‘It’s a pleasure to meet you boys,’ Alex said. She wasn’t expecting a reply, and spent the next few minutes staring out at the drab scenery as the Mercedes sped around the outskirts of Brussels. Belgium. Land of chocolate and chips, and not much else.
The Hotel Grand Chateauneuf sat secluded in twenty acres of its own wooded grounds a few kilometres from Brussels. The high level of luxury and even higher security made it perfect for the big-shot conferences and summits that were regularly held there. Bilderbergers, global business cartels, now vampires. The Mercedes was halted at the barred gates and the driver showed his paperwork to the armed private security guard that stepped up to meet them. A nod and a wave, and they glided on through the gates and into the rolling grounds. The hotel appeared through the trees as they came closer, all steel and glass and concrete. To Alex’s eye it looked slab-like and postmodern, but she guessed the brutal architecture appealed to the powermonger types. The main building could have been a grounded space station, with a giant glass dome in its centre that caught the dull sunlight.
Up ahead, a procession of other vehicles was filing up towards the car park as vampires arrived from all over the world. Their driver slotted into a parking space and Bates and Verspoor escorted Alex from the car. As they followed the crowd funnelling towards the entrance of the main building, she could see the limos of the top Ruling Council dignitaries parked in a cordoned area. More agents were milling about, some of them conspicuously armed and glancing about nervously. Whatever stocks remained of Nosferol were sure to have been diligently reserved for VIP protection, Alex thought.
Her two goons shadowed her every step of the way as she walked into the hotel lobby and glanced around for Harry Rumble. She spotted him through the crowds, standing in conversation with Xavier Garrett. Rumble didn’t seem his usual self-possessed self as she approached him.
‘I like the way you sent this double act to pick me up,’ she said. ‘Am I under close arrest or what?’
Garrett smirked. Rumble shifted nervously and looked down at his feet. ‘I wouldn’t put it that way exactly.’
‘Then exactly how would you put it, Harry?’
‘We can talk about it later,’ he said. ‘It’s just about time for us to go in.’ The crowd was beginning to break up and drift towards the stairs leading to the main conference room. As they walked, Alex noticed the grim look on Rumble’s face.
‘What’s the matter, Harry? It can’t just be because of Solomon, can it?’
He shook his head. ‘There have been more incidents. While you were in Italy the field stations in Bombay, New York and Tokyo were hit. Nosferol grenade attack. No survivors. Late last night there was another attempt, Paris this time. If the grenade hadn’t failed to go off, every one of our agents there would have bought it, too.’
‘Stone,’ she said. ‘He’s tightening the screw.’
‘And we don’t know what we can damn well do about it. The bastard has us by the balls.’
They entered the conference hall and Alex glanced up at the high glass-domed ceiling she’d seen from the car. The banked rows of plush red velvet seats could seat up to five hundred, and they were filling up quickly. A host of ushers with Federation insignia on their smart red uniforms were running back and forth, attending to the delegates, smiling and shaking hands, offering glasses of blood. The elegant classical music piping into the room from hidden speakers was all but drowned out by the buzz of conversation. Rumble was whisked off to join a contingent of VIA section chiefs seated in the front row among other Federation leaders, while Bates and Verspoor steered Alex up the sloping side aisle towards a seat in the row second from the back, looking down from on high at the broad stage below. She got the distinct feeling she was being sidelined. They pointedly sat behind her, spaced two places apart as though that seemed more intimidating.
There was nothing she could do except sit back and watch the conference hall fill up. She could feel the sense of anticipation building in the room as the event ticked steadily closer, but the overall atmosphere was downbeat. Many faces were frowning.
Some of the conversations taking place among the rows of seats and in the aisles were more like arguments. Whether the Federation leaders liked to admit it or not, Gabriel Stone’s uprising had everyone deeply rattled.
The buzz halted abruptly with the first signs of movement down below and, one by one, to a thunderous applause, the dignitaries hosting the conference filed out from behind the curtain and made their way to the long, curved podium. Alex had never seen them in the flesh before but, like every other vampire in the place, she could put names to the faces that appeared on the big screens flanking the stage. Hassan. Borowczyk.
Korentayer. Goldmund. Mushkavanhu. Behind them followed the rotund figure of the FRC Number Two, Gaston Lerouge. The Supremos took their places, three to a side.
The seventh, central, seat remained empty; and then the applause intensified and there were shouts as Olympia Angelopolis burst out from behind the curtain. She swept across the stage, dressed in a flowing white gown that shimmered under the lights, mirroring the silver of her hair. The imperious, unsmiling features of the Vampress filled the screens over the stage. She paused graciously to acknowledge her reception and raised a hand. The applause died away.
Then the great Olympia Angelopolis spoke.
Chapter Seventy-One
‘On behalf of my fellow Supremos of the Ruling Council, I thank you all for gathering here today. Let us begin with a minute’s silence to mourn the lamented passing of Supremo Teshigahara, Councillor Sen and the other victims of the recent atrocities committed against our great Federation.’
There was a soft murmur of assent among the audience, and a reverential hush hung over the auditorium. Olympia and the other Supremos solemnly lowered their heads. Up on the big screens, Gaston Lerouge was seen to wipe away a tear, even though everyone in the room knew that vampires couldn’t cry. After exactly fifty-nine seconds, Olympia abruptly raised her head and ended the silence. ‘Thank you. Now, let us begin.’
Why am I here, Alex thought as the talking began. She could have been out there trying to find Joel instead of wasting time listening to this. She slumped deeper in her seat, put her feet up on the backrest of the row in front of her and folded her arms.
She could feel the eyes of Verspoor and Bates right behind her, boring into her.
Right from the start, the main thrust of the meeting was exactly the party line she’d been expecting. Gaston Lerouge took the floor and spent most of the first hour stirring the audience’s shared outrage with an impassioned account of the recent acts of sabotage, murder and robbery committed against the Federation by the new rebellion, the instigators of which he described as terrorists and insurgents. Having whipped up the sentiments in the room to a pitch, Lerouge masterfully changed gear and talked at length about the Federation’s long history: the struggle to establish order in the early days, the first successes and failures, the heroic efforts of esteemed colleagues such as The Lady of Steel herself to bring peace and harmony to what had been an embattled, divided, grievously endangered race. Were the sacrifices of the Founders to have been in vain? No, the audience roared. Was this towering monument to democracy, this paragon of justice and good, to be brought down by a rabble? No!
Visibly moved, Lerouge handed the floor to his colleagues. The next hour was spent reassuring the audience that in no way was the Federation under any significant threat from the uprising. Thanks to the worthy efforts of VIA and its global network of agents, the situation would be fully in hand within six months at the latest; the Federation would continue to march undeterred onwards and upwards. Ramming home their message of a bright and optimistic future, the screens overhead displayed a slideshow of the plans for the construction of the new Federation pharmaceutical plant in Andorra. The audience duly nodded and marvelled.
Olympia Angelopolis thanked her colleagues and took up the baton once more.
‘In the light of the recent crisis, however, and as a result of protracted debate, the Federation Ruling Council has reluctantly elected to implement a range of new measures. From now on, every registered Federation member will be required to report twice yearly to their local VIA office so that we may keep updated records of their movements and activities.’ She paused to let the audience absorb this, which they did with only a very few shrugs and raised eyebrows, then went on: ‘Second, as a result of diminished supplies, and to enable us to get production back to normal, we propose the introduction of a new levy on prescriptions of Solazal and Vambloc for all registered
