Chapter 9
Marcus was in no mood to make any changes to his computer files. Normally, he would be modifying the various contingency plans he created for attacking vampires such as Lin Tang and Louis Riordan. Now, he felt so disgusted at the recent turn of events he couldn’t even turn on the computer. He just sat in his room, brooding in the dark.
“Penique pues tus pensamientos, amigo.”
Marcus looked up to see Angelica standing in the doorway. Smiling weakly, he motioned for her to come in. She found her way to one of his spare office chairs and plopped herself into it.
“Penny for my thoughts, eh?” he mused. “Well, I think you’ll need a boatload of pennies. This is absolutely the wrong decision. We shouldn’t run.”
“Jesus had his reasons, Marcus,” Angelica shot back. “He’s got to worry about the entire operation. We weren’t looking so good trying to take down Riordan – but, now, add another fifteen clan masters in town, most likely with their most trusted lieutenants and security staff. Our task is virtually impossible. We’d be vastly outnumbered by them alone.”
Angelica had a point, but Marcus had not survived as a mercenary by running from fights. The whole nature of his profession was to take on superior enemy forces. Mercs countered such enemies by using extensive experience and superior tactics. More than once, a platoon of highly-trained mercenaries, together with one or two helicopters, had routed entire Third World armies.
Marcus had never run from a fight. Once, when he and two others had found themselves surrounded by Robert Mugabe’s Zimbabwean army, outnumbered one hundred to one, he had fought on. After killing sixty Zimbabweans, he and the others had escaped the trap, having put fear into their lesser-trained foes. His reputation had soared after that, and, to this day, he still had a high price on his head from Mugabe’s ilk. Of course, he’d always joked, the price was in Zimbabwean currency, which wasn’t worth enough to cover the bullets necessary to kill him.
“So, we wait for the clan masters to leave, is that it?” he asked. “What do you think?”
“You don’t want to know what I think, Marcus.”
“Yes, Angelica, I do,” he said.
Angelica took a deep breath and thought about her words. This wasn’t one of her bodybuilding contests. It wasn’t even one of her bodyguard assignments. It was a virtual life-or-death decision.
“I think Jesus and Dolores are right,” she finally said. “There will be other fights against Riordan. He’s not going to pack up and leave Fort Worth to the clan masters. I say we wait until this little get-together is over and then come back.”
Marcus was disappointed. He really thought he knew Angelica. He could never imagine her backing down from any fight. He got up and moved to the back of the room so she wouldn’t see the look on his face.
“Oh, my God, Marcus,” she exclaimed. “Don’t tell me you want us to try to take on that many clan masters? I can see it with Cantrell, but you?”
Marcus moved over to a desk. Callously, he began tossing odds and ends into a small box. Behind him, Angelica folded her arms and fussed.
“You can’t make me go away with that distraction, Marcus,” she snorted. “You’re a mercenary. You live very Spartan. A few minutes from now, you’ll be packed and have nothing else to do but talk to me.”
Marcus sighed and turned.
“Okay, hear me out on this,” Angelica said, pushing herself to her feet. “Be the rational mercenary I’ve grown to care about. You said that, on paper, we should be as organized as the clans. And then you emphasized on paper. In reality, we’re paper tigers. You know Jesus and Dolores recruited most of us over the past three years. We don’t have the cohesion to take on such a large task. Maybe, at one time, we did, but not now and you know perfectly well why.”
Marcus did know. It was the untimely deaths of sixty members of the now-defunct Moonrise, Inc. in a cataclysmic explosion in California three years earlier. The effects of that disaster were still being felt.
The mercenary knew just one and possibly two percent of the world’s population was actively aware that vampires existed. Discounting victims, most of those in the know were familiars or corrupt people on the take from vampires. The rest were hunters, outnumbered ten to one, sometimes worse depending on the geography.
By nature, hunters tended to be loners, pariahs in a civilized world. They rarely came together, but when they did, it was often for some huge mission. So, losing sixty in one event was devastating. A huge chunk of the most experienced hunters were suddenly gone.
From what Marcus had learned of the Hunters, at one time, the group had almost thirty-five members, second in size only to Moonrise. After the latter’s demise, all but one person – Manuel Acevedo – left the group. Some got cold feet. Others figured it was safer to hunt alone or in pairs, so that any losses would be smaller.
