Chapter Twenty-seven
As the next sunset arrived, a wave of activity commenced at the ruins. First the crypts were brought out of the caverns and loaded within standard twenty-foot shipping containers that were on four trucks that awaited them.
Dimitri and his men waited in the now-emptied area. Each of them had been given a box for personal belongings. Dimitri busied himself by picking some books from the library. He had so many favorites he was unsure which to take.
"We leave our home,” Josip said, breaking the silence. “For more than a hundred years, this has been our place within our country."
"We do not have a choice in the matter, but what of it?” Dimitri asked “Is not one place like another? Besides, were you not saying that you were getting bored?"
"But this is not of our volition and we shall not be free to do as we choose."
"Stop complaining. You are like an old woman at times,” Dimitri countered. “Remember what I said: Watch and learn. We will find our freedom in the new land. In America, there are no wars, no constant battering of the countryside by forces. They have large cities with many people who—"
The sound of footsteps approaching interrupted their conversation. Commander Reese and another man entered their room.
"Are you ready?” Reese asked.
"We are,” Dimitri responded, as he tossed a final handful of books into his bag.
"Before we go,” Reese began, “let me reassure you and your men that every precaution has been taken to prevent your escape or your attack, either physical or mental. When we leave here, each of you will be placed inside a steel container that has your crypt inside of it. That is where you shall remain for the next twelve to fourteen hours. There are video cameras inside to monitor your movements. Any attempt to leave the container shall result in the activation of the devices at your necks. Each container will be guarded by two men who are backed up by another team."
"We will be no problem,” Dimitri said, as other men carrying weapons, spraying devices and shiny machetes attached to their belts arrived.
"You will be escorted out one at a time."
"We have not met you formally,” Dimitri said, looking towards the other man.
"This is Lieutenant Johnson. He is in charge of the men, the Navy SEALs who will be escorting and guarding you."
"Our captor and keeper,” Dimitri said bowing his head slightly. “Thank you, Commander Reese, for the introduction. I sense that we will be spending much time together in the future. I thought it appropriate that we be introduced."
Johnson stared coldly at the creature while Reese stared cautiously at Dimitri; he had much to learn about these creatures, but he also remembered from his studies that they had elevated conversation as distraction to a high art. There would be plenty of time later to develop some kind of understanding to further his studies. There was so much that he wanted to know about their pasts, but now they had to leave.
"Enough pleasantries for now,” Reese said. “Johnson, get them moving."
Johnson issued orders to his men. Each vampire was escorted out, one at a time, into the cool night air and placed inside the shipping container. Dimitri came last and glanced skyward at the night sky, carefully noting the constellations for what may be his last time from his country. In his thoughts, he said his farewell to his teacher and master, Alexander.
Good-bye old friend, we travel to whatever fate awaits us in the land they call America. But I have not forgotten your teachings or the search for the ultimate truth in our existence.
The steel door of the shipping container closed and the trucks drove off into the night.
* * * *
The loading of the aircraft went as planned and within an hour they lifted off from the runway in Skopje, Macedonia and headed for Norfolk, Virginia. All cargo and passengers were safely tucked onboard the massive aircraft with continual monitoring of the containers that held the creatures.
Every person that had been involved in the operation was on the plane. Reese wondered what the debriefing would consist of, and although not an operator, he suspected it was more of a security concern than an informational exchange.
The creatures settled in their containers in a very human way, showing no adverse effects. The containers were supplied with battery-powered lights in order for the cameras to maintain surveillance. Reese was amused and somewhat surprised as he observed them become absorbed in whatever reading material they had brought with them; just as any normal person would do, he thought.
So much to learn. So much to understand. Reese decided to try and rest. Their flight would be approximately twelve hours and with the time change, they should arrive under cover of darkness for transference to their new quarters that had been arranged by SOCOM on the Little Creek Amphibious Naval Base.
But instead of sleeping, he found himself contemplating all that had been accomplished in the past seventy-two hours since his arrival. It amazed him how relatively smooth everything had gone, with the exception of the three deaths. He had already seen the press release of the dead SEALs because Johnson had worked with SOCOM on the verbiage. Personal notifications to the next of kin were completed; it was downplayed as a regrettable training accident. There would be an investigation, but it would be under the cognizance of SOCOM so the results would be assured in the end. Reese was saddened the families would never know the truth of their deaths.
Having the resources in-country and committed people made it possible. It made him reflect what authority could do in the military without having to answer to the constant oversight of various other organizations as long as everything went okay and the information was contained as it had been in this case. SOCOM was a dark command that did not fall under the constraints that the other geographical commanders did; they hid behind the curtain of national security and other convenient methods similar to those used by the CIA.
"Mind some company?” Johnson asked. He stood in the aircraft aisle, his physical appearance similar to Reese's. He looked tired, but was unable to sleep.
"Sure,” Reese answered, as Johnson slipped into the seat next to him.
"It's going smooth so far."
