Department 19: Zero Hour (28 page)

People who were on her side at the Loop?
thought Matt, with an inward grimace.
What about me and Jamie and Kate? Don’t we count?

“I bet he was,” said Matt, as they stopped outside a grey metal door.

“Right,” said Kara. “But then she got called home and didn’t take us with her. And that was so obviously because of Tim, and I guess she felt that if she wasn’t taking
him
then she couldn’t take the rest of us. So she picked six totally different names and disappeared on that plane of yours. She didn’t even say goodbye.”

“Jesus,” said Matt. “You weren’t kidding when you said it was a mess, were you? I didn’t have a clue about any of that. She never mentioned it at all.”

Kara shrugged, and forced a small smile. “Can’t blame her, I suppose,” she said. “Although she could have at least told us that she’d changed her mind. We would have understood, and that way we could have actually said goodbye to her. But what’s done is done. I’m sure I’ll see her again.”

“Probably,” said Matt. “It’s a small world.”

Although I hope it’s not small enough for me to ever run into Tim Albertsson. There are a few things I’d like to say to him if I did.

“Here we are then,” said Kara. “General Allen is expecting you.”

“OK,” said Matt. “It was nice to meet you.”

Kara smiled. “You too, Matt,” she said. “I’m sorry if I told you anything you didn’t want to hear.”

“It’s all right,” said Matt. “I’m glad Larissa has people here that care about her. She deserves it.”

Kara nodded and walked quickly away down the corridor. Matt watched her go, then turned to the door. On the wall beside it was a grey intercom box with a black button at the bottom. Matt pressed it, heard a long buzzing sound, and waited.

“Yes?” said a voice.

“Lieutenant Browning, sir.”

“Matt!” shouted the voice. “Welcome, son! Come on in.”

The metal door unlocked. Matt pushed it open, and stepped into General Allen’s quarters.

The main room was structurally similar to the one five thousand miles away that was occupied by Cal Holmwood, but while that space was grey and functional, General Allen’s quarters felt immediately warm and welcoming. A wide desk stood to one side, in front of walls panelled with dark wood. The screen opposite was in the same place as in Holmwood’s room, but was surrounded on both sides by a sprawling collection of photographs and flags and pennants and scarves in black and gold, the colours of the West Point football team. The occupant of the room was rounding the desk and making his way towards Matt, a smile on his face, his hand extended.

“Lieutenant Browning,” said General Allen. “Pleasure to meet you, son.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Matt, taking hold of the offered hand. The grip that closed round his fingers felt like a vice, and he tried not to wince as his arm was pumped up and down.

“Larissa told me all about you,” said Allen. “It’s great to put a face to the stories.”

“Thank you, sir,” repeated Matt. He was already beginning to wonder whether he could live up to the version of himself that Larissa had clearly enthused about during her time in Nevada.

“Come and sit down,” said Allen, releasing Matt’s hand and motioning towards a pair of sofas. “Drink?”

“Water, sir?” said Matt.

“Coming right up,” said Allen, and strolled towards a fridge at the rear of the room.

Matt lowered himself on to one of the sofas and watched his host as he extracted a bottle of water and a can of Diet Coke; the NS9 Director was huge, as tall and broad as a wrestler, with the deep tan and weathered face of someone who has spent many years in the desert. Allen strode back across the quarters and smiled widely as he handed the bottle over; Matt could feel an almost supernatural warmth emanating from him, an invisible wave of overpowering charisma.

“How was the flight?” asked the Director, flopping down into the other sofa and opening his drink.

“Short, sir,” said Matt, and took a long sip of his water. He was feeling slightly overwhelmed; on his own, far from home, and surrounded by people who seemed so different to those he had left behind.

“Of course,” said Allen. “She’s a hell of a plane.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You know why you’re here, right?” asked Allen. “Cal briefed you?”

Matt nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m to act as an observer to the team you’re sending to locate Adam.”

“That’s it,” said Allen. “The operation is code-named GARDEN OF EDEN. Our Intelligence Division is working on the information we received from Cal Holmwood, and expects to have a target location by the time the team departs.”

“So where are we going, sir?” asked Matt. “If we don’t have an actual location?”

“San Francisco,” said Allen. “The intelligence we have suggests it as the most likely place that Adam would return to. We’ve commandeered a laboratory on the USF campus. That’s where you’re going to take Adam when you find him, so you can do what you need to do before you bring him back here. Is that all clear?”

“Yes, sir,” said Matt, his stomach suddenly full of nerves. “Absolutely.”

“Are you sure, son?”

“I’m a scientist, sir,” said Matt. “I’m not an Operator.”

Allen smiled. “Cal wouldn’t have sent you here if he didn’t think you could handle it,” he said, his voice deep and warm. “I asked for a member of the Lazarus Project to go with my team and he sent me you. On a personal level, I’m glad he did, because I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time, but he didn’t have to. He chose you.”

Unfamiliar pride spread through Matt’s chest and he smiled. “That’s good to know, sir,” he said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Lieutenant,” said the Director. “GARDEN OF EDEN departs at 1800, with the briefing to be carried out in flight. Until then, have a look round, get some sleep, make yourself at home. Be back here ready to go fifteen minutes before departure.”

“I will, sir,” said Matt, his stomach churning. “I’ll be ready.”

“Operators,” said Cal Holmwood, staring down from behind the lectern at the front of the Ops Room. “This is DARKWOODS, a multinational operation under the command authority of NS9. I trust I don’t need to make either of you aware of the Priority Level we’re dealing with here?”

“No, sir,” said Jamie, and glanced over at Larissa as she echoed him. The colour in her face had faded, thankfully; they had dressed hurriedly before making their way up from Level B, and she had been worried it might not do so quickly enough.

