Operation: Immortal Servitude From Declassified Files of Team of Darkness

by Tony Ruggiero

  Stone weighed two hundred ten pounds and was moving with good momentum at the figure. He fully expected to topple his attacker and gain the advantage. But when he was within arms reach of the figure, he was brought to an abrupt stop by the attacker's outstretched arms, which felt like steel girders. He tried to bat the arms that grasped him by his shoulders, but they didn't budge. Stone's immediate and reflexive defensive action kicked in. He used his legs to try and kick out and even break his attacker's legs. This too was ineffective. Stone fought to keep his fear at bay, but he knew it was time for last-ditch efforts.

  Stone drew back his head and brought it forward in an attempt to head butt his attacker, hoping that he would not knock himself unconscious. He felt a solid hit with his head and was able to fight off the sensation to pass out from the blow. He felt confidant that the blow had been sufficient and for a brief instant he thought he would be successful. But his attackers grip didn't falter. That was when Stone knew he would most likely die in the next few moments if he didn't break free.

  Turning his head toward one of the arms of his attacker, he jerked his head toward the arm and bit into it with all the strength he could muster. He knew what blood tasted like: he had successfully tried this maneuver in hand-to-hand combat training in his younger days. Blood has a very distinct taste to it: coppery, yet almost sweet, but still the human psyche requires some sort of preparation to the unnatural act of tasting it. He prepared himself as he bit down harder and harder. But when his mind registered the taste, it was nothing like he remembered. The taste that entered his mind was of such a rotten and putrid state that he was forced to release the grip of his teeth on the flesh and spit the blood out. He spat and spat, but the taste wouldn't go away.

  The attacker remained silent. One single thought went through Stone's mind. I'm going to die. With that realization, he no longer cared about anything else but to see the face of his executioner. It was a morbid act which he did not understand, but the motivation was clear. He stood only arms length away, yet the darkness that shrouded the figure in front of him still prevented him from getting a good look at his attacker's face. “Who are you? What are you?"

  Silence again. The attacker raised one arm and removed something from its face. As the shadow of the attacker's arm passed over its face, Stone saw the red glow of its eyes: his attacker had been wearing something over its eyes to hide the glow of them. Just like ... Stone couldn't help but laugh at the realization of what it was that he was facing.

  "You!” Stone cried, the spittle flying from his lips. “You—that Navy son-of-a-bitch lied when he said you were all dead. I should have guessed. He was a soft-hearted bastard. He thought I was abusing your kind. HA! You are meant for only one thing and you know it. You're a killer. A perfect killing machine. All you care about is death because without it—you will not survive. I gave you a purpose—to kill the dregs of society that poison the free world with their drugs. So what does he do? Stupid shit Navy Commander John fucking Reese sets you loose to kill ... me. Why? Does it give you pleasure to kill the one that enslaved you. Do you have feelings? This is so damn funny ... shit ... that it should be your kind. I made you what you are! You think getting rid of me will end it? You're in for a rude awakening my friend. There are more of you where you came from—remember that. It's already begun. I've outfoxed everyone! Make sure you tell Reese that. Yeah ... tell him and let's see how long he lasts this time. They will use your kind as well. You'll see ... you'll see."

  Stone stared into the eyes of his attacker. “What the hell are you waiting for? Just do it, damn it! You stupid son of a bitch! Have some respect for a servant of this country. I love my country and I shall die knowing that I did the right thing even if it included an unholy aberration such as the likes of y—"

  Everything suddenly went dark for Stone. The last conscious thought he had was a numbing, yet calming sensation on his neck, and the smell of something familiar. At first his mind told him it was what he had expected earlier, the smell of blood—but to Stone, it smelled like perfume. He smiled as he drifted toward death.

  * * * *

  Stone's attacker let his body fall to the floor. It was almost done. Following the instructions that had been given, the attacker picked up the collar and fastened it tightly around Stone's neck. Looking at the man with the collar caused a momentary smile to appear on the attackers face.

  We all have our burdens to bear, don't we? Your God bears the sins of the world on a cross, you bear the responsibility of a patriot by wearing a collar.

  The smile was quickly replaced with a more determined look as it pondered what Stone had said.

  There were others? What did this mean? And who was this other man that knew of it—this Navy Commander John Reese?

  No time for questions—not now. But these questions would be revisited later because they intrigued the attacker. There was something else yet to be done before the evening was over. General Stone's assistant, Commander Scott, also required a visit this evening to complete the puzzle and remove the obstacles.

  There will be others ... there always are. Some call them patriots, some call them threats. Was there really a difference? Perhaps...

  She finished what she had come to do.

  Chapter Sixty-two

  "Reese. John Reese. How the hell are you?” the voice said on the telephone.

  "Barkley? Is that you?” Reese asked, as he switched the phone to his other ear. “You son-of-a-bitch, it's good to hear from you!"

  Reese pictured Barkley in his mind and he felt himself smile. Barkley was good people.

  "Yeah, it's me,” Barkley said. “I'm working on the Army medical staff at the Pentagon. I'm in Norfolk on some business and I heard some news and thought about you, so I figured I'd give you a call. How long has it been?"