"Yes, surprisingly enough."
The two men fell into a brooding silence of unasked questions for several minutes. Finally Johnson ventured one.
"What is going to happen to the creatures?"
"We get back to Norfolk and find out,” Reese answered.
"No that's not what I asked. What do you think is going to happen?"
"I ... I'm not actually sure,” Reese said.
"Not sure or can't say?"
"Don't know."
"No ideas at all?” Johnson asked. “I have some. You want to hear?"
"Sure,” Reese said, although inside he really did not want to for fear of resurrecting his own doubts.
"These creatures ... are supposed to possess some interesting characteristics that would be of interest to the military. Don't you think?"
"Sure, if the legends are true,” Reese admitted.
"Suppose for a minute, they are true."
"All right,” Reese agreed, “go ahead."
"Number one: We study the physical makeup to determine what makes them work and ascertain if those factors can be duplicated."
"Sounds logical."
"Number two: Destroy these creatures once we have created our own."
"Keep going.” Reese felt the inevitable option coming that he suspected was the true purpose of capturing the creatures.
"Number three: Examine the possibility of using the creatures to perform in a certain way as to benefit us."
"Have them do the dirty work, you mean?"
"Something like that,” Johnson said. “The ultimate killing machines as long as you keep them fed ... and why not let them feed on the victims? A perfect symmetry."
"Kill two birds with one stone,” Reese added, but quickly regretted his analogy. “All of this is purely speculative thinking on our part, right
?"
"Of course,” Johnson said.
"Don't you think that there would be a particular morality issue with this line of thought?"
"Morality?” Johnson asked with a perplexed look on his face. “Who says that the military needs morality? Not me. Changing times call for unique actions. Bottom line is to get the job done and everything ... everything is expendable when it comes to that. Besides, think about it from a military standpoint. Would you mess with a country that had control of creatures like these?"
"Good point,” Reese agreed. “But if another country knew, then it might become known to the public."
"I don't think so,” Johnson argued. “Could you see our military claiming that some vampires from Russia or something attacked us? Hard to swallow and no flag officer in his right mind would ever make that claim if he wanted to remain on active duty."
Reese exhaled. “You realize what we are talking about will never be known outside of a very exclusive group?"
"Sure,” Johnson said, following Reese's line of thought. “It would all appear as if no one could be involved in something as crazy as all this. Sounds like we are writing some science fiction story, huh?"
"Yeah,” Reese said. “Some crazy stuff, but you know what?"
"What?"
"Who the hell would have ever thought that the damn creatures ever existed?"
"Who says they exist, Commander?"
Reese stared at him, searching for the meaning to his statement.
"After the debriefing,” Johnson said, “I have a feeling that they won't. In fact, I would be willing to bet that the entire mission never happened."
Johnson looked at Reese with his usual emotionless expression that indicated the subject was closed.
"We should try and get some sleep while we can,” Johnson said. He lay back in his seat and closed his eyes.
Reese stared at him before he reclined in his own seat. He thought of General Stone and wondered about the note again. His capture of the creatures made him a direct part of whatever happened and from this point on if they were used as Johnson had suggested, he would be as guilty as the creatures themselves.
Johnson stirred from his supposed rest and turned toward Reese.
"Sweet dreams, Commander,” he said.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Commander Scott arrived on the quarterdeck of the Naval Special Warfare Group Two Building on the Naval Amphibious Base in Virginia Beach, Virginia; the largest base of its kind and the major operating station for the amphibious forces of the United States Atlantic Fleet.
The base, comprised of more than nine thousand acres that includes four locations in three states, was home to thirty ships. In addition, the base itself contained seventy-five tenant commands that resided on the property; some were supporting units while others were operational and dealt with amphibious operations. One of the tenants, the Commander Naval Special Warfare Group Two, was comprised of the Coastal Patrol Craft, Special Boat Units and the Navy SEAL Teams.
Scott was escorted into the Group Two Commander's office. Navy Captain John Foster impatiently awaited his arrival at this early hour of the morning. Foster was a lean and tall man, forty-eight years of age, and destined to never make admiral, or at least that is what the general had said. But Scott was ordered to not indicate that in any way: Stone needed Foster to make the preparations and if things went bad, Captain Foster could be used as a patsy to take the blame as Stone shored up his own position.
"Captain Foster,” Scott said, as he extended his hand.
"Commander Scott, welcome to Little Creek. Please have a seat."
Scott sat in the plush leather chair opposite the captain's desk.
"Commander, I have to admit the general has had us jumping through some big hoops in the past forty-eight hours."
Scott detected the anxiety in the man's voice. Stone had indeed made some big demands on short notice. “Yes, sir, I apologize for the general. I can assure you that it is of the utmost importance."
"There's a new line I haven't heard before. Whenever someone needs something done in a hurry, they throw buzz words out at you that don't mean a damn thing."
