by Will Hill
He wasn’t sure the same would go for Jamie’s best friend. Matt Browning was buried deeply in the endless grind of the Lazarus Project – too deeply in the opinion of most neutral observers – and Turner doubted that even the unexplained absence of his friend would prove anything more than a momentary distraction. It wasn’t that he believed that Matt wouldn’t care about Larissa being gone, or wouldn’t be worried about Jamie, but rather that he was so completely engrossed in his work that his remarkable brain would not be able to justify expending any of its prodigious capacity on something that he could do nothing about.
Kate Randall, on the other hand? On that score, Turner was far from certain. She had first-hand experience in dealing with loss, awful, dreadful experience that had first pushed the two of them together, and he knew how tough she was, how resilient and capable. But she was also devoted to her friends. He was sure there would be a part of her, the part she hid from almost everyone, that would wonder whether there had been anything she could have done, whether there had been signs and signals that she had missed, whether she had somehow failed Larissa when she needed her.
Turner found himself smiling as he thought about Kate, then felt a sharp pang of guilt stab at him. After he became Director, he had made the decision to allow some distance between himself and the teenage girl he had come to rely on. It was for her own good; her rapid rise to a position of influence within the Security Division had caused resentment, and he knew full well that there were many people inside the Loop who believed she had intentionally cultivated a close relationship with him or, even more unkindly, that he had given her special treatment because she had been in a relationship with his son when he died. If he kept her close now that he was Director, as he would have preferred to, the accusations, the belief that she was a teacher’s pet, that she was nothing more than his favourite would become ever more insistent.
Accusations which were complete bullshit.
In an ideal world, he would have made her Security Officer, and done so without the slightest hesitation; his job was to ensure that the vital roles inside Blacklight were filled by the best people, and Kate was simply that good. But the world was far from ideal, and it would have been an endless distraction that he, and Kate, did not need.
Especially not now, he thought. Not if Larissa really is gone.
The wall screen opposite his desk lit up as a loud tone rang out of the speakers, displaying an INCOMING CALL message. He read Angela Darcy’s name in the window and clicked ACCEPT.
“Sir?” asked the Security Officer.
“I’m here, Captain Darcy,” he replied. “What is it?”
“I need you to go online, sir. Right now.”
Turner frowned, and opened a browser window. “What site?” he asked.
“Any of them, sir,” said Angela.
The Director’s frown deepened. “Stay on the line,” he said, and typed the address for BBC News into the search bar. The site loaded, and a thick black BREAKING NEWS headline filled the screen, twelve words that stopped the breath in his lungs.
VIDEO MESSAGE SHOWS VAMPIRE
CLAIMING TO BE DRACULA, ISSUES
WARNING TO HUMANITY
Turner clicked on the headline. The page shifted to an article that was only two paragraphs long, with More to follow beneath them, but he paid the words no attention; his eye was drawn instantly to the video embedded at the top of the page. The rectangular box was black, with the words A MESSAGE at its centre. With a hand that had begun to almost imperceptibly tremble, Turner clicked PLAY.
The words faded away, replaced by a dimly lit shot of a seated figure. Turner felt his stomach lurch. Little more than the figure’s face was visible, but that was more than enough; the pale skin, the narrow features, the piercing eyes, the moustache and the long hair were instantly, awfully recognisable.
Dracula.
“Citizens of the world,” said the first vampire, his voice low and smooth. “I am Dracula, and I bring glad tidings for you all. You shall have the privilege of witnessing my rise, which is now at hand. It cannot be stopped, nor given pause. It is certain. It is as inevitable as the setting of the sun. Those of you who kneel may find me merciful. Those of you who oppose me will die. In time, I will speak again.”
The footage returned to black, before two words appeared that chilled Turner to his core; he had seen them so many times, in photographs and grainy phone footage, on walls and pavements across the country.
Turner let out a long, deep breath.
“Are you still there, Angela?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” said the Security Officer.
“Get the Intelligence Division on this immediately,” he said. “Every single frame. I want them to find something that tells us where Dracula is. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where did it first appear? The video?”
“Everywhere, sir,” said Angela. “It was posted from hundreds of different accounts on hundreds of sites at exactly the same time, twelve minutes ago, and it’s spreading faster than Surveillance can track it.”
“Assume I don’t understand the mechanics of online distribution,” said Turner. “Could that have been one person scheduling the release under aliases, or is it hundreds of people acting at the same time?”
“It could have been either, sir,” said the Security Officer. “It was highly organised, whichever it was.”
“Clearly,” he said. “Which makes me wonder what else is being planned that we don’t know about.”
“Yes, sir,” said Angela. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
“In terms of the Department, nothing yet,” he replied. “I don’t want to issue new orders or change the SOPs until we have more information. But I want you to stay in close contact with the police and the Intelligence Services. The public are already scared and paranoid, and this is only going to make things worse.”
“Understood, sir.”
“All right,” said Turner. “Message everyone in the Loop, then play the video on every screen. Let’s make sure everyone sees it and try to move past it as quickly as possible. Out.”
He reached out and clicked END CALL. There was a low beep as the connection was severed, then silence.
