Chapter 17.

L. A. SEWER SYSTEM

SEPT. 25, 1999

(8:07 P.M./PST)

Spike looked at his stolen Rolex watch.

"Where the sod are they? It's been five hours since they broke off the attack!"

Billy Fordham shrugged. "Maybe they're hiding out until they're sure you've calmed down. You are kind of notorious for holding grudges!"

"Well, I certainly don't calm down after counting to ten, if that's what you sodding mean," Spike countered. "And, if I wasn't gonna give them Final Death, already, this little bit of sodding hooky would definitely earn it for them!"

"Good help is so hard to fine, these days. Isn't it?"

The two vampires suddenly put on their game faces as they both "heard" that telepathic voice.

"Who's there?" demanded Spike. "Show yourselves!"

Whereupon, a giant Ratkin rose up out of the darkness. . .and clamped its jaws down upon Billy's head.

"A-R-R-R-R-R-G. . .!"

CRUNCH!

"Sod me! ! !" muttered Spike under his breath,

Whereupon, he wisely chose the better part of valor. And ran for it.

LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

(11:08 P.M./PST)

Carter Burgess, Junior- -a full colonel with the USMC, currently serving as DIA/CIA liaison officer- -was just going home for the day when his pocket pager started beeping. Sighing with frustration, he looked at the caller ID, before reluctantly sitting back down before his desk.* But, his mind immediately jumped to attention when he heard- -and recognized- -the voice at the other end of the call.

"Sir! Yes, sir; I recognize your voice. What can I do for you, sir?"

Burgess paused as he listened to the reply.

"May I ask how you learned that, sir?"

Another pause.

"Very well, sir! If that's the only way we can do this, I'll contact the asset, immediately. He'll be waiting for the detectives, tomorrow."

LOS ANGELES SEWERS

SEPTEMER. 26, 1999

(51 MINUES)

Vanessa Helsing had been stalking through the storm drain tunnels for over four hours, now. Yet, just as she was about to give it up for the night, her superhuman nose picked up a familiar scent. The Ratkin Abomination had come this way, all right! But, exactly how much earlier, was still anybody's guess. Then, suddenly, she picked up two other scents.

And, they were headed in the same direction as the Abomination!

One minute after that, she heard two voices. One of them asking after Spike and Billy. The other singing out, "Honey? We're home!"

To which she could not resist giving the response: "Sorry, boys. It's just you and me."

The acoustic properties of their underground hide-out kept Andrew and Warren from determining where that mocking reply had come from for the first few moments. Consequently, when the Doppler effect of its passage through the air hit his right ear, Warren fatefully turned to his right. . .

. . .and caught a silver cruciform shuriken right between his eyes.

The garlic juice that the razor-sharp tips had been dipped in immediately sent his vampiric body into a paralyzed state. Thereby freezing Andrew in total fear for another two seconds. Long enough for the Tenctonese Slayer to lunge forward, and jump up at both vampires, feet first! Which, in turn, sent Andrew crashing against the wall behind him, exo-skeleton and all. His unhelmeted head making painful contact with the concrete.

Warren, however, just fell flat on his back. Totally unable to issue any commands to his exo-skeleton's on-board computer. All he could do, therefore, was stare helplessly upward at the right-handed silver battleaxe that brought about his Final Death, via decapitation.

Vanessa then strode over to the stunned Andrew and held her left-handed battleaxe under his chin.

"Where's your boss? The one called Spike. Or do you want to end up like your buddy, there?"

She pointed to the pile of ash that used to be Warren Mears' head.

BUREAU OF NEWCOMER AFFAIRS,

LOS ANGELES BRANCH

SEPT. 26, 1999 (12:30 A .M./PST)

"Remind me, again, why we're doin' this?" Doyle demanded (his nervousness making his Irish brogue sound thicker than usual).

