American Blood: A Vampire's Story (18 page)

Ryan shrugged, defensively. “I know that somehow it wasn’t your fault and you were forced into it . . . but it was brutal, how you killed him.”

Calida placed her right hand against the side of Ryan’s face for several seconds then got back to her feet. “It was the kindest death I could give him.”

“Kind? You took more than just his blood.”

“And what should I have done? Let his dying eyes watch me spit his flesh onto the floor?”

“Why did it happen?”

There is something inside me . . . something you made.

Ryan flinched, startled. “What is inside you?”

Calida stepped backward and Ryan could see the frustration in her eyes. “Just get some sleep . . . I’m going to take a walk.”

Ryan watched her leave his room. He knew he had screwed up just now, with her. As he finally laid down on the cot his mind worked on a growing suspicion until he closed his eyes and surrendered to the blackness of sleep.

S
iri had been waiting twenty minutes to meet with the Director in his office. She couldn’t recall him ever being anything but punctual with an appointment. Two men were already sitting in the reception area when she arrived and she politely acknowledged them as she sat down. They were probably agents although she couldn’t recall seeing either of them before. She hoped that their appointment would go quickly so she could get back to her research.

“Doctor Lei?”

Siri looked over at the Director’s male receptionist who smiled at her and said, “You may go in now.”

Siri stood up. “Thank you.” She walked over and opened the door. The Director was sitting behind his desk with several piles of folders and paperwork taking up most of the available space.

He glanced at her and motioned toward a chair placed in front of his desk. “Oh yes, Doctor Lei, please.”

Siri paused at the door for a moment, but then continued in, walked across the carpet that had the agency’s official emblem sewn into the threading, and sat down.

The Director returned his attention to a document he had been reading and after an awkward moment put it down. “There has been a change in our studies regarding Agent Villena.”

Siri remained calm and tugged a wrinkle from her clinic jacket. “I don’t understand.”

“Continued funding for Doctor Ryan’s research is being cut back.” The Director looked at her. “Yes, I see your concern, but I must work within budget constraints. After all, the economy is a mess right now, for everyone.”

“Have you informed Doctor Ryan about this?”

“He shall be . . . made aware during the mission that his services are to be placed on hold, indefinitely.”

Siri looked past the Director at the large window behind him. “Is that why I’m here because I’m also part of the cutback?”

“Of course not.” The Director smiled and held up an impressively large file. “You have been a valued member of my research staff for . . . my—has it been so long?—seven years. And I want you to continue here, with us. And of course I have taken into consideration your sacrifices, namely the loss of your husband.”

Siri pursed her lips, took a small spiral pad from her clinic jacket, and began to write. “That wasn't anyone's fault . . . he didn't know the full range of that creature's abilities." Siri stopped writing and looked at the Director. "If anything was responsible it was the agency's impatience."

"I will allow that," the Director said. "But it did kill him and the others . . . and yet you harbor no animosity toward agent Villena, or do you?"

"She is unique, and she's blameless in what made her a vampire."

"Yes, perhaps, but she's a killer all the same."

"And what about Calida," Siri asked. "What is to become of her?"

“Once she completes her mission she will return here and continue her service to this country.”

Siri stopped writing and looked at the Director. “Is that all she is to be used for?”

“What other uses do you suggest? She cannot be left on her own, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Of course I do.” Siri let out an exasperated breath. “But we might still be able to help her . . . Doctor Ryan’s research has made critical discoveries into Calida’s condition. We shouldn’t rule out possible treatment.” Siri lowered her voice. “It seems pointless to throw it all away.”

“Perhaps, but as I said before, a decision has been made to redirect our efforts from the laboratory to the field.”

“What do you want from me?”

“That is a delicate question.” The Director folded his hands on the top of his desk. “Your talents shouldn’t be wasted within the confines of a laboratory, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’m a research physician, first. The historical studies, the field work only support that cause.”

