Savage, Inc.

By Mark D. Gallant

The vampire Viktor Savage has been acquitted of murder, but that hasn't stopped him from taking revenge against the two men responsible for his incarceration... Brady Rizzatto and Jake Donovan.

In an attempt to escape the crosshairs, Station 12's finest choose to bring the fight to Savage. However, tracking the vampire doesn't prove easy, as danger lurks at every turn. Brady and Jake are forced into a game of cat-and-mouse with Savage's cohorts, and in a stunning turn of events, Brady is brought face to face with his deadliest enemy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 8, 2007
• ISBN: 9781467095648

Mark D. Gallant

Mark D. Gallant was born and raised in the Bay State. Highly influenced by ’80s pop culture, he found an interest in storytelling, primarily through visual media. He drew comics and made movies throughout his teenage years, and ultimately decided to go to film school. He spent ten years as an independent filmmaker before turning his attention to writing. He spends his days wearing many hats—a cog in the corporate machine, writer, and most importantly, husband and father.

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2007, 2014 Mark D. Gallant. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 02/07/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4343-1800-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4670-9564-8 (e)

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

EPILOGUE:

For Mary.

My Everything.

CHAPTER ONE

THE NEWBIE

Monday afternoon.

3:57 PM.

Station 12.

My name’s Ian Coltrane.

People call me Colt.

Today begins the first day of the rest of my life. Kinda funny that it’s starting at four o’clock in the afternoon, but that’s what happens when you work for the F.A.P.A. That’s right, the F.A.P.A…. the Federal Authority for Paranormal Activities. Got the offer letter last week. Have to say, I’m pretty psyched. I’ve waited two years for this opportunity… although technically my journey began four years ago at the FBI Training Academy in Quantico. High marks and sharp instincts brought me plenty of attention from my instructors, which helped qualify me for the FBI’s special operations program. This was my first exposure to the F.A.P.A., and the interview and screening process for this curriculum was grueling. But I found the courses stimulating, and I knew this area of study was definitely for me.

Being a New England native, I spent my final two semesters studying under Kane Fergus at Station 12’s educational facilities. It’s been two months since I completed my coursework and obtained the required number of credits for graduation, so getting hired this soon after was the last thing I expected. I’ve been told there’s a lengthy waiting list for this gig, which makes me think that someone pulled some strings to get me in. I’m not complaining. Believe me.

I suppose I must’ve made an impression to garner this sort of recognition. I worked hard, no doubt about it. But I was nervous… actually a little scared. Not so much at the task at hand, but at the notion I had to live up to high expectations. I had a terrible fear of failure, and I didn’t want to let anyone down. It was important for me to be accepted for who I was and what I was capable of accomplishing. I didn’t want to be in a situation where I felt like I was being done a favor.

So I had to stay sharp and get off on the right foot. I was told to report to Station 12 at 4:00 PM for orientation, so here I was. Getting through the main gate was easier than I thought. The security officer said they were expecting me, so he verified my identity against my driver’s license then let me pass. I found a parking spot near the main entrance, which wasn’t unusual for this time of day considering a bulk of the agents worked the night shift anyway. I wouldn’t see them for at least a couple of hours.

I got out of my car and walked past the circular drive in front of the large yellow building that once served as an elementary school many years ago. The exterior was still in its original form, although it had seen many a paint job since it was first constructed, yet the interior had seen numerous renovations. The yellow structure branched off into two separate wings, both made of brick, while a third extension bridged the right wing with the rear parking lot. Opposite that portion of the building on the far side of the lot were the garage bays, which led to a sub-level basement facility. Down there one would find company vehicles, the weapons armory, and the detention center. The place was like a dungeon, but it had flair nonetheless.

I walked in through the main door, which I had done numerous times before, but this was the first time as a bonafide agent. There was a staircase to my left which led to the education department upstairs. Honestly, I think I’d miss Kane’s lectures. I learned a lot from him.