Jamie heard Kate shout for him to wait as he rocketed along the Level B corridor, but ignored her.
He banked to the right, past the metal doors of the lift, and crashed through the door that accessed the emergency staircase, a shaft of concrete and metal that descended all the way to the very bottom of the Loop. The door was ripped off its hinges and clattered to the ground, but Jamie didn’t pause; he spun up over the metal banister and shot down the shaft between the spiralling stairs like a bullet from a gun.
Concrete staircases and doors marked with letters flew past in a blur as the distant ground rose up to meet him. At the very last moment, the point at which it seemed that he must surely crash into the unforgiving concrete, Jamie pivoted in the air and slowed his descent, his arms wide, his eyes blazing. He landed silently in front of a door marked with an H and hauled it open.
He emerged in front of the airlock that controlled access to the long supernatural cellblock. He pressed his ID card against the panel beside the airlock door and waited as it slid slowly open. As the billowing cloud of gas passed over him and the inner door opened, he allowed a brief smile to rise on to his face; part of him had suspected that Kate would have already disabled his access, given that there had been no doubt where he was going.
Jamie exited the airlock, took a brief moment to compose himself, and strode towards his destination; the fourth cell on the right, the home of Valentin Rusmanov. Kate’s voice shouted in his head as he approached the ultraviolet wall that enclosed it, pleading with him to stay calm, to not do anything stupid, but he barely heard it over the torrent of furious panic that was roaring through him.
What did you do, you old monster? What did you say to her?
He stopped in front of the purple barrie
r and looked into the cell. Valentin Rusmanov was sitting in a chair near the back of the room, his legs crossed at the ankles, a paperback book in his hands. He was looking directly at Jamie.
“Lieutenant Carpenter,” said the old vampire. “What an entirely expected surprise. How are you?”
“What did you say to her?” growled Jamie. “Tell me right now.”
Valentin got slowly to his feet, stretched his long arms above his head, and regarded him with a wide smile.
“I assume you are referring to Miss Kinley,” he said. “In which case, I’m sorry to have to disappoint you. I don’t disclose the content of private conversations.”
Jamie took a step forward, his eyes flaming red. “What did you do?”
“I did nothing but listen, and talk,” said Valentin. “I assume she has left this charming facility?”
“You know she has,” said Jamie.
“Actually, I didn’t,” said Valentin. “Might I enquire as to why you are so clearly angry with me?”
“Why?” asked Jamie, his voice a low rumble of thunder. “Why the hell do you think? She came down here to talk to you and twenty minutes later she disappeared halfway around the world. That’s why.”
“I see,” said Valentin. “You have my sympathies, as I have no doubt you will miss her greatly. But if you are blaming me for her departure, then I’m afraid you are somewhat overestimating my influence. I would suggest you consider why Miss Kinley might have wanted to leave, why she might not have been entirely happy with the status quo. I suspect that will be a more productive use of your time.”
“Everyone thought you’d changed,” said Jamie. “You’ve been down here for months like a rat in a cage, telling us to believe you, telling us that you’re on our side, but you’re not, are you? You don’t give a shit about anyone apart from yourself.”
“I think Miss Kinley would disagree with that assessment,” said Valentin. “Maybe you should ask her. If you ever see her again, that is.”
The old vampire’s words cut through Jamie like a scalpel. He stared at Valentin, hatred pumping through his veins, filling his body with fire.
“You disgust me,” he growled. “I thought you were better than this. I trusted you.”
Valentin’s smile returned. “Silly boy,” he said.
The fire inside Jamie flickered and died, replaced by a misery so overwhelming it almost drove him to his knees. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, trying to squeeze shut the chasm of loss that had yawned open in his stomach, to push it closed and down and away.
“Jamie.”
He didn’t move; he focused only on the pain, on the grief that was threatening to paralyse him.
“Jamie. Look at me.”
He took a deep breath, raised his head, and opened his eyes. Valentin was standing directly in front of him, the ultraviolet barrier all that separated them.
“What?” he managed.
“I’m not going to tell you what Larissa and I discussed,” said Valentin, his tone softer, kinder than it had been. “It was a private conversation, and it’s none of your business, to put it bluntly. But if you think I manipulated her in some way, then I don’t think you know her very well at all. And if you think this is all about you, then I would suggest you need to get your ego under control. There are things that happen in this world that have nothing to do with you.”
“Did you tell her to leave?” asked Jamie, his voice on the verge of cracking. “Just answer me that. Did you tell her to go?”
“I won’t tell you what was said, Jamie, no matter how many times you ask.”
“I know you have a house in New York,” he said. “Larissa’s chip stopped transmitting over the Atlantic. Is that where she is? Did you send her there?”
“Please, Jamie,” said Valentin. “This desperation is undignified. The Security Officer has the addresses of all of my residences, including the house in Manhattan. I’m sure that will be the first place they look for her.”
“You talked to Angela about this?” asked Jamie. “She knew Larissa was gone?”
Valentin nodded. “We spoke about fifteen minutes ago. Do you know what her answer was when I asked her why she was so keen to find Miss Kinley?”
