“Mark my words: the threat is coming. In fact, it is here, but it will only get worse.
"Gentlemen I need your help. We cannot let the social fabric of our country be destroyed by this attempt to influence our political process. Thank you."
The president walked out of the room. Members of the society sat in stunned silence. One elder member of the group, whom the group referred to as the “flamen dialis” due to his superstitious nature as well as his ability to predict the political climate based on odd auspices. He said, "This is a similar time to October of 1963 before Kennedy was killed. Oswald was a vampire. I'm sure you all knew this, and he almost succeeded in controlling the country, but Lyndon wouldn't be denied. He rammed through the civil rights legislation. Had he not, the vampires would have been able to overcome the blacks while white America looked the other way. There will be surge in the vampire population, and then it will be too late. It will be too late..." His words fell off, and the old man choked up with emotion.
He gathered himself, "I see the threat. It is coming. Watch out.”
Chapter 3
Agent Watson felt buoyed after seeing Notre Dame and the statute of Charlemagne. He had a job to do, and he could not be distracted by Paris' sensual pleasures.
He had a contact, Henri Boudin, at Interpol, which monitored the comings and goings of thousands of people from many different countries. When Agent Watson contacted Boudin, he told Watson that Fletcher Turner had visited Nero Corporation, one of the many entities Interpol kept tabs on. More specifically, Fletcher met with Vladimir Lenin, the company’s enigmatic CEO.
Agent Watson needed to meet with Vladimir Lenin, but he didn't know how he would get an appointment.
He met Boudin at a sidewalk café.
“Thomas, it has been awhile,” said Boudin.
“It has.” The two men embraced. Watson had three inches on Boudin, but Boudin was just as strong. Like Watson he had been a professional athlete although he played professional soccer for Paris Saint-Germaine.
The two men exchanged more pleasantries.
Boudin leaned forward as he spoke in a hushed voice. “So you want to know about Nero?”
“Yes,” said Watson a little unsettled by his friend’s demeanor.
“I’d be very careful. There is something off about that company. They don’t play by the rules the rest of us play by, and you know they are involved in human trafficking.”
“I will keep that in mind.”
“Good,” said Boudin, his amiable mood back.
Boudin suggested Agent Watson contact Nero Corporation and explain he was a member of the Secret Service but not there on official business. Surely someone from the organization would see him. If he was lucky, that person would be Vladimir Lenin.
He didn’t want Boudin to know what he already knew.
Watson spent the rest of the day wandering around Paris and thinking about his conversation with Boudin. It unsettled him, but he needed to know what Fletcher was up to. He wanted to verify what he already knew and to learn more.
The next morning Agent Watson got up early. He ate a croissant and sipped delectable French coffee. He savored the sights and sounds of Paris. He loved this beautiful city, and it was a shame such nasty business brought him here.
He decided to go to Nero headquarters off the Champs-Elysées. He walked in the front door. The front entrance consisted of thick glass windows, which climbed up the building and all the way to the top. White and black shined marble comprised the floor. In the center of the room sat a circular receptionist desk behind which sat a tall, angular white woman, who could have walked off the runway at a Paris Fashion Week show. She picked up one call and conversed in French. Then she spoke to another person in German.
"How may I help you?" the receptionist asked after she got off the phone.
"How did you know I spoke English?" he asked.
"You are American are you not?"
"Yes, but how did you know?”
"You are easy to spot," she said with a coquettish smile which belied her professional demeanor.
"I would like to speak with Vladimir Lenin. My name is Thomas Watson." I’m on unofficial business with the United States Secret Service.
"I know what the Secret Service is. But do you have an appointment?"
"I do not, but I am sure Mr. Lenin will want to talk to me."
The receptionist smiled thinly. Agent Watson sensed she had expected him somehow. Very strange. Perhaps he was being followed.
Without preamble the receptionist said, “Take the elevator to the twentieth floor and Mr. Lenin's secretary, Monique, will meet you and take you to Mr. Lenin."
When she nodded for him to go, Agent Watson rode the elevator up to the 20th floor. While he rode he watched the flat-screen TVs in the elevator as they played scenes narrated in English of all of Nero Corporation's business ventures. Nero Corporation believes in environmentally sound oil drilling. The oil we drill fuels planes, cars and runs our homes, schools and places of business. As Nero looks to the future, we are developing resorts all over the world where we employ local people.
Convenient places for human trafficking where victims can be sex slaves, free labor and then vampires, Agent Watson thought. I’m being cynical. But he really wasn’t. He’d heard the talk at the White House.
Congress would turn and had turned a blind eye to the human trafficking problem because they believed it wasn’t a problem in the United States. And Nero bought off Congress by guaranteeing hefty campaign contributions to the supporting members. Maybe this was what Fletcher Tuner was up to, he thought.
Before Agent Watson could complete his thought the doors opened to reveal a Louis XVI- style desk. Monique sat behind it. Stunning, he thought. So this is what being a billionaire buys you.
"Bon jour, Agent Watson."