“I see . . . very commendable.” The Director adjusted his position. “And yet you have at times put aside your Hippocratic Oath. Haven’t you?”

“I’m not aware of doing such a thing.”

“Oh come now, Doctor Lei. Let’s not waste time with this fruitless ignorance.” The Director began to straighten up his desk. “You have been at the center of our efforts to capture Miss Villena and quietly stood by as agents were sacrificed toward that end.”

“I didn’t send agents into the field,” Siri said. “Anyone who has died has done so by your orders.”

“And yet my orders are based on your recommendations.”

“I haven’t made any recommendations to risk someone’s life.”

The Director smiled at her. “It’s merely an exercise in semantics. You call them reports.” He patted the large file that he had held up.

“Why am I here?”

“As I said, our efforts are moving to the field, which is where, and please accept my compliments, you are without peer.”

“What kind of field work are we discussing? I’m not clear on what you’re asking.”

“It concerns those caves in Valencia. An expedition to find them is being arranged based on your recommendations—forgive me, reports—and I want you to lead that expedition.”

“So this is about the stone? Doctor Ryan is right. You are crazy, and that’s my professional opinion.”

“Your opinion of me is of no concern. This stone, if it meets expectations, is a matter of National Security.”

“Why is everything always a threat to America? This stone, if it still exists, should remain lost. It wasn’t meant to be found.”

“If by some unfortunate happenstance the stone was to be discovered by those who harbor ill will toward our country we could find ourselves at a terrible disadvantage.”

“Have you been reading the research reports? This stone is a deadly source of radiation. Anyone who gets near it will suffer from acute radiation poisoning.”

“Precautions must be taken, of course, but that is mere detail.”

“And what if it’s found?”

“It will need to be carefully studied, of course.”

“By who?”

“Our good Professor Balken would assuredly jump at the opportunity to lead the research.”

“But not Doctor Ryan!”

“The stone is really outside his field. Its proper study requires a physicist, not a molecular biologist. Doctor Ryan’s contributions to this project our nearing an end.” The Director reached for his pipe and grinned at her. “He will be properly rewarded for his efforts, I assure you.”

“Then I refuse,” Siri said. “Finding that stone would be a tragic mistake. People will die and I won’t be a party to it.”

The Director put down his pipe and moved his hand to a panel of buttons next to his phone. “I am very sorry to hear that, Doctor. Your cooperation would have made things much easier, yet I respect your decision.”

Siri put the small notepad back in her pocket and clicked her pen. “The risks are too great. And it is because of the Hippocratic Oath that I’m unable to help the agency with this foolishness.”

“Your commitment to the medical profession is duly noted.” The Director looked past Siri. “Gentlemen, if you please.”

Siri spun around in her chair but two powerful hands grabbed her by the head and shoulder.

“What are you—?”

A syringe was brought to her neck.

“It is useless to struggle, Doctor.” The Director picked up his pipe and began to light it. “Your cooperation was inevitable, you understand.” He then took a long draw and nodded.

Siri felt the needle stab into the side of her throat and could feel a burning as the contents of the syringe emptied. The last thing she saw as her vision faded was the Director peacefully letting out a long puff of smoke.

“Sua Sponte”—
U.S. Army Rangers

R
yan woke up at 5:00 AM and felt surprisingly warm. He opened his eyes and reached for his watch that he had placed on the floor next to the cot. He had only slept five hours and decided he could probably use a couple more. He started to roll onto his back but something stopped him. He pushed himself up and looked over. Calida laid against him, her eyes closed. She wore a camouflage tee shirt and a pair of brown army issue boxers. He took a few seconds to notice that both items had different names stamped on them.

Ryan suddenly reached up and felt around his neck. Everything seemed okay. He wondered if he should have accompanied her during that late night walk. It wasn’t Calida he worried about. The Special Forces were the ones needing protection.

