A Forced Disappearance: A Lawson Vampire Mission (The Lawson Vampire Series)

by Jon F. Merz

  Would I have done that? No. And neither would anyone as professional as I was. Which was why I knew I was being overly optimistic if I thought they were done with me.

  The other option was they were part of the bad guys. That maybe they’d been sitting on the armory and had seen me take up a surveillance position. I knew the opposition would have had eyes on the armory for some time in order to get to Belladonna. And they would have seen the car she drove in. Me being in it that day would have seemed out of place. Naturally, they’d want to check me out.

  Which was bad, because they potentially knew that Belladonna had someone else helping her.

  As for the lycan armory guard who hadn’t spoken Geralach when he was supposed to…I didn’t know. I hadn’t gotten any sort of lethal vibe from him, but that could have just been part of his disguise. Belladonna didn’t seem to think he was who he said he was. And I didn’t think he was a vampire. So where did that leave him? Was he human? A hybrid?

  I flicked the wipers again as I saw the sign for the Bass Harbor Campground. And immediately to my left was a sign that read Lighthouse Road. I guess that was the way I’d have to go to reach the lighthouse. I turned the wheel and headed left, slowing the car as I did so. No sense speeding down the road when I was trying to find a place to stash the car. I wanted it close enough that I could reach it in a hurry if need be and yet far enough away that it wouldn’t be obvious.

  From looking at the map before I left Belladonna’s house, I knew that if I could get down to the rocks on the water, I could work my way south and then come left to reach the side of the lighthouse on the water. I was opting for that approach because it was a hard route. Nine times out of ten, people are lazy. They’ll take the easiest path to an objective. That’s where the bad guys would position their guards.

  Tonight was cold and rainy and the rocks would be slippery and treacherous. That was where they would least expect a rescue team to enter, so that was exactly where I would come from. Anything that helped put the odds in my column, I was going to employ.

  If I’d had Arthur with me, we could have leap-frogged down the road and hit the lighthouse at the same time, stacking and clearing as we went until we had the hostage back safely.

  Obviously that wasn’t an option. Not with Arthur pulling overwatch on Belladonna when she made the drop. Flying solo meant I had to get creative and put myself through the wringer to reach the lighthouse hopefully unmolested.

  Hopefully being the operative word.

  I saw two small roads, if you could call them that, on my right as I drove. Ahead of me I could see the lighthouse and knew I was getting too close, so I turned down the first road, headed to the end and parked close to a ramshackle building that might once have passed muster as a house, but had since fallen into serious disrepair. The good news was there was a light on inside, which would give me cover if anyone happened to come check. I parked just close enough to the house to make it look like it belonged there.

  Then I got out, checked my weapons, and moved beyond the house to the edge of the cliff overlooking the rocks and water below.

  Time to get wet.

  26

  The rain started to increase, mixing with the ocean spray as I made my way down to the rocks at the water’s edge. Footing was going to be an issue, but I’d be moving slowly anyway so as not to make too much noise. I wasn’t particularly worried, although I needed to keep my hands free at the moment to help ensure my balance. I would have much rather had the M4 up at low-ready in case a bad guy presented himself. I let it fall back under my coat on the sling and kept threading my way through the boulders toward my left, venturing over to where I knew the lighthouse was situated.

  Every two minutes, I could make out the beam of the lighthouse shoot out into the bay and then sweep around. It wasn’t quite as bad as if I was trying to break out of prison, but almost. I was going to have to time my insertion otherwise I was going to be caught in the damned light when I climbed up to the top of the cliff.

  I thought about other beach insertions I’d made in the past. They’re tricky affairs, what with needing to figure out tidal tables, portage over rocks, and the like. Plus, the danger of rogue waves is always present. It doesn’t matter how well you plan an op, if something can go wrong, it will. It’s just the nature of the game. So you plan for that, and then plan some more. Eventually, you realize that you have to go with your best guess as to what will happen and that if something bad jumps out, you’ll just fall back on your training and deal with it.

