Operation (9 page)

The agency kept an eye on her movements, where she went and what she did. She was sure the creature was aware of this but apparently never felt the need to discuss it. When Samantha occasionally looked at the reports of where she had gone or what she had done, the creature focused on two types of action: either scouring for information about the world and its people, or entering into long periods of extended sleep for months at a time. At best it appeared to Samantha as if the creature was searching for something and the long periods of inactivity meant she was biding her time until she found what she sought.

When the creature was put into use on an agency mission, she did as she was told without any questions and with the strictest compliance. The creature was the perfect assassin—ensuring a guaranteed kill. That was her prime function. Her talents were not wasted on anything trivial such as surveillance or similar type low risk missions.

Samantha made it a point to follow orders and agency doctrine. Never had she questioned orders or directives. However, she had always thought the creature underutilized. They should have used her more often instead of for just high risk missions. Her talents went to waste during the long periods of hibernation whereas her abilities were worth at least the manpower of five agents, maybe more. But that was a decision made above her pay grade even if she thought it was wrong, she followed it and kept her ideas about how the creature could be better utilized to herself.

“Shit…” she cursed to herself. “That’s back door logic if I ever heard any.”

Samantha rose from her desk and began to pace her office. She knew what her thoughts were doing and she didn’t feel comfortable with it. She was trying to rationalize using the creature on her current assignment in direct contradiction to agency policy. She tried to place the pros and cons in some kind of order so that she could evaluate them.

There were risks—the op would expose the creature to unnecessary danger. Then there was the unknown of what it would do or how it would react to the discovery of more of her own kind. Would it change her disposition toward what she did for the agency—or would her behavior remain the same?

On the other hand, not using her abilities on the mission also meant that the potential existed for the two additional creatures to fall into the wrong hands. If that happened the United States would lose its advantage and possibly be exposed for having used the creature for over sixty years and that would not be good.

The controversy over the pros and cons of an op ran through her mind. What risks would endanger the creature? She was virtually indestructible. As far as the possibility of her attitude changing toward the agency after the discovery, she couldn’t go against the agency because of the explosive device. Even in a worse case scenario if she found the other two and decided she would no longer help the agency, she could be destroyed and the agency would still have the other two to utilize as they saw fit. There was also the possibility of having all three of them under her control. If that was the case they could more then double their efforts and perform at least twice as many missions. The pros were beginning to look better and better to her. Now the question was would she risk such a bold action?

As she thought about it she smiled.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

In another room inside the naval facility, Mr. Smith placed the receiver of the phone into the base. A wicked smile appeared on his lips; a smile that conveyed a sense of power from knowing what others were doing. He had just finished listening to a conversation between Reese and some woman.

Smith removed a secure cellular phone from his pocket and pressed a key.

“Yes,” a male voice answered.

“You have a second chance tonight. The woman is meeting him again at his house around midnight. Don’t screw it up.”

“I won’t. This time I will attach a transmitter to her vehicle just in case.”

“Good. Have you installed the phone taps and home surveillance equipment?”

“Yes. It’s done.”

“Well then, you have a good night. Call me if anything interesting develops.”

“I shall.”

“Oh and one more thing,” Smith continued, “Fuck this up and you’ll have a hard time finding employment in the future. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” the voice answered in an unsteady tone.

The tonal qualities Smith heard made him smile. He pressed a button disconnecting the phone call. He slipped the cell phone back into the breast pocket of his suit jacket.

He rose and ran through his own checklist of events. Reese was covered, Barkley was covered, and he had Commander Pattoon in his pocket to call him if anything came up from the surveillance. There was also the information in the folder that he had looked at earlier, but Pattoon had screwed up and included information prior to the breakout. What an idiot. What did murders before the breakout have to do with any of this? Nothing. Once that information was eliminated, there was nothing of any value in the packet. So what was left? Nothing for the moment? Tonight would be a time for him to relax and indulge into some pleasures of his own.

“Ah…pleasures,” he thought. He had brought with him his little bag of fun—his toys were the way he thought of them. Just some things that would help pass the time. He imagined the feel of the leather in his hands, the warmth it would gather from their bodies. The smell of sweat on the leather and the blood that would accompany it. Yes…he would have some pleasures of his own this evening.

He made a few calls and quickly found what he wanted. He preferred a man but given the short notice he would settle for a woman tonight. The woman would meet him at his hotel room later this evening. She would do what he wanted and then he would simply kill her. No fuss no muss.

The body would be disposed of by normal channels. The reason would be the same as always: He needed information from the person and they refused. A struggle ensued leaving him no choice but to kill them. The agency provided a mop up team at his disposal for such circumstances and tonight they would be called to pick up the body. No questions would be asked. The team would walk in, pick up the body and leave. He thought of it as one of the perks of his job.

“God bless the perks, he thought. How dull all of this would be without them. The money’s good, but it’s the perks that give the thrill—the excitement. The excitement, tonight…ah tonight. How I wish I could have gotten a man. It would have been special—I will have to work at it, but I think I can imagine that Commander John Reese is the company I shall keep. How I would like to see his smart ass attitude whither away under my hands as I choke the life from him. Ah well…tomorrow is another day and the call might come from my lovely bitch boss to do away with Commander John Reese. I can be patient for a while longer. Yes…I can…oh yes…just for a little while longer.”

C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

She felt her breath escape her lungs in surprise as she saw the face of the vampire that had made her.

Alexander.

“You…” Christina said through pursed lips as she stared at Alexander. “You! This cannot be!” She took a step backward.

