by John Conroe
>You’re welcome!< Nika’s voice answered my thoughts.
“Ah, Officer Gordon. I don’t normally get to meet with fugitives from justice,” Kincaid said with a light voice. He didn’t offer to shake my hand, instead simply point to the chair across the chess table from his own. We both sat and the general sat on the bench next to our table.
“So Mr. Kincaid, who doesn’t meet with fugitives, can I assume you represent the White House in this?”
He frowned, just slightly, and only for a micro second. Ah, good…take that you smarmy bastard!
“Yes…” he said, but I interrupted.
“Good, because I would just as soon get this done in one sitting. I don’t want to waste time.”
His eyes flashed darkly, not liking my control of the conversation.
He paused to regroup, taking a drink from his Starbucks coffee, and adjusting the angle of the laptop that sat open in front of him on the chess table. I noticed that the little camera clipped to the top of the computer was facing me, not him.
“Officer Gordon, you are facing eight counts of murder. I assure you the evidence is overwhelmingly against you. You need to turn yourself in.”
>He’s just trying to rattle you. There is no intention of ever bringing charges for the school incident<
“Listen, Barty…do you mind if I call you Barty? Let’s cut the federal charges crap and get down to business. You, and by you I’m talking about the White House, want to control me, clone me or kill me. That’s why you’re here.”
He started at the mention of his first name, frowned and tried to gather his thoughts. I forged on ahead.
“If you’ve listened to General Creek here, and by you I’m again referring to the White House,” I nodded in Creek’s direction, “then you’ll know that I’m actively opposed to all three. So let’s get to the part where you lay out the daunting resources piled against me.”
He wore a perpetual frown now, the conversation not going anything like he imagined.
“For the sake of argument, maybe it’s a good idea to do just that,” he began. “The President has authorized the use of any and all resources of the United States government to bring you to justice. We will utilize all of our military, law enforcement, legal and economic capabilities. Granted, you appear to have formidable abilities, but you are just one man, albeit one with a rather large pet.”
“Economic? Really? Tell me about that,” I asked.
“As we sit here, operatives are in the process of seizing forty-seven of your….girlfriend’s properties. We have frozen your trust accounts, your credit cards, and have seized your apartment and vehicle. You have no resources and your ‘friends’ won’t either. We may even seize their sleeping quarters.”
I paused, fingers steepled in front of me, elbows on the table.
>Forty-seven? Tell him that the Coven is selling forty-seven billion in US Treasuries, one billion per property. Explain our economic power< Galina’s voice said. I knew she was a part of this, but I was having a hard time reconciling the fact that she was on my side. Mothers-in-law weren’t known to be supportive.
“Barty, do you even know anything about the Coven? Anything at all?” I asked
“I am the President’s Advisor on anomalous phenomenon. I am considered the country’s foremost expert on the vampires,” he said, drawing himself up.
“Really? Did you know that the Coven is the second largest holder of U.S. debt after China? Did you know we have members in every country on the planet? That our liquid assets total in excess of one trillion dollars?” I asked. “I can see that you’re having a hard time swallowing those little factoids so, if you want to pull up the bond markets on your laptop there, you can watch as we sell off forty-seven billion in treasuries in the next few minutes. One billion for every property seized. The average volume of treasuries traded daily is about 450 billion, so we’ll be selling a bit more than ten percent of that number. China took an entire month to sell thirty-five billion. Wonder what it’ll do to the markets?”
“Please – your bluff is ridiculous! Don’t you think we know who holds our debt? There is no corporation or organization that owns more than a billion without us knowing all about them. You’ll have to do better than that!” he said.
“Okay Mr. Vampire Expert, what’s the average age of a Coven member? What’s the average wealth?
How many portfolios do we run, domestic and international? How many corporations do we own outright? How many American jobs do we provide?”
He just looked at me, his face reflecting an epic struggle between anger and confusion.
“Don’t know? Here, I’ll help you out: 206 years, seven million dollars, over ten thousand portfolios, several thousand corporations, and the big number of the night…well over a million jobs!”
“Ttthat’s impossible. We would find that sort of thing!” he insisted.
“Vampires follow two sets of laws – the laws of the country they are in and the laws of the Coven”
“What the hell does that mean?” Kincaid asked.
“He means that vampires have first allegiance to the laws of the Coven, so their individual wealth becomes part of the Coven without leaving paper trails in the laws of our world,” General Creek explained.
I looked at him with fresh respect. Somebody had been listening to the real experts (he probably learned it from Roma and maybe Gina).
“Now let’s talk about your military power while we wait for the bond sales to go through. You’ve got what? Three snipers? Couple of car loads of special operators? Some of those exceedingly fit young men I see meandering about the open part of the park, each with a rather suspiciously large book bag?” I asked. “What else?”
>He is thinking about two ‘Reapers and Spooky’?< Nika said.
>Reapers are MQ-9 Reaper drones outta th 174th Fighter Squadron in Syracuse, Spooky is most likely an AC-130U gunship on station a mile or two out – watching you on high resolution cameras< Deckert’s voice chimed in.
