|
904. alistairconnor - 1/23/2009 11:59:22 PM Alistair and Halima spent much of the afternoon speculating as to what cruel and unusual disease they were subjected to. "Some sort of tropical fever? Malaria?" she guessed. "No, nothing like that's endemic in New Zealand." he replied.
"Rabies then? Been bitten by anything?"
"No, NZ is the cleanest place on earth for all that nasty stuff."
"Oh really. Then I guess it's some obscure sexual affection. You'd better come clean with me. Or should that be : you'd better come cleanly with me?"
"At last! The doctor's here!"
"Don't think that'll get you off the hook my dear..."
Cascu had, by arrangement, brought some groceries. They had agreed to make the quarantine as complete as possible, at least until they had some test results.
"So, Doctor : what have we been tested for exactly?"
"Well." Cascu looked uncomfortable. "It's a phenomenon that is often associated with Rumania..."
"Child gymnasts?"
"Creepy dictators?"
"Deplorable orphanages?"
"Vampires?"
"The last one, I'm afraid."
"..."
"Oh come on Doc. I never got bitten by anything bigger than a large mosquito. There were pretty young women dressed as vampires in New Zealand, but none of them even tried to kiss me in the neck. I don't understand it, I gave them every opportunity. But all joking aside, you expect social security to pay us sick leave for ... suspected vampirism?"
"Actually, that is a non-trivial problem in itself."
"Ah, so you and I and Halima are likely to end up being prosecuted for fraud because of your crackpot ideas?"
"No : you and I and Halima are likely to end up being prosecuted for fraud because social security will never admit to such a medical condition, even if it does get identified and categorised scientifically. Which is far from being the case at the moment. Yes, I'm afraid we're all in for financial difficulties if my tentative diagnosis gets confirmed."
"Doctor, frankly, if we're to turn into vampires, financial difficulties are not the most pressing of our worries!"
"I wish you wouldn't laugh when you say that. On the other hand, there's no harm in it. As long as the worst is not certain." 905. webfeet - 1/24/2009 12:11:03 AM So, how is "Alistair" feeling today?
Not bad for flu-inspired prose, mon cher, especially the odd part about your doctor wearing a surgical mask. I like the eerie way you wove that in, coupled with the detail that he is Romanian, Transylvanian or whatever. You know, garlic is very good for warding off colds as it is vampires...
Jen, adorable shot. Now, who is the texan? You should follow Nigella's lead and whip off the denim and show off your hooters. One question: what is that Nigella has on the table, brandied toads? Did you sample one?
Hmmm..I wonder what sort of Guerlain-inspired wonder dust does Nigella sprinkle all over to get that glow. We could use some in dismal, sub-arctic New York. Although today was like spring in comparison. It went up to 37.
Well, carry on vampires. With Jen's agile plot devices, you are actually getting somewhere..I think..although i confess to be being perplexed by the 'changer status'. This sort of jargon eludes me.
906. alistairconnor - 1/24/2009 12:30:35 AM In the meantime, Alistair and Halima were both on ten-day sick leave for the flu : an unusually long break but not unheard of. In fact, Alistair's flu was severe, and incapacitated him nearly that long; Halima had already had it, but during her holidays, with no time off work, so there was technically fraud, but again, nothing implausible.
Alistair and Halima had decided to suspend their disbelief, for the ten day period, and co-operate fully with Cascu and any other experts who could elucidate the matter. At the end of that time, if nothing conclusive turned up, they would go back to work and regard the whole thing as a fairy story.
Cascu had explained that the "vampire" infection was distinct from actual vampirism, which itself was a strictly hereditary condition. There were few observable symptoms of the infection, and no harmful effects, other than the little detail of being the slave of the vampire who originated the infection.
How did the vampire take control of the victim, and to what end? Evidence was very fragmentary and anecdotal on that score.