“Yes, it is me,” he said calmly. “Your mind does not deceive you in that regard as it does in others. It is hard to comprehend how I am here but in truth, I have always been here with you,” he said pointing at her, “inside of you—a part of you.”

She felt anger and hatred flow through her as she remembered the night in the woods when he had come for her. “Are you here to see what you have done? To study the handiwork of what you created?”

“I did not create anything,” he asserted calmly and without any emotion in his voice. “You created yourself; do you not remember your own actions?”

“You sought to fool me that night,” she hissed. “But I tricked you,” she said as she began to pace.

“Yes, you did trick me. I sought only to help you, but you have fooled yourself. You have gone through the years with your hatred of mankind, wearing it like a perverted badge of honor.”

“What do you know of me and my hatred?” she scowled.

“What I know of everyone,” he said simply as he displayed his hands with his palms upward. “Hatred consumes everything. You have allowed yourself to condemn all mankind for the act of a few. The man that wronged you, the people of your village that wronged you—you killed them all. You stalked each one, terrifying them before you killed them. You wanted them to know that it was you that was going to kill them. Each one of them died as a result of your revenge, even the innocent ones.”

“There were no innocent ones,” she said angrily, “we are all guilty of something. Even you. You have killed as well!”

“When I have had to. Yes,” Alexander agreed, “in order to survive. But you kill to satisfy your craving for revenge, not survival. You do it at the beck and call for others, for the humans who won’t do their own killing. You do it gladly. Each time you substitute whoever it is you kill for one of those from your village. You kill them over and over again trying to satiate a thirst that can never be quenched.”

“Yes! I kill because I must. They will never be punished enough for what they did to me” she said. “What does it matter if others direct me in that endeavor, the end is still the same?”

“Is your life to be directed by others as well? You pretend to be enslaved by their non-existent control. You know it does not have to be that way.”

“I know nothing,” she said as the truth bit at her harshly.

“No!” he shouted. “You do know,” he said taking a step toward her. “But you choose not to understand.”

“You speak foolishness,” she said turning from him.

“I speak the truth,” he countered, “and you shall hear all of it.”

“No! I don’t want to hear this nonsense.”

“The device inside of you—you know you can remove it,” he said pointing at her chest. “Yet you leave it there to remind you the death you bring has some kind of vindication. You pretend it is not your own choosing but that of others. You lie to yourself!”

“Why? Why would I do such a foolish thing?”

“It’s the easier way,” he said simply. “You don’t want to admit that you have had enough revenge on those that have wronged you. If you admit that, then you have no reason to exist because you made that your only goal in life. Your only goal is to take revenge for what those villagers did to you all those years ago. It is done, Christina; you must get on with your own life. Move on or perish.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said but refused to meet his eyes with her own.

“I do know and you know what I say is true. You actually have feelings inside you but you’ve hid them away—until now. This is what has enabled me to come to you. You know that they are there but they are so different then what you have known, they scare and confuse you. You fear you will not survive a new way of life. You’re afraid of a life of peace.”

The truth stung her like a sharp spear through her heart. She felt anger building up inside of her begging to be released at this man who said these things she did not want to hear.

Alexander continued, “It is the same thing that you believe the device inside of you cannot be removed, you allow yourself to believe that you cannot possess other feelings or to have another purpose.”

“Shut up!” she cried. “I have heard enough.”

“No you haven’t,” he retorted. “You must free yourself from all these things that are self-imposed. You know that your captors forgot the most important thing—just as you have forgotten what life is meant to be. You can have happiness but the first step is the hardest.”

“No more!” she screamed. “I have…” she searched for words to refute what he said but none came. What Alexander had said was true and she knew it. For the first time since she had been found guilty in her little village, she felt scared and indecisive. “I cannot…” she said as she placed her hand on her chest and looked at Alexander.

“I cannot make you do anything you do not wish to do,” Alexander said softly, “you know that.”

“What will I do?” she asked.

“There is much to life, I think you realize that now. But if you wish to live it, you must take the first step.”

He stepped up to her and placed his hand over hers, and then lifted their joined hands to rest on the center of her chest.

“They have keyed the device to the DNA of the handler,” he said softly in a tone of a father speaking to his daughter. “Any other DNA will cause the device to detonate. However, your body gave up its DNA when you became what you are. It should not explode.”

“And if it does?” she asked, “if you are wrong?”

“You must have faith, but either way you shall be free,” he said simply. She felt his grip tighten on her hand. “But you must do it yourself.”

“Free,” she whispered.

“Yes, free,” he agreed.

Christina let go of his hand and tore her shirt open from collar to waist. She caused her fingernails to become longer and sharper. Holding her right hand with her left, she turned the knife-like nails inward, slicing a thin line from the top of her chest downward several inches. She wedged her hand inside of the sliced flesh and felt for the mechanism. As she searched, her flesh where she had slit it open tried to close and she had to keep slicing it back open. Finally her hand found the object. She took a deep breath as she closed her eyes. Then she wrapped her fingers around it—and pulled.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY

Samantha glanced at the pages in front of her but her mind kept going back to the creature. Her plans could work but there were always obstacles. Much of her conundrum arose from the fact that she didn’t like or trust Mr. Smith. He had all the proper experience from his earlier time in the FBI and CIA; however, since his recruitment into the agency his motives seemed to be based purely upon financial gain.

Unlike the other organizations, the agency operated upon an incentive based pay scale. Samantha never approved of the system—she thought of it as something as cheap and tawdry as the system a car salesman worked under. Some agents didn’t care what the mission was designed to achieve, but rather cared only about making the highest commission. There was no patriotic attachment only a financial one: Mr. Smith in a nutshell.