by David Page
Richard allowed her to lead him towards the dark room where, no doubt, Jack would put them through another rigorous screening process as well as verbal harassment. He paused and stood perfectly still in the heavy darkness certain that Jack or one of his men had a gun trained on him. Closing his eyes, he searched within himself for the crack in the viral shield that might tip the scales in his favor and potentially save his life. The fissure was there; a gap on an otherwise smooth surface, but it was smaller, almost nonexistent. He gritted his teeth and pressed into it to no avail.
"Relax, Richard. I don't bite." Jacks voice echoed from the darkness. "At least not men." A disembodied chuckle followed.
Richard ignored the crass comment.
"I heard how you negotiated with Nash and stood down Ringo's gun. Pretty brave for a vampire." Something in Jack's voice told him that he was not happy.
"I did what was needed.” Richard shrugged. “I will not be anyone's pawn any longer."
"I can respect that." The cool steel of a gun muzzle pressed into his cheek. "Just never test me like that, because I won't hesitate, orders or no."
Richard believed him.
"Way to put Richard at ease, Jack." Beth's voice dripped with sarcasm. "You’ve got amazing people skills."
"Just calling it as I see it, Beth. You two can go through."
Richard made a note to avoid that man at all costs as Beth guided him from the room.
***
"There are just one or two more items which require resolution first." Nash’s face was pulled taught in a pathetic attempt to flash a sincere smile. They sat around a large table in the cold cement floored area that passed as a conference room. A modern, land-line phone rested in front of the doctor.
“I see.” Richard cast a sidelong glance at Beth to his right.
"If you wouldn’t mind transferring over the rest of the funds." Nash pushed the telephone towards him.
“Before I do this, I have one last request.” Richard raised his left hand to reveal the Department’s tracking bracelet. "Would you please get this thing off me?"
Anger flashed across Nash’s features, but he quickly mastered it. He sat back, rubbing his bald spot with one hand as if that aided his thought process. Finally, his expression relaxed.
“I can certainly understand that.” He pressed an intercom button on the table.
"This is Nash. Have Dan report to the conference room with his tools."
"Right away." The woman's voice sounded pinched but professional over the phone’s speaker.
Five minutes later the door opened quietly and the hippy looking individual Richard had seen in the community room entered. His dirty-blond hair fell to his shoulders in a tangled mess as if he had slept on it for a week and had never gotten around to combing it. His narrow face ended in the point of his long nose and his beady eyes glowed with intelligence. He wore a purple and white tie-dyed shirt, a pair of old jeans with holes in the knees and a pair of cork sandals. He carried a metal box that was so heavy it nearly pulled him to the ground. Its weight was countered by the heavy duffel bag slung over his opposite shoulder.
He dropped his box next to Richard’s chair, slipped the duffel off his shoulder onto the table and extended his right hand.
"I'm Dan."
"So I gathered." Richard shook the proffered hand. Of all the personnel he had met here in their vault, Dan was the only one who looked the way Richard imagined an activist would look.
"So, you want to get this freakin' dog collar off or what?" He motioned to the bracelet.
Richard looked at the manacle on his arm and remembered the night he had been tagged. Agents, dressed in white radiation suits had strapped him to a table in a small metal room, and then circled around him like buzzards. Frederick had appeared before him, grinning like a cat that has just swallowed a canary. He had attached the tracking bracelet himself.
“You okay?” Dan tapped him on the shoulder.
“Yes.” His eyes stung. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Step one to his emancipation was at hand.
"All right, man.” Dan smiled warmly. “Hold real still." He retrieved two heavy gloves from his bag and put them on, and then he grabbed a long metal spray canister.
Nash stood up.
"I think I'll sit this one out in the other room."
"What's the matter Doc, don't trust me?" Dan grinned.
"Accidents happen." Nash continued to smile as he strode out of the room.
"How about you, Beth?" Dan turned to her.
"I’m staying.” Beth smiled grimly.
"All right, Richard. Hold your arm over this box." Dan opened the top of the container revealing a heavily insulated bomb storage device.
Richard wondered how much protection it could offer against an explosive as he stretched his arm forward. The stainless-steel circlet glinted dully in the fluorescent light. He thought, not for the first time, that the Department had designed it to resemble silver on purpose. Several lights glowed green on the shackle. As long as the light remained green, he would be all right. If, however, it turned red, then two seconds later the explosives would detonate, killing him and most likely Dan too.
He swallowed.
Dan smiled grimly. "Showtime." He retrieved a canister from the bag and positioned it over the locking mechanism on the bracelet.
Richard held his breath. Step one to his emancipation was about to begin.
Dan pressed the button. A narrow spray of white mist ejected from the can into the bracelet. After almost minute he stopped, dropping the can back into his bag and retrieving a small hammer and chisel. He propped the chisel into the crack where the two halves of the bracelet met.
"Here we go. One…two…three…" He brought the hammer down.
Richard gasped as the bracelet popped open. It turned over in midair, falling as if in slow motion end over end. It landed in the metal box and Dan slammed the lid shut.
“Done.”
