The Last Vampire

By Craig Hadley

About the Book
What if most of vampire lore and mythology was wrong? What if being a ‘vampire’ had nothing to do with good or evil, but instead was about a freak manifestation of events that created immortal beings? Joshua Jacob Jones is 600 years old…and the last vampire. Joshua is dragged back to his past when one of his human friends seeks him out after many years apart to share that a small group of very rich and powerful people have acquired vampire blood and are working to unlock the secret to becoming immortal.
Joshua agrees to join forces with his old friend to track down and destroy the source of the blood, as well as all the current research. To accomplish this mission, Joshua teams up with an unlikely group of allies, including a young Japanese woman who is incredibly gifted and a deadly samurai, six former special ops soldiers from across the globe and a beautiful middle-aged woman with a past that is key to unlocking the secrets of the rich and powerful group striving to become immortal. But it’s not just her secrets that will play a role in this mission. Joshua’s secrets are just as important...

About the Author
Craig Hadley earned a history and anthropology degree from the University of South Carolina, as well as a master’s in museum science from Johns Hopkins University. He has worked as a professional archaeologist and historian for more than twenty years. Throughout his career he has consulted and managed museums across the United States. He has also been a historical technical advisor on various motion pictures and documentaries. His specialty is military history, more specifically the American Revolution, the Civil War, and World War II.
Craig is a big classic film buff and has taught the history of film at various colleges, including his specialty, “History According to Hollywood.” He also enjoys science fiction and fantasy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: Mar 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887296081

Book preview

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The contents of this work, including, but not limited to, the accuracy of events, people, and places depicted; opinions expressed; permission to use previously published materials included; and any advice given or actions advocated are solely the responsibility of the author, who assumes all liability for said work and indemnifies the publisher against any claims stemming from publication of the work.

All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2023 by Craig Hadley

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted, downloaded, distributed, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, including photocopying and recording, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without permission in writing from the publisher.

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ISBN: 979-8-88729-108-6

eISBN: 979-8-88729-608-1

The Last Vampire

For Caroline, whom I love like a daughter,

and who inspired me to write this story.

Chapter One

The sounds were nearly deafening. The rhythmic and chaotic explosions of music reverberated off the metal walls of the storage facility. The punk rock band known as the Gutter Punks was wrapping up its regular Wednesday night rehearsals. Halloween was also only a few days away and they had a gig at the Tabernacle playing their costume ball. The lead singer and bass player Brad was belting out an old Sex Pistols song.

"The Captain’s wife was Mabel

To fuck she was not able

So the dirty shits, they nailed her tits

Across the barroom table

The Captain had a daughter

Who fell in deep sea water

Delighted squeals revealed that eels

Had found ‘er sexual quarters

Friggin’ in the riggin’

Friggin’ in the riggin’

Friggin’ in the riggin’

There was fuck all else to do!"

The drummer Jeff was a shaved-headed teen of nineteen. Brad, the lead singer and bass player, was twenty-one-years-old with a deep red mohawk and multiple piercings that gave him a hardened appearance that often caused people to cross the street when they saw him approaching. Joshua, the guitarist, was a tall, lanky kid with pale skin and striking blue eyes who looked to be around nineteen-years-old. He was banging his head in time with the music. His short shock blond hair with blue highlights flew around in rhythm to the music. He effortlessly enhanced the original Sex Pistols song with elaborate chord runs and flourishes that seemed impossibly hard, especially for such a young kid. Joshua and Brad both leapt into the air on the final note, landing hard on the concrete. All three were sweating hard and panting, almost out of breath.

Fuck that was good! shouted Brad.

Jeff and Joshua nodded in agreement.

I think that should be either our opening song or closer, said Ian.

Closer, said Joshua nonchalantly in a lilting southern accent. It’s got the best energy of the whole set and it will leave them wanting more.

Fuck yeah! screamed Brad, still riding high from the song performance, as well as some good weed. He took a long toke of OG Kush.

Sid Viscous sure knew how to write a good song! Jeff said as he jumped up from his drum set.

Sid didn’t write that song, Ian. It’s actually an old sailor’s song from the late eighteenth century.

Jeff and Brad starred at Joshua for a moment. They were always amazed at the random bits of obscure information he would sometimes interject into their conversations, especially about music history. But they let it slide as he was the best fucking guitar player they had ever had.

