by Aimée Thurlo
“I made it consistent with the evidence. I repeated the story about the big cat, informed him that you and I defended ourselves in your apartment by killing the wolf and those fanatics, and that you had driven off after the cat. I told him that I hoped to find you, then team up to track down the animal. I mentioned that you spoke Navajo and understood the culture, and that you had reported seeing a Navajo near the cat, who was probably its trainer.”
“Kind of true. How much of it did he buy?”
“I think he believes I’ve gone around the bend after being attacked by an enormous wolf and two naked fanatics, but Lewis is willing to let me make the trip as long as it’s clear he’s not with me on it. I’m to report in every four hours unless something critical prevents me from doing so. He also wants a written report. I promised him one tomorrow at the latest.”
“Do you trust him?”
“He suspects I’d like his job, and I would. I’ve made it clear that I have a career with the Bureau in mind, and expect to climb the ladder quickly. That makes any trust conditional at best. He’d sell me up the river in a second, though I doubt he’d deliberately put me in danger or risk getting caught in a lie. Loyalty to a fellow officer out in the field comes before politics for him, but just barely. At least that’s my estimation.”
He looked around the neighborhood they were passing through heading north again, skirting most of the city to the cast by following roads beside the Rio Grande, on their left. “Now you see why I like working alone.”
Diane looked disappointed, but didn’t speak.
“I hate dealing with paperwork . . . or assholes.” He grinned and went on. “Glad you were with me yesterday, though,” he said in a more serious tone. “I’ve never taken on three wolves in my living room before. It was a bit close for comfort.”
“Way too close. I have the scratches and bruises to prove it.” She looked down at the scrapes on her hands that shed gotten when she’d held the wolfs throat just inches from her own. Apparently trying to shake the memory from her mind, she looked up into the pale blue sky, where the sun, this being New Mexico, was perpetually shining. “How much sunlight can you stand? Do you tan, or does your skin start smoking, like in the movies?”
“May I never find out. I think my naturally dark coloring helps protect me a little, and the fact I’m not a full vampire helps too. But I do tan quickly. When I notice a color change beginning I know its time to cover up and get more sunblock.”
“So you and vampires are essentially the same, except by degree. They are faster and stronger, and barely age at all?”
He nodded. “But full vampires are much more vulnerable to the sun.”
“How do you know?”
“I went to Germany back in I990, right after the reunification of Hast and West, searching for Hans Gruber. I was posing as a tourist looking for German soldiers that may have encountered my father during WW II. I stumbled across an unemployed, ex-East German soldier, who was also a vampire.”
“Doubly dangerous and now unemployed?”
Lee nodded. “The ex-soldier had heard me asking around and knew I was an American. He stalked me in the dark, thinking I had money and would be easy prey. But I could hear and see him, which was a real shock. Not only was I aware of his presence, I was much stronger than he expected.”
“He still had the advantage, didn’t he?”
“But I had superior training from self-defense instructors, including a Japanese martial-arts master. I was able to break free from his grasp, and put some distance between us. Then, for about an hour, we stalked each other in a large, urban apartment building.”
“Why didn’t you just take off when you had the chance?”
“He was a vampire, and I knew he hadn’t been born in that condition. I thought he might know Gruber, or know of him. I had to take that chance.”
“So what happened?”
“I managed to ambush him on a balcony, and in the struggle, we both tell two stories onto the parking lot. I landed on top, and kept him pinned until the sun came up. I was hoping to make him squirm until he told me all he knew. I’d learned to speak some of the German language years earlier.”
“But he didn’t talk, or didn’t know anything?”
“He never got the chance. The East German didn’t have any sunblock, and had become totally dependent on daytime shelter from the sun. The guy died within a few minutes from terrible burns, and all I got was a bit of a tan on my exposed skin.”
“You feel guilty about it?”
“I have my own baggage, but not from that guy. I found out he made his living robbing and killing people in that apartment complex—a simple enough trade for someone with a vampire’s abilities.”