"Bon jour, Monique, I presume." She smiled to reveal a perfectly straight set of white teeth. Then she turned to him and said, "Mr. Lenin will see you now. Walk straight ahead and through those double doors.”
Agent Watson nodded and thanked Monique. He felt a twinge of nervousness, and his knees were weak. Although the French doors sat only a few feet away he felt like he was walking down a long dark corridor, but he couldn't see any light at the end of the corridor.
He opened the door, and his eyes had to adjust to the lack of light. Blinds were drawn. He stood on black carpet, and the room was lined in dark wood paneling with finely bound volumes. Behind an inlaid desk with designs of Byzantine complexity sat Vladimir Lenin. A small gilded lamp provided the only light in the room.
Lenin stood up and said, "I suppose you are here because you heard I met with Fletcher Turner, House Majority Leader Mark Inman's chief of staff."
Fortunately he had his silver stake strapped to his back behind his jacket. He casually took off his jacket. His back, which the stake was strapped to, could not bee seen.
"To some extent. Fletcher Tuner has been acting very strangely, and I have reason to believe you had something to do with it."
"You are entirely correct, Agent Watson, and I intended it to be that way. I knew you would come. You are the one I wanted to see. You see he is a vampire, and he works for me now. So is House Majority Leader Inman. And so will you soon."
"Excuse me?" Agent Watson said, raising his voice. As he spoke, he reached for the stake. But he wasn’t quick enough. Before he could unsheathe the stake, Vladimir Lenin jumped on him and knocked him to the ground with force he did not think was possible other than from a machine.
Lenin held him down. Fangs dropped down, and it suddenly all made sense to Agent Watson. But it was too late. Lenin was going to kill him and make him a vampire. Lenin bit down on his neck hard, and everything went black.
Chapter 4
Politicians were no different now than they had been in ancient Rome, thought Lenin. He also knew the American political system, so laden with money and special interests, would provide the perfect place to hatch his master
plan. And Apex would act as his Trojan horse.
“Fletcher, nice to see you. You are looking good,” said Phillip Mason.
“Thanks, Phillip,” said Fletcher.
Phillip Mason enjoyed working for Apex. He had worked for House Majority Leader Mark Inman for almost five years prior to Apex. He still kept close ties to the office. Fletcher Turner and he were roommates for a few years until Phillip got married.
Phillip and Fletcher didn't meet in public anymore due to the post-Abramhoff era. The media probed all the time in search of the next story about the influence of lobbyists in Washington as if things had changed any. But the media never let the facts get in the way.
Fletcher said, “As you know, the majority leader is a great guy to work for, and he may have the ability to get the nomination and maybe even the presidency. We know President Elder is very vulnerable."
Phillip knew Fletcher did well playing the political game.
"Fletcher I'm sure you know how important the government programs issue is. I think it is going to be one of the most significant issues in the election. What do you think about a bill allowing for drilling offshore along the East Coast with a rider to completely defund entitlement programs?"
Fletcher blew out his breath and considered it. "I think it is a good idea. In fact, I was kind of expecting it. I'm not sure if you knew this, but I met with Vladimir Lenin, CEO of Nero Corporation, in Paris a few weeks ago. And I support the efforts of his business."
Phillip knew he had a lot to learn. How did he not know this already? He always felt he was shrewd, but he obviously didn't know everything. He felt foolish for not knowing this information.
Fletcher responded, "Phillip, there's no way you would know any of this. Other than Mr. Lenin and I, you are probably the only other person who knows this. This does not mean your lobbying firm shouldn't keep pushing this issue. But you know you have my support and the majority leader's support. This support will help you with those up for reelection in the party. And the majority leader can prove useful on the campaign trail. If you all get the right people in office, I assure you I will get you your bill. I’m going to need a little something in addition."
Phillip smiled. “And what would that be?”
“No regulations and no questions about building projects financed by Drum Enterprises and Nero Corporation of Paris.”
“No opposition there. Building creates jobs.”
Fletcher smiled. “Mr. Lenin recognizes talent, but he wants loyal talent.” Fletcher’s fangs dropped down. Phillip gasped.
“Fletcher…that’s not funny.”
“Who said politics was funny?”
A few seconds later blood splattered the floor and the deep carpet. Fletcher thought, I guess I will have to wait till night time to get him out of here. No need for commotion, but he needs to be buried and made.
___________________________
The door to the warehouse slammed shut with a reverberation that sounded like a nuclear shelter shutting. When inside they could block out all sounds, all light and all traces of the outside world. But this place of sanctuary was only temporary, for they had many more dangerous missions.
Roland and Magnum had arrived back in Chicago separately. Both were exhausted yet exhilarated at the same time; Magnum was burdened with the new knowledge of the private prisons and human trafficking sites teeming with vampires and ready to be released.
In one week both would head to Washington to report to the president and to Secret Service.
Since Roland had not hunted vampires for long, he did not know many vampire hunters had been unsuccessful in their hunts. And an unsuccessful hunt could lead to death or, worse yet, becoming a vampire. The latter posed a great threat because the new vampire would know the tricks of the trade, and this made them more difficult to hunt.
