Battle Lines

by Will Hill

  I thought about the risk, about whether I might be endangering myself by writing it. I thought about the men and women who might read it, and whether they’re better off in the dark. I thought about the government and the security of the country, although I understand if you don’t believe me. I thought about it all, and I arrived at the most unshakeable conclusion of my life.

  It’s worth the risk. It’s too important.

  Right now, I’m not going to explain anything more than I have in the title of this post. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, be grateful, carry on with your day, and don’t give this a second thought. But if you do . . .

  If you do, I want to hear from you. I want your stories. I want to know how many of you are out there.

  Proxy up and post your stories in the comments below. I guarantee your anonymity. No one else needs to put their head above the parapet, at least not yet. If I get the response I’m expecting, if people are brave enough to talk about the things they’ve seen, I think we’ll see this start to move fast. But let’s wait and see.

  Red eyes. Black uniforms.

  Tell me. I believe you.

  Kevin McKenna

  39

  PRIME SUSPECT

  Valentin Rusmanov’s appearance at the ISAT compound caused exactly the reaction among the men and women of the Intelligence Division that the ancient vampire lived for.

  He walked through the open-plan desks of the division as though he was taking a casual morning stroll, despite the Security Division operators flanking him with their T-Bones drawn. Valentin was a superstar, one of the oldest vampires in the world, turned by Dracula himself, and opportunities to see him up close did not come along very often.

  He was as immaculate as ever, the result of the attentive skills of Lamberton, his valet. His pale, handsome face was smooth, his charcoal suit crisp over a bright white shirt, his shoes gleaming like mirrors. Every single member of the Intelligence Division stopped what they were doing when he entered and stared openly at him. Valentin smiled back expansively, nodding at the operators whose desks he passed closest by. He loved few things in the world more than attention, and the rapt expressions on the faces of the men and women sitting at their small gray workstations were an utter joy.

  Kate Randall was waiting for him outside the security door that controlled access to ISAT. She watched him make his way toward her, disgusted by the reactions of her colleagues.

  He’s a rock star, she thought. Despite all the thousands of people he’s killed. They’re like starstruck kids.

  Valentin picked his way through the last of the desks and favored her with a wide, dizzying smile. “Miss Randall,” he said, extending his hand. “What a pleasure it is to see you again. I trust you’re well?”

  Kate shook the offered hand briefly. “I’m very well, thank you, Mr. Rusmanov. If you’d like to follow me, we’ll get this over with as quickly as possible.”

  “How professional you are,” said Valentin, his smile widening even further. “Even though one of your colleagues tried to kill you yesterday. Bravo, Miss Randall. Bravo.”

  Don’t rise to him, she told herself. Don’t give him what he wants.

  “As I said, Mr. Rusmanov,” she replied, forcing a narrow smile, “if you’d like to follow me.” She typed a code into the panel beside the door, which unlocked with a series of clicks and thuds. She pulled it open, and Valentin stepped through, followed closely by his guards.

  Kate closed her eyes and took a deep breath, steadying herself in preparation for what she had to do. When she opened them, she saw the silent ranks of the Intelligence Division staring at her.

  “Haven’t you got any work to do?” she snapped, then walked into ISAT, pulling the shut door behind her.

  * * *

  Kate showed Valentin and his escorts into the interview room and left the technicians wiring him into the chair. The vampire appeared to be taking it all in good humor, viewing the whole thing as little more than an amusing diversion, but she wasn’t quite convinced. She believed that, deep down, Valentin had to be finding this demeaning, or at the very least annoying.

  I hope so, she thought. I hope it’s really pissing him off.

  She pushed open the door to the lounge and nodded to Paul Turner. The security officer was sitting on the sofa, reading Valentin Rusmanov’s file. The document had been compiled from the interrogation that had been conducted when the vampire first defected to Blacklight and was almost as thick as a phone directory.

  “Two minutes,” said Kate.

  Turner closed the file and smiled at her. “Good,” he said. “You don’t mind me taking this one, right? I think it’s for the best.”

  “It’s fine,” said Kate. “How deep are you going to go?”

  “We’ve covered everything useful that he’s prepared to tell us,” said Turner, tapping the cover of the file. “Double-checking it all would take about a week. There are a couple of things I want to ask him again now that he’s hooked up, but mostly it’s about yesterday.”

  “Do you think he did it?” asked Kate.

  “No,” said Turner. “I don’t. Do you?”

  Kate shook her head. “Part of me hopes that he did,” she said. “It would be a lot easier for everyone if his defection was a lie and he was still working for Dracula. But I don’t believe that’s the case.”

  “Me neither,” said Turner. “If he was still working for Dracula, I don’t believe that he would waste his time targeting you and me. But a lot of operators do—for now, at least. So we need to get this done and get on with our job. Someone out there is hiding something, and we need to find out who.”

  Before they attack someone else, thought Kate, and shivered.

  “All right,” she said. “Let’s get on with it.”

  “Before we go in there,” said Turner, standing up, “I want you to promise me something.”

  “What?”

  “That you won’t let him get inside your head,” said Turner. “Whatever he says, whatever he asks you. Don’t give him what he wants.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Kate, with a tight smile. “I won’t.”