“Care to talk about your baggage? Besides your fellow state policemen, and those soldiers?” Diane said.
“Not really. It’s better now to stay focused.” Lee thought about Benny Mondragon, the young lieutenant, and all the rest of the dead soldiers. The memories were still there, but compared to Annie’s memory, they were history. Annie represented something much more lasting, and as eternal as his own life could be. That baggage would always be a part of him.
“Like now?” Diane teased.
“Sorry. You’re right, we need a plan. Any suggestions?”
“If Muller is Gruber, he knows about sunblock and wears it religiously. If you want to confirm that Major Muller is Hans Gruber, the vampire you’re after, why don’t you use an old FBI trick? Search his trash and look for empty sunblock bottles. Messy work, sometimes, but relatively low risk,” Diane offered.
“Nobody outside weapons labs guards his trash.” She paused, then added, “But there’s a fundamental flaw in your theory about Muller being Gruber. The German Air Force wouldn’t have allowed a guy who can’t be outside in the sun to enlist.”
“Unless Gruber has assumed someone else’s identity relatively recently, I really don’t know the answer to that. There’s record of him having reported a skin condition that makes him sensitive to light—but maybe he reported that after he was in. That still doesn’t explain it, mind you. He would have been discharged for something like that—it would interfere with the part of his job spent outside an aircraft cockpit.” He looked at her and shrugged. “I just don’t know.” He paused, then continued. “But first we have to decide—do we go after Muller or the skinwalkers first.”
“I’ve already told you I’m not going to stop looking for those skinwalkers, but we already know where Muller is. We don’t even know what the skinwalker who became that panther looks like in human form, much less where to find him. It just makes sense to begin with Muller while local authorities and the rest of the local Bureau look for Tanner’s relative and whoever was the panther. Besides, I think the German Air Force rotates their units when they complete their training missions here in New Mexico, so we don’t have forever.”
“Agreed, partner.”
She looked at him strangely for a second, then nodded. “I guess we are partners—for now. I suppose that makes me Scully to your Mulder. Only you’re an X-File all by yourself, Lee.”
“Ain’t that the truth? Let’s return to the safe house, do what we can over the Internet, then call and see if we can learn what day is trash day in iVIuller’s neighborhood. After that, we can plan a garbage harvest.”
“All right with me. But while we’re on the way, would you remind me again about the best way to kill a vampire?”
“Sure,” he said, nodding. Diane had good survival instincts. As long as they worked together, they’d need to protect each other. Her best resources would be knowledge and courage.
“Hang on, I think we may have a tail. That van has been following us for several blocks.” Lee looked in the side mirror.
Diane leaned back in the seat, watching out her side mirror. “That’s a Mudde Pie delivery van. You’re just hungry,” Diane moaned, but she checked her seat belt, then brought out her pistol and held it on her lap.
“Th
ey’re closing in, hang on!” Lee looked ahead, swerving to the right onto a narrow side street. To the left was the high concrete wall of a mobile home park, and to the right a fenced-in industrial park. The van followed at high speed.
Suddenly a sedan appeared at the next block, cutting across the road, blocking their way. They were boxed in!
“Fake left, go right!” Diane shouted.
Lee accelerated, heading for the narrow gap in front of the sedan. The sedan moved forward to cut them off. At the last minute, Lee swerved to the right.
The tailgate of the pickup slapped the rear end of the sedan as the truck lost some traction, but Lee managed to squeeze through.
“We’re not running!” he shouted, cutting to the left and sliding to a stop fifty feet from the sedan and parallel to it. Tires screeched from somewhere on the other side of the car as the pursuing van was forced to stop.
Lee leaped out of the pickup, and sprinted to the sedan before the startled occupant, Devon Blackhorse, could exit on the driver’s side. Lee had his Beretta out already, and fired on the run just as Blackhorse, startled by Lee’s quickness, desperately swung his weapon around.