"The doctor who will be analyzing your blood samples was very interested in your episodes in Hong Kong and Lyon, especially when he learned that they happened at about dawn. He is convinced that you were used in some sort of teleportation mechanism. Ok, go ahead, laugh. I'm getting used to it. I confess I wonder if he's right in the head myself, I've never heard of such a phenomenon, but he claims to understand the physics of it. Kronen, his name is. He should receive your samples in Tübingen tomorrow. In the meantime, it seems likely -- to me, anyway -- that there is a vampire hanging around Lyon who has control over you."
"Well, I've been on a salary most of my life." Alistair remarked. 907. alistairconnor - 1/24/2009 1:09:57 AM The following day, after a few more tries, Cascu had located Dumitra : she was a staff anaesthetist at a provincial maternity hospital. She was to start her shift that evening at eight o'clock.
In what was to become a regular routine, he went to see Alistair and Halima as soon as he closed up his surgery. They had spent the day scouring the internet for any useful information about vampires.
"How can you filter anything useful out of all this crap?" said Alistair. "Well, 99% of everything on the internet is crap", remarked Halima. "This is no different." "Well, maybe in this case it's just 100% crap!"
In fact, 90% of the hits were references to modern vampire fiction, which they discounted completely. Most of the rest was older fiction or folklore, a few anthropological or historical accounts, and pretty much zero scientific study.
"There is a reason for that." explained Barzu. "People who really know about the subject keep it secret. Either because they are vampires themselves; or because they know that any attempt at publication would result in them being tracked down and killed by vampires."
"Sounds plausible," admitted Alistair. "But Occam's Razor tells me that the more plausible reason for the absence of scientific literature is that the phenomenon doesn't exist. Sorry if I sound like a broken record."
The discussion was interrupted by a call on Cascu's mobile. It was Kronen, with the first results of their analyses.
"The tests are quite rapid to execute, and quite conclusive, concerning the "A" and "H" samples : both are positive. The "S" sample is negative, however."
"Thank you, Doctor Kronen. The S sample was mine, I included it as a control."
"I'm afraid the test isn't very specific : it's quite binary in nature. It indicates that the subjects are either vampires themselves, or have been infected by contact with vampires' bodily fluids. I have developed a serum which appears to negate or attenuate the... imperative effect, do you understand me Dr Cascu? Yes? It requires cultivation from the subject's own blood serum. I believe I ought to confide the formula to you, Doctor."
"That would be an honor, Dr Kronen."
"Bloody hell, so there are two crackpots now? And we're to be their guinea pigs eh?" 908. alistairconnor - 1/24/2009 1:29:40 AM Still, it seemed like some sort of breakthrough, or milestone at least, and required a commemorative drink. During the ensuing discussion, Cascu noticed that it was eight o'clock, tried to excuse himself, and was warmly retained. Then found himself telling the story of himself and Dumitra, to a receptive and sympathetic audience. In truth, she was a sort of ghost that he dreaded facing alone. Halima took his hand and said : "Well, are you ready to call her now?"
"Doctor Dumitra Nicolu? This is Doctor Sorin Cascu."
Silence.
"Sorin? ... What can I do for you, Dr Cascu?"
Without a doubt, she sounded shaken, full of emotion. Then mastered it with her habitual hard, biting tone.
"I ... I am working on an unusual case, involving vampires. Since we once shared an interest in the subject, I thought it might be possible to collaborate. Also, this offers an opportunity to inquire as to your health, your employment, your happiness..."
"It's all shit, Sorin. All of it. This job. My happiness, very amusing. And as for my health, thanks for inquiring... I'm HIV positive. Intravenous drug use, don't you know. Oh yes, give me the bourgeois moralist lecture on that, could you please Sorin dear? How could I? Well guess what, shit happens. I'm off the morphine now thanks. Nearly got struck off for that. Now I do crystal meth whenever I can afford it. I did some tonight. It's what keeps me alive."
"Are... are you with anyone?"
