Underwood nodded in agreement. “Well yes, you did begin as human, but with all the improvements, both mental and physical, it seems as if you could rise above the human savagery.”
“We have evolved past your savagery. The Foundation helps our members in need, so theft is not a necessity the way it is in your society. For people that can look forward to living forever, there is no need to cram so much living into each second. Other than the physical needs of the regeneration process, there is very little violence among the Chosen.”
“Not counting Patrick’s victim, or his consequential murder, there have been six deaths relating to his case, all performed by members of the Chosen. I would hardly call that a peaceful society.”
The senator endeavored to make him understand. “But these acts of violence have been defensive acts. We are merely trying to defend the anonymity of our society from the ignorance of humans. Throughout history, humans have held us in revulsion, and attacked us whenever we were revealed.”
A derisive laugh escaped from Underwood’s lips. “Gee, that’s odd. You kill people, usually by torturing them, as Patrick did, and the people loathe you. What a surprise.”
A thought came to Underwood and he continued, “Why not turn everyone into a Chosen? That way nobody will fear you? Rather than attack innocent victims, you could hold gladiator contests between members who are ready to regenerate. The winner uses the loser’s blood to regenerate.”
“A good solution, but it’s been tried. There seems to be a difference in the blood of the Chosen, and their blood won’t work. We need human blood.”
“There must be a way to synthesize the necessary elements needed.”
“We have tried. That is the reason the Walachia Foundation was created so many centuries ago. Much of your own knowledge about blood derives from research performed by or funded by the Foundation. So far, the research has failed to find any substitutes for fresh human blood. But we continue to search for an answer. Most of us would welcome the opportunity to end the secrecy and deception. Maybe then all humankind could join us.”
Underwood paused to consider. “You know, the publicity on this case wouldn’t have been as great, and the revulsion as strong if you had just killed your victims a different way - shooting, hanging, or something.”
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “Yeah, right. You shot me. Many times in fact. See how well that worked?”
It was hard to argue with that. “Okay, the normal methods of killing wouldn’t have worked with Patrick. But if you had just stopped with his assassination. You could have gotten the evidence without killing Williams and Bell. Then the whole thing would have blown over, and this whole brouhaha with the media would have been avoided. For a group who wants to keep a low profile, you sure have put yourself in the limelight.”
The Senator looked chagrined. “You’re absolutely right. I have made a mess of it. An unfortunate turn of events. I was told to take care of the traitorous Patrick because I had knowledge of the police station and could get to him easier. And I was directed to use the sacred sword as a warning to others. But when I lifted that sword and the blade began to swing, the ecstasy I felt! No orgasm was ever as sweet. I had killed before, but only in the throes of the craving - the need for rebirth. The feeling of power that sword gave me.” She licked her lips. “May the gods forgive me, I grew to love the killing.”
Underwood didn’t move. His face in an unflinching mask, he could almost feel his admiration for the woman melt away as he realized how little she cared about the deaths. Just like the politics she played, the lust for power was more important than the lives she harmed or destroyed. Power corrupts - absolute power corrupts absolutely. And who would have more power and crave even more than a group of immortals who could afford to wait years and even decades for their plans to bear fruit. These beings were virtual gods and, while they claimed to remember their roots, they looked down on the poor mortals as being inferior. Well he didn’t feel inferior.
Underwood stood up and pulled his revolver. The shotgun he placed across the arms of the chair he had been sitting in. Without taking his eyes off the shackled Senator, the Captain moved to the medical cabinet next to the door, and began opening drawers “I think I’ve heard enough for now.” He found and removed a scalpel from a drawer. “Now Senator, I’m going to partially remove your bonds. I want your word that you will not try to attack me as I do this. If you do I will be forced to use this gun.”
“Very well. I agree to your request. Anything to get free of these ridiculous restraints.”
The police officer quickly unlocked the handcuffs from the bed frame, leaving the key on the bed. Never taking the gun sight off her head, he then cut through the ropes, and nicked the edge of the surgical tape. A detour to the camera and the video tape was removed. He went back to the chair and picked up the shotgun. “You should be able to finish ripping off the tape in a few minutes, once I get out that door. If you try to follow me, I’ll blow your face off. Even if it doesn’t kill you, it’ll hurt like hell. And the video tape becomes public.”
“Your point is well taken, Captain. I’ll give you your head start.” She remained motionless, suppressing her urge to break free.
Underwood nodded, but did not take his eyes off her as he backed out the door. He quickly headed for the parking lot, got in his car and proceeded to his office.
Savannah has been called America’s first planned city. One hundred fourteen colonists, led by General James Edward Oglethorpe, arrived in 1732 at the Yamacraw Bluff on the Savannah River. This was the beginning of the last of the thirteen colonies. The founding of Georgia began as a barrier between the rest of the British colonies and Spanish Florida. General Oglethorpe enlisted the aid of Colonel William Bull in designing the settlement around a series of squares where public meetings could be held and public services were located. Shops and homes sprang up around the squares. In the planning twenty four squares were created. All but two survive to this day.
Located in the middle of this series of squares, the Savannah Police Department stood right across the street from Colonial Park Cemetery, where many of the early founders of Georgia were buried. Underwood’s office overlooked the park. When he had a tough decision to make, he liked to look out his window down at where so many of the founding fathers of the city and state lay in peace, among the stately trees and majestic monuments. They too had their share of problems and he tried to imagine what they would do in the same situation.
