Jonathan Bond - The Terminus experiment

Marco shook his head. “If you have proven anything in the last twenty-four hours, it is that you cannot be trusted where your son is concerned. No, you will remain here for the duration.”

Julius let his head fall forward again. hiding the small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I accept the wisdom of what you’re saying, though my heart doesn’t agree.”

“Sir,” said Peter. “We had better be going if we’re going to keep to our schedule.”

Julius felt Biggs’ hand tighten on his arm, and he looked up. Marco waved to Peter, who rolled his chair forward. As they approached, Julius asked, “While you’re away, who’s going to take care of business?”

Marco smiled, showing his black gums. “That’s the Julius I know. Don’t worry. Everything has been taken care of. All current contracts can be handled by staff. You just rest, and know that your son will be back soon.”

With that, Marco was past him.

Julius looked at Peter, young, dark-haired, and pretty in a masculine sort of way. Peter shot a glance at Julius, and that look was so full of terror that Julius felt his heart break. He knew the poor kid probably wouldn’t be alive for more than another hour, and he sensed that Peter had come to the same conclusion. Still, there was nothing he could do about it.

Then they were out the door and into the sunshine. The last sight of Peter that Julius ever got was of the young mall extending the wide black umbrella and then attaching it to the chair. The light was too strong for Marco to face directly.

Biggs closed the door behind them.

“This way,” he said, staying in character. Julius had told him that Marco’s senses were heightened beyond belief, so they had agreed to continue until ten minutes after Marco’s car had left the drive.

Biggs guided Julius to his room on the second floor, then stood by the door as Julius went to check the window. Julius watched as the modified Rolls Royce pulled down the drive and out the gate.

A wave of bone-heavy anger stormed through Julius as he stepped over to the bed and sat down on it.

Biggs looked at his wrist chronometer, then pulled a small black box from his suit pocket. The box was twenty centimeters square and it had a simple switch on the top, just to the side of a small red light.

Biggs set the box on the small, intricately carved table and flipped the switch. For a moment, nothing happened, and then the red light blinked twice. Julius looked up as Riggs said softly, “Room’s clear.”

Julius nodded, and went back to waiting. At exactly ten minutes, Biggs looked over at him and smiled. “Time.”

Julius pulled a small portacom from his pocket and tapped in a series of numbers he’d been given by the decker-boy the shadowrunners called Sandman.

There were two clicks as the signal was bounced from host host, then the call connected.

Killian’s voice came through strong and without delay. “Yes?”

Julius smiled. “Elvis has left the building. Begin Operation Dracula.”

With those words, Julius was setting two events in motion. One was the legal proceeding that would finally give him sole control of Fratellanza, Inc. The other was the assault that would be his last chance to get Warren back before his son was changed into a vampire.

The assistant, the one called Pakow, watched emotionlessly as Marco drained the last of the blood from Peter’s body, letting the limp thing, which only moments before had been so full of life, fall to the floor of the loading dock.

His hunger sated, Marco straightened painfully and looked at the small man and grinned. “I’m ready, now. So if you’ll be so good as to have this mess cleaned up, we can go.”

The man called Pakow nodded curtly. “If you’ll just follow me, your room is prepared.” He gestured vaguely at the mess “I’ll have this taken care of.”

Sitting back down in his wheelchair, Marco nodded, then waited until the man took the hint. Coming up behind Marco Pakow pushed his chair into the building.

“Where is Doctor Wake?” Marco demanded. “I had expected him to meet me when I arrived.”

“He’s resting.” Pakow said. “He needs to gather his strength for the last part of the procedure on your nephew. It takes quite a bit out of him. Though I’m not totally versed in these matters, I understand that the magical aspects of the procedure are some of the most extreme to be found in the field of the arcane.”

Marco grunted his understanding. “How is it going? Have there been any complications?”

There was a short pause, then Pakow said. “As far as I know, everything is progressing beyond Doctor Wakes expectations. We’re using the latest strain of the virus on your nephew, and initial testing shows an unprecedented breakthrough.”

Marco twisted slowly in his chair, feeling his spine crackle with the effort. “How so? I thought that with Derek we had reached a pinnacle of sorts.”

Pakow’s face broke into a tight smile. “Hardly. After all, your son suffered many of the same unpredictable reactions as you have from the procedure. Your nephew has benefited from being the recipient of a strain that should leave his melatonin levels intact.”

For just a moment, Marco couldn’t believe his ears. “You mean that…”

Pakow nodded, and turned the corner of the hall, passing a work station on the left. “Yes. If all continues according to plan, your nephew will never have to worry about applying make-up. He will look normal in all aspects. Well, skin-related aspects, at least. He will still have to wear contacts to provide any sort of eye pigmentation, but I think that is a small price to pay, considering.”

Marco couldn’t help the huge grin spreading over his face.

“That is far beyond what I had hoped for. Your Doctor Wake is a miracle worker.”

Pakow didn’t answer, but Marco hardly noticed. He was dazzled by the possibilities this news offered.

They arrived at an open doorway near the end of the hall.

“This will be your room” Pakow told him.

Marco looked around as Pakow wheeled him inside. The room was huge, nearly twenty meters square. The walls were covered with small white tiles that glittered softly in the indirect light.

In the center of the room stood a bed, with what looked like an oxygen tent over one end. There were straps on all sides, though they’d been pulled back and tied down to the thick metal legs that supported the large expanse of sleep area.

A bank of monitors rested just to the side of the bed, and Marco could see robotic auto-injectors on the other side.

“Where’s my telecom?” he said.

The question obviously took Pakow by surprise, because the confusion on his face was genuine.

“My damn telecom. One of the reasons I agreed to come in was that Wake promised me I could communicate with my nephew when he returned to the outside world.”

The baffled expression on Pakow’s face made Marco want to rip the flesh from his skull, but he refrained.

“I apologize, Mister D’imato. I can only assume that Doctor Wake might have thought you would be bringing your own compact unit along. Still, I don’t see that it will be a problem. I’ll see to it personally.” The man paused, looking a bit apprehensive. If you’ll forgive me for saying so, I’m not sure you fully understand the nature of this procedure.”