"Ha! You should know me better, Sorin. Only a loser could want me. Oh, plenty do, believe me. But I don't do losers, as you know. And as for your vampire story, forget it. I don't know any vampires. In fact, there's no such thing. So get out of my life again now, OK honey?"
Sorin blurted : "But, but I love you!"
But the line was already dead. 909. Jenerator - 1/24/2009 5:06:56 AM Dr. Kronen pushed the button overhead for the flight attendant; he simply could not wait any longer to take the antiserum. His legs were now burning and he felt as though he might pass out.
Within seconds one appeared, and she looked at Dr Kronen and noticed that he was moist with perspiration.
"Are you alright, sir?" she asked.
"Err, I am fine. I need a lavatory, now," Kronen replied.
The flight attendant looked him over and saw that the man seemed nervous, in a hurry.
"Hmmm," she thought aloud. "Passengers are supposed to remain seated while the plane sits in taxi. We should be taking off soon. It's best to keep your seatbelt fashioned."
She looked around and spotted another passenger who pressed his overheard button. Off she went.
Dr. Kronen knew he needed to act soon, so he stuffed his attache case down his pants and made a dash for the lavatory. What he didn't realize, though, was that the flight attendant was watching his every move and had radio'd security. 910. Jenerator - 1/24/2009 5:25:08 AM [Webfeet. Thank you! I have been a Nigella fan for 10 years now and was pleasantly surprised when I heard that she was coming to Dallas for a book signing. She was very friendly and we chatted for several minutes - she complimented my watch, and that was when the picture was snapped. Honestly, she really is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. I bet Saatchi views her as his most valuable piece of art.
Nigella is quite a bit smaller than I imagined, too. Her waist is tiny and her impressive bust is not as enormous as it looks on tv. She's 49 and I am 37, and I would pay good money to have skin like that!
She served all of us various goodies from the book Nigella Express - those 'toads' were chocolate mint cookies, and they were actually very good.
I was one of only a handful of women waiting in line to meet her, and I think she was quite relieved by that. ] 911. Jenerator - 1/24/2009 8:28:56 PM That sounds weird. What I meant was, Nigella seemed genuinely relieved when there was the occasional woman in the line. Most of the men there were hoping to land her affections, others were gay but sill gobsmacked by her stunning beauty - all were mesmerized by her sensuality. Just sitting there in her simple pink cashmere sweater and long black skirt, she had an ethereal quality. I have never seen that in/on (?) any one else. 912. alistairconnor - 1/26/2009 6:24:37 PM Courtney felt dumb.
She also felt cold, hungry, tired, lonely and depressed. But most of all, she felt really dumb.
She was sick of lurking around Lyon in the rain (it should at least be snowing!). She had no-one to turn to, and she really needed to go Coffed. And now she was going to have to call her mum, to sort it all out for her.
And it had seemed like such a great idea at the time...
The thing about being a teenage vampire -- an honest-to-god, hereditary one, not a fashion victim - was that you could have a lot of fun with it these days. Especially with the kids who took it seriously.
Not that she ever exploited that in a nasty way. It's just that she could flaunt her difference rather than having to hide it. Nobody ever took her really seriously on that stuff anyway, which was all part of the fun.
But this transport thing -- and it had been a really big thrill, the most exciting thing in her short experience as a vampire -- had gone sour on her.
Her mother was a Californian vampire, and I mean that in the best possible way. Really into personal development : transcendental meditation, transactional analysis, Zen buddhism, you name it, Lara had tried it. Courtney laughed at that stuff, but really it formed an integral part of her culture and values. Lara's inner seeking had lead her to New Zealand, where she had met and married Ted, an eccentric carpenter (who now did a nice little sideline in coffins). They had had Courtney, then divorced ten years later. She had returned to California with Courtney, but two years ago, because of her involvement with vampire politics, where she was increasingly branded as a dissident, she had sent Courtney back to New Zealand to live with Ted.
