The driver began ramping hard, his pistol tracking Anton’s movements.

  Anton ducked low and blurred to the right. The first three gun shots echoed across the yard. A fourth bullet slashed through Anton’s shirt from behind, taking a chunk out of his right shoulder. Blood streamed from his chest, back, and arm, and he could feel his lung collapse, but there was almost no pain, just a growing sense of pressure. He leaped hard over the porch rail. He flew twenty feet out into the yard, landing near the back of the Bentley in a roll.

  The driver fired twice more, the bullets zipping past Anton’s head as he ducked behind the car.

  Anton twisted around, lifting his head up just enough to stare through the car’s windows at the front of the house. He needed to get sight of his enemies if he was going to find a way to defend himself.

  The front door burst open, a fully ramped Peter Lamb blurred past the passenger, tackling the shooter and taking hold of his gun arm. There was a loud crack as the shooter’s pistol arm snapped like a twig. Grunting loudly with pain, the shooter dropped the gun.

  Peter turned in an instant, throwing the disarmed shooter directly at the passenger, knocking him to the ground.

  The shooter rolled away with a moan. The passenger leaped back to his feet and shouted, “How dare you interfere with Order business - stand down!”

  Francis and Juliette appeared on the porch, poised to fight.

  “Ramin Kain?” Francis asked, mystified.

  “He’s shot, Anton!” Peter yelled.

  “Everyone stop,” Francis commanded.

  “Where is he?” Juliette demanded, stepping off the porch and scanning the yard.

  “Here … I am,” Anton called out between gasps. He waved his left hand just above the trunk of the car. His legs gave out, his shoes slipped across the gravel, and he sank back out of sight.

  Juliette rushed around the rear of the car and appeared at Anton’s side.

  Kain stepped around the front of the Bentley, drawing a silvered Glock 9mm from a shoulder holster under his jacket. “Step back everyone,” he commanded, waving his gun around, “I’ll finish this cleanly.”

  Jay, Yvette, Chiara and Li rushed into the yard from the training barn.

  Anton slumped back against the side of the car and wheezed at Juliette, “Who … are they?”

  “The Order,” Juliette noted in tight hard tones, staring up at Kain. She assessed his wounds in a moment. Grabbed his right index finger and jammed it straight into the first bullet wound in his chest, and ordered in tight, hard tones, “Hold this still.”

  Anton gasped. Li and Chiara appeared next to him, crowding in, applying pressure to his wounds.

  Juliette stood up, facing Kain across Anton’s splayed legs. Her voice cut through the air like a sharp knife as she stated with absolute conviction, “I declare sanctuary on Anton Slayne.”

  Everyone stopped, and all Anton could hear was his own wheezing.

  Kain staggered back a step as if slapped. His pistol hand dropped to his side, and he objected, “You can’t do that.”

  “Whoa,” Peter declared from the front of the car. “She just did.”

  Kain spluttered. “This is outrageous. It’s the law.”

  Francis promised in cutting tones from the porch, “Harm my wife, and I will have your head on a platter.”

  Juliette put her hand on Anton’s head, and a sad peacefulness swept through him. Li looked at him, her face filled with horror. Chiara’s face was serious and tense. His breathing was horribly labored, his heart racing. He coughed hard, blood spraying in a pink mist. Broken ribs, a ruptured lung, and his broken arm erupted into fiery agony. It was like a pin had been pulled, a floodgate loosed and pain washed through his body. He gritted his teeth and attempted to bear it, but a groan escaped his lips.

  “Peter come here,” Juliette ordered. “We need to get him into my clinic now.”

  Peter appeared next to Anton. Lifting him effortlessly, Peter carried him inside the house and down the halls to the medical rooms. He put him gently onto a table. The lights were already on, they were terribly bright, and Anton clenched his eyes shut.

  “Stay with us Anton, I’m going to have to operate, and fast,” Juliette directed.

  The world closed in, and he fell away into darkness.

