I lie flat on my back in the trunk of Andy's car. My hearing is acute--up ahead I hear the noises of the compound, the guards talking at the gate. The black?ness in the trunk is not totally dark to me. I clearly see the white lab coat I have donned, the fake security badge pinned to my breast pocket. The badge is an old one of Andy's. I have cleverly put my picture over his, and changed the name. I am Lieutenant Lara Adams, Ph.D., a microbiologist on loan from the Pentagon. Andy says a large number of scientists have arrived from Back East. My makeup makes me look older. I should be able to blend in.
We stop at the security gate. I hear Andy speak to the guards.
"Another long night, Harry?" Andy asks.
"Looks like it," the guard replies. "Are you working till dawn?"
"Close. This night shift is a bear--1 don't know whether I'm coming or going," Andy hands some?thing to the guard, a pass that must be electronically scanned. He has to have one to leave the compound as well. I have one in my back pocket. Andy continues in a natural voice, "I just wish I could do a little better at the tables, and quit this stupid job."
"I hear you," the guard says. "How's your luck been holding out?"
"I won a couple of grand last night."
The guard laughs. "Yeah, but how much did you lose?"
Andy laughs with him. "Three grand!"
The guard hands the pass back. "Have a good night. Don't piss off the man."
I hear Andy nod. "It's a little late for that."
We drive into the compound. Andy has promised he'll park between two sheds, out of sight of the manned towers. From my earlier examination of the place, I am familiar with the spot. As the car moves, I feel confident we are heading straight for it. Especially when Andy turns to the left, stops, and turns off the engine. He climbs out of his car, shutting the door behind him, and walks away. I listen to his steps as he enters the main lab. So far so good.
I pop open the trunk and carefully peer out.
The car sits in shadow. No one is around. After slipping out of the car, I silently close the trunk. I smooth my lab coat over my slim body, adjust my red hair. My thick glasses make me look almost nerdy but smart.
"Lara Adams from Back East," I whisper. Back East means the Pentagon, Andy said. They never called the place by name.
"You have to get to the general. You have to control him."
Seymour's advice remains with me. Resisting the temptation to follow Andy into the main lab--where I know Joel is being held captive--I turn instead in the direction of a small house located behind the lab. This is the general's private quarters. I move onto his front steps, then pause. I don't press the doorbell; I know without knocking that there is no one at home. Andy warned me of this. In fact, he said the general was seldom at home. Andy wants me to get Joel and get the hell out of the place, as quickly as I can. He doesn't, of course, know I need to control the general in order to blow the place up. But I have warned him that when the fireworks start, he should get out of the compound as quickly as possible.
For a moment, I stand undecided.
"The general knows you'll come for Joel."
Seymour is wise, but I still think he overestimates the intelligence of the man. For example, I tell myself, look how easily I entered the compound. The general couldn't know that I was on my way. Certainly, I can't search the entire compound for him.
I decide to have a peek at Joel. After seeing exactly where he is, I'll be in a better position to figure out what to do next. I head back to the front entrance of the lab, where Andy disappeared.
The interior of the lab is a complex maze of halls and offices. It seems clear the real work of dissecting and analyzing is done downstairs. Men and women in lab coats mill about. There is an occasional armed soldier. No one pays any attention to me. Listening for an elevator, I hear the sound of people going up and down steps. I prefer a stairway to an elevator. The latter can be a death trap for an invading vampire.
I find the stairs and go down a couple of flights. Andy told me Joel is being held two stories below the surface, and that his cell is at the east end of the building, farthest from the main gate. On this lower floor there are fewer people; they speak in soft tones. Moving like the sharp professional I'm supposed to be, I make my way down a narrow hall toward the rear of the building. Faintly, I smell Joel's scent. But I cannot hear his heart beating, his breathing. The walls of his cell must be thick. The scent is my compass and I follow it carefully, sensitive to the way it is spread by the ventilation ducts, the passage of people.
I come to a security center, equipped with monitors and two armed soldiers. I hear everything inside the closed room. Cracking the door, I peer inside and see Joel on one of the screens. He sits in the corner of a brightly lit cage, pinned to the corner by a metallic wrist chain.
I do not see another vampire on a separate monitor. Odd.
I dose the door and knock. One of the guards answers.
"Yes? Can I help you?"
"Yes. My name is Dr. Lara Adams." I nod to Joel on the screen. "I am here to talk to our patient."
The guard glances at his buddy, back to me. "You mean, over the speaker, right?"
"I would prefer to talk to him in person," I say.
The guard shakes his head. "I don't know what you've been told, but no one talks to the--to the patient directly. Only over the speaker." He pauses, glances at my badge, my breasts. Boys will be boys. "Who gave you clearance to interview this guy?"
"General Havor,"
The guy raises an eyebrow. "He told you himself?"
"Yes. You can check with him if you like." I nod to the interior of the room. "May I come in?"
"Yes." The guard stands aside. "What did you say your name was?"
"Dr. Lara Adams." I gesture to the monitor. "I see this guy but where is he really? Nearby?"
"He's just around the corner," the other guard answers, while his buddy reaches for the phone. "He's in a box so thick an atomic bomb couldn't blast through it."
"Oh," I say. That is useful information.
My hands lash out, my fingers cutting the air like knives.
Both guards crumple on the floor, unconscious, not dead.
I hang up the phone. Around the corner I go.
I push the large red button to open the cage.
There is a hiss of air. A door as thick as a man's body swings aside.
"Joel," I cry softly, seeing him huddled in the corner, chained to the wall, burning like a dying coal as he shakes. 1 rush toward him. "I'm going to get you out of here."
"Sita," he gasps. "Don't!"
The door slams shut at my back. Locking me in.
Overhead, a TV monitor comes to life.
Andy stares down at me. Behind him stands the cruel-faced General Havor, wearing a barely disguised smirk. Yet there is no joy in Andy's expression as he slowly shakes his head and sighs. It is strange, but it is only then that I see my adversary clearly. The many years have reshapen his face, dulled his eyes, bruised his soft voice. Yet it is no excuse, not for a vampire as supposedly careful as I am. Right from the start I should have known who it was I was dealing with.
"Sita," he says sadly with a faint Italian accent. "E'passato tanto tempo datt' Inquisizione."
"Sita. It's been a long time since the Inquisition."
In a single horrifying instant, I understand every?thing.
"Arturo," I whisper.
