Smith sat in one of the armchairs in front of the desk. He stood as Drake entered and straightened the vest of his Savile Row suit. At six-foot-three-inches and two hundred pounds, a physique that testified to considerable time in the gym, and ruggedly-handsome good looks, Smith looked like a Hollywood version of a lawyer. Presumptuous, Drake admitted, since he had no idea what Smith did as a profession. Smith served as the go-between for Drake’s crew and their unnamed benefactor. He had arranged for Drake and Alison to set up in Washington three months ago after they had been forced to leave Boston, including arranging the purchase of this house plus the accompanying equipment. He ensured the funds were always available when required and, presumably, calmed the waters on those occasions when Drake stirred things up with the city’s authorities.
Drake placed the cigar between his lips as he slipped off his jacket and hung it on a hook on the back of the door. “Morning.”
“Good morning, Mr. Matthews.” Smith motioned to the cigar clenched between Drakes’ lips. “You know, those things will kill you?”
“So I’ve heard.” Drake walked behind his desk and slid into the leather chair. “Thanks for getting me and Alison out of jail again.”
“That’s my job.”
“But squaring things with three police jurisdictions? This time you outdid yourself.”
“I could say the same for you.”
Drake nodded sheepishly. “The vampires usually confine their feeding to the Mall or to seedy bars. The other night was the first time they’ve ventured off their usual hunting ground.”
“Any idea why?”
“None. Hopefully it was an isolated incident. A rogue snuffy. Otherwise we’re facing the prospect that these things are either becoming very aggressive or incredibly sloppy.”
“That’s what I thought.” Smith grimaced. “Either way, it’s not good.”
“Nothing we can’t handle.”
“Maybe so. But my boss had to call in a lot of favors to get you two out of jail this time.” Smith held up a hand, cutting Drake off in mid-protest. “That’s not a criticism, just a fact. A couple of more encounters like the other night, and it won’t be long before even my boss is helpless to get you off the hook.”
“That’s a lovely prospect.”
Smith contemplated his next question. “Do you have any idea who the Master is?”
“Not a clue.”
“Do you think there even is a Master?”
“There has to be. We’ve come across too many snuffies for this to be random. There’s a nest somewhere in the city. I just haven’t figured out where.”
“Maybe I can help.” Smith smiled as he gestured with his head toward the reception area. “The kid is James Delmarco. Good kid. And bright. Perhaps a little too bright. Like yourself, he’s had a few run-ins with the authorities. My boss has smoothed things over and wants him to join your team.”
“What’s his specialty?”
Smith grinned conspiratorially. “Engineering. Leave it at that.”
“Is he reliable?”
“We wouldn’t be asking you to take him on board if he wasn’t.” Smith paused, then offered Drake an out. “If the kid doesn’t work out, let me know and we’ll pull him. Nothing can interfere with your primary task.”
“I can’t ask for more than that.”
“Do you need anything else?”
“Just the location of the nest.”
Smith chuckled. “Trust me, if I had that you’d be the first to know. I’ll be on my way then.”
Both men stood and shook hands, then Drake escorted Smith out into the reception room. When Smith left, Drake turned to Jim and offered his hand. “So, you’re the new kid?”
“Yes, sir.” Jim jumped up, wiped his hand against his pants leg, and grabbed Drake’s hand. He had a strong grip, probably the result of being nervous. “James Delmarco, sir.”
“No need to be so formal.”
Jim smiled weakly. “Sorry. It’s just that she always calls you Boss, so I thought you preferred it that way.”
Drake laughed. “Once you’ve been with us awhile you’ll learn that Alison calls me whatever she wants. I’m just glad she picked a name that can be used in public.”
“At least around you I do.” Alison grinned mischievously.
Drake turned his attention back to Jim. “Smith says you have a knack for engineering. What experience do you have?”
“Three and a half semesters at Caltech. I was about to wind up my second year when…” Jim hesitated.
“So what are you in for?” asked Drake.
“Excuse me?”
“What did you do that caused them to banish you here?”
“Well…” Jim paused again, then averted his eyes. “I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.”
“Not a problem.” Drake patted Jim on the shoulder. “Alison, show Jim where he’ll be working.”
“Sure thing, Boss.” Alison stood up and straightened her skirt, then looked over at Jim. “Follow me.”
As Alison led Jim upstairs, Drake limped back to his office to plan the next hunt.
* * *
AS LUCK SHOULD HAVE IT FOR JESSICA, Chief Roach had scheduled a news conference for noon, ostensibly to discuss the Drake Matthews’ case. When Philips told her yesterday that Matthews would be released, it had been privileged information. By this morning, every local newspaper and network affiliate had gotten wind of the story. Considering the damage Drake had caused, that information generated a firestorm in the District. This news conference would be the chief’s attempt at damage control, and Jessica’s opportunity to get some answers.
Since Jessica had received this assignment yesterday morning, she only had enough time to conduct research in The Standard’s database archives. Thankfully that provided more than enough background information. It was the only newspaper not only to report on Drake Matthews’ original arrest at the motorcycle bar three months ago, but also the other two arrests since then. It would definitely make for an interesting news conference.
