“So,” he said with resolve, “we’re leaving tonight. I take it we’ll be briefed—”
“Every file from every country will be sent to your inboxes immediately. Along with connections here in the home office for any help you need, and bios on the members of European law enforcement you’ll be involved with. We will be planning a larger team, of course, but this came up suddenly. And they need our help. Also, one of the officials in Norway has a suspicion the Vampire might well be an American.”
“American?” Mason said, surprised. “I understand there were similar killings here that might have been this killer’s start-up. But now, the display of the killings has apparently stretched from country to county. Maybe he’s gotten it all right where he wants it to be, but these killings have been in Europe—”
“I think, in the killer’s mind, the killings have been perfected in Europe,” Jackson said. “I believe the killer’s practices were here in America. I have been involved in this for a long time, and I consider it an educated theory. You’ll find everything you need will be sent to you, every piece of information or even supposition that we have. I’ve done all the reading on this and, trust me, there’s plenty of reading material for a long flight.”
Mason nodded.
“All right. So, tonight. When and how do we leave?”
“Private jet, Krewe jet,” Adam told him. The older man shrugged. “I’ve been lucky in life. The plane is my gift to special agents who are...special.”
“I’m packed and ready,” Della said. She looked at Mason.
“I’ve been living out of a suitcase here in New Orleans. I’ll get my things from the hotel.”
“We’ll meet up at Louis Armstrong International,” Della said, rising. She nodded to Jackson and Adam. “I know we’ll have cooperation, and I truly hope we’ll do the Bureau proud.”
“I know you will,” Jackson said.
* * *
It took Mason less than fifteen minutes to collect his belongings from the hotel. The drive to the airport where he returned his rental car took another forty-five. He met up with Della Hamilton at the coffee bar in the terminal.
“You’re here,” she said.
“Of course, I’m here. I said I would be.”
“But you don’t seem pleased with the assignment.”
“Oh, you’re wrong,” he said. “I’m just enthralled.”
“You’re just enthralled,” Della murmured. “Strange choice of words.”
“I was obviously being sarcastic,” Mason told her dryly.
“I didn’t miss your tone,” she assured him. “It’s just that we’re headed for Norway. The word enthralled comes from thrall—which is what the Norse called the human beings they enslaved. People tend to think the Vikings were after gold and jewels—and they were, but they were also slave traders. They needed slaves to build their ships and sew their sails and work the land when it was workable, but they also found great wealth in the slave trade.” She paused, shaking her head. “Humanity hasn’t changed. Of course, it wasn’t just the Vikings. The Romans were big on enslaving conquered people, and so on throughout history. And still, though we try to stop it, there are still some places today that enslave others. Anyway, the conquerors could be cruel. Some of the sagas that were written in Iceland in the fourteenth century portray the invaders as great heroes—and the thralls as dull and stupid creatures who needed owners since they were fit for little more than slavery. They’ve found iron collars and chains in archaeological digs, proof of man’s treatment of man, or in slavery, more of woman. But anyway, being enthralled means you’re basically enslaved by someone or something.”
“Woah!” Mason said. “Woah, so, I’m traveling with a walking encyclopedia! But, hmm, you are hard on those people. Are you sure you should be going to Norway?”
She shook her head impatiently. “I hardly blame anyone today for the Viking age. It ended a long, long time ago. We call the Dark Ages the Dark Ages because that’s what they were—dark. Torture chambers abounded! Oh, and I love Norway and the Norwegian people. My maternal grandparents were born there.”
“Ah, that’s why they’re sending you,” he said. “You know the terrain?”
“Hopefully, they’re sending me because I’m a competent agent, capable of rolling with whatever comes up. And yes, I know some of the terrain, of course. We traveled fairly frequently when I was a kid.”
“Rich kid?”
She shook her head. “My parents just knew how to make travel with the family into both a fun and profitable event. My mother was an artist and my father was a great marketer—he found buyers for her work all over in ad campaigns and the like. So yes, I know and love Norway.”
“And the Bureau?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I was majoring in criminology when an old friend suggested I use everything I have to get bad guys. I went into the academy straight from college.”
“A dead friend?” he asked quietly.
“Yes, a dead friend. You?”
“College, the military, more college, the academy. Oh, and on the enthralled—maybe I said it just right. I get the feeling you’re something like me.”
“Oh, I doubt that! And why—”
“Because work became your life at some point. Basically, we’re slaves to it.”
Della shook her head. “Not true. Or I don’t see it that way. I’m still dedicated. I believe in what we’re doing, and the fact we can get help sometimes from those who are gone—that not everyone can—is amazing. Don’t you believe in what we’re doing?”
Mason hesitated. “Yes, of course. Okay, honestly? I just... I don’t want to kill anymore. Maybe what I thought I needed was a breather. Not that I would have preferred to have been killed myself, I mean...” He paused. He barely knew Della Hamilton, and he wasn’t really ready to pour his heart out to her. But...
“Seeing so much death,” he continued, “I’ve gained a marked appreciation for life. I have never killed in any circumstance in which I wasn’t being shot at myself or in a situation in which it was necessary to protect another—an innocent, someone stunned and terrified to suddenly find themselves the target of a killer, or in the middle of a crime, war, or violence. But I wish I was better at...negotiating! Getting people to surrender. I... No matter what, it still takes something out of you when you take a human life.”
“Yes, I agree,” she said, “and everyone hopes to bring a suspect in alive because our job is to uphold the law while judges and juries do the rest. I understand how you feel. I was told you were a good guy. You are. No one wants to kill, Mason. But sometimes, negotiation doesn’t work, and we must care about the victim first. Negotiation is great, but when there is no choice... Well. And honestly, I guess you haven’t had much chance to read about this Vampire yet, but... Mason, he’s a truly terrifying figure. And if he has others joining his ranks... Mason, you do know there are groups of people across the world, I believe—I know of a few in the States—who call themselves vampires, right? Some just meet and drink one another’s blood. Some say they are spiritual vampires, and claim it’s in a good way—they can gain kindness from others and all that. But...if this guy really thinks he’s a vampire, we may be looking at worse things to come. At one time, people believed in blood-sucking vampires—diseases that destroyed the blood caused that kind of theory. In the 1800s, even in the United States, people dug up their loved ones to stake them through the heart or burn their hearts, afraid they were coming back to drink their blood when in truth, the disease was just spreading. But—”