  My right foot slipped between two algae-covered rocks and I felt my ankle roll slightly. I winced, then felt the sudden dampness of the ocean as it filled my boot. Thankfully, it was just my foot. I’d be moving quicker soon enough and knew that hypothermia wouldn’t be the issue it would be if I’d fallen in and gotten soaked from head to toe. A cold foot was something I could deal with.

  As I made my way to the left, the elevation began to increase. I was moving left, so my left hand side was the cliff itself and the ocean was on my right. The cliff seemed to be getting higher and higher with every step I took. I glanced up and wondered what sort of handholds I was going to find, if any existed at all, in order to make my ascent.

  That was when I was going to be most exposed: when I was clinging for dear life on the side of the cliff. But only to anyone at sea with a pair of binoculars and night vision. I doubted that the bad guys had anyone in a dingy out on a night like this.

  I was also counting on the idea that at least half of them - however many there were - would be heading to Bar Harbor and Agamont Park for the pick up from Belladonna.

  That gave me a small window of time to insert, recon the area, and make the hit. Small, but doable.

  I checked my watch and saw that it was getting close to midnight. If I was the opposition, I’d be leaving soon to reach the drop-off point ahead of my target. You always want time on ground ahead of your opponent so you can suss any irregularities out before they surprise you.

  The problem for these guys was that Arthur had gotten there even earlier than them. And that meant that he was already in position and part of the landscape. They’d acclimate to Arthur already being a part of things and therefore, they’d probably miss noticing him at all.

  I’d come around to the tip of the land that jutted out into the bay. Above me, Bass Harbor Head Lighthouse sat and with it, the hostage I’d come to rescue. The ground that I had to climb in order to reach it looked daunting. I took a deep breath, grateful for the shot of juice I’d had back at Belladonna’s house. I was going to need all of it to make this climb.

  I approached the cliff and studied the surface. The earth and rocks were slick. Wedging myself into the nooks and crannies that would carry me up to the top was going to be extremely hard. And unforgiving. If I made a mistake, I was going to smash my skull on the rocks below. It wouldn’t kill me, but I’d have a serious headache. Plus, if I scarred my face and ruined my good looks, Talya would be pissed.

  I smirked at that thought.

  I reached up and found a good spot for my first hand hold. I made a fist and then reached up with my next hand.

  And touched rope.

  I blinked and checked again. The strong line looked almost two inches thick. Definitely a solid piece of rope, soaked from the ocean but still workable. I gave it a tug and it didn’t move from wherever it was tied to far above. Did it run all the way to the top? I didn’t know, but I had to assume it did. Why else would it be here?

  I took my hand out of the handhold and then wrapped the rope around my leg using a J hook. The rope took all my weight and didn’t seem to give at all.

  Suddenly my ascent was looking a lot easier. I tried to suppress my relief at not needing to climb using handholds, but was careful not to get overly confident.

  Still, the rope was a gift and I wasn’t about to turn it down. I gave it one final tug, reached up and grabbed on. Then I set my feet into the cliff face before me and started climbing, my
coat flapping in the wind behind me as I scaled the cliff up toward the lighthouse.

  27

  By the time I reached the top, I was feeling the exertion in my arms. I’d juiced up, yeah, but scaling a slick cliff face is not easy work even if you’ve just snorted a bag of cocaine. The M4 kept banging into my side as I moved up the cliff and I was worried the sound of the metal of the sling would carry in the night air. Fortunately, I had wind and rain coming down and that would mask most of the noise unless they were right on top of me.

  I could see the top of the cliff now and the rope ended somewhere beyond it. This was where things were going to get hairy. I had no idea what to expect when I crested the cliff. I could be walking right into an ambush if anyone had seen the rope go taut.

