Maxim Darko: The Greatest Gift of Evil. A Vampire Chronicle

BOOK FOUR EUROPE 2017

Chapter Twenty Four

The Hunt Resumes

During the middle of the night in Istanbul, the buzzing satellite phone on Mustafa's bedside table woke him. "Can't you ever turn that thing off?" His groggy wife Mary asked.

Although he dearly loved his wife, Mustafa ignored her complaints. The SAT phone was by his side, day and night. It was his lifeline. He gently laid a hand on her hip, and cooed, "Go back to sleep my love." Before rising from their bed, Mustafa kissed her flawless cheek. He carried his phone outside to the balcony, where he opened the message.

The text message on his phone was very brief, but in no way cryptic. He is here. The powerful one is here. Please send help. ABMCND

As the cool evening air cleared his head, Mustafa chuckled, even after all these years of working together, he held no love for the Church. The Archbishop Marius of the Cathedral of Notre Dame, is normally a very calm man. But at the moment, he is much panicked. Mustafa thought as he lit a cigar. Leaning on the railing, he stared up into the clear night, and began to devise a plan to capture Maxim. The cherub of his cigar softly crackled and hissed in the darkness.

After a considerable amount of time, Mustafa took a last puff on his cigar, before off-handedly tossing the butt into the yard below. His servants would pick it up in the morning. He comfortably situated his large body into a lounge chair and removed an Italian lemon soda from a small refrigerator on the balcony. He popped open the soda top, and then began furiously typing a message for Ciril into his SAT phone.

The one you lost is in Luxembourg. Another dead vampire is worthless to me. Bring him to me alive. He will sustain us for centuries. See ABMCND ASAP. Afterwards, contact me for further guidance.

Following a quick proofread of his message, Mustafa punched the glowing encryption button, and then depressed the send button. In a nano-second, the message shot into outer space, bounced off a satellite, and sped towards Germany. A second message, sent to Luxembourg, followed shortly thereafter.

In an ancient farm house situated along a deserted section of the Main River, Ciril's SAT phone vibrated. Ciril rolled over on his straw mattress and picked up the phone. The encryption button glowed green. He forcefully punched the button and read the message. By the time he finished reading, Ahad was already leaning over his shoulder. Ciril held the phone up so Ahad could read the text. "We must move out Father," Ahad stated with urgency.

Ciril looked at his Son, and loudly laughed. Ahad grew red in the face from anger. "You look no better than me Father!"

Ciril rubbed his own newly shaven head, and then ran his hand over Ahad's smooth face. "You are correct my Son! We are both ugly." Ciril picked up a half-full glass of dark-brown alt beer sitting on the floor next to his mattress and finished it in one gulp. He rose and slapped Ahad on the shoulder, "Let's gather our gear, and move out." Ahad moved to his rucksack in a corner. "Just a moment my Son."

Ahad had fire in his eyes. Every ounce of his body was anxious to move out. With a deliberate patience, he asked, "What is it Father?"

"We must keep Maxim alive..."

Ahad impatiently nodded his understanding. "I know this Father." He shouldered his ruck and picked up a heavy black plastic Pelican case. "Can we go to the boat now?"

Ciril smiled and wondered when his Son would learn patience. Who else could possess such a lack of patience, besides my own blood?

"And we must not lose his trail. I hope the Archbishop has something for us to go on. Maxim should be alone...and afraid."

"I agree Father. We decimated his support cell in Albuquerque." Ahad charged out of the door.

Ciril followed Ahad down to the river, where Ahad tore a canvas cover off a hidden boat. Both men dragged the boat into the water. With one pull on the rope, Ahad started the powerful fifty-horsepower outboard motor. The boat sped into the thick fog blanketing the river. Ahad's face was illuminated by a dim green glow from a handheld GPS screen as he steered the boat. For several dozen miles, Ahad pushed the motor hard, cutting through the thick fog at breathtaking speed. Turns appeared out of nowhere, due to the limited visibility caused by the fog. Ahad easily navigated the turns with the use of the GPS moving map, and from memory. He had conducted hours of map study in the farm house and memorized the river for a hundred miles in both directions.

Ahad twisted the throttle down, and the boat slowed. The motor's roar dropped several octaves to a mild purr. Before running the boat ashore, he eased it into a deeply wooded side creek. Father, and Son jumped ashore with their gear. They ran through the forest until they came to a muddy, leaf covered two-track road. After jogging down the road for a kilometer, a non-descript white delivery truck materialized in the fog before them. Without a word to the driver, they slipped into the back of the truck. Ciril pounded an open palm on the back of the cab. The driver put the truck in gear and drove towards Luxembourg.

Ciril checked the GPS on his Tactix Garmen watch. Because of the watches' usefulness, it was one of the small luxuries he allowed himself. "Our ETA is in two hours at zero-nine-hundred hours." He smiled wryly. "Perfect timing. Our little vampire will be sleeping."

Ahad didn't answer. His head lolled side-to-side in rhythm with the truck. Years of experience had taught him to sleep before an operation. Prior to closing his own eyes, Ciril proudly smiled at his sleeping Son.