Angel Souls and Devil Hearts (14 page)

Roberto was about to reply when a snicker from the back of the room distracted him. He was close to losing his cool, but Commander Thomas did it for him.

“Is there something you find amusing, Chief Marshal Hannibal?” Thomas snapped at the shadow who still looked quite comfortable in his corner. She had returned her attention to
Jimenez, not really expecting an answer, when Hannibal stood and placed his open palms on the table in front of him, leaning forward.

“It’s that whole ‘Colonel’ thing, if you must know,” he said, unpleasantly. “Cody was never a colonel of anything, and I would think you military types would
be insulted by his continued use of that title. Also your implication that Gallagher and Nueva are even needed is insulting to myself and my deputy, Rolf Sechs.”

He motioned a hand to indicate Rolf.

“We had as much exposure to Mulkerrin and his methods as they, perhaps more. Not to mention the fact that I am far older than either of those upstarts, and far more skilled in matters of
war. Surely you all know my record.”

Hannibal smiled, and sat back down.

“You’re not trying to imply—” Commander Locke began.

“I have never found a need for implication, Commander,” Hannibal interrupted, dismissing the Brit.

“You have not answered Commander Thomas’s question, Chief Marshal,” Roberto said calmly, reasserting control of the room.

“No,” Hannibal agreed. “I have not.”

Rolf Sechs leaned forward, his size a distraction in itself and slammed his hand on the table. Even Hannibal jumped. The deputy marshal reached inside his jacket and withdrew a black plastic
strip, in the shape of a small calculator but much thinner, and a pen. He scribbled on the black strip, and as he did so, a computer-generated voice rose from it. Technology had made his muteness
less of a problem than ever.

“The chief . . . marshal’s . . . evasiveness aside,” Rolf wrote, “we are . . . unaware . . . of the reason for Gallagher and . . . Nueva’s absence. They have . . .
for the moment . . . disappeared. Colonel Cody . . . and I are blood . . . brothers. As such we share a . . . mental rapport. Several minutes . . . ago that . . . rapport was broken.”

Roberto Jimenez was certain he was not the only person in the room to notice the way Hannibal’s face lit up at this information, before being overcome by his usual mask once again. Clearly
he considered it very good news. Jimenez did not.

“Does that mean he’s dead?” Roberto asked, and Rolf scribbled in reply.

“I have felt the . . . death of a family . . . member before,” the computer voice said. “This was quite . . . different. But, Commander . . . most certainly not a . . . good
thing.”

“Thank you, Deputy Marshal,” Commander Thomas said, smiling at Rolf.

It was clear to Roberto that Elissa Thomas actually liked the big shadow. Though he hated the creatures, he had to admit to himsèlf a grudging admiration for the mute, especially in light
of his feelings toward Hannibal: disgust, mistrust, revulsion, hostility. Just to name a few. But Rolf Sechs seemed different, was different. Though he didn’t want to, Roberto automatically
trusted the man.

Not a man
, he reminded himself,
a thing.

“Yes,” he finally said, no longer hiding his hostility toward Hannibal, “thank you for stepping up to fulfill your chief marshal’s duties. Hopefully, it will not be a
constant necessity.”

“As for your other question, Commander Thomas,” Commander Gruber began, “my speaking for Commander Friedrich was requested by the Austrian president, not forced upon them by my
own country, if that was your implication.”

“Curiousity only, Hans,” Commander Thomas said, smoothing ruffled feathers.

“Friedrich is engaged in a relief and containment effort like nothing he has ever experienced. He is prepared to follow whatever plan we decide to implement,” Gruber added.

“To the plan, then,” Roberto said. “Deputy Commander Rodriguez will outline for you what we will refer to henceforth as ‘Operation: Jericho.’ Our job is to see that
the walls come tumbling down.”

Gloria Rodriguez had been silent until now. She stood and began to walk around the table, as Gruber had done, referring to the satellite image on the table.

“First let me say that during Operation: Jericho, using satellite and aerial recon, German and Austrian forces will be hunting and eliminating what we’ll call ‘strays.’
These will be the so-called monsters who run free. According to records from Venice, this should be a relatively simple task, which will be performed gradually until we have destroyed or contained
them all. Priority, however, is preventing any more of them from appearing, or, uh, coming through from wherever it is they come from.”

