Department 19: Zero Hour by Will Hill Page B

they had, everything that they were, to hold back the tide as long as possible.
    They would succeed, or they would die trying.
    “I might as well not bother activating your squad,” said Holmwood, grinning widely. “The three of you should probably just go on holiday instead.”
    “That’s kind of you, sir,” said Jamie. “I’ve always wanted to go to California.”
    “California’s nice,” said Holmwood. “But I was thinking more along the lines of grid reference 67-87?”
    Jamie nodded. “Sounds lovely, sir.”
    “Good,” said Holmwood. “Patrol Respond at 1800. I want a detailed performance evaluation of your new squad on my desk in the morning. And don’t roll your eyes and tell me that it’s just a Patrol Respond, because I know that, and I still want the report by 0900. Is that clear?”
    “Yes, sir,” said Jamie. “It’s clear.”
    Holmwood sighed. “Good. Your new squad’s designation is J-5. Go and tell Qiang and Ellison the news and leave me to my reading. If Dracula does take over the world, maybe he’ll need a secretary. I’m starting to feel like that’s mostly what this job is. Dismissed.”
    Jamie nodded and headed for the door. As he reached it, he paused, and turned back.
    “Sir?” he said.
    Holmwood looked up. “What is it, Jamie?”
    “Does it ever feel pointless to you, sir?”
    “Does
what
ever feel pointless to me?”
    “What we do, sir,” said Jamie. “Patrol Respond. Hunting down individual vamps when we know what’s coming.”
    Holmwood shook his head firmly. “No,” he said. “It doesn’t ever feel like that to me and I’ll tell you why. Because we save lives, Jamie, and saving lives is never pointless. Understood?”
    Jamie nodded. “Yes, sir.”
    “Good,” said Holmwood. “Now get out of here.”
    Cal Holmwood watched the door close and permitted himself a small smile.
    There were a number of men and women within the Department whom it always heartened him to talk to; Paul Turner, perhaps surprisingly, was one of them, as were Angela Darcy, Patrick Williams and Victor Frankenstein. Jamie Carpenter, for all his flaws, was another; there was something irresistible about the young Lieutenant, a determination at his core that allowed Cal to believe, even just for a minute, that everything was going to be all right.
    It won’t be,
he thought.
In all likelihood, everything is going to be very far from all right. But it’s good to think otherwise, every now and again.
    Cal returned his attention to the reams of paper smothering his desk, and reopened a report containing the repair and upgrade schedule for the Loop’s internal power supply; he had tried to get through it three times already, and was determined that this time he would at least make it past the first page. He was labouring through a seemingly endless paragraph when the terminal on his desk beeped, informing him that a message was waiting for him.
    Cal signed into the server, opened his secure inbox and frowned.
    The address the message had been sent from was not one he recognised. But more disconcerting by far was the subject line, which read FAO: HENRY SEWARD.
    He double-clicked on the message, opening it. It contained only four words, and no signature.
    COME TO VALHALLA ASAP

“I’m bored,” said Ellison, for the fifth time in as many minutes.
    “I heard you,” said Jamie. “But short of magicking up a horde of vampires for you to stake, there really isn’t very much I can do about it. So just sit tight.”
    “Yes, sir,” said Ellison, smiling widely at her squad leader.
    Qiang Li said nothing, but then he rarely did. The Chinese Operator Second Class simply nodded at his two squad mates and rechecked the magazine on his Glock.
    Operational Squad J-5 had departed the Loop at 1800 hours, right on schedule. Their driver had headed west, guiding her powerful van to the border of grid reference 67-87, where Jamie ordered Ready One, the Operational state that permitted the use of force