“That’s the same word Joe heard from the Greek man, Krystos,” said Rudy.

Circe nodded. “Right. It’s the Russian word for vampires.”

“Ouch,” breathed Rudy. “Joe won’t like that.”

“What’s the context, Bug?”

Bug grinned. “That’s the part he really won’t like. According to Rasouli’s field agent, the Upierczi are high on the list of groups suspected of having planted the bombs.”

They looked at each other for several moments.

“Okay,” said Bug, “I found this stuff out, I forwarded it to the Big Boss, Auntie, and Joe, but I have no idea where to go with it, if you know what I mean.”

“I do,” admitted Rudy. “We can all say the word ‘vampire,’ and speculate about whether they are real or not, but that doesn’t connect us to the actual phenomenon. There are people involved in this case who other people believe to be vampires. The point is, what do we believe?”

“We can’t begin to answer that, Rudy,” said Circe. She chewed her lip for a moment. “I think we need an expert.”

“Who?” mused Bug. “Stephen King?”

“Close enough.” Circe looked at the wall clock. “God, it’s almost seven in the morning. Have we really been here all night?”

Very quickly, Rudy said, “At least last night ended well.”

Even though Bug could not hear the comment, Circe turned away to hide her flushed checks. She dug her cell phone out of her purse and searched for the number of Professor Jonathan Corbiel-Newton.

“This is her day off. She always sleeps in on Sundays.” Circe murmured as she listened to the rings. “She’s going to kill me.”

Rudy snorted. “She’ll get over it. Maybe Mr. Church will bring her inside his ‘circle of trust’ as the permanent DMS vampire expert.”

“Don’t joke.”

“I’m not,” he said.

Interlude Nine

Interlude Nine

Jerusalem

March 3, 1229 C.E.

“It is as cold as the grave in here.”

The young nun, Sister Sophia, scolded the old priest with her disapproving stare as she hustled around the room to pull closed the shutters and draw the heavy drapes.

Father Esteban, a hawk-nosed man of seventy, raised his head from the letter he was writing and watched her with mingled annoyance and amusement.

As Sister Sophia wheeled on him with a fierce scowl. “And look at you! By the blessed virgin you are positively blue with cold. What could you be thinking to let yourself get into such a state?”

“I’m sorry,” said the priest, his voice thick with fatigue, “I have been very busy.”