Biting the Bullet (35 page)

“Fine,” said Cam, twirling in his chair so he could see Vayl better. “What’s our role?”

“Bait,” he said frankly. I glanced in the rearview to see how Bergman would take this morsel. Looked to me like he was forcing himself to chew, fighting his ingrained urge to regurge.
Well, what do you know? He really meant it when he said he was tired
of being a wuss
.

As I reworked my perspective of him to include some newfound respect, Vayl went on. “Jasmine and I are betting the Wizard will not be able to resist the lure of this TV truck since he just received an anonymous tip — thanks to Bergman — that Edward Samos has taken control of the station and has sent reavers to initiate the coup Jasmine mentioned to David just after we entered the country. He will send his guards to take it out. It will be up to you four to make sure that does not happen.”

“Understood,” said Cam, gritting his teeth on his toothpick as he spoke. “We’ll have the drop on them, so if we plan well it could even go down without a fight.” The rest of the men nodded and put their heads together. Before they could begin formulating a plan, Vayl signaled Cole.

“As soon as you catch sight of them, let us know,” he said. “It will mean they have temporarily disabled their security system, which will be our cue to move into the house.”

I wished Bergman had brought enough hi-tech instant-communications devices for the whole bunch of us, but he hadn’t anticipated such a large group needing to network on our dime. So, while Cole could talk to us through his stick-on transmitter, if anyone else on the team wanted a word, he’d have to use Cole as a relay.

I pulled the van to a stop beside the curb. To our right, darkened houses marched down the street like good little soldiers, all of them built to similar specs, the only difference being the color scheme and the shape of the gate in the obligatory fence/wall that separated sidewalk from courtyard. I wondered what the neighbors would say when they discovered they’d been living across the street from one of the world’s most reviled terrorists. I could hear the interviews now.

“You know, maybe we should’ve been suspicious when the bomb went off in his basement. But we thought he was learning to play the bass drum. And who would we tell anyway? Half the cops on the force are scared to leave their cars and the other half are working for him!”

I looked back at the guys, sharing the smile that can grow right out of your teeth just before battle. It’s involuntary. Like breathing.

Or shaking your ass to rap music. Something about the threat of death just makes you feel alive. I know I wouldn’t have chosen any other spot than the one I occupied beside these fierce, grinning men tonight.

Okay. We’re as ready as we’re going to get.
I looked a question at Vayl.
Now?
He gave me the slight tilt of his head that passed as a nod. I felt his powers rise once again, like a cool swirling breeze that encased only us.

“Where’d they go?” asked Natchez.

“I told you he was good,” said Bergman. I followed Vayl out his side of the van, slamming the door on Bergman’s monologue of my boss’s known and suspected kills despite a strong urge to crawl into the back, sit absolutely still, and listen like I might never hear again.

With Vayl’s camouflage flowing over us we walked boldly across the street, daring the cameras to record us. They might show some movement, but watchers would see it as a blur and think the lenses needed to be cleaned.

A miniscule jerk of Vayl’s head told me he wanted to head around back. I followed closely enough to stay within his sphere of influence. Reaching into the compound with my senses, I tried to pick up any information I could. I’m no Cassandra, but I can perceive intense human emotion. And somebody inside was pissed.

“Vayl,” I whispered. “We made the Wizard mad.”

“Really?” he drawled.

“I’m thinking we can use that to our advantage.”

He slanted me an amused look over his shoulder. “Jasmine, if anyone can manipulate someone else’s fury to her gain, it is you.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment,” I warned him.

He made a muffled sound that I interpreted as a chuckle. “I meant it no other way.” The house took up half the block. We turned the corner, followed it to a private access road. It was blocked by a chained gate upon which hung a sign that might’ve spelled out why nobody but the owners were allowed to drive past that point — except I couldn’t read Farsi, so I was just guessing. For all I knew, it said,
Sick of living? Have we got a job for you! Inquire inside.

The gate itself was lower than the one in front. Also somewhat in disrepair. In fact, it looked to me like somebody had run into it with their vehicle. Hard. Leaving a buckled-in spot that made it resemble an enormous football player who’s just been kicked in the cojones. The resulting fold made a great foothold for us as we climbed to the top of the wall and then gently dropped to the other side.