  Then again, the weather conspired with me to make it an awful night for anyone to be on sentry duty. I was guessing I’d be able to get over the lip of the cliff and then immediately move toward the lighthouse before I could be seen. I just needed to time my final push at the right moment.

  That meant hanging out waiting for the light to come around again.

  As soon as it passed over my had, I swung up with a final pull and clambered over the top of the cliff. Ordinarily, I would have waited for a moment to get my bearings, but there was no time. I was exposed and needed to get to cover as soon as possible.

  So even as I registered everything I could see, I was already moving toward the base of the lighthouse as quickly as I could. I kept low and as I moved, brought the M4 up from under my coat just in case I encountered a hostile before I reached cover.

  I didn’t.

  I braced my back against the circular white wall of the lighthouse and paused, catching my breath. You can be in the best shape of your life and you will still be out of breath from a quick run across open ground. That’s just part of the effects of going into combat. It’s why elite commandos train as hard as they do; they need to be at a superior level of fitness because when they go into combat, that will help keep them alive and functioning when lesser fit people would simply not be able to handle it and die.

  I checked the M4, making sure I now had the safety off. I knew I had a round chambered in my pistol, with the hammer already back, but on safe. If I had to go to it because of a stoppage with the M4, it would simply be a quick draw, flick the safety down and fire. Little things like that make all the difference between life and death. The last thing you want to be doing is chambering a round and then sighting. It all has to be instantaneous. Otherwise, the bad guy gets the drop on you.

  And that ain’t good.

  The lighthouse beam came around again and I knew I had to move soon. Staying in one place was asking for trouble, plus I needed to figure out how to get inside.

  The rain increased, masking my footfalls. I crept around the base of the tower and then spotted the door leading inside. A quick glance around the corner told me there were no security cameras. But as I prepared to move, my gut spasmed and I knew I had company.

  I shrank back around and got down on my hands and knees, easing around the tower from the other direction. At first, I didn’t see him, but I let my peripheral vision take in the surrounding area and spotted movement. He wasn’t set up in front of the lighthouse door, rather he was across the way, near the tree line.

  I wouldn’t have spotted him at all, but he moved out of rhythm with the wind that made the branches of the trees sway. And now that I knew where he was, I had to figure out how to take him out without alerting any of his friends to my presence.

  The effective range of the M4 was about 350 yards. I knew I could make the shot, but given the rain, it hopefully wouldn’t affect the trajectory too much.

  I checked my sights and then swung out smoothly, bringing the M4 up and already squeezing the trigger. The M4 coughed in the night air, the suppresser masking the sound of the gunshot. Across the way, the sentry dropped.

  And I moved.

  Running across the open ground, I reached the tree line and quickly dragged the sentry back deeper into the woods. I’d shot him through the heart and he was already dead. I frisked him, doing a once over and came away with a phone and a set of keys. The AK-47 he wore slipped off easily and I stowed that underneath his body in a shallow ditch before covering it with boughs from the nearby pine trees.

  I was sweating in spite of the cold air and rain. I surveyed the scene and then moved back to where the sentry had been, using his vantage point to check the area out. Anyone looking at my position would simply assume I was the guard.

  Which is precisely what I wanted them to think.

  The door leading into the lighthouse was dark. I could tell that steps ran up to the top given the windows that arced up alongside the stairs. I had no idea what to expect once I got inside, however.

  Was the door locked? I wouldn’t know until I got over there. I was hoping that the keys I’d taken from the dead sentry would open it.

  It was time to breach this place and find Maxine.

  28

  I sprinted across the open ground for the door and stacked next to it. I reached one hand over and turned the door knob ever so slowly. The last thing I wanted was any noise alerting those inside to my presence. The knob stopped and I put a little pressure on it to see if it would open.

  It didn’t.

  Sighing, I fished the keys out and tried the one I thought would open the door. I halfway expected the door to shatter apart from a shotgun blast as I worked, but nothing happened. I heard the dull thunk of a bolt sliding back into its resting place and knew the lock was now open.

