Operation

OPERATION:

Save the Innocent

From the Declassified Files of

Team of Darkness

Tony Ruggiero

Copyright © 2008 Tony Ruggiero

Cover Art © 2008 Christina Yoder

All rights reserved. Reproduction or utilization of this work in any form, by any means now known or hereinafter invented, including, but not limited to, xerography, photocopying and recording, and in any known storage and retrieval system, is forbidden without permission from the copyright holder.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published by

Dragon Moon Press

www.dragonmoonpress.com

OPERATION:

Save the Innocent

From the Declassified Files of

Team of Darkness

Tony Ruggiero

dragonmoonpress.com

Books by Tony Ruggiero:

Aliens and Satanic Creatures Wanted: Humans Need Not Apply

Alien Deception

Alien Revelation

Coven

Operation: Immortal Servitude

Operation: Save the Innocent

Operation: Face the Fear

Operation: Endgame

Dedication

Special thanks to those readers that have hung in there patiently waiting for the sequel. Without you, there would not be the Team of Darkness Chronicles.

Thanks to the many friends and special people for being

a part of my life and contributing to the success of this book

and those yet to come.

To Gwen, the publisher, and Val, the editor, thank you

 for your confidence and support in making a

dream a scary reality.

Prologue

Dear J,

It’s been a while since I’ve written. I thought…well, I thought perhaps it was over and I didn’t need to talk to anyone about what was happening. But now, I feel like something is going to happen—something very bad. How do I know this? I don’t know—call it a hunch or something. I’ve been having this dream lately. I feel as if a dark curtain is descending and the audience is applauding and demanding an encore performance. But the performers are dead. All of them—dead. They are from the past, yet they demand entry into today as if they have a right to be here. They refuse to be dead and instead play a role…

God, if only you knew how ironic those words are…the past just won’t stay dead. But it’s not just past events. It’s them. They’re dead, but in a way they’re more alive than many of the living. They…well, really he, can be so damn philosophical about this subject and at times, no matter how repulsive I find the subject, I almost have to agree with him. I have never felt so torn between two diverse beliefs.

But—wait, I’m sorry. You’ll have to forgive me; I’m talking like you know everything that happened since the last time I wrote. After looking at what I sent you earlier, you must now realize what I did; the discovery of the vampires, their capture and their use on dark operation missions. I know it sounds bizarre, but it’s the truth. You have in your possession the facts and they are as substantiated as I can make them in case…well, in case anything ever happens to me.

So much has happened since I first wrote, but I know that you don’t need to hear everything. If you did, well you might question things…namely my sanity, which would cast doubt upon the entire chain of events. I’m not crazy. At times I think I am like Dante, with my own vision of looking into Hell. But mine is a much more realistic version, non-fiction rather than fiction. Look at me…now I’m the one philosophizing. It’s catching. That bastard, he has that kind of effect on you after a while.  When you have been around something so presumed evil, and yet so damn rational, you no longer know what to believe.

Let me try and get back on track. Since I am sending a new letter, I obviously survived the mission. But more importantly, my attempt to try and end the madness…I wanted to say succeeded, but that may not be correct. As I mentioned in my previous letter, with either outcome, I still lost by trading one form of a nightmare for another. Regardless, my plan to release the creatures was successful. It came off well and satisfied everyone and to my surprise, General Stone took it well. First mistake: that should have started setting off the alarm bells, but I guess I wanted to see it end so much I never interpreted his reaction correctly. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s get back to what happened. 

Several months after the operation, when it appeared that it might truly be all over with, I saw in the newspaper that something unusual was happening with the criminal element here. They were disappearing. It didn’t take long for me to understand what was happening. Dimitri and the rest of them were adapting, and learning how to survive in their new environment. Hence my other form of punishment—knowing that those mysterious disappearances—aw, hell—I should call it what it really is, all those deaths were due to my decision to let the creatures free upon the peoples of the world!

I went out to meet him. I knew they would be able to figure out I was looking for them. I caught up with Dimitri in a seedy bar near the Naval base. I was amazed at how he had transformed himself! He blended in perfectly. But it wasn’t only his clothes; it was his demeanor as well. They had adapted to their new environment as well as any creature struggling to survive. Not only that, but he had quickly learned his way around the ever so important financial aspects of living in our society. You see, this is why I find it hard to hate them. They are so good at what they do—survive.

We talked. By the time we were done, he made it pretty clear that my allowing them to escape merely evened the score between us since I was the one who had implemented their capture in the Balkans. Was it a threat? Perhaps it was, but even I have to admit that it was well grounded. Regardless, it didn’t matter. He said that they would be leaving and returning to their home country. At that, I felt the most relief. I knew I had interrupted some kind of cycle by bringing them here. If there was any chance of setting things right—then that was the one thing that might do it. Then he did what they do so well—he looked into my soul. Call it a weird feeling but I knew he saw two things: what I feared the most and what he desired the most. And for a moment, I think we shared an almost brotherly attachment. Sounds silly, doesn’t it? That I, a purely rational and scholarly man, could feel an attachment to a century-old, cold-hearted killer? Yet, it really isn’t that far of a stretch when you think about it. We all have attachments or roots in the past. Are we really that different? 

