“Don’t get too close,” Barrows said.
“Yes, sir,” Sergeant Bechtel replied, ignoring the instruction. He continued his driving at the same careful pace, barely within sight of the dark coloured vehicles up ahead.
Barrows ignored the irritation he heard in the man’s voice. The sergeant didn’t like it that his team was subordinate to OSI for this operation. It was hard to blame the man. The military rarely liked civilian control of their actions, and members of elite special teams like Bechtel and his men liked it least of all.
Barrows frowned at the GPS in the dash. They were far outside of the city now, and into a remote area barren of habitation. He checked his map, but there didn’t seem to be anything interesting nearby. He glanced uneasily out of his window, but the darkness was impenetrable. Considering what they were doing out here he should be thankful for Bechtel’s presence, but he really would have preferred his own people accompany him. He knew and trusted them; they had backed each other up on these things too many times to count. He would have preferred an exclusively OSI operation even now, even knowing who they were going up against, but the President himself had taken a hand after the disaster in Chicago by making it a joint operation between OSI and the military. OSI retained the investigative side, while the military was tasked with the actual take down. Arcadian’s assassination in other words. Barrows grimaced at the familiar thought, but there really was no alternative and the President would not hear the Director’s protests about using the military within the Republic’s borders. Barrows knew he had been lucky to remain in charge of the investigation, let alone running the final operation that would close the file once and for all.
He watched the tail-lights of the dark SUV up ahead and judged the distance had remained constant. It was tail-end-Charlie of a convoy of vehicles they had followed all the way from the waterfront district of LA. They weren’t gaining, and that was good enough for now.
Humber had surprised him in how far she had been willing to go in her pursuit of what she saw as justice. Surprised and pleased him actually. Allowing her to blaze the trail had made his job much easier. Her contacts had given her a way to infiltrate the non-human community, one he simply did not have and couldn’t replicate. OSI was persona non grata with vamp and shifter alike. His body would never have been found if he’d attempted what Chris Humber had succeeded in doing. It was amazing how creatures known for their paranoia and hostility had accepted her so easily. Either she was a superb actress, or she had promised them something they wanted very badly. He wondered what it had been. Not that he cared really. As long as it led to Arcadian’s destruction, he wouldn’t complain.
Brake lights flared red, and the convoy of SUVs and vans took a turn onto a side road. He checked the GPS but wasn’t surprised to find it devoid of any side roads for miles. Typical. The software didn’t include the narrow lane. No surprise, it was hardly a road at all, just a dirt track barely one car wide. He aimed his shielded flashlight at the paper map in his lap as Bechtel slowed to a crawl to allow Humber’s team to open the range before taking the same turn. He knew what he was doing, but allowing the distance between them to widen still further was risky. They didn’t want to lose sight of them completely.
“We must be getting close,” Barrows said. “There’s nothing on the map for miles in any direction except this place.” He tapped a finger on the map and angled it for Bechtel to see. “There’s no name.”
“A town?”
“I don’t think so. It looks too small for that. Maybe a house or cabin? I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out.”
Bechtel grunted. “No kidding,” he said and slowed even more. “They’re stopping.”
Barrows peered ahead as the sergeant pulled over. “This must be it. I’ll want your people to set a perimeter around this place.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Sergeant?”
“Sir?”
“I know what you were told about Arcadian and the Chicago thing. I won’t debate with you who was to blame for our losses that day. Frankly, I don’t care if you like me or not, but you will follow my orders. Assuming she’s alive and we can do it without risking the mission I want to extract the Stirling woman unharmed if possible.” He hesitated but then made his decision. “I guess we can extend that to other human hostages if there are any, but they’re not a priority. Get me?”
Bechtel nodded and smiled. He actually looked approving for a change. “Kill all non-humans. I like that kind of order. Makes things simple.”
“Not quite. I’m including the AML fanatics in that kill order. Objections?”
“Nope. They’ll be trying to off my men and me. I consider that sort of thing unfriendly.”
Barrows nodded and opened his door to climb out.
