Jones opened his Shadowstone smartphone, bringing up a Panopticon satellite feed covering the area of the explosion. He held the phone out so that Haras and Chloe could see what was on the screen. The Shadowstone van had been dismembered by the explosions, people were cowering in the street, frozen with fear, or running away. A pair of men were carefully approaching the remains of the van. Even with a satellite view, they could see the men point toward the center of the remains of the cabin and shake their heads.

  The thud and crump of the explosions finally reached them. The signature squeal of tearing metal discernable to Chloe’s ears.

  Haras opened his own smartphone, immediately running a program. In seconds, it gave a quick succession of beeps. He grinned hungrily and declared, “We have targets, three of them.”

  “Same here,” Jones reported, showing them his screen with three green dots streaming away from the explosion.

  “I will take the one heading northeast,” Chloe declared decisively.

  “I will take the one heading south,” Jones affirmed.

  “I will take the last one,” Haras stated.

  “Keep your earpieces active. Stay in touch, and try and capture them alive,” Chloe instructed. “We need information, not kills.”

  “Good hunting,” Haras offered to the other vampires before leaping over the edge of the rampart. Landing at the base of the tower, he ran toward the west, disappearing into the night.

  Jones followed him down, also vanishing into the darkness.

  Chloe paused, long enough to smile with satisfaction. One pawn sacrificed and one knight distracted. She leaped over the edge, running off to the northeast, her phone providing her the same Panopticon tracking information that was leading the others. In less than ten minutes, she’d covered the distance and converge on her target’s location.

  He disappeared down a sewer. From the tell-tale heat plume, he was clearly ramped, almost certainly a Red Empire assassin.

  “Entering the sewers, I will lose comms in moments,” Chloe broadcast to the others.

  “Noted,” Haras replied.

  “Yes, Ma’am - I’ve found mine,” Jones responded.

  Chloe dropped through the sewer entrance into the maze of pipes underneath the city. The rip and crack of gunfire, rapidly followed by sword on sword combat erupted over her comms link. She ran into the darkness; her vampire senses leaving no doubt she was following her prey. His warm footprints left a visible trail on the cold concrete. She was on a service walkway, above the wet and noxious contents of the sewer. She didn’t need the Panopticon system now, she was close enough to her target to follow his footprints, distinctive human body odor and the almost imperceptible noise of his movements. Her comms link gave a little hum in her ear as it lost contact with the satellites. She shut it down and slowed to a walk.

  Human hearts were beating within the sewer. There were five of them and they were close. Chloe rounded a bend and was confronted by five Red Empire assassins. One was the sweat-drenched runner she’d pursued. They were all armed with long slim-bladed swords and Uzi 9mm submachine guns. They carried their blades drawn and their Uzis were pointed directly at her.

  The lead assassin lowered his weapons and asked, “General Armitage?”

  “Yes,” Chloe replied.

  “We are to take you to meet Shabbah al Ahmar.”

  “As was agreed.”

  “You will need to disarm, and to wear a hood as the location is secret.”

  “As was expected,” Chloe affirmed. She took off her sword belt and handed it to the leader of the squad.

  One of the other assassins approached with a thick black hood and she allowed him to place it over her head. She mused to herself, A moment of truth; I will get to find out if Shabbah al Ahmar will keep his word. She declared loudly through the heavy weave of the hood, “Lead on, I will follow you by sound.”

  The squad of assassins moved away, and Chloe followed as they proceeded to traverse the sewers of Jerusalem to the secret citadel of the Red Empire.

  * * *

  Chloe’s hood was carefully removed by hands with the barest hint of a tremble. Someone was trying to hide their terror and just failing to do so.

  The hood slipped away. Her hearing had alerted her as to what to expect and there were no surprises. She was in the middle of a large hall without windows. There was a high vaulted ceiling. The walls were of smooth gray stone and the lighting was supplied by modern electric fixtures. There was an oppressive sense of mass above her. She was underground.