There was a second set of stairs… not a full staircase, only five stairs that brought me into the first floor lobby. To my right was a security checkpoint. This door led to the operations area of the department. This was the entrance I’d be using from here on out, but since entry required a code clearance identification card, and I hadn’t received mine yet, I had no access. But that was the reason I was here so early. Orientation. I had to meet with Human Resources and get all the nitty gritty squared away.

So I walked past the security checkpoint towards another door on the far side of the lobby. I was buzzed in, then navigated a series of small hallways until I found the HR rep I was scheduled to meet. She took me to a quaint little conference room and presented me with a stack of papers I was required to fill out. She took the time to go over each of them, then left me on my own to complete them. There was a W-4 tax form I had to fill out, and this confused the heck out of me. Sure, I’ve filled them out for other jobs, but the instructions always seemed to throw me for a loop. Basically, I had no dependents, so I wanted the government to withhold as much as possible so I didn’t have to owe anything come spring. One time I screwed that up, claiming myself as a dependent, and then I had to go back and change it. It was nice to get a little extra in my paycheck at the time, but I knew I’d be depressed if I had to cut a check to the IRS later on. Luckily, I got it right this time.

Then there were a bunch of confidentiality and non-disclosure agreements I had to sign. Since I was the type to always read before I signed, this took an awfully long time to complete. But this type of paperwork was expected with Special-Ops. In fact, the background check they did on me was pretty thorough. They interviewed my family, my neighbors, former employers, ex-girlfriends… basically everyone I knew. It was amazing. I sort of felt violated. But I wasn’t about to complain. I really wanted this job and was extremely happy to be here.

All in all, it took me almost two hours to finish everything. During that time my security clearance was being processed, and once that was done, I was taken to another room to have my picture taken. This photo would appear on my identification cards. I had to have my picture taken twice. The first time I didn’t smile and it looked like a mug shot. The second time I smiled a little too much, but I wasn’t about to have them redo it again. I wasn’t that vain. Although the lighting wasn’t that good either, and I felt the photo was a little dark. Whatever.

I was given two identification cards. One was for access to Station 12. It had my picture on it and read ‘FBI, Special Operations.’ It was very discreet. The other card was for public identification. It too, was discreet, at least in regards to the F.A.P.A., but it contained much more information concerning my employment and status within the ranks of the ‘FBI.’ It also came with a black leather flip wallet so I could flash my badge just like they did in the movies. Ian Coltrane… FBI.

At roughly 6:15 PM I was joined by Bret Phelan, my new boss. He was the Assistant Director of the Undead Division which I’d be working. The Undead Division specialized in vampires, zombies, and ghouls. It was a good department to be involved with, and there was a long and storied history behind it too. In fact, it was a vampire that gave birth to the F.A.P.A. in the first place. The organization was founded back in the 1940’s by the Justice Department and was commissioned to investigate and contain any and all activities pertaining to the paranormal. The F.A.P.A. has since grown in size and responsibility, and operates thirteen stations scattered across the United States.

In addition to the Undead Division, there was the Lycanthrope/Wild Beasts Division. This was by far the most prestigious division to work for, primarily because of the danger involved. This group had a high casualty rate, and signing up for this gig usually meant you had a death wish. But the benefits were good. You got paid more than any other division, and you had access to weaponry that other divisions didn’t. Also, the training was more intense, so you had to be physically fit to be a member of this outfit. If you were fortunate enough to survive, the job paid great dividends.

Rounding out the department were the Black Magic Division and the Apparitions Division. The BMD focused on witches, warlocks, satanic cults, and anyone else practicing the dark arts. The Apparitions Division dealt with ghosts and spirits and stuff like that. I found this rather intriguing, considering I had never seen a ghost, and was curious to learn a little more about this profession. I had seen ghost hunters on television before, but it was always hard to decipher between what was real and what was scripted. I suppose I wasn’t a true believer, but was willing to keep an open mind.

So Bret Phelan greeted me and asked me how things were going and I told him everything was great. Phelan was a good guy, and his reputation as one of the best Station 12 had to offer preceded him. I had the pleasure of meeting him a couple of times during my tenure as a cadet, and even served under him in the field managing crowd control. He was one class act and a great leader. He reminded me of Major Winters from the miniseries Band of Brothers (played superbly by the actor Damian Lewis). He was always in control… and if by chance he lost control of a situation, he never let it show.