Joshua smiled, unplugged his guitar from the amp, and walked over and gently placed his black nineteen59 Gibson Les Paul back in its case. Brad paused to admire it.

I still can’t believe you’ve got a ’58 Gibson. How the hell did you ever afford that? You secretly rich or something?

It’s a ‘59. I inherited it from my grandfather. He was a jazz guitar player in New Orleans.

Well, if you didn’t know it, that’s worth some serious coin.

Maybe, but I love how it sounds, I don’t really care how much it’s worth.

Just saying, man.

Joshua nodded as he closed the case and locked it.

Hey Josh, ya want a ride home? Jeff asked.

Nah, I like to walk.

It’s almost fucking midnight. You sure you want to walk home in this neighborhood?

I’ll be fine.

Suit yourself. Smiled Jeff as he and Brad climbed into Jeff’s beat up van. Josh has got some fucking balls. Brad said as they watched Joshua close the door to the storage unit, lock it, and walk away into the night.

Joshua strolled down the alleyways and dark streets heading to his loft about another eight blocks away. He was a skinny kid dressed in a pair of ratty old jeans with a sleeveless white t-shirt and a sleeveless jean jacket that had various patches sewn on it ranging from bohemian symbols to even a couple of World War II Army Air Corps squadron patches. He had no piercings or visible tattoos, pale skin, and a youthful clean-shaven face. His face had sharp lines, as if he was on the verge of maturity. His spiked blond hair was streaked with blue. It was obvious that it was not his natural hair color. His bright blue eyes seemed to shine in the darkness. As he turned the corner down another alley, he heard a noise behind the dumpster up ahead.

Shit! he mumbled quietly to himself.

Just then three men leaped from behind the dumpster. They were wearing clown masks. Two of the men brandished large knives while the biggest one—and obviously the leader—had a Glock 9mm handgun. He looked like the clown in Stephen King’s It.

Give us your fucking wallet! growled the large one, who Joshua thought resembled a gorilla wearing a clown mask. Joshua pulled out his wallet and tossed it to the smallest of the three men. Now, give us the rings! Joshua obliged, his face blank and devoid of emotion.

Get his fucking guitar!

The gorilla growled in approval and motioned for the guitar. Joshua actually paused for a moment at that request as if considering his options. But then he sat the guitar down at their feet.

Fuckin’ A! yelled the small one.

Okay, let’s split! said the second one. As they turned to leave the large one stopped when he saw a glint around Joshua’s neck.

Wait a second, you’re fucking holding out on us!

He used his handgun to lift the small chain around his neck hidden under his t-shirt to reveal a small, but crude, silver Celtic cross.

Take it off, asshole! Joshua didn’t move. I said, give me that fucking necklace or I’ll blow you’re fucking head off! screamed the gorilla.

Joshua took a deep breath.

Look boys, I have given you everything you asked for without a fight. You’ve gotten everything I have worth anything. Now just walk away with your loot and be happy. You don’t need this necklace. Besides, it isn’t worth anything to anyone but me.

I said fucking give it to me! bellowed the gorilla.

Listen, I really don’t want any trouble, said Joshua as his eyes suddenly went cold. I don’t want to kill you, and you don’t want to be dead, he said in a monotone voice.

The three men were momentarily stunned when Joshua said that. Then they burst out laughing. After they finished laughing the gorilla lifted his arm and pressed the gun muzzle up against Joshua’s forehead. Fuck you! he growled.

Without warning Joshua grabbed the man’s gun arm twisting it hard, snapping it at the wrist. The sound of breaking bones could be heard, causing the man to scream in pain as he dropped the gun. Before anyone could react, Joshua plunged his right hand into the gorilla’s chest. The gorilla’s eyes grew wide in shock and agony. Joshua then ripped out the man’s heart. Blood gushed and covered the ground. In the dark alley it resembled a black sludge, steam rising from the asphalt. Joshua let the heart slip from his hand while it still faintly beat. The other two men stood motionless as they watched their leader’s body slump to the ground. Their eyes then met Joshua’s.

Jesus Christ! exclaimed the short one.

Mister, we didn’t mean any harm. I swear!

I gave you every opportunity to walk away.

Their knives were still visible but shaking from fear. They never saw it coming. Joshua snapped one man’s neck with ease. The other man started running away. Joshua picked up a knife on the ground and threw it into the man’s back between the shoulder blades. The man dropped to the ground, yelping in pain followed by death.