The lack of outbuildings and absolute void in landscaping meant we could see the entire backyard and rear of the house from our vantage point. The only adornment the architect had given this area was a pool. But there were no lawn chairs. No potted plants.

Nothing softened the stark effect of cement-encased water. It looked like a place where people are baptized. Or drowned.

If I’d been a run-of-the-mill assassin, the distance between the gate at which I stood and the back of the house would have seemed to stretch for miles. The Wizard had made it virtually impossible for anyone to sneak up on him while he was at home. But then, he’d never expected to be targeted by a vampire like Vayl.

We had our choice of entrances. As we faced the house, the garage sat to our left. It had four bays, all of them accessed by barnlike closures. A walk led from the driveway to the main door, a windowless white-painted archway with a black metal latch.

To our far right, almost at the building’s edge, was another entry. A much less imposing white rectangle — definitely reserved for the servants.

Vayl motioned to my gut.
Where is it leading you?
his expression asked me.

I nodded to door number two.

We walked to the corner of the building. Despite our relative safety, it still felt eerie to cross someone’s line of sight and realize you might as well be invisible to them. Too bad we didn’t have more time. It would be such a blast to make them think they were cursed. I could just see the guards, gathered around the monitors.

“Holy crap, Khorsand!” one of them would shriek. “Look at camera five! The light fixtures have leaped off the garage and are floating around the pool like severed heads! What could it mean?”

“We are obviously being haunted by the souls of all the good men we murdered, NimA,” his partner would respond. “The only choice we have left to us is to fall upon our swords!”

I sighed.
Aah, if it were only that easy
.

We took our positions and waited for Cole’s signal.

“You smell amazing,” said Vayl, standing as close as he could get to me without touching. Apparently that was his definition of professional distance.

“Keep your mind on the job, bub.”

“Bub? Is that my new nickname?”

“Sure.”

“I hate it,” Vayl said decisively. “Give me another.”

I looked up at him, his excitement so palpable I could almost reach out and stroke it, like a luscious mink coat I’d feel guilty about petting while I totally grooved on the furry. This job necessarily brings out the worst in us, usually at the same moment. We were feeling the buzz now. That rush of God-power that precedes most kills. Lucky for us, my contrary nature drives me to poke holes in anything that seems overinflated.

“I had a parakeet named Murray once. How about that?” I asked.

His shoulders dropped. “Are you serious? When you look at me you think . . . parakeet?”

“Definitely,” I said, warming up to the idea now that I knew he hated it. “Because your eyes turn all kinds of colors like a parakeet’s feathers. And your fangs are kind of shaped like its beak. Murray crapped on newspapers. And you read the newspapers while you —” His look stopped me. “Or maybe, being a vampire, that’s not a necessary function. But since you eat, and you take the papers, I just thought —”

“Jasmine!”

“You’re right. This conversation should definitely wait until we’ve known each other a while longer.” I didn’t catch his entire reply, but it sounded like he might’ve said, “A hundred years longer.”

“Okay,” came Cole’s voice. “I’ve had all I can stand without puking. Plus, the bad guys are coming. Repeat, Wizard henchies are on the loose.”

I took off the necklace I wore, worked the shark’s tooth into the lock, and waited while Bergman’s molten metal worked itself into the correct configuration. Within ten seconds we were inside, sans alarm, thanks to our baited TV van. I spared a moment to hope for their success. Then I brought all my concentration back to the task at hand.

We’d walked into a room that seemed too small and far too plain for the rest of the house. It was as if the architect had come to this corner and mused, “Well . . . they are going to need somewhere to throw their bloody clothes.” In America we’d have called it a mud room. It was basically an eight-by-nine dump-your-shoes-and-shawl area, with a row of pegs on the wall opposite the door on which hung a couple of caps. Faded brown tile covered the floor. Two steps led up to another door.

I unzipped the pouch at my waist as Vayl gently inched it open. The dental mirror I carried reflected a large meeting room. Dark and empty, it reminded me of a church basement. Long tables. Folding chairs. And on the other end a kitchen area. Smaller rooms adjoined the large one, but we weren’t interested in those. The Wizard was brewing up a storm on one of the upper floors.