“I wish Ryker would hurry up and get back,” Marcus blurted, shifting to find a more comfortable stance.
“If that’s your ace in the hole, amigo, we definitely have to get out of town,” Angelica retorted. “Ryker will never convince Jesus to stay, if only because of the bad precedent it would set by having Jesus agree with Cantrell on anything.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Marcus said, with a heavy sigh. “It just galls me to run like this. I didn’t run from Gaddafi or Mugabe or Gbagbo or the Junta in Myanmar. But, I have to run from a scumbag like Riordan.”
“Look on the bright side,” Angelica said, as she got to her feet and moved toward the doorway. “It will take the rest of us a few days to get packed and moving. Who knows what might happen in that time?”
Michael Lee couldn’t type anymore than Marcus could design another tactical plan at that moment. Now that the mission was being abandoned, he had the staggering task of packing up the compound’s computers for storage. That meant sanitizing them of sensitive information, like personnel identification, with special computer programs.
What bothered him is that he normally sanitized the computers when the group either finished a successful operation or moved onto another one. Doing so now, only reminded him that they were running away from a mission.
He walked into the underground compound’s surveillance control room. He knew he could not sanitize these computers because of the security issue. He was just here to talk.
“You can’t be starting here with the sanitizing?” Garvey asked, looking up in surprise at Lee’s entrance.
Jessie, who had been leaning back in her chair playing solitaire on one of the room’s computers, glanced at Michael and then returned to her game.
“He’s not, bumpkin,” she replied, with a yawn.
“Just came here to talk,” Lee said, grabbing the only empty chair. “Everybody else is busy. Jesus and Dolores. Kelly is helping Heidi, and Marcus and Angelica are having a long discussion.”
Jessie suddenly sat up.
“Where’s Ian?” she asked. “With Dr. Patel or Elvis?”
“Naw,” Lee answered. “Elvis is trying to convince the doc to pack up. I think Ian is bailing.”
“Shit,” Jessie spat.
She jumped to her feet, rudely pushed past Lee’s chair and stormed out of the room. Lee stared after her and gave Garvey a questioning look. The former Marine just shrugged.
“Don’t ask,” Garvey said, simply. “Now, what do you want to talk about?”
“But, you can’t stay here, Patel.”
Patel let his shoulders sag as he took a deep breath. He’d been listening to Wesley’s reasons for packing up and leaving ever since Dolores and Jesus had made the decision. He sought what he thought would be the peaceful security of his lab, but Wesley had invaded the sanctity of it anyway.
“Surely, you realize the breakthrough we have just made,” he said. “The serum has been proven to work. It now needs to be tweaked so that it can serve as a vaccination for all of us. If we pack up and move now, that momentum is lost. Jostling the equipment might throw off the calibration and aff
ect the results. No, I simply cannot move now. Please impart that information to Jesus.”
Wesley leaned back against a bench and scrunched his eyebrows. He wondered if the dull ache in his head was the beginning of a migraine. He’d never met so many stubborn people in one organization as this one – and he’d been a Marine drill instructor.
“Okay, Doc,” he conceded. “Let me see what I can come up with. I still have a few connections in town. Maybe not as many as Marcus or Angelica but I might know someone at PJS who can help.”
At that, Patel’s ears perked up. Turning from his microscope, he looked at the former Marine with newfound interest. Peter Jaysmith was the main public hospital in Tarrant County and one of the top medical facilities in not just Texas, but the entire Southwest. It was also famous as both a teaching hospital and a research facility for the area’s college medical programs.
“Well, Staff Sergeant, I might actually be persuaded to begin packing,” he said, with a smile.
“Finally, a ray of sunshine in an otherwise dreary day,” Wesley quipped as he stood tall.
“By the way, has anyone informed Cantrell?” Patel asked.
“Thanks for raining on my parade, Doc,” Wesley groaned.
“I’m confused.”
“Join the club,” Kelly said, as she flicked a stray tress of black hair out of her eyes.
She and Heidi had retreated to the compound’s cafeteria, which actually consisted of a few tables and chairs, two microwave ovens and a small refrigerator. Kelly had very few items to pack and Heidi, of course, had none.
