Finished at Last
Forget it Naoko. Hes not going to do it. Simon said. Ive asked him. Youve asked him. We could try and get Cammy to ask him, but Im not sure shes willing to do that. Face it Virginia, theres no Santa Claws this year.
Simon considered his partner in crime for a moment. Naoko Yoshida. Ace computer maven, former Olympic hopeful gymnast, and busybody/manipulator supreme. She was in the midst of organizing the IST Santas Grotto, and had hit the inevitable Santa wall. Miguel Macho Santos, her normal Kris Cringle of choice had begged off for the second year running. The invulnerable masqederos wrestler had already committed to spending the holidays in Mexico with his grandchildren. This left a large, Santa-shaped hole for Naoko to fill, and she was making every effort to shove an unwilling werewolf into that hole. So far Thibor had resisted guilt, teary eyes and the almost unheard of offer of Naoko picking up a dinner tab. The werewolf was made of sterner stuff; or more likely, properly cynical of Naokos manipulative motivations.
Chief. Naoko said solemnly, her freckled, pixie features falling into a stoic mask. We shall never give up. We shall pester him on the beaches, we shall pester him on the landing grounds, we shall pester him in the offices, streets and hills. We shall never surrender until his furry, Slavic, backside is seated firmly in Santas grotto.
When did this become we? Simon asked rhetorically and then caught himself.
Okay, youre the Prime Minister in this ill fated escapade. Whats your plan?
I call it Market Garden. Naoko said with the same somber gravitas. Garden for the magical grotto, and Market for the price that will be paid if Thibor doesnt agree to do it.
Wait Simon cocked an ear. My ancestors They are speaking to me They say. Run Simon Bitterbuck Run far away Little Freckled Fox is about to do something that both of you will regret Take her with you Buy her dinner Find another Santa
I like the buy her dinner part. Naoko grinned. If I can pull this off without saying another word to Thibor will you take me to that German Tavern he was talking about last week?
Not a word to Thibor? Simon considered. He was going to end up taking Naoko out anyway; making the bet wouldnt make a bit of difference, other than moving him slightly away from the blame explosion that would follow whatever she had planned. Done.
Simon. Cammy emerged from her office as if on cue. Would you be so good as to run through recent air traffic and security reports through Heathrow. Let me know if you find anything out of the ordinary. Naoko, the Major has asked me once again to turn down your request. I know that it is an excellent cause, but he does not want a repeat of last years fiasco. As a personal favour to me, could you please stop pestering him.
Its okay. You can tell him hes off the hook. Naoko said. Ive lined up someone else.
Champion. Cammy smiled, delighted that the matter had been dropped with grace and dignity. Did Miguel change his plans?
No, hes still in Mexico. Naoko said. But Colonel Byrd agreed, so everything is good to go.
Colonel Byrd?!? Cammy was understandably distressed at the thought of their commanding officer in the role. Please tell me we are not talking about Colonel Jonathan Byrd.
He said he was chuffed about the idea. Naoko continued. How bad can it be?
Cammy tried to respond. Then she tried again. The words just werent there. That wasnt entirely true. The words were there, but it would take several volumes to properly detail how bad it could be. An entire library could be devoted to just how bad it could be and it would not even begin to fully describe, let alone capture the degree of malicious glee, off-handed savagery, and laddish, soccer hooligan cruelty that was the Colonel Byrd experience. With a quick shake of her head Cammy turned sharply and retreated back to her office.
And we have a winner. Lucky! Naoko announced as the display on the phone system indicated that Cammy was making a call. She spun around in her chair and pumped both fists in the air.
Naoko. Simon said carefully. What happens when Thibor ask Colonel Byrd about this?
He says that he understands, and will step aside for Thibor. Naoko said smugly.
You didnt actually ask him? Did you? For the first time in the conversation Simon seemed genuinely distressed.
Ill tell you over Rheinischer Sauerbraten mit Kartoffelklen und Apfelmus. Naoko said with no small amount of gustatory glee.
* * *
There. Cammy made a final adjustment on the beard and lightly patted the pillow that was bulging Thibors waist out to a more Santa-ish profile. You will be fine Major. Its only for a few hours.
Bother. Thibor grated from behind the huge white beard. It was not the word he normally would have chosen, but it was the only one that he was allowed to use under the circumstances. Another eight hours of screaming, crying, urinating, defecating, gurgling, and drooling; and that was just the parents. It could be worse. Thibor let his gaze fall to Cammys short red elf boots, following them up her lithe, smoothly muscled legs, to the insanely short hem of her bright green Santas Little Helper skirt. Cammy caught the lecherous gaze and pulled the skirt back down from where it had ridden up again.
I do wish that whomever designed this outfit had exercised restraint and sewn a more appropriate hemline. Cammy said.
Is true. Thibor nodded sagely. Two inches higher and it could have been belt.
Okay. I think everything is ready. Naoko bustled in. Cammy frowned. Naokos skirt was several inches longer than hers and nowhere near as tight. You look great Thibor! Lets hear your laugh.
Paris, Britney, Christina. Thibor rumbled, his pillow belly shaking.
Not again. Naoko rolled her eyes. Its supposed to be Ho! Ho! Ho! Oh Very funny.
Ho! Ho! Ho! Thibors grin seemed far more genuine now. Is better?
It will do. Naoko said. Do you have the gifts ready?
Right here. Thibor gestured broadly to the bag that was set up next the throne. His hand caught the top and knocked it over, scattering several brightly colored packages across the floor.
Honestly Thibor. Cammy bent down to pick up the packages, stuffing them back into the sack. Do be a little more careful.
I love this season. The food, the presents, the snow. Thibor said. There is nothing like pure white covering on field of elf.
And what is that supposed to mean? Cammy blushed and tugged her skirt back down; suddenly aware that bending over had sent her skirt up far higher than proper decorum merited, revealing her knickers in the process. Five days to Christmas and already vying for the naughty list are we?
Nice list is vastly overrated. Thibor said. But am Santa, so cannot stay on naughty list - am sure that there is escape clause.
