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a single military truck drove away. We believe Dr. Greenbarger was drivingit. We found the truck two days ago in Salt Lake City, with traces of a somewhat grisly cargo—a cargo that helped to complete the inventory, in fact. But we haven’t yet found Greenbarger.”
    “So we don’t know if he’s a traitor,” Rudin said.
    “That’s correct. We don’t know why he hasn’t made contact. But he seems to be on the run, for whatever reason.”
    “We’re working on finding him,” Marina said. She and Kleefeld had been talking about the problem for days, but this was the first the others had heard about it. “We’ll bring him in.”
    “I should hope so,” Rudin said. “I’d hate to have him running around out there telling who knows what to who knows who. Someone like that …”
    “He knows too much, is that what you’re saying?”
    “That pretty well sums it up, Ms. Tanaka-Dunn. I would certainly expect a serious attempt to—”
    Marina cut him off. He didn’t believe her capable of
serious,
because of the way she looked and the proclivities she liked to indulge. She didn’t know how he could walk, sleep, or sit with a two-by-four up his ass, but she didn’t question him about it in front of their peers. “We’ll find him. We’ve also got other operations in the works.” She made a show of turning to look at the clock on the wall. “In fact, I’ve got to run—we have a situation brewing in New York that I have to look into.”
    “Attend to it, Marina,” Kleefeld said, effectively shutting down any protest from the others. Marina rosefrom her seat and let them watch her ass as she left the room.
    Dan Bradstreet’s focus had meshed smoothly with the agency’s—research the bloodsuckers, understand them scientifically and sociologically so you could apply old-fashioned intelligence principles against them. Marina was more basic than that. She wanted to destroy the bastards. Every last one of them.
    In New York, she would be going up against an active cell with her new team of hardcore, balls-to-the-wall killers, their first time in action together. This was going to be more fun than that gangbang with a Russian Army brigade, back in her postgrad days, and which still lived on as one of her favorite memories that didn’t involve killing anything.
    There would be killing this time. Lots of it, she hoped.
    Killing gave her a reason to get out of bed every day. And getting paid for it?
    That was even better.

6
    L ARRY G REENBARGER WAS A man of science, not a spy or some sort of action hero. He didn’t know much about how to disappear, how to elude professional pursuit. He had seen a few movies, but those guys always made it look easy and seemed to be able to rope a beautiful woman into helping them. Even human, he wouldn’t have been able to pull that off.
    But he knew he had to stay hidden. Letting Operation Red-Blooded find him now would be suicide. He had driven the stolen military truck to Salt Lake City, feeding en route from the corpses he’d brought along. He dumped it there, in an airport parking lot. During the drive, he had experimented with warming his skin, using the power of his will to restore something close to a human appearance. He could only keep it up for short periods, but it was enough to get a cab from the airport to a cheap motel on the city’s outskirts. The next night he went on the hunt for the first time, catching a woman between a bar and her Jeep. She was drunk, unsteady on her feet, laughing quietly to herself. He waited until she had the driver’s door open, so he could see which vehicle was hers, then attacked.
    She could barely defend herself, and killing her was no problem.
    After he fed and threw her in the back, Larry used her keys to start the vehicle. He found her address on the Jeep’s registration and drove it to her house. She lived alone, which was what he had been hoping for. He carried her body inside and put it in her bed, in case he got hungry again