Phelan and I left Human Resources and proceeded to the security checkpoint. He had me test out my badge to make sure it worked, and indeed it did, so we passed through the open door into a long corridor. There was nothing in this hall except for some blinding fluorescents overhead. There were no doors or rooms connected off this hall, or anything of the sort. It was simply a long hallway. We turned the corner to the left and traveled down another lengthy corridor until we came to a second checkpoint. Phelan greeted the security guard and introduced me, then I used my badge again so we could gain access to the operations area. This was the heart of Station 12.

It wasn’t the first time I had been down here. All of the cadets were given a brief tour of the facility prior to graduation. Of course that was a supervised visit, but now I had free reign to travel these hallowed halls on my own. Phelan was kind enough to show me around again, which was standard procedure anyway, but he was careful to point out everything I’d need to know to get by. And I appreciated it. I’m sure he had a million other things to do, yet he seemed pretty enthusiastic in explaining procedures, policies, and other department regulations. He took me down Management Row, which was the nickname given to the string of offices occupied by the Assistant Directors. We stopped in at Phelan’s office where he filled me in on some additional info.

Director Hammond is big on chain of command, he said. All issues and concerns should be brought to your CFA, but don’t let that stop you from comin’ by to chat. My door’s always open. But I’ll tell ya this… be sensitive to Dillon’s position of authority. If you have a problem, take it up with him. Don’t go around him to get to me unless you absolutely have to. He’s got a bit of an ego, to say the least. And he has Hammond’s ear, so try to stay on his good side. I’m not tryin’ to scare ya… only tryin’ to help.

Cam Dillon was the Chief Field Agent for the Undead Division. I’d be reporting directly to him, and he reported directly to Phelan, who reported directly to Hammond. He wasn’t kidding when he said Hammond was big on chain of command. I had been told that some of the agents here had never even spoken to Hammond… not even a simple hello as they passed him in the hall.

There’s six of you working under Dillon, he continued. Agents Grant and LaSalle work the day shift, although we’re thinkin’ of moving LaSalle to prime-time. Marissa Dalton is on loan from Station 10 in Miami. FYI… she’s a vampire, but damn good at her job. And then there’s Rizzatto and Donovan. They’re a couple o’ cowboys… but two of the best agents we have. I recommend following their lead. You’ll learn a lot. Just don’t pick up any bad habits… especially from Donovan.

I had heard about Rizzatto and Donovan. Although I wasn’t sure what was true and what was fabricated, tales of their exploits made for great conversation among the cadets. I was really looking forward to working with them.

Lately, there’s been a lot goin’ on, Phelan said, so my best advice is try not to get overwhelmed. I know it’s instinctive to wanna jump right in and contribute, but don’t be ambitious. Sometimes it’s best just to sit back and absorb information. You’ll pick things up as you go along. Don’t force it. There’s a lot to learn here, and I have all the confidence in the world that you’ll do just fine. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have hired you.

That felt good to hear. It was true… I did just want to jump in and help out, but at the same time, I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes. I wanted to make friends, not enemies. That was important to me.

So we chatted for a little while longer, and Phelan told me that in terms of payroll, the department would be going paperless, which meant direct deposit. He wasn’t sure when the changeover would take place, but I’d be receiving live checks for at least the next couple of months. He said the F.A.P.A. had delayed direct deposit due to security reasons, but all the kinks had since been worked out and this was the direction they were heading.

We left his office soon after and proceeded to my division’s command center. The command center was a large, open room that resembled a police precinct. Each agent had their own desk, as well as their own phone and desktop computer. The CFA had a private office that branched off the main room, and calls would come in directly to that office from the dispatcher. There was one dispatcher who handled all four divisions, and his desk was conveniently located at the top of the main hall right before it split into the east and west wings which led to the command centers.