Ryan placed his hand on Calida’s shoulder and was rewarded with a sudden jolt to his mind. To compose himself he forced his breathing to slow down. After regaining his calm, Ryan gently pushed on Calida’s shoulder and said, “Hey . . . I need to talk to you.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Sorry, I thought you were asleep.”

“I was reaching into Husaam, but you interrupted me.”

Ryan took an uneasy breath. “I’m sorry . . . but why are you here?”

Calida opened her eyes. “Afghanistan or your bed?”

“I just didn’t expect to wake up with you—I mean next to you.”

“Don’t worry; I didn’t do anything with you.”

“But did you do anything to me?”

Calida propped herself up using an elbow. “Like what?”

“Never mind.” Ryan swung his legs over the edge of the cot and looked around the dismal room. “I don’t belong here.”

“You shouldn’t have come . . . it’s too dangerous here, for you.”

“And this doesn’t have any effect on you, how you’re being used?”

“It does, but you and I see the world differently.”

“How so?”

“Time for me is always in the now. I don’t worry about what might happen. It comes with living so long, I think.”

“I envy your patience.” Ryan stretched his neck muscles. “I’m too busy worrying about—”

“Stop.” Calida put a finger to her lips and was silent for several moments. “He’s awake.”

Ryan turned toward her. “Husaam? What’s he doing?”

“
Fajr.
”

“What’s a
fajr?
”

“Shhh . . . .” Calida rolled onto her back and looked up at the bent ceiling. She slowly blinked several times and then seemed to concentrate. “He is difficult . . . very disciplined with his faith.”

“Can you get the time—”

“Stop talking.”

Ryan nodded and gave Calida an embarrassed look.

“It will be at a place near his home during a peace
jirga
.” Calida closed her eyes. “
He
will be there . . . it’s tonight after the
isha’a
.”

“When is that?”

“The time of
isha’a
begins upon the arrival of complete darkness. There can be no sunlight in the sky.” Calida let out a sudden, short breath.
“Amir al-Mu’minin
will be there after the evening prayers.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“It’s clear because it’s part of his prayers.”

“You’re eaves dropping on his prayers?”

“It’s the easiest time to join his mind.” Calida reached over, grabbed onto Ryan’s shoulder, and pulled herself up. “Why does it matter?”

“Catholic upbringing I guess. It doesn’t seem right to listen in like this . . . prayers are private.”

“What if prayers include killing people?”

“Good question, and I can’t answer it.”

“Doesn’t America listen in on everything?”

“Yeah, but this is an even more intrusive way of doing it.”

“That offensive little man doesn’t worry about how things are obtained . . . so why do you?”

“Because I’m not an evil maniac.”

“And what about me?”

Ryan forced a grin. “Well, compared to him you’re an angel.”

Calida sweetly smiled. “You’re the second person to call me that in the last week.”

“An angel? Hmm, who was the first?”

Calida scraped her upper teeth along her bottom lip. “Just a man who had an unfortunate ending.”

“It wasn’t—”

“It was someone else.”

“The guy on the yacht?”

“He would have died anyway.”

“Let’s not have any more conversations about someone you ate.”

Calida raised an eyebrow. “Then don’t bring it up.”

“That won’t be a problem.” Ryan stood up and walked over to his three bags of gear. “I’m gonna see if I can get a shower around here and try one of those sandwiches in the conference room.”

“Why don’t you take a swim? The water is warm and with the cold air it’s refreshing.”

“That’s where you went last night?”

“I didn’t have anything to wear, but Sergeant Bob and another soldier—”

“I don’t need to know any more. As long as you didn’t kill anyone we don’t have to talk about it.”

Don’t be jealous . . . almost nothing happened.

“I’m not, and that’s really convenient. I’ll never be able to win an argument with you.” Ryan stopped going through his gear and looked at Calida. “What does almost nothing mean?”

“You really want to know?”