Joshua looked around. It was suddenly quiet. Realizing he had to clean everything up, he was pissed. He dragged the bodies into a pile and sighed. Well at least I’ll get a meal out of it.  He then picked up the discarded heart, brushed the dirt off of it, and devoured it. Before dawn he was finished disposing of the bodies

Joshua had finally made it home to watch the sunrise. It was a large three-story warehouse building that took up an entire block. He entered the ten-digit security code, walked in, got into the freight elevator, and went to the top floor.

He sat his guitar case down and walked over to the kitchen. His loft was huge, taking up the entire third floor. It was completely open concept. His gourmet kitchen took up an entire corner of the loft. A large plush red sofa was in the middle of the room with a large Asian floor rug in front of it and a long hand-made wooden coffee table on top. Two leather wingback chairs were positioned on either side of the rug. A giant flat screen TV was on the facing wall flanked on either side with a massive film collection.

Bookcases holding hundreds of books occupied the entire north wall. The back wall had large, tinted windows lining the entire length. In the center was a very expensive and elaborate crystal turntable. Speakers could be seen all around the loft, ensuring that the music would cover the entire space like a warm blanket. On either side of the stereo system were hundreds of record albums.

Joshua walked to his wine rack and pulled out a bottle of old French Bordeaux. He then put on a John Coltrane record and watched the sun continue to rise across the Atlanta skyline, the music wafting throughout the loft and surrounding him like a warm blanket.

———————————- # —————————————

The loud knock at the door startled Joshua. He sat up and rubbed his eyes as he turned to see a steady rain falling outside as his wall clock showed one o’clock in the afternoon. He got up and walked quickly to the stairway door and flicked on the security monitor. An elderly man in his 90s was standing there, though he looked quite fit for a man of his age. Joshua then got a faint whiff of rose water; it wasn’t coming from the old man, but the elderly gentleman appeared to be alone.

How the hell did he get past security and the locked steel door downstairs? he wondered. Curious, Joshua unlocked the door and opened it. Can I help you? he asked annoyed.

Hello, Josh. It’s been a long time, said the man in a very proper English accent. It wasn’t a London accent, thought Joshua, more like a properly educated aristocrat.

I’m sorry. I’m afraid you’ve got me confused with someone else mister.

No, I am certainly not confused, Josh. By the way, love the accent.

Joshua stared hard at the man with unblinking steely eyes, thinking about what to do or say next. Somehow this old man knew Joshua in some way that was beginning to make him feel uncomfortable. There was a pause and then Joshua started to close the door in the man’s face as he had decided that the better part of valor for now was to simply end this cat and mouse routine.

The man puts his hand on the door and then said in French, "Les sanglots longs. Des violons. De l’automne."

Joshua froze and stared at the man in disbelief. He then whispered, "Blessent mon Coeur. D’une mon Coeur. D’une langueur Monotone."

There was another pause as Joshua suddenly knew who the old man was. Good God! Jimmy? Jimmy Sterling, is that you?

The old man smiled. I go by James now.

Joshua smiled as he opened the door wide and warmly shook the man’s hand and invited him in. As James took off his overcoat, he looked around the room. Not much better than that damn cellar outside of Paris we were in for six months. He then looked at Joshua again. I can’t believe it. It’s been over seventy-five years and you haven’t aged a day.

You know it’s been much longer than that, smirked Joshua.

Yes, I remember, but actually seeing you in person after all these years finally makes it very real.

Speaking of which, how the hell did you find me?

I never really lost track of you, Josh. Family money, remember? Besides, pretending to be your own son and grandson over the years made it fairly easy. You’re what now, Joshua Jacob Jones the Fifth?

It makes it easier to legally secure my properties and finances through inheritance.

It also makes it easier to track you down.

Yea, that is the downside of it. But so far, it has worked fine. So have you got nothing better to do than keep tabs on me?

You saved my life, Josh, and you trusted me at one time enough to tell me who you really are. I gave you your space as you requested, but you are the most extraordinary man I have ever known, so I wanted to make sure you were alright.

I’m doing fine, Jimmy. Just fine. Joshua then gave James a cold stare. What are you doing here, Jimmy? Why contact me now?

Jimmy sat down and looked off.

In the spring of nineteen44 my Lancaster bomber was shot down over France. I was badly wounded and the only member of my crew to survive. I was a nineteen-year-old kid and stranded in enemy territory. Then you found me, Josh, hid me from the German’s, and nursed me back to health. Then one night, while Allied bombers were carpet bombing the hell out of us, we got completely shit-faced on two cases of wine, and you told me that you were really over 600 years old. A vampire.