Phelan entered the room first as I followed closely at his heels. There were three people in the command center, and I was quickly introduced to them. Marissa Dalton was a petite woman with a very youthful appearance. Yet she was a vampire and much older than she looked. She had the most perfect hair I’d ever seen… long and straight, pulled back into a pony tail, with a sheen that was almost blinding. She seemed shy, but welcomed me nonetheless.

The other two guys needed no introduction. I could tell who they were just by looking at them. There was a swagger about them, and they emitted a confidence so powerful it was like a neon sign flashed over their heads reading: yeah, we know we’re the best, what are you gonna do about it? Jake Donovan wore a pair of black jeans and a blue collared short-sleeve shirt… a button-down with classic cars etched in black on both the front and back. He looked like he should’ve had a martini in his hand. Brady Rizzatto wore a pair of faded blue jeans and a long-sleeve black Henley which he rolled up to his elbows. Phelan was right… these guys were a couple of cowboys. Well, that’s how they appeared to me. But as cocky and arrogant as I thought they might be, they seemed happy to have me onboard. Of course, that might’ve had nothing to do with me personally, but rather having an extra body meant less work for them.

Phelan took a peek into Dillon’s office, but the CFA wasn’t there. When Phelan inquired to Rizzatto and Donovan as to Dillon’s whereabouts, they said they hadn’t seen him. At this time I swore I heard Phelan mutter the words ‘thank God’ under his breath. Perhaps he wasn’t quite ready to dump me into Dillon’s hands this early, which is what I assumed after he told Rizzatto and Donovan to take me downstairs to the lower level and show me around. They agreed without giving the boss any grief, then we left the command center and headed on our way.

So Ian Coltrane, huh? Brady said.

I nodded. People call me Colt.

Colt?

That’s right.

Like the Fall Guy? Jake chimed in.

The who? I asked.

The Fall Guy.

I had no idea what he was talking about, and my face showed it. Jake looked at me like I had two heads.

The Fall Guy… Colt Seavers? The Unknown Stuntman?

I shook my head apologetically.

Damn, kid… Jake said. Have you been livin’ in a cave your whole life?

Relax, Jake, Brady said, coming to my defense. He probably wasn’t even born yet when that show first came on. You can’t fault him for that.

Jake disagreed. We’re talkin’ pop culture, Brady.

Maybe for you, Brady said. But not for him. And come to think of it, I don’t remember that show going to syndication. You gotta give him a pass.

I don’t know, he said, turning his attention back to me. You know who Heather Thomas is?

I responded in the negative.

Jake scowled. What about Markie Post?

Now that name I recognized. "Wasn’t she on Night Court?"

Jake nodded. Chalk up a point for the newbie, he said sarcastically. "The Fall Guy was a classic from the 80’s. I highly suggest checkin’ it out."

I gave him my word just as we arrived at the freight elevator. They threw open the door and we walked in. It was a rickety old thing, and I was curious as to why we weren’t taking the stairs.

If you start seein’ Brady gettin’ all giddy, Jake said, don’t be frightened… he loves ridin’ this thing. It makes his balls tingly. And one o’ these days this thing is gonna give way and send us crashing to our deaths. But to him it’ll be worth it.

You’ll have to forgive Jake, Brady said. He hasn’t been laid in a while. Then he closed the door and pressed the button to the lower level. Jake’s face turned beat red, likely due to a combination of embarrassment and rage. He said nothing as we descended.

The freight elevator brought us straight into the armory, and when Brady threw up the door, Jake stormed out, obviously still upset from the previous comment. I had no prior knowledge of Jake’s personal life, never mind his love life, but I had the feeling Brady’s remark hit a nerve. It didn’t really bother me that Jake was razzing me about this Fall Guy business, although it was nice to see Brady back me up. It was simply a matter of me wanting to get off on the right foot. Like I mentioned earlier, I didn’t want to make any enemies.

I nodded to Brady in acknowledgment of his doorman service, and I could see in his face a sense of regret… not for holding the door open, mind you, but for taking that verbal shot at Jake. I think he realized he hurt his feelings.