Very well. Cammy managed to grin through the blush. But if you try to use the When I think about you I touch my elves line, I will personally fill your stocking with coal and then beat you to death with it. Are we understood Major?
Affirmative. Thibor returned the grin and then turned on Naoko. Is Colonel Byrd unhappy at losing seat?
Nope. Naoko shook her head, sending the small jingle bells at the end of her long elf-
hat ringing. He said something about wandering down to the pub and becoming the Ghost of Christmas Pissed.
Will scare Dickens out of Marley. Thibor observed, collecting a groan and a wince from his audience. And no holiday footy and Guinness for Tiny Tim. So what is in sack?
The usual. Naoko said. Toys, games, gift certificates. Everyone was really generous this year. We even managed to score some really good corporate sponsorship.
Ia noticing signs on way in. IST Santas Grotto brought to you by Virgin. Is very Christmassy. He considered for a moment. Am sure that if was at little stable in Bethlehem, there would be large sign next to manger. Is also saying brought to you by Virgin. Oh, and is sign on donkey saying Virgin Mobile.
Its okay Naoko. Cammy said soothingly. Hes almost done.
And what is it with Joseph? Is carpenter Has virgin, has wood. Okay. Am ready now. Thibor settled into the throne like chair. We who are about to deal with children salute you.
* * *
You know, hes really quite good at this. Naoko sidled up to Cammy. Across the room Thibor has a young, blonde child perched on his knee. He was grinning. She was grinning. Everyone was happily ensconced in the warm glow of camaraderie and the Christmas spirit.
Well, it is a learning process. Cammy said with a fond glance at Thibor. You can teach an old dog new tricks, but it is not easy. Thibor is actually quite fond of children, and dealing with them, and I would wager that he actually enjoys playing Santa. That being said, the idea that he likes all of this is so completely alien to him that he denies it at every opportunity. Hence the rather ritualized ill temper and sarcasm prior to the start of this undertaking; but as you can see he does rise about it admirably.
You rotten little bitch! Thibor was on his feet, fully transformed from man to werewolf. He backhanded the little, blonde girl with all his strength, sending her across the room and through a cinderblock wall. Cammy gaped appalled until she noticed that the hilt of an overlarge hunting knife was protruding from Thibors other arm, the blade driven entirely through. With a grimace Thibor tore the knife free and dropped it on the floor. Blood continued to drip from the wound which refused to close over. That meant silver.
Oh bother. Cammy felt a cold fearful hand grip her heart. Vampires lived in fear of the Big Bad Wolf; but there was something that even the Big Bad Wolf feared. Naoko.
Get everyone else out of here! Get them out now!
How much is that doggy in the window? The sing song voice rang up from the hole in the wall. A pair of bright blue eyes, a shock of blonde hair, and a deep, blood red cloak were visible. The one with the waggy tail. How much is that doggie in the window? The doggy Im going to impale!
Bonnie Hood. Cammy moved into the line of fire, ready to try and draw Bonnie away from her target. She had read the file as well as having gone over the pertinent information with Thibor. A Scottish immortal, suspected to have been born in 1533. The same year that the church excommunicated Henry VIII and Ivan the Terrible rose to power. Not a good year. Not a good year at all. Although she might look like she stumbled out of a particularly Disney production of Grimms fairy tales, Bonnie was an almost peerless monster killer, utterly mercenary, completely insane, and to top it all off, supremely powerful. The limits of her abilities were unknown and almost unclassifiable. The only clue to the limits, was an epiphany Thibor suffered when watching anime with Uriko and the rest of the team. He had said that her powers were that of a little blonde girl in a monster anime; Super strong, resilient to damage, with infinite, customized weapons, and the disquieting ability to appear and disappear like the monster in a spam-in-a-cabin movie.
I saw Bonnie shooting Santa. Bonnie hopped out of the hole in the wall and dug a hand into the wicker basket she was carrying. She dragged out a Scorpion machine pistol and unleashed a long burst at Thibor. The werewolf managed to dodge out of the way as bullets chewed up the walls around him. Cammy moved in on the other side, sliding across the floor and then kicking up, knocking the gun from Bonnies hand.
Oh! Not nice. Bonnie wailed. She glanced down at Cammy and pointed a finger. And now no one will marry you!
What?! Cammy managed, kipping up to her feet. The answer hit her. Her skirt was at her belt again. Why a Scottish girl would be mentioning a Japanese predilection for the display of undergarments was quite beyond her. Why are you trying to kill Thibor?
Hes a bad dog. Bonnie said with enough smiles and dimples for a legion of Shirley Temple imitators. And someone is paying me a lot of money to kill his ass dead. Ill be able to get a nice present for Granny, a new bone for William, boots for Arthur and John and if there is a little leftover, maybe something special for me.
But what about all the kids who wont get their presents because you killed Santa? Cammy asked. While Bonnie was talking she wasnt shooting, or worse.
Oh no! Bonnies big eyes welled with tears. Those poor wee bairns. I know, Ill use some of the money to buy presents for them too. Then everyone will be happy happy happy. Thanks lady!
Champion. Bonnie ran off in a flurry of skirts, petticoats and spent bullet casings. Cammy pursued. It was impossible. Despite moving in a light, skipping, gait, Bonnie was actually pulling away from her. As Cammy rounded a corner in pursuit she was brought up short by a net that stretched across the whole of the corridor. She slammed into it and found it wrapping around her. In moments she was bound helpless and struggling on the floor.
There. No chasing Bonnie when Bonnie is out killing nasty old wolves. The short blonde psychotic waved a foot long knife at Cammy. If you do, Bonnie will give you a few more scars on your pretty face. Oh yes she will.
As Bonnie turned to skip away, Thibor dropped down from the ceiling tiles, landing in front of the blonde. Without pausing he kicked her under the chin, sending her flying into the air. He spun into her with a punch that drove her into the wall with enough force to shatter the concrete. Bonnie slumped to the ground.
Dont worry about me. Cammy protested as Thibors claws made fast work of the steel cables of the net. Just get out of here.
Here boy! Get the stick! Get the stick! Bonnie was back on her feet, waving a stick of lit dynamite in her hand.