“Let’s see,” Heidi said, holding up fingers to count. “In the course of a few days, I’ve been on the worst blind date ever, gotten attacked by a vampire, watched Ryker cut a guy’s head off, became a vampire, got cured by a mad scientist, got recruited into a secret society, and, just when I was finally pumped enough to start kicking vampire ass, found out my new leaders are wimps.”
Kelly sympathized with Heidi Nguyen. She had signed on with the group in hopes of taking down Lin Tang. Now, it seemed that chance would pass. Oh, sure, she knew Jesus and Dolores had promised to return once the clan masters left, but Kelly wasn’t stupid. Something big had to be occurring for so many clan leaders in one spot. She doubted things would go back to the way they had been; certainly not enough for the Hunters to slip back into town and set up shop with nary a notice from the powers-that-be.
“Not wimps,” Kelly retorted, though she didn’t sound sure of her own words. “Over-reactive maybe, but not wimps. You don’t know the hell they’ve been through or the hell they’ve dished out. If anything, with most of us having joined piecemeal over the past couple of years, they might have felt we didn’t have the organization to take on such a big threat.”
Heidi sighed. Maybe she was overreacting herself, but, at least, she had a good excuse. She’d had not one but two life-altering moments in the past couple of days. She was angry, first at herself but, mostly, at a scourge she had no idea existed a few days ago. She needed something to vent her rage on and now she was being asked to put that rage on hold for God only knew how long.
“Look at it like this, Heidi,” Kelly said, placing a hand gently on one of her new friend’s shoulders. “We’ll have more time to see those fantastic moves you keep telling us about. Akira jitsu.”
“That’s aki-jitsu,” Heidi corrected.
She smiled weakly, gave in and started laughing.
Jesus knew he’d find his wife here. She did not turn at the sound of his footsteps, as he approached the holding chamber that had once caged Heidi Nguyen. Even when he put his arms around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring kiss on the left cheek, she did not respond. Taking the hint, he stepped back and gave her some space.
“I thought we both agreed that it was necessary?” he asked, looking frustrated.
“We were on top of the world, weren’t we?” Dolores murmured. “We cured Heidi and it looked like we finally found an edge in our long war. Now, it all might have been for nothing.”
“It’s just for a short time,” Jesus said.
“Don’t lie to me,” Dolores shot back, turning to look at him with tear-stained cheeks. “I know you – you’ve never run before. And make no mistake, Jesus, we are running. Not laying low for a few days, but running away.”
“He who fights and runs away…” Jesus wisely let the idiom peter off.
Throwing up his hands in frustration, he began pacing back and forth. It was true that he was in a very unfamiliar position. For ten years, he and Dolores had fought the good fight. They had always taken that fight to the enemy and refused to let the enemy intimidate them.
Except now.
“Why is now any different?” Dolores asked, as if she’d read her husband’s mind.
“Well, you have to admit the sixteen clan masters have a lot to do with it,” Jesus replied, trying to remain cool and collected. “Surely, you can’t expect us to take on that many masters. We need more training. Marcus and Elvis are working on it, but we need a lot more time.”
Dolores turned away.
“We knew that when we started this whole thing,” she said, slowly. “It’s why I pressed you to allow Cantrell in. We knew Riordan was up to something big, just not this big. We agreed he had to be taken down but the whole operation has been a foul-up from the start. What the hell were we thinking?”
Jesus held his tongue. What could he say, really? He had been as gung-ho as his wife putting this operation in motion. Riordan had to be stopped before he realized whatever plan he was working on. Only, Jesus had thought their foe was trying to expand his territory to include most of Texas. He certainly could not have contemplated the man bringing in fifteen clan masters.
Dolores was right in one respect. The whole mission was a cluster. He had been assembling the team little by little, bringing them along slowly with limited missions in outlying areas against relatively weak master vampires. He had hoped to cultivate a fighting force that was close to, if not as good as, the group he’d led before things went to hell in a hand basket after Moonrise Inc.’s horrific demise.
Now, he realized he fooled himself and the others as well. He’d unnecessarily risked all their lives. Simply put, while each of them was very good in his or her respective field, as a team, they were simply out of the league of Lin Tang, much less the clan masters. Assassinating Duke was bold, and it had been a coordinated effort that had left no trail to his group, while baffling Lin Tang. But, it was just one success.