You know I don’t like that word.

Maybe, but I don’t know what else to call you. I thought you were just drunk, but then later I saw you do things that no ordinary human could do. You also turned the mythology of vampires on its head. It seems that there is not much truth in the legends.

Joshua simply stared at Jimmy.

That night my entire perspective of the world changed forever. The impossible now seemed plausible and my life would never be the same. So I vowed to keep an eye out for you. When I got back home after the war, I hired private investigators that I trusted to keep loose tabs on you. Never the same investigator for more than five years and never a close eye, so no one would discover your secret. I would have always remained in the shadows, so to speak, as your guardian angel, but there has been a new development.

Such as what?

When is the last time you have seen someone of your kind?

Joshua pauses and thinks, also wondering if he should answer.

1969.

So have you considered the possibility that you are the last vampire?

Joshua cringed at hearing that word again, but then thought for a moment and shook his head. It has occurred to me.

Then I’ve got some troubling news. I was recently approached by a small conglomerate of extremely wealthy individuals. Sort of an exclusive group of billionaires.

You’re worth that much now?

Many times over. It seems that they are working on some sort of blood serum that can make a person immortal, though they have not perfected it yet. When I pushed for more information, my contact told me that they had the blood of an actual vampire. They are close to finding a way to synthesize it and make it safe for a human subject to inject and transform. The cost for getting the injection? Five billion dollars.

Bullshit! First of all, it’s a myth that vampires can create more vampires. Can’t be done. In fact most of the mythology surrounding vampires is a bunch of Bram Stoker nonsense. I don’t have any problems taking a stroll in the sunlight and don’t get me started on the whole crosses and holy water shit! Hell, we used to believe we were gifted by God, not cursed. Finally, where did they get the blood?

I don’t know, Josh, but technology and science today can do some amazing things. If they say they are close to finding a way to synthesizing that blood in a way to enable a transformation, then I have to believe that they are.

Joshua looked at Jimmy for a moment. Sorry, Jimmy. I don’t buy it. I think someone is pulling your leg.

I thought you might say that. I have someone I want you to meet.

Jimmy pulled out his phone and hit speed dial. Send her up now, please. He put the phone back in his pocket. Go and let her in, Josh. He motioned to the door.

Filled with curiosity, he walked over to the door and opened it. Standing there was a beautiful middle-aged woman in her early forties, dressed sharply in a white silk blouse and a form-fitting black skirt and black high-heeled shoes. Her brown mane was nicely stylized in a bob cut with a few gray hairs woven into her hair. Joshua then gets another scent of that rose water, but once again, it was not coming from this woman. She was wearing a French perfume that he recognized as Fragonard. The woman looks at Joshua and smiled and then walked over to Jimmy and sat down on the sofa next to him and crossed her very long and shapely legs.

Joshua Jacob Jones, may I introduce you to Becky Hughs.

Jimmy? What’s this about?

Humor me, Josh.

Mr. Jones, how old would you say I am? asked the woman.

Joshua looked hard at the woman for a moment. She had quite a lovely face, but there were some deep laugh lines around her mouth and some slight crow’s feet around the eyes. Her hands also looked worn. He could also tell that her impressive breasts, around 36 D-cups he estimated, were slightly sagging in their support bra.

I would say early- to mid-forties.

You would be correct. I am about forty-two-years-old. What would you say if I told you that just over six months ago, I was only a twelve-year-old girl?

Bullshit!

No, it’s true, Josh. Listen to her. Listen to what she has to say. Go ahead, Becky.

"A little more than seven months ago I was a twelve-year-old tween girl living on the streets of New York. My father was in prison and my mother had died of pneumonia a few months earlier. I had been placed in a foster home, but it was a nightmare, so I ran away. I was living on the streets. Then one day, while I was on my way to a soup kitchen for a hot meal, a van pulled up and two men got out and grabbed me, threw me into the van, and then drugged me.