No. Is not wanting the stick. Thibor said.
Come on. Bonnie urged as the fuse burned lower. Get the stick boy.
No. Thibor was adamant on the point.
Get the fucking stick! Bonnie exploded with rage, tossing the dynamite at the werewolf. Cammy moved in batting the dynamite back towards Bonnie. Bonnie bent to pick it up and then decided against the plan. She slammed her basket down on the dynamite and then hopped on top of it. There was a muffled boom and the basket jumped a foot off the ground with Bonni clutching the handle like the saddle of a bucking bronco. She landed heavily on the ground, her tiny feet kicking at the air.
Where oh were did my little dog go? Bonnie looked around at the empty corridor. Oh where, oh where could he be? With his tail chopped up and his head torn off, Oh where, Oh where could he be?
* * *
Naoko. Slow down! Simon held the phone away from his ear as his partner in crime continued her unabated report. Youre saying that bread rising good is tiring to Timor?
Bit excitable is she? Colonel Byrd was leaning over Simons chair, a malicious smile fixed on his features. Simon started and nearly dropped the phone. No one that big and utterly terrifying should be able to move that silently.
Red Riding Hood is trying to kill Thibor. Simon repeated as Naoko enunciated the message. Thats not good.
Well thats a nice change that is. A bit of blonde fluff trying to nail Sawchyk, instead of the other way round. Colonel Byrds lips twisted into a disquieting smile that probably signified amusement.
Ill have Louie bring transport in. Simon said. Im switching over to monitor their situation. Be careful.
Best be starting on the press release. Colonel Byrd said cheerfully. Major Thibor Sawchyk, dead at 54, 260 in dog years. Line to comfort the fianc starts at the right. No tongues.
Colonel. Simon paused, biting off his reply short. He had never had the pleasure of watching his own teeth skittering across the floor like so many bloody Chiclets, and was not about to court the sensation. Bonnie Hood is usually hired for supernatural creature assassination; I am initiating an investigation into the source.
Smashing. Byrd snapped his own neck to the side with an audible crack. He repeated the gesture on the other side. Mind if I ang over your shoulder an watch.
Simon nodded, not trusting himself to give an appropriate answer. The vicious bastard was actually enjoying this. Simons fingers danced over the keyboard, sending queries out in all directions and pulling up a copy of Bonnie Hoods file. He quickly scanned the information, his eyes dancing over the screen. Behind him, Colonel Byrd was whistling an off-key rendition of Mack the Knife.
Colonel. Simon managed. Do you mind? I am trying to concentrate.
Not at all old son. Byrd said. Bit of gallows humor. Be as good as gold I will.
Simon paused. The bastard knew something. Thibor and Cammy were in danger of being blown away by a tiny Scottish psychopath and Byrd was playing some stupid game. There were two options, he could ask Byrd what he knew outright, play along, or The bastard! The rotten bastard!
Thank you Colonel. Simon cleared his screens and sent new queries out. Bonnie was always paid in Krugerands, half before the job, half after; or at least that is what the file said. It would just be a matter of looking for banking transfers; customs documents; and barring that, private aircraft whose occupants hand enough cash or influence to sway the normal customs channels. The target was in Britain and fairly close. The list was daunting, but one name immediately caught Simons eye. MacDonald Heath. Unlike MacHeaths jackknife, which was kept out of sight; their was a registration for Heath in a suite at the Astor. Heaths name had come up several months ago as being associated with the late Senator Kennedy.
Well done lad. Byrd slapped Simon on the back with enough camaraderie to take the wind out of his lungs. Ill be off them. Dont wait up.
* * *
How are you holding up Major. Cammy said as they ran through the back corridors of the mall. They had been dodging Bonnie for the better part of twenty minutes.
Terrified. Thibor said calmly. Is always hoping to die with boots on. Is cool. Dying with Santas boots on is just lame.
If it is all the same to you, try not to die. Cammy noted. It had been a struggle getting you trained and I bally well dont want to have to go through the effort again.
Dead. Domesticated. Dressed like Santa. Thibor barked as they pushed through a door to the parking lot. Day just keeps getting better.
Domestication is the least of your worries. Cammy noted archly, scanning the parking lot for cover. And if you insist on carrying on as such, I shall take you in and have you fixed.
Right. So will not be Santa any more. Will be Saint Dickless. Thibor inclined his head towards a large Christmas tree lot. As bonus, will have new baubles to hang on tree. At least is not roasting over an open fire.
Thibor. All kidding aside. Dont die. Cammy said quietly.
Affirmative. Thibor noted, his eyes narrowing. His muzzle twitched. Oh fuck!
Cammy never had a chance to wince at the epithet, as Thibor snagged her and hunched over, turning his back to the tree lot. That was it. No one had been in the car park. For a mall this close to Christmas? Cammy instinctively covered her ears and opened her mouth. The explosion obliterated the tree lot, and Thibor whimpered slightly as something struck him. A second explosion followed the first, the force of it tearing Cammy away from Thibors grasp; she slammed into the side of a van, the air whooshing out of her lungs. The parking lot was a shambles; shattered safety glass and the remnants of a gross of Christmas trees littered the landscape.
So she took her dog Max, and she took some red thread, then she blew a big hole in the back of his head. Bonnie chanted happily. Cammy forced herself to breathe and made it to her feet, her head still spinning from the explosion. Thibor was lying on his back, staked to the ground by three large, silvery poles; his fur was soaked in blood; attesting to the silver ball bearing that had been loaded into all of the explosives. Bonnie finished tying garlands of red ribbons around the poles and then reached into her basket, pulling out a bazooka that was taller than she was. With a nasty smile she pressed it against Thibors head, so his muzzle was shoved entirely into the muzzle.
Wait! Cammy cried out. She took a step forward, staggering slightly as her foot caught the remains of a tree. Look what you did to my tree.
What about it? Bonnie snarled, her finger poised above the trigger.
Its not such a bad little tree. Cammy offered a silent prayer. All it needs is a little love.
Huh? Bonnie left the bazooka stuck on Thibors face and skipped over. What?