Joy carried Richard’s slowly beating heart and his tainted soul skyward. The circle that had begun so long ago was complete and what would come next was no longer written in stone. He laughed suddenly, tears slipping from his eyes.
"Another one bites the dust." Dan wiped the sweat from his brow.
"Thank you. I will not forget this." Richard ran his hand along the smooth expanse of his arm.
Dan nodded. "It's nothing, man. Glad I could help." He started to gather his things.
“I’m happy for you, Richard.” Beth stood up on her toes and kissed his cheek.
Richard frowned.
"What is it?" She blinked.
"Nothing. I am fine." He blushed. “Thank you, Beth. Thank you for everything.”
A dark concern crept into his mind as he remembered the second tracking device and the poison. If he could get them to remove the bracelet, then he might also be able to take care of his other problems before Frederick could put his plans into motion. If….
***
"Well, now that you are a free man so to speak, let’s get things moving." Nash had returned to the room the instant Dan had vacated. He motioned to the phone.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" Richard stopped rubbing his bare wrist and fixed Nash with a stern gaze.
"For the love of god, what!" Nash leaned forward and placed his knuckles on the conference table. Blotches of red colored his cheeks and his ever-present smile slipped away.
"I want to see Radovan. That was our agreement." Richard held his ground.
"Listen to me, Richard.” Nash's mouth twitched as if he were trying to take hold of his smile again but could not do it. He stopped trying after a moment and allowed his face to darken. “I am tired of playing games!"
"So am I, Doctor!” Richard got to his feet.
Nash slowly composed himself. “I can see that there is not going to be any negotiation on this point. All right.” He took a breath. “I’m Radovan.”
“You?” Beth beat Richard to it. Her smile slipped and her
eyes grew distant. There was an underlying tension in her that Richard could not fully explain. He made a note to question her later.
“That’s right.”
Richard scrutinized him for a moment. There was some truth behind the man’s statement, and yet, something about it did not quite seem right.
“There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?” Richard prodded.
“Isn’t there always?” Nash countered. “I am the leader of this organization. I am Vincent Radovan and that’s all I’m going to tell you. Now, you can either accept that and work with us, or you can reject it and leave. It’s up to you.”
Richard nodded. There was little else he could do and he was certain that he would get nothing else from the man.
“Good.” Nash nodded. “Then all you need to do is transfer the rest of the money into our account and we can begin testing immediately. The faster we get this preliminary stuff out of the way, the better."
Richard’s stomach knotted as he realized that he was ready to make a commitment to them. Perhaps they really did want to help. It hardly mattered, though with Frederick pulling his strings. He had discovered the answer to Frederick’s question and all he had to do was turn Nash over to him and he would be saved. There were only two problems: he could not risk having Beth come to harm and he doubted Frederick would keep his word. He swallowed and then forced himself to smile. These people were his only chance.
"Very well, I will transfer the money you have requested immediately." He reached for the phone.
***
"There’s your computer." Beth swept one arm across the room and pointed at the desk that had been wedged up against the crumbled wall along the back left of the room. It was an old metal thing covered with rust, but the thin laptop appeared to be state of the art.
Ignoring the technology, Richard cast a nervous glance at the bricks and dirt behind his bed and sat on the mattress. It was comfortable, certainly better than the bed he had at his apartment. He looked up at Beth. For a moment, their eyes locked and he saw that flash of concern again.
"Is something wrong?" Perhaps she suspected his connection with Frederick. His breath nearly caught in his throat.
“Nash is Radovan.” She frowned. "I just can’t bring myself to believe it.”
“Yes, it does seem odd.” Nash did not seem the type of man to lead a rogue organization.
Richard followed her gaze and noticed what had to be a new camera wedged against the end of one cracked wooden beam. Beth might have more to tell him, but she was clearly concerned that others might hear. He looked back at her and nodded his understanding.
"Okay, Richard. The Doc will be sending someone to take a blood sample soon. I'll let you have some time to yourself." She motioned to the heavy metal door. "Nash has posted a guard outside for your safety."
“Of course.” Richard did not know who they were protecting him from, but it was always possible everyone in their organization was not who they seemed.
"Good. You won't regret this." She headed for the door. As she did so, the light caught her pendant.
Richard remembered….
19
Richard's eyes snapped open and he screamed, sitting up in the small bed with speed born of desperation. Slivers of daylight shone through the slats in the shutters providing enough light in the small hovel to let him know that he was alone. Images of the prior evening filled his mind. His face flushed at the memory of Colette's naked form draped over him as they moved in perfect rhythm against one another. The image fragmented, shattering like a mirror as he remembered the red glow of her eyes and the pain as her teeth had torn into him.
He frantically felt his neck, but found only unmarred skin there. He raised an eyebrow. That part of his evening had to have been a nightmare. Yes, a nightmare brought on by the wounds he had suffered at the hands of his enemies. He shook the cobwebs from his head and laughed at his foolishness. There were no such things as demons, or at least if there were, he doubted that they would ever reveal themselves to the likes of him. No, it had to be his injury. At the thought, he realized that the pain in his thigh had abated. Throwing back the covers, he realized that he was wearing only his breech cloth and the bandages around his leg. Despite feeling vulnerable, he took a moment to examine his leg beneath.
