City of the damned, p.12
City of the Damned, page 12
Fiedler leaned back in his office chair and switched the phone to his right ear. "There's a limit to what I can say over an unsecure line, but Acheson thought that, given what's happened, you might want to come in for a while. Lend him your expertise in these matters."
"Acheson has no need of my 'expertise', Erskine. At this point, I'd imagine he's more on the ball than I ever was, seeing as I was always just a back office type."
"Not always," Fiedler reminded him. "Back in the day, you were the man in the field, Robert. Acheson is a hard-charger who's very good at what he does, but he might need some help with this one." Fiedler paused. "And now, both of you have a personal stake in this. No pun intended, of course."
"How long has this track been on the plot?"
"Only since last night's attack. We're well behind the power curve on this one. The infestation's likely been growing for some time, but we have no idea where, or for how long. We're approaching it with the worst-case scenario in mind."
"You mean a full takeover," Ellenshaw said.
"This line isn't secure."
Ellenshaw fell silent once more. Fiedler tried waiting him out, but his officious nature didn't allow for it.
"Robert, are you interested in coming back in? If so, we can make the necessary arrangements. Of course, you'd be acting as a special consultant to the Group, and you will be compensated for your time. I'll even—"
"Are you absolutely certain that Helena is one of them?"
Fiedler heard the undercurrent of emotion in Ellenshaw's voice, and it made him uncomfortable. He was a technocrat, not someone used to dealing with the vagaries of the human condition. He fidgeted in his chair.
"That's what's been reported to me. All I know is what I've been told, and those reports are being amended here and there as more evidence comes in. So far, it does seem that Helena is in fact one of the Undead." Fiedler switched ears again. "I'm very mindful of the personal toll this must be taking on you. Please understand, the offer to come back in is just that—an offer. Don't feel obligated to accept. You can decline and remain where you are. We don't believe your personal safety has been compromised."
"I'm not worried for myself," Ellenshaw said. "Not in the slightest. Osric's playing a game while setting about his work, Erskine. This is how he is. We're like animals to him, and he enjoys torturing us for as long as he's able."
"And we intend to put a stop to it this time. But as I was saying, you're under no obligation."
"No obligation." Ellenshaw snorted. "That's hilarious, Erskine. I had no idea you'd developed such a sophisticated sense of humor while I've been gone."
"Robert, really. There's no need for—"
"I'm in," Ellenshaw said. "I'm in for the whole game. And I'm not going to step out of it until it's done. Do you understand me, Erskine?"
"Yes. Perfectly."
"I'll fly down to Los Angeles as soon as possible. I'll arrange my own transportation, as I'm sure the Group has more pressing items on its agenda right now. I'll need the address."
"Everything will be taken care of, Robert. And you'll be met at the airport. I'll see to that." Now it was Fiedler's turn to pause. "Robert... I truly am sorry for all of this. We'd hoped for the best, but—"
"The Russians have a saying: 'We'd hoped for the best, but things wound up as usual.'" With that, Ellenshaw hung up.
Fiedler removed his wire-rimmed glasses and rubbed his eyes. And to think the day was just beginning.
When Acheson returned to the Plant, he was surprised to find Sharon out of the tank. Through Kerr's glass-walled office, he watched as she and Kerr examined something on the researcher's computer screen. Acheson knocked on the door and pushed it open when Kerr waved him in.
"Hey, what's going on?" He looked at Sharon significantly.
"If I'm going to help you track Osric, I need to be operational again," Sharon said.
Acheson looked at Kerr, who leaned back in his chair and interlaced his fingers across his stomach.
"I disagreed at first," Kerr said. "But it makes some sense. We know that there's a psychic connection of sorts between... well, between the vamps. And even though it appears the regimen we've started Sharon on has showed phenomenal promise, I can't guarantee she'll be cured."
"So what are you telling me?" Acheson asked.
"We have samples of her blood and snapshots of her DNA, both pre- and post-infection. We have all the raw materials we need to keep tweaking the serum until we can refine it enough to approach 100 percent effectiveness."