Mixed marriages were frowned upon in vampire culture (and in some subcultures, punishable by death) but were much more common than was generally acknowledged (children of mixed parentage were even more common, but that's another question). There is no way to predict if a half-caste child will be a vampire or not : the canine tooth thing is completely unreliable. The only way to know is to wait for the child to reach puberty, leave a nice comfy empty coffin open, and see if they take to it.
What were Lara's feelings when fourteen-year-old Courtney started sleeping in her coffin? Joy or heartbreak? She never would say more than : "I love and accept my daughter totally, as she is". 913. alistairconnor - 1/26/2009 7:30:48 PM But she must, surely, have been relieved when it turned out that Courtney was a Changer, like herself. Of course she would still have loved her if she had had "special needs". Such as the need to stay in her coffin except at night time, like an ordinary vampire. But a Changer was much easier to live with, if you had chosen the route of integration into "normal" society, as Lara had chosen, for herself and for her daughter.
===========
"Courtney! Do you know what time it is in California? It's 4am! What the hell is so important?"
Courtney was already having trouble fighting the tears back. She just went with the flow for a couple of minutes. Her mother was quickly into supportive mode, and coaxed the whole sorry story out of her.
She had found the transport story on the internet. She had found that there was a surprising quantity of true vampire lore available among all the rubbish one could trawl through; not in the fashionable vampire fiction itself, but in the net culture surrounding it. Apparently she was not the only young vampire who liked to dabble, behind the safe anonymity of the net. She had identified three or four genuine vampires on MSN, among all the prattling make-believers.
So when "Jake" claimed that he knew how to teleport, she had taken him seriously, and she had learned to brew the potion and recite the incantation. And one night, she had climbed to the peak of one of Auckland's volcanic cones, and awaited the dawn while concentrating on a place a couple of hundred metres down the hill to the west, in an open field.
And it... had worked. No fireworks, no funny noises. No definable sensations either. She was just, suddenly, over there.
She'd been so excited she'd forgotten to be scared. And she'd forgotten ... sort of... to tell her mum about it. OK, so she knew her mum would disapprove. Lara wanted her to be knowledgeable in vampire lore, but to abstain from exercising it, as she herself did.
And she'd gone the extra step. The one that Jake had described as experimental : the use of a helper. He was evasive as to whether he had tried it himself. But the principle worked well, he claimed, and caused no harm to either party.
The opportunity had been there : her best friend's uncle was returning to France after a month's holiday. She'd never been to Europe, and, at seventeen, that was starting to become an affront to her cosmopolitan self-image.
The potion she needed to brew for herself required some organic material from the helper. That was easy enough : from the amount of hair on his pillow, you'd think he was on chemo. Then the contamination : easy to manage during a barbecue, a drop of her urine in his wine glass. She couldn't help thinking that by that stage of the evening, he probably would have drunk a whole glass of it if she'd asked him nicely. Still warm. With a pube floating on it. Then she slapped herself mentally for having such thoughts. 914. alistairconnor - 1/26/2009 7:32:03 PM It had all gone perfectly, on a technical level. She had felt remorse in Hong Kong, seeing Alistair slumped on the pavement, and had nearly gone over to help him, but he had recovered pretty quickly. She had seen a lot in her thirty-odd hours in HK, but she was ready to move on by mid-afternoon the second day, when, according to her calculation, the sun was set to rise in Lyon.
But after twenty-four hours in Lyon, she'd had enough. Being able to stay Lit for several days was great -- she was legendary for her ability to party like no other -- but with all the walking, she was physically tired out. And the 50 euros she had changed didn't go very far. And most of all, she knew nobody and she didn't speak the language.
No problem : the return trip was supposed to be easy. The plan was to hang around the airport, befriend some New Zealanders, and brew a second potion with their involuntary help. It had been going pretty well with Barry and Keisha, she had easily gotten an organic sample, but then she realised that they were heading for Copenhagen. Her second try turned sour : they must have thought she was a bit weird, they shook her off. In truth, she was already unnerved, and that finished her off.