He gasped. The skin was healing nicely, far faster than he would have thought possible. Whatever she had put in her poultice certainly had excellent healing power. Without her help, he surely would have died. He owed her a great deal for that. He owed her more for filling him with such joy, such passion….
He slowly climbed out of bed and discovered, to his surprise that his clothes lay neatly folded and completely mended on top of his mail shirt in the corner. He quickly dressed, strapping on his sword but leaving the armor where it was. He opened the door.
The sun was nearing the western hills, but it was still high enough to bath him in its warm glow. He realized that he had not seen the golden orb since he had been wounded weeks before. His exhaustion had caused him to sleep the days away since Colette had brought him there. Stepping out into the middle of the clearing, he spread his arms wide and basked in the sunlight. He breathed deeply as a cool breeze brought with it the scent of lavender and lilacs he had come to associate with Colette. His body tingled slightly with the memory of her hair against his face.
Forcing himself to focus on more mundane matters, he wondered where his benefactor was. He had no idea what she did during the daylight hours. Even if she had no lord to keep company, she was still a baroness and presumably had lands and people to care for.
Somewhere to the west he could hear the burbling waters of a small brook. A narrow game trail led into the thick underbrush between a stand of tall oaks, heading off towards the water. Realizing that he was parched, Richard headed down the trail and into the darkness of the forest. What small amount of light managed to penetrate the thick canopy of intertwined branches overhead cast long shadows against the ground. A comforting silence hung over the wood, as if even the squirrels tread with reverence around the ancient trees. The trail wound its way through, emerging at the top of a small embankment. The brook had cut a small ravine in the forest floor. On the far side, a grassy clearing offered a peaceful resting place.
He slowly made his way down the embankment, found a goodly-sized, moss-covered stone on which he could lay flat, and cupped his hands to gather up some water. It was as clean as he had imagined, filling him with its purity and leaving him satisfied. He drank until he could hold no more and then pushed himself up to a sitting position. He realized that he was not alone.
He sprang into a crouch, drawing his sword in one smooth motion. Four men in dark green cloaks stood with bows drawn and pointed in his direction. He did not recognize any of them. He tensed, prepared to make a run for the woods behind him, but realized that he would never reach cover before they pierced him with their arrows.
"What do you want of me?" He gripped his sword hilt so tightly that his fingers began to tingle. Behind the men, the last slivers of sunlight vanished as dusk fell upon the land. The sky above the clearing took on that deep blue color that heralds the coming of true night, but it was still not dark enough for him to evade them. Not yet.
"The same thing I wish."
Richard's heart rose at the sound of Terrence's voice. His second-in-command had found him at last. The tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out from behind an old maple near the bowmen. Even in the fading light, his brightly polished mail shirt glinted. He ran a hand through his dark hair and fixed him with his dark-eyed stare. He was not smiling.
Richard lowered his sword, amused by his friend's use of the bowmen. "Oh, I see. You wish to scare me. An excellent jest, my friend."
"You were not supposed to survive the ambush, Richard. When Lord Humphrey and the rest of my men failed to return, I grew concerned." Terrence drew his sword and sneered. "I found them all dead along with some of your own knights and yet here I find you, alive and
unscathed."
Richard's mirth died in his throat. The ambush suddenly made sense. Terrence had betrayed him. He gritted his teeth, biting back the anger that threatened to consume him and make him an easy target for whatever they had planned.
"Traitor.” Richard's voice sounded cold, dispassionate even to himself.
"It was you joined that dog William." Terrence's lip curled. “You who subverted us in favor of the Normans.
Richard shook his head, unable to believe his ears. "You were with me when King Harold died. You know how pointless a continued struggle would have been. The Normans would have slaughtered every one of us had I not taken action."
"I am not talking about Hastings," Terrence spat. "You swore an oath to an enemy who knows nothing of honor and you would not break it when many of our Saxon brothers rebelled against him!"
"Theirs was a hopeless cause. We cannot defeat the Normans. I have saved our people by joining with them." Richard forced himself to breathe, conscious of the arrows still trained on him.
Mist rose from the brook, spreading icy tendrils outwards in every direction. Goose bumps rose on Richard's arms. There was something strangely familiar about the damp feel of the air.
"Coward!" Terrence sliced the air with his sword in emphasis. "It is time you were held accountable for your treachery!" He pointed his blade at Richard and five more armored men stepped out of the trees. He could not tell who they were through their helmets but their mail shirts matched Terrence’. No doubt he knew at least some of them.
"It doesn’t have to be this way." A sudden calm settled over Richard as he realized that he was about to die.
"Archers! Do not loose until my command. The rest of you draw swords." Terrence never took his eyes from Richard. He smiled wolfishly. "Good-bye, my friend."
The breeze picked up, carrying the thick fog up and out of the ravine and into the clearing. Richard barely had time to note the unusual density of the mist before it obscured his enemies from his sight. He offered a prayer to God and threw himself aside.