  "Hell, it's been about a few months. What news?” Reese asked.

  "You didn't hear about General Stone? It was in all the news, on television, the whole bit."

  "No. I've been busy working on my book, kind of wrapped up in it. So what are you talking about?"

  "He's dead. General Stone is dead."

  "Dead? What happened?” Reese asked.

  "They found him in his home yesterday."

  "I figured a man like that would never die. Too damn stubborn."

  "Yeah, I know what you mean.” Barkley agreed.

  "What did he die from?” Reese asked.

  "Are you sitting down? You're not going to believe this?"

  "Come on. Tell me."

  "Someone drained all the blood out of him."

  "What?” Reese sat down. No, this couldn't be happening. Why would they go after him?

  "You heard me. The blood was drained from his body."

  "You mean like vampires?"

  "Well, that's what it was made to look like."

  "What do you mean made to look like?"

  "The killer tried to make it look that way, but they found his blood in bottles at the killers’ home."

  "Damn!” Reese said. He found himself relaxing a little.

  "You haven't heard the best part yet,” Barkley teased.

  "What?"

  "They believe the killer was Commander Scott. They found his fingerprints at the general's home, so they went to his home to question him. They found the blood and Scott was dead too. He killed himself."

  "Jesus Christ."

  "Yeah, I understand the shit is really going to hit the fan."

  "Don't tell me there's more?"

  "You bet. Defense Investigative Agents are also pursuing that this may have been a hit sanctioned by the drug cartels. Even though they found Scott's suicide note saying that he had killed Stone and then himself, supposedly there are a lot of inconsistencies that debunk the suicide aspect."

  "Was there any reason given in the note?"

  "Just that he couldn't live what he and Stone had done on their last operation."

  "Uh-oh. Was anything mentioned about the vamp—"

  "
How about we do lunch?” Barkley asked, cutting Reese off abruptly.

  Reese knew Barkley had intentionally cut him off before he said anything about the team. “Sure. How about you come on over?"

  "Be there in ten minutes."

  As Reese waited for Barkley to arrive, he remembered the debriefing they had received when they disbanded the support team for the vampires. All matters related to their operations were classified as Top Secret. If divulged before the declassification period, they would be subject to arrest and possibly tried for treason. They all signed affidavits stipulating their understanding and abiding to these rules.

  Reese remembered another man that was there in a black nondescript suit. He was not introduced and said nothing during the entire debriefing, but it was the way he looked at them; a look that Reese would always remember...

  You can't run and you can't hide, fuck up and being tried for treason would be the least of your worries. And I will come for you. Remember that.

  The man was what they referred to as a “spook” in the intelligence community. He was the one that would come for you if you did something foolish with classified information. He was there as a subtle reminder to anyone that the government understood that just signing a piece of paper was sometimes not enough to keep someone from talking about what they were not supposed to.

  The doorbell rang, bringing Reese back to the present. He went to the front door and opened the door.

  "Sam, come on in,” Reese said, extending his hand.

  "Thanks,” Barkley said as he shook hands.

  "Well congratulations, Lieutenant Colonel Barkley,” Reese said, noticing the rank insignia on Barkley's uniform.

  "Thanks. It even amazed me. I was very junior in the selection process. I think working for the general had some fringe benefits, if you know what I mean. Either that or it was incentive to ensure I kept my mouth shut."

  "Nothing would surprise me anymore.” Reese said, as he closed the door.

  "Sorry to cut you off on the telephone like that,” Barkley said.

  "No. You were right. I almost slipped and said something over the phone. I should know better."

  They sat in his living room exchanging pleasantries for a few moments.

  "Well, let me get to the rest of the story,” Barkley began. “Apparently, all of the files regarding our expedition into hell with the Team are missing."

  "Missing?"

  "Well, that's the term I'm using. I don't think they ever kept any to begin with."

  "I think Stone probably hid more then we will ever imagine. And I don't think I want to know."

  "Yeah, me too."

  He felt a sense of relief that any files pertaining to that operation were either missing or non-existing. He sensed many times that the general was operating outside of any procedures or authorizations. Still, Reese couldn't help wondering about the man in the black suit at the debriefing.

  "There was one other odd thing about the murder that won't make it into the press?"

  "What?"

  "Stone's body was found wearing one of the collars."

  "The collars for the vampires? How the hell could that be?"

  "I don't know. I've been racking my brains over this for hours. I only made so many of those damn things. Do you have any ideas?"

  "Well ... no.” Reese knew there were no other collars. He had been sure of that. The only place that collar could have come from was Dimitri, Andre or Iliga. Was it revenge? One of the oldest and truest acts of humanity from these creatures? Was that the last thing that Dimitri had alluded to when they met in the bar?

  "Are you alright?” Barkley asked.

  "Yeah,” Reese said as he tried to think of something to say that Barkley would believe. As much as Reese liked Barkley, he wasn't absolutely sure what he would do if he suspected the creatures were alive. Worse yet, he didn't know how he would react to the fact that if Dimitri had killed Stone and Scott, which he probably did, would that make him an accomplice?

