SEVEN
The commonly held belief that vampires are capable
of mesmerizing their prey does not appear to be true, at least with
Cade. But there is a very real—if not easily measured—psychological
and biological response triggered in humans by Cade. Researchers
meeting him for the first time reported extreme anxiety, verging on
panic attacks. (The fear response is probably heightened by the
person’s encounter with a species long assumed to be mythical.)
This can cause a person to “freeze,” much like a mouse will stop
all movement when stalked by a snake. However, like the mouse, this
is not because the person is hypnotized. It seems to be a result of
an ingrained human reaction to a predatory species, rather than any
inherent ability on Cade’s part. The response grows weaker upon
repeated encounters with Cade, settling down eventually to a
generalized unease in his presence.
—BRIEFING BOOK: CODENAME: NIGHTMARE PET
PORT OF BALTIMORE, BALTIMORE,
MARYLAND
The two ICE agents, a man and a woman, had
clearly been waiting for a while. And they were not happy about
it.
Employees of ICE—Immigration and Customs
Enforcement, the catchall investigative arm of Homeland
Security—tended to be a little surly anyway. After 9/11, every
agency in the country got swept into new, terrorist-fighting
duties, with the plum assignments going to the big names at the CIA
and FBI. Customs got new stationery and all the leftovers. They
were responsible for everything from transferring prisoners to
building security to searching cargo.
The last job was the least glamorous, and it was
the reason they were here tonight.
They stood outside the giant metal shipping
container, arms crossed, scowling, as Cade and Zach ducked under
the crime-scene tape. The male agent moved to intercept them. Like
his partner, he was dressed in a dark windbreaker with ICE
stenciled in yellow on the back, and had a SIG Sauer P229 9mm in a
holster on his hip. He looked like he wanted an excuse to shoot
them right there.
Cade either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “I’m
Agent Cushing. This is Agent Lee,” he said, holding up the
credentials he’d pulled from the glove box of the sedan. Zach
fumbled in his pocket and came up with his own billfold, which
somehow already had his photo above the phony name. It occurred to
him that someone had been planning his transfer for a while.
The male agent scanned their IDs,
unimpressed.
“Agent Cusick,” he said, and then tipped his head
toward his partner. “That’s Hagan.”
He had to raise his voice over the sound of the
docks, which Zach was surprised to see were still busy, even this
late at night. Cranes dipped down into giant tankers and
freighters, and came out with containers that they stacked in big,
rusting piles on the concrete docks. Semi trucks ground gears and
waited in lines to pick up their shipments.
The container they were here to see was cordoned
off by the tape, and a wide space on every side. There was no one
else nearby, and DHS had set up floodlights. It made the metal box
look like it was on display.
Cade looked at the container, its doors locked and
sealed. He turned to Cusick.
“Is there some reason you’re waiting to give me
your report?” he asked.
Cusick’s face curled into a snarl, but Hagan jumped
in to answer before he could damage his career. Zach figured it was
a pattern with the two of them.
“The refrigeration on this unit apparently failed,
and the smell attracted the attention of the inspectors,” she said.
“They looked inside, called us. Then our boss got a call, and we
were told to secure the scene and wait for you.”
“Which we’ve been doing for seven hours and
forty-nine minutes,” Cusick said, making a show of checking his
watch. “Thanks so much for hurrying.”
“You’re welcome,” Cade said. “Where’s the
driver?”
“Truckers here show up with their rigs and line up
for cargo,” Hagan said. “We pulled him out of line and stuck him in
the harbormaster’s office. He says he had no idea what was in the
box.”
“So what’s inside?” Zach asked.
Cusick scowled. “You don’t know? Christ, that’s
great.”
“Open it, and we’ll see for ourselves,” Cade
said.
Cusick spun around, turning his back on Zach. “Hey,
screw you, pal,” he said. “We’re not here to be your servants. I
know you guys like to think we’re just rent-a-cops down at this
level—”
“Kirk,” Hagan said, a warning in her voice.
