Bronson walked into his apartment, more pumped than he’d been in a long time. This was a story he could sink his teeth into.
“Sink my teeth into.” He laughed heartily. “Now that is funny.”
Bronson opened his laptop and booted it up, and then looked at his watch. Nine-hour time difference means that…it’s five p.m. there. Perfect. He opened his chat window to see if his friend in the infirmary was online. If not, he would burn the minutes on his cell phone and try and talk with him.
Connection made, he saw that Matt was indeed online. Timing is everything, he said to himself with a smile.
RooMan: Hey man, how’s it going over there?
MedicMat: Hey Bron, how’s thing's stateside? Here it is the same-old thing. Cold as hell, if hell is cold.
RooMan: Don’t feel bad, it’s cold here also. Was snowing this morning.
MedicMatt: Good. I’d hate to hear you were having it too easy. LOL
RooMan: Matt, what’s going on with that investigation on all those bodies? I keep thinking about all that stuff.
MedicMatt: Man they can’t figure that shit out. They have no idea what killed them. The only thing they got is some strange DNA on some of the necks of them, and even then they aren’t all the same. They are clueless. I keep thinking who really cares as long as they are no longer shooting at us!
RooMan: I hear that. What’s this DNA thing?
MedicMatt: It’s strange is all I have heard so far. It’s human but not human. The same but not the same. Like I said man, they have no idea.
RooMan: That is strange.
MedicMatt: Personally, I think that they have some enemies of their own. You know the Taliban aren’t the most popular around here. Now that these people have liquor and music again, they aren’t all that willing to give it up. And who knows what prehistoric, secret war weapons, these freaks have over here.
There it is. Bronson thought. That’s the perfect story!
RooMan: What else is going on?
MedicMatt: There is a big stink going on about the Afghan troops turning on the coalition troops and killing our own men in the safe zone. Man, this country really sucks. This one Afghani Sergeant killed this twenty year old kid in cold blooded murder. Just walked up and shot him while he was on watch. They should hang that guy by the balls.
RooMan: Fuck, that does suck. What are they going to do?
MedicMatt: Right now they are taking the weapons away from the Afghani’s when they are in the safe zone. That isn’t going to work, and they know it. I think they are just holding out until we can pull completely out.
RooMan: Let me know if they find anything else about those bodies if you would buddy.
MedicMatt: Sure thing. Why do I get the feeling you’re gonna blow the lid off this thing?
RooMan: Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies! LOL
MedicMatt: You know this is still hush-hush. Everything has top-secret or red stamped all over it. They are being really tight-lipped about it.
RooMan: Yeah, I know man. I’ll make sure to keep you out of it, you know that.
MedicMatt: I know, and thanks. Think we can hook up when I get back?
RooMan: Hell yeah man. I’ll buy you your first beer.
MedicMatt: Deal. I’m going to cut out, starting to lose connection here, you know how it is.
RooMan: Yep, I remember. Take care Matt. Thanks again bud.
MedicMatt: Sure thi…
Your friend MedicMatt has signed out.
Bronson sat back, very pleased with himself. He owed Matt more than a beer. Hell, he owed him a fucking steak dinner after handing him the perfect solution to keeping Sarge’s unit secret.
“I’ve got a lot of work to do tonight. I should have this all tied up with a nice big bow before tomorrow.” Bronson’s voice echoed in the empty apartment. “Damn, I must be losing it. I'm talking to myself.” Bronson laughed as he punched in the number to the Chinese delivery place around the corner.
“Yes, please. I’d like two egg rolls, Kung-Po Shrimp, spicy and some Leechee fruit.” Bronson gave the address and settled into writing now he had more than an outline to work with. He started adding to it, but decided to go ahead and write the damn story instead of messing around with plans.
* * * * *
Woody and Sarge walked with vampire speed to the Willard to meet with the rest of The Committee. Woody was trying to catch them before they left town. The new developments were serious enough that they had agreed to postpone leaving until meeting with them.
“Good day, Hatshepsut,” Woody greeted the Queen warmly.
“Your Majesty.” Sarge bowed formally.
“Gentlemen,” Hatshepsut replied. “Ariston and Mathghamhain have been detained with the checkout process, but will be with us, as soon as they can. Until they arrive, why do we not start? You said that there is something important to report?”