It just needs a little love? Cammy repeated; hoping to keep the cute little psychopath distracted. She managed to prop the tree up in a tire that had been blown free from a Mazda. See.
Oh! I see! Bonnies blue eyes sparkled with tears. She reached into her basket and brought out a pair of grenades and hung them on the tree by their pins.
Of all the Bonnies you are the most Bonniest. Cammy continued as Bonnie pulled a long chain of linked, silver sixty caliber bullets from her basket and draped them on the tree. Please. Dont kill him.
Hes your dog? Bonnie said kindly. Im sorry, Ill be gentle when I blow his fucking head off his shoulders. Hold on.
The interruption was Santa Claus is Coming to Town, which jangled out in eight bit mediocrity from Bonnies basket. The blonde reached in and withdrew the ringing cellular phone and held it to her ear. Cammy forced herself to stay relaxed. The moment Bonnies guard dropped she would kick her into the next county.
What? Really? No. Not yet. Okay! Bye-bye! Bonnie dropped the phone back into the basket. That was the nice man who hired me. He says I can have all the money and you can keep your dog. Isnt that nice!
Thibor! As Bonnie skipped happily away, Cammy rushed over to the bleeding werewolf. She tore strips from the shredded Santa suit and got direct pressure on the worst of the spurts. Stay with me. Youll be fine.
You saved me with a Charlie Brown Christmas? Thibor grimaced.
I was shell-shocked. Cammy explained, knotting a bandage in place.
Excuses. Thibor tried to raise himself, but collapsed back to the ground. Have one thing to say to that. OoooOOoooooOOOooo!
* * *
Moments earlier
MacDonald Heath rubbed his hands together gleefully. Soon the werewolf would be destroyed. It was only a matter of time before the trail leading from the late Senator Kennedy to Heaths consultancy firm was established. Killing the werewolf, especially through the auspicious of such an unstable assassin should be enough to keep IST out of his hair for years to come. He congratulated himself again, and considered the suitcase containing the second half of the two million dollar payment. Half up front. Half when the job was done. A knock on the door broke Heaths thoughts. That didnt make sense. He had specifically requested that he not be disturbed. As he reached for the gun under his pillow the hotel door exploded into splinters. A huge man in a smooth, blue jumpsuit stood in the doorway. His face and shoulders were hidden by a large, realistic owl mask. Even more disquieting was the Santas hat that was perched jauntily on the owls head.
Who? Heath tried to point the gun, but the man was faster than anyone that big should have the right to be. A steel fingered hand closed on his wrist and wrenched the gun aside. There was a muffled bang, but Heath realized that it was not the sound of the gun, but rather the bones in his forearm snapping explosively. He tried to scream, but the own-mans hand closed over his mouth and jaw, bearing down with vice-like pressure.
Roight then old son. The voice that issued from behind the mask was a dreadful parody of a happy Cockney. All the enthusiasm, none of the warmth. Im the sodding ghost of Christmas Pissed. Ive got a belly full of the black stuff, and Im here to teach you the true meaning of Christmas Bugger that. Im here to hoy you in the ribs until yer pissing yer lungs into your keks. Unless of course you wish to recant your wickedness an call off your assassin; better hope Sawchyks still coffin dodging or its your arse mate.
Ill do it! Heath took the phone the man pressed into his hand and dialed it with a shaking finger. The phone range once. Then again. The man in the owl mask placed a large foot, encased in an equally large combat boot on the bed and gave it a quick polish. The phone was answered.
Dont kill him! Heath shouted into the receiver. You can have all the money! Its yours! Merry Christmas! Please tell me hes still alive? Thank God! The money is here for you.
Warms the heart it does. The owl man patted Heath gently on the top of his head. God bless us, each and every one. Stay good.
MacDonald Heath watched in amazement as the terrifying apparition turned and walked away, gently closing what remained of the door behind him. He was alive; he had gotten away; a Christmas miracle.
Oi dickhead. The few shards of door blew into the room. The owl-man was back. The Santa hat had been replaced with a garland of holly. Me mate the Ghost of Christmas Pissed was just here. Im the sodding Ghost of Christmas Rupture. Thats like future but with a R-U-P, instead of an F-U. Whos been a good little sod and deserves a great, big rib hoy-ing?
On no. Wetting himself seemed like the path of least resistance, and Heath savored the momentary warmth as the nightmarish figure advanced.
* * *
Major. Simon said as Thibor limped into the Operations Center, leaning slightly on Cammy.
Thibor! Thank goodness! Naoko pushed away from her desk and sent her chair towards Thibor. At the last minute she spun about and got up. Are you going to be okay.
Will be fine. Thibor grated.
You are hardly fine Major. Cammy reminded him gently. The doctors took almost a pound of silver out of you. You should really be in bed.
Great suggestion; Simon, Naoko, carry on. Thibor raised an eyebrow.
In bed recovering. Cammy blushed brightly. Really Thibor, the wedding isnt that far off. If youre well enough to be thinking of such things, then I suppose you are fit for duty.
Affirmative. Thibor managed to snap to attention with a slight wince.
Major, Lieutenant Colonel, Lieutenants. Colonel Byrd strode in, trailed in by a ruddy faced Captain ONeil. He examined Thibor with a malicious smile. On the mend then?
Is fine. Thibor grated with an equally wolfish smile.
Fair enough then. Byrd smiled. Yoshida. Ive made the arrangements and Ill see you at the grotto Saturday. Cheers.
Naoko! Cammy exploded as Byrd and ONeill left. You are not to let that man play Santa.
Im sorry. Hes the only one I could get. Naoko wailed unhappily. Miguel is still in Mexico, and Thibors broken.
Will do it. Thibor slumped against Cammy.
Thibor! You dont have to. Cammy said. Youve done your bit for Queen and country.
No. Will do it. Thibor straightened. We are Officers in the International Super Teams. It is our duty to stand between the innocent and the horrors of the world.
Thank you. Cammy said gently. But, as bad as he is, I dont think that Colonel Byrd quite qualifies as such.
Byrd? Thibor shook his head. No. Was talking about ONeil in Santas Little Helper Outfit.