  "John?” Barkley said. “You look like you—"

  "Oh, sorry, I was thinking,” Reese said. “Do you remember when Josip was killed?"

  "When Idriz had saturated his blood with the elixir and tricked Josip into attacking him and biting him to revenge the death of his two daughters? I doubt I will ever forget that."

  "Well maybe when Josip was killed, somehow Scott got hold of the collar and later placed it on Stone.” Reese knew that Barkley came in right after the attack and hadn't seen the collar had been totally destroyed.

  "Yeah ... I guess that must be it. It's the only explanation that works,” Barkley agreed. “You know, I can't say that I will miss General Stone. I don't think he was wrapped too tight. I think he fell off the deep end when his daughter died of a drug overdose. He was fixated with taking out his own revenge on the drug lords, probably in the way that Idriz felt about the death of his daughters by Josip."

  "Yeah. I see what you mean. That must be it,” Reese said. “But you know, the one thing about Stone that amazed me was that he was always thinking about his next move. He had a contingency for just about everything he planned and put into action. He was incredibly intelligent. I can understand why they placed him in command of SOCOM."

  "They named a successor for him, General Morris. Do you know him?"

  "No. You?"

  "I've heard about him. He's made from the same mold as Stone. For all practical purposes, these two could be brothers, with one exception."

  "What's that?” Reese asked.

  "Morris is a politician at heart. He can smooth talk his way through anything."

  "A dangerous combination,” Reese said. “A man with control over the Special Forces of the United States and the clout to convince Washington to use them."

  "Well, we'll see. Word is out that he will be testifying before a special committee on the hill about the circumstances of the death of Stone and Scott."

  "Do you think he knows the complete story?"

  "I don't know. Probably. This whole affair has left me ... I don't know, kind of questioning my own perception of things."

  "You sound like me,” Reese chuckled. “I've been going through the same thing. All I can suggest is that you put it behind you."

  "You make it sound so easy, to just forget about it.” Barkley offered. “My God, look what we did. We captured creatures that most people believed were nothing than a myth. We controlled them and sent them to kill other humans. It sounds almost like..."

  "Slavery,” Reese added.

  "Well ... sort of, I mean these creatures were killers in themselves. It's just uncanny—the whole damn affair."

  "Put the whole thing in perspective, Sam. You were following orders. And now it's done and over with. They're dead."

  "John ... you're sure about that, right?"

  "Sure about what?"

  "They're dead. You're sure?"

  "Stone and Scott?” Reese asked, but he knew where Barkley was heading, considering their conversation up to this point.

  "No. Dimitri and the others."

  "I pressed the button on the remote control to inject the elixir.” Reese answered the question the same way he had answered it when he was getting debriefed. It was the truth. He actually had pressed the button to inject the elixir. What he hadn't admitted was that he had planned the escape with Dimitri, as well as disabled the remote control device. He stood on the bridge of the ship and in front of many witnesses, activated the remote control to inject the poison into the vampires. Of course, nothing happened to the vampires, and in a few days, when the elixir lost its potency due to its short life, the vampires removed their collars safely.

  "I just hate to imagine what would happen if they had escaped somehow and were loose. I would feel ... responsible."

  "I know what you mean, Sam, but...” Reese thought about mentioning that Dimitri was not like the rest. He was different and his outlook on the world was so...

  "But what?” Barkley asked.

  "
Nothing,” Reese said, thinking it was time to get away from this subject. “Well now that we have put all of those messy details, how about a beer?"

  "Sounds good,” Barkley said. Reese saw by the change in his expression that Barkley was ready to move on in the conversation as well.

  Reese grabbed two beers from the refrigerator and came back into the room.

  "So how are you occupying your time since you retired?” Barkley asked.

  "I've been working on a book. Well, actually, I've been working on it for years. When I retired, I thought it would be easy to finish, but for the longest time I felt I was missing something in order to finish it, one final bit of information. But now, I think I can finally put that finishing touch on it now. The time feels right."

  "And after that?"

  "I'll be teaching at Old Dominion University next semester, a class on ancient myths. Between my Navy retirement and teaching, I can live comfortably and that works for me.

  "Glad to hear it."

  "So, what about you? Any thoughts about life after the military?” Reese asked.

  "I've been thinking about it. I can retire in about eighteen months or so. John, I hate to go back to this but there's something I want to ask you about the Team op."

  Reese felt himself tense. Why was Barkley so obsessed with this, he wondered? Did he suspect that he had set the vampires loose and not killed them?

  "What's that?” Reese asked.

  "When it all ended, do you remember that “spook” at the debriefing?"

  "Yeah ... he was hard to forget wasn't he?"

  "What agency do you think he was from?"

  "Your guess is as good as mine on that one. Heck, maybe he was from one we don't even know about. Why do you ask?"

  "Well I don't know if, well I'm not sure..."

  "What's wrong, Sam?"

  "Every once in a while, I get that looking over my shoulder feeling ... like I'm being watched. Do you ever get that?"

  "No, but then I have a habit to being oblivious to some things like that. You know, off in my own little world."