Then the sound of boots crunching on gravel came from below and a head moved into view at ground level. It was one of the attackers, moving away from the stable, rounding the side of the mansion at a brisk pace. I silently cursed myself. I had made noise getting up here—not a lot, I had been careful—but more noise than I should have given that one of the bad guys was standing outside. I was getting sloppy. I'd had no sleep for who knows how long and now I was making mistakes like some green FNG. I felt anger rising and fought to suppress the feeling. Getting pissed off wouldn't accomplish anything. What I needed was to get out of the grounds as quickly and quietly as possible and get to the rendezvous point. This whole situation was starting to get me tense.
The grounds of the manor had several ways in and out. The main gate would be the best guarded and, hence, the worst bet. I mentally ticked off various exits. West side, small gate, probably guarded and I would need to skirt the building. That would leave me exposed from far too many angles. East side, no gate, dirt road. Getting down that road would leave me more exposed than going west, and the road was visible from the main gate as well as from most of the house. South would work best. That way lay cover in the form of a loose screen of trees, then the larger stables, a tumbledown barn, and a low fence to climb. It seemed easy. A little too easy.
Something else occurred to me. The sound of sirens had utterly failed to rend the air with their wailing, despite the fire and gunshots. Either the police and fire brigade had not been called or they had been stood down. It didn't matter much because either way it was beneficial. The police would have had too many inconvenient questions leading to uncomfortable answers.
I scanned what I could see through the two openings, keeping back in the shadows, moving around as much as possible to see as much as I could. All of the activity seemed to be centered on the front of the house. I'd rather wait until dark but that seemed about as likely as a getting a ride out with Elvis. As far as I could see it was clear. The ridiculous camouflage jacket went behind a bale of hay. There wasn't much I could do about the trousers but hopefully, at a quick glance, I wouldn't stand out too much. I lowered myself from the edge of the loft and dropped into one of the stalls, landing on a bed of musty straw.
Slowly I made my way to the door and took a look outside. I had to move. I walked carefully across the manicured lawn. Movement attracts the eye, a running figure doubly so. I knew this but it didn't help much. My skin crawled as I walked, feeling naked and vulnerable, trying to project an image of nonchalance around me.
A set of stone steps led down to a garden full of flowers and artfully-trimmed hedges. A flagstone path led through a veritable forest of Greek-style statues, all of them either naked strapping young men doing athletic things or graceful women wearing togas that somehow failed to completely cover one or both of their perky stone breasts. I liked them because they did represent a little touch of cover. I maintained my casual, nothing-to-see-here walk all the way past the big carp pond at the end of the path and then under the cover of a row of trees.
I let out a relieved sigh. Scary stuff. All it would have taken was one alert, awake guard with a rifle and an itchy trigger finger and I would have been out of luck. I wasn't going to push my luck any further. I had no idea what we'd walked into at DeClerc's place but I wanted nothing to do with it. Time to get the hell out of town.
Picking through the trees was almost relaxing compared to the walk through the garden, but I still went slowly and carefully. I had no clear idea of how many of the invaders there were and, by now, they had to know that someone was out here still kicking. It would only be a matter of time before they headed this way.
It took me the best part of twenty minutes but eventually I made it through the trees and emerged by a fenced-in paddock. A long structure that ran along one side of the paddock, a large block of stables, currently uninhabited from what I could see. Someone who once owned the mansion had been a horse buff. This had probably been a riding school or a gymkhana club. Not any more, apparently. By the look of the tire tracks crisscrossing the paddock it was now used by someone who favored two wheels over four hooves and engines over equines.
That might be useful, actually, if the bikes were stored in the stables. And if their tanks were full. And if the keys were stored there, too. If—if—all those were true my imminent and much delayed departure might be arranged with a little more speed.
It took me another ten minutes to cautiously work my way around to the stables. There was nobody in sight. So far so good. And then it got better. The tack room at the end of the block of stables had been converted into a garage. Several off-road bikes, both the two- and three-wheeled varieties, were lined up, and the walls were hung with equipment. Helmets, protective jackets, knee pads, shin pads, hip pads. And there was a small wooden cabinet on the wall. The door to the cabinet was open and there inside, praise be to the gods of convenience, were row upon row of keys.
Somebody was really into dirt bikes. Somehow it was hard to picture vamps out dirt-hopping but there you go.
I picked out a helmet that looked like it would fit and took a quick glance outside. I softly cursed my luck. A pair of vampires were heading my way. These weren't looking bored or distracted. This pair was looking professional and alert. They were dressed like the other attackers, assault rifles held casually, heads and eyes moving. How these vamps were casually walking around in the sunshine I had no idea. It was cold and slightly overcast but these two should have been turning bright red out there. I had no time for a scientific investigation at this point. I moved back into the shadows and considered my options. If at all possible I wanted to get away without having to kill these two, if only because the gunfire would bring more inquisitive vamps. This probably wasn't the time to experiment but I pulled the KnightStar electrolaser and checked to make sure the safety was off. I kept my SIG in my right hand. If necessary I could just blast the pair if they came in here and the electrolaser failed to work as advertised. A large 6x6 vehicle—it looked like a civvy version of the Army's Supacat—provided enough cover and I crouched back in the shadows.