“Yes, Hatshepsut,” Woody began, sitting down across from the ancient while Sarge remained standing. “It seems our assumption that the bodies in Afghanistan would not be found for a long time, if at all, was wrong. The US Military has found many of the cells that the V-Unit neutralized.”
Hatshepsut remained perfectly still, as if she had not heard a word, before looking at Sarge. “Lieutenant Farragut, it was my understanding that you thought this would not happen.”
“I am truly sorry, Your Majesty.” Sarge felt as if he were under a microscope. He had to admit, he’d thought the bodies would never be found. “Honestly, I felt secure in telling you that, since that is what I was told as well.”
“Now that we know this to be untrue, how are we to proceed?” Her eyes burned into Sarge.
“Your Majesty, fortunately I have run into an acquaintance, purely by accident, a mortal, who is a reporter for the Washington Post.” Sarge wasn’t sure how she was going to react to Bronson. “The unfortunate part is he was witness to an attack by two of the rogue vamps who killed an individual.”
“This human was a witness to everything?” Hatshepsut asked, totally devoid of emotion.
“Yes. And the elimination of one and the capture of the other rogue.”
“In our defense,” Woody broke in, “there was no way either Lieutenant Farragut or I could have known the reporter was there. The air was full of human scents and the scent of fresh blood, which is what tipped us off initially.”
Sarge didn’t say anything, but he knew that this was not exactly the truth. Woody had sensed the other vampires before he’d smelled the blood of the victim.
“Does your reporter friend now know of the vampire attacks here?”
“No, Hatshepsut, but I do not believe that it will take him long to figure it out,” Woody admitted.
“Why then, has his memory of these events not been cleared?” For the first time, the Royal Queen showed a hint of anger.
“Your Majesty, if I may?” Sarge asked permission to speak.
“Proceed. Please, explain to me how this can be?” Her gaze pierced Sarge.
“I know this man, and I know his reputation,” Sarge began. “Bronson Rudan is a highly esteemed reporter who could not have earned his reputation, had he not been careful with the secrets of his sources.” Sarge hoped this would help justify why they hadn’t wiped Bronson’s memory. “It took him no time to figure out that the V-Unit is responsible for the problems in Afghanistan, which may now work in our favor.”
“How do you come to that conclusion, Lieutenant?” The pale Queen was angry, but waiting to hear him out.
“He… he was already in the process of writing a story on the…situation, and has already told his editor the key points. He is the one who told us that there were military, medical and many scientific personnel working on trying to discover how those cells died. Had it not been for him, we would not have known until it was too late.”
“Too late?” Hatshepsut stood up, her anger palpable. “Do you not think that it is already too late?”
“Please, Hatshepsut, let him finish,” Woody begged the Queen.
“Continue.” She waved her hand in Sarge’s direction as she started to pace.
“Bronson has suggested that he may be able to come up with a solution to keep the unit from being discovered.” Sarge hoped this was going to work.
“And just how does he propose to do that?” Hatshepsut stopped pacing and looked at the two men.
“He is working on it now, Hatshepsut,” Woody added. “I think we need to trust this man. I have met him and found him to be reputable.”
“Bronson is going to bring us everything he has, plus a proposal on how to diffuse this whole mess,” Sarge put in. “I also think that if he can do this for us with the Afghan problem, he would be worth keeping around in case we needed him for the problems here at home. Hell, he might even be able to help in Europe too. He is very well-connected and highly respected.”
The coin finally hit the bottom of the cup. Plainly Hatshepsut saw the benefits of what Bronson might be able to accomplish, and that he could be a valuable asset.
“You both appear to trust this man enough to put your own reputations on the line. I must take this into consideration.” Hatshepsut began pacing again. “When will he present his story to you?”
“He is going to meet with us again later this evening,” Woody answered.
“I will allow this meeting to take place.” The ancient vampire continued to pace. “However, if I am not completely convinced that his story will absolve us of any connection to this…debacle, then I will insist his mind be completely cleansed of everything. There will be no further discussion of the matter after that. Do I make myself crystal clear?”