We parted ways shortly after that. He disappeared from my life as quickly as he had entered. There was one thing, though…he said that they had something to do before they left. What that was—he didn’t tell me. And at the time I thought perhaps that was best as well. Ignorance is the best friend we can have at times. It absolves us of the guilt in a way. Still, at a subconscious level, it nagged at me. It was later, when I heard about what happened, that I made the connection.

When I got the call from Sam…that’s Lieutenant Colonel Sam Barkley, the medical officer from the original Team of Darkness operation, he told me about General Stone’s unusual death…and the collars that were found around his neck. I knew what that one thing had been. Revenge. They had killed both Stone and his assistant, Commander Scott, taken their blood, and left the collars as a souvenir. I knew none of that would ever make it into the papers. It was reported as a break in and during the struggle, they had been killed. Besides, reading about victims who had their blood drained from their bodies is even a little too much for sensational fanatics as they devour their whole grain pastry and slurp it down with a caramel whatever as they read their morning papers. Kind of spoils the mood.

Still, as morbid as it might seem, in a way I felt like that was the end of it. Perfect symmetry, so to speak. General Stone’s end was a confirmation, in a certain way, that it was truly over. The files would be conveniently destroyed or stored somewhere, maybe next to the Lost Covenant, and all would be buried. Plus, Dimitri and the others, having achieved their final desires would leave, return to the Balkans, and everything would turn back to normal.

Sounds like a happy ending, doesn’t it? I thought so, until I remembered what Sam had said to me. When we were talking, I remember taking a swig of beer and then I had one of those…what do you call it? An epiphany of some sort, I guess. What hadn’t made sense earlier suddenly seemed like it should be important. It was after the creatures escaped, the way General Stone had taken the news. He appeared mildly disturbed about the loss of the creatures, but not irate. Not irate. General Stone was always irate when things did not go his way. He’d tear your head off and use it to wipe his ass if need be—that’s just the way he was. So why did he take it so calmly?

I don’t know how I could have missed it. The man was a general. You don’t become a general without always having a contingency plan. There was something else that I had not known of and obviously not been told about. You also can’t do everything without outside help even at his level. So whatever he had going, he was not alone in it. And that was what made me think of what Sam had said, the feeling that he thought he was being watched. Not to mention the cover up of the murders of Stone and Scott: that had to have some authority behind it.

Do I have proof of any of this? Guys in black suits running around flashing identification from some obscure but powerful agency? Armies of these creatures being covertly dropped into areas and wiping the inhabitants out? No, I don’t. Perhaps I’m just imagining this to make myself useful again—to find some purpose for the madness that I have to deal with. Madness I say; yes, that’s what it is. You can’t go through something like this and not wonder if you’ve lost your mind. I do. I can’t even make love to a woman and not get…well, that’s too much information, isn’t it? Sorry. Suffice it to say, before all of this, it was about my work, and now it’s about my haunting obsession.

I also have dreams. Frightful dreams. They come often. I wake up shaking with fear and yet hiding another feeling that pervades every pore of my body, leaving me feeling exhilarated and exhausted at the same time. These dreams make it hard for me to indulge in anything because they always come back when I give in, and let my defenses down. Talk about mixed feelings, huh? But recently I met someone, someone that I feel very comfortable around and it seems to help somewhat. I haven’t been able to endure any kind of relationship—hell, I have never been good at that kind of thing. I guess there is too much emotional baggage I’m carrying. But with her, it’s different somehow. I know that it is a good thing, the only real good thing that I have had in a long while. It sounds like I have been seeing this person for a long time but in fact, it has only been a few times. Yet, it’s good to have hope in something, isn’t it? We all need to try and find a certain peace in our lives; otherwise, we might go crazy from the loneliness.

 I have to apologize for my ramblings. I seem to have lost track of everything I wanted to say to you. Perhaps it’s best if you just go through the information in this package and see what sense you can make out of it. Remember to be careful with this information. Put it in a secure place where no one can find it. Am I being paranoid again? Perhaps, but I think that caution is warranted. Just do it for me—it makes sense.

Speaking of sense, I hope you can make some out of what I have sent, and then let me know what you think. It helps to have a sanity check every once in a while. Speaking of sanity, have you ever read the novel, Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad? In the novel, Conrad insinuates that one person cannot judge another in terms of being insane. Do you think he was right? I don’t know, but the last words from one of the characters, a man named Kurtz, who many claim was insane, were, “The horror! The horror!” There are many different interpretations of what he meant, but I think he means that we each have our own version of hell, and the horror that it contains comes directly from ourselves. Even our dreams possess that same quality as well; to be so close to the fantasy we desire or a nightmare to haunt us. So what is it that we have to look forward to? And on that cheerful note, I’ll say goodbye.