  Surrounding her were twenty-five armed warriors. The hand-picked elite of the Red Empire led by the man standing two yards in front of her, Shabbah al Ahmar.

  She smiled at the Red Ghost. She’d met him twice before. The first time on a battlefield, but without closing. The second time by mutual choice in a place of secrecy. He had given her his personal name, Dalien Morte.

  His hatred for Cornelius Crane eclipsed all other forces in his life. Chloe did not know the origin of Morte’s hatred, it was enough to understand its power. He’d been willing to bargain and had delivered a shared agent in the Order of Thoth operating in her heartland, al Ghurab, the Raven.

  In exchange, she would provide high-level operational intelligence from the Vampire Dominion.

  Morte glowered at her and demanded, “What brings the right and left hands of the Demon to this land?”

  Chloe replied calmly, “Crane believes the Interpretive Codex is in the hands of Shabbah al Ahmar and he wishes to possess it.”

  “Does he believe that four vampires … no, make that three vampires can breach our defenses?”

  Chloe arched an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly and offered with the merest hint of a smile, “… I’m here.”

  Like a wolf circling its prey, Morte stalked around her and declared incredulously, “You would dare to challenge us here, alone and unarmed?”

  Chloe smiled softly, her eyes glistening with an avid desire. She remained poised and still, without a hint of fear.

  Around her, men loosened swords in their scabbards. Safeties were released on Uzi submachine guns. The bullets within them reeked of silver. The anticipation in the room rang like a bell. All these men had been trained from childhood to do one thing very well - to kill, and especially to kill vampires.

  Morte snorted once and answered himself, “Of course not. You play your own game.”

  Chloe arched an eyebrow. Which is why I’m talking and you, and your men are not dying on my blade. “Yes,” she conceded. “Shall we begin?”

  “What do you have to offer?”

  “I will provide you with the exact location of the Key of Ahknaton, and the Papyrus of Hakron the scribe. All I require in payment is to verify that you have the Interpretive Codex.”

  Morte sneered derisively, “What makes you think that I have the Codex? Crane is delusional.”

  “Crane’s information is good. You have the Codex.”

  Morte frowned. “You are very certain about such a doubtful claim.”

  “Unless the Red Empire has lost the Codex, it still has it, as it has been in your family line for five thousand years.”

  “What you offer is insufficient,” Morte declared with a scowl, silently conceding his possession of the Codex.

  Chloe smiled warmly. “I also offer my continued good will and future opportunities for mutual benefit … which is an offer of great value.”

  Morte stroked his short dark beard for a long moment. “So be it. I need to ensure that you have no recording equipment, such as a contact lens with data storage capabilities. I will need you to be closely examined before you can approach the Codex.”

  “Of course,” Chloe agreed.

  Morte glanced at one of his men and commanded, “Search her.”

  A young member of the Red Empire force stepped forward with a device the size of a smartphone. Chloe stood still as he swept the device over her body, running it carefully and slowly in front of her face. The device gave a quick chirp as a green light flashed on the screen.

  “She’s clear,” the young man reported, and rejoined the ranks surrounding her.

  Morte touched his earpiece, speaking rapid commands in Arabic. A minute later, the large doors at the end of the hall opened and an old man dressed in a simple gray robe walked into the hall. He carried a long, silver scroll case. Bowing low before Shabbah al Ahmar he handed over the case. Morte dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and moments later the doors were once again closed and locked.

  Chloe continued to look straight ahead. Her stance poised and relaxed as the breathing and heartbeats of unseen guards beyond the doorway whispered in her ears. She assessed her situation, Another eight outside this room.

  Morte stepped away from her. He opened the case, and extracted the scroll within. He walked away from her and placed it flat on a lectern at the rear of the hall. The scroll was much shorter than the Papyrus of Hakron the Scribe, only a foot square.

  Chloe remained still, revealing nothing. With such a short piece of papyrus it must be instructions only. She seethed with anticipation, she was close, so very close to what she sought.