“All the more reason to pull back and regroup,” he blurted out. “At the very least, we can lie low until Lin Tang cools down. We can go someplace far from here and train. I mean really, really train. Make ourselves a force to be reckoned with, not one going against impossible odds, hoping to get lucky and take Lin Tang.”
Dolores said nothing and Jesus knew why. It wasn’t the money they had wasted setting up the compound or the valuable time lost. It was the notion that the vampires were going to win again. Even Jesus couldn’t guess what those clan masters were planning with Riordan. He couldn’t tell how bad things might be after the Hunters left or if they’d even be able to return once they did get their act together.
Worst of all, for Jesus, he had blown a golden opportunity. It was rare for a large group of hunters to set up shop in any clan-controlled territory without drawing notice. A man like Riordan had an army of familiars, along with crooked cops and politicians, spying for him. And Lin Tang’s half-deads only made matters worse, for they often prowled night clubs, strip clubs and bars looking for recruits. Meaning the main places that the Hunters counted on for inside information were compromised.
Suddenly, Dolores turned, walked quickly over to her husband and threw her arms around him. She buried her head on his shoulder and let her tears flow unhindered. Jesus said nothing, but just held her tight.
“It’ll be okay, baby,” he cooed. “We’ll make it through this like we always have.”
“Promise
?” she sniffled between sobs.
“I promise,” Jesus replied, though he wondered how he’d ever be able to keep it.
“Things have definitely taken a turn for the surreal,” Ian Hendricks said to himself, as he walked toward the staircase that would lead up to Manuel’s garage.
He really didn’t know what to say about Jesus’ decision to pack up and leave. One part of him said it was a wise decision as this group was no match for Riordan. The other part of him was angry because he’d been risking his life as a double agent, so to speak, and the thought all of that effort had been for naught was enough to make him burn up inside. True, he was being paid well for his services and he didn’t like losing clients – especially ones that paid – but this was an entirely different game.
He still had Aurelia Hernandez to contend with. She was growing desperate for answers about Duke’s assassination and he was wondering if Lin Tang would let that particular matter die down if she did not get immediate results herself. It was unlikely, meaning that the Hunters might have to make a fighting retreat.
Anyway he looked at it, he was screwed. He’d either lose a well-paying client or he’d lose a well-paying, beautiful, corrupt detective who paid even better.
It was times like these, Ian wondered how he’d gotten into this game in the first place. Certainly losing his ex-fiancee and her entire family to vampires had something to do with it. But, there had to be more since he was, technically, working for the enemy. Money was a big part (he’d always loved his trucks and expensive clothes) but that couldn’t explain it all. Big trucks and fine clothes meant nothing if he was dead. And he would be dead if anyone on Riordan’s payroll ever found out about his double-dealing.
“Ian, wait up!”
Ian groaned. He knew that voice. Yet another reason why he wondered why he’d stuck by these hunters. Jessie was a beautiful girl, no doubt about it, but she was too high-strung and stubborn, with not much of a backbone to back up her bravado. She was still just a child and it had been a big mistake to date her.
He stopped under a light and waited for Jessie to catch up. She was out of breath, yet another sign that she needed a lot more training if she was going to be an effective hunter. He waited for her to get her wits about her.
“Don’t tell me you’re leaving,” she said, at last.
“I’ll be around to help out,” he replied. “When I can.”
“Humph,” she snorted, crossing her arms and scowling. “Where have I heard that before?”
“Look, Jessie, I never meant to hurt you or lead you on,” Ian said, after rolling his eyes. “God, I sound like a soap opera.”
“Well, you wrote the script,” Jessie shot back. “I guess I was just another notch on that gun belt, right?”
“Jessie, I like you. Really, I do. It’s just that…”
“That you’re getting better stuff from Aurelia Hernandez,” Jessie assumed. “Sleeping with a snake, you’re liable to get bit, Ian.”
“It’s not like that,” Ian retorted.
“Yes, it is, Ian,” Jessie snapped. “I’m not a little girl anymore. Haven’t been for years. I know how it goes. Take care of yourself. You’ve always been good at that, since you are the only person you really care about.”
Jessie stormed off before Ian could react. He watched her walk away and threw up his hands in disgust. He spun around, cursing under his breath, and continued up to the garage.