When I finally came to, I was in a small windowless concrete room with a toilet, a bed, a small table, and a chair. I was wearing a hospital gown and I could tell that I had been washed clean from top to bottom. I was convinced that some perverts had kidnapped me and were going to molest me and do God knows what else to me. So I screamed and yelled and banged on the steel door, but no one answered.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, came two men in lab coats and a nurse, at least I think she was a nurse, and they told me that I was there to help with some medical experiments. They said if I behaved myself, they would feed and treat me well and after it was all over, I would get $100,000 and my freedom. I didn’t know whether to believe them or not, but to be honest, at that moment I was just relieved that they didn’t intend to rape me. So I decided to play along and see what would happen next. Besides, there did not seem to be any way to escape. So I nodded my head at them and relaxed. They took my vital signs and then left the room."

Joshua turned and gave Jimmy a glance and then turned his attention back to Becky.

"Days went by. My meals were always delivered by the same man and the food was quite good. I had not eaten that well in all my life. But the only interaction I had with anyone was with this young lab tech who delivered my food and also came by every day to take blood and my vital signs like blood pressure, temperature, stuff like that. He treated me very nice and always seemed apologetic about what he was doing. His name was Hank. After a couple weeks Hank would actually talk to me more and more. He kept saying that he was sorry, but he had a job to do. He hoped I would be alright, and he’d do his best to make sure I wasn’t harmed.

Finally, one day, the two large lab techs came into my room, and they put me on a gurney and strapped me down and wheeled me into some sort of laboratory. Everyone was wearing face masks and scrubs and they put an IV into my arm. I kept demanding they tell me what was going on, but they just ignored me and kept working. There was a glass window at one end and there were two older men in there watching everything that was happening.

Eventually the one guy I figured was the doctor came over to my IV and I saw him take out a syringe that had what looked like blood in it and injected it into my IV tube. I could feel it entering my veins; it was cold as ice. At first nothing else happened, but after about five minutes I felt the most intense pain I have ever felt in my life. Every muscle in my body started cramping up badly. It was so intense that I started screaming uncontrollably. I then felt something that I can only describe as a feeling that my bones were cracking and breaking inside of me. That, combined with all the cramping, was too much for me to take and I passed out from the pain.

Every time I woke up, I found myself back in that world of shattering pain and I would pass out again. Eventually I learned that they had to induce a coma in order to keep me from going insane. "

Jimmy then interrupted, What happened was an unexpected side effect of the serum they had developed. Instead of prolonging life, it actually sped up the aging process at an amazing rate. It was eventually determined that it altered Becky’s metabolic rate as well as a form of progeria, aging her at a rate of roughly one year for every seven days.

Becky then continued, When I finally woke back up and was brought out of my coma, I was a full-grown adult woman in my early twenties. I couldn’t believe it! When I tried to stand up and walk, I fell over as my entire center of gravity had drastically changed. At first I was pretty psyched to be a grown-up. But then I found out that the aging had not stopped, and they had no idea how to fix me. That’s when Hank came and told me he would help me escape.

Jimmy interrupted her again, While all this was happening to Becky, to which I was unaware, I needed to find proof of what was going on there. So my IT expert hacked into their database, and we discovered these experiments. Reading their lab notes I found out what they were doing to young homeless children like Becky there. We then looked through their personnel records and we targeted Hank as a potential recruit. I had my people approach him to recruit him to work for me.

And just how did you go about that?

We appealed to both his conscience…and his bank account.

Shrewd, said Joshua in a sarcastic tone.

Jimmy glared at Joshua and continued, Initially he was able to smuggle out a flash drive with various papers, memos, and even some of the test analysis. But then he contacted us and said he was going to help one of the test subjects escape so we could have some hard evidence. He chose Becky.

At this point Becky picked up the story, Late one night Hank came into my cell and told me he was taking me out of there to someone who might be able to help me. We were able to get past security and once we were out of the building, he had a minivan waiting for me with one of Lord Sterling’s men.

Joshua’s right eye arched up as he looked back at Jimmy. "Lord Sterling? I knew you came from money, but Lord Sterling? Do I need to bow when you come into the room?"

Bugger off, Josh, smiled Jimmy. You just need to kiss my ring.

Joshua quietly laughed at that. Sorry, Becky. Please continue.

Looking annoyed from the interruptions in her story she continued, Well, that’s about it. It has been five months since I escaped, and aging one year for every seven days, I am now who you see now. A forty-two-year-old middle-aged woman. Lord Sterling has tried to help me, but his doctors and scientists have not been able to do anything. They all say the same thing. Without a blood sample from the original source, they have no way of engineering an antidote. That’s when he told me about you and that you might be my only hope of hopefully stopping this disease before I die of old age.

