The men had done an excellent job, there was no doubt about that. Even the Mobmaster was running completely silent, its welded, crash-bar wedge plowing trash and dust out of the way as the convoy rolled through Hell’s Kitchen.

Julius sat next to Biggs, who sat directly behind the rigger running the Mobmaster, Biggs wore his heavy combat helmet, its dark visor pulled down for thermographic vision. With the blowing dust, Julius couldn’t make out a thing around them, and knew he had to trust the rigger’s skills.

Julius wasn’t interested in the scenery anyway. He was staring at the tiny image on his portable telecom, and the anger surging through him was making the screen shake.

“And you listen to me, brother,” he said. “I don’t know what you have in mind here, but I know where my son is, and I’m going to get him. You don’t like that, we can talk about what the hell you’re up to when I get back. Until then, there isn’t anything you can say to make me change my mind.”

The face on the screen looked grim. “Julius, listen to reason. I’m telling you, somebody is playing you for a fool. Warren isn’t out in Hell’s Kitchen. He’s somewhere dockside. Come back, and lets do this right, not go oft half-cocked to flatten some little facility out in the middle of nowhere, full of people who have no clue why you’re coming after them.”

Despite himself, Julius had to smile at the image. “Tell you what, if I’ve made a mistake, I’ll apologize. However, I know I haven’t made a mistake.”

From beside him, Biggs spoke, “Sir, the decker’s got site layouts. They’re coming up on the front screen now.”

Julius looked at Marco again. “Got to go. We’re almost on top of the target, and we’re just getting last-minute details.”

“Wait! There are things you don’t know- Julius watched as the entire left side of Marco’s face seemed to expand and contract violently, and a line of white spittle trailed from his mouth to leave a track of blackness down his chin. Marco’s neck muscles bulged until it looked as if they were going erupt right through his skin.”

“Damn it, Marco! Are you all right?”

Even on the small screen, Julius could tell that his brother’s entire body was shaking and trembling. “Marco, talk to me.”

After a few seconds, the tremor passed as quickly as it had come. Marco slumped toward the screen for a second, then righted himself with obvious effort. “Damn,” he said, in a suddenly tired voice. “That was a bad one.”

Julius looked closely. Marco’s left eye was filled with black blood that spilled over his lid and tracked down his cheek. He wiped at it with a curled fist, like a child wiping away a tear.

“Marco, I told you that needed to be checked, and now it’s getting worse. You need to call that doctor of yours. Tell him what’s going on. Find out if there’s anything he can do.”

Marco shook his head. “I already have, and he’s looking into it. But let’s get back to the point before you do something that will jeopardize our operation here.”

Suddenly Julius was sick of talking to his brother, sick everything to do with the family, with the corporation. The only thing he cared about was Warren and getting him back safely.

“Marco, shut up.”

The Look of shock and anger on Marco’s face was frightening. In a low, cold tone, he said, “I think the stress has made you forget yourself, little brother.”

Julius laughed. “I haven’t forgotten anything, big brother. I haven’t forgotten that if it wasn’t for you, my son wouldn’t be out here in the middle of nowhere, with some insane thing that wants him dead just to hurt you. Remember the trideo recording? This whole thing is because of you. So just shut up. I’m going in, and this conversation is over. You want to try and stop me, you go right ahead. You’ll find out just how far I’m willing to take this. And considering your delicate position, I think you just better sit tight and let me do whatever I want. Is that clear?”

If Marco’s tone was cold before, it was positively arctic now. “Are you threatening me? Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

Julius thought about the night Marco had come to him, changed into a vampire, and asked for his help. “I should have asked you that eight years ago, just after your little ‘accident,’ but I didn’t. Or maybe you should have asked me that when you came to me two years back and told me things were going to be different, and again asked me to back your play. You’ve taken everything I’ve ever loved and ruined it, including the brother I used to have. Well, I’m taking some of mine back. Now.”

With that, Julius disconnected. Hitting a button that rolled down the bullet-proof glass, he tossed the telecom out the window.

Julius turned to Biggs, who had lifted his visor and was watching him with a raised eyebrow. Julius smiled. “All right, Let’s take a look at those layouts and see if we can make tonight go a bit easier.”

21

Imagine a troll infected with a custom strain of HMHVV. In addition to his already fearsome size and strength, the troll could be endowed with the classic vampire’s abilities to transform into mist and regenerate damage, the formorian’s resistance to magic, the goblin’s tolerance for fire, and the bandersnatch’s adaptive coloration and high reproductive rate. Such a monstrosity-virtually impervious to harm, ravening for blood and able to reproduce-would cut a swath of destruction wherever it went.

– 

Martin de Vries, Shadows at Noon, posted to Shadowland BBS, 24 May 2057

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

As the voice from above echoed in the operating theater, Sinunu reacted even without thinking. Pushing Rachel to the floor, she spun into a kneeling position, bringing both her crossbow and HK MP-5TX on target simultaneously.

The crossbow twanged as soon as she had a viable target-the dark, strangely deformed figure standing at the top of the short stairway just to the side of the huge pentagram. The steps led to a supply elevator.

Then everything clicked into slow motion as she realized what she’d done. Sinunu watched as the arrow streaked toward the figure she now recognized as de Vries. The reason he looked deformed was because he had something slung across his shoulders.

As suddenly as the realization hit her, de Vries moved gingerly down a step, and to the left. He reached out with his free hand, easily snagging the wooden bolt from mid-air.

“Frag!” Sinunu was on her feet, her regret turning to anger the instant she understood the vampire was safe.

Dc Vries smiled down on her, gently twirling the feathered shaft in his fingers as if it were some kind of cheerleader’s baton. “You seem to be a bit on edge, my dear”

He quickly descended the steps to the floor.

Sinunu felt a small hand on her shoulder. She turned and saw Truxa standing there, a smile on her full lips. “Baby, don’t get mad. You reacted, that’s all.”

Sinunu felt her hands unclench.

Flak was still staring at de Vries. “What the hell are you doing? Where the hell did you go? And who the hell is that?” He pointed at the dark-haired man over de Vries’ shoulder.

De Vries smiled. “Not enough time for a full explanation, but this man is going to be our decoy. If Marco D’imato were to learn that his nephew had been rescued, he’d simply grab him again and we’d never find him.”

Rachel pushed to her feet beside Sinunu. “This isn’t Warren,” she said. “We got the wrong chamber or something.” De Vries stepped over to the vat and looked at the body on the floor. Then he dumped the body of the man he carried next to the one who’d crawled out of the vat. He was shaking his head. “Bloody hell,” he said, for an instant going into what Sinunu guessed was a trance.