“No, damn it, Ann, I’m sick of this shit—”
Zach recognized the tone. It was the career
government employee at the end of his patience. Fortunately, he had
some experience with that.
“Hey. Us too, buddy,” Zach said. “We’re all just
doing what we’re told. The guys making the decisions are safe in
their soft, warm beds.”
Cusick snorted. That was progress.
“None of us want to be here,” Zach said. “But if
you just let us into the container, maybe we can get this done
before daybreak, okay?”
Cusick dialed back his anger. “Yeah,” he said.
“Sorry. Been a long night.”
“Nothing to apologize for,” Zach said. They walked
over to the container. Cusick broke the evidence seals and unlocked
the doors.
Cusick looked back at Zach and Cade. “Might want to
hold your breath now,” he said.
Zach didn’t know what he meant by that. Then they
swung open the doors, and the stench rolled out over them
all.
Zach turned and threw up his coffee, stomach acid
burning in his nose and throat. Cusick and Hagan both stepped back,
gagging.
Only Cade didn’t retch.
Hagan walked over to Zach, handed him a Kleenex
from her jacket.
“Thanks,” he croaked, wiping his mouth.
“You never get used to the smell, do you?” Cusick
said. Looking right at Cade.
Cade looked right back. “No,” he said. “You never
do.”
Cusick gave his partner a look like, Can you
believe this guy?
Meanwhile, Zach got a good look in the
container.
Inside, hanging on hooks, like a cannibal’s meat
locker, were rows and rows of body parts. Legs. Arms. Torsos. A
chain full of hands, another of feet.
All of them going purple and green with decay,
buzzing with flies and maggots in the enclosed heat of the
container.
“So,” Cusick said. “I hope to Christ you know what
this is about. Because I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Cade didn’t answer him. Instead, he said, “Let’s
talk to the driver.”
It wasn’t a request.
THEY ENTERED the harbormaster’s building, a
collection of small offices and what looked like an employee
lounge, with vending machines for soda and candy.
They stood by the machines while Hagan gave them
the trucker’s story.
“He’s in there,” she said, pointing to a small
office off the main hallway. The door was closed. “Guy named Andrew
Reese. From Jersey. Said he was hired by a referral agency to make
a pick-up here. And he says that’s all he knows.”
She unlocked the door and they entered. Reese
didn’t fit Zach’s image of a truck driver—an old guy, like a side
of beef, in a flannel shirt and mesh-back cap. Instead, the trucker
was about his age, wire-thin and wearing an OFFSPRING
T-shirt. He glared at them from eyes that looked bruised from a
lack of sleep.
“About fucking time,” he snapped. “Do I get my
cargo or what?”
“Your cargo has been impounded,” Cusick said.
“These gentlemen are the federal agents we were telling you about.
Maybe you’d like to explain what we found to them.”
Reese leaned back in his chair, unimpressed. “I
already told you: I don’t have a clue what was in the container. I
was hired to pick it up. Whatever’s on the manifest, that’s what I
know about it.”
“You just pick up whatever you’re told?”
Reese shrugged. “A job’s a job.”
Cusick got in his face. “And we’re supposed to
believe you don’t know why we’re here? This is all just a huge
mistake to you, right?”
Reese stared back. “You know, I’m a good citizen
and all. I want to help fight the War on Terror like anyone else.
But I’ve had enough of this shit. You either arrest me, or I’m
getting the hell out of here.”
He stood, nearly bumping Cusick on his way up.
Cusick shoved him back in his seat.
Reese smiled. “Nice,” he said. “Now I can sue you
for brutality. I could use a new big-screen TV”
“Shut up,” Cusick snapped. “Or we’ll test your
blood for meth.”
Reese’s smile vanished. “I want to talk to a
lawyer. Right fucking now.”
Cusick was about to say something else, but Cade
interrupted. “I think we need to take a moment. Don’t you, Agent
Cusick?”
They all trooped out of the room again, behind
Cade.
