Judas and the Vampires Read Online Free PDF

“To the very home of the devil...or at least one I know quite well.”
    Another precious look from her, this time it included a dash of naughtiness. It fit perfectly, I think, with the playful wink I gave her while exiting her office.
     
     
     
    Chapter 4
     
     
    “Get in!”
    The gruff male voice resounded beside me, after the black sedan screeched to a halt in front of my Acura. Normally, such an event would draw a protective response from the museum parking garage’s attendants. But their station sat empty, and most of the Smithsonian employees had already left for the day.
    Working a few hours late probably wasn’t the wisest idea. But after my late start to the day, things had piled up quickly. Not to mention the extra half hour it took to confirm Alistair’s and my flight arrangements with our preferred travel agent on such short notice, along with the necessary hotel and rent-a-car bookings in Iran.
    “Must you guys always play it rough?” I responded, my tone impishly cheerful. I tried to peer into the back of the sedan through the driver’s side window. The darkly tinted windows made it difficult to identify the lone passenger sitting behind the driver.
    “Just shut the hell up and get your ass in the car!” the driver snapped. A burly middle-aged man whose sullen scowl announced a sour disposition, his cracked teeth formed an uneven fence inside his mouth as he sneered. Dark sunglasses prevented me from confirming the same depth of malice in his eyes.
    “Lay off him, Ted,” said a familiar voice from the backseat. “I’m sure William knows why we’re here.”
    “Mike?”
    “Yes, William, it’s me.” The owner of the voice leaned forward. “Going to Iran, huh?”
    “How’d you find out so soon?”
    I’m not easily impressed, but I had just finished talking to my travel agent twenty minutes earlier. I marveled at how quickly the news had traveled to my CIA liaison. Then again, he does work for the primo spy group in the world.
    “This time it was more about the itinerary destination than anything else.” Mike’s thick salt and pepper hairline glistened in the sedan’s dimness. I also saw the glow from freshly fitted veneers—a testament to Michael Lavoie’s supreme vanity. His previous set of pearly whites was no worse for wear than the set of teeth my son’s buddy, Harold Mathis, owned. “No one makes a reservation for Tehran these days and escapes notice.”
    The back passenger door on the driver’s side suddenly opened.
    “Please...join me for a little chat,” said Mike.
    “Sure.”
    I couldn’t help but chuckle—especially after noting the driver named Ted continued to eye me with deep contempt. He shook his head disgustedly as I slid into the backseat.
    “Where’s Chuck?” The door locks immediately clicked shut and Ted’s window rolled up. I envisioned how uncomfortable this would make things for most folks. For me, it was just added incentive to keep our conversation light. “I guess it isn’t easy keeping good help these days, is it?”
    I laughed at my own joke, although the big fella in the front seat didn’t take kindly to my playful jab. All the more merriment for me!
    “Charley’s on a luxury cruise ship in the Caribbean this week.” Mike glanced weakly toward the front seat, where Ted glowered back at us through the rearview mirror.
    Unperturbed, I smiled and nodded at him while my best friend working for the United States government turned his attention back to me. Mike’s vanity far surpasses anything I can recall encountering since King Herod in Judea so many centuries ago. The Armani pinstripe suit and black-saddle loafers by Gucci far outclassed even the tailored suit I wore that day. And a closer look at Mike’s face revealed recent laser treatments to erase the latest fine lines around his eyes and mouth.
    The man is undeniably afraid of Father Time. It’s sometimes hard to believe he works for a secretive government. With all the primping and