adapted for my use. The only one that proved suitable was the Browning Automatic Rifle. He had seen it in action when the Home Guard defended the estate from an assault by units of the German Brandenburger Regiment seeking to exterminate the Van Helsing Bloodline to affect my release from British control. He commissioned International Business Machines, who manufactured it at that time, to create a handgun version. The first pair was delivered a year later and it was designated the LC465. At the time I was using a handgun version of the Thompson submachine gun, designated LC354. It could use a 100-round drum magazine, but it was handicapped by the .45 ACP cartridge, which is pistol ammunition. In contrast, the 465 is handicapped by being limited to 20-round clips, but it uses the .303 British rifle cartridge. That was the standard military round at the time. It has a smaller diameter than the .45, but it is pointed rather than blunt-nosed, which gives it better penetration, while still designed to flatten and tumble on impact, causing substantial internal damage. It also comes in armor-piercing and incendiary varieties."
He picked one of the weapons up. "The LC465 machine pistol: fourteen and a half-inch barrel, nine-pound weight, gas-operated tilting breech block trigger. The .303 gives it a muzzle velocity of 2,800 feet per second and an effective range of 2,500 feet. It has selective fire: single-round semi-automatic or full automatic at 650 rounds per minute. It's only real disadvantage is that the clip can empty in less than two seconds." He raised the weapon and pulled the trigger; it stuttered for a moment as casings flew out its side then fell silent. When she looked through the scope she saw a neat little pattern of multiple holes above the bullseye. "I use this against extremely powerful and armored creatures, or against hordes of less powerful creatures."
"You missed."
"On purpose."
"Hmph. I didn't know the .303 was still made."
"It is not; at least, Aelfraed has been unable to find a supplier. However, I have nearly 10,000 rounds in storage, so assuming I do not have to fight off a major incursion I should have enough for a few years yet. Meanwhile, Mr. Holt has verified that with some modification my 465s can use NATO 7.62mm rounds. We are adapting one of my replacement pieces to test that."
"Good, but I believe we should try to upgrade your arsenal if possible, if for no better reason than to take advantage of current ammunition."
"Agreed. But I have the final say in what weapons I accept."
"I can live with that."
She watched him load a new magazine into the 465. "I'd like to ask you something, if you don't mind."
"You need not show me any consideration."
That caught her by surprise. "I beg your pardon?"
"You would not ask permission of a pistol, would you?"
She felt her irritation flare. "That's completely different."
"No, it is not. I am merely a weapon for you to use as you will."
She lost her temper. "Oh, don't talk nonsense, you bloody git! My servant you are, but you're still a sentient being, not a tool or a robot."
He looked at her, and his expression, though calm, looked earnest rather than arrogant or condescending. "You do not understand. As Director, you are responsible for protecting Sovereign, Church, and Country; you and you alone."
That sobered her. "I know, but--"
"That means you must, if necessary, order any and all of us under your command to die to fulfill that responsibility."
She started from shock. "What are you saying?!"
"That you must be ready, willing, and able to send any of your people to their deaths."
"Are you serious?"
"Deadly, Sir Differel. I have been the servant of your Bloodline for too long not to know, and I accept my role and my purpose for what it is. But the others do not yet realize this. They have not lived with the threat as I have, as your Family has. That is why the responsibility is yours. If you cannot do what needs to be done, you doom the Order, yourself, and all you hold dear to certain destruction.
She couldn't get her mind around it. Why is he telling me this?! What possible purpose could it have? "I...I don't know I...can--"
"You must, but it is not something I or Aelfraed or Mr. Holt, or anyone else can teach you. You must find the will and strength on your own, and you can only find it inside yourself."
She had the feeling he was right, but if no one could help her, how was she going to figure it out?
And is there even anything for me to find?
"There was something you wanted to ask me?"
Her mind skipped a track. "Huh? Oh, yeah, thank you. Have you noticed anything strange about Mr. Holt lately?"
"How do you mean?"
"Well, he seems to be avoiding me."
"You Humans need a sense of purpose in your lives; he feels he has none."
"But I gave him new duties, more responsibility."
"Up until now, he has defined his life and duty by one measure."
"As my bodyguard."
"Correct."
"And you usurped that role."
"Correct."
"I understood that; that's why I gave him a new role."
"He does not see it that way. To him, he has been demoted; caste aside like one of your old toys. He feels you are just giving him...what is that term...oh yes, 'busy work', to keep him occupied while you play with a new toy."
I suppose that makes sense, but...
"He's a professional soldier; he understands that he can be reassigned at a moment's notice."
"He may understand it, but that does not mean he likes it."
"I see what you're getting at, but he's much too important, too valuable to waste as a bodyguard--er, not that you aren't--"
"Master, remember; I need no consideration."
"All right, but my point is I need him doing other more important things right now."
"Have you told him this?"
That caught her by surprise. "Well, yes, just before he asked for a transfer. You remember; you were there."
"I remember you offering him a new assignment; I remember you ordering him to do his job. I do not recall that you said you needed him, that his new assignment was more important to you than his old one."