Blackhorse’s head trembled slightly as Lee’s nine-millimeter pistol round struck him in the throat, and he fell sideways out onto the pavement. Lee ducked his shoulder as he bounced off the side of the sedan, unable to stop in time.
“Stay down!” Diane yelled from behind, and a burst of automatic weapon erupted from the van, tearing into the sedan, riddling the interior and shattering the windows.
Lee, ducking the flying glass, took a grazing bullet strike across his shoulder blades, and felt the sting. He turned to look behind him, and Diane, using the pickup’s engine for cover, returned fire over his head toward the van.
There was another three-second burst of automatic gunfire, mostly too high, but the windshield of his pickup was chipped away, the rounds ricocheting into the air. Diane had already ducked down again.
Lee moved at a crouch toward the front end of the sedan, and peeked out just as the van raced off. He started to stand and return fire, then thought better and stayed down, not wanting to be hit by Diane, who was still behind him. He turned to look at her and noticed she’d avoided shooting as well.
“Shit!” Diane yelled. “They’re getting away!”
Lee stood, raised his pistol, then realized it would take a lucky shot to put the fleeing vehicle out of action. The van swung out into the boulevard, then turned south and disappeared from sight.
He ran around the front end of the sedan, and confirmed that Darvon Blackhorse wouldn’t be moving anytime soon—except in a body bag.
Diane ran up. “You want to go after the van?”
“Probably too late for that. Make the call!”
Diane dialed the police on her cell phone, and Lee took a quick look around the car without touching anything. It was apparently stolen, because it had a Las Cruees parking-lot sticker on the fender, along with a decal of a local gun club. That explained the firepower, probably stolen along with the car.
Lee realized how bright it was and looked down at his slacks, which had a tear in them and a bloody scrape. It was already healing, but there was a danger of sunburn now, even more so from his back wound.
“You need to get out of the light, and away from anyone who’ll see you healing up so fast. Take the pickup and try to find the van. I’ll handle the cops,” Diane said, disconnecting the call. “I’ll cover for you, then call and arrange for you to pick me up somewhere.”
“Good idea.” Lee hurried back to the pickup, and was already a block away in the direction the van had fled when he heard the sound of approaching sirens.
Three hours later, Lee picked up Diane at a shopping center, having stopped at an auto-glass shop after failing to locate the missing van. The windshield had been replaced while he waited.
“How did it go at the scene?” Lee asked as soon as they were moving again.
“The Las Cruees PD was happy to have one suspect out of action, and so was SAC Lewis until I told him that he’d probably been followed by the shooters and used to locate me and you. He said he’ll be more careful from now on. But nobody liked not being able to speak with you. I got your Lieutenant Richmond on the line, and he wanted a full report, in writing, ASAP.
“The delivery van was found within the hour, abandoned in a minimall parking lot near a residential area. Crime scene people are still going over the vehicle. Nine-millimeter shells are everywhere inside it, apparently. Officers are questioning local residents, but I doubt they’ll get anything.”
“And the sedan? Stolen from the same person missing a handgun and assault rifle, right. What was that weapon, did you find out?”
“The man who lost his car and weapons is a registered gun collector, and owns several firearms, including an AK-47. That and a Walther P-38 were missing, along with several boxes of ammunition. The guy came by to see his ear, and was really pissed when he found blood all over the driver’s side. The bullet holes and broken glass didn’t seem to bother him as much as the blood, oddly enough.”
“We still have another skinwalker out there, from the van,” Lee reminded. “Did you notice anything about the driver?”
“Just a person with an assault rifle. With all the bullets flying by, I didn’t stop to take a good look for facial features.”
“Is that what you told the Cruces PD?”
“I said the person had darker skin, like an Indian. Think I should have?” Diane looked over at Lee, then checked in the rearview mirror for the tenth time.
Lee nodded. “Bound to be a Navajo. We’ll have to keep checking on Blackhorse and Tanner acquaintances and relatives for a likely suspect.”