  * * *

  The Bentley was brand new. Its sophisticated onboard electronics allowed the car to drive itself. Its powerful headlights cut through the night as the car raced along the I-95 toward New York City.

  Ramin sat in the driver’s seat deep in thought. There was a movement on the edge of his vision. He looked across at Sam, his partner was carefully cradling his right arm close to his chest. The break had been a simple one, Ramin had set it, and used Sam’s tie and his Glock pistol as a simple splint.

  Sam looked at him and declared incredulously, “He’s faster than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

  “It’s not your fault, Sam.”

  “He’s faster than anyone has any right to be, he ramped straight out of the blocks.”

  Ramin nodded. “Yes, he is very fast and very lucky.”

  “Then there was Lamb, he broke my arm - who are these people.”

  “Dinosaurs.”

  “RK?”

  “On the way to their own extinction.”

  “Well, he’s probably dead.”

  “Maybe, maybe not - we can’t assume that.”

  “Oh, I hope he’s dead. The Slaynes are such a threat to what we’re trying to achieve.”

  “Unfortunately, Juliette Mirovar is a crack combat surgeon.”

  “I got him twice in the chest,” Sam noted despondently. Attempting to poke his own chest with his right hand. He winced, lowered his broken arm, and swore under his breath.

  “And good shots they were too, Sam.”

  “Surely, he’s dead, he would have bled out.”

  Ramin frowned in the shadows of the cabin. “Until it is proven otherwise, we have to assume that he has survived.”

  “I screwed up. I should’ve put the first one in his head.”

  “Don’t worry Sam, there will be another chance to put this right.”

  “What are your plans?”

  Ramin smiled briefly. “Oh, I’m sure that another opportunity will present itself soon enough.”

  “We can’t just go and shoot him again. Juliette Mirovar has declared sanctuary on him.”

  “Yes.” Ramin paused for a long moment. “Direct action is off the table. We will have to … do something else.”

  “Is she crazy, why did she do that?”

  “She’s a traditionalist, just like her husband.”

  Sam shook his head. “Madness.”

  “Quite so,” Ramin noted sagely. “Attachment to the past is a form of insanity, and in the end, it will get them all killed.”

  “I hope so.”

  Ramin faced forward, staring into the distance. He let the conversation lapse, there was nothing new to be said. Sam understood his plans to transform the Order of Thoth and bring it into the twenty-first century. It was good to have a loyal confidant who fully understood the need to centralize power and control with a single capable leader. If the Order was truly united underneath a single commander, it could be wielded as a real force against the vampires.

  Once the transformation of the Order was complete, then Crane would discover just who was playing whom.

  Ramin’s face froze as he burned with old resentments. Mirovar. Mirovar! MIROVAR! He’s a dinosaur. He’s everything that has to change in the Order if we are to move forward.

  Ramin rubbed his right temple, he could feel a headache coming on. Today’s events had gone badly. The opportunity to kill Anton Slayne under the remit of protecting the secrecy of the Order had been lost. Possibly, he was still alive, a living threat that could undermine his rulership of the Order. While everyone continued blaming Arthur Slayne for the deaths of Mary Creeley and George Madison, no one was looking for the truth, but Anton Slayne could change all that - if he survived.

  Anton Slayne was now sheltering underneath Juliette Mirovar’s wings. Something must be done about that, but first, he had to give Crane a name. He couldn’t tell him about Anton Slayne, Crane would wonder why he never mentioned him to start with. He’d recognized William Slayne at a public lecture at Boston University. He’d found out that he was calling himself William Smith, but Ramin always thought of him as a Slayne, and that was what he’d reported. After all, it had always been the Slaynes who possessed the Papyrus of Hakron the Scribe and that was what Crane was really interested in.

  If Crane knew that Arthur Slayne had a living grandson, he would investigate him. He would be very interested in Anton Slayne, after all, Arthur Slayne was still out there, and the last thing that Crane would want would be a return of the Slaynes to leadership within the Order.