"So, Mum, what do I do now?" 915. NuPlanetOne - 1/26/2009 7:51:24 PM Many things wafted through Dr. Kronen's mind as he continued his lecture. All of the strange circumstance and coincidence, Cascu, Alistair's blood samples and credible tales of teen-age vampires. These, as well as the incident on the plane, combined to keep him ill at ease. He felt bad about injecting the stewardess, and hoped she would be fine, but it got him off the plane and more importantly, he was feeling himself after taking a dose of the anti-serum. His theory that blocking electrolytes in the central nervous system, especially the specific ones he had isolated, (and partially omitted from the formula he gave to Dr. Cascu), interfered with the process of teleporting as he now knows Alistair survived being taken at dawn and was instead still safe under the watchful eye of Cascu and his staff.
He would need to win over a majority of those present at the meeting, he decided, most prominent of which was Dr. Errin Davidson. She alone was the only living human being, he felt, who understood the concept and math involved with Super String Theory, as well as having been the only person entrusted to decipher Einstein's unpublished notes and personal scribbled rants against Quantum gravity. Here, she pieced together a startling revelation superseding the Master's published conclusions, Field Theories and all the implications derived from his Special and General theories of relativity.
She insisted that in analyzing his private notes and calculations where he sought to establish a 'Theory of Everything,' a quest that consumed all of his later years, she identified a few, apparently anecdotal revisions to his original Field Theories all with solutions that ended in futility and infinite dead ends. Yet upon having spent months trying to decipher each step within these side bars, she suddenly, as if in a trance, and with a slight perturbation in one double set of integers, a set the genius had highlighted, a whole series of cascading proofs washed over her like waves in the Bay of Fundy.
And she would have missed it, had it not been for the work she had done in helping to explain his work on capillary motion and critical opalescence, which, suffice to say, together, and in the context of transporting physical molecules intact, had a bizarre connection to some exotic anomalies he had conjectured in some equations he had worked out in describing his world shattering work in photoelectric effects.
The larger point, of course, was that if things such as worm holes and parallel universes could be derived as by products of his monumental equations and independent solutions to his Field Theories, then why not his daydream doodles concerning teleportation.
916. NuPlanetOne - 1/26/2009 7:51:38 PM Kronen knew these things would excite Ms. Davidson. He would just have to convince her of the biological framework of which he was the accepted authority, and she was aware that he had been a lone champion of her most recent work, panned universally, suggesting that at the quantum level de-materialization and re-materialization, in fact, occurred all the time. And ultimately, her assertion that a naturally occurring holographic effect inherent in photons allows for any object once illuminated to have a permanent frame by frame existence, observable, if you know how to detect it.
In other words, when you look at a hologram, it is not just a three dimensional reproduction you are viewing, rather, it is an actual object that exists within a phantom super string trail of that object as it moves about. For our Dr. Kronen, knowing that the Holographic Principle is the most profound insight to the basis and new foundation for string theory, getting Dr. Davidson on board, in all actuality, was his main priority. He believed she was the only theoretical physicist alive that would condescend to even hypothetically use her expertise and talents on a subject as arcane and fantastic as teleporting vampires. And as the lecture neared its end, from the look of intrigue on the unadorned, though quite attractive face of Errin Davidson, Kronen started to feel he might get the young genius to at least examine his evidence and assumptions. 917. alistairconnor - 1/27/2009 7:33:57 PM "Iancu, I have summoned you here to offer you a difficult and dangerous mission, if you decide to accept it."
"Thank you, Master Mirca. But I am here to do your bidding without question, whatever the nature of the mission."
"Thank you for your loyalty, lad. But please listen, and reserve your response."
Hank had never been to the top-floor Boardroom before. The empty room was imposing in the darkness, with its massive table and dozen ornate, heavy chairs. The impressive effect was somewhat weakened by the banal Bay Area nightscape visible from the panoramic windows.
