“Armanihandjob, too?”
Church didn’t respond. I was two for two with nobody laughing at that joke.
“We have to face the possibility that our enemies will detonate the remaining two devices as soon as they know about the hits.”
“Well, you’re just a ray of sunshine,” I said. “I so look forward to our little chats.”
“If you want something cheerier, I hear that Best Buy is hiring.” He cocked his head at me. “Until you determine that the device is, in fact, at the refinery, you will be operating under limited rules of engagement. Avoid conflict but don’t get taken. If fired upon, you are not authorized to use lethal force. We are not at war with Iran.”
“So don’t start one,” I said, “yeah, I get that. You’re asking a lot from Tasers and beanbag rounds.”
“This order comes from the president, not from me. However, make sure the nonlethal weapons aren’t all you are carrying.”
“Something else,” I said. “Khalid brought up the question of whether these dhampyri are vulnerable to garlic? ”
“It varies. I know that some of them have been killed by Sabbatarians who attacked them thinking they were Upierczi. In heavy doses garlic is fatal to them too. But it’s not a matter of simply being around garlic. The garlic oil has to be introduced into the bloodstream, or in powder form into the lungs. They will be wearing ballistic shielding and each of them carries injectable epinephrine. Every soldier knows there are risks.”
He held out his hand.
“Good hunting, Captain.”
Chapter Ninety-Eight
Private Villa Near Jamshidiyeh Park
Tehran, Iran
June 16, 3:44 a.m.
After the call to LaRoque was finished, Vox was so charged with energy that he had to run around the house for several minutes just to calm down. His whole body seemed to be cranking out more energy than a nuclear power plant. He ran up and down the stairs twenty times. Finally, breathing heavily and bathed in sweat, he came back to his office and made the second call.
“It’s the middle of the damn night, Hugo,” Rasouli answered in an angry mumble. “This had better be important, or so help me.”
“Shut up and listen,” said Vox in a deep growl. “We have problems. The thing about using the phony flash drive to get the DMS to take out the Red Order-that worked like a charm. Church and his crew are ready to swat that psychopath LaRoque. You’ll come out of it looking like a hero. Rah, rah, we can all celebrate the new president of Iran. But,” Vox said, leaning heavily on the word, “there’s a wrinkle and it’s a big goddamn wrinkle. Those nukes are real. No, don’t say anything. I know what I told you, but it turns out LaRoque is even crazier than I thought he was. He didn’t just buy cases for them; turns out he had no intention of just using the photos as blackmail. No, this sick fuck bought real nukes from some black-market thugs in Kazakhstan.”
“Beard of the prophet…”
“And there really is one under the Aghajari refinery.”
The noise Rasouli made sounded to Vox like someone was choking a turkey. He jammed his mouth into the crook of his elbow to stifle a laugh. Then he took a breath and said, “Here’s the kicker. That agent you met, Captain Ledger, he’s going after the nuke. Yes, the one at Aghajari. And he’s doing it with a full American Spec Ops team. Right now. Today or maybe tomorrow at the latest. If you’re going to do something, you had better do it right goddamn now.”
He hung up before Rasouli’s head could explode. And because he couldn’t hold back his own laughter a moment longer.
Chapter Ninety-Nine
Outskirts of Tehran
June 16, 3:52 a.m.
I left the warehouse and began walking back to where Echo Team was waiting. Ghost trotted along beside me. He was still a little off his game from the Taser and the fights yesterday, but he was coming back.
Before I was halfway there, I heard a familiar voice.
“Joseph!”
I turned and, despite everything, I smiled.
Ghost, the big furry flirt, wagged his tail.
Violin ran through the shadows to catch up then slowed to a stop five feet away. We looked at each other and my smile faltered. So did hers.
“Wow,” I said, “you really know how to show a guy a good time. Best first date ever.”
Violin laughed.
She had a good laugh. A genuine laugh, and given everything that I now knew about her I wondered how it was possible for her to have any trace of a sense of humor. It said a lot about the person she was. It was that indomitability of spirit that made me believe that women like her and her mother and the others would not only survive their own history but one day rise completely above it. I wanted to say that to her, but now was in every way not the right time.
“I don’t know where to put all of this in my head,” I admitted.
“I know,” she said. “I’m sorry you have to.”
Her voice was a little sad. She knelt down to pet Ghost, who immediately lost his damn mind and rolled on the ground like a puppy. So much for the impressive dignity of the military trained dog. She even found his happy spot that made him kick his leg.
“Over the years,” Violin said as she stroked Ghost’s thick fur, “different groups have deliberately clouded the public’s perception about vampires. First it was the church, labeling them as actual satanic creatures. Then it was the Red Order, building a mystique around them so that they would be feared, but also misunderstood. The Order were the first ones to distort the powers and vulnerabilities of the Upierczi. Many of the classic writings about vampires were influenced by the Order. Leone Allacci, Reverend Sabine Baring-Gould, Dom Augustin Calmet, Reverend Montague Sommers, Walter Map, William of Newburgh, and even Bram Stoker either worked for the Order or were heavily influenced by them. It was more useful to have people believe that vampires were supernatural. Like the hate crimes the Order and the Tariqa committed, such beliefs drove people back to the protection of the church.”
“It’s disgusting,” I said.
She nodded. “Over the centuries, though, even the Upierczi have come to believe some of it. Their leader, Grigor, believes himself to be a true immortal, a kind of dark angel. There have been Upierczi who have gone mad because they began believing that they were actually monsters. They collapsed in terror at the sight of the cross or the Eucharist. Propaganda is a powerful weapon.”
“Yes, and that’s the sort of thing Vox loves to play with. God help us all if he ever starts working directly with the Upierczi. It’s bad enough he’s screwing around with Rasouli and LaRoque.”
“I agree. If he was with Grigor, we’d be doomed.” She glanced down at Ghost. “Do you know why the knight who attacked you in your hotel room did not simply kill your dog?”
“I’ve wondered about it.”
“The knights are afraid of white dogs. There are many legends about the magical powers of white dogs. Vampire hunters have used them for centuries to find the graves of vampires. A lot of cultures, especially the Greeks, have always believed that dogs can foresee evil. And of course there’s the legend of the fetch dog.”
