Beside him, Julius felt Biggs snap to attention. “Yes, sir.”
From the gloom at the other end of the hallway Marco’s wheelchair rolled forward, being pushed by Peter, Marco’s assistant.
Marco’s makeup was smeared with sweat, and he was hunched over, making him look like a carved demon. Julius studied his brother, but for the moment. Marco’s attention was on Biggs. “I understand how difficult it must have been For you to carry out your orders,” he said. “It’s not an easy thing to take your boss’s authority away from him. Rest easy, though. I will reward your loyalty upon my return.”
Marco’s eyes flashed to Julius.
Well, there’s life in the old boy yet, thought Julius, as his brother’s piercing gaze locked with his own. “Little brother, I apologize for the inconvenience. Unfortunately you gave me no choice. Until I can return and explain things to you fully, you’re just going to have to trust that this is for the best. You’ve jeopardized matters of which you have no comprehension, and I can’t take the time right now to show you the error of your ways.”
Julius let his head fall forward. “Actually, I do understand. I disobeyed you, thinking of nothing more than my son. I was blinded by my fear for him.”
Marco nodded his vulpine head as Julius looked up at him I. “I too understand, little brother. Still, I do have good news. I’ve discovered Warren’s whereabouts, and I’m going now to secure his release.”
This is it. thought Julius. He forced all the surprise he could his voice. “Warren? You know where he is?”
Marco nodded, and chuckled. “He is safe and well and should be returning to the fold in a few days. When he does, he will be in charge until I can return and clear things up with you. I expect you to give him the same good counsel you have given me all these years, though you will not have the same authority. He is the future of Fratellanza, Inc., little brother.”
Julius nodded. “Let me go with you. I want to see my son. I promise I wont do anything… rash.” Julius held his breath.
Marco shook his head. “If you have proven anything in the last twenty-four hours, it is that you cannot be trusted where your son is concerned. No, you will remain here for the duration.”
Julius let his head fall forward again. hiding the small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I accept the wisdom of what you’re saying, though my heart doesn’t agree.”
“Sir,” said Peter. “We had better be going if we’re going to keep to our schedule.”
Julius felt Biggs’ hand tighten on his arm, and he looked up. Marco waved to Peter, who rolled his chair forward. As they approached, Julius asked, “While you’re away, who’s going to take care of business?”
Marco smiled, showing his black gums. “That’s the Julius I know. Don’t worry. Everything has been taken care of. All current contracts can be handled by staff. You just rest, and know that your son will be back soon.”
With that, Marco was past him.
Julius looked at Peter, young, dark-haired, and pretty in a masculine sort of way. Peter shot a glance at Julius, and that look was so full of terror that Julius felt his heart break. He knew the poor kid probably wouldn’t be alive for more than another hour, and he sensed that Peter had come to the same conclusion. Still, there was nothing he could do about it.
Then they were out the door and into the sunshine. The last sight of Peter that Julius ever got was of the young man extending the wide black umbrella and then attaching it to the chair. The light was too strong for Marco to face directly.
Biggs closed the door behind them.
“This way,” he said, staying in character. Julius had told him that Marco’s senses were heightened beyond belief, so they had agreed to continue until ten minutes after Marco’s car had left the drive.
Biggs guided Julius to his room on the second floor, then stood by the door as Julius went to check the window. Julius watched as the modified Rolls Royce pulled down the drive and out the gate.
A wave of bone-heavy anger stormed through Julius as he stepped over to the bed and sat down on it.
Biggs looked at his wrist chronometer, then pulled a small black box from his suit pocket. The box was twenty centimeters square and it had a simple switch on the top, just to the side of a small red light.
Biggs set the box on the small, intricately carved table and flipped the switch. For a moment, nothing happened, and then the red light blinked twice. Julius looked up as Riggs said softly, “Room’s clear.”
Julius nodded, and went back to waiting. At exactly ten minutes, Biggs looked over at him and smiled. “Time.”
Julius pulled a small portacom from his pocket and tapped in a series of numbers he’d been given by the decker-boy the shadowrunners called Sandman.
There were two clicks as the signal was bounced from host host, then the call connected.
Killian’s voice came through strong and without delay. “Yes?”
Julius smiled. “Elvis has left the building. Begin Operation Dracula.”
With those words, Julius was setting two events in motion. One was the legal proceeding that would finally give him sole control of Fratellanza, Inc. The other was the assault that would be his last chance to get Warren back before his son was changed into a vampire.
30
A vampire that can move at will in sunlight is a fiend with power beyond measure. It can travel wherever it wants to, whenever it wants to; it can hunt at any hour of the day; and it cannot be easily distinguished from a normal metahuman because it lacks the very weakness that once defined it. If the Ordo’s plan succeeds, they will gain total control over all of our lives in the blink of an eye, and we will be unable to lift a finger to stop them.
–Martin de Vries, Shadows at Noon, posted to Shadowland BBS. 24 May 2057
The assistant, the one called Pakow, watched emotionlessly as Marco drained the last of the blood from Peter’s body, letting the limp thing, which only moments before had been so full of life, fall to the floor of the loading dock.