  There was already an identity in play - Anton Smith - he decided to give Crane that name. Most likely he would look no further. It would be a disaster to have someone with Crane’s powers look too closely at his past relationship with the Slayne family. Crane’s investigations could lead him back to Ramin, and he couldn’t let that happen. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to find out he’d killed Mary Creeley and George Madison. No one must ever know what really happened.

  Ramin opened up his smartphone, held it so that Sam could not read the screen, typed in a message and sent it to Cornelius Crane.

  * * *

  The smartphone’s screen lit up with a message, ‘The other survivor at the Boston dock was Anton Smith.’

  Cornelius’ lip curled skeptically. Both Ramin Kain and Chloe Armitage claimed that the other survivor was Anton Smith.

  He sat by himself at his desk in his library. In front of him was an open folder holding a freshly printed copy of Chloe Armitage’s report. Turning the last page, he closed the folder.

  There was a laptop on his desk, he used it to log into the Panopticon.

  Cornelius ran searches on Anton Smith, Gang Wu, Li Wu, William Slayne and Anna Slayne. After twenty minutes of careful work, there were several clear conclusions. Gang Wu and Anna Slayne were dead. According to the Panopticon, William Slayne was missing, but Cornelius knew that William Slayne was a vampire interred in silver at the secret facility on Rikers Island. Li Wu and Anton Smith had disappeared. Crane surmised that they had gone to ground with the Mirovar force team at a safe house. He hungered to know where they were now, but the Order continued to evade the Panopticon.

  Cornelius glanced at the closed report next to his laptop.

  There was no connection between Anton Smith, and Anna and William Slayne. Anton Smith was likely switched on with the pressure point technique by Gang Wu. It was a risky process, and he was lucky to survive it. However, it was the explanation that best fit the facts.

  Cornelius sat back in his chair, slowly stroking his chin.

  Everything seemed to check out, there is no way that Chloe and Kain could be colluding on anything. The Panopticon confirmed that Anton Smith was an orphan who had recently been closely associated with the Wu family and now he’d disappeared with the Mirovar force team.

  The story, around this young man who had appeared from nowhere, checked out neatly.

  Cornelius paused mid-thought.

  Perhaps too much so.

  There was a single thought, like a splinter in his mind, working its way deeper and deeper into a festering wound.

  Chloe Armitage and her ambitions.

  Leaning forward, Crane opened the intercom and instructed, “Ursula, please recall General Clayton Maze from Nairobi. I want him back in New York City within three days.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she responded.

  It was unsafe to assume he’d mastered all the information. Boston had taught him the dangers of complacency. It would be best to bring in another set of eyes of proven loyalty. He would set a wolf to watch a fox and make sure that Chloe Armitage was not playing any games.

  * * *

  Louise Wesson lay in her Massachusetts General hospital bed, with her eyes closed and her ears open.

  While she appeared to be sleeping, she was wide awake, her mind on fire, processing the events of the previous night. She was fully aware of the young, armed, Boston Police Department officer sitting outside her room. He’d been assigned for her protection by a city that saw her as an agent for a Federal Government anti-terrorism task force, but she knew better.

  She was expecting a visitor, someone who would tie off loose ends. She’d secreted a dinner knife under her sheet, it wasn’t much, but in her hands, it was far more dangerous than it appeared. There was a rustle outside her door, the slight scrape of a chair across a linoleum floor as the BPD officer stood up. There was a brief conversation followed by a light knock on the door.

  “Ms. Wesson. May I please come in?” queried a voice she immediately recognized.

  Louise pushed herself up into a sitting position and replied, “Of course, General Armitage, please come in.”

  The door opened, and Chloe walked into the room. She nodded at Louise, indicated a nearby chair and asked, “Do you mind if I sit?”

  “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

  “Thank you,” Chloe offered. Repositioning the chair so that she could sit within easy reach of Louise.

  The two women looked at each other calmly for a moment, neither giving anything away.