“No,” said Jamie. “What did Angela say?”
“Her exact words were, ‘She’s our most powerful weapon.’”
“So what?”
Valentin smiled softly. “So maybe she didn’t want to be,” he said.
Jamie grimaced; it felt like he had been punched in the stomach. He stared silently at the old vampire for a long, empty moment, then turned away without a word and walked back down the cellblock.
He stood in the airlock, his shoulders slumped, his head lowered, his eyes closed. When the gas cleared, the outer door slid open, and he stepped out. He stood still, trying to compose himself, to slow his racing mind and think, think about what he should do now. In front of him, the metal doors of the lift parted silently and Kate appeared, her eyes wide with worry.
“Jamie?” she said. “Are you all right?”
He shook his lowered head.
“Jamie, look at me,” she said, stepping forward and taking hold of his shoulders. He did so, and saw concern in her eyes, saw clear, bright love. “What did you do?”
“Nothing,” he said. “He wouldn’t tell me what he said to her. Wouldn’t tell me where she is. He knows, though. I know he does.”
Kate winced. “I’m sorry, Jamie,” she said.
He forced a tiny smile. “Everyone’s sorry. Me most of all.”
“You can’t make this all about you,” said Kate, her tone suddenly strict and forceful. “She’s a grown woman, not a petulant kid. She wouldn’t leave the country just because the two of you had a fight.”
“That’s how it feels,” said Jamie.
“I’m sure it does,” said Kate. “But you know how she’s been since she got back from Nevada. You know she hasn’t been happy with Blacklight, with what she was expected to do. She had doubts about it all, Jamie, serious moral objections to this whole thing. Maybe they got too much for her.”
“Maybe,” he said, as a lump rose into his throat. “But what if our relationship was one of the things that she thought it was worth sticking around for? What if it was why she was still here and I took it away from her?”
Kate stared at him, and said nothing.
“She’s gone,” he said. “What if she doesn’t come back, Kate? Where does that leave us? Where does it leave me?”
Kate stepped forward and wrapped her arms round him. Jamie let his head rest on her shoulder, but as he allowed his eyes to close he was acutely aware that she had not answered his questions.
A deafening crackle of static burst out of the speakers set along the corridor walls; the two friends sprang apart as Angela Darcy’s amplified voice replaced it.
“This is a Priority 1 announcement,” said the Security Officer. “Please direct your attention to the nearest screen.”
The Level H atrium was one of the few places in the entire Loop that didn’t contain a single wall screen. Jamie silently screamed at the Department’s apparent refusal to allow him even a single uninterrupted minute to himself, and pulled his console from his belt. He accessed the Blacklight network as Kate stood beside him and peered down at the screen, the look on her face suggesting that she was asking herself the same question that was filling his own mind.
What now? For the love of God, what now?
CIVILIAN MEDIA EXTRACT
Ref: 399252/F
Source: The Manchester Post
Date: 2nd May
EXTRACT BEGINS
PM CONFIRMS EXISTENCE OF BLACKLIGHT
John Ballance, Political Editor, Westminster
In a specially convened session of the House of Commons yesterday afternoon, the Prime Minister confirmed to packed benches that the secret organisation commonly referred to in the press as Blacklight is real, and enjoys his “full faith and confidence”.
Reading from a prepared statement, the Prime Minister confirmed that the clandestine unit is officially named Department 19, and that its operation is overseen directly by his office and the senior hierarchy of the Ministry of Defence, placing it in a similar position to the SAS and SBS – a military organisation with the same levels of secrecy as the Intelligence Services.
Calls by backbenchers for Department 19 to be subject to greater transparency and accountability were given short shrift by the Prime Minister, who stated that the organisation must be allowed to continue unheeded with its remit of protecting the public from threats relating to the supernatural.
The Leader of the Opposition criticised the Prime Minister’s statement, claiming that “it raised more questions than it answered”, while a senior government backbencher was quoted by the BBC as saying that, in his opinion, “a secret military organisation with an all-too-real licence to kill conducting operations against British citizens is incompatible with a civilised democracy”.
EXTRACT ENDS
CIVILIAN MEDIA EXTRACT
Ref: 401132/B
Source: The London Record
Date: 30th May
EXTRACT BEGINS
VAMPIRES PETITION EUROPEAN BODIES FOR MINORITY STATUS, CRIMINAL CHARGES
Julian Dawes, Senior Political Correspondent, Strasbourg
A petition was last night presented to the European Court of Human Rights that seeks to have ‘vampire’ officially recognised as an ethnic minority group. The legal status of the supernatural has been widely debated in recent weeks, following an announcement by the G8 countries in which they confirmed their position that vampires retain the nationalities they held before they were turned, along with any restrictions those nationalities may entail.
A parallel petition to the International Criminal Court at The Hague requested that Department 19 (UK), National Security Division 9 (USA), and similar organisations around the world be investigated for possible charges of genocide and crimes against humanity. Major Paul Turner (UK), General Robert Allen (USA), and Colonel Aleksandr Ovechkin (Russia) were among those named in the petition, although the identities of individuals who work or have worked for any of the listed organisations have never been publicly confirmed.