His hunger sated, Marco straightened painfully and looked at the small man and grinned. “I’m ready, now. So if you’ll be so good as to have this mess cleaned up, we can go.”
The man called Pakow nodded curtly. “If you’ll just follow me, your room is prepared.” He gestured vaguely at the mess “I’ll have this taken care of.”
Sitting back down in his wheelchair, Marco nodded, then waited until the man took the hint. Coming up behind Marco Pakow pushed his chair into the building.
“Where is Doctor Wake?” Marco demanded. “I had expected him to meet me when I arrived.”
“He’s resting.” Pakow said. “He needs to gather his strength for the last part of the procedure on your nephew. It takes quite a bit out of him. Though I’m not totally versed in these matters, I understand that the magical aspects of the procedure are some of the most extreme to be found in the field of the arcane.”
Marco grunted his understanding. “How is it going? Have there been any complications?”
There was a short pause, then Pakow said. “As far as I know, everything is progressing beyond Doctor Wakes expectations. We’re using the latest strain of the virus on your nephew, and initial testing shows an unprecedented breakthrough.”
Marco twisted slowly in his chair, feeling his spine crackle with the effort. “How so? I thought that with Derek we had reached a pinnacle of sorts.”
Pakow’s face broke into a tight smile. “Hardly. After all, your son suffered many of the same unpredictable reactions as you have from the procedure. Your nephew has benefited from being the recipient of a strain that should leave his melatonin levels intact.”
For just a moment, Marco couldn’t believe his ears. “You mean that…”
Pakow nodded, and turned the corner of the hall, passing a work station on the left. “Yes. If all continues according to plan, your nephew will never have to worry about applying make-up. He will look normal in all aspects. Well, skin-related aspects, at
least. He will still have to wear contacts to provide any sort of eye pigmentation, but I think that is a small price to pay, considering.”
Marco couldn’t help the huge grin spreading over his face.
“That is far beyond what I had hoped for. Your Doctor Wake is a miracle worker.”
Pakow didn’t answer, but Marco hardly noticed. He was dazzled by the possibilities this news offered.
They arrived at an open doorway near the end of the hall.
“This will be your room” Pakow told him.
Marco looked around as Pakow wheeled him inside. The room was huge, nearly twenty meters square. The walls were covered with small white tiles that glittered softly in the indirect light.
In the center of the room stood a bed, with what looked like an oxygen tent over one end. There were straps on all sides, though they’d been pulled back and tied down to the thick metal legs that supported the large expanse of sleep area.
A bank of monitors rested just to the side of the bed, and Marco could see robotic auto-injectors on the other side.
“Where’s my telecom?” he said.
The question obviously took Pakow by surprise, because the confusion on his face was genuine.
“My damn telecom. One of the reasons I agreed to come in was that Wake promised me I could communicate with my nephew when he returned to the outside world.”
The baffled expression on Pakow’s face made Marco want to rip the flesh from his skull, but he refrained.
“I apologize, Mister D’imato. I can only assume that Doctor Wake might have thought you would be bringing your own compact unit along. Still, I don’t see that it will be a problem. I’ll see to it personally.” The man paused, looking a bit apprehensive. If you’ll forgive me for saying so, I’m not sure you fully understand the nature of this procedure.”
Marco felt the hackles rise on the back of his neck. “What do you mean?” His voice was low and dangerous.
Pakow shook his head. “It’s just that this is no ordinary procedure. This is something we have never done before. I’m sorry to say that it won’t be pleasant, especially in the first stages. I think that was why Doctor Wake wanted to get you in as soon as possible.”
Marco frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.”
Pakow shrugged. “Your condition is not good. We may have to resort to extreme measures to bring it back under control, before we can even begin to attempt any reversal. Those extreme measures will very likely be painful, requiring a well, staggering amount of sedation.”
Marco chewed on his lip. “So what you’re saying is that I’ll be out of it for a few days.”
Pakow nodded, and resumed pushing Marco’s chair. “If things progress well, you should be past the worst by the time your nephew is ready to be released.”
Marco shook his head. “I don’t care. I want the telecom, and I want it today. With a secure outside line.”
They had reached the bed, and Pakow let the wheelchair roll to a stop. “Of course. As said, I’ll see to it personally.”
Marco looked at the bed, then up at Pakow, who was once again expressionless.
“I won’t presume to insult you by offering to help, Mister D’imato, If you would kindly getup onto the bed, I’ll get you a dressing gown, and we can get the procedure underway.”
Marco smiled, and for the first time since the man had defied him when he’d delivered Warren to the loading dock, he thought he might just spare him after all.
Willing his body to break down, he let his form shift, and turn. Not quite mist, he settled lightly onto the bed, then solidified. He stripped out of his suit jacket and shirt, the sable skin of his chest and belly eating the light.
Pakow turned away as Marco finished stripping and walked toward one wall near the row of monitors, He pressed an off-colored tile, and a small closet opened. Marco watched as the man drew a dressing gown from the rack and brought it over to him.
By then Marco was completely naked. Pakow set the gown next to him, and then returned to the closet. He closed it with a gentle push, then moved down about two meters to another discolored tile. Marco made sure to memorize where each odd-colored tile was located.