>the weasels snagged the snipers< he added.
We had hired the weasel clan to help with outside action, as the daylight tended to distract all but the eldest vampires.
>Okay Chris, the boys in the Suburbans are asleep!<
Someone, most likely one of Deckert’s men had rolled a sleepy-time grenade under both Suburbans. The vehicles were standard make, right off the assembly line and had no special air filters. He hadn’t mentioned the blue van, ‘cause that’s where Nika and company were hanging out.
>Not sure what you can do about the air assets?< he commented.
I wasn’t either, not being sure even where they were. Okwari chose that moment to slip an image into my head, well three images, each showing one of the aircraft. He also assured me he could rip them all from the sky. I thanked him, my mind taking over the images and keeping track automatically. I didn’t want him to smash the gunship as its entire crew would be killed and they were just doing their jobs. Likewise the drones could end up smashing down on inhabited spaces in the city.
“You brought two armed Reapers and a friggin’ AC-130?” I rounded on Kincaid.
He was alternately taken aback by my anger and knowledge of his assets. Eventually his smugness returned.
“I told you, Gordon, any and all resources!”
“So you’re gonna what? Blow up lower Manhattan? Are you a moron?” I glanced at Creek, who looked tense.
Kincaid’s face turned red with anger. “I will if you or your pet get out of line!”
>He’s also thinking of ‘any other opportune targets’< Nika said, suddenly.
Other targets? That could only be Tanya and the Elders. The beast slammed his cage door at the same time my fist destroyed the side of the table closest to me. Both men jumped back.
“You’re thinking of blowing up Tanya?” I said, but it wasn’t my voice. It was much deeper and much, much rougher.
>Christian! Calm down! Handle the aircraft and try not to kill them< Tanya said,
speaking for the first time.
I was still furious, but the beast wasn’t in danger of breaking free.
“Well…lucky for you, Kincaid, my better half has talked me out of anything precipitous. But I gotta tell you – the President almost lost his ‘special envoy’!”
From inside the cage, the dark beast offered an amazing idea. Figuring what the hell, I tried it. Calling to Kirby, my shadow hawk friend, I sent him the images of the plane and two drones. The concept was that maybe if he flew through the fuselage it could disrupt the avionics. The concept turned out to be great, although I had expected him to fly through them one at a time. Instead, my minds image showed a smoky raptor form the size of a car, fly through all three at once. Either Kirby could be in three places at once or there were more than one Kirby. Either way, the effect was instantaneous. The Hercules airframe that was the gunship started to fall from the sky as all systems crashed. After dropping several hundred feet, the power came back on, at least enough to get the engines restarted. The repowered plane immediately left station and turned toward the nearest airbase, probably Stewart in Newburgh.
One of the drones had a similar experience, falling, then restarting and returning to base. The other drone just fell. And it was falling toward apartment buildings on the other side of the East River. Without conscious thought of what I was doing, I reached out with my aura and pulled the drone over the river, letting it fall into the water.
“Listen, Kincaid, we’ve rounded up your snipers, the guys in the Suburbans are knocked out, and the Spooky gunship and one of the Reapers are headed to emergency landings. The other Reaper is sinking to the bottom of the East River. You’ll want to get some diver to retrieve it. Can’t have Hellfire missiles floating around New York Harbor, now can we?”
Kincaid just stared at me, then suddenly scrambled to find his cell phone that I could hear vibrating in his pocket. “Yes?” he answered, his face going sheet white as he listened. “Er..yes Sir…nnno Sir! Okay, Mr. President!”
He reached out with his free hand and turned the laptop toward me. The screen was filled with the very famous image of our current President.
Chapter 36
“Hello Officer Gordon. I think it’s time I played a direct role in these discussions,” he said, after Kincaid upped the volume.
It was surreal to see the President of the United States on an LCD screen and have him addressing me!
I shook it off.
“Mr. President,” I acknowledged guardedly.
“Well, you’ve made some strong points, Officer Gordon. General Creek advised us not to take this tack, but frankly we felt he was overly impressed with your abilities. Now it seems you have proven him correct.”
I nodded, still gathering my thoughts. It was one thing to speak to Barty – the President’s representative. It was altogether different to speak directly to the Man himself, even if I wasn’t a fan of his.
“But as impressive as you’ve shown your resources to be, our commitment was just a tiny fraction of what it could be.”
“Mr. President, your administration has always projected a message of outreach and discourse. Yet, the government’s approach to me has been hostile to say the least, to the point of almost declaring war against the Coven and the supernatural world,” I said.
He frowned, but motioned for me to continue.
“The purpose of this meeting wasn’t to start a fight, but to provide some solid information to replace the crap you’ve been given to date,” I continued, part of me noting that I had just said ‘crap’ to the President.
“The view I’ve been getting from Kincaid here and before him, Agent Duclair, was that the supernatural world was wild and lawless, chaotic and out of control. My message today was meant to reinforce that the supernatural world is organized and follows rules and laws – albeit different laws than our own.
“You seem to have a valid point, Officer Gordon,” he said, frowning in thought. “I’ll admit that nobody mentioned the depth of the economic impact before today. To my knowledge it hadn’t been considered.”
