did not resonate in the corridor where he stood. It originated from inside the crypt.

“Come in, John,” the voice called again.

He took a few steps in the corridor moving into position so that he could see within the crypt and when he could observe the interior, he was amazed by what he saw.

Part of him, the part that had been here before, remembered that it was a cavern carved into the rock. He knew that within were the four crypts of the vampires that had come to comprise the Team of Darkness—but that was not what he saw now. This time he saw a chamber filled with the finest curtain and draperies of silk, thick carpets and rich tapestries of Persian designs adorned the room. Golden candelabra with long and pure white candles provided a warm glow which accented the huge canopy bed that sat in the middle of the chamber. The bed was veiled with sheets of gossamer hung from its sides. Through the veiled sheets, he could see the shape of a woman sitting on the bed.

“Hello, John,” the figure said. Her voice was thick and full as the syllables seem to languish in the air, teasing him with an alluring attraction of some kind.

Reese stared intently at the figure but he was unable to distinguish any features of the woman through the gossamer that hung around the bed.

“What is this place and who are you?” he asked.

“This is your mind, John,” she simply said as if he should know it. “It is your greatest fear and yet contains your greatest hopes.”

“I don’t understand,” he said. “This is nothing more than a dream.”

“Is it?” she asked. “Are you sure?”

He didn’t answer her because honestly, he wasn’t sure anymore.

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OUR

As the van carrying Dimitri and the other vampires from the farm in Suffolk drove up the ramp onto Interstate 64 toward the Hampton Roads Bridge tunnel and Norfolk, Dimitri suddenly lunged forward in his seat and grasped the dashboard. The sound of the dashboard sections caving in under his hands echoed in the cab of the van. As he released his grip, his hand impressions could clearly be seen embedded in the vinyl.

“Dimitri? Are you alright?” Andre asked.

Dimitri struggled to regain his composure and free his mind as the image of Commander John Reese in some kind of danger shoved its way violently into his.

As a vampire, he had learned that his thoughts were well-guarded from intrusion. It was something unique to their kind, probably because of the psychological bond between other vampires. Because of this intimate relationship process, thoughts were in a way more composed, and never random. It was as if they had developed a self-blocking mechanism to prevent the random thoughts from cluttering their thinking; another strong self preservation technique of their kind. This sensitivity to unwanted intrusions is what made it such a shock. Why or how the image of Commander Reese had come to him he did not know. It caught him completely off guard with the intensity with which it had struck him. He would have defined it as a mental rape.

“I’m alright,” he answered Andre.

“But—” Andre began, his hand pointing to the dashboard where Dimitri’s handprint was firmly embedded.

“I said I’m fine,” he said firmly, but not with any anger. Dimitri knew that there was more concern in Andre’s voice than anything else.

Andre’s eyes went from Dimitri to the road, and back again to Dimitri, but he said nothing.

Dimitri stared ahead as they approached the tunnel entrance that would take them under the water and over to the Norfolk side.

What had that been about? Why had that image of Reese jumped into his thoughts? And why had the intensity of the feeling of Reese struggling against something been so strong? They had no bond of blood. Dimitri had never taken from Reese.

Since their last meeting several months ago, Dimitri had had no contact with Reese. This was mutually agreed upon for two reasons: first to ensure that the presumed death of the vampires would not be questioned and second, to ensure Reese would not be punished for his actions. Symmetry at its best—both sides were protected and obtained a resolution to their problems.

However, this incident of the girls and the possibility of Reese’s involvement raised more doubt about his stated position of non-interference toward the vampires and their use by the military. Why would Reese cut loose the three of them only to turn around and proceed with another pair of vampires on the same mission? It made no sense. Further, during their time together with the team, Reese and he had held many discussions about life and the role that the vampire played in it. What was happening now did not agree with what he had heard Reese say then. Had he a change of heart? Or had the military gotten to him somehow? Was he being coerced to cooperate or was the Commander a willing participant in order to further his desire to examine a specimen of the myth he held onto tightly? Dimitri sighed heavily. He had no answers to these questions which only led to deeper frustration.

He squinted his eyes against the bright white lights which indicated they were about to emerge on the other side of the tunnel. Dimitri squinted under the brightness and again exhaled strongly as if he could get rid of his frustration by doing so. His actions drew another concerned look by Andre.

Looking out into the upcoming darkness of night outside of the brightly lit tunnel, Dimitri spoke. “It is fine, my friend,” he said sensing Andre’s concern. “I just need to think it out for a bit. We’ll talk about it later.”

Andre did not answer. He didn’t have to because they had been linked together for so many years which had led to an understanding that required no further communication. Instead, they sat in silence as they exited the tunnel and were enveloped by the darkness of the night. The darkness brought a sense of comfort to Dimitri and he silently dropped deeper into his thoughts as the van drove on.