Magnum had seen it time and time again. They were like gladiators, only as good as their last fight. Eventually everyone lost, and when you lost you died or became the enemy.
"So, Magnum, how many of these missions are we going to have?"
"Quite a few."
Roland didn't like this. He viewed the struggle as a finite struggle because he believed it would end. The enemy could be vanquished, and normal life could begin again. Magnum knew better. The wily old cat had experienced too much to be that idealistic. Evil doesn't go away. It cannot be killed.
"I thought we needed to stop this great threat, and all would end."
"This may be true, however, the kills we make won't end this. We are containing. Only containing," he said, his voice trailed off. He wished he could delude himself, but he couldn't. Once you knew, you knew, and there was no going back.
"Roland we leave for Washington in one week. We're going to meet with President Elder and the Secret Service. The threat is spreading faster than anyone thought, and there is a lot more human trafficking in the United States and abroad. We will have to hunt at the building projects.”
“Hunt at building sites like with Jernigan?” Roland said.
“Yes,” and we won’t have the superior numbers. We will have to be…more resourceful.”
“How the fuck are we going to do that, Magnum?” yelled Roland. He slammed down his pack. “That’s certain death.”
“No it isn’t. This is where Valkyrie comes in. She’s a vampire explosives expert; she learned it from the Society of the Silver Stake. It is special training for mass killing of vampires.”
Just then Valkyrie walked out of the shadows. She wore black leather pants, her dark hair pulled back and a Bob Dylan t-shirt. Under the t-shirt sleeve peeked out a barbed wire tattoo.”
“I’m going to take you assholes on a downstate hunt. We can clear out a lot of these assholes. And we will get it done before you go to DC so you can brag to POTUS about it.”
__________
Valkyrie left the building, and Roland and Magnum followed her.
"I never thought I would be working directly with the president," said Roland with a mixture of trepidation and excitement. “It will all make sense once we talk to him."
"Maybe," said Magnum doubtfully. "The presidency ages people. And you can see why now. Every president has learned about the vampire threat, but this knowledge is kept in the strictest confidence between presidents, members of the Society of the Silver Stake and a few, select Secret Service agents. You are in a small and select group. You are burdened with this horrible realization. And it is a burden. Most people would rather not know of the fragile threads holding their reality together. The stress would be too much. But someone needs to know. Someone needs to do something about it. And we are those people, along with a few others."
“We may not make it out of the hunt,” said Roland.
“Yes we will. Shit’s about to get real.”
__________________________
“So what’s your story, Valkyrie?” said Roland.
“It is a little boring and sad too.”
“I figured.”
“My real name is Valerie Compton, which isn’t all that far off from Valkyrie.” She thought about her parents, who had been drug dealers on Oakland.
“Where are you from?”
“Oakland.”
“I suppose it didn’t end well”
“No, I killed the people who killed my parents.”
“I’m sorry. How did you get the name Valkyrie?”
“From Norse mythology. Godlike women who decide who lives and dies.”
Roland laughed. “Perfect for a powerful lesbian.”
“Watch it,” she said. Then she laughed and spun around with her samurai sword. Then she posed.
Chapter 5
“The hunt will be downstate at Sandhurst Resort, the resort that has been under construction for a few years now,” Magnum said as he tapped his sliver stake against his boots as if he were knocking mud off.
“More hunts with the number of enemy unknown,” said Pierre.
Magnum sighed. “Yeah, it is differen
t this time. More human trafficking means they’ve been multiplying at higher intervals. We don’t really know how many have been kidnapped and turned into vampires. Some are discarded, and some are used for food. Kind of like milking cattle.”
“Let me know when you get back.”
“Oh…I will,” Magnum said as he sheathed his silver stake behind his back as if it were a sword. Then he pulled on his black trench coat and put on his Indiana Jones like hat.
Roland stepped beside him, and the Valkyrie walked out of the shadows.
“Quite a trio,” said Pierre. “ Valkyrie, I must say you add quite a bit to the team. You can never have enough good vampire hunters especially with the numbers uncertain. Good luck.” No one else spoke, and the three walked out and closed the door.
Human trafficking, Vampire Restoration League and Nero were all tied together. Pierre knew of the Nero Corporation, and he also knew of Vladimir Lenin. Vladimir Lenin was also a vampire; he’d known this for awhile. The president had only recently gotten independent confirmation. Pierre pulled up Lenin’s picture on the Internet. It was hard to find, and there weren’t many good images.
Something about his coal black eyes reminded Pierre of a time past, but he couldn't say definitively what made him think this. Something deep within the recesses of his almost 2,000-year-old psyche. He reminded him of his maker, Drago, but he didn’t want to believe it could be him. Not after all these years.
__________________
Rome, 64 A.D.
Quintus woke up in darkness with the cool, moist feel of dirt on his skin, but his skin didn’t feel the same. He sensed both less and more.
Vampire Esquire's War (Book 2) Page 2