“I advised that to the detectives I spoke with, and to SAC Lewis. Do you think Darvon Blackhorse was the panther who killed my partner?” Diane asked.
“Who knows? Maybe we’ll find out when we finally track down the other skinwalker. If we see them in animal form, that should tell us for sure.”
“Right. Well, if you have no other firefights planned for today, I’m ready to take a break. How about we head back to the safe house?” Diane said. “And on the way, refresh my memory again on how to kill a vampire—if we live long enough to try.”
Lee continued the lesson he’d begun hours ago, but waited until he’d had a chance to clean up and change clothes. When he was ready, he opened a vent in the master bedroom, held in place via magnets on the inside but with phony screw heads to mislead anyone searching. He brought out a hand towel, and unwrapped it. Inside was a sturdy lockback knife with a simple but deadly looking four-inch blade.
“Sears Craftsman. Lifetime guarantee, no doubt.” Diane examined the sturdy brass-and-polished-oak handle of the knife, curved slightly to accommodate the hand.
Lee watched her pull out the blade and heard if snap into place. “It’s not just for fishing or around the construction site anymore. Find a way to carry if so you can bring it out quickly in total darkness, if necessary, but never resort to it unless you’re without your pistol, or have already disabled the vampire so he can’t resist. This is just for removing his head, which will kill him. You could also stab him in the heart with it, but if you do, make sure you hit the heart several times so it’ll quit functioning completely. Of course there’s always fire, but a flamethrower is harder to conceal in your boot.”
“Maybe I’ll pick up some hair spray and a lighter.” She shrugged. “Come to think of it, that might not be a bad idea.” Diane worked the blade open and closed several times without looking down, getting a feel for it. Finally she gave it one more look, then placed it in her jeans pocket. It bulged out suspiciously, and she reached inside, shifting it around.
He smiled. “That’s why I carry my knife in my boot. Gets a lot less attention than a front pocket. If I’m using an identity where carrying a firearm arouses suspicion, and have to go through metal detectors, I carry a tough plastic or nylon blade. But I try to avoid t
hese situations. I don’t trust knives like that as much as a firearm or steel.”
“Anything to incapacitate the vampire long enough to be able to finish him off. Or her?” Diane said, raising the gender question.
“I’ve met only one vampire woman, in France, and she didn’t have an ounce of evil in her. Sounds kind of strange saying that. But, to her, I was the curiosity. Lee raised an eyebrow.
“She must have never met a Navajo half vampire, poor sheltered girl,” Diane said.
“Never met a Navajo, actually.” He laughed, then walked to the closet of the master bedroom. She watched as he opened a shoe box and took out several maps. One was a detailed chart of a housing area northeast of Holloman AFB in the city of Alamogordo. He unfolded it upon the bed.
“What do you know about Major Muller’s daily routine?” Diana walked over and sat down on the bed beside the map, looking at the details Lee had added lightly in pencil. He sat down on the opposite side of the bed and pointed out the location of Major Muller’s house, the route he generally took out of the neighborhood when he drove to the base, which was southeast. Then he gave her a general description of the neighborhood.
Looking up to judge her reaction, he noticed that they were seated less than two feet apart. He stood up, and awkwardly reached for the map. “Maybe we should look at this at the kitchen table. I feel a cup of coffee calling me.” His hormones were scrambling his thinking. He needed to put space between them.
“Right. And one of us still needs to call to find out about the day the trash is picked up in that neighborhood.”
Lee walked out of the bedroom, and she followed.
After a look at the Alamogordo phone book, one of the many things he’d acquired in preparation for this hunt, Diane made the call. It didn’t take her long, posing as a new resident in the same area, to learn the days of refuse pickup.
“The last pickup day was Tuesday, and this is Saturday. How much skinblock do you think he uses? How much do you use?”
“You can’t buy the stuff by the gallon, and between the needs of his occupation and being a full vampire, I’d say he uses a bottle every other day, depending on how often he’s forced to be outside during daytime. I use two containers a week and work a night shift as a state cop.”