Acheson looked back at Sharon. "You always were a persuasive lady."
"Everyone needs a talent, as you like to say."
Acheson grunted. "And you're for this, Andrew?"
Kerr shrugged. "The reality of the situation is we don't really need her here to continue our work. We were just going over a schedule for treatment. Provided she sticks to it, I see no need to keep her confined to the Plant." Kerr paused, stroking his full beard for a moment. "Security implications aside, that is."
"There are no security implications," Sharon said. "I feel fine. Still human."
"That's not Kerr's call," Acheson told her. To Kerr: "Have you run this past Washington?"
Kerr shook his head.
"Were you at least considering it?"
"I'd thought we'd speak about that before we finalized things," Kerr said. "At the end of the day, the decision rests with you. You're accountable."
"Thanks for keeping that in mind," Acheson said acidly.
"Mark." Sharon stood up and approached him. Acheson crossed his arms, ready for the harangue he believed was unavoidable. Instead, Sharon reached out and put her hand on his wrist.
"I need to do this," she told him softly. "Andrew can't vouch for anything medically because he's breaking new ground. But he's right about the psychic link. I can... I can already feel something in my mind."
Acheson was surprised, and so was Kerr. He leaned forward in his chair, placing his palms on his desk.
"You didn't mention this to me earlier."
Sharon looked over her shoulder at him, then back at Acheson. "I've only become aware of it over the past hour or so. It's nothing I can put my finger on..."
"Can you describe it?" Acheson asked.
Sharon thought about it for a long moment. "It's like I can sense something out there, but it's all in my head."
Kerr rose to his feet. "This might change things."
"It changes nothing, Andrew!" Sharon said. "We knew this was going to happen—hell, you brought it up yourself a few minutes ago! That it's happening—or even might be happening—shouldn't be that much of a shock to anyone!"
Kerr walked around his desk and stood beside her and Acheson. "At the very least, we need to run an EEG. We have a baseline from before, of course, and we need something to compare it to. This could be a very significant event, Sharon. It should be monitored and studied extremely carefully."
"How long will it take to run an EEG?" Acheson asked.
"An hour," Kerr said. "But running a series over the next couple of days would be extremely beneficial."
"I agree," Acheson said.
Sharon looked up at him, her expression one of betrayal. Acheson put a hand on her shoulder before she could get wound up any further.
"It's just an EEG, Sharon."
"The neurological aspects of infection are very poorly understood," Kerr said. "This could be a goldmine of knowledge."
Sharon looked at Acheson. "I really need to get out of here."
"Andrew, you said you needed an hour?"
"Yes, to start with. I'll know more once I review the results."
Acheson squeezed Sharon's shoulder. She was as tense as a bowstring.
"You can give him sixty minutes, can't you?" he asked.
Sharon nodded almost imperceptibly. "I guess," she mumbled.
"Once it's over, I'll get you out of here. I promise," Acheson said. He cupped her face in his hands gently and held her that way until she looked at him. "I promise, all right?"
She nodded a little more earnestly this time. "Okay."
Kerr walked past them. "I'll make things ready. It shouldn't take very long. I'll come back for you when it's time, Sharon." With that, he left the two of them in his office.
Acheson pulled Sharon into his arms. She put her hands on his hips and, after a moment, rested her head on his shoulder. She touched the lapel of his suit jacket.
"Your green suit," she said. "I always liked this one, but you almost never wear it."
"Green kind of bores me after ten years in the military. How're you feeling, babe?"
"I'm pretty fucked up, Mark," she said. "I don't know if I'm coming or going, and I'm scared shitless."
Acheson squeezed her. "I know." He kissed the top of her head. "We're going to get through this, one way or the other."
"Hopefully not the way where I turn into a full-on ghoul and you guys stake and behead me."
"I'm kind of rooting against that one myself." He squeezed her again. "I love you, babe."
"Will you still love me when I'm trying to fang you in a couple of nights?"