Joshua leaned back in the leather chair and seemed to be lost in thought.

How much does she know about me, Jimmy? he asked seriously.

Enough.

So tell me. Why should I help you? Why should I care?

That question rattled Becky as it was devoid of either sympathy or emotion.

Jimmy leaned forward and looked Joshua square in the eyes. Because. Do you want rich and powerful billionaires who crave not only immortality but power to gain control of your gifts? I seem to remember one sadistic son-of-a-bitch that we both fought against who tried to conquer the world through war, genocide, and terror. Imagine if he had been able to become a powerful immortal being with extraordinary gifts?

Joshua considered Jimmy’s words for a moment. It’s not a gift; it’s a curse.

Even more reason to want to destroy their work. There is also the mystery of where did they get the blood? Who knows, you might not be the last vampire after all.

Joshua paused for a moment. Agreed. You’re right; no one should possess this power, especially a powerful group of billionaires. And secondly, I need to know where they got that blood.

One more thing, Joshua. I need you to help Becky.

And just how am I supposed to do that?

I want you to meet with my chief scientist and geneticist and give him some of your blood.

Now wait just a Goddamn minute! You want me to give you some of my blood so you can try and create the same serum? No fucking way!

Calm down, Joshua. I don’t want to create the same serum; I only want to find a way to cure Becky, if cure is even the right word. The best we can hope for is to stop her rapid aging and return it back to normal aging.

This time Becky interrupted Jimmy, Mr. Jones, I will never be able to go back to being a twelve-year-old girl again. They have robbed me of my youth. I will never be able to experience what it would have been like to be a teen girl, go to high school, or even college life. They have robbed me of any experiences I would have had as a young adult or a mature adult in her thirties. At the age I am now I should have already lived a full life and theoretically have been married and a family of my own. I’m already ten years older than my own mother, and if I don’t get help soon, I will be old enough to have been my own mother’s grandmother! If we can find a way to stop this progression, I will be stuck like this and have to start life as a middle-aged woman. I think I can cope with being like this, but it would help if we can stop this before I go through menopause or be eligible for social security.

Jimmy nodded and then spoke up again. There is something else Josh; this could allow us to figure out exactly what happened to you and the how and why you became who you are. Wouldn’t you like some of those answers?

Joshua considered that for a moment and then nodded. Okay, Jimmy. I am trusting you more than I have trusted anyone since, well since….

Since we were trapped in that wine cellar seventy-five odd years ago? Jimmy smiled.

Yea. Since then.

I promise not to let you down, Josh, Jimmy said as he stood up, which caused both Becky and Joshua to stand as well. Jimmy reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Joshua. Meet me at this address tomorrow morning at 10 AM.

Chapter Two

The next morning Joshua was drinking a large cup of coffee as he popped a few pills in his mouth. He had not slept at all and spent the night thinking about his encounter with Jimmy and Rebecca and all the information he had learned. It was a lot to absorb. He was being asked to trust his secrets to Jimmy and a few of his people. At first he had not questioned it as he trusted Jimmy, but as the night had worn on Joshua realized he was placing his trust in the nineteen-year-old Jimmy he had known during World War II. He really didn’t know this ninety-five-year-old version. What had the last seventy or so years done to him?

Joshua decided to go along for now, but he would have to keep a close eye on Jimmy, as well as what he would be asking of him. He quickly showered and dressed. He decided to try and look a bit more presentable so as to perhaps catch Jimmy and the others a bit off guard. He pulled out a nice tweed jacket, shirt, and tie with some dark khakis and a pair of brown loafers. He also styled his shock blond hair more neatly.

He walked down to the first floor and to one of his many motorcycles. He climbed onto the red nineteen28 Indian Chief and put on a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses and kick started the engine. As it roared to life it was like a Mozart symphony to him. He softly smiled, clicked open the automatic garage door, and raced out onto the street, well past the posted speed limit.

It only took him about ten minutes to reach the downtown office district as he pulled up to the curb across the street from the building he was looking for. As he climbed off the Indian, he caught a very familiar smell of rose water as he immediately saw a very attractive young Japanese woman in a charcoal business suit and heels walking past him. She had shoulder length silky black hair. She not only had an expensive looking purse but over her shoulders was a plain, long black satchel that looked like something that would carry a pool cue in it. This woman had to be who he sensed was there but out of sight last night. The question was, was