"What people like Elin don't understand is that the actual location of the camp doesn't matter," Julian says. "Just the government connections that keep the blood and bodies flowing. The data! We need the data. If we can get access to her information, we have everything we need—let the mortal government snatch the bodies we need. Once we have Camp Scheffler's data, we'll be set up again in months, with all the connections we need to keep the operation running."
You turn Julian's words over in your mind.
"Oh, one last thing," the Banu Haqim says. "You'll need to ditch that phone, too."
"Thanks, Julian."
"There's a storage place off Exit 306," Julian says. "Go to Unit 43. Passcode is 3847. Drop your phone there—don't destroy the SIM—then pick up the new one on the shelf. That's the only way you're finishing this job."
Next
He hangs up.
You pull into the storage facility and do the phone trick again. The 5x5 storage cube has a brand-new flip phone waiting for you, still in its original packaging. You grab it and get back on the road as quickly as you can.
Next
You're between towns, about an hour from where you're supposed to turn off the legal roads to find Camp Scheffler, when headlights appear behind you. They're coming up hard. You instinctively put a hand on your duffel bag, where you keep the data destined for Elin Olivecrona.
The headlights blow past you, then the vehicle spins out, throwing up dust and grit. It skids to a halt a hundred yards up the road, its headlights pointing out into the big expanse of nothing that waits outside every Texas highway.
You slow down when you see the red Corolla. Or to be more precise, the maroon Toyota AE86. This is the car Lettow mentioned. The little hatchback looks to be in good shape. What is it, '85, '86? It's an import—regular left-hand drive…
You slam on the brakes and swerve as a figure stumbles onto the road. You spin out just like the AE86 and sputter to a halt in the gravel. After that wipeout, you take a moment to line up your mirrors, then you back up so you're next to the Corolla.
Carlos is leaning against his passenger door, looking ashen and clutching his stomach. You haven't seen him since he and Miguel—the guy who died at St. Basil's—were snooping around the apartment you keep in the Tucson parking garage.
Lettow's servant Alexander said Carlos was a cop. That's a good thing for a vampire to keep on the payroll, though this guy doesn't look like a cop now. He looks like roadkill.
It takes Carlos a moment to focus on you. He says something, but you can't hear him over the pounding beats of "Kernkraft 400."
"Turn that down!" you shout.
He nods vaguely and crawls back into his car to turn the music down, leaving a smear of blood on the door handle.
Next