  * * *

  Valentin was sitting in the chair as they entered the interview room, one foot resting casually on his other knee. His escorts stood on either side of him, their T-Bones raised.

  “Major Turner,” said the vampire, smiling broadly, “I honestly believe that, with the exception of Lamberton, I have conversed more with you than I have with anyone else in the last century or so. Surely there can’t be anything else you wish to ask me? My sexual proclivities, perhaps? The regularity of my bowels?”

  “Mr. Rusmanov,” said Turner. “Thank you for coming.”

  “You’re most welcome,” replied Valentin. “Although your thanks imply that I had some kind of choice in the matter. If so, it wasn’t made clear to me.”

  “We both know full well that if you had refused to leave your cell, there would have been very little we could have done to compel you,” said Turner. “I was being polite. I can stop, if you would prefer?”

  Valentin grinned. “Politeness is a rare commodity in this day and age, Major Turner, and I respect you enormously for keeping tradition alive.”

  “Thank you,” replied the security officer. He took one of the seats at the desk as Kate slipped into the other. She looked down at the screen set into its surface and saw the system was live.

  “This is ISAT interview 072,” said Turner, his voice flat and even, “conducted by Major Paul Turner, NS303, 36-A, in the presence of Lieutenant Kate Randall, NS303, 78-J. State your name, please.”

  “Is this it?” asked Valentin. “Are we officially under way?”

  “We are,” replied Turner. “State your name, please.”

  “Valentin Rusmanov.”

  Green.

 
“Please answer the following question incorrectly,” said Turner. “State your gender, please.”

  “Female,” replied Valentin.

  Red.

  Kate took a deep breath.

  Let’s go, she thought. Let’s do this.

  “Mr. Rusmanov,” said Turner, “yesterday afternoon explosive devices were planted inside two rooms in this facility, with the clear intention of causing harm to members of this Department. Did you plant the devices in question?”

  “Do you actually think I did?” asked Valentin, frowning. “Would you think so little of me, Major Turner? After all the time we have spent together?”

  “Answer the question, please. Did you plant the devices?”

  “Of course not.”

  Green.

  “Do you know who did?”

  “No.”

  Green.

  “Do you have any information that could be relevant to identifying the perpetrator of this attack?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  Green.

  Kate breathed out heavily. The results were exactly what she had expected, but it had still been a relief to see the green lights on the screens—there had been an elephant in the room since the Zero Hour Task Force meeting the previous day.

  If it had been him, what the hell were we supposed to have done about it?

  “Thank you, Mr. Rusmanov,” said Turner. “Now. I want to ask you about—”

  “You didn’t think I did it, did you?” asked Valentin, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankle.

  “Mr. Rusmanov, I am not—”

  “I’m sure many of your colleagues think I did,” continued Valentin. “For no other reason than it’s the obvious conclusion, and the majority of them are not terribly bright. So I understand why I was summoned to answer your questions, but I must confess I’m now somewhat intrigued as to why you had already concluded I was innocent. Would you indulge me? For politeness’s sake, if nothing else?”

  “Mr. Rusmanov,” said Paul Turner. “We are not here to satisfy your curiosity. We’re here to—”

  “Excuse me, Major Turner,” interrupted Valentin. “But I’m afraid I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to Miss Randall.”

  Kate frowned. “Me?” she asked. “Why would you care what I think?”

  “Because I know why Major Turner didn’t believe I was the culprit,” said Valentin. “He is a man of evidence, of probability, and I have no doubt he concluded that I was innocent by applying sound, no doubt deeply boring, logic. You, on the other hand, have not yet had the life drummed out of you by this drab, gray place. So you interest me, just as your colleague bores me to tears.”

  “It might be wise for you to remember that you are a guest in this facility,” said Turner, his voice low. “And that I do not have infinite patience.”

  “Then destroy me, by all means,” said Valentin, spreading his arms wide and pushing his chest forward. “Then go and explain to dear old Mr. Holmwood that you did it because the nasty vampire was rude to you. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

  Turner didn’t reply, but a narrow smile emerged on his face, and his gaze didn’t leave Valentin’s.

  If the time ever comes when we don’t need him any more, thought Kate, Valentin will regret some of the things he’s said. Paul isn’t going to forget them, I know that much.

  “It didn’t seem like something you would do,” she said. “That’s why I didn’t think you did it.”

  “Explain,” said Valentin.

  “I thought exactly the same thing Major Turner did. If you were here on false pretenses, if you were still working for Dracula, I thought you would have probably done something a lot worse than planting two bombs. And . . .”

  “Go on,” said Valentin, his smile wide and unsettling. “Please.”

  “It didn’t seem like your style,” said Kate. “Booby traps and homemade bombs. I suppose I felt you would consider that sort of thing beneath you.”

  Valentin’s smile broadened into a grin. “Very good, Miss Randall,” he said. “Very good indeed. You are quite the insightful little thing, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know,” said Kate. “I’ve never thought about it.”