Forget it Naoko. Hes not going to do it. Simon said. Ive asked him. Youve asked him. We could try and get Cammy to ask him, but Im not sure shes willing to do that. Face it Virginia, theres no Santa Claws this year.
Simon considered his partner in crime for a moment. Naoko Yoshida. Ace computer maven, former Olympic hopeful gymnast, and busybody/manipulator supreme. She was in the midst of organizing the IST Santas Grotto, and had hit the inevitable Santa wall. Miguel Macho Santos, her normal Kris Cringle of choice had begged off for the second year running. The invulnerable masqederos wrestler had already committed to spending the holidays in Mexico with his grandchildren. This left a large, Santa-shaped hole for Naoko to fill, and she was making every effort to shove an unwilling werewolf into that hole. So far Thibor had resisted guilt, teary eyes and the almost unheard of offer of Naoko picking up a dinner tab. The werewolf was made of sterner stuff; or more likely, properly cynical of Naokos manipulative motivations.
Chief. Naoko said solemnly, her freckled, pixie features falling into a stoic mask. We shall never give up. We shall pester him on the beaches, we shall pester him on the landing grounds, we shall pester him in the offices, streets and hills. We shall never surrender until his furry, Slavic, backside is seated firmly in Santas grotto.
When did this become we? Simon asked rhetorically and then caught himself.
Okay, youre the Prime Minister in this ill fated escapade. Whats your plan?
I call it Market Garden. Naoko said with the same somber gravitas. Garden for the magical grotto, and Market for the price that will be paid if Thibor doesnt agree to do it.
Wait Simon cocked an ear. My ancestors They are speaking to me They say. Run Simon Bitterbuck Run far away Little Freckled Fox is about to do something that both of you will regret Take her with you Buy her dinner Find another Santa
I like the buy her dinner part. Naoko grinned. If I can pull this off without saying another word to Thibor will you take me to that German Tavern he was talking about last week?
Not a word to Thibor? Simon considered. He was going to end up taking Naoko out anyway; making the bet wouldnt make a bit of difference, other than moving him slightly away from the blame explosion that would follow whatever she had planned. Done.
Simon. Cammy emerged from her office as if on cue. Would you be so good as to run through recent air traffic and security reports through Heathrow. Let me know if you find anything out of the ordinary. Naoko, the Major has asked me once again to turn down your request. I know that it is an excellent cause, but he does not want a repeat of last years fiasco. As a personal favour to me, could you please stop pestering him.
Its okay. You can tell him hes off the hook. Naoko said. Ive lined up someone else.
Champion. Cammy smiled, delighted that the matter had been dropped with grace and dignity. Did Miguel change his plans?
No, hes still in Mexico. Naoko said. But Colonel Byrd agreed, so everything is good to go.
Colonel Byrd?!? Cammy was understandably distressed at the thought of their commanding officer in the role. Please tell me we are not talking about Colonel Jonathan Byrd.
He said he was chuffed about the idea. Naoko continued. How bad can it be?
Cammy tried to respond. Then she tried again. The words just werent there. That wasnt entirely true. The words were there, but it would take several volumes to properly detail how bad it could be. An entire library could be devoted to just how bad it could be and it would not even begin to fully describe, let alone capture the degree of malicious glee, off-handed savagery, and laddish, soccer hooligan cruelty that was the Colonel Byrd experience. With a quick shake of her head Cammy turned sharply and retreated back to her office.
And we have a winner. Lucky! Naoko announced as the display on the phone system indicated that Cammy was making a call. She spun around in her chair and pumped both fists in the air.
Naoko. Simon said carefully. What happens when Thibor ask Colonel Byrd about this?
He says that he understands, and will step aside for Thibor. Naoko said smugly.
You didnt actually ask him? Did you? For the first time in the conversation Simon seemed genuinely distressed.
Ill tell you over Rheinischer Sauerbraten mit Kartoffelklen und Apfelmus. Naoko said with no small amount of gustatory glee.
* * *
There. Cammy made a final adjustment on the beard and lightly patted the pillow that was bulging Thibors waist out to a more Santa-ish profile. You will be fine Major. Its only for a few hours.
Bother. Thibor grated from behind the huge white beard. It was not the word he normally would have chosen, but it was the only one that he was allowed to use under the circumstances. Another eight hours of screaming, crying, urinating, defecating, gurgling, and drooling; and that was just the parents. It could be worse. Thibor let his gaze fall to Cammys short red elf boots, following them up her lithe, smoothly muscled legs, to the insanely short hem of her bright green Santas Little Helper skirt. Cammy caught the lecherous gaze and pulled the skirt back down from where it had ridden up again.
I do wish that whomever designed this outfit had exercised restraint and sewn a more appropriate hemline. Cammy said.
Is true. Thibor nodded sagely. Two inches higher and it could have been belt.
Okay. I think everything is ready. Naoko bustled in. Cammy frowned. Naokos skirt was several inches longer than hers and nowhere near as tight. You look great Thibor! Lets hear your laugh.
Paris, Britney, Christina. Thibor rumbled, his pillow belly shaking.
Not again. Naoko rolled her eyes. Its supposed to be Ho! Ho! Ho! Oh Very funny.
Ho! Ho! Ho! Thibors grin seemed far more genuine now. Is better?
It will do. Naoko said. Do you have the gifts ready?
Right here. Thibor gestured broadly to the bag that was set up next the throne. His hand caught the top and knocked it over, scattering several brightly colored packages across the floor.
Honestly Thibor. Cammy bent down to pick up the packages, stuffing them back into the sack. Do be a little more careful.
I love this season. The food, the presents, the snow. Thibor said. There is nothing like pure white covering on field of elf.
And what is that supposed to mean? Cammy blushed and tugged her skirt back down; suddenly aware that bending over had sent her skirt up far higher than proper decorum merited, revealing her knickers in the process. Five days to Christmas and already vying for the naughty list are we?
Nice list is vastly overrated. Thibor said. But am Santa, so cannot stay on naughty list - am sure that there is escape clause.
