The President's Vampire by Christopher Farnsworth Read Free Book Online

understood now. “I thought that suit was too expensive for a guy from the CIA. You’re with Archer/Andrews.”
    Graves gave him a slight nod and smile. “We’re assisting with the internal investigation. Anything more public could be damaging to both this administration and our shareholders.”
    Zach couldn’t believe this guy. “Yeah, it would be a shame if anyone found out your kidnap-for-profit scheme was being misused.”
    Prador frowned at Zach.
    “The president has decided we need a little more distance—a little more delicacy—when dealing with you and Mr. Cade,” he said. “That’s the reason Colonel Graves is here. He’s going to make sure this is handled quietly.”
    Zach knew what that meant: deniability. The most important protection in politics. Whatever had happened, it would be better for the president if he could claim he didn’t know anything about it.
    Zach had known Will a long time. He’d never known him to bluff. If he said the president wanted this, he had to be pretty sure of the play he was making.
    President Samuel Curtis was the most honorable, intelligent politician Zach had ever known. But he was still a politician. Zach realized that somehow, he and Cade had stumbled on something that made the White House look bad. He might even be turned into the fall guy, if necessary.
    “This sucks,” Zach said.
    “It’s an awkward position,” Prador said. “If anyone found out about our involvement with Archer/Andrews . . .” He trailed off.
    “What are you worried about, Will?” Zach said. “Afraid the president will have to give back the Peace Prize?”
    Prador had the grace to at least look apologetic. “You know how it is.”
    Cade’s patience, however, was at an end. Zach heard him growl softly in the back of his throat as he stood, lifting the bag from the floor.
    “Perhaps Zach does,” Cade said. “But I don’t.”
    Prador started to speak: “Well, I’m sorry you feel that whao ooollly fucking shit! ”
    He almost fell over his chair backing away from his desk.
    All through the conversation, the leather bag had sat unopened at Cade’s feet. Now he unzipped the top and deposited the contents on Prador’s desk.
    “This is what was in your shipment,” Cade said. “This is what makes it my responsibility.”
    It was a head. Definitely not human.

    BULGING, REPTILIAN EYES STARED at Prador from dead-center on his desk blotter. Scales, not skin, sloughed off the bones where it had been severed from its body. Its teeth peeked behind its lipless mouth in a jagged parody of a smile.
    Prador’s nice, clean self-control was gone. He looked like he was about to have a stroke. His mouth opened and shut, but no words came out.
    Graves handled it better. He flinched, but mainly looked annoyed.
    “You always keep things like that in your luggage?” Graves asked, looking at Cade.
    Cade didn’t reply.
    “He likes to keep trophies,” Zach said.
    Cade ignored them. He kept staring at Prador.
    Prador closed his mouth. “What is that?”
    “This is what’s left of the pirates. This is what happened to their victims.”
    Prador looked baffled. “I don’t understand.”
    “They were human. Until they were touched by something. Then they became these.”
    “How . . . ?”
    “We don’t know,” Zach said.
    “No, I meant: how many were there?”
    “Thirteen,” Cade said. “That is, when it began. It could have been as many as twenty-seven.”
    Graves scowled. “You don’t have an exact count?”
    “No,” Cade said. “I mean there were thirteen at the start. They spread their infection to an additional fourteen people. I had to deal with all of them.”
    Prador blinked twice. “I’m sorry?”
    “Whatever those pirates did to themselves—whatever was done to them—it spreads on contact,” Zach explained. “Could be from the bites, or maybe even the scratches, but if you’re attacked by one of these snake-headed things, and you live, then you’re going to turn