“See that you do.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Confident of his safety and the effectiveness of Allemande’s curse, Cornelius turned away from Chloe. Stepping toward the broad windows, he surveyed the city before him. The boardroom was reflected in the transparent armor; to his right he could see that Chloe had moved up, standing a couple of yards back from his shoulder.

  Cornelius studied the city-lit nightscape and asserted, “I believe that the Red Empire has commenced operations in North America. The attack in Jerusalem and this event in Boston are too closely linked not to be part of a coordinated plan.”

  “I agree,” Chloe conceded. “It would not surprise me to discover that Shabbah al Ahmar has a secret agent in Francis Mirovar’s force team - it would allow for a coordinated action just like this.”

  Cornelius stared at Chloe’s reflection in the boardroom windows incredulously. “You suggest that the Red Ghost has co-opted Mirovar.”

  “Not with Mirovar’s knowledge, just someone on the inside who he trusts. Someone who is able to provide information at the right time and make Mirovar a cat’s paw for the Red Empire.”

  Cornelius stared out the window, his voice thoughtful as he observed, “Well as unlikely as that may seem, if you live long enough, you will see all manner of improbable things come to pass.”

  “Yes, Cornelius - our enemies surround us on all sides.”

  “The Order have lost respect for our power and must be taught a sharp lesson. You have carte blanche for operations against the Mirovar force team in North America. Fulfill the promise that you made in Jerusalem and bring their heads to me. First, we must quell this pathetic rebellion and then refocus our efforts on recovery of the Interpretive Codex. Never forget, securing access to the Metaframe is our primary goal.”

  “Yes, Sir, understood.”

  “Set Haley, and Wesson - if she can be trusted - to rebuilding Shadowstone, and do it quickly. I want Shadowstone back to full strength within three months. Focus on recruiting special forces, we need warriors more than we need intelligence operatives. The state of play between the Ramp Masters and the Vampire Dominion is evolving rapidly.”

  “Cornelius?”

  Cornelius stared at her reflection in the window. “You know what you need to know.”

  “Yes, Cornelius, and what of the praetorians?”

  Cornelius smiled grimly. “I will personally select and recruit them. I will call on you when the time is right. I will need more than one vampire to help me convert as many as I need.”

  “Yes, Cornelius.” Chloe smiled slightly. “Of course, I will render every possible assistance.”

  Cornelius turned to her and noted without hesitation, “I am sure that you will.”

  Or else you will discover that my patience with you has worn out.

  * * *

  Carte blanche, Perfect. Chloe thought triumphantly.

  Crane believed the might of the Red Empire was on the move. Chloe determined to leverage that belief in full. She mastered the impulse to smile broadly, keeping her face calm and her expression alert. Her body completed healing itself from the trauma of Crane’s recent attack and the ripping forces of Allemande’s curse. She waited patiently for the meeting to end.

  Crane stroked his chin contemplatively, tapping his index finger against his lips. He pointed his finger at Chloe and declared, “There is one more thing.”

  “Yes, Cornelius?”

  “There were three Order of Thoth operatives in Boston; Gang Wu, his daughter Li and someone else. I’ve reason to believe the Wus were closely associated with the Slaynes. I need to know who that other person was. Whoever he is, he survived a battle with six praetorians and yourself, and he has appeared from nowhere. It’s imperative we find out precisely who he is and determine the risk he presents to our operations.”

  Chloe’s heart froze. Crane was so close to the truth. The smallest misstep and her plan would come undone.

  “Cornelius, the Panopticon identified him as Anton Smith, he is young, he must have been trained in secret by Gang Wu.”

  “I want a comprehensive report on my desk by tomorrow night.”

  “Yes, Sir. I will start immediately.”

  “Good work, you are dismissed.”

  Chloe nodded, bowed respectfully and departed the boardroom.

  James Haley had best be awake, she thought furiously. He has work to do. And what of Ramin Kain, if he is the traitor in the Order, he could reveal the truth to Crane. I can’t let that happen.