Very well. Cammy managed to grin through the blush. But if you try to use the When I think about you I touch my elves line, I will personally fill your stocking with coal and then beat you to death with it. Are we understood Major?
Affirmative. Thibor returned the grin and then turned on Naoko. Is Colonel Byrd unhappy at losing seat?
Nope. Naoko shook her head, sending the small jingle bells at the end of her long elf-
hat ringing. He said something about wandering down to the pub and becoming the Ghost of Christmas Pissed.
Will scare Dickens out of Marley. Thibor observed, collecting a groan and a wince from his audience. And no holiday footy and Guinness for Tiny Tim. So what is in sack?
The usual. Naoko said. Toys, games, gift certificates. Everyone was really generous this year. We even managed to score some really good corporate sponsorship.
Ia noticing signs on way in. IST Santas Grotto brought to you by Virgin. Is very Christmassy. He considered for a moment. Am sure that if was at little stable in Bethlehem, there would be large sign next to manger. Is also saying brought to you by Virgin. Oh, and is sign on donkey saying Virgin Mobile.
Its okay Naoko. Cammy said soothingly. Hes almost done.
And what is it with Joseph? Is carpenter Has virgin, has wood. Okay. Am ready now. Thibor settled into the throne like chair. We who are about to deal with children salute you.
* * *
You know, hes really quite good at this. Naoko sidled up to Cammy. Across the room Thibor has a young, blonde child perched on his knee. He was grinning. She was grinning. Everyone was happily ensconced in the warm glow of camaraderie and the Christmas spirit.
Well, it is a learning process. Cammy said with a fond glance at Thibor. You can teach an old dog new tricks, but it is not easy. Thibor is actually quite fond of children, and dealing with them, and I would wager that he actually enjoys playing Santa. That being said, the idea that he likes all of this is so completely alien to him that he denies it at every opportunity. Hence the rather ritualized ill temper and sarcasm prior to the start of this undertaking; but as you can see he does rise about it admirably.
You rotten little bitch! Thibor was on his feet, fully transformed from man to werewolf. He backhanded the little, blonde girl with all his strength, sending her across the room and through a cinderblock wall. Cammy gaped appalled until she noticed that the hilt of an overlarge hunting knife was protruding from Thibors other arm, the blade driven entirely through. With a grimace Thibor tore the knife free and dropped it on the floor. Blood continued to drip from the wound which refused to close over. That meant silver.
Oh bother. Cammy felt a cold fearful hand grip her heart. Vampires lived in fear of the Big Bad Wolf; but there was something that even the Big Bad Wolf feared. Naoko.
Get everyone else out of here! Get them out now!
How much is that doggy in the window? The sing song voice rang up from the hole in the wall. A pair of bright blue eyes, a shock of blonde hair, and a deep, blood red cloak were visible. The one with the waggy tail. How much is that doggie in the window? The doggy Im going to impale!
Bonnie Hood. Cammy moved into the line of fire, ready to try and draw Bonnie away from her target. She had read the file as well as having gone over the pertinent information with Thibor. A Scottish immortal, suspected to have been born in 1533. The same year that the church excommunicated Henry VIII and Ivan the Terrible rose to power. Not a good year. Not a good year at all. Although she might look like she stumbled out of a particularly Disney production of Grimms fairy tales, Bonnie was an almost peerless monster killer, utterly mercenary, completely insane, and to top it all off, supremely powerful. The limits of her abilities were unknown and almost unclassifiable. The only clue to the limits, was an epiphany Thibor suffered when watching anime with Uriko and the rest of the team. He had said that her powers were that of a little blonde girl in a monster anime; Super strong, resilient to damage, with infinite, customized weapons, and the disquieting ability to appear and disappear like the monster in a spam-in-a-cabin movie.
I saw Bonnie shooting Santa. Bonnie hopped out of the hole in the wall and dug a hand into the wicker basket she was carrying. She dragged out a Scorpion machine pistol and unleashed a long burst at Thibor. The werewolf managed to dodge out of the way as bullets chewed up the walls around him. Cammy moved in on the other side, sliding across the floor and then kicking up, knocking the gun from Bonnies hand.
Oh! Not nice. Bonnie wailed. She glanced down at Cammy and pointed a finger. And now no one will marry you!
What?! Cammy managed, kipping up to her feet. The answer hit her. Her skirt was at her belt again. Why a Scottish girl would be mentioning a Japanese predilection for the display of undergarments was quite beyond her. Why are you trying to kill Thibor?
Hes a bad dog. Bonnie said with enough smiles and dimples for a legion of Shirley Temple imitators. And someone is paying me a lot of money to kill his ass dead. Ill be able to get a nice present for Granny, a new bone for William, boots for Arthur and John and if there is a little leftover, maybe something special for me.
But what about all the kids who wont get their presents because you killed Santa? Cammy asked. While Bonnie was talking she wasnt shooting, or worse.
Oh no! Bonnies big eyes welled with tears. Those poor wee bairns. I know, Ill use some of the money to buy presents for them too. Then everyone will be happy happy happy. Thanks lady!
Champion. Bonnie ran off in a flurry of skirts, petticoats and spent bullet casings. Cammy pursued. It was impossible. Despite moving in a light, skipping, gait, Bonnie was actually pulling away from her. As Cammy rounded a corner in pursuit she was brought up short by a net that stretched across the whole of the corridor. She slammed into it and found it wrapping around her. In moments she was bound helpless and struggling on the floor.
There. No chasing Bonnie when Bonnie is out killing nasty old wolves. The short blonde psychotic waved a foot long knife at Cammy. If you do, Bonnie will give you a few more scars on your pretty face. Oh yes she will.
As Bonnie turned to skip away, Thibor dropped down from the ceiling tiles, landing in front of the blonde. Without pausing he kicked her under the chin, sending her flying into the air. He spun into her with a punch that drove her into the wall with enough force to shatter the concrete. Bonnie slumped to the ground.
Dont worry about me. Cammy protested as Thibors claws made fast work of the steel cables of the net. Just get out of here.
Here boy! Get the stick! Get the stick! Bonnie was back on her feet, waving a stick of lit dynamite in her hand.