Ryan took a breath and relaxed. “No, just—just forget I asked,” and he turned back toward his gear. He took out a set of clothes that were specially prepared by the agency before he left. Each article had a tag with its Pashtun name on it. The top was called a
qmis,
which was a traditional loose-fitting shirt that reached to the knees. Ryan placed that to the side and held up a pair of
shalwars,
which were full trousers tied at the waist with a string. There was also a vest and a pair of thick leather shoes called
chaplay.
The clothes and leather shoes all had a well worn look about them and even had sewn repairs in random locations.

“Where’s your turban?”

“I’m not going to wear one while at the camp. Once we get going I’ll put it on.” Ryan felt his chin. “But I could have used a month to get the beard going.”

“You don’t have to be a Pashtun male,” Calida said. “You just need to appear like one.”

“We’ll just have to see.” Ryan picked up the clothes and shoes and left the room. He made his way down the poorly lit main hallway of the bunker and walked into what had been described as a conference room. He placed the clothes down on a ping-pong table, went over to the refrigerator, and grabbed a sandwich along with a bottle of spring water. He quickly ate and finished off the water. Ryan left the room, walked around the bunker, and found a bathroom with cracked walls, but the fiberglass shower stall appeared intact. He reached inside and was surprised when water came out of the showerhead. His elation vanished when he discovered only cold water was available.

Ryan hesitated outside the stall for a moment, but he then decided that given the circumstances, a cold shower was exactly what he needed.

T
he briefing began as planned, although getting Calida to the conference room on time revealed something unexpected regarding her kind. Ryan had tried to wake her at 1200 hours. She wouldn’t come out of her sleep. He then spent twenty minutes talking, prodding, and even splashing water on her face before she opened her eyes. After she did wake up she was unable to get her clothes on so Ryan had no other option but to dress her. He concluded that vampires at rest in the middle of the day, even when they’re forty feet underground, are heavy sleepers.

Ryan carried Calida to the briefing room and had to keep an arm around her as they sat next to each other just so she wouldn’t fall over. She was semi alert and seemed to struggle to keep her eyes open.

As the briefing started Sergeant Bob, a second Army Ranger, two army helicopter pilots, and the camp’s commanding officer, a Colonel in the Green Berets, attended along with Ryan and Calida. Sergeant Bob handed out a briefing packet to everyone.

“At 1800 hours we will take a hop with the Night Stalkers from the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment.” Sergeant Bob nodded at the two pilots with arm patches depicting a winged sword and their regiment number. “Our ride tonight will be aboard a Black Hawk MH-60L and will fly along this southeastern route.” Sergeant Bob traced a pencil on a large map that had been unrolled on the ping-pong table. “We’ll cross the border and egress the Khojack Pass to a point just north of right here.” He stuck the point onto a spot on the map. “We will loiter here until receiving a landing confirmation from our two guests.”

“That’s not a great place to be in a holding pattern,” one of the SOAR pilots said. “The Pakistani army has a string of posts along the pass. They’ve been taking shots every time I get within a mile of it.”

Sergeant Bob respectfully turned to the man standing next to him. “Colonel Bullick.”

The Colonel was a tall, bald, brute of a man with a lower jaw that appeared to have been chiseled out of pitted granite. He eyed the pilot. “Full electronic counter measures will be used.” He then looked hard at Ryan. “You’ll be given five minutes of loiter to confirm the landing. I don’t care if the orders for your mission came from God. I’m not going to risk my men any more than I have to. So you get five minutes.”

“Colonel is something wrong with her?” the other Ranger asked.

The Colonel leaned forward on the ping-pong table that began to creak from his weight. “What’s going on here, Mister?”

“She . . . she’ll be fine,” Ryan answered. “As soon as it’s dark she’ll be ready to go.”

“She looks like she’s drunk,” the Colonel said.

Calida tried to steady her head. “I don’t
drink
. . . alcohol.”