"But he should've understood--oh, bother. You're right."
"I usually am."
She scowled at him. "Never mind that! What can I do?"
"It is not too late, but it will be more difficult. Somehow you must convince him that you need him now more than ever. If you can do that, he will gladly stay on. Otherwise, you will lose one of your greatest assests."
"All right, but how?"
"You must figure that out for yourself." Then he grinned. "Think of it as a test of your leadership skills."
He was of course right, again, and she felt her temper flare. "Oh, shut it, you bloodsucking wanker." She then spun the chair around and headed back to her lane of the firing range.
The next day being Saturday, her senior staff gave their reports for the week. Before that day they had given them to Aunt Mandy, but now she was in charge. Ideally, the Order was supposed to have a Director, a Manager, and a Chief of Staff, but there hadn't been a CoS since the time of her great-grandfather George. Mandy had served as Manager for her father, but she hadn't a chance to appoint a new one when she took over as Regent Director.
Now she was Director, with no one to help her run the Order except her staff. She had to hope they would be enough, otherwise things could get ugly.
Gerald Mannering was the Chief Analyst, essentially the person in charge of the Administrative Wing. He had been acting as CoS, and he reported on the actions and investigations the Order had undertaken during the past seven days. Lt. Forester Maudine commanded the paramilitary troop charged with defending the estate. He reported on the progress of transferring troops to guard the house. The force was now evenly split, and while both halves were technically undermanned, he expressed confidence that extra troops could be mobilized wherever they were needed. She had hoped that Holt would attend the meeting a
nd give his assessment on training and orientation, but he had begged off, not being a senior staff member.
The rest of the reports were routine: Dr. Jean-Francois LeClerc told of how those injured during Mandy's coup were recovering; Mrs. Helena Widget explained the work she and the staff performed putting the house back together after the attack; and Master Andrea Virante described the effort of the kitchen staff to keep everyone involved in all that activity fed.
Aelfraed Walters went last. He began by reporting on efforts to restore the grounds and keep the guard posts manned, then went on to discuss the investigations regarding the nurse's allegations.
"We've dotted all the 'i's and crossed all the 't's, and her story checks out. There are no discrepancies or inconsistencies that we can find."
"But still no proof."
"If by that, Madam, you mean a smoking gun, no, unfortunately not. However, I feel we have a strong circumstantial case. Sir Edward and his supporters in the Council would be able to take this and use it to discredit Lord Stadford. I strongly suggest that we turn it over to him as soon as possible."
"I understand, but it doesn't feel right."
"In what way?"
"I don't know if I can put my finger on it. I just feels like we're being manipulated."
"How so?"
"Think about it. We catch an assassin in the act and coerce her into revealing her employer, but who does she name? The one person on the Council who gives us the most trouble; the one person we'd like see removed. Doesn't that strike you as being a bit too convenient?"
"It could be true, and the facts support that conclusion."
"Perhaps. And it could be just a ploy. What if she also wants Stadford eliminated?"
"With all due respect, Madam, I consider it unlikely that she attacked you just to incriminate him."
"Oh, I have no doubt I was her intended target, but consider: I remember reading a story of a hassassin killing a caliph and being captured. Under torture he named a dozen conspirators among the city's high officials, all of whom were subsequently killed. Thus the city was so weakened that it easily fell to a rival, who was the hassassin's true employer."
He thought about her answer for some moments. "You're suggesting that this is all part of some larger scheme to not only cripple the Order, but also weaken the Council with suspicion and infighting."
"It's certainly possible."
"But why choose Stadford? Wouldn't a better target be Sir Edward? He would be the logical choice to succeed you as Director if anything happened to you."
"That might be too obvious. Or perhaps she is trying to take advantage of the existing factions. From the way you described it, it sounds like the Council is ripe for being split apart."
"Indeed, you may be right, Madam, but that still doesn't explain why she chose Stadford out of all your critics."
"Then it seems we still have unanswered questions. Redouble your efforts, Aelfraed. We need answers, and we're running out of time."
He nodded his head. "Yes, Madam."
"Thank you, everyone, that'll be all."
She watched as they filed out. Aelfraed was the last.
"Aelfraed."
He stopped and looked back at her. "Yes, Madam?"
"Meet me outside the nurse's suite. I need to ask her some questions. I'll be there presently."
He nodded his head. "Of course, Madam."
After he left, she pretended to follow, but closed the door instead. "Vlad, come to me."
The Vampire appeared in a burst of shadow. "Yes, My Master?"
"Did you hear everything in the meeting?"
"Of course, Master, everything you heard, and said."
"Good. I need you to do something."
He flashed a wicked grin. "You have but to speak it, and I will fulfill your will."
"A simple 'yes' would suffice. Can you catch Stadford alone some time?"
"He will be meeting with his mistress tomorrow, at a secret lovers' nest."
That surprised her. "Oh, bother."
"Something wrong?"
"Something like that is none of my business."
"On the contrary, it gives us an advantage."
"Only if he's an enemy, and I'm still not