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IVE

Samantha was thinking that this could be a problem. But after a few minutes decided that if she wrapped up the main problem, this one would take care of itself too. And if all else fails, there was always the last measure which could be carried out by a quick phone call to her associate, Mr. Smith.

She had known all along that her intermittent lover was the son of one of the first handlers assigned to Iron Stake. It was clearly annotated in the record. This doubled the pleasure of the purpose of their relationship; research as much as it was for her pleasure. Either way the ends justified the means in her book and that was all that mattered. However, what puzzled her was how he had obtained the information.

Obviously all materials related to Iron Stake had been restricted at the highest levels. There was nothing as ridiculous as agency family privilege; if anything there was less information in those cases. The bottom line was that the agency did not exist, never mind having any employees, family or not. The only reason why she knew of the personal relationship was due to her position as handler.

The answer to where the information had come from was obvious: There had to be a leak. She picked up the phone and started to dial his number to call him back—but she stopped slowly replacing the telephone back into the cradle. She could press him for more information, but it could wait. The leak would be found soon enough once the other issue was laid to rest. But it still bothered her.

Realistically, what harm could come from him knowing that his father had been involved in the mission? None at all. She had learned from him that any emotional attachment to the missing father had been lost a long time ago. Now it was more a matter of curiosity. She had never told him the truth and it would do no good to tell him anything anyway because if he did know what had happened, there was a potential for issues she did not want to have to deal with if she didn’t have to.

She recalled the files in her photographic memory and the entries that had been made about the disposition of the handler. One comment stuck out in her mind specifically. It was about nine months after the creature had been brought back to the United States. The order simply read:

Handler lost positive control of Iron Stake. Decisions and judgment impaired by emotional attachment to creature. Handler terminated by Iron Stake at the direction of agency.

So they had instructed Christina to kill him. However Samantha surmised that there was more to it than that. She had learned to understand the creature and could easily read between the lines of the short message. He had fallen in love with Christina. He’d formed an emotional attachment that had probably initiated for the sake of the creature’s own amusement. She could be devious that way and she had a history of it as well. This was another reason why physical meetings were highly discouraged unless adequate two-person rules were established.

Rules. There were always rules. She tried to keep them at a minimum especially where her own actions were concerned. For when rules are added all they do is complicate any situation. This was why the Agency itself existed to begin with; to skirt the rules.

Still, there was one rule that she knew she would have to follow if it came to it. If it came to removing him, she would feel no great loss. She would miss the sex, but the sacrifice for the greater need was always justifiable and always brought her greater satisfaction. Sex was simply a release and an overrated one at that.

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IX

“Come in and sit down,” she said sliding across the bed and making preparations to rise from her slumber.

Reese was surprised that he found the snake-like fluidity of her movement both nerve wracking and exotic at the same time.

“The chair, over there,” she said pointing toward a pair of plush arm chairs on the other side of the room. The dim light made their fabric appear dark and Reese associated the color to blood and death.

Still he felt compelled so he moved toward the chairs never taking his eyes from the woman. He still couldn’t make out any of her features and that bothered him. It was as if her voice was enough to control his actions and he felt helplessness pervade his thoughts.

The woman stood erect now. She raised her arms and parted the gossamer veils shrouding the bed. Stepping through the opening she made, she moved into clear view.

Reese’s eyes fell upon her and he immediately looked for some form of recognition. She was tall and thin with long black hair that fell down her back. She wore a long white sleeveless nightgown which draped to the floor hiding her feet. As she moved closer, she seemed to not be stepping, but rather to be gliding effortlessly across the distance separating them.

As she neared the chair and the additional light, her features became visible but revealed more controversy rather than clarity. Her face was beautiful, rather half of it was. It looked as if someone had drawn a line down the center of her face. One side was tanned and smooth as a youth’s, whereas the other was coarse, wrinkled and pale giving an indication of old age or perhaps an illness that attacked her flesh.

Her eyes also reflected the same controversy; one wide open and a deep blue which radiated a sense of well being, while the other was half shut and liquefied pus oozed from the half open socket. Her lips were parted in a half smile with perfectly shaped teeth which shimmered even in the dim light. While the other half was dark with rotting and decayed teeth.

Her sleeveless arms were of the same appearance; one smooth, tan and perfectly shaped while the other was pale, wrinkled and crooked severely at the elbow.

“What are you?” he asked.

She glided across the last remaining steps that separated them and sat in the chair across from him.

“I am a controversy, John—your controversy,” she simply said. Her voice seemed to also resonate with the same controversy of her appearance; it varied from the smooth melody of a singer to the abrasive coarseness of a heavy cigarette smoker.

“I still don’t understand what the hell you are talking about?” He said trying to sound convincing, but there was a waver in his own voice that indicated that perhaps he did know what she meant.

“I think you do John. Look at me closely,” she said leaning forward in her chair and closer to him.