"Captain, I'm sure the general—"
"We have just about everything ready,” Foster said, ignoring Scott's assurance that Stone understood what he had to go through. Foster continued, “Now tell me what this is all about."
"Sir, we appreciate your efforts, but at the moment, until the general gives the green light, I can't say anything more than what you have already been told."
"I'd like to say I understand, Commander, but I have a right to know what is going on."
"Yes, sir, but please understand my position—"
"The hell with it,” Foster scoffed. His voice became more friendly and conciliatory. “I know you have your orders. I just hope the general has a good memory when my name comes up before the board for admiral. I'm sure he may have some influence there."
"I know the general thinks highly of you, sir,” Scott lied. “That is why he knew he could call on you for this important task."
"I'll take that for a yes."
"Yes, sir ... and thank you,” Scott said, relieved the other man was dropping the subject.
"Here's what we have.” Foster stood and walked to a large wall map of the base. “We have selected an old building that is not in use at the far end of the base.” He pointed to a red square marked on the map. “It only has one road for access and if you're not going to the building you have no reason to be on it, so it's easy to guard. The building is old but still in good shape, built in 1945 when the base was commissioned. It has three-foot thick cinderblock walls, no windows, and a roof made of the largest timbers I have ever seen.
"Dimension-wise, it has about seven thousand square feet, plenty of room for what you need. High-security doors have been installed and monitoring cameras have been put throughout the building and are controlled from a main control room. The natural layout of the interior is about evenly divided into living and working spaces and has been furnished. A high security fence, electrified and wired at the top, has also been installed. It circles the entire circumference of the area."
"How about visibility from a distance?” Scott asked.
"Blocked by the woods. You would never know the place is there from any outward sign."
"Great.” Scott was pleased with how everything was shaping up so far. “What about the other building requirement?"
"You weren't serious about that, were you? About the stable and barn?"
"Ah ... yes, sir. We were.” Scott said, as his good feeling began to fade.
"I thought you were kidding about that, like the old expression ... you know, when someone asks for a lot, they usually end up with the ‘you may as well throw in the barn with it while you're at it.’ You have heard that expression before, haven't you?"
"No, sir,” Scott said coldly.
"You've been with the general too long, lost your sense of humor.” Foster paused as he saw the expression of worry on Scott's face. “Relax, Commander, as fate would have it, the other reason why we chose this area was because that was where they had the horse stables on base. They're on the backside of the building. They've been empty for years, but we repaired the major problems and are finishing up some minor repairs. We'll have it ready by this evening."
The color returned to Scott's face as he breathed a sigh of relief. “Just one last thing before we go out and take a look. How about the cattle?"
"There are a half-dozen cows out there now. You wouldn't believe what I had to go through to get them,” he said, exasperated. “Can you see me trying to write a justification to purchase cattle? I'm not even going to tell you where I got them from ... I'll be damned if I'm going to jail for buying damn cattle. What the hell are you guys going to do anyway, have one hell of a cookout?"
"Not exactly, sir, but if they do, you can be sure you will be invited,” Scott said, trying to add a little humor to his tone.
> "I'd better be after all I've gone through,” Foster said, as he picked up the keys for a vehicle. “Let's go and take a look.” He took steps toward the door and stopped to look at Scott. “I won't forget, you know, about the barbecue. Probably going to be a lot of VIPs there. Wouldn't hurt my career to meet some of them."
Scott didn't say anything as Foster marched out of the room, but his thoughts drifted through his mind. This is one barbecue you don't want to go to, Captain, unless you want to be the meal.
[PAGEBREAK]
Chapter Twenty-nine
The vehicles moved smoothly from the runway at the Norfolk Naval Air Station toward the Naval Amphibious Base Little Creek, which was located less than thirty minutes away in the pre-dawn morning. Their convoy of three semi-trucks and six other associated vehicles would not attract any undue attention in the largest Naval community in the world. There was always an exercise going on, or ship battle groups coming and going at all hours of the night at anytime during the year.
As they approached the main gate to the base, Reese noticed Commander Scott from SOCOM waiting at the gate with the sentries. As the vehicle stopped, he jumped in alongside Reese.
"Welcome back,” he said, in an all-too-cheery voice that grated on Reese's tired disposition. “And congratulations on one hell of a job. The general is extremely pleased."
"Thanks,” Reese responded, but without enthusiasm. He was too tired to be enthusiastic at the moment. “Is he here?"
"Not yet, but he should be in a day or so,” Scott assured him. “He has some pressing issues up on the Hill, money matters."
"That's good. All of the men are worn out.” Reese said, as he rubbed his eyes.
"All the quarters are ready. The living quarters for all of you are within the same facility as the ... new team."
"We're going to be living there, too?” Reese asked, surprised. “I have my own place in Norfolk I would really like to see again."
"Give it some time. The general thought it imperative that the team be kept together for a while longer,” Scott said.
"How long is ‘a while?'” Reese asked.
Operation: Immortal Servitude From Declassified Files of Team of Darkness Page 14