“Hey! What about my lawyer?” Reese yelled. No one
answered him.
They stood outside the door for a moment, not
saying anything.
“He doesn’t seem very cooperative,” Cade
said.
“Screw you,” Cusick shot back. “If you’d been here
earlier, we might have had more luck.”
Cade ignored him, again. “I’d like to talk to him
alone.”
Cusick was instantly suspicious. “Why?”
Cade’s expression didn’t change. “Because I’d like
to talk to him alone.”
Cusick gritted his teeth and stepped back with
exaggerated courtesy. “Of course. Excuse the hell out of me.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Cade said, and went back
into the room.
Zach heard Reese talking, muffled through the door.
He didn’t know what to say to the ICE agents, so he smiled.
They looked at him like he was retarded.
“Who the hell are you with again?” Cusick
asked.
Zach blanked. He couldn’t remember which division
of the government was written on his fake ID.
Then the screaming started.
Zach had never heard anything like it. It came from
inside the small office. It sounded like an animal caught in a
trap.
It was Reese.
Cusick moved before his partner did. He lifted his
foot, prepared to kick the door down—
Just as Cade swung it open gently.
They rushed in together. Cade stood back.
“What the fuck—” Cusick said. Zach looked
down, noticed that Cusick had his gun drawn.
“He wasn’t hired by a referral agency,” Cade said.
“He got a call from a shipping company. KSM Holdings. Otherwise,
he’s telling the truth. You can release him.”
In the room, Reese wasn’t screaming anymore. He was
trembling, and trying like hell to hide in the corner, as far away
as he could from Cade.
A stain spread at his crotch. The tiny office was
thick with the smell of fresh shit.
“What did you do to him?” Cusick demanded.
“Nothing,” Cade said mildly.
“Nothing? Bullshit. Look at him,” Cusick
said. “What do you call that?”
Hagan tried to reach over to Reese, to calm him
down. He shrieked and huddled down even farther.
“Enhanced interrogation techniques,” Cade said. His
mouth twitched as he said it.
“Enhanced?” Cusick looked like he could
spit. “I don’t know how you do it, but we don’t allow that kind of
Jack Bauer torture shit here—”
“The United States doesn’t torture,” Cade
said.
“That’s it,” Cusick said. “I’m putting you under
arrest, pal.”
Zach noticed that Cusick still had his gun
out.
Cade’s expression never changed, but Zach wondered
if Cade’s oath to protect the citizenry of the U.S. would prevent
him from putting Cusick through a wall.
He decided not to take the chance.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa there, Tex, wait a second,” he
said, holding up his hands.
Cusick spun back around to him, his face red.
“Come on. We’re all on the same side here,
right?”
Cusick nodded, a little. Like moving his head would
cost money.
“Let’s just . . . step outside and discuss
this.”
Another fractional nod. Then, pointing at Cade:
“But he gets the hell out of here.”
Cusick told Hagan to look after Reese. They stepped
out of the office.
Zach and Cusick moved to one side, to talk. Cusick,
thankfully, put his Sig back in its holster.
Cade seemed profoundly uninterested in whatever
they had to say.
“I’ll be at the container,” he told Zach. “Join me
when you’re done here.”
“Asshole,” Cusick said, loud enough so Cade,
walking away, couldn’t miss it.
Cade didn’t turn around as he went through the
outer door.
Once he was gone, Zach lowered his voice and leaned
in. Cusick did the same, in order to hear.
“Look, I gotta apologize for my partner. He’s a
little . . . intense.”
“He’s fucking psychotic.”
“Point taken,” Zach said. “Look. Do you really want
to make a thing of this? You really want to get your career wrapped
up in whatever god-awful mess we’ve got here?”
Cusick gave Zach a look. “So I should just go along
like a good boy, is that it?”
“If I could just walk away from this, I would,”
Zach said, meaning it. “Believe me.”
The office door opened and Hagan came out. “How is
he?” Cusick asked her.