Hannibal snickered again.

“Commander Thomas will join her forces with Austrian troops at the airport, here—that’s about two miles west of the fortress—and then move east to Rainberg, half a mile
from it. Commander Gruber’s troops will rendezvous at Lehener Park, where the Ducks are being defended right now. This will enable—”

“Ducks?” Hannibal asked, and Rodriguez was surprised he showed any interest at all.

“Ducks, Chief Marshal, are what we call our land-and-water attack vehicles.”

Hannibal grunted.

“The Ducks will proceed upriver, destroying whatever they find in the water, and come ashore on the southern bank at Mozart’s Plaza, here. This will be the largest force and the most
difficult section of the city. At that time, Austrian and German forces will move south from Itzling and Hallwang to take the old city north of the river. Eventually if possible, they will move to
help the rest of us at the fortress.

“Commander Locke’s forces will meet with the Austrians at Hellbrunn Castle here in the south, then proceed north to eventually take up position at the stadium, here just east of the
fortress. Commander Surro’s troops will meet up with Commander Locke there, after they have swept from the hospital in Heuberg, here, southwest to the river, and made the crossing. From
there, both groups will take Nonnberg Abbey, on the mountainside, and will therefore be the closest to the fortress at that time.

“Chief Marshal Hannibal’s SJS forces will be split evenly among six groups. Thirty-six each with Commanders Locke, Surro, Gruber and Thomas, thirty-six with my Spanish paratroopers,
making the sky drop into the fortress, and thirty-six with a much smaller group, made up of soldiers hand-picked and led by Commander Jimenez. Chief Marshal Hannibal and Deputy Marshall Sechs are
also needed for this special force, which will, in effect, walk right up to this bastard’s door and break it in.”

Hannibal’s face showed no surprise, only resolution.

“If you think I will give up command of the SJS—”

“Nobody is asking you to,” Roberto interrupted. “You can maintain constant contact with them, but each force needs the knowledge and skills of your kind to—”

“My ‘kind,’” Hannibal said and stopped him. “I don’t believe I like the sound of that.”

Roberto’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Your
people
are needed everywhere, to best assist with this operation. And I need both of you with me because our job is, quite simply, to
take out the sorcerer himself, to kill Mulkerrin.”

Rolf’s voice-pad was still on the table, and now he picked up his pen again.

“Easier said than done,” he wrote.

Munich, Germany, European Union.
Wednesday, June 7, 2000, 12:59
A.M.
:

“I’m telling you, ’Berto, he’s got something going, and whatever it is, it’s going to be a danger to this operation!”

Roberto looked up from his desk, where he’d been keying in a coded message to UN Secretary General Nieto, and gave his second, Gloria Rodriquez, the once over. She was not angry, or
afraid, only frustrated that she couldn’t figure out what it was Hannibal had in mind. He could tell it was making her nuts by the way she was pacing, and the manner in which her eyes moved,
never stopping to rest on anything long enough to focus, as if she were literally, visually, looking for the answer in that very room.

“He’s dangerous,” Roberto Jimenez agreed, “and he’s certainly been scheming something, but we have no way of knowing it will interfere with this operation.
Certainly it’s in his best interests just as it is in ours to get rid of Mulkerrin once and for all.”

Roberto could almost hear Gloria’s mind racing. She was not a beautiful woman. Tough, yes, and in perfect shape. Those qualities, and her intelligence and personality, made her attractive.
Her face was pretty enough, dark hair and eyes, but she would never be beautiful. Eye of the beholder, Roberto thought.

“You didn’t see Sechs,” Gloria said. She had already told him about the gesture Rolf Sechs, the deputy marshal of the Shadow Justice System, had made when she had made brief
eye contact with him. Rolf had caught her attention, lifted a finger to his eye and bowed his head, almost imperceptibly, toward Hannibal. It was a clear message, an intentional warning:
watch
him
.

“Look, Glory, I want you to understand something.” Roberto keyed off his hand-held PC scrambler and slipped it inside his jacket pocket. “Whether our friend Rolf was signaling
you or had an itch, we would still watch Hannibal more closely than we have ever watched anyone, even the enemy. I despise the creature, and would feel much safer, much more confident about the
potential success of this op, if he were not around.”