Acheson broke the embrace and pushed away, holding her at arm's length. She smiled at him sheepishly.
"Sorry," she said softly.
"It's not going to come to that," Acheson said.
Sharon reached up and touched his face. Her fingertips were cool and gentle against his skin.
"Mark..."
Kerr reappeared suddenly. "Sharon, we're ready for you now." Belatedly he added, "Sorry to interrupt."
Acheson released her. "Let me know when she's finished, Andrew. I need to check in with the others."
"Of course," Kerr said. He reached out and put a hand on Sharon's arm. "Now, if you'll follow me?"
Sharon allowed herself to be led away from Acheson. As they walked out of the office, she turned and looked back over her shoulder.
"Don't go too far, okay?" she asked, and for a moment, she looked nothing like a hardcore ex-Marine. She looked like a little girl being led off to some dark place that terrified her.
"I won't," Acheson said with a smile.
It took twice as long as usual to drive to Santa Monica because Acheson used every surveillance detection routine in the book. He piloted a Ford Crown Victoria through the streets of downtown Los Angeles, using the traffic as cover. Then he took the Hollywood Freeway for several exits, got off, doubled back, then got on again. The trip took almost an hour.
"You know, vampires don't normally travel by day," Sharon said. From the passenger seat she admired the brilliant day. It felt good to be outside, if only for a little while.
"But their flunkies do, and that's probably how we got tagged." As he spoke, he hit a speed dial button on the telephone mounted to the dashboard and activated the Blue Tooth headset in his right ear. "How's it look?"
"No signs of a tail," said Nacho Delgado, traveling in another car almost a half-mile back. "I have you in sight, and you're clear."
"Thanks. Keep your eyes out."
"Always do, amigo."
Eventually, they pulled into a parking garage off of Ocean Avenue. Acheson pocketed his cell phone and switched off the Ford's engine, then climbed out. He started around to the other side to get Sharon's door, but she threw it open herself.
"Don't worry about being the gentleman right now. We've got more important things to get through."
"Okay, you're right. Hungry?"
She shrugged and adjusted her sunglasses. "I guess."
"Come on."
He led her to a nearby restaurant called The Lobster, one of their regular haunts. Acheson requested a corner table on the terrace next to the thick glass partitions that diffused the breeze coming in off the Pacific. It was late for the lunch crowd, and he was pleased to see the nearby tables were vacant. He seated Sharon and sat down across from her, keeping the entrance in sight. Because he wore a pistol, he did not remove his jacket.
The waitress brought menus and took their drink orders. Acheson went with spring water. Sharon did the same, and looked at her menu listlessly for a time.
"Have the bodies been taken care of?" she asked. "My family?"
Acheson nodded slowly. "Yes. It'll be done."
She looked at him, but the sunglasses hid her eyes from him. "What kind of accident will they have?"
"I honestly don't know," Acheson said. "I didn't handle that. Jules did." He paused, stirring uncomfortably. "I can find out for you, but now probably isn't the best time."
"And a good time would be when? What did you think Mark, you would take me to lunch and we'd make small talk?" Sharon flipped through her menu angrily, then stopped. "Look, I don't mean to—" Her voice hitched suddenly, and she clamped a hand over her mouth. Acheson reached across the table and grabbed her free hand in his, and she held on tight. It took her a moment to pull herself together, and by the time the waitress returned with their drinks, she was under control. Just the same, she avoided eye contact with the waitress when she placed the water glasses before them.
"We'll need another minute," Acheson said.
"Sure, I'll be back in a bit," the waitress said brightly. She smiled radiantly at Acheson and walked away.
"Sharon?"
She sighed and pulled her hand away. "I'm fine. Sorry, I'm still raw."
"I know," Acheson said softly. "There's no way you couldn't be."
"Maybe I don't want to know what's going to happen to them," she said, looking through the glass at the beach and surf beyond. "Maybe it's better to just put that away for now. I can't believe I’m saying that, but it's what I've got to do, right?"