“Good,” said Holmwood. “The two of you were selected by NS9 to represent our Department on this operation. In addition to the squad leader Nevada are sending, there will be three Operators joining you in Germany. Please don’t bother asking me who they are, because I don’t know. You’re scheduled to depart for the FTB in ninety minutes, so let’s not waste any more time than is necessary. Direct your attention to the screen behind me.”

Jamie looked up at the flat wall screen as Holmwood stepped out from behind the lectern, his insides cold with disappointment.

So that’s why I’m going,
he thought.
Not because Cal forgave me for what happened in the graveyard, but because it wasn’t his decision to make. If it had been, there’s not a chance in hell I’d be going. I can see it all over his face.

The screen came to life, displaying satellite imagery of a vast expanse of forest, a seemingly endless landscape of green and brown. Grid references and topographical survey data appeared in boxes at the left of the screen, as the name of the operation glowed in white letters at the top.

Darkwoods
, thought Jamie.
Seems about right, looking at that. Jesus.

“This,” said Holmwood, “is the Teleorman Forest in central Romania, not far from Bucharest. It is approximately twelve hundred square miles in size, and has existed relatively unchanged for more than a thousand years.” The Interim Director tapped a series of keys and a yellow dot appeared at the edge of the forest, near a small village. “This is where Grey woke up after his search for the first victim ended.” He tapped the console again and a red ring appeared.

“This has been selected as your primary search area, based on Grey’s recollections, which are incomplete and contradictory at best. It encompasses almost a hundred square miles. Satellite and thermographic imaging has proven inconclusive, meaning we have absolutely no idea what’s in there. You should consider it a starting point, not a definitive range. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” said Larissa.

Holmwood nodded, and turned his gaze on Jamie.

“Yes, sir,” he said.

“Good,” said the Interim Director. “I’m no fan of hyperbole, and I don’t normally pay much attention to prophecies and legends. But I do believe in telling it like it is. We all know what the potential implications of this operation are, as well as the high possibility of disappointment. Grey’s testimony is far from reliable, and we have no way of assessing the theory of the first victim without putting him in a lab,
if
he even exists. But if there is any truth to the story, any truth whatsoever, then this will be remembered as one of the most important missions in the history of this, or any other, Department. If the first victim is real, he will be more than four centuries old, and most likely almost as powerful as Dracula himself. I’m certain that I don’t need to explain why that would make him a potentially game-changing asset. So if he’s real, you find him, and you bring him back here, by whatever means necessary.”

“What if he doesn’t want to come, sir?” asked Jamie.

“I don’t suggest you give him that option,” said Holmwood. “Now listen to me, both of you. From a tactical standpoint, you and the rest of your team are going to be searching for a vampire who is believed to be one of the oldest in the world, and whose disposition and motives are entirely unknown. Disregard Dracula, and the legend, and everything else, and you’re still looking at an operation that has the potential to be extremely dangerous, and I want you to treat it accordingly. Regardless of certain incidents that have taken place in the last forty-eight hours, I have no desire to see either of you return to the Loop in a box. So be careful over there. Very careful.”

“We will, sir,” said Jamie, looking across at Larissa. She returned his gaze, red flickering in the deepest corners of her eyes.

“I believe you,” said Holmwood. His face, which had been tight with professionalism as he spoke, softened, and he looked at the two young Operators with clear affection. “Don’t make me regret doing so. You’ll be briefed again when you arrive in Germany, and everything we have has been forwarded to your consoles. Study it, take it all in, and be in the hangar at 1630. It goes without saying that the existence of this Operation, as well as your roles in it, is Zero Hour classified. Please take that to mean don’t tell anyone under any circumstances, not don’t tell anyone apart from your friends if you feel like it.” He fixed his gaze firmly on Jamie, and it took all of his resolve not to look away. “All right. Good luck to you. Dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Larissa, standing up.

Jamie did likewise, nodded to the Interim Director, and followed his girlfriend out of the Ops Room. He had barely shut the door behind him before Larissa pressed herself against him and threw her arms round his shoulders.

“Take it easy,” he said.

“I told you,” said Larissa. “Even if it was NS9 who chose you for the mission, you could hear how highly Cal rates you.”

“All he said was that he doesn’t want either of us to die,” said Jamie. “I’m not sure that’s a particularly glowing endorsement.”

Larissa released her grip on him and narrowed her eyes. “This is a big deal, Jamie,” she said. “Maybe the biggest deal of all time, and you and I get to go, together. You need to get excited.”

Jamie forced a smile. “I am,” he said, although he wasn’t. What he
was
feeling was a knot of nervousness twisting in his stomach; the mission was his opportunity to redeem himself, to show that he could be trusted, and he was terrified of screwing it up.

“Do you know anyone who’s been to the FTB?” asked Larissa.

Jamie nodded. “Dominique’s been a few times. Angela’s been, and Cal and Major Turner, obviously.”

Larissa grinned. “And us, in a few hours,” she said. “We need to go through the intelligence before we get ready to go.”

“OK,” said Jamie. “One of the briefing rooms will be empty.”

Larissa’s eyes flashed as she shook her head. “My room,” she said, and smiled, wickedly.

The helicopter touched down with a heavy thud and Larissa felt a burst of excitement crackle through her.

The flight from the Loop to Complex 17, the headquarters of the German Office of the Supernatural that was universally referred to as the
Schwartzhaus
, had been frustratingly long; it had taken almost an hour to cover the three hundred and fifty miles between East Anglia and the outskirts of Dortmund, a distance that Larissa could have travelled on her own in barely half the time. As a result, she had spent the journey impatiently fiddling with the weapons and equipment on her belt, and reading and re-reading the intelligence summary on her console. It contained little more than the information Cal Holmwood had given them in the Ops Room, but it helped to alleviate her frustration, at least momentarily.