Ryker scanned the area with his night-vision goggles. No heat signatures, human, animal or vampire, disturbed the dense undergrowth running along Jacksboro Highway. Ryker put the goggles back into his backpack. He checked his pistol once more and then slid it into the shoulder holster under his jacket.
He was careful – for recklessness in this game meant death or worse. In this regard, he had learned well from some of the best at Moonrise, not to mention Marcus Van Niekerk and his fellow mercenaries. Though he was the only member of the Hunters who had not been personally affected by vampires before joining the war against Hominus Nocturna, he made himself a target almost from the start of his new profession.
He looked down the hill at the garage. The lights were on, always a good sign as Manuel was a stickler for conserving energy when his business was not in use. He checked his watch again, for the umpteenth time and cursed mildly. What was taking so long?
Finally, his earpiece beeped twice. It was the signal from Horace Garvey in the control room that Ryker could come in safely. The woods around the compound were bugged with miniatures cameras and sensors courtesy of Marcus’s “don’t-ask” connections. Ryker had to wait for the all-clear signal as his identity was confirmed.
He slung his backpack over his right shoulder and pushed his way out of the trees. Making his way down a barely seen, but well-trodden path, he was at the front doors of the garage in no time. He went in through the left door, which was open, and saw Ian Hendricks’ truck. A moment later, he saw Ian.
“Hey, amigo, what’s up?” he called out to Manuel, who was shutting the hood of the pickup truck. “Ian, where are you going?”
“Got things to do, no time to stick around and chat,” Ian said, rather coldly, opening his truck door and climbing in.
“Say, you told your people not to throw my name around town, didn’t you?” Ryker asked. “Tell them to build their reputations without me. I don’t need the free publicity. I’m supposed to be dead, remember?”
“God, you are such a dick, Cantrell,” Ian snapped.
“Wow, that was original,” Ryker mocked. “Where are Jesus and the others? Already down below? Aren’t they meeting to discuss the next move?”
Ryker was perplexed. He thought Ian Hendricks was full of crap when he claimed to be a big man around town, so he wondered why he was leaving now. The private detective was a key part of the group, their eyes and ears in the outside world. He had to be in on the decision on what to do with the information Ryker had given.
“We already met,” Ian said, leaning his head out of his now-open driver’s side window. “Start packing.”
“What?” Ryker asked, now even more confused. “What do you mean start packing?”
Ian started the truck engine and Ryker suddenly couldn’t hear anything. While he waved away the exhaust fumes, he watched Ian shoot out of the garage, veer left to reverse direction and head for the closed front gate. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Manuel reaching over to push a button on the wall next to the office door. The gate opened and, soon, Ian was out of sight and both the front gate and the garage door were closing.
“Yeah, nice talking to you, too,” Ryker snorted. “Tell your sister thanks for last night, you stupid inbred redneck.”
Manuel frowned at the insensitive remark.
“What did he mean by start packing?” Ryker asked, turning to look at the mechanic, who suddenly had a guilty look on his face.
“It was Dolores’ and Jesus’ decision,” the mechanic said, avoiding Ryker’s stern gaze. “We’re pulling out. As soon as we can pack up and shut this place down.”
Ryker was flabbergasted. For once, he was absolutely speechless. Maybe he’d heard it wrong. He always did have trouble catching Manuel’s mangled English.
“Pulling out?” he asked, incredulous. “You mean, like pulling up stakes and scattering into the wind?”
“Don’t shoot the messenger, amigo,” Manuel retorted. “But, si, that is what Jesus said. We are going to lie low, at least until all those clan masters leave town.”
Ryker was beside himself.
“What the hell?” he scowled. “We’ve got them right where we want them. Where the hell is Jesus? Maybe I can talk some sense into him.”
“I think we both know how that’s going to end, amigo,” Manuel said.
Ryker knew and it pissed him off to no end. But, what else could he expect from people who played at war and tilted at windmills? What a bunch of gutless bastards, he thought.
“Son of a bitch!” he screamed at the top
of his lungs.
He took off his backpack and chucked it across the garage. He didn’t care if he smashed the expensive goggles within. He kicked out and toppled a stack of oil bottles, much to the chagrin of Manuel who, nevertheless, declined not to act for fear of being Ryker’s next target.
“Are we finished with our little temper tantrum?”