“Yes, Hatshepsut, and I concur,” Woody said as he stood. “I think, however, that this is going to be the start of a long and fruitful relationship. You will see.”
“I hope that you are right, Thomas.” The Queen’s eyes softened as she looked at her friend and fellow Committee member. “You have never given me any reason to doubt you.”
“Thank you, your Highness.” Sarge bowed once more to the regal woman.
“I plan to stay behind until this matter has been resolved,” she said, as she finally sat down, calm at last. “I will inform the other two of what has transpired, and let them go back to Europe to deal with the situation there.”
“Do you think that is such a good idea?” Woody sighed heavily. “What I mean is, who can we trust at this time?”
“You do make a valid point.” Hatshepsut paused a moment. “For now, I will keep this between the three of us.”
“I also bring you news of what I was able to find out about who was responsible for the turning of these rogues here in Washington,” Woody said, changing the subject.
Hatshepsut’s eyes opened expectantly, waiting.
“The rogue that we captured was able to describe the one who turned him. He described Léonide, perfectly.”
“I am glad and sorry at the same time to hear this.” The Queen sighed and shook her head. “This is going to devastate poor Vincent.”
“Yes, I know.” Woody laid his hand on the white shoulder of the woman. “He is still very much in love with him, I am afraid.”
“Yes, yes he is,” she agreed, patting the hand on her shoulder. “I wish I had followed my first instinct and denied him his boy toy, but he was so in love I didn’t have the heart.”
“We must also consider that he is not working alone,” Woody added.
“Is there any reason why you would think this, Thomas?” She turned to look at Woody standing at her side.
“I am not sure, Hatshepsut, it is just a feeling I have.” Woody looked off into the distance. “There is just something nagging me, something at the back of my mind that I feel I have missed somehow.”
“Thomas, I hope that you are wrong,” she said sadly. “It is always so disappointing when one of our own betrays us so.”
“Your Majesty, I have all of my men combing the city looking for these rogues,” Sarge interposed. “What do you want us to do with the ones that are captured?”
“The one that I interviewed this evening, Hatshepsut, was pitiful,” Woody said with sadness. “I think that he would be worth saving. He was, or is, just a boy whose life was not so very good. As for the others, I would like to be able to interview them individually and see if there is anything worth salvaging out of this terrible mess.”
“Oh, Thomas, you are such the kind hearted one.” The Queen smiled warmly at Woody. “I will trust your judgment on weeding out the undesirables, but you know that The Committee will have final say, and we cannot spend a lot of time on this matter if there are too many of them. Please understand this.”
“I do, my Queen.” Woody kissed the back of her hand, returning her warm smile with one of his own.
* * * * *
Bronson worked diligently through the night, redoing his outline after all, and completed a first and second draft of the article.
“There, that should do nicely, even if I do say so myself.” Bronson stared at his reflection in the window. “I’ve got to stop talking to myself.” The printer whirled, printing off all the pages he had worked on.
He looked at his watch. “Just in time too.”
He saved the document to his laptop, which automatically saved it to his cloud account, putting it out in the Ethernet. If anything were to happen to his laptop, or him, it could be accessed by the only person he knew he could trust with anything—his sister.
Picking up the printed pages and stuffing them into a legal manila envelope, Bronson put on his jacket and left his apartment.
It was snowing again. Bronson pulled his collar up. The scarf he’d picked up as an afterthought rode up over the collar, helping to keep his body heat in.
“Damn, I am sick of this cold,” Bronson muttered, ducking his head against the frigid wind, oblivious to anyone around him as he battled through the snow.
* * * * *
Sarge was enquiring on the whereabouts of the different teams, when Corporal Johnson entered the room, alone.
“Where’s Burrows?”
“Said he was feeling 'itchy,’” Johnson answered, holding up his fore and middle fingers in the quote-unquote sign. “We got another vamp in lockup, this one female.” There was a look of distaste on his face.
“Oh?” Sarge was curious as to why Johnson seemed so repulsed.
“Yeah, this one is some piece of work. She was some crack whore that Jack the Ripper would have passed on.”
“Ouch, that was harsh,” Aquilar cackled, his fingers flying over the remote control of the PS3 gaming console. “Fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuck,” he yelled as Cates pumped his fist in the air.