“But we have our orders,” she said, finishing for him.

“Yes, we have our orders. But nobody said we shouldn’t be careful.”

Gloria looked at him, and Roberto felt her attention, like a physical thing, return to the reality of the room, to him. Her mind focused for the moment on him, and he liked that. He knew he
shouldn’t, but he did. Glory smiled at him, and Roberto couldn’t help but return that smile.

“Don’t worry,
bonita
,” he said, “we’ll keep him reined in.”

She went to him, then, and he held her in his arms, giving her small kisses on her head and cheek and neck and rubbing her back. There was nothing sexual in it, for the moment, but Roberto knew
that would come later. Their relationship had been building up to it for more than a year, and each day, as his feelings for her grew, so did his longing.

Gloria broke their embrace and looked up at Roberto, touching his face with her hand. She loved his eyes, the gray stripes in his cropped, silky hair. Part of her so wanted to just let go and
rely on his plans for controlling Hannibal, but she couldn’t. She was just as able as he, just as canny and intuitive, his equal in all but raw force and combat skill, and even with that she
was catching up every day—thanks most especially to his personal training. No, she couldn’t just leave the question of Hannibal to her superior officer. One mind might miss something
that two would not, and they could not afford such an error.

“What do you have in mind?” she asked in a low voice, understanding his reluctance to discuss the matter. Still, when he looked at her, she knew he realized everything she’d
just thought, and agreed with her.

“Well,” he began, and his tone brought them both back to business, “in a sense we’ve already started. Hannibal will be with us during this op, and Rolf will be there. If
anything happens, I’ll dismiss Hannibal and hand Rolf his command. Beyond that, I’ve got a number of operatives on both of them at all times.”

Gloria nodded slowly, but her mind was off again, a mile a minute, searching for extra precautions.

“His kind disgust me,” Roberto said suddenly, the ferocity of the statement distracting Gloria from her thoughts. “I don’t want to be anywhere near their kind, but we
need them now, their abilities. And as long as we need them, I’m going to be as near to them as is necessary to see this operation through. You’ve read the file on this
Mulkerrin.”

Gloria nodded, then patted the holster at her hip, inside of which her H-K auto nestled snugly, heavier than usual, pregnant with the weight of sixty silver rounds. According to the file, the
silver worked wonders on Mulkerrin’s “creatures,” the real shadows. But it also hurt, at least temporarily, the pseudo-shadows, the vampires. They couldn’t supply that
ammunition to their entire force—only she and Roberto carried it—but they’d see that the silver went to good use.

“I’ve read it,” she said. “It seems we know more about Mulkerrin than we do about Hannibal. I would hate to think we’re better prepared to take on this mad sorcerer
than a soldier on our own side.”

“He’s no soldier!” Roberto snapped. “And you’d be hard-pressed to convince me that he’s on our side, or that any of the shadows are for that matter. The SJS
is looking more and more like a smoke screen, like a survival tactic, every day. I can’t believe we’re letting them become even more organized, more dangerous, than before, and we only
have personal histories on a couple of dozen out of thousands. Hell, there could be thousands we don’t even know about.

“Aw, shit,” he said and shook his head. “I can’t be worrying about this now. We’ve got to get rid of Mulkerrin first, before his blackness taints everything. Then
we’ll worry about Hannibal and his clan.”

“Better the devil you know . . .” Gloria shook her head, sighing. “Takes on a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?”

Munich, Germany, European Union.
Wednesday, June 7, 2000, 1:01
A.M.
:

Rolf knew he’d taken a chance in gesturing to Rodriguez. If Hannibal had seen him . . . but he hadn’t, and that was important. Hannibal had to continue thinking
Rolf was no more than an inconvenience. It wouldn’t do to tip his hand too early. Rolf had guaranteed Meaghan and Alexandra that he would be ready when Hannibal made his move, and that he
would take the elder shadow down.

This way, the humans were also on the alert. Not that he’d needed to warn them. From what he could tell, they’d been plenty suspicious of Hannibal already, but he’d wanted to
be certain. And there was no way Rodriguez had misunderstood his meaning; in fact, she had nodded in return and almost given him away. But Hannibal was too distracted by the smug game he was
playing to notice anything.