Another pull and slam. Hard enough to rattle the whole stack of crates. A whole new array of burning points of pain blossomed where my body was pressed into the splinters. He leaned in close—not close enough for me to bite his nose, though—and snarled at me to worship him, emphasizing it with another shake. I was getting chewed up pretty bad by the splinters and blood was pouring down my body. I could feel it running out of my hair and down my cheeks.

“The Red Order thought they were working to maintain the faith,” said Grigor, his tone full of mockery, “but they polluted their own mission. When the bombs go off, every human who survives will be on his knees. Not the first bombs—no, that will merely start the war—but the three we have placed on the altars of faith.”

“What … are you talking about? Where are those other bombs?”

Grigor leered at me and the other vampires laughed. This was the heart of their plan, and the delight they took in it crackled through the air like electricity.

“We will strike the very heart of the faiths whose stupidity and superstitions have made monsters of my people, and whose pointless holy wars have done nothing but drive people away from faith. When I have drunk your life, Captain Ledger, I will send the activation codes that will detonate high-yield nuclear devices that we have placed in tunnels beneath Jerusalem and Mecca and the Vatican.” He leaned close. “Do you think that will bring the faithful to their knees?”

Chapter One Hundred Eighteen

Chapter One Hundred Eighteen

Aghajari Oil Refinery

Iran

June 16, 6:23 a.m.

John Smith lay prone on a catwalk and tracked a dark-clad female figure with his scope. He had crosshairs on her the entire time. His finger lay along the outside curve of the trigger guard.

Without moving he said, “Company’s coming.”

In his earbud, Top said, “One of theirs or one of ours?”

Before he could answer, a second figure leaped out of a place of concealment and landed right in the woman’s path. The second figure moved unnaturally fast and he whipped out a long, curved dagger.

One of them.

John Smith slipped his finger into the guard, but before he could wrap it around the trigger, the woman ducked under the swing of the knife and there was a flash of silver in each of her hands. The Red Knight seemed to disintegrate into a cloud of bloody mist. Part of him landed on the catwalk, the rest fell into the steam below.

“One of ours,” said John Smith. “I hope.”

Chapter One Hundred Nineteen

Chapter One Hundred Nineteen

Aghajari Oil Refinery

Iran

June 16, 6:25 a.m.

I thought I had heard the worst, most shocking things I could hear. I was wrong.

Jerusalem.

Mecca.

The Vatican.

God almighty.