"Because, something doesn't smell right," replied Angel. "You had a vision of this Cromwell guy being attacked, here, after sunrise this morning. Yet, according to Riley's contacts, Cromwell has been wearing a custom-tailored straight jacket these last two-and-a-half years! So, which version is the truth? I intend to find out by breaking into his office, and hiding there until he shows up for work. That's assuming, of course, that he shows up, at all. Now, where's that card key?"

Two hours earlier, the duo had inquired of Clem the Kiasyd as to which one- -if any- -of his Newcomer customers worked at the BNA after hours. The latter was initially reluctant to divulge such information, because it might get him in trouble with the police. . .and thereby endanger the Masquerade. But, on being reassured that it was case-related, Clem eventually revealed that one Humphrey Dumpty "usually swings a mop there, from one to nine, every night."

"Thanks, Clem!" Angel had replied (with a very delighted grin). "I knew I could count on you. Doyle? Pay him a little something."

Doyle had handed Clem a twenty dollar bill before allowing the Kiasyd to finish closing up. Ninety minutes later, Angel and Doyle had hidden themselves in an alley, just down the street from where Humphrey Dumpty usually disembarked from the bus he customarily rode to work. When the unsuspecting Newcomer had walked by the entrance to the alley, Angel had jumped out at him from the shadows! Using his vampiric strength to pin Dumpty's arms to his side, from behind, while Doyle (wearing a brown paper bag, with eyeholes, over his head, just in case) had injected the Newcomer in the posterior.

The contents of the hypodermic needle he had used being a mixture of sour milk and pulverized sleeping pills!

They had then left him, bound-and-gagged, in the trunk of Angel's car while they drove to the street one block down from, and to the right of, the Federal Building where the BNA branch office was located. All so Angel could use the pilfered card key to enter the building undetected. . .and uninvited.

Meanwhile, at that same moment, Matt Sykes and Fred Dobbs were acting on a tip from one of Dobbs' confidential informants. Specifically, that the missing material witness they had been seeking would finally be putting in an appearance- -or, rather, a reappearance- -in the middle of her boss' magic act.

So, now, they were at the King O' Clubs. Seated at a table towards the back of the main showroom. But, with a good, wide view of the stage. Consequently, they leaned forward in anticipation when Cordelia Chase wheeled out a shopping cart with two items on top of it. A large pane of glass. . .and a fold-up stepping stool! The Newcomer magician then handed the stepping stool to Cordelia, while he removed the pane of glass.

Unfolding the aluminum device, Cordelia climbed into the shopping cart. Assuming a fetal position within it; although with some difficulty (due to the black feather in her bunned-up hair). Following which, Duncan Shane covered her with the pane of glass, and then his cape, in that order. When he had done all that, he counted backward, from three, in Tenctonese. All before removing both the cape and the pane, at the same time.

There was Syl, just as predicted. Sexy semi-tuxedo and all!

"Let's go get her!" Sykes muttered.

His African-American colleague nodded and stood up with him in perfect unison. When they got to the backstage area, however, a pair of burly Latinos were guarding the women's dressing room door.

"Sorry, guys," said the slightly taller Latino (raising his right hand, palm upward): "No autograph hounds allowed."

"The only autograph that matters, here," replied Sykes. ". . .is that of the judge who signed this material witness warrant."

His right thumb indicated the piece of paper now being held aloft by Dobbs.

"So, step aside," Sykes continued. "Or, get arrested for obstruction of justice. Your choice."

Suddenly, there was a scream from behind the dressing room door! A scream of such utter terror, the four men who had seemed to be spoiling for a fight, moments earlier, rallied together in breaking down the door; their respective guns drawn. But, the sight that instantly met their eyes, inside, made them halt in their tracks with open-mouthed shock.

They saw a giant black rat and a Billy Idol impersonator with fangs snarling at each other. While lying in between them, in a dead faint, was Cordelia.

tbc

*DIA: Defense Intelligence Agency