  Chloe entered the elevator, ascending to the external helipad on top of Crane’s Citadel. The pilot and the R.I.S.C helicopter were still there.

  “Move it! Now!” Chloe shouted, running over to the helicopter cabin. The pilot started the engine. In moments the sleek, black and red helicopter was aloft. She gave him directions to her Manhattan penthouse; they would be there in minutes.

  She had to move quickly. There was too much evidence in the Panopticon, it would have to be cleansed immediately.

  * * *

  Chloe entered her penthouse suite. Sat down at her desk. Opened her personal laptop and logged into the Panopticon. Opening her smartphone, she dialed Louise Wesson’s phone. She expected James Haley would still have it. James was essential to her plan. She needed his knowledge of Shadowstone and his ability to act in daylight.

  James will respond to trust with loyalty, she thought. I must exploit that weakness.

  The phone rang three times before it was answered.

  “Ma’am?” James asked, a slight tremor tinging the edge of his voice.

  “James, I have a critically important task that only you can do.”

  “… Yes, Ma’am. What is it?”

  “We need to reset the history of Anton Smith away from his parents and his family home in Jamaica Plain. There can be no connection between the Anton Smith in the Panopticon records and the identities of William and Anna Smith. They must become childless, and Anton must have a new set of parents. We should also position him as close to the Noodle House as is practically possible.”

  “The identity of Anton Smith is already a fake.”

  “Indeed, it is, James. Well done. We’ll have to take this another step forward. It will be a fake of a fake, the second level of misdirection.”

  “This will be messy,” James warned. “There will be physical records, such as photos, that we will not be able to reach.”

  “That doesn’t matter, we simply need to ensure that the Panopticon does not link Anton Smith to his real parents in any way, shape or form - is that clear?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. When do you want it done?”

  “Immediately. It must be completed before dawn.”

  James paused for a long moment. “That’s impossible.”

  “No, it’s not - don’t disappoint me - use the R.I.S.C building in Boston. It’s only minutes away from where you are. You can access the Panopticon from there without being disturbed.”

  “I don’t have the right privileges to do this. I’m going to have to dig through a multitude of systems.”

  Chloe tapped her keyboard. “You do now – I’ve elevated you to my level for the next eight hours, make the most of it.”

  “… Yes, Ma’am,” James paused again, his voice steadying. “There is a way this could be done.”

  “Yes?”

  “No parents at all, we can make him a foundling orphan, a ward of the state. All the state records are easily accessed, all the public elements of his life will remain untouched, schools, sporting teams, online accounts, everything. We just insert him into the right records, it will do the job, a lot less complicated than putting him into another real family.”

  “I knew that I could rely on you James, now make it so.”

  “Yes, Ma’am will do.”

  “… While I have you - what of my sword - has it been recovered?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. The praetorians have it. I asked them for it, but they would not release it to me,” James answered, his voice betraying his disappointment.

  “Don’t worry about that. The praetorians will bring it to me, that task is complete. I need you to focus on the new mission.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” James confirmed, his voice steady for the first time in the call.

  “Send me a text when you are done, and get a new phone, I can’t be calling Louise Wesson all the time.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “By the way James, how is Ms. Wesson? I am a little surprised she is still alive.”

  “She is concussed; she has no memory of the battle or knowledge of vampires.”

  “James,” Chloe affirmed warmly. “I am sure you will manage the risk. You are on a new path now, embrace it, and all will be well.”

  “Yes, Ma’am … yes, Ma’am, I will.”

  “Send me a text when the work is done.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Chloe hung up the call and put the smartphone down.