Here, then, was the nexus, the very soul, of the small network of Silicon Valley start-ups that constituted the Organisation. Within these walls were determined, not only the economic orientations of the all-vampire business group, but the social and political actions that defined the Organisation's aspirations to leadership in vampire affairs.
Hank had had his first summer job in the Organisation, as a trainee programmer, when he was fifteen. As a Changer, he had no need to follow that route; he could, like his father, become an ordinary "good citizen", seamlessly integrated into American society. Probably it was loyalty to his mother, Coffed all day, a prisoner in their suburban house, that fuelled his adhesion to the Organisation, and made him passionate about the Mission : Vampire Liberation.
"Iancu, the Board is aware of your prowess : in technology, in traditional lore, and in the arts of ... proactive self-defense. Your are the cream of the crop, Iancu, the best of your generation. We expect great things of you. And I will not hide anything from you : this mission will be a test, not of your abilities, of which we have no doubt... but of your loyalty to the Organisation, and to our Higher Cause."
Hank knew that Master Mirca was one of a minority of "ordinary" vampires on the Board. Inevitably, the Changers and Perps, those who could freely navigate between the two worlds, were at an advantage in business experience, and in money matters. Despite the egalitarian priciples and social vocation of the Organisation, it surely rankled that the others were largely confined to subsidiary, technical roles. But the Organisation gave them such freedom, compared to their exceedingly limited opportunities in the outside world, that the "Coffers" (as some Changers and Perps disparagingly referred to them) were, without exception, fanatically devoted to the Organisation. And, by the same token, always inclined to doubt the loyalty of their Changer and Perp comrades.
"No, don't protest, Iancu. Listen. A renegade vampire has misused one of the Organisation's secret technologies. For the Higher Cause, it is essential that we keep the technology secret, and that we retain a monopoly over it. The acts of this renegade has imperilled the Organisation's very existence. To say nothing of the patent violations." 918. alistairconnor - 1/27/2009 7:36:17 PM Hank guessed that he was talking about the Teleportation technology. He knew that it was the brainchild of Master Mirka himself, or Mark Davidson, as he was known to the wider world (or more accurately, to that select circle of nuclear physicists who were aware of the work of the brilliant, secretive researcher).
"The mission is limpid in its simplicity, my boy." (Hank kept just enough ironic distance to laugh inwardly at the florid pomposity of the vampire in full flight; but at the same time, he was genuinely thrilled, caught in the moment.) "You are to track down the renegade and kill ... her."
"I will eliminate the renegade woman, Master Mirca."
"To be more precise : the renegade girl. The subject is seventeen years old. Some on the Board objected that you might fall in love with the girl, and turn renegade yourself! What do you think of that, Iancu?"
"Ridiculous, Master. I serve a Higher Cause, and the decision of the Board is absolute." His heart was racing.
"Good, Iancu, good... You know, of course, that should such an absurdly romantic thing occur, I would be obliged to track you both down and eliminate you myself."
Hank's blood ran cold. It was no empty threat : Mirca was the absolute master of their "proactive self-defense" training, a veritable killing machine. He realised then that Mirca envied and hated him, and had put him up to an impossible dilemma in order to destroy him.
Three options :
Track down this girl and kill her (Mirca clearly didn't think him capable of it).
Go renegade, with or without the girl. And they would both die.
Or turn down the mission. And lose the confidence of the Board, of the Organisation. 919. alistairconnor - 1/28/2009 8:03:30 PM While waiting for the bus, Courtney noticed a shop on the other side of the street, called "Pompes Funèbres Générales".
She spent several minutes looking wistfully at the window displays. Almost drooling, to be honest. People passing by started giving her funny looks. But then her bus arrived.
