Two Chimerae remained stationed by the house, and fresh soldiers were dispatched to the park to maintain a watch on the party of Antagonists, who seemed to be in no hurry to move on, even after they had finished their food and packed the plates back in the basket. Grafter soldiers jogged by the party in running suits and strolled by in business clothes. A pram was hastily procured and a shawl draped over it so that two Chimerae could sit on a nearby bench, absently rocking a pillow masquerading as a baby. Serious thought was given to acquiring a dog to blend in with the many dog walkers, but no one could agree on what would be done with it afterward. The two youngest Chimerae, who happened to absolutely loathe each other, consented, under duress, to lie down in the grass near the Antagonists and make out for a while. With the heavy foot traffic in the park, there was simply nothing to do but wait. The Chimerae could not so much as shout at one of the Antagonists without drawing the attention of witnesses.
“Patience,” said Franz after hours had passed and they received a report that the Antagonists had not only failed to move from their spot but had opened a bottle of champagne. They remained lounging on their blanket, chatting easily. There was much laughter. From what the Chimera observers could pick up and relay back to the hotel room, they did not appear to be talking about anything of relevance. No mention of the Broederschap, the Checquy, or any planned attacks. A good deal of the conversation appeared to revolve around a British reality-television show and who was the biggest bitch on it.
“You’re sure these are the Antagonists?” Amanda asked doubtfully.
“Sander and two other trackers confirmed it,” said Bart.
“Do we want to try entering the house in their absence?” asked Franz. Bart hesitated. It was tempting, but the possibility of raising an alarm was too great. If the Chimerae followed the plan, it wouldn’t matter if an alarm was raised. They would still be able to surround the Antagonists and kill them.
Night fell. The other visitors to the park started to depart but the Antagonists made no move to leave; they continued to lounge on the blanket. A park official bustled up to them and pointed out that the park was now closing. One of the females stood up to talk to him, putting her hand on his shoulder and leaning close. He nodded several times and wandered away. The Antagonists toasted one another and settled back down.
To the outrage of the observing Chimerae, the park official then bustled up to them and advised them that the park was now closing. Rather than raise a fuss and thus possibly draw attention, the soldiers meekly withdrew.
Of course, they didn’t entirely withdraw, because they were elite warriors on a mission of vital importance who would not be thwarted by a minor functionary, and so the two of them with the best eyesight hid in some nearby shrubbery.
For several hours.
“They have opened another bottle of champagne,” said one of the observers over the network in their heads. Back in the room, Bart swore loudly in Dutch.
“It is now two in the morning,” said Franz. “Surely they cannot stay in the park forever.”
“Screw the plan! Even if they were not the Antagonists, these creatures need to die,” said Bart. “Staying in the park after closing time — it is disgusting behavior. The park is closed for a reason. Everyone, we are moving out. We’ll kill them in the park, collect the bodies, take the house to check if there are any others or any clues, and then come back here and get room service.”
The gathered Chimerae who had been standing around the room, many of them asleep, all snapped to attention. The night concierge of the hotel was a trifle startled to receive a request for four taxicabs, but he arranged it with all the aplomb one would expect from an employee of that establishment. He said nothing as twelve people filed by silently, all wearing long coats, and got into the waiting cabs. The last person in a long coat, a sober-looking man with a Dutch accent, slipped him an envelope that contained an insanely large tip.
The cabs deposited the long-coated people at various points around the boundary of Hyde Park. The Chimerae removed their coats to reveal tight black clothing and submachine guns. Four of them had sniper rifles, which they briskly assembled in the shadows.
Upon a whispered instruction over the network from Bart, they all vaulted over the walls of the park and silently converged near the area the Antagonists were occupying. They took up positions a judicious distance from the party, close enough to shoot them but far enough away that their whispered communications could not be heard by even the keenest of ears. Concealed by trees, bushes, and the darkness, they formed a ring around the picnickers, waiting for an order to be given. Everyone had been fully briefed; muscles were limbered up, talons unsheathed, hair retracted, glands primed, tongues armed, and safeties released.
Only Bart remained outside the park while his soldiers surrounded their quarry.
“Marie, it’s almost time,” he said quietly to the air. “I need confirmation of the kill order.”
“I’ve conferred with the graaf, and we’ve agreed,” she said, her voice vibrating in his ear bones. “Execute them. Be sure to bring back their bodies.”
“Understood,” he said. “Chimerae,” he said into the darkness, “this will be a terminal interaction. I repeat, they will be luggage, not guests.” He leapt liquidly over the wall, moved through the trees and the bushes, and wriggled through the grass until he reached his designated position with his team.
It was a job that would call for versatility and improvisation. No one knew what powers the Antagonists could bring to bear. The Chimerae would begin by shooting their prey from a distance, but there was no certainty that these four could be killed by bullets — even the specialized ammunition the Chimerae carried.
No, I expect this will be mainly knife work in the end, thought Bart grimly. And fist, fang, talon, and venom work. He gazed at them for a moment, the lenses of his eyes obediently zooming in, the hand-tooled rods in his retinas cutting through the darkness. He could see their faces as they laughed and drank. They were lovely. They looked like beautiful young people. That’s not what they really look like, he told himself. Those aren’t their real faces. As he watched, they seemed to glow faintly in the night.
“Chimerae, every second soldier, identify your proposed target,” he whispered. In the event that the Antagonists were not brought down by gunfire, eight soldiers would go in all at once, two to a target. The others would remain as a fallback perimeter, ready to move in as support or pursue any Antagonists who made a break for it. The troops reported which Antagonists they would target.
“On my mark, open fire.”
“Three.”
“Two.”
“O —”
“All right,” one of the picnickers called. “We surrender!”
Bart froze.
“Wait,” said Marie’s voice in the head of every Chimera, warning them to keep weapons trained on the targets.
“We know you’re out there,” said one of the male Antagonists. They were all standing except for the white female, who was still lounging on the blanket. “You’ve got us surrounded. It’s over. We give up.”
“Thoughts?” asked Marie, this time only in Bart’s ear.
“I don’t like it,” said Bart. “I’ll go forward, but at the first sign of anything, I’m opening fire.”
“Understood,” said Marie.
“If anything happens to me, command shifts to Amanda.”
“Understood,” said Amanda. “And my first order will be to kill them.”
Bart stood up and walked forward out of the gloom, his gun at the ready. The Antagonists turned to watch him.
“Congratulations, you tracked us down,” the taller man said. Bart wondered if he was the one who had killed the people in the restaurant and then spent all that time standing outside the delegation’s hotel. Sander could probably have told him, but the tracker was out there in the darkness, watching, waiting for the signal.
“Obey every order,” said Bart. “You will receive no second chances. Now lie down on the ground and put your hands on your heads.”
“Yes, well, we’ve changed our minds,” said the Asian woman. She was dressed in boots and a red velvet minidress that looked as if it had come from the 1960s. “We’re not surrendering at all.”
“Kill them now!” shouted Bart. But none of the Chimerae, not even him, could move a muscle. It was as if their bodies had been encased in steel. Bart could not even blink. They were like statues.