For several minutes I waited in the darkness, trying to breathe quietly and not move. Then the light coming in from the doorway flickered and I heard the soft tread of the two vamps coming into the stable. The two split up. One came towards me, towards the back of the stable, the other headed towards the smaller exit and stepped outside. As the one vamp approached I edged around the Supacat, keeping as low as I could. It seemed like an age, creeping through the darkness. The vamp had caught something—probably the scent of my sweat—and was moving cautiously himself. Eventually I crept up behind him. He was peering around behind a row of quad bikes. I centered the red dot of the stun-gun's laser sight on the vamp's back and squeezed the trigger. The results surprised me but shocked the hell out of the vamp—literally. There was a sharp crackle of electrical discharge and something like a couple of miniature lightning bolts slammed him in the back. The vamp convulsed. He didn't even manage to scream as every muscle in his body contracted at once. As soon as I released the trigger he collapsed to the floor like a bag of spuds. The gun hadn't been as noisy as a pistol but it hadn't been silent. I spun and shuffled behind the Supacat again as the second vamp came back in the door. I traced his footsteps as he threaded through the bikes towards me.
“Mike!” he hissed.
Not too bright. Sure, 'Mike' could have had an accident and knocked himself out but then what would be the point in calling his name?
As the vamp caught sight of his fallen compatriot he let out a gasp and I sprung up, the electrolaser firing. Like the first vamp he convulsed and hit the floor. I glanced down at the two prone vamps. Mike was stirring, regaining control of his limbs, so I gave him another burst and sent him back to la-la land. I couldn't really leave the two of them here. As soon as they were able to they'd raise the alarm.
The second vamp grunted quietly as I used my boot to flip him over onto his back. I took a deep
breath and knelt next to his head, my commando knife in my hand. He barely twitched as the sharp blade passed through his windpipe and scraped against bone. It took me only a few seconds of probing to find the gap between two vertebrae and slice through his spinal column. I dispatched Mike in the same manner.
Then I took a few seconds to take a look at the pair. Their skin was slick and slightly sticky to the touch. They were wearing sunscreen, the bastards, and this was way above the stuff which would normally be on sale to the public. In order to protect the vamp from the sun's effects for any length of time the SPF would have to be astronomical but this whatever they were wearing would be proof for a little while. This actually pissed me off. Vamps were supposed to be stuck in the seventeenth century, not using modern chemistry to overcome their failings. It just wasn't playing fair. If the vamps were no longer imprisoned by the sun what was the point in humanity being afraid of the dark?
I guess there was the slight irony in DeClerc being attacked by vamps using a development of the very product that he'd gotten rich selling but that was cold comfort.
I didn't waste any time feeling bad about killing two helpless vamps. It was me or them and it sure as shit wasn't going to be me.
I made my way back over to the bike I'd picked out. It was a modified Kawasaki with high exhausts, a big tank, and huge knobbly tires. A real scrambler. The tank was full, the keys were in the ignition and I was ready to go. I kicked up the stand and, after a cautious look around, wheeled the bike outside. I moved down the line of stables and out into the forest before climbing aboard the bike and jumping on the kick starter. The bike's engine clattered into life. I was prepared to sacrifice stealth for speed at this point so I gunned the engine and roared off down a handy dirt track.
The path might have been, under other circumstances, quite picturesque. The ground was dry and firm. The weak sunlight streamed through the trees, turning the surroundings into a pleasant, dappled view.
At least, that's what I thought it would have looked like. Everything was pretty much a blur as I thrashed the little scrambler as hard as I could.
The trees thinned out and I shot into a field. It was wide and sunlit and, apart from the Humvee bouncing across the grass, was as pleasant as the forest had been.
The Humvee took off towards me. It was painted in a dull green paint scheme which made it look suitably military and threatening. I skidded around in a wide turn and took off uphill, putting as much distance as possible between myself and the big 4x4. The engine screamed as I crested the hill and sped down the other side. Behind me I could hear the roar of the Humvee's big engine, disturbingly close. I didn't bother looking behind me because I needed every ounce of concentration to avoid trees and roots. Besides, there was nothing I could see behind me that would make me go faster than I already was.
The bike slid out briefly, the back wheel skidding across some loose dirt and stones, before I kicked it back upright and surged ahead, through a screen of trees, into a second clearing, and very nearly under the wheels of a second Humvee.
I was beginning to take this personally.
A twitch of the handlebars sent the bike in what was supposed to be an agile jink around the lumbering 4x4. Instead the back wheel let go again. I over-corrected, corrected and managed to get the bike upright again. I had just managed to dodge a rock the size of my head when I hit a tree root. The front wheel stopped dead, the back wheel went up, I went over the handlebars and hit the ground with the sickening crunch of broken bone. A grenade of pain when off in my left arm and my head slammed into the grass.