  “Oh, but of course you have,” said Valentin. “Everyone constantly thinks about themselves. We think about what we’re good at, and what we’re bad at, and we compare ourselves endlessly to those around us. You, for example. Do you think of yourself as the great Jamie Carpenter’s faithful sidekick? Of course you don’t, even though that is how the rest of the world sees you. You see yourself as an intelligent, insightful girl, cleverer than most, and you resent the fact that you are forced to live in Mr. Carpenter’s shadow. Or am I wrong?”

  “That’s enough,” said Turner. He cast a glance in her direction, a look she instantly understood.

  Don’t give him what he wants.

  “Did I offend you?” asked Valentin, his voice dripping with insincerity. “If so, forgive me. It was not my intention.”

  “Yes, it was,” said Kate. “But that’s okay. And you’re right about some things, Mr. Rusmanov. I guess that when you’ve lived a life as long as yours you become pretty good at reading people. But you’re wrong about Jamie. I don’t resent him, and I’m proud to be his friend. And I really don’t care whether you believe that or not.”

  “I do believe you,” said Valentin, softly. “And I know he feels the same about you.”

  Kate knew she was doing exactly what she wasn’t supposed to by letting Valentin draw her into a conversation about herself and her friends. He was interested only in pushing her buttons, in eliciting the reactions he was looking for. It was nothing more than a game to him, a cruel entertainment.

  “Did he tell you that?” she asked, unable to stop herself.

  “Indirectly,” replied Valentin. “His mother was kind enough to pass the information on.”

  Kate frowned. “When did you talk to Marie?”

  “Oh, I drop in on her every now and then,” said Valentin. “I am somewhat starved of company downstairs, and it turns out that Mrs. Carpenter loves few things more than a pot of tea and a civilized conversation. She and I have become rather close as a result.”

  “If you hurt her,” said Turner, his voice like polar ice. “If you upset her, or scare her, or in any way attempt to manipulate her, I will kill you, and I promise you that Cal Holmwood will not say a word. She is not part of this.”

  “Part of what?” asked Valentin, in a low voice.

  “Of what we do. She’s a civilian. She’s innocent.”

  “Your opinion of me really cannot be rehabilitated, can it?” said Valentin. “Major Turner, you are aware that I made a promise a long time ago not to hurt any member of the Carpenter family, although I feel the need to point out that there is precisely nothing you could do about it if I changed my mind. I enjoy Marie’s company, and I know the feeling is mutual. I have done nothing more than attempt to teach her about what she has become and offer her a shoulder to cry on when she is worried about her son. I am still capable of emotion, Major Turner, and of associating with humans without the desire to torture and kill them. I am not the monster you think I am.”

  “No,” said Turner. “You’re worse. You hide your cruelty behind a mask of friendship. A convincing mask, at that. But still just a mask.”

  “I would not presume to try and change your mind, Major Turner,” said Valentin. “You will believe what you believe.”

  “You’re right,” said Turner. “I will.”

  “Very well. In which case, let us leave Major Turner’s beliefs where they are and return to the matter at hand,” said Valentin, smiling broadly at Kate. “I know that Jamie is proud to be your friend because you are a subject that endlessly delights his mother. Marie practically falls over herself to tell me how fond of you
she is. She also has a tendency to tell me things she has kept from Jamie, things that—”

  “Don’t,” said Kate.

  “Don’t what?” inquired Valentin.

  “Don’t try to play games with me. I don’t need to know what Marie has told you.”

  “If I was attempting to play games with you,” said Valentin, pleasantly, “I would have told you how much Marie hates your friend Larissa, and how fervently she hopes her son will come to his senses and fall hopelessly in love with you. But I didn’t tell you that, did I?” Then the ancient vampire’s smile disappeared and, for the briefest of moments, a flicker of red flared in the furthest corners of his eyes. “Oh dear,” he said, softly. “Now that was careless of me.”

  A chill ran up Kate’s spine, then spread slowly through her entire body.

  I didn’t want to know that. I really didn’t.

  “Mr. Rusmanov,” growled Paul Turner. “This interview is over. Thank you very much for your time.”

  “So soon?” sighed Valentin. “I was just starting to enjoy myself.”

  “You don’t know Jamie,” spat Kate. “You don’t know anything about him, or me, or Larissa. You don’t know anything.”

  “Lieutenant Randall,” said Turner, fixing her with an ominous stare.

  “You don’t care about anything,” she continued. “You’re only here because you don’t like the idea of having to do what Dracula tells you, but you’re too scared to face him on your own. You’re just a coward.”

  “Kate—”

  “You’re clever, and you’ve been around forever, and you think it’s fun to screw with people, to tell them things and see what happens. But it’s not fun. It’s pathetic. Jamie goes out there every day trying to stop the darkness from taking over, and what do you do? You sit in your cell and you think up little schemes and tricks and pat yourself on the back for being so clever. You’re nothing. I know it, you know it, and Jamie knows it.”

  Valentin frowned for a moment, before his eyes widened and he burst out laughing, a high, feminine sound that raised the hairs on the back of Kate’s neck. “Oh dear,” he said. “I honestly believed you knew. But you don’t, do you? Neither of you do.”