  The Panopticon system data streamed down her laptop monitor. Chloe accelerated her mind, her fingers flashing over the keyboard faster than a human eye could follow. The computer responded, the images and command line text becoming a blur. After thirty minutes of dedicated work, she’d erased all evidence that could personally link Anton Slayne (alias Smith) to herself. Especially the conversation recorded the morning before in the garden behind the Wu residence, where so much had been revealed about the Slaynes. Now there was only the task of restructuring the false identity of Anton Smith, which James would complete before sunrise. She relaxed, leaning back in her chair and allowing her mind to float freely.

  She surprised herself with an unladylike snort of laughter.

  Anton Smith 2.0 is about to be born.

  “Now to focus on dismembering the schemes of Ramin Kain,” she whispered to the empty room.

  * * *

  It was a cloudless night, the sky was crystal clear, dominated by a full moon and a massive river of stars.

  Anton stood in an open field, a short distance in front of him was a wooden fence, painted white like the ones used to corral horses. There was an awful insistent murmuring behind him, and a dreadful feeling crept through him. His breathing was suddenly shallow, his lungs tight; he forced himself to turn around.

  A writhing mass of naked humanity lay before him; the crowd of people seethed and heaved, stretching away into the distance as far as the eye could see. Above the people, hovering mere yards away from Anton, was a creature beyond nightmare - his eyes widened, instinctively taking a step backward and lifting his arm up as if to ward off an attack.

  Its body was leech-like, easily thirty yards long and about two yards across. Its pale, translucent skin glistened wetly in the moonlight. The creature’s internal organs were dark shadows, visibly writhing beneath its skin. Its large, saucer-shaped eyes were blood red, with vertical irises like a cat. Its lipless mouth reflexively gaped open, revealing rows of needlepoint teeth. Its tail ended in a foot-long sting; scalpel sharp and slick with venom.

  The creature glided over its host, its head bowing low over one particular specimen, a healthy young fellow who moved with more vigor than the rest. Slit-shaped nostrils flared, the monster’s tail quivered, lashing forward, the sting plunged into the man’s back. A pouch directly above the sting violently contracted, injecting venom, and inducing a sudden lethargy in the man.

  In plain sight of Anton, the man slumped to the ground. His plight ignored by the crowd of humanity instinctively moving away from him.

  The head of the creature swung lower, red eyes gleaming with wet hunger, it fixed its mouth onto the man’s abdomen with an unbreakable grip. The man’s eyes stared blankly, venom coursing through his veins, he was unable to grasp what was happening to him.

  Anton froze with terror - panting - unable to move.

  The parasite extended a proboscis from within its throat into the man’s abdomen, flushing his body with digestive fluids. The man’s organs were rendered into a dark mush, and drawn up into the hovering monster. Anton watched in horror as the man was consumed from the inside out. In a handful of seconds, his body collapsed into a dried husk, the crowd surged back, and he disappeared beneath the living, his loss unnoticed by those around him.

  Anton rose high into the night sky as if lifted on the hand of a giant. The air rushed past him until the curve of the Earth stretched before him. Beneath him, the surface of the world was crisscrossed by white fences, and within each corral, there was a mass of humanity attended by a parasite.

  To the east was a single tower, rising high above all else. It gleamed in the moonlight, on top of it floated the largest of the leeches, surveying the world below with a tireless intelligence.

  Anton flew helplessly toward the tower with tremendous speed, and in a moment the tower filled his vision. It was taller than it first appeared and he was lifted upward until he reached the marble platform of the ruler of the world.

  The monster turned to face him, its baleful gaze boring deeply into his soul.

  Anton shivered as the creature’s insatiable hunger flowed over him in an icy wave. Its mouth gaped open, its fangs gleaming in the bright moonlight, its harsh voice cracked through the air like thunder.

  “You are mine!”

  The monster lunged forward.

  Anton awoke in a cold sweat, his throat dry, and his heart pounding.

  A hand with fathomless strength grabbed his shoulder, and a deep voice asked, “Hey buddy - are you okay? You were screaming like a girl.”

