De Vries stood, in a swift motion that made Rachel wince involuntarily, but that seemed to have no effect on Wolf. The two shook hands, and she got the feeling they had once been very close.
“My friend,” said Wolf softly, “don’t let it be so long next time. The rest of us age a lot faster than you do.”
De Yries laughed. “If I live through this, I promise we’ll head to the country and do some night hunting. Swear.”
Wolf held de Vries’ grip for a moment more, then dropped his hand and began to limp to the door. At the door he turned, as if he’d just remembered something. “The least I can do is arrange safe transport through Hell’s Kitchen for you. We don’t want things to go south on you before you even get to where you’re going.”
De Vries nodded without saying anything.
Wolf smiled, and pulled a card out of his jacket. “Call this number when you’re ready to go in. Use my name and you won’t have any problems.”
“Goodbye, my friend.”
“Goodbye.” Wolf turned his gaze to Rachel again, and gave her a brief, sad smile. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Rachel. What you’re up against isn’t going to be pretty, but trust Martin. He knows what he’s doing, and despite how he looks, he really is one of the good guys.”
Rachel watched silently as the man left, feeling as if she’d understood only about a quarter of what had just transpired.
De Vries turned back to the room and smiled, but unlike Wolf’s good-natured grin, the vampire’s made her shiver. “Well, I wasn’t actually expecting his help, but it never hurts to ask. How did things go on your end?”
Rachel pulled a smoke out of her bag, and lit it. She checked the clock on the trid rig. “Flak’ll be here in about an hour. He and his friends will hear you out, then decide.”
De Vries’ smile grew even wider. “Excellent.”
11
You’re telling me that after all I’ve done for you, after I’ve discovered a procedure that will net you billions in nuyen, you now have the audacity to question my methods? The Leonizarion process is the pinnacle of life-lengthening procedures, and you now seek grounds to dismiss me? Are you mad?
–
Oslo Wake, defending his use of metahuman subjects before the Board of Ethics and Review, Universal Omnitech New York City. Transcript #ETH678 p. 347, 20 September 2051
Raul Pakow pulled the needle from Warren D’imato’s arm and set it on the small metal tray. Warren looked op at him, dazed. He’d come to in the operating theater, where Pakow was carrying out various preparatory procedures. Pakow was trying to tell him quickly what was going on.
“Which piece did you buy?” Warren asked.
“I purchased ‘Past Battles’ at a show of your work a year or so ago. Down in the 11 District.”
Warren’s look of confusion turned to one of distant pleasure. He was about to speak but Pakow cut him off. “That piece of stone is the only thing keeping you alive right now. Like I said, the man who owns this place has plans for you that you couldn’t imagine in your worst nightmares. I was blind for awhile, but not anymore. Now. I know I’ve got to try and stop this madness, but if Wake were to find out what I’ve done, there’s no telling what might happen. I’ve put my whole family at risk trying to help you. Something’s happened to him, and it gets worse everyday. He was always strange, but now he seems downright certifiable.”
Pakow looked down at Warren, whose eyes had become unfocused. “You rest now. Someone should be coming soon to help you. I make no promises, but I’ll do what I can to get you out of here.”
Pakow put the protective straps back in place, then went over to the deck on the console. Jacking into the Matrix, he followed a series of maneuvers he’d been using for almost four months, and found himself in a small drop box.
As quickly as he could, he left a message. I’ve bought us some more time, but not much. You must pick up the package within forty-eight hours, or else it will be spoiled.
Pakow didn’t bother putting a name to the message. He knew that de Vries would figure it out. Jacking out, he took one last look at Warren D’imato, and shuddered. He hoped the vampire hunter was as good as his word, because he suddenly felt as if he’d put all of his chips into one slot, and if that slot didn’t hold, he wouldn’t survive.
12
De Vries uses a variety of strategies when hunting vampires. He prefers to battle them hand-to-hand, draining blood and essence from his targets. A curious magical artifact he discovered on an Indonesian trip in 2045 is said to give him an edge in such duels, though its nature is unknown. However; in the case of an exceptionally dangerous opponent, he has been known to hire samurai with extreme capabilities-explosives and frag-lethal fire and blast results.
–
Posted to Shadowland BBS by Doktor Freeman and the Deathcore Kid, 22 March 2055
Rachel paced her way around the living room for what seemed the thousandth time. Then she walked over to the now-overflowing ashtray and stubbed out her cigarette with a fierce jabbing motion.
Seated on the blue futon, de Vries reached into his duster and pulled out his pack of Platinum Selects, Rachel had run out of smokes almost thirty minutes ago, and they had fallen into a pattern. She would pace, gulping coffee and smoking until she’d finished her cigarette, at which time de Vries, without being asked, would give her another. Then the process would repeat while he himself continued to chain-smoke.
“If you don’t mind my saying so, Rachel, if you have one more cup of coffee, I think your head might explode. That is, if your lungs don’t collapse first.”
Rachel turned to him angrily. “I do mind,” She took a deep drag of her cigarette.
De Vries laughed. “Well, it’s nice to see that you no longer have any fear of me. But you might want to consider being more polite. After all, I’m the one doing you a favor.”
There was a small beep, and De Vries looked at his wrist-phone. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.” He answered the call. Rachel watched him talk quietly, expecting bad news, but suddenly his face brightened. “That is good news. You’re sure of the origin of the message? Excellent.”
He disconnected, and looked up at Rachel with a small smile. “It would appear that we’ve been given a little more time than I’d originally thought. Still, it isn’t as much as I’d have liked.”
Rachel turned toward the door again, and her frustration boiled to the surface. “Where in the hell are they? They should have been here already.”
She turned to look at de Vries, who had a faraway look in his eyes. “Your friends are very close, my dear. Very close, indeed. In fact, I’m quite impressed.”
Rachel’s forehead suddenly prickled with sweat. “What are you talking about?”
De Vries’ eyes snapped back into focus. “Your friends are most cunning. Tricky, tricky, tricky. They’ll be here in a few moments, so I suggest you have a seat. It wouldn’t do for them to get over-anxious, so why don’t you come and sit next to me?”
Rachel continued to look at him without comprehension.
“My dear,” said De Vries again. “What I’m trying to tell you is that you’re about to be treated to a sight few people not connected with the military ever get to see. So, sit down. Now.”
Almost without realizing she was doing it, Rachel crossed the room and sat down shoulder to shoulder with De Vries.
As she relaxed into the sofa cushions, the lights in the apartment seemed to dim, flickered twice, and then came back up.
Rachel jumped as the figure of Flak seemed to materialize suddenly in the center of the living room. Towering only a few steps away. Flak had changed out of his work outfit, and was now dressed in heavy camos that seemed to shift and swirl in the light, making it hard for Rachel to look at them. He wore a hood she recognized as a balaclava, even though it was pushed back upon his forehead. She could just make out the handle of a big gun strapped to Flak’s back, but near his hip, where the barrel should have been, she could see six small barrels, configured in a circle. She’d never seen anything like it, and just the sight of such a piece of hardware sent a small thrill through her.