The briefing room was two-thirds full when Jessica entered. She found a seat five rows back and off to the left, the closest to the podium she could get. Slipping off her overcoat, Jessica barely had draped it over the back of her chair and taken a seat when a bustle occurred behind the podium. Roach entered followed by two other officers, one in uniform and the other in civilian clothes. The flashes from numerous cameras and the glare of television klieg lights lit up the room. Roach stepped up to the podium, with the others taking position behind and to either side of him. He forewent any formalities.
“We’ve received numerous phone calls over the last twenty-four hours with regard to the arrest of Drake Matthews and Alison Monroe. Before we begin, I want to confirm that the reports of Mr. Matthews and Miss Monroe being released are accurate. With me is Robert Dekker, the chief medical examiner, and Sergeant Juan Rodriguez, the arresting officer. They’ll help me answer your questions.”
Half the reporters in the room began asking questions at once. Roach admonished everyone to be quiet, and when order returned he resumed.
“When we originally arrested Drake Matthews and Miss Monroe, we assumed they were responsible for the incident at Union Station and the events that followed. Further investigation, however, cleared them of all charges.”
“What about the assault on the boy at Union Station?” asked the reporter from the local NBC affiliate.
“There was an assault on a ten-year-old boy, but Mr. Matthews was not the attacker. In fact, he saved the juvenile’s life. We have that from the juvenile himself.”
“Will you be releasing the boy’s statement?” asked a television reporter.
“No. Because he’s a juvenile, every aspect of the case that relates to him will remain sealed.”
A young, attractive black woman stood up. “Cheri Tewes. Channel Nine News. If Drake Matthews was not responsible for the attack on the young boy, then why did he run from police?”
“Mr. Matthews did not run from the police,” Roach responded somewhat unconvincingly. “He was pursuing the real attacker when he became stranded on the back of the tanker. Miss Monroe gave chase to save her friend, and although she did commit numerous moving vehicle violations, she did so while trying to save Mr. Matthews from a life-threatening situation, and as such will not be charged.”
“Then who attacked the boy?” asked an older gentleman whom Jessica did not recognize.
Roach hesitated just long enough to shroud his answer in suspicion. “We don’t know who the attacker is.”
“You mean you haven’t positively identified the attacker’s body yet?”
“I mean we haven’t identified the attacker or found his body.”
Another barrage of questions. It took Roach several seconds to quiet everyone down. When calm had been restored, the older reporter asked a follow-up question. “Chief Roach, I’m confused. Didn’t the initial reports indicate that the arresting officers found the remains of the attacker at the scene of the crash?”
“The reason for that…” began Dekker before Roach cut him off with a withering look.
“The initial reports were erroneous,” said Rodriquez as he stepped up to the podium. “I was one of the arresting officers. When we arrived on the scene of the accident, we saw something on fire fall out of the cab of the truck. What we had originally assumed to be the driver turned out to be one of the seats.”
“But didn’t your initial report state that given the violent nature of the accident, nothing could have survived both the impact and the fire?”
“Nothing could have, sir.”
Roach quickly jumped in. “What we’re saying is that we haven’t found the remains yet, which is not unusual given the circumstances behind this crash. The driver was either ejected from the vehicle by the force of the impact, in which case we’ll discover the remains once we expand our investigation into the surrounding area, or, more than likely, was incinerated.”
“Is that another erroneous assumption?” someone called out.
“No,” Roach said forcefully. “We’re still cleaning up the accident site. The remains will be found.”
Jessica saw her opportunity. “Chief Roach, you mentioned that Drake Matthews and Alison Monroe would not be charged because their actions were deemed self-defense. Was self-defense the same reason all charges were dropped following the incident at Jack Nasty’s?”
Roach looked as though someone had inserted an electrode up his ass and flipped on the switch. “Excuse me?”
“Jack Nasty’s. The motorcycle bar down by the Navy Yard. Three months ago the police found Drake Matthews and Alison Monroe inside the bar surrounded by half a dozen bikers who had been beaten so bad they needed to be hospitalized. Were the charges dropped because whatever happened in the bar was deemed self-defense? And was self-defense the reason why the charges were dropped following their second arrest, and after the incident of arson?”
Roach stared at Jessica. She watched as his initial perplexity by the question turned into anger. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name, Miss…”
“Reynolds. Jessica Reynolds.”
“And you’re affiliated with?”
Now Jessica felt uncomfortable. “The Washington Standard.”
Roach chuckled. The rest of the room laughed. Jessica hoped none of them noticed her turning red.
Roach waited for the noise to die down. “Miss Reynolds, I can assure you that, despite what your readers may think, there is no conspiracy between us and Drake Matthews. While we’re not at liberty to discuss these earlier incidents, rest assured that if we ever have reason to suspect Drake Matthews and Miss Monroe of being engaged in criminal activity, we will arrest them. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”
Roach and the other men turned and strode off the podium followed by a barrage of unanswered questions. Soon the reporters began filing out, many casting disapproving glances at Jessica or uttering snide comments under their breath as they passed. Rather than face the humiliation, Jessica waited until the others had cleared out before leaving the building herself.