As Captain Underwood approached his office, his secretary welcomed him with the usual pile of messages, announcements and requests that he was forced to shuffle through each day. The top message caught his eye. On his way through the door, he directed his secretary to get Hamilton and Hurst to his office immediately. Entering the office he punched the number on the message into the phone.
“FBI office. May I help you?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m returning a call from Assistant Director Adkins.”
“One moment please.”
A brief pause, and “Adkins here.”
Underwood leaned back in the chair as he spoke. “Assistant Director Adkins, this is Captain Underwood from the Savannah Police. My secretary tells me you have an urgent need to speak to me.”
“Yes, Captain. I understand that Agent Palmer has been working with you on this unusual problem you seem to have. Could you fill me in on the case?”
Confusion swept the captain’s thoughts. This was not standard practice. “Certainly, sir. But if I may say so, Agent Palmer is aware of all of the particulars of the situation, up to a few days ago. Is he going to be present? I wouldn’t want it to seem like I was going over his head in this matter.”
“I regret to inform you that Agent Palmer’s body was found two days ago in a marsh off Skidaway Island near the mouth of the Savannah River. The body had been decapitated, and the head is still missing. Identification took so long because the body was in such bad shape. He had been in the water for at least 48 hours before he was found.”
Underwood sat in stunned silence for a minute.
“Hello?”
“I’m sorry, Agent Adkins. The news just caught me by surprise. I found Agent Palmer to be a very professional member of your team. His presence will be missed.”
“Thank you Captain. We need to debrief you on this case he was assisting you with. The similarities between his death and the deaths in your case lead us to believe it might be the same perpetrator. Until now, our presence was merely advisory. Now that a federal agent has been slain, it becomes a federal matter.”
“I understand, Director Adkins. I just got back in my office and have several messages to respond to. Let me check my schedule and give you a call back, say within a half hour, to set up an appointment.”
The Captain’s next priority was Hamilton and Hurst. The detectives were waiting as he hung up the phone. He ushered them into his office. “What’s the latest on the Senator and her friends?”
The two detectives looked at each other. Hamilton moved to close the door. “The last time we saw her she was with you. Or at least her body was. You mean to tell us she’s still alive?”
“The reports of her death were unreliable at best. You saw the dents in the car trunk as the dead body tried to smash its way out. The two officers who claim they saw her die should think long and hard before they make out a report. They would look pretty foolish when she enters the federal building tomorrow.”
Hurst shook his head. “Man, this case gets weirder by the moment. I swear I saw Alfred Hitchcock twice this morning.”
Underwood smiled. “Forgetting the cemetery for a second, as if we could, do you have any new information to give me?”
Hamilton opened his notebook. “I did a check on that Walachia Foundation. It seems to be a network of businesses. The majority of the ones my source was able to trace seem to perform research relating to blood. According to him they have published some incredible results over the last few years.”
Hurst nodded. “The blood tie-in seems to show a link.”
Hamilton agreed. “Here’s the clincher. I looked up the word Walachia. In the mid-1400s there was a small country called Walachia in what is now Romania. Its claim to fame in the past consists of it being the home of the Prince of Walachia, Vlad the Impaler, aka Vlad Dracul, which means Vlad the Devil. His son was called the Devil’s Son or, as we know and love him, Dracula.”
The captain’s eyes got big as he digested what had been disclosed. His finger started doing its thing. “You mean Walachia is another name for Transylvania?”
Hurst hadn’t heard any of this from his partner yet and his jaw dropped as Hamilton answered. “Actually, no. Walachia and Transylvania were neighbors, before Michael the Brave united them in 1599, but then he lost Transylvania to the Holy Roman Empire the next year. Michael the Brave was another prince of Walachia, until he was deposed by the Poles later on. Now Walachia and Transylvania are both part of Romania.”
Hurst looked at his partner with awe. “My partner, the walking encyclopedia, strikes again.”
Hamilton looked at Underwood and added. “My partner thinks he’s a wit. Actually he’s only half right.”
Underwood interrupted before the pair could continue with their perpetual gibes. “Okay, now that we have this information, what do we do with it? We now know that we are not facing just a few of these monsters, we are facing an entire organization - virtually a whole race of superhuman beings. We need to find some way to stop not only the Senator, but the Walachia Foundation as well. Suggestions?”
Hurst looked at both men and answered. “Don’t look at me. I left my kryptonite in my other suit.”
The Captain turned to Hamilton. “What about you?”
The detective shook his head. “I’ll go to the library tonight and look up ‘World Saving, How To.’”
Underwood dismissed the men with a wave of his hand. “Let me know if you think of anything. In the meantime, I think I’ll check with Doctor Bell. Maybe she has some ideas.”
Hurst snickered. “I think we all know who has ideas about who when it comes to the beautiful Doctor Bell.”
Hamilton’s elbow in the ribs stopped Hurst’s remarks, and the two detectives continued down the hallway with Hamilton berating his partner. “Now don’t talk that way about our beloved Captain. Besides, it should have been who has ideas about whom. The English language has always been a mystery to you. I remember last week you were mangling a participle . . .”