  Chloe leaned forward slightly and offered, “I wanted to personally thank you for your service last night. It is clear that you have acted with honor and bravery under the most trying circumstances, and it has not gone unnoticed.”

  Louise drew upon a decade of specialized training to master her autonomic responses. She harnessed her sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems and put pupil dilation, heart rate, perspiration rates, capillary response and breathing under conscious control. Her long history as an elite CIA spy hunter and assassin equipped her perfectly for this moment.

  “I only wish the outcome had been different,” Louise declared earnestly.

  “Don’t we all. However, every defeat is an opportunity to learn,” Chloe replied sagely.

  “That’s true.”

  Chloe leaned further forward, resting her hand lightly on Louise’s wrist. Her face lit with concern, she offered, “I’m glad you survived, I was impressed with your work at the Noodle House, you’re very insightful, and Shadowstone needs you.” Chloe looked into Louise’s eyes. “… We need you. We need someone who is sharp and decisive at the head of the North American arm of Shadowstone, and I believe that is you.”

  “Are you offering me the job?” Louise asked with surprised interest.

  Chloe smiled. “Not yet. Mr. Haley still has some work to do. But I believe the position will become available in the not too distant future.”

  “I’m honored,” Louise acknowledged.

  “You’ve earned it.”

  “Thank you.”

  Chloe’s smile faded away.

  “In the meantime, there is much work to do. It’s a shame you’re still here,” Chloe noted, frowning with concern. “How is your concussion?”

  “Good,” Louise answered. There was the slightest increase of pressure on her wrist under Chloe’s hand. “I should be out of here tomorrow morning.”

  “Excellent, and your memory?” Chloe asked, watching Louise steadily.

  Louise shook her head and replied, “I still feel like I’ve been on the wrong end of a Shadowstone sleeper dart. All I’ve got are flashes of the nightfalcons arriving in the early afternoon, after that - it’s a black hole.”

  Chloe nodded and observed, “Perhaps it’s for the best. You don’t want to be carrying all that … slaughter with you for the rest of your life.”

  Louise nodded and agreed, “Yes. It’s a memory I don’t need.”

  Chloe let go of Louise’s wrist. Standing up, she directed, “Thank you for your time, now when you discharge tomorrow morning, go to Fort Dix and report in. Shadowstone needs rebuilding, and you will be playing a critical part in that process.”

  “Will do, Ma’am.”

  Chloe nodded once, turning away, she left the room. The BPD officer poked his head into the room with a quizzical look on his face. Louise tilted her head, he backed away and closed the door.

  Louise reflected on her experience at the Boston warehouse, she remembered everything up to the point where James Haley had pushed her aside and shouted ‘incoming’ and the grenades had starting exploding through the troop of Shadowstone operatives. She remembered throwing up on Haley’s shoes and watching him walk away while fitting a silencer to his Glock 9mm. She remembered everything with the trained precision of a highly experienced CIA black-ops operative at the top of her game.

  She bit her bottom lip pensively. I’m working for vampires, and they don’t know that I know.

  Louise was suddenly sick to her stomach and almost gagged before her training mastered the automatic responses. She took a couple of slow, deep breaths as determination nourished from deep within herself welled forth. With razor sharp clarity she began to plan her response to the existence of vampires. A small smile caressed her face. She always felt at her best when she had a mission she believed in.

  Chapter Nine

  “Behind every unquestionable belief is a system of control.” - Juliette Mirovar, loremaster of the Order of Thoth

  * * *

  White Hill, Maine, June 12th, 22:30

  A dull light leaked through Anton’s eyelids.

  He blinked a couple of times, before squeezing his eyes shut again. He was lying on a table. There was a nearby machine whispering away, and there was something hard and uncomfortable in his throat.

  There’s a tube down my throat.

  Anton tested his fingers and toes, he could wiggle all of them. There was a dull ache across his chest, especially on the left side and his left arm was in a cast. There were people nearby speaking with quiet voices.

 

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