CHAPTER
43
“He's here?” I asked incredulously.
It had taken a while to get to a phone. We had moved a few exits up the Interstate and pulled off to the side of the road. Kyle thought I was being paranoid but I wanted to make the call from outside of Prescott county. If I could keep the Sheriff out of this as much as possible I would feel much better. As it was I'd had to leave the two Deputies and Kyle's car back along the road a little way and walk to the service station where I'd made the call, just in case it had CCTV cameras.
“Yes, ma'am,” said the voice on the other end of the phone. It was a cold, impersonal, female voice that stated everything in a matter-of-fact way. “But the most important thing at the moment is to get you to the Embassy as quickly as possible. Now your best bet is to get to the Consulate-General in Atlanta. That's the closest to you. Unless you want to try for the main Embassy in Washington DC. Either way, once we get you on Embassy territory we can help you, we can get you home.”
“I was kidnapped and brought to this country against my will,” I said through gritted teeth. “Why can't you help me now?”
“Because of Hunter Henderson,” replied the voice smoothly. “His presence in this country has placed the Crown in a very delicate position. The Crown cannot be involved with his illegal activities in any way. If, however, you come to the Embassy it would be a different matter altogether.”
“Where did Jack go?” I asked.
“We don't have that information,” she replied acidly. “Of course, the Crown is cooperating with law enforcement in locating him, per our treaties and agreements, but at the moment we have no idea where he and his team are. They have had no contact with us.”
I was almost certain that she wasn't supposed to have let that slip. Jack was here, sure. I could see that. But the team? Really? How had he managed to persuade them to come with him?
“Ma'am?”
“Yeah, I hear you,” I replied. “I'll be in touch.”
I hung up the phone and walked away, thoughtfully. The woman on the phone hadn't needed to tell me that Jack had brought the team with him. They could have waited until they got me to the Embassy or even told me once I was on the way home. It may not seem like much but the excess information had set my nose twitching. I smelled more than I could see, and I smelled the ministry.
I might be deluding myself but I got the strong impression that I was supposed to contact Jack and let him know I was okay before he did too much damage or brought too much embarrassment to the government. Having done so I could contact the Embassy, get taken home through the normal channels, and Jack could slip away the same way he had come, nobody the wiser.
And now I knew John and Anna were here. That also told me that I had a way to contact them. I had no idea if a cellphone from the UK would even work in the US but John would find a way around it. At the very least he would make sure he could still get his e-mail.
All I had to do was contact John and we would have a way out of this mess. A quick way out. My pace quickened as I rounded a corner and approached what Terry had called 'The best mom and pop burger joint in the state.'
I had left Kyle and the others in the car park. Kyle was now sitting on the bonnet of his car, talking animatedly with Terry and the Deputies and I felt a stab of remorse. None of them had asked for it but simply by helping me they were in danger. We're werewolves. Werewolves tend to stick together, especially against vampires, but even so. It was a great feeling, meeting people who were prepared to help despite the horrible risk. I'd signed up for the mortal danger but they hadn't. It had been brought to their doorstep and I would do everything in my power to take it away again.
Kyle saw me and waved, grinning broadly. Everyone else turned and gave me some smiles. I stifled a sigh and smiled back.
“How did it go?” asked Terry.
“It was interesting,” I replied.
I quickly explained the entire conversation and my impressions and conclusions.
Terry frowned.
“I'm not sure if we'll be able to call your friend here, but if he's as good as you say he'll be able to get his e-mail, no problem,” he said. “Should be real easy.”
Terry quickly set me up with an anonymous e-mail account with his smartphone and I entered John's e-mail address. I added Anna's and Jack's too, just in case. Then I sent:
Old friend looking to hook up. Let
me know
what you guys are up to these days.
-Scrapper.
“Scrapper?” asked Terry when I passed the phone back to him.
“Back in the early days of the ministry everyone got a code name,” I explained. “That's how Jack became Pagan. By the time I joined the code names had become pretty much redundant so hunters got nicknamed by their final instructor instead. Jack named me. Said it was because I fought for my spot on his team.”
“You mean you guys don't use those code names all the time?” Kyle asked.
“No, Scrapper's not even official,” I replied.
“Man, that's just another thing the show got wrong,” he said glumly.
“Well, you didn't think it was a documentary, did you?” said Terry.
“You mind if we continue the discussion sitting down?” said Aiden, directing a meaningful glance towards the diner.
“You're hungry?” said Natasha. “Big surprise, there.”
“Hey, the smell has been driving me crazy,” he said.
I had to say, the place was making my mouth water. The not-so-subtle scent of a wood-fired grill mixed with the heady aroma of cooked meat in a way that appealed directly to my taste buds.
Renegade (Ministry of Paranormal Research & Defence) Page 16