  “You must approach without any clothing or equipment of any sort,” Morte demanded.

  Chloe arched an eyebrow. “… Agreed.” She was dressed in loose combat fatigues. She undid her belts and webbing, her hand automatically reaching for her scabbard on her left hip. She smiled wryly as she clutched empty air. Looking to her right, the leader of the squad that had escorted her was holding her sword and belt. She wondered if he comprehended the rare value of the blade, fashioned from meteoric iron by a genius sword smith in late 17th century Japan. Without doubt, she would soon hold it again.

  Chloe completed her disrobing, placing her clothes in a neat pile on top of her combat boots in the middle of the room. The room fell into near-perfect silence as the assembled Red Empire assassins watched her walk in naked confidence toward the lectern.

  Every eye watched her with avid attention. Every sword was drawn and raised in ruthless salute. The doors to the room had been securely locked and offered no escape. Twenty-five heart beats accelerated as she reached the lectern, stood behind it and glanced down at the Codex.

  The arcane symbols on the Papyrus coalesced within her mind. A mind fueled by nearly two centuries of access to the wealth of Crane’s unique library. A mind gifted with an eidetic memory. So that is how it works, how remarkable to devise such a code in such an ancient time.

  Chloe looked up from the Codex and briefly scanned the assembly of Red Empire Assassins. For a long moment, her eyes unfocused as she merged the instructions of the Codex and her perfect memory of Hakron’s Papyrus into a single image. She realized the truth of the Key of Ahknaton, the Metaframe and the genesis of the vampires.

  Intense joy bloomed within her, surging euphoria rushed up her body and fountained through the top of her head. The realization was both shocking and profound. In a rare moment of abandon, she laughed out loud. Vampires were an accident - who knew?

  The men in the room swayed before her, her laughter had momentarily unnerved them. Their confident stances became defensive as they murmured warnings to each other.

  Chloe slowly stroked her chin - just once before her hand dropped back to the lectern. Her eyes widened, a ghost of a smile curling her lips, she took a deep breath and sighed softly. She was suddenly intrigued with the possibility of seizing the Codex and fighting her way out of the citadel. The daring nature of the deed excited every fiber of her being. No vampire had ever accomplished such a thing. The theft of the most holy artifact of the Red Empire from the heart of their citadel. She was the premier warrior of her kind, unequaled in skill with the blade. If any vampire was going to complete the feat, it would be her.

  She contemplated the twenty-five Red Empire assassins surrounding her. Twenty-five Ramp masters, each a highly skilled and experienced killer versus her unarmed self. Her mind accelerated, racing through options, calculating results versus risks, anticipating action, and counter-action. In a moment, a path of probability opened, revealing a set of actions that made the chance of success substantially better than a coin toss.

  She was sorely tempted. The assassin that stood ten feet to the left of her would be the first to fall. His sword would become her own. The man standing opposite him would rush to attack her and he would be next to die. Then with a sword in each hand, she would reap the lives of the elite warriors of the Red Empire.

  The leader of the escort squad would be the sixteenth man to die. She would leave a blade in his heart and then with her katana, the Red Dragon, in her hand, she would kill the remaining nine in … fourteen seconds.

  She would leave Dalien Morte to the last. To give him time to fully understand the depths of his failure in allowing her to enter the heart of his citadel. With the room cleared, she would reclaim her clothes. Then with the Codex in her left hand and the Red Dragon in her right, she would leave the citadel, slaying all who would oppose her departure.

  The rush of wonderful joy she felt now would be sublimated into divine bliss.

  She tapped the sides of the lectern with her fingers and stepped back. Rationality curbing her passionate desire. She could not deliver the Codex to Crane. Once he had possession of the Codex, it was certain he would soon decide she was no longer needed. With Allemande’s curse in place she was unable to defend herself against him. She would surely perish and her vision of a new world order would die with her.

