SNAP: The World Unfolds

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Josef had set the conference room with carafes of water, bottles of Bull’s Blood, glasses, cups and an urn of tea.  A large flat-screen was mounted on one wall with an array of electronics shelved below it.  This time, the Baron sat on one side, with Pen at his right hand, and Jean-Louis led me to a chair across the table and firmly seated himself next to me.  The rest of them took seats and the Baron announced, “Alright, the meeting of Kandesky Holdings will come to order.”

Kandesky Holdings?  Apparently, this was some parent company of SNAP Enterprises.  I’d thought SNAP was the corporate name.  What else was there?

“By now, I’m sure you’ve all met Maxmilla Gwenoch, the new ME of SNAP Magazine, right?” He nodded in my direction and I held up a hand and feebly waved.  “For her sake, and because she’s the second subject of this meeting, I’ll do a quick run-through.”  He clicked a button and a slide appeared on the screen.

Kandesky Holdings held a lot.  The primary company was SNAP Enterprises, which was the television show with productions, the magazines and a syndication department.  There was also Baron Ranches, a subsidiary that raised cattle in Hungary, the US and Argentina.  There was a land development company, Castle Keep, with holdings in Europe and the US. There was Viper Airways, a charter plane company that specialized in “unusual” transportation.  There was something called “Clinque du Lac,” which I guessed was medical.  And finally, there was BK Catering, a “food service” company.

“As you see, Maxie, we cover a broad swathe of services, much of it directly related to our family.  The past centuries have taught us that we must be self-sufficient and only interact with regulars in ways that we control.  Our commercial enterprises, specifically SNAP, are closely held and there are no regulars on the board.  You are one of the highest-placed regulars, which is why you’re at this meeting.  Your presence has upset the Huszars and we need to deal with that.  First, though, there’s Pen,” and he turned to the beautiful woman beside him.  Tonight she was in a deep red gown that looked like fresh blood against the pallor of her skin.  She smiled with her mouth closed and regally nodded.

“I know that it’s hard to take me out of circulation.  If I’m gone too long, we have to build me up again.   But not long enough and people will start to compare my pictures.  I’ve suggested to the Baron that five years away should be enough.”

This wasn’t my bailiwick so I didn’t venture an opinion.  Was five years enough?  I knew photo editors who had memories a lot longer than that.  She was distinctive, plus the name.

Clearing his throat, the Baron began, “I think we may need to do things differently.  Many of you have had fun, and a long run, at changing places every few years.  But with 24/7 news, instant communications, global interest, people are likely to remember you.  And if they don’t actively remember, there are reruns, late night movies, online blogs and chats, conspiracy theories.  Some one, somewhere, is apt to see an old picture and begin to ask questions.

“We could manage a few off-the-wall conspiracies, but there’s no sense putting SNAP in jeopardy.”  He turned to Pen.  “I’m afraid, my dear, that we need to start with you.  We need to make your retirement permanent. If you go gracefully, then everyone else will follow when it’s their turn.  With plastic surgery and the health industry helping keep regulars looking the same for several years, then we can be in the limelight between thirty and forty years.  But we can no longer recyle ourselves.”

A chorus of dissent started.  The Baron raised his hand to instant silence.  “It doesn’t mean that we have to give up working for SNAP Holdings, or doing other things we love.  It simply means that we can no longer be the celebrities.  If any of us miss it, we have hours and hours and miles and miles of film and video we can watch of ourselves.  After all, we’ve all had a lot more salad days than anybody else has!”

At this, there was a ripple of laughter and a general murmur of assent.  The Baron nodded firmly.  “Next item...,” and I was a pinned butterfly with thirteen vampires looking at me.

“I know you’ve all heard about the little fracas last night,” he started and there were nods around the table.  I wasn’t sure I would have referred to last night as a “little fracas,” since it was my neck involved.  “This was the second attempt on Maxie.  She was also attacked in the parking garage at SNAP right before they left L.A.  I’m disturbed at the attacks and want to know why.  Why Maxie?  Why now?  Any theories or suggestions?”

The room hummed with murmured voices.  “Do we know for sure it was the Huszars?” Carola asked.

“Last night, the attackers were actually members of the next-door neighbor’s family,” the Baron said drily.  There were snickers around the table.  Living next to the Huszar family for hundreds of years hadn’t made for any better relations, apparently.  I wondered if I could find what had started the feud or if it was buried in all of the vampire myths from this part of the world.

“In the Los Angeles attack, I don’t know if they were Huszars or hired goons.  One of them was killed and the other got away.  The dead one didn’t have any identification on him.  All we know is that he was a vampire.  One of Sandor’s men killed him.”

This was my first exposure to vampire killings and I had a lot of questions.  The Baron had talked about peasants using stakes in the past, Lisbet and her family wore crosses and some of the other castle staff smelled—reeked—of garlic.  But other vampires wouldn’t wear crosses or garlic and wooden stakes weren’t much available; hard to carry around and use.  Jean-Louis saw my eyebrows wrinkling and said, “All of the security demons carry silenced Sig Saurers or Glocks with special adaptations for our own ammunition.  We have a factory in the CzechRepublic that makes silver bullets.”

“How do they manage to carry that kind of weapon?” I asked.  “Don’t they ever get stopped?”

“Stopped by whom?”  Jean-Louis asked.

“I don’t know, cops, airport security, metal detectors?”

A spate of laughter spread through the room.

“You’re showing your naïveté as a regular,” Francois was laughing so hard he started coughing. Gregor reached over and slapped him on the back—harder than he needed to, I thought—and Francois hiccupped a couple of times and wiped his eyes.

I didn’t think my questions were that funny.  I guessed I hit some nerve.

“Did you have to go through airport security?”  Jean-Louis looked at me, his right eyebrow arcing.

My mouth imitated a perfect “O” as the light dawned.  Everybody who worked with the Baron flew Viper Airways when they needed to, which used private airports with a minimum of security checks.  Guns and silver bullets were only part of the different baggage.   There was also blood, often a lot of blood, transported.  Since the Kandesky family had foresworn killing humans regularly for food, they had to carry around all their food with them.

Jean-Louis gave me a quiet smile and turned his attention back to the topic on the table, me.

“They do seem to be more active since Maxie arrived,” Carola’s quiet dignity silenced the remains of snickering at my gaffe.  “Maybe they’re looking to kidnap her.”

“But for what purpose?’  Bela’s hands waved circles in the air.  “What could they possibly hope to get from her?  We know they’re trying to compete with us, but she won’t be useful to them until they actually have a product ready to go.”

It wasn’t exactly a snide putdown, but I felt the undercurrent of distain.  I was a regular doing a job that supervised vampires.  I had been included in much of their business and, with this trip, was now privy to all of their secrets.  Some of them were still uneasy at the trust that the Baron and his closest advisers continued to put in me.

“She knows us, now.”  the Baron said, leaning over to a crystal ashtray to stub out his cigar.  “She may not have all of our secrets, but what she does know would give the Huszars a leg up on taking us over.”

He turned to me. “Maybe we need to give you a little background.”