The other vans had parked close by and Bechtel’s men were assembling. He smoothed the map out over the hood of the closest vehicle and everyone gathered around to listen. Doug and the other OSI agents were conspicuous in their different appearance. Although all of them were wearing black body armour of similar design, Bechtel’s men were like walking armouries. They had assault rifles in hand, but the loops on their vests sported many other weapons. Blades of all shapes and sizes were in evidence together with old-fashioned stakes and modern stun weapons. He could even make out a sword handle rising over the shoulder of one man, and if he wasn’t mistaken, there were quite a few of the new gas propelled stake guns slung across chests. A few modern compound crossbows rounded out the mix. His OSI people were poor relations in comparison. They carried assault rifles and their K6 Remington stunners holstered under their arms, but that was it.
One of the men illuminated the map with a flashlight and Barrows pointed out the target. “I want this place locked down. No one leaves without our say so. Sergeant Bechtel will choose who stays with us for the main assault. The rest of you will surround the place and enforce containment. Weapons free, gentlemen. Secrecy must be maintained no matter the cost. Collateral damage is not on my radar, and I can assure you, it’s not on the Director’s radar either. The only thing that might get us canned is letting someone talk.”
“Question, sir,” one man said.
“Ask.”
“What if they surrender?”
Barrows stared, and then glanced at Bechtel who rolled his eyes. The questioner was obviously very green. He was baby-faced and new on the team, recruited only recently.
“Cousins, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, Cousins, what part of the weapons free and secrecy must be maintained order don’t you understand?”
Cousins flushed.
Barrows surveyed all the men. “In case anyone else is in any doubt: No... One... Leaves. Understood?”
The men mumbled agreement.
“Now then, I would like it very much if the human hostages can be rescued, but that’s not a priority. Miss Stirling may or may not be still alive; we may or may not rescue her. If we can do it without losing containment, then fine—her family’s friends have a lot of pull where it counts—but saving her at the cost of losing Arcadian is unacceptable.” He let the seriousness of the situation settle in their minds with his silence. He caught and held as many of their eyes as he could, and received acknowledgements in the form of nods and their firming grip upon weapons. “Sergeant Bechtel, they’re your men. Get it done.”
“Yes sir,” Bechtel said and began parcelling out his men into teams to surround and contain the area.
Barrows left him to it and stepped away. His own people followed him into the dark. “We go directly for Arcadian,” he began. “I don’t care what else we find in there, or how bad it is, he’s our priority. If we can take him down it won’t matter what else happens, we’ll have won.”
“As long as no one talks. If word of what the sick freak is doing gets out we’re screwed,” Doug warned.
Everyone nodded worriedly.
Barrows waved a hand at the soldiers. “That’s what Bechtel and his men are here to prevent. We go in hard and take down all opposition. No one will talk. No one will be in a condition to talk when we’re done.”
“The Stirling woman?”
“If she’s alive we’ll deal. There are ways to shut her down—spells and even drugs that can wash memories.”
Doug grimaced, but nodded.
He understood Doug’s distaste. He wasn’t a fan of wiping memories himself, especially not the memories of an innocent woman still grieving her father’s death, but there really was no other option. He couldn’t just take her word that she wouldn’t tell someone about Arcadian. Even if he could, his superiors wouldn’t let him. Giving her a free pass was out of the question.
“Sir!”
Barrows turned and Bechtel gestured up the lane. Two men were walking nonchalantly toward them. Within seconds, everyone had found some cover and was aiming weapons into the dark. He recognised them from the reports he had ordered written up. It was David Lephmann and his sidekick, Lawrence Bailey.
“No one fire!” Barrows said. “Let them come to us.”
“Jack...” Nancy said nervously. She was peering into the trees, trying to pierce the shadows. “This feels all wrong.”
“Stay frosty,” he said, not liking the feel of it either. “Keep them covered, but don’t start anything. Let’s see what this is about.”
Lephmann and Bailey stopped in the middle of the lane and surveyed things with glowing eyes. Both shifters were unarmed, but that didn’t mean much. Their bodies were their weapons. Lephmann assessed Bechtel’s men, his golden eyes locking on to each man briefly as if memorising faces, before moving on to the next. Finally, he found who he was looking for and spoke.
“Agent Barrows, a word please.”
Barrows grunted in surprise. He hadn’t expected to be recognised and wondered about it. Maybe Humber had mentioned his name. He lowered his rifle, stepping away from the protection of the van and into the middle of the lane. He stopped well back from the shifters, trying not to block his men’s field of fire in case it dropped in the pot.