No. Is not wanting the stick. Thibor said.
Come on. Bonnie urged as the fuse burned lower. Get the stick boy.
No. Thibor was adamant on the point.
Get the fucking stick! Bonnie exploded with rage, tossing the dynamite at the werewolf. Cammy moved in batting the dynamite back towards Bonnie. Bonnie bent to pick it up and then decided against the plan. She slammed her basket down on the dynamite and then hopped on top of it. There was a muffled boom and the basket jumped a foot off the ground with Bonni clutching the handle like the saddle of a bucking bronco. She landed heavily on the ground, her tiny feet kicking at the air.
Where oh were did my little dog go? Bonnie looked around at the empty corridor. Oh where, oh where could he be? With his tail chopped up and his head torn off, Oh where, Oh where could he be?
* * *
Naoko. Slow down! Simon held the phone away from his ear as his partner in crime continued her unabated report. Youre saying that bread rising good is tiring to Timor?
Bit excitable is she? Colonel Byrd was leaning over Simons chair, a malicious smile fixed on his features. Simon started and nearly dropped the phone. No one that big and utterly terrifying should be able to move that silently.
Red Riding Hood is trying to kill Thibor. Simon repeated as Naoko enunciated the message. Thats not good.
Well thats a nice change that is. A bit of blonde fluff trying to nail Sawchyk, instead of the other way round. Colonel Byrds lips twisted into a disquieting smile that probably signified amusement.
Ill have Louie bring transport in. Simon said. Im switching over to monitor their situation. Be careful.
Best be starting on the press release. Colonel Byrd said cheerfully. Major Thibor Sawchyk, dead at 54, 260 in dog years. Line to comfort the fianc starts at the right. No tongues.
Colonel. Simon paused, biting off his reply short. He had never had the pleasure of watching his own teeth skittering across the floor like so many bloody Chiclets, and was not about to court the sensation. Bonnie Hood is usually hired for supernatural creature assassination; I am initiating an investigation into the source.
Smashing. Byrd snapped his own neck to the side with an audible crack. He repeated the gesture on the other side. Mind if I ang over your shoulder an watch.
Simon nodded, not trusting himself to give an appropriate answer. The vicious bastard was actually enjoying this. Simons fingers danced over the keyboard, sending queries out in all directions and pulling up a copy of Bonnie Hoods file. He quickly scanned the information, his eyes dancing over the screen. Behind him, Colonel Byrd was whistling an off-key rendition of Mack the Knife.
Colonel. Simon managed. Do you mind? I am trying to concentrate.
Not at all old son. Byrd said. Bit of gallows humor. Be as good as gold I will.
Simon paused. The bastard knew something. Thibor and Cammy were in danger of being blown away by a tiny Scottish psychopath and Byrd was playing some stupid game. There were two options, he could ask Byrd what he knew outright, play along, or The bastard! The rotten bastard!
Thank you Colonel. Simon cleared his screens and sent new queries out. Bonnie was always paid in Krugerands, half before the job, half after; or at least that is what the file said. It would just be a matter of looking for banking transfers; customs documents; and barring that, private aircraft whose occupants hand enough cash or influence to sway the normal customs channels. The target was in Britain and fairly close. The list was daunting, but one name immediately caught Simons eye. MacDonald Heath. Unlike MacHeaths jackknife, which was kept out of sight; their was a registration for Heath in a suite at the Astor. Heaths name had come up several months ago as being associated with the late Senator Kennedy.
Well done lad. Byrd slapped Simon on the back with enough camaraderie to take the wind out of his lungs. Ill be off them. Dont wait up.
* * *
How are you holding up Major. Cammy said as they ran through the back corridors of the mall. They had been dodging Bonnie for the better part of twenty minutes.
Terrified. Thibor said calmly. Is always hoping to die with boots on. Is cool. Dying with Santas boots on is just lame.
If it is all the same to you, try not to die. Cammy noted. It had been a struggle getting you trained and I bally well dont want to have to go through the effort again.
Dead. Domesticated. Dressed like Santa. Thibor barked as they pushed through a door to the parking lot. Day just keeps getting better.
Domestication is the least of your worries. Cammy noted archly, scanning the parking lot for cover. And if you insist on carrying on as such, I shall take you in and have you fixed.
Right. So will not be Santa any more. Will be Saint Dickless. Thibor inclined his head towards a large Christmas tree lot. As bonus, will have new baubles to hang on tree. At least is not roasting over an open fire.
Thibor. All kidding aside. Dont die. Cammy said quietly.
Affirmative. Thibor noted, his eyes narrowing. His muzzle twitched. Oh fuck!
Cammy never had a chance to wince at the epithet, as Thibor snagged her and hunched over, turning his back to the tree lot. That was it. No one had been in the car park. For a mall this close to Christmas? Cammy instinctively covered her ears and opened her mouth. The explosion obliterated the tree lot, and Thibor whimpered slightly as something struck him. A second explosion followed the first, the force of it tearing Cammy away from Thibors grasp; she slammed into the side of a van, the air whooshing out of her lungs. The parking lot was a shambles; shattered safety glass and the remnants of a gross of Christmas trees littered the landscape.
So she took her dog Max, and she took some red thread, then she blew a big hole in the back of his head. Bonnie chanted happily. Cammy forced herself to breathe and made it to her feet, her head still spinning from the explosion. Thibor was lying on his back, staked to the ground by three large, silvery poles; his fur was soaked in blood; attesting to the silver ball bearing that had been loaded into all of the explosives. Bonnie finished tying garlands of red ribbons around the poles and then reached into her basket, pulling out a bazooka that was taller than she was. With a nasty smile she pressed it against Thibors head, so his muzzle was shoved entirely into the muzzle.
Wait! Cammy cried out. She took a step forward, staggering slightly as her foot caught the remains of a tree. Look what you did to my tree.
What about it? Bonnie snarled, her finger poised above the trigger.
Its not such a bad little tree. Cammy offered a silent prayer. All it needs is a little love.
Huh? Bonnie left the bazooka stuck on Thibors face and skipped over. What?