"You do whatever keeps you sane and gets you through the day."
"I want to kill that fucker, Mark. I want to take his head while he's still alive. Even better, I want to drag his Undead ass out into the sun and watch him burn."
Acheson nodded. He had similar plans for Osric.
"Where were you last night?"
Acheson hadn't been expecting the question right there and then, and he hadn't figured out how to answer it when it came. The truth was out of the question. Sharon was far too fragile for that. And even if he wanted to approach the subject honestly, he was too cowardly to tell her at the moment.
"Working," he told her. "I must've been in the elevator or the parking garage when you called. I didn't get your message or the alert until after I'd left the office."
Sharon merely nodded and continued watching the surf. Surfers and kids on boogie boards took turns trying to conquer the waves. Some of them were pretty good.
Finally, she returned to her menu. "Okay. I'm ready."
Acheson signaled the waitress, who bounced over with excessive enthusiasm. Sharon ordered a grilled Southwestern chicken Cobb salad. Acheson went for a grilled swordfish BLT. The waitress took their menus and bounded off.
"So what's the plan, and how do you see me fitting in?" Sharon asked. "I don't think you'll want me as XO now."
"Well..."
Sharon looked at him. "If Kerr pulls me out of the line for treatments and tests, I can't watch over the troops like I'm supposed to. And I'm not really here enough"—she tapped her temple with one finger—"to square away the logistics. I take it we're operating in contingency mode?"
"Yes, of course."
"Julia should be acting XO, not Cecil. I know he's got the seniority, but Jules has a mind for the details."
"Jules is working the intel side. I need her doing what she's best at." Acheson sipped some water. "Actually, I was thinking of tapping Chiho for the XO slot. She has the aptitude, and she can step into the role without wasting a lot of time spooling up."
Sharon nodded, but said nothing.
"You disagree?" Acheson asked.
After a long pause, Sharon shook her head. "No. If you think she's competent, then give her the job."
"All right. What you said back at the Plant, is that true? You can feel Osric?"
Sharon pursed her lips for a moment. She removed her sunglasses and rubbed her bloodshot eyes, then shrugged at him.
"I can feel something. A presence. But only in my head. It might just be psychosomatic, but it's not like we have a lot of experience with this kind of stuff."
"Why did Osric attack you? Why expose himself like that?"
Sharon shrugged again and put her sunglasses back on.
"You feel sensitive to sunlight?" Acheson asked.
"No more than usual." Sharon looked around the terrace, at the street below, then at the beach again. She focused on the big Ferris wheel slowly rotating near the Santa Monica Pier.
"It's nice here," she said. "Thanks for bringing me."
"You don't have to thank me," Acheson said. "Sharon... I should have been there for you. I wasn't. I'm sorry as hell for that."
"I know," she said as their food arrived.
Sharon's appetite seemed to increase the more she ate, and soon she was shoveling the salad into her mouth. It made Acheson feel a little better to see her acting so human, and he even managed to feel a little bit better about himself. Maybe things would work out. Maybe Kerr would perfect the treatment, and maybe Sharon would never have to fear the sun for a single minute.
Maybe.
"So how do we do this?" she asked when her plate was empty.
"The same as always. We scour the intel, we start looking for things that don't add up. Spikes in missing persons reports. Unusual activity at nighttime. Anything. Everything."
Sharon looked up into the sky. Seagulls cavorted nearby.
"If I can feel Osric, he can feel me, too. He might come for us again."
"You think that's his plan?"
"I don't know. If he knew where we lived, he could have killed us when we were together."
"That might have been risky, with both of us in the house at the same time. At the very least he probably wouldn't have come away from that with all his minions intact."
"I don't think he cares. More likely he's hoping to wound us, break us down bit by bit. He might start coming after the others, too. The analysts, the office staff, who knows?"
"Office staff was stood down and given furloughs. The rest of the team is staying at the Plant, so if he comes for us, he'd better be ready for a fight."