When Pakow pushed on the tile, a waist-high section of the wall moved out, and Pakow pulled it clear, leaving a small cubbyhole. In it was a portable sink, complete with integral hot and cold. Two smaller nozzles at the sides were labeled betadine disinfection soap and hand lotion.
Pakow rolled the cart to Marco. who took the opportunity to rid himself of the irritating makeup on his hands and face.
As he was washing, Pakow said, “Just below the hot water faucet, you’ll find a small green button. It opens a tray on the side where you’ll find towels to dry off.”
With that, Pakow turned to the bank of monitors and began powering up the system.
Marco finished rubbing lotion onto his skin, which still burned slightly from the alcohol. He looked over at Pakow, who was just finishing up. After returning the cart to its proper place in the wall, Pakow said, Are you ready to begin?”
Marco grunted. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Then if you’ll just lie back, I’ll start the first of the painkillers.”
Marco raised a hand, but before he could speak, Pakow nodded. “Don’t worry, Mister D’imato. As soon as the process is underway, I’ll get you your telecom.”
Marco smiled, and used his hands to swing his legs up onto the bed. He lay back, looking up into the clear plastic tent that Pakow held over him.
Pakow let it down gently, then returned to the monitors. Within seconds. Marco could detect a gentle hissing sound.
For just a moment, he almost ripped the tent oft his face. Something felt wrong. This whole thing had suddenly begun to take on the proportions of a nightmare.
The moment passed just as quickly as it had come, and Marco felt the pain in his spine ease. He began to drift, the world growing fuzzy and comfortable around him.
Thirty minutes later, Pakow left the room and locked the door behind him. He turned to the small panel next to the door and pulled it open. Flipping switches in sequence, he started the room’s air evacuation.
As soon as all the lights had turned red, Pakow took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The shakes hit his knees first, and be thought they might buckle under him.
The monster was safely out of the way. Without any air in the room, the vampire would go into stasis. Considering that he’d fed just before going in, Pakow calculated that D’imato would finally expire in a little over a month, unless Doctor Wake found a reason to revive him.
Wiping at the sweat on his forehead, which mercifully hadn’t appeared while he was with D’imato, Pakow walked quickly on his still shaking legs back to the monitoring station down the hall. He half expected the display to show the room empty, but when he touched the screen, he was relieved to see the motionless form of Marco D’imato still lying on the bed.
He reached over and opened the line to Doctor Wake.
“Wake here,” came the immediate response. “I trust everything went according to plan?”
Pakow laughed, a wry, almost angry sound. “Yes, but you night have told me he wanted a telecom in the room. I thought he was going to renege on the whole deal.”
The sound of a drawn-out sigh filled the hallway, and when Wake answered, Pakow could hear the exhaustion in his voice. “I apologize, Doctor Pakow. It slipped my mind. What happened?”
Pakow shook his head, though part of him realized that Wake couldn’t see him do it. “Nothing. I managed to convince him that it was an oversight, and that as soon as the procedure was started, I would make sure he got what he wanted.”
“Excellent. You are to be commended for quick thinking, though I have always known you had a devious streak.”
Something in Wake’s tone bothered Pakow. The man surely suspected what Pakow had been doing, that he’d been the one who had contacted de Vries. Or did he?
Pakow sighed heavily. O
ne thing was certain; he wasn’t going to risk crossing Wake again. I’m sorry. de Vries. From here on. you’re on your own.
31
Voice 1: There are vampires in Ordo Maximus, and I think they have access to some magical rituals that let them use the essence drain from victims to offset the drain of cybermantic magic. Needless to say, I haven’t gotten far trying to find out much more. Its not something I’d want to risk, frankly.
Voice 2: You think that geek de Vries was right, then?
Voice 1: He got initiated into the middling grades. I think he knew. He may even have met one or two of them. There are a hundred and one tales about how he got infected.
–From encrypted telecom transcripts posted to Shadowland BBS by Captain Chaos, 11 December 2056. Identity of speakers not definitively verified.
In his study. Wake leaned forward and put his head in his hands. He tried to roll his shoulders to alleviate some of the tension that had built up in his muscles, but it was no use.
Things are getting too complicated here, and the work is suffering for it. That can’t be allowed.
He straightened and turned to the telecom on his desk. Tapping in a sixteen-digit code he hadn’t used in over two years, he waited patiently for the connection. As he did, he calculated what time it would be in London. Just a bit after four in the afternoon.
The man who came on line was balding and pale, with a huge mole on his forehead. Wake reflected for a moment that he didn’t even know the man’s name. When they’d first met, names were a dangerous thing. Later, they seemed unimportant.
“Ah, it’s you,” the man said, showing discolored teeth. “It’s been a while.”
Wake hadn’t called to engage in idle chitchat. “I need to talk.”
The man nodded, staring back from the telecom display. He had a look of shock on his face that he tried to hide, but not before Wake saw it.
“Good god, man, you look like bloody hell.” The clipped British accent turned dry and disinterested, so Wake assumed there were others present.
Terminus Experiment Page 20
