Page 88 of Whispers at Dusk
“I am the bait—and an experienced agent, not suicidal,” Della assured him. “We have buds and mics we’re using. Mason will know where I am at every minute. And now—”
“Now, Mason feels better about the whole thing, because you’ll be with Della,” Mason said.
Gideon smiled at that. “I am glad to be of service, as you know. And I’ve no lack of faith in Special Agent Hamilton! A pirate for part of my days, there were few like Anne Bonny, Mary Read—or the great Grace O’Malley! Modern times, other side of the law, but I have seen the brilliance and subtlety of this fine lady, and I’ve no doubt we will prevail.”
Mason smiled grimly. He thought yes, they might well bring an end to the reign of the master vampire that day.
He wondered at what cost.
“Where to from here?” Gideon asked.
“Where do you suggest, my friend? You know this bayou better than any man, I believe, living or dead,” Mason told him.
“Go inland to your left, and we’ll be parallel,” Gideon said. “There are a few old shacks, most of them nearly reclaimed by the vegetation. But that’s the point, I believe—they are difficult to see. But we can run a path that hunters use upon occasion, again, mostly overgrown, but easy for a man to follow and...your radio?” he asked, pointing to the police radio attached to Della’s belt beneath her jacket.
“My police radio. And I’m turning on the remote, so we’ll—”
“Communicate carefully,” Gideon whispered.
Mason and Della both smiled at that, and Della looked at him. “I will be all right,” she said. “You will be right behind me.”
“Us,” Gideon corrected.
Mason indicated he was starting out.
Anything that Della said, anything that happened near her, he would hear. And no matter what Stephan Dante knew about them, he couldn’t know about the one ace they had up their sleeves.
Gideon.
It was time to take down a killer.
Della was glad she had spent time in both the Everglades and bayou country. Thankfully, the trees flourishing in the area provided shade, yet they locked in the sweltering touch of the heat as well.
She was glad of the denim jeans and jacket she’d chosen for herself for the day, and her boots. Tall grasses and weeds and vines seemed to tear at her every step. Paths here weren’t much; they could be overgrown in a day. She loved being on the water both here and at home, but walking through this much brush and foliage...
Hmm. Not so much.
“Something ahead,” Gideon told her.
She nodded, pulling her Glock from the holster at the small of her back as she moved forward.
Stephan Dante might have encouraged this game, positive he had a way to win. He always knew how to disappear. He obviously only chose places he knew well. But when he didn’t know them that well, he created his followers, his recruits, and they did the killing and the sharing of their victims’ blood.
They were all expendable in his mind. And sadly, they were all willing to sacrifice for theirmaster vampire, the king who had tried to teach them how to find immortal life. Others might well kill elsewhere for him while he sat back, relishing his godlike power.
Life and death.
And here...
He’d been born in Slidell. He must have come to know the entire area surrounding Lake Pontchartrain, and New Orleans, down to the Mississippi. In his arrogance, he believed he could disappear at will—and it wouldn’t matter how many agents and police officers were out there.
She pulled out her radio.
“Some type of an old structure ahead of me, east of our arrival point,” she said.
“Roger that.”
Mason’s voice came over the remote.
