The Last Vampire

Chapter 1 Louis Armstrong International Airport, New Orleans, 2010 The white airline catering van lurched to a stop. Captain Scott Boulder crouched in the dim, hot cargo area behind the driver's seat with the three other members of his assault team. They wore black tactical hoods, fatigues, Kevlar vests, and combat boots, and carried MP5s and flexicuffs. The bare minimum so they could move. Fast. Scott spoke into his headset, "Team Ultra to base. We've reached the target." "We read you, Team Ultra," came the crackling reply. "Spotter reports four, repeat, four hijackers aboard the aircraft." Men of unknown nationality had hijacked an Airbus A320 on the ground and demanded the release of military prisoners from Guantanamo Bay. How the assholes got AK-47s and grenades on board was anybody's guess. Officials had three hours to meet their demands or the hijackers would start killing a passenger every fifteen minutes. The U.S. government didn't negotiate with terrorists, at least not directly. More often than not, they sent a team like Boulder's to do the "talking" for them, to fight fire with fire. In a situation like this, it was the only realistic response. "Where are the hijackers now?" Scott asked into his headset. There was a pause before the answer came back. "Locations remain unchanged. One in the cockpit. Two in the forward galley beyond the main door. Another in the passenger cabin. Execute in thirty seconds." "Thirty seconds, on your mark," Scott said into the headset, and felt a deep weariness in his muscles, his bones. He'd seen many people die at the hands of fanatics like these. Too fucking many. Innocent civilians and men he'd served with . . . their bodies torn apart by bullets and bombs, their families left behind to suffer. He'd proudly protected his country for the past eighteen years, but lately he felt like he was drowning in blood. He should have quit months ago when he'd had the chance, but he'd enlisted for one more tour of duty. And now he had to live with that decision. Scott forced himself to concentrate. He didn't have the luxury to indulge his fatigue. As always, success today would depend on control . . . on his controlling the team, and on the team wresting control from the hijackers. The latter wouldn't be easy. Airplane incursions were a tactical nightmare. You had tight quarters, sharp corners, interrupted lines of sight. Not to mention every row of seats was a potential barricade for the bad guys to hide behind. It didn't help that his team had been assembled only six weeks ago. They'd been successful thus far, but lacked the cohesion of a team that had spent real time together in the field. Then again, they had a few tricks up their sleeves that other teams didn't. "Let's do this by the numbers," Scott said. The two men across from him nodded to indicate they understood. Scott traded places with them, positioning himself in front of the van's sliding door and gripping the handle, ready to throw it open when the time came. If the hijackers expected water and peanuts from this catering van, they were in for one hell of a surprise. Scott glanced at the third man on his right, who was making a last-minute adjustment to his gear. "You okay?" "Yeah." "Sure about that?" The man glared, amber eyes flashing. "I said I was." Scott wasn't convinced. Eric had been acting strangely these past few days. Distracted, contentious. This was just more of tPaoletti, Marc is the author of 'The Last Vampire' with ISBN 9780345501042 and ISBN 0345501047.