I led the way through the kitchen to an alcove that contained a wooden stairway. This led to a second-floor hallway, but it also continued to the third floor.

“He’s up there,” I whispered. “Now, remember. The idea is
not
to kill him right away. Okay?”

“That is the third time you have reminded me!” Vayl hissed. “I am a professional, you know!”

“Kill him!” Cole yelled suddenly, his voice so loud in my ear I considered removing my receiver and stomping on it.

“Cole, what are you talking about?” I demanded.

“These guys he sent out after us? They’re zombies! Our bullets are barely slowing them down. So screw the plan! Kill him!”
Shit!
I should’ve known something weird was up when I didn’t see any mahghul gathering. But I’d thought it was because our guys hadn’t begun their part of the evening with murderous intent.

As Cole related the story later, they’d all agreed that only one of them really needed to physically stay inside the van and act as bait. And they’d elected Bergman. “You look like a TV geek,” Cam had told him genially.

“Hey, Miles,” Natch asked, holding up his Manx. “Didn’t you tell us this baby has a built-in silencer?”

“Yeah,” Bergman said, trying to hang on to his newfound toughness in light of Cam’s shocking news. “Just twist the barrel to the right until it won’t turn anymore.”

Cole clapped him on the shoulder. “Looks like your adventures have already started,” he said.

“Heh. Yeah,” said Bergman.

His Manx now in stealth mode, Natch unsnapped the holster at his hip, pulled his sidearm, a silenced Beretta M9, and handed it to Bergman. “Aim careful,” he said with a big grin as Bergman took the gun and stuttered his thanks. “We don’t want anybody down tonight but the bad guys. Got it?” Bergman nodded.

“Ya scared?”

Bergman nodded again. But he said, “No, not at all. Of course, my bowels are so loose if I stood up I’d shit down both legs. But I’m sure it was just something I ate.” They looked at each other for a couple of beats. Then they both burst into laughter. Natchez clapped Bergman on the shoulder and followed Cam out of the van.

Cole, already on the sidewalk, gave Bergman thumbs-up and closed the doors. After which they made themselves scarce. While they didn’t have Vayl’s powers, these guys were damn good at disappearing. Especially when they came prepared, wearing the black body armor that usually went underneath their uniforms, and having already darkened their faces. Except for Natch, of course, who liked to say God created him for night combat. Cole ended up tucked between two cars parked a quarter block up the road. Cam and Natch faded into the shadows provided by the recessed gates of the houses nearest the van.

The Wizard’s men didn’t even try for sneaky. Almost as soon as our guys had secreted themselves they trooped out the front gate, six in all, headed straight for the van. Once he saw they’d cleared the street, Cole moved in behind them, hugging cover, making his way to the driver’s side. The men never even looked over their shoulders. They were that confident. When they realized nobody sat in either of the front seats they all went around to the side and threw open the door.

Cole had figured on getting a jump on the Wizard’s men. So when the bad guys made their move, Cole aimed his Manx through the driver’s side window and yelled, “Freeze!”

Except, as walking dead, they only heeded a single command. And that was coming from inside the house.

“Cole, they’re zombies!” screamed Bergman.

“Get out now!” Cole shouted as he saw one of them raise his weapon. He riddled the creature with bullets as Bergman grabbed one of the cameras and dove for the back door. He threw it open and jumped out, falling to his knees, but saving the equipment from harm.

“Take cover!” Cam yelled, as the zombies, three of them downed by Cole’s quick reaction, began to return fire.

As soon as Bergman was out of the way, Cam and Natch opened up from behind the zombies, ripping into the backs of their heads with rounds designed to leave only fragments in the aftermath.

Bergman joined Cole behind the van as the zombies turned on their attackers. Even though most of them could no longer see through their own eyes, their master could. Cam and Natch vaulted the nearest wall just as they opened up.

“Jasmine, haven’t you found the bastard yet?” Cole demanded as he covered his comrades’ withdrawal. “We’re in some dire straits here!”