It just needs a little love? Cammy repeated; hoping to keep the cute little psychopath distracted. She managed to prop the tree up in a tire that had been blown free from a Mazda. See.
Oh! I see! Bonnies blue eyes sparkled with tears. She reached into her basket and brought out a pair of grenades and hung them on the tree by their pins.
Of all the Bonnies you are the most Bonniest. Cammy continued as Bonnie pulled a long chain of linked, silver sixty caliber bullets from her basket and draped them on the tree. Please. Dont kill him.
Hes your dog? Bonnie said kindly. Im sorry, Ill be gentle when I blow his fucking head off his shoulders. Hold on.
The interruption was Santa Claus is Coming to Town, which jangled out in eight bit mediocrity from Bonnies basket. The blonde reached in and withdrew the ringing cellular phone and held it to her ear. Cammy forced herself to stay relaxed. The moment Bonnies guard dropped she would kick her into the next county.
What? Really? No. Not yet. Okay! Bye-bye! Bonnie dropped the phone back into the basket. That was the nice man who hired me. He says I can have all the money and you can keep your dog. Isnt that nice!
Thibor! As Bonnie skipped happily away, Cammy rushed over to the bleeding werewolf. She tore strips from the shredded Santa suit and got direct pressure on the worst of the spurts. Stay with me. Youll be fine.
You saved me with a Charlie Brown Christmas? Thibor grimaced.
I was shell-shocked. Cammy explained, knotting a bandage in place.
Excuses. Thibor tried to raise himself, but collapsed back to the ground. Have one thing to say to that. OoooOOoooooOOOooo!
* * *
Moments earlier
MacDonald Heath rubbed his hands together gleefully. Soon the werewolf would be destroyed. It was only a matter of time before the trail leading from the late Senator Kennedy to Heaths consultancy firm was established. Killing the werewolf, especially through the auspicious of such an unstable assassin should be enough to keep IST out of his hair for years to come. He congratulated himself again, and considered the suitcase containing the second half of the two million dollar payment. Half up front. Half when the job was done. A knock on the door broke Heaths thoughts. That didnt make sense. He had specifically requested that he not be disturbed. As he reached for the gun under his pillow the hotel door exploded into splinters. A huge man in a smooth, blue jumpsuit stood in the doorway. His face and shoulders were hidden by a large, realistic owl mask. Even more disquieting was the Santas hat that was perched jauntily on the owls head.
Who? Heath tried to point the gun, but the man was faster than anyone that big should have the right to be. A steel fingered hand closed on his wrist and wrenched the gun aside. There was a muffled bang, but Heath realized that it was not the sound of the gun, but rather the bones in his forearm snapping explosively. He tried to scream, but the own-mans hand closed over his mouth and jaw, bearing down with vice-like pressure.
Roight then old son. The voice that issued from behind the mask was a dreadful parody of a happy Cockney. All the enthusiasm, none of the warmth. Im the sodding ghost of Christmas Pissed. Ive got a belly full of the black stuff, and Im here to teach you the true meaning of Christmas Bugger that. Im here to hoy you in the ribs until yer pissing yer lungs into your keks. Unless of course you wish to recant your wickedness an call off your assassin; better hope Sawchyks still coffin dodging or its your arse mate.
Ill do it! Heath took the phone the man pressed into his hand and dialed it with a shaking finger. The phone range once. Then again. The man in the owl mask placed a large foot, encased in an equally large combat boot on the bed and gave it a quick polish. The phone was answered.
Dont kill him! Heath shouted into the receiver. You can have all the money! Its yours! Merry Christmas! Please tell me hes still alive? Thank God! The money is here for you.
Warms the heart it does. The owl man patted Heath gently on the top of his head. God bless us, each and every one. Stay good.
MacDonald Heath watched in amazement as the terrifying apparition turned and walked away, gently closing what remained of the door behind him. He was alive; he had gotten away; a Christmas miracle.
Oi dickhead. The few shards of door blew into the room. The owl-man was back. The Santa hat had been replaced with a garland of holly. Me mate the Ghost of Christmas Pissed was just here. Im the sodding Ghost of Christmas Rupture. Thats like future but with a R-U-P, instead of an F-U. Whos been a good little sod and deserves a great, big rib hoy-ing?
On no. Wetting himself seemed like the path of least resistance, and Heath savored the momentary warmth as the nightmarish figure advanced.
* * *
Major. Simon said as Thibor limped into the Operations Center, leaning slightly on Cammy.
Thibor! Thank goodness! Naoko pushed away from her desk and sent her chair towards Thibor. At the last minute she spun about and got up. Are you going to be okay.
Will be fine. Thibor grated.
You are hardly fine Major. Cammy reminded him gently. The doctors took almost a pound of silver out of you. You should really be in bed.
Great suggestion; Simon, Naoko, carry on. Thibor raised an eyebrow.
In bed recovering. Cammy blushed brightly. Really Thibor, the wedding isnt that far off. If youre well enough to be thinking of such things, then I suppose you are fit for duty.
Affirmative. Thibor managed to snap to attention with a slight wince.
Major, Lieutenant Colonel, Lieutenants. Colonel Byrd strode in, trailed in by a ruddy faced Captain ONeil. He examined Thibor with a malicious smile. On the mend then?
Is fine. Thibor grated with an equally wolfish smile.
Fair enough then. Byrd smiled. Yoshida. Ive made the arrangements and Ill see you at the grotto Saturday. Cheers.
Naoko! Cammy exploded as Byrd and ONeill left. You are not to let that man play Santa.
Im sorry. Hes the only one I could get. Naoko wailed unhappily. Miguel is still in Mexico, and Thibors broken.
Will do it. Thibor slumped against Cammy.
Thibor! You dont have to. Cammy said. Youve done your bit for Queen and country.
No. Will do it. Thibor straightened. We are Officers in the International Super Teams. It is our duty to stand between the innocent and the horrors of the world.
Thank you. Cammy said gently. But, as bad as he is, I dont think that Colonel Byrd quite qualifies as such.
Byrd? Thibor shook his head. No. Was talking about ONeil in Santas Little Helper Outfit.
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