Brady closed the elevator door and walked over to the far side of the room where a short little guy in a white lab coat was standing behind a long counter. Jake remained a safe distance away, refusing to make eye contact with the little guy, who apparently required quite a bit of hair gel to keep his blonde locks spiked that way. Brady approached him and introduced me. Duncan, this is Ian Coltrane… just started today. He’ll be workin’ with me and Jake. Ian, this is Duncan Boyd… Station 12’s armorer.

Duncan extended his hand and I shook it. Welcome aboard, he said.

Thanks. You can call me Colt.

Colt? Like the Fall Guy?

I heard Jake snicker as I nodded at Duncan, pretending that I was keen to their little in-joke. Duncan threw Jake a sideways glance, assuming the snicker was meant for him.

Let me just say how sorry I am you’re stuck with Donovan. He’s an ass clown. Rizzatto… he’s a good guy. You’ll learn a lot. Duncan then proceeded to tell me about the armory and the various classes of weapons contained within. He informed me of all the policies I should be familiar with regarding weapons check-out, and reiterated numerous times how he and he alone was responsible for every item in the inventory. He took special care of each and every weapon, and expected the agents to do the same. Then he seized the opportunity to throw a few more jabs at Jake, hurling one insult after the next. It was obvious to me these two had a history.

C’mon, Duncan, Jake said as he wandered over and offered his hand to him. Let’s bury the hatchet. Seriously, man… I’m sick o’ this crap. This ain’t no way to work.

Both Duncan and Brady were taken aback. To them Jake’s act of kindness came from left field, and perhaps they wondered if he was feeling alright. Duncan seemed hesitant at first…

C’mon, man… Jake said. Don’t leave me hangin’…

Duncan reluctantly lifted his hand and shook Jake’s, then a weird expression crossed his face. Donovan… your hand’s clammy.

No shit, he replied. Cuz I just used it to wipe the sweat off the back of my balls. Now stick that in your pipe an’ smoke it!

Duncan took a whiff of his hand, then erratically began to dry heave. Jake turned around and walked away, while Brady tried desperately to control his laughter. Duncan tried to regain his composure, and held his hand as far from his body as possible, as if he had just been infected with the plague.

Well, that’s our cue to leave, Brady said, as he led the way out of the armory. Thanks for the presentation, Duncan. We’ll swing by again soon.

Please don’t, Duncan mumbled to himself, assuming we were out of earshot. Well, Brady and Jake might’ve been… but I heard him just fine.

I wandered out into a hallway which ran parallel to the armory, just in time to catch the tail end of an apology that Brady made to Jake. Sorry about that… it was outta line, was followed by Don’t worry about it. There was no grudge to be held here. I suppose you work together long enough you learn not to take the occasional cheap shot personally.

There wasn’t much light in this part of building. And to be honest, the place looked like a dungeon. It was old and rustic and there were no windows. How Duncan worked down here without losing his mind was perplexing. Personally, I’d go crazy. I couldn’t be cooped up in here. But maybe Duncan was the type who could. The way he talked about his inventory of weapons… it was like they were his children. Hey, I give the guy credit for being that passionate about his job. Good for him.

Anyway, there was a pass code required for the door at the end of the hall. Brady used the keypad to enter a series of numbers which unlocked this monstrosity of a door. It was huge… kind of like the door to a bank vault. It was obvious this piece of technology was not part of the original structure. We passed into another hallway as the large door locked itself behind us, then continued through a second coded door into yet another hall. This one was much better lit, and as we walked to the end of a long corridor, I saw three men manning a checkpoint. They appeared to be security guards. One was sitting behind a dispatch desk. The other two flanked a large, steel door, and they carried a particular style of assault rifle I had never seen before. It was apparent these were designed to handle more than just your average vampire. I assumed there must’ve been something extremely dangerous on the other side of that door.

This is the detention center, Brady informed me. This is where we keep the uglies… among others.

Yeah, Jake said, sometimes we even lock up our own.

Brady growled at him. You had to go there, didn’t ya?

"Relax. He’s a free man. On the