Halfway down the front stairs of the police station, Jessica heard someone calling her name. She stopped and turned just as Dekker raced down, slightly out of breath.
“Miss Reynolds, I’m glad I caught up with you.”
“Why? Were there some cheap shots at my expense you forgot to get in back there?”
“You were the only one asking the right questions.”
“How so?”
“Not here.” Dekker cupped Jessica’s elbow in his left hand and guided her down to the sidewalk, then led her down the street. “Do you know where the city morgue is?”
Jessica nodded.
“Good. Meet me there tomorrow night at eight o’clock. I have something you need to see.”
“Can’t you just tell me what this is about?”
“No, ma’am,” Dekker said emphatically, shaking his head to emphasize the urgency of his request. “This is something you need to see. Will you be there?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Thanks. Trust me. You won’t regret this.” Giving Jessica a friendly nod, Dekker turned and headed back toward the station.
As Jessica watched him leave, she began to wonder what was so special that Dekker needed to show her, and if she would regret doing this.
* * *
ALISON SHOWED JIM AROUND the office, pointing out how the structure differed from the typical Washington house. Steel-reinforced door and window jams. Iron plates in the walls to deter the undead from gaining entrance. Extensive bay windows and a large skylight, each fitted with thick shatter-proof glass. The installation of infrared detectors, fine tuned to pick up temperature variations of only a few degrees, a necessity since vampires generate no natural body heat. And a structure-wide sprinkler system fed off of a one-thousand-gallon container of holy water located underneath the garage. Jim found the third floor laboratory of particular interest, or at least what passed as a laboratory. The entire floor had been renovated into one large open space except for a single room in the rear corner. Despite its size, the space held only a single gun safe, a metal cabinet containing wooden stakes and bottles of holy water, and a cleared work bench.
Jim strolled around the lab, opening the safe and cabinet to examine their contents, decidedly unimpressed. When Alison finished the tour, he leaned back against the work bench.
“I appreciate you and Drake taking me on, but what am I supposed to be doing here?”
“What do you mean?”
Jim swept a hand around the empty lab. “There’s nothing for me to work with.”
“Filling it is your job.” Reaching into her pocket, Alison withdrew a credit card and handed it to Jim. “Get whatever you need. And don’t worry about the cost. If you need something and can’t find it, let me know and I’ll get it for you.”
“Even if it’s illegal?” Jim joked.
“Yes.”
“Are you serious?”
Alison nodded. “What we’re doing is very important and extremely dangerous. Our backers know this, which is why we have an unlimited bank account and access to anything we need. All we have to do is ask.”
“And what exactly are we doing?” The hesitation in Jim’s voice betrayed that he really would rather not know the answer.
“Didn’t Smith tell you?”
“I want to hear it from you.”
“We hunt vampires.”
Jim sighed. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
“You don’t believe in vampires?”
“I hoped that was just a cover story, and that I’d really be working for the CIA or the Department of Defense.” Jim pushed himself away from the workbench and walked over to the cabinet. He opened the doors, pulled out a wooden stake, and held it in his hand. Several seconds passed before he turned back to Alison. “Vampires?”
Alison nodded.
“Like Bela L
ugosi and Christopher Lee?”
“I’ve seen these things up close. They are not suave and debonair. We deal with monsters, like something out of a John Carpenter or Wes Craven movie.”
“How many… vampires are we going up against?”
The smile fell from Alison’s face. “I wish I knew. We’ve already killed about a dozen vampires in the past three months, and had several run ins with others. That suggests there’s a nest here in Washington, but we haven’t been able to find the master.”
Jim shook his head and held up both hands. “Wait a minute. Nest? Master?”
“There are two types of vampires. Masters are the most dangerous. They’re cunning, intelligent, and more powerful than your average vampire. They’re also extremely difficult to hunt down because they look human and transform into a vampire only to feed. By then it’s usually too late to do anything about them. Wherever a master goes, it establishes a nest and creates a horde of vampires to protect and serve it.
“The vampires created by a master are ugly, blood-thirsty creatures. They’re created when a vampire feeds on a human and the human dies from their wounds. That human comes back to life a few days later as a snuffy.”
“What’s a snuffy?”
“An expendable. They’re sole purpose is to be snuffed in order to protect the master.”
Jim sighed. He closed the cabinet and turned to Alison. “I guess I have a lot to learn.”
“You will. With time. Right now you only need to know how to kill them.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because your job is to help us find better ways to get rid of these things.”
Jim smiled, finally feeling in his element. “And exactly how do we kill them?”
“There are several options.” Alison motioned for Jim to follow, and the two headed for the stairs. “The traditional method is to drive a stake through their heart. Decapitation and incineration are also very effective. Exposure to sunlight will destroy them instantly. Holy water won’t kill them, but it does major damage and slows them down. We just haven’t figured out a way yet to turn it into an effective weapon.”
The Vampire Hunters: Book I of The Vampire Hunters Trilogy Page 6
