Michael Gutterres watched the vampire stagger into the narrow, trash-strewn alley. The creature was so glutted on blood that it had become clumsy. Anyone who saw the vile soulless beast would probably just think it was a fat drunk.

There was a radio inside his motorcycle helmet. It gave him more bad news. “Michael, the other Secret Guard went to the nightclub. I’m afraid we were too late. It has already fed and escaped.”

“I know. I’m following it now.”

“Would you care for my assistance?”

The vampire disappeared into the shadows. “That won’t be necessary, Father. There’s only the one. Go home. It’s late.”

“That is not wise. It may be young, but it is still a vampire. We are tracking your signal. The nice young men from Switzerland are on their way to assist you.”

“I’ll be done by the time they get here.”

“God be with you, Michael.”

He drove the motorcycle to the end of the street, parked it, and got off. The area was mostly deserted. The market was closed. Most of the streetlights were out. He took off his helmet and listened. He was fairly certain the vampire was alone. If there were multiples, that would just make them more likely to attack. Good. He was tired of chasing this one.

Headlights temporarily brightened the street, but then the delivery truck rolled past. Even if anyone had seen his face, his ancestry was Portuguese and Chinese, and that would not be memorable here at all. His order was supposed to work in secret. Gutterres started for the alley.

The cell phone in his pocket buzzed. He checked it. Normally he wouldn’t answer while working, but this was from a number which could never be ignored. Gutterres answered it, but kept walking. Talking would simply make him look distracted, and thus more vulnerable. That vampire had looked so bloated that it would probably be lethargic, but the creatures tended to be territorial, so it wouldn’t tolerate a human poking around its sleeping area.

“This is Gutterres.”

There was no greeting or preamble. His contact spoke in Italian. “Agent Franks may have broken The Deal.”

Every member of the Secret Guard knew about Franks. In a world where everything had its place, he was an uncertain anomaly. “Are you certain?”

“It appears that way. We need you to go to America.”

Gutterres entered the alley. It smelled like blood and death. A mangy cat ran past his feet. “Where and when?”

“He was last seen in Washington. You will depart on the next flight.”

He kicked a tin can down the alley to make sure he was making plenty of noise. “I need to finish something first.”

“The flight leaves in an hour.”