Her mother had told her off, of course. Not for being on her own in Europe without authorisation -- that was just a prank -- but for using powerful vampire lore. She had sounded very scared indeed to Courtney, and wouldn't explain why. She had absolutely forbidden any repeat attempt at the teleportation trick.
"Well, what about this guy, Alistair? Is he reliable? He's Ruth's brother, right?"
"Yes, he's OK - a bit whack, but ... well, Ruth trusts him and all."
"Then you'll just have to throw yourself on his mercy. Turn up on his doorstep and tell him some bullshit story about a ski holiday that went wrong. The hardest part will be getting a coffin. My poor darling, you must be feeling awful..."
During the journey, she started getting alarmed that they weren't getting very close to her destination... She asked the driver, in attempted French, which stop would be the closest to Marcenod.
He answered in bad English (but better than her French) : "That last one, I think. About ten kilometers. But I'm going there myself after work, I can take you."
At last, a break, she thought. Unless he's a creep? 920. NuPlanetOne - 1/29/2009 2:50:14 AM alistair,
Nice work. You're 'write on the fly' ability is becoming quite impressive! I love the valley girl vamp angle, it will allow for some super-slayer-like girl type options, and I already get a sense that Courtney will be on the good side of the dark side of the plot. Is your Mr. Davidson and my Ms. Davidson a coincidental naming? Or do you have a plan there? When you take your next break from scribbling refer back to the present scene in the underground meeting and Jen or I will wrap up and tie in the lecture to the narrative. Carry on! 921. alistairconnor - 1/29/2009 8:19:26 PM When Hank came back the next day to pick up his equipment for the assignment, he was received by another Board member, a Perp, Peter Brown.
"This laptop, Iancu, looks like an ordinary Dell. And it functions like one too, well-loaded -- roaming internet, GPS, and so on -- but most of the electronics in the case is in fact a miniaturised directional vampire detector. It only has a range of about ten miles, but the software integrates with Google maps, so once you are in the area, you should easily be able to target your subject."
Hank booted up the computer. Nothing to distinguish it from an ordinary one... "Yes, it will fool airport security easily enough", said Brown.
Airport security? Hank had hoped -- naively, he now realised -- that they would allow him to teleport. But no, here were his tickets to Lyon, via London.
The portable coffin was pretty cool too. Quite heavy, and it filled most of his backpack, but the hinged, bevelled panels snapped together in seconds, and the solidity and comfort were astounding.
The weapons and accessories were also of the finest quality.
"Er - Master Petru? I see I have one week in Lyon, to accomplish my mission. But then, one week in London on the way back?"
"Ah, yes, you have a second mission in England : to eliminate a nuclear physicist, a certain Dr Errin Davidson. She has been getting too close to certain domains on which we intend to enforce an effective monopoly."
"But Master Mirca did not mention this second mission?"
"The Board decided to exclude Mark from this particular decision, because of a potential for conflict of interest. Dr Davidson is a non-vampire, but nevertheless his sister." 922. alistairConnor - 1/31/2009 12:00:43 AM After the phone call to Dumitra, they couldn't leave Sorin on his own. Some old bottles were cleared out from the back of the drinks cabinet, and significant bonding occurred.
Alistair was of the opinion that he should go and get her -- drag her by the hair, if necessary; kicking and screaming, preferably; back to France. On the basis that she, at least, didn't believe in vampires, and was therefore the only sane person they had been in touch with all day.
Halima was more pragmatic. "Crystal meth is a bitch. Not impossible to break away from, but really really hard. Requires lots of motivation, and preferably a clean break from the old environment. We can look after her while she dries out, if she wants to. But can she get a job here, Sorin?"
"The French hospital system is very hard to break into, for foreign doctors. It might take us a long time to get her a job. I'm not sure she would be motivated enough to wait."
"What about the vampire-hunting business?" said Alistair, serving another round. "Is there any money in that?" 923. Jenerator - 1/31/2009 4:18:06 PM (I have some serious catching up to do!)
|
 |
Go To Mote #
|
|