“That’s what you get, wise ass, for poking your nose into someone else’s conversation.” Cates and the other guys who had been watching laughed at Aquilar’s short tirade.
Sarge turned his back on the commotion to address Johnson. “Is Woody still down in lockup?”
“Yes, Sir. He is interrogating them both.”
“Sarge, you have a visitor,” Saunders announced as he escorted Bronson into the common room.”
“Thanks, Saunders.” Sarge tried not to smile. He didn’t want to make it too obvious that he was happy to see the reporter. “Johnson, go and fetch Woody. Tell him to meet me and Mr. Rudan in the command center.”
“Sure thing, Sarge.” Johnson was already on his way out of the room.
“Shall we?” Sarge invited Bronson, gesturing through the open door, his arm extended.
Once they were in the command center, Sarge quickly shut the door, took Bronson into his arms and kissed him, plunging his tongue into the man’s warm mouth like a starving man attacking a sirloin.
When he finally let him go, Bronson responded, “Damn. Hello to you, too. Wanna do that again just to make sure you did it right?”
Sarge pulled the green-eyed reporter back into another kiss, this time a little gentler, but more intense.
“I’d like to bend you over that table and fuck you silly,” Sarge breathed into Bronson’s ear after the long passionate kiss.
“Think you can contain yourself until after our meeting?”
“Later?”
“Oh yeah…you got it, sexy,” Bronson agreed. There was a knock at the door and he quickly sat down in the effort to hide his obvious erection in his jeans.
“Enter,” Sarge commanded.
The door swung open and Johnson escorted Thomas Woodford into the room.
“Evening, Woody.” Sarge welcomed the other vampire.
“A gracious good evening to the both of you.” Woody grinned broadly as the door closed quietly behind him, leaving just the three of them in the room. “Do I…” He sniffed the air. “Do I smell a hard-on?”
Bronson turned crimson as Sarge busted out laughing.
Woody walked over to Bronson, took his chin in his hand, and then looked deeply into his green eyes. “If this brutish man does not satisfy you, please, allow me the pleasure of trying myself.” Woody teased the blushing man, making him even more attractive to Sarge’s eyes.
“Hands off, Woody,” Sarge growled. “I saw him first.”
“As I recall, we saw him at the same time.” Woody took a seat at the conference table.
“Not quite,” Sarge chortled. Bronson sat between the two. “I saw him years ago in Iraq!”
“Touché,” Woody conceded, sighing heavily.
“If the two of you have had enough fun at my expense, can we get started?” Bronson looked slightly discomforted. He handed them a sheath of papers. “I made two copies so that you each could review them at the same time.”
They started reading, first the outline and then the article Bronson had obviously worked so hard on.
Woody finished reading first, and then waited for Sarge to finish. He regarded Bronson, eyes gleaming. “This is…brilliant. I’m stunned at how well you have tied up all the loose ends. It is all very plausible.”
“Wow, Bronson.” Sarge looked between the reporter and Woody. “This is great. Perfect actually. Woody’s right, man, this is brilliant.”
“Thanks guys,” Bronson smiled. “I’m glad it meets with your approval.”
“I cannot wait for her to see it,” Woody said to Sarge.
“Yeah, I think this is going to remove any doubts she had, don’tcha think?”
“Oh yes, I think this will do quite nicely.” Woody smiled.
“Who?” Bronson demanded to know, a frown creasing his brow.
“A moment please?” Woody asked as he stood up to dial his cell phone. A moment later he spoke into the phone. “Good evening again. Yes, he is with us now.” Woody paused while he listened. “I think you will be more than pleased.” Another pause. “Very well, I will bring him with us tomorrow evening.” Woody smiled at the others in the room. “You do the same, and we shall see you tomorrow evening.” He disconnected the call.
“Well?” Sarge asked.
“She is requesting that we bring our friend here along to meet with her tomorrow.” Woody sat back down. “I have a feeling that you will have won a new fan, my dear friend,” he stated, looking at Bronson.
“Who? Who are you talking about?” Bronson asked again.
Sarge looked at Woody. Woody glanced at Sarge before turning his attention to Bronson. “Tomorrow we have a meeting.”