Lephmann nodded to him. “What do you see happening here? Whatever it is you’ll need to rethink because I won’t let it happen.”
“Let?” Barrows said. “I don’t think you understand your position, Doctor Lephmann.”
“David or Lephmann if you prefer, not Doctor. People like you won’t let me be one anymore.”
“People like me, what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Human bigots in position of authority is what it means.”
Lawrence smiled.
Barrows scowled. “You don’t know me.”
Lephmann waved a hand at all the gun-toting soldiers. “I don’t need to know you personally to know what you are. It’s obvious what you plan to do. I won’t let you kill my friend.”
“Friends like Arcadian do you no credit.”
This time it was Lephmann’s turn to scowl, but being a shifter made his expression a little different to the human norm. His eyes blazed, literally. The golden irises brightened making Barrows think of searchlights.
“Arcadian is no friend of mine. Stephen is who I meant. Stephen and anyone he calls friend. I won’t let him come to harm. Leave.”
“Heh, that’s not happening. You’re a fool to suggest it.”
“I’m not fool enough to expect common sense from any human being, but I had to make the offer.”
“Now who’s the bigot? It works both ways.”
“True, it does. You should let me and my people deal with Arcadian. Let us police our own problem children and we’ll let you leave.”
“I can’t do that.”
Lephmann nodded. “I know why you think that. Arcadian’s insane plan, the bio-weapon, the need for secrecy... you should realise that stopping him is in my people’s interests as much as yours. No one wants the attention of the White Council or the elven courts. No one wants to risk a purge or a new War of Races. I can swear any oath you care to name that Arcadian will cease to be a problem tonight, and all evidence of his mad scheme will disappear forever, but that won’t suffice. Will it?”
“No.”
“What do you see happening here? Right here, between us?”
Barrows frowned. “I will take you two into custody and proceed against Arcadian, or if you resist, my men will put you down first. It’s your choice.”
“You’re right about it being about choices. Let me give you yours. You can let us police our own, and then move in to clean up the mess we’ll leave behind. We both know none of this will be allowed to become public knowledge no matter which of us kills Arcadian. On the other hand, you can kill me, and Lawrence will kill you. Your men will then kill him, and then my friends will step in and kill everyone else before taking care of Arcadian as planned. You and your men will become another statistic on the national missing person’s database. You’ll become just another blip in a computer somewhere.”
“Big talk,” Bechtel growled. “Sir, time’s wasting.”
“Jonas!” Lephmann said. “Now please.”
Barrows tensed as eyes ignited in the dark. He turned slowly to survey the trees. There were hundreds of shifters watching from the shadows, already in beast form. Hundreds of huge coyotes, and mixed in with them were tall humanoid monsters. They crept forward to reveal themselves, growling, and eager to attack. Bechtel’s men reformed to cover all sides at once, but he could tell they were outnumbered three or four to one. He turned back to Lephmann expecting to see the man gloating, but he wasn’t. He looked… hopeful?
“Stand down, Sergeant,” Barrows said giving in to the inevitable.
He had no doubt a lot of people were only moments from death. The wrong people. Arcadian was the one who mustn’t walk away. He didn’t like it, but if Lephmann’s people could take him down, there was no need for Bechtel’s men to die here.
“But sir!”
“Stand down. We aren’t leaving, but if these... people want to do our work for us, I say we let them. No need to risk your men’s lives if we don’t need to.” He turned back to Lephmann. “You win, but we’re not leaving. I’m going to surround the area in case anyone slips by your...” he waved a hand at the monstrous creatures lurking in the shadows. “...by you.”
Lephmann nodded and turned to leave. The shifters under the trees faded back and the glowing eyes were extinguished two by two. Barrows watched them go, thinking hard, and wondering whether to call in reinforcements. He could do that; he would be expected to do that under the circumstances. He could even call in an air strike by drone if he needed to. The Arcadian operation was that crucial. He really should report in and ask for orders, but if he did, he was certain to lose control of things. It would be no skin off his nose if Lephmann and all his people died in such a strike, but he didn’t want to risk losing Arcadian. He wanted the vamp’s headless corpse at his feet. He wanted absolute verification of death, not a crater in the ground that might or might not contain Arcadian’s ashes.
“Sergeant?”
“Sir?”
“Change of plans.”
Bechtel laughed. “No kidding.”