  Anton’s eyes focused, and he recognized the burly form of the man named Peter. He sat opposite Anton in the van as it drove smoothly through the night. He glanced around the dim interior of the vehicle. The rest of the members of the Mirovar force team sat in their seats looking at him with quizzical expressions on their faces, only Li and Peter evidenced any concern.

  “We’re farmed like cattle,” Anton muttered.

  Peter snorted, slapping Anton on the shoulder. “You’ve woken up - good.”

  Anton gave him a dark look.

  “We’re almost home,” Peter enthused. “You’ll feel a lot better once you get something to eat.”

  A wave of nausea gripped Anton’s stomach.

  Everything is wrong, he thought. He swallowed hard against a sudden reflex to vomit.

  * * *

  The wheels of the van crunched over a gravel yard before pulling to a stop.

  An athletic young man with dirty-blond hair and a close-cropped beard slid the side door open and leaped out of the vehicle. In moments, most of the team followed him, leaving Anton and Li in the cabin.

  Seconds later, the rear doors of the van opened, and the bearded young man directed, “Bring his body out now.”

  Under the interior lights of the van, Anton looked down at Gang’s body, now wrapped in a black, plastic tarp. Li maneuvered over to the other side of her father’s corpse, and he nodded when she caught his eye. Together they gently lifted Gang’s body and carried him out of the back of the van.

  Once clear of the van, Anton adjusted his hold, lifting Gang’s body by himself. Li let go, ducking back into the van to retrieve their dragon swords.

  The cool night air struck Anton like a jolt of caffeine. He took a deep breath and a small surge of energy sparked along his limbs. There was not much left to draw on, the last thirty-six hours had taken their toll. Someone switched off the van’s engines and killed the lights. The sky was brilliantly lit by an ocean of stars. He paused, drunk on their beauty in stark contrast to the mute sadness of carrying the lifeless body of Gang Wu.

  In the distance was a very faint glow, a small rural town a handful of miles away. The yard was big, easily a hundred yards across, the boundaries dominated by a pair of large wooden barns that stood opposite each other, and an even larger haystack. At the head of the yard, a large two-story house loomed, several ground floor windows lit by interior lights.

  Peter and Francis flicked on flashlights, and Li returned with their swords.

  Francis waved his flashlight toward the far barn and commanded, “Peter, take them into the main barn and set Gang’s body on a table. We will bury him tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Sure, Boss. Anton and Li, follow me,” Peter called back over his shoulder, as he strode toward the barn.

  They followed him. In a minute, they were inside the barn, and Peter was clearing a space on a large wooden table with easy familiarity.

  “You’ve done this before?” Anton asked.

  “There are occasional casualties, we always have a place to put people before burial.”

  “Right.”

  Anton placed Gang’s body onto the table. Adjusting the tarp to ensure there were no gaps leading into the body. Li put her hand on the tarp and bowed her head. Anton did the same, feeling flat, drained, and numb. The adrenaline from the battle at the Boston warehouse had completely worn off, leaving him mentally and physically exhausted.

  Peter stood back from the table, waiting patiently. When they looked up, he observed, “Time for our debrief. Hopefully, the Jorgenson’s have catered for our arrival.”

  “The Jorgensons?” Anton asked.

  “This is a working farm, John and Mary Jorgenson are order helpers who live here. The farm makes a small profit, pays taxes and provides a perfect cover for what we really do here.”

  “Order helpers, like the two guys that were with the van back in Boston?”

  “Yes. Not everyone in the Order is at the tip of the spear.”

  Anton nodded.

  “Follow me,” Peter directed. He led them from the barn. Once back out in the night air, he shut the barn door behind them and strode toward the house.

  Anton and Li fell in beside him, and Anton asked, “No locks?”

  Peter smiled. “Not needed. We have some sensors. He’ll be safe tonight.”

  “Oh,” Anton grunted.

  They approached the house, which was a large, two-story affair with a pair of wide wings left and right. There was enough light leaking through the curtained windows to see that the house was built with a classic New England architecture and was well maintained.

 

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