“I don’t know how much you’ve been told,” Ryan said. “But she’s . . . she’s different. I guess that’s the best way to put it.”

The Colonel straightened up and the table’s legs squealed as they recoiled from the strain. “We’ve been told she has some kind of confirmed mental insight, but it sounds like bullshit to me and it’s a crazy thing to risk men and equipment on.”

“I understand your concern, Colonel, but she will be more than ready in a few hours. It’s a side effect of—of her ability.”

“She’s talented,” Sergeant Bob said and exchanged grins with the pilot.

“Knock it off, Sergeant.”

“Yes Sir!”

“All right, Mister, you say she’ll be ready and I’ll take you at your word,” the Colonel said. “We’ll carry out the tasking as ordered. Now once she confirms that the meeting is definite and she egresses the Black Hawk, the mission support will go as follows, Sergeant?”

“Thank you, Sir.” Sergeant Bob rolled out another map that was a blow-up of the mountains to the north and west of Quetta, Pakistan. “This narrow valley here that runs more or less north to south is where our tribal chief, who is called the
Sardar
by his tribe, or
tabar
, has built his compound. The buildings are all of recent construction using mud and rocks for the smaller dwellings, but the
Sardar’s
residence is brick and mortar. There’s about a dozen above ground structures in total and it’s guarded more along the west side than the east.” The Sergeant presented a close up aerial photograph of the site. “The tribal meetings usually take place in this building which is connected to the
Sardar’s
main house on the south side. Seventy yards to the north are these other buildings that house most of his fighters along with their weapons cache and three Soviet built T-55 tanks.”

“They’ve got tanks?”

“Soviets left behind a lot of hardware when they pulled out of Afghanistan in 1989,” the Colonel replied and nodded at Sergeant Bob to continue.

“Agent Villena will have to hike down into the valley from the drop off point and make her way along this gully that runs down from these hills and skirts the compound to the east.” Sergeant Bob shook his head at the aerial photograph. “It’s tough terrain here, and if you make any noise, or are discovered, you’ll be in a world of hurt. Women are never outside the compound at night.”

“I . . . won’t get caught.”

“According to the information we received from you earlier this morning,” and Sergeant Bob looked at Ryan, “tonight’s meeting will take place off compound after the
Sardar’s
evening prayers.”

The Colonel winced at his briefing packet. “What’s the time estimate?”

“Sir, our latest intel has the
Sardar
taking his prayer at 9:00 PM every night. He never deviates. So the meeting with the
Amir
will be at some time before mid-night.”

“That’s damn loose timing.”

“Yes Sir, but since the meeting is off-site it still must be somewhere close by, which means a cave.”

“Does it have to be in a cave?” Ryan asked.

“There aren’t any other structures in this valley. However there are caves peppering the cliff faces on both sides of the valley.”

“So we just drop her off alone into this valley?”

“No, Mister. You, me, and Squalls there will jump off with her.”

“While she goes off toward this compound what will we be doing?”

“We have our own little cave up along the north end of the valley in these rocky hills. It’s about three miles from the compound. You can set up that tracking equipment of yours there so you’ll have decent line of sight. The important thing is getting away from the Black Hawk unseen. It’ll be too suspicious if three men and a woman in native clothes are observed jumping out of a US Army helicopter.”

“But won’t the helicopter be heard?”

“Probably not,” the pilot replied. “We’ll be landing just on the other side of this hill here . . . the 60L has ultra quiet turbo shafts and special rotor blades. You wouldn’t know it’s there until I land it on your head.”

Squalls loudly cleared his throat but didn’t say anything.

“The real danger is from Pakistani radar,” the Colonel said. “So expect a low and wild ride.”

“Now once she separates from us she has to be clean of any weapons or communication devices,” Sergeant Bob said. “Even underneath her garments she can’t try to hide anything. The Taliban are beyond paranoid. They deploy metal detectors all over the place to protect the
Amir
.”