Ryker spun around, seeing Angelica and Marcus standing in the doorway of the office. He wasn’t surprised. He knew a warning was always sent out whenever he arrived at the garage. He rubbed people the wrong way, but screw it. He hadn't survived this long by pussyfooting around or sugarcoating anything.
“Did you agree with this decision, Marcus?” he asked, accusingly. "I know you did, Angelica, because that's just how you are."
Angelica reddened in anger. "What did you say to me? Listen, vendejo, I seconded the motion to bring you in. Now, you have the nerve to fu–"
“Please, Angelica," Marcus cut in, raising his hand in front of her face. "Don't stoop to his level. And, for your information, Cantrell, I did not agree. But I will abide by the decision.”
“In the interest of team unity and esprit de corps,” Angelica added. “Something you should try for a change, Cantrell.”
Ryker frowned.
“Come on, Marcus,” he cajoled. “You, of all people, should be on my side. Or least, able to see things from my viewpoint. We might never get another chance like this. Sixteen – count ‘em, sixteen clan masters in one place. We can't let a golden opportunity like this slip away.”
“Doesn’t matter, my friend,” Marcus shot back. “The decision has been made and we will all abide by it. Cantrell, we asked you into this group because we needed you. We need your expertise, but we need to know if you can stick with us, even when things don't go your way. Can we count on you?”
Ryker said nothing. He turned away and walked up to one of the windows on the garage door. Looking out through the dirty glass, he saw the traffic on Jacksboro Highway whizzing by. All those innocent people, he thought.
He abruptly moved to his right, aiming for a red button on the wall that would make the door lift.
"I can't let you do that, Cantrell," Marcus blurted.
"Oh, so I don't like a decision – I'm an ungrateful jackass," Ryker sniped, without turning to look back. "But, if you don't like a decision, it's okay? You know what, Marcus? I'd tell you to fuck yourself, but you've got Angelica for that."
"Why, you ungrateful piece of crap," Angelica snapped.
"Now, now, Angelica, I'm sure that's just the steroids talking," Ryker said, mockingly, as he went back to trying to open the garage door. "You guys can keep my stuff. I'd rather leave it than spend another minute with a bunch of cowards."
"That is enough!"
Marcus' words boomed throughout the garage. Ryker stopped reaching for the red button, instead, let his hand drop. He was no fool and his hearing was still as good as ever. He mentally sifted out Marcus' booming voice and keyed on a sound so slight anyone without his experience would easily have missed it.
"You'd better pull that freakin' trigger now, Marcus," Ryker snorted, after taking a deep breath. "If it's come to that, this group is completely finished."
No sound came. Turning around slowly, Ryker saw Marcus pointing a large ominous black revolver right at his head. He recognized it as a .454 Casull, normally a hunting pistol. The bullet wouldn't even leave enough of his head for identification.
"Always the mercenary, eh, Marcus?" Ryker said rather calmly. "Nothing or nobody interferes with the mission. Not even a colleague. I guess the vampires win. Again."
Next to Marcus, Angelica was freaking out, unsure of what to say or do. Behind Marcus, Manuel had the phone receiver in hand, no doubt calling everybody up to the garage. Soon, a half dozen, or so, guns might be pointed at heads in this Mexican standoff.
If that were to be the case, he wouldn't go down alone. When he'd turned, he'd snuck his right hand up inside his jacket and onto the Czech Skorpion submachine pistol in his other shoulder holster. He'd already decided that his regular nine-millimeter Browning was too small to compete with a .454. He pointed the Skorpion right at Marcus, knowing if he fired, the spray pattern would undoubtedly take out Angelica and Manuel as well.
For what seemed like an eternity, but was actually just a minute, the two men stood opposite one another, perhaps seconds away from tragedy. Neither was willing to so much as blink. Next to Marcus, Angelica was frozen with fear. Nothing in her days as a bodyguard ever prepped her for such a situation.
"You bloody, conceited, arrogant bastard," Marcus finally said, after a bead of sweat rolled off his forehead and into his eyes. "I will not let you jeopardize this mission, put the gun down – right fucking now!"
"Make me!"
A different sound suddenly entered the garage and Angelica stepped forward, even as a look of utter fear spread across her face.
"No, don't!"
A loud boom echoed through the garage and out into the once silent night.
They Call the Wind Muryah Page 18