  Chloe took a breath, and addressed the assembly, “You do not trust me. Given that you do not know me, that is understandable, but tonight you will discover that I keep my word. This is the Interpretive Codex, and I will answer Shabbah al Ahmar’s questions.”

  Morte ordered the doors opened. The Codex was taken away and the room cleared. Within a minute, Chloe and Morte were alone.

  He stared at her, frowning and stroking his beard, and declared, “Everyone felt it. Your joy at seeing the Codex and your disappointment that you could not take it with you. So powerful were your emotions, these men could not help but react. You are dangerous beyond belief.”

  “I’m only dangerous to my enemies. My friends, on the other hand -” Chloe left the statement hanging. Arching an eyebrow, she smiled at him and observed wryly, “However, I am at a disadvantage, you are clothed and I am not.”

  “Of course, please dress.”

  Chloe put her clothes back on and declared, “The answer is simple. The Key and the Papyrus are kept in a secret room in the inner sanctum of Crane’s personal quarters in his citadel. The citadel is at 350 on Fifth Avenue, New York City. His personal chambers are on the 104th floor. The defenses of this building and the surrounding city are very formidable and designed to thwart an attack by the Order of Thoth or the Red Empire.”

  Morte pursed his lips. “That is sufficient.” He grinned, his dark brown eyes flashing with triumph. “You may go now.”

  “Thank you for your … hospitality.”

  Morte touched his earpiece and gave orders, in moments the original escort squad returned to the chamber. However, this time, the assassin who had led her into the sewers was bound with chains.

  He addressed his men. “Give General Armitage back her weapon and this man, and return her to where you found her. Ensure her safety while she is in your care.”

  Morte faced Chloe and explained, “Al Eunza owes the Red Empire a life debt, his acceptance of this mission of sacrifice will allow his true name to be remembered in honor, instead of shame.”

  Chloe nodded and offered, “If his name is to be honored, I shall ensure that his death is by the sword as befits a servant of the Red Empire.”

  Morte nodded his head once.

  Chloe accepted the black hood and followed her escort away. She reflected on what she’d observed before the hood had darkened her sight, His heart has still not returned to its normal range after seeing me nude. I will be able to leverage his desire. Now I need to bring Marcus to Jerusalem and lead Haras and Jones on a merry chase for a few weeks to allow this mission to take on the semblance of a real search.

  He thinks himself secure in this hole in the ground, but little does he know that even though I wear this hood - I can remember my steps perfectly.

  * * *

  For the umpteenth time, Anton punched the air.

  Li locked up his arm, ducking underneath his shoulder, she twisted him around, throwing him face down on the mat. He rose to one knee, sweeping with his foot, but Li had already leaped back out of range. Jumping to his feet, he gave ground as Li tested his defenses with a series of kicks that were just fast enough to get past his blocks and evasions. In moments, she finished him with a side kick that propelled him off the training deck.

  “Ha!” Li grinned. “I’m amazed, you lasted more than ten seconds that time.”

  Fantastic, I finally lasted more than ten seconds in a fight with a woman half my size and it has only taken two and a half weeks to get to double digits. Anton picked himself up, getting back onto the training mats.

  Li held up her hand and declared, “Enough.”

  Anton frowned and asserted, “I can do more.”

  “Physically, yes,” Li conceded, “but not today. We need to focus on your Ramp control.” She walked over to a rack holding Shinai and Bokken training swords made of flexible Bamboo and hardwood respectively. She picked one of the Bamboo Shinai, flexed it experimentally, and seemingly satisfied with her latest weapon she returned, and stood in front of Anton. She lifted the Shinai and asked, “What is this?”

  “A Shinai training sword,” Anton replied.

  “Those are just words, what is it?”

  “It’s a Shinai.”

  “You’re not allowed to name it. What is it?”

  “A Bamboo sword.”

  “That’s just another name, a tag. Do you think that the sign out front of the Restaurant ‘is’ the Noodle House?”

  “No, of course not,” Anton agreed, becoming exasperated.

  “Tell me what it is without words.”

 

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