  Pocketing the keys, I brought the M4 up and prepared to make entry. I took several breaths and eased the door open, stepped inside behind the barrel of the M4, and then closed the door behind me. I kept my jaw relaxed so I could hear better, searching for any sounds that would tell me where my opponents were.

  I heard nothing.

  The stairs to my right led up while another door to my left must have gone down, perhaps to a cellar. I had a decision to make: where would I stow a hostage if I were the bad guys?

  There didn’t seem much point to keep her upstairs where the light itself was. Yeah, you could hold the high ground, but only for so long. And if the attacking force wanted to, they could shoot out the windows and make a real mess of things.

  I’d stash a hostage in the cellar.

  I pressed my ear to the door at my left and listened. After a full minute, I concluded that the door probably didn’t open into a room, but perhaps another corridor. I turned the knob and went through with the M4 already up, ready to engage any bad guys.

  What I found was another corridor descending in an arc to the right. I followed and came to steps leading down. I took them slowly, aware that they were wood and could easily creak on me. I kept my feet close to the wall where the chances of squeaks would be less.

  Sweat broke out along my hairline. I breathed and felt the juice I’d had earlier powering me up. The M4 barrel took point and I was sighting down its length as I moved down the steps.

  I heard the voices, thankfully, before I saw who they belonged to.

  They spoke in hushed tones, not aggressively as I’d thought they might. And they were close. I eased down the stairs some more and saw the open doorway leading into the room at the bottom. Now I heard laughter and frowned. They obviously felt pretty secure here. Probably they thought the guy upstairs that I’d taken out would alert them if anything went wrong.

  I wondered where the real owners of the lighthouse were. Had they been killed?

  I heard a crackle of radio static. “Hey, Jonas, you there? What’s going on? Over.”

  I shook my head and felt like saying, “What’s going on is Jonas had a bad run in with a whale shaped like a bullet.”

  Instead, I swung around the door frame and brought the M4 up, finger on the trigger ready to fire.

  Two men sat at a table in a small kitchen area. Both of them looked up in surprise as I made my appearance. One of t
hem started to go for the pistol on the table, so I squeezed the trigger and punched a hole into his chest. I still didn’t know if these guys were lycans or not, so better safe than sorry.

  He toppled back off the chair and writhed on the floor for a moment before dying. I kept the M4 trained on the other guy. “You going to be stupid too?”

  “No, man. No.” He held up his hands. I frowned. He looked like one of the dudes from the bar the other day. I stepped closer and checked over the guy I’d killed. Yup. Frick was dead. I kept an eye on Frack and nodded.

  “Who the hell are you guys?”

  “Who are you?”

  I smiled. “Usually what happens is the guy with the gun asks all the questions.”

  Frack shrugged. “Fair enough. We’re the guys who are going to start a revolution.”

  “Yeah? What kind of revolution?”

  “Overthrow the old guard and install the new. We’re tried of living in the shadows. We want to come out and be who we really are.”

  “Which is?”

  Frack morphed then. “Lycans, of course. Children of the moon.” Fur sprouted all over his body. I’d seen lycans morph into their moon selves in the past, but it was always a bizarre scene. Frack was a lot more muscled than he was in human form. I kept the M4 trained on him.

  “Don’t think about it. I’m much faster on the trigger than you are covering the distance between us.”

  Frack smiled around a mouth full of very long and sharp teeth. “I’ll bet you’d taste terrific human.”

  I sniffed. “Yeah, well, you’re wrong there. Where’d you stow the girl?”

  Frack morphed back into his human form and nodded at the floor. “Downstairs in the cellar.”

  “How’d you guys find me the other day?”

  Frack chuckled. “You used the truck the old bitch drives. It didn’t take any sort of brilliant detective work on our part to figure it out. We thought a talk with you was in order.”