“Sir, the Coven is the oldest government on Earth. Thousands of years of continual service. Darkkin, as vampires prefer to call themselves, are mostly very careful about following rules and avoiding unnecessary killing. Mind you, their nature is completely predatory, but it makes more sense for them to live among and with humans than to be at war with them. It’s a kind of symbiotic relationship. We, humans, although I’m not sure I can include myself anymore, provide food. The Darkkin in turn use their resources to provide jobs and economic stability. Mr. President, did you know that the Coven controls almost all the private blood banks in this country and abroad? That most of the blood that supports our troops in Iraq and Afghanistan comes from their supply? It’s true!”
“I would like to believe what you are telling me, Officer, but the evidence I’ve seen has shown me nothing but murder and horror,” he said, a micro shudder running through him involuntarily.
“Of course, Sir. Vampires are first and foremost predators, and there are always those in any society that break the rules. The Coven punishes those Darkkin, as any murder draws unwanted attention. The punishment is generally death.”
I was careful not to say that all killing was punished because that would have been a lie. Vampires were killers, it was only the kills that drew public attention that would be punished. A homeless person drained and left to look like death by exposure would be frowned on, but not punishable by death.
“So you are warning dire consequences from the Coven if we seek to bring you to justice?” the President said.
“What justice? I killed eight terrorists that were holding 900 people – mostly children, hostage with explosives. Bring that case to trial and watch your poll numbers plummet. But that would never happen would it? No, my so-called trial would occur out of sight with the decision fixed ahead of time,” I said, unable to keep the bitter tone out of my voice. “Actually, Mr. President, I was trying to convey the Coven’s place in things so that you would leave them alone. Mr. Kincaid here was looking for an opportunity to unleash his firepower against my fiancé. That would put you at war with both the Coven and myself.”
“So I get the Coven’ s power, Gordon, and you are a formidable individual to be sure, but you’re only one man,” he said.
“Ahh! Now we get to the heart of my message, Sir. I keep telling you folks, and I would have thought the lobby of the Homeland Defense building would be enough, but apparently not. Mr. President, I’m really never alone.”
“Oh I haven’t forgotten your pet, Officer, but again, it’s just him and you against the U.S.”
I sighed, rubbed the bridge of my nose, while receiving a message from Okwari. I sent him my own thoughts in the form of a request. The response was a grudging acceptance.
“Mr. President, for the last time – he’s not a pet. He’s fully sentient and not really even a bear. Or maybe I should say, he’s way more than a bear. Maybe bear-god would be appropriate,” I said.
“But it’s out of my hands. Mr. President…he tells me you’re in your bunker.”
>It’s called the Presidential Emergency Operations Center –PEOC< Deckert said.
“Mr. President…how’s your heart? I hope you’re in good shape, Sir, because he’s coming to make his point in person!” I said.
The President had time to widen his eyes at my statement, then Okwari was there…in the room with him, off camera.
The next few minutes were chaos, as Secret Service agents fired ineffective rounds, and the President was hustled as far back in the room as possible. I could follow it in my head, the view from Okwari’s eyes better than the one from the camera.
Within a couple of seconds, all the humans were against the far wall and then having made his point, Okwari turned to the bunker’s locked, armored steel door and ripped it from its hinges like wet soggy paper. Then he was gone.
The scene on the laptop was blank, just the President
ial Seal on the wall, behind where the President had been sitting. Voices were jumbled among the confusion, but I could hear the tones of panic edging back to a semblance of calm.
Kincaid looked ready to hurl, his face a sickly green color. General Creek was alarmed, watching me warily, but far from any kind of panic.
“They’re all right, General. Okwari promised me he wouldn’t hurt them, but he insisted on delivering his own message.”
He brushed a hand through the bristly stubble of his crew cut, sighed and spoke: “I tried to tell them. But it’s difficult for people to believe unless they’re there and see it with their own eyes.”
I nodded, but before I could answer, the President resumed his spot in front of the camera, which oddly hadn’t been so much as jostled during the chaos.
“You all right, Mr. President?” I asked.
He had a slightly wild-eyed look going, but I could see him bringing it under control.
“Okay, Officer Gordon. I think your point is made.”
“Sir, not to belabor the point, but it’s really, really important that you understand that was his point!” I said, somewhat urgently.
He held up one hand and nodded. “Yeah, I got it!”
“I’m hoping so, Sir. Because it could have been enormously worse,” I said.
“Forgive me if I fail to see how, Officer,” the President said.
“Sir, he could have just yanked the satellite that’s sitting overhead, counting the hairs in my head, right down on the Capitol building or the White House, or if it wasn’t big enough, he might just use an iron-nickel asteroid.”
His eyes widened and my peripheral vision noted the thoughtful look that came over General Creek’s face.
“So what are your demands?” the President asked, his face reflecting defeat.
“Well, first of all, leave the Coven, especially Tanya alone! That’s vital.”
“Okay, leave the girl friend alone, got it.”
“There is an old man upstate who needs to be left alone as well. He has the same last name as I.”