“He’s fine.” She saw his face. “No, really. Not a
mark on him. Just whatever that guy said . . . scared the shit out
of him. Literally, I’m afraid.”
Cusick couldn’t accept it. “He didn’t touch
him?”
Hagan shook her head. “Guy doesn’t want to press
charges or anything. Just wants out of here.”
Cusick and Hagan looked at each other, then at
Zach.
“So what now?” Cusick asked.
“Go home,” Zach said, trying not to make it sound
like a guess. “We’ll take it from here.”
“What do we put in our report?” Cusick asked. The
look of suspicion was back.
Even Zach knew the answer to that. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Not a thing. Classified. Nobody ever hears a word
about this.”
“We can handle sensitive information,” Cusick
insisted.
“We’re counting on it,” Zach said. “Something like
this gets out, causes a panic . . . then, next week, we’ve got
congressional hearings, and we’re both out of work. You know how it
is.”
The agents nodded. Like Zach, they knew how the
Washington blame game worked. Someone had to be a scapegoat, and it
was usually the person dumb enough to have his name written down
somewhere.
They got Reese out of the office, sent him to a
bathroom and then escorted him to the door. His legs were still
shaking, but he walked away under his own power. Hagan and Cusick
each shook Zach’s hand and left. Cusick looked over his shoulder
once. Hagan didn’t.
As soon as they were out of sight, Zach sucked in a
deep breath and headed back to the container.
Even though he really, really didn’t want to.
ZACH FOUND CADE near the back of the container. It
was almost too dark to see. Cade wasn’t having any trouble,
though.
Zach was trying like hell not to touch any of the
body parts. He stayed as close as he could to the wall.
“That was good,” Cade said, without looking up from
what he was doing. “You got them out of here, and you kept them
from getting too suspicious.”
Zach was surprised. “It’s nothing. Just standard
government bureaucrat mentality.”
“You handled it well,” Cade said. “I’m not always
good at dealing with people.”
“No. You must be joking,” Zach said, deadpan.
Silence.
“So what did you do to the trucker?” Zach
asked.
More silence. Then Cade asked, “You have your
phone?”
“Yeah,” Zach said.
“It has a camera function. Get a photo of this.
Close as you can.”
Zach pulled his phone out of his pocket, stabbed at
buttons until the camera function appeared.
Meanwhile, Cade peered intently at the shoulder
joint of an arm, swinging on one of the chains.
Zach squinted, trying to see what was so
interesting to Cade. Then Cade moved, and light from the floods
outside reached the arm.
At the shoulder, glinting slightly, was a metal
fitting, somehow welded into the flesh and bone. It almost looked
organic itself And it appeared to have ridges and slots.
Zach realized where he’d seen stuff like that
before. On computers, and office equipment. Metal joints, used to
snap things together, Tab A to Slot B.
“What the hell . . . ?”
“Photos,” Cade reminded him.
Zach pointed and shot. The camera came with its own
flash, which lit up the interior of the container like day.
That was when he saw the other thing on the arm
that Cade was looking at: a tattoo.
AIRBORNE FIRST BATTALION, it said, with the squad’s
mascot just underneath: 508TH RED DEVILS.
This was the arm of an American soldier.
Zach suddenly felt like vomiting again, but his
mouth was dry.
“Jesus Christ, what is this?”
Cade walked out of the container. “Come
along.”
Zach got out of the container as fast as he could,
without touching anything hanging from the chains.
As soon as Zach was out, Cade took the handles of
the doors in his hands and slammed them shut.
“Call Griff. It’s the first number in your phone
book. Tell him we need a dental appointment.”
“That’s really cute, but—”
“Do it. Now.”
The vampire’s placid expression was gone. He looked
pissed.
That scared Zach, even as he fumbled with the phone
to make the call.
“Cade. What the hell is this?”
He thought he was being ignored again. Then Cade
spoke.
“This is quite a week for you, Mr. Barrows,” he
said. “First you meet a real vampire. Now you’re going to meet
Frankenstein.”