he asked. “I can have you court-martialed for what you have done today. I can make sure you spend the rest of your life behind bars.”
“Believe me, sir,” the monster replied, “I’m well aware of the likely consequences.”
They stared at each other, then Seward shouted for the operators who were holding Larissa to stop.
“Five minutes,” the director said. “Then she goes back to her cell. Whether she shows us anything or not.”
Admiral Seward stood in the middle of the Department 19 Ops Room, looking up at the huge screen that covered one wall. Frankenstein, Jamie, and Morris sat silently at three of the empty desks, waiting. Larissa stood against the far wall, the two operators training their weapons on her. She had described the location to a young communications officer, who was now tapping at a keyboard. Seward was standing silently, his eyes trained on the silver watch on his wrist. After a few seconds, he looked down at Frankenstein, smiled, and held up four fingers in the air.
“Sir, we have a satellite in geosynchronous orbit over Faslane,” said the communications officer. “Do I have permission to move her?”
“Granted, Lieutenant,” replied Seward. “Proceed.”
“Ninety seconds to target, sir.”
“Very well.”
The screen bloomed into life, showing HMNB Clyde in stunning high-definition detail. The naval base, home to the UK’s Trident nuclear submarines, hugged the eastern shore of Gare Loch, twenty-five miles west of Glasgow on the Firth of Clyde. Jamie marveled at the detail of the live pictures, beaming down from a highly classified Skynet 6 satellite six hundred kilometers above the earth’s surface.
The picture began to move, slowly at first, then with rapidly accelerating speed as the satellite’s engines fired, sending it east-southeast, over Southern Scotland and into Northern England. It flew over the Cheviot Hills and slowed as it approached Alnwick, settling over a grand country estate on the outskirts of the market town. The resolution intensified as the satellite’s powerful cameras zoomed in on the collection of buildings filling the screen.
A large house, built in the shape of a wide capital H, was surrounded by a number of outbuildings: stables, sheds, garages. Gravel tracks linked them together, winding through thick copses of trees and immaculately manicured lawns. A swing set was clearly visible at the rear of the house, beside a sandbox and a pair of small football goals.
Nothing moved. The image was as still as a photograph.
Seward checked his watch. “One minute,” he said.
Jamie flashed an anxious glance at Frankenstein, then looked over at Larissa and was surprised to see that she was not paying any attention at all to the screen. She was looking directly at him. When his eyes met hers, she made no attempt to look away, or to pretend she had been looking elsewhere. She simply returned his gaze, her eyes calm, her face pale, her skin flawless.
I could stare at her forever.
“Contact,” shouted the communications officer, and the spell was broken.
All eyes in the Ops Room turned to the screen. Walking slowly between the main house and one of the outbuildings was a large, hunched figure.
“That’s Anderson,” breathed Frankenstein.
“Confirm identity,” said Seward, and the lieutenant took hold of the small joystick that emerged from the middle of his console. He guided the satellite’s camera north, in the direction the figure was heading, and tracked it on maximum zoom. The man-it was a man, the slightly balding pate now clearly visible-walked quickly, his head level, his shoulders back, as calmly as if he were taking an evening stroll along one of the long sand beaches that were little more than five miles to the east. He reached the outbuilding, took a brief look to his left and right, then glanced upward, and pushed open the door, disappearing from view.
“Freeze that image!” shouted Frankenstein.
The communications officer wound the satellite feed back and paused it at the millisecond when the man had tipped his head backward, as though he was looking directly at them. The picture sharpened into focus, and a round, childish face with small features emerged into crystal clarity.
“There they are,” said Larissa. “Where Alexandru goes, Anderson goes.”
“Run it,” said Seward.
Frankenstein groaned. “Sir, it’s obvious-”
“I said run it,” interrupted the director. “I’ve had more than enough of people playing hunches today.”
The lieutenant punched buttons, opening a window and entering the Department 19 mainframe. He dragged the still of the man’s face into a box and hit SEARCH. Less than ten seconds later, the computer returned its results. SUBJECT NAME: ANDERSON, (UNKNOWN)
SPECIES: VAMPIRE
PRIORITY LEVEL: A2
KNOWN ASSOCIATES: RUSMANOV, ALEXANDRU
RUSMANOV, VALERI
RUSMANOV, ILYANA MOST RECENT SIGHTING: 3/24/2007
WHEREABOUTS: UNKNOWN
Jamie breathed out a sigh of relief and looked at Larissa, gratitude all over his tired face. Larissa smiled at him, and mouthed, “Told you.”
“Zoom out and switch to infrared,” said Seward.
The picture switched from the still of Anderson to a live close-up of the building he had just entered, then drew out and up until it again showed the entire estate. Then, as the infrared kicked in, it changed to a series of colored swirls; waves of dark blue and black where the cold woods and lawns had been, the H of the main house a rainbow of yellow and orange, studded with moving blobs of hot, dark red.
“There must be thirty of them in there,” said the lieutenant.
Frankenstein turned his chair and looked at the director. Seward was staring at the screen, his jaw set firm, assessing what he was seeing in front of him. After a long pause, he spoke, and the monster closed his eyes with relief.
“Scramble a strike team,” said Seward. “Four squads. Full weapons and tactical. I want wheels up in thirty minutes.” He looked down at the men in the seats below him, as if suddenly remembering they were there. “Frankenstein, Morris, you will lead squads two and four. Carpenter, you will be limited to the transport. I would leave you here, but given the events of today, I believe I would rather have you where I can keep an eye on you.”
Jamie opened his mouth to protest, but Seward cut him off.
“Do not try my patience any further, young man. I’m giving you a gift by letting you come at all. Don’t make me take it back.”
Jamie closed his mouth.
“Security,” continued the director. “Take her back to her cell, then report to the hangar for briefing.”
Suddenly, the whole room was moving. Seward stepped down from the command platform and strode toward the door. The two operators who had been guarding Larissa took her by the shoulders and led her in the same direction, to the elevator that would return her to the cellblock, deep in the bowels of the base.
Jamie jumped to his feet, calling her name. She looked back at him briefly, then turned away, allowing herself to be led out of the room.
“It’s not fair,” he shouted at Frankenstein and Morris, who had risen from their chairs and were watching him. “She did what she promised.”
“She can’t go,” said Frankenstein. “You know she can’t.”
Jamie looked at Morris, who stared uncomfortably at the ground.
“Fine,” he spat. “Let’s go and get my mother. We can deal with Larissa when we get back.”
34
