Darcy pulled a wry face. 'Actually, my "offices" aren't looking any too hot right now,' he said. 'But certainly I'll give it a try.' He looked at Harry. 'So where are you two off to now? Or shouldn't I ask?'
'You shouldn't ask - ' Harry answered. ' - but I'll tell you anyway: we're tracking your serial killer. I sort of got hooked up on it. That's the job I want finished before I move on.'
Darcy nodded. 'That way you'll leave a clean sheet behind you, Harry, which is the way it should be. You'll always be the right sort of legend: famous instead of infamous.'
Harry said nothing. Fame, even infamy, didn't concern him. All that mattered was his obsession. What was more, he knew why it had become an obsession. He was being chased off his territory, forced to vacate his very own world, which he had fought for. Not physically driven out - not yet, anyway - but soon. And the vampire, especially one of the Wamphyri, is tenacious and territorial. Frustrated almost beyond endurance, Harry was fighting back. But if he must take it out on someone, then at least let that someone be a fiend in his own right. Namely, the serial killer, the necromancer, the torturer of Penny and those other poor innocents. Even Pamela Trotter, innocent, yes. Compared to him, anyway.
It was time Harry and Trevor Jordan were on their way. They said the usual farewells, very simply, and Harry told Jordan to close his eyes again. Darcy Clarke watched them go and when they were no longer there held out his trembling hand into the space where they'd passed through a Möbius door into nothing.
And that was all he found there.
Nothing...
2
Finding Johnny
In Edinburgh it would soon be dawn, but Harry Keogh knew that things - all sorts of things - were rapidly coming to a head and he wasn't nearly ready to ease off now. Now that he'd started this job his one thought was to get it finished. In darkness or, if needs be, in light.
Early-summer sunlight would be a problem from now on in, but it was more an inconvenience than a threat proper. The sun wouldn't kill him - not yet, anyway - but taken in large doses it would sicken and weaken him. His glasses helped keep its glare out of his eyes; his floppy hat protected his head and face but was a dead giveaway; he must keep his hands in his pockets for long periods, which gave him the slovenly look of a delinquent youth or a Labour politician but was absolutely necessary. Only the British weather, almost invariably mean, was on his side. Trevor Jordan, on the other hand, suffered no such restrictions and could come and go as he pleased; and with Harry's help, go as far as he pleased and instantly.
In the Necroscope's Bonnyrig house they drank coffee (Harry would prefer good red wine but needed a re-supply), and split the list of Frigis Express depots down the middle. They would work through them alphabetically until they found what they were looking for. Jordan would take the day shift with Harry supplying the transport; Harry would do nights with Jordan for lookout. The telepath had asked what was the big deal with this job and Harry had showed him a series of vivid mind-pictures taken from Penny Sanderson and Pamela Trotter, and now Jordan was as eager as he was. There was a monster loose in the world and he had to die.
'There'll be night watchmen on these places, I'm sure,' Jordan said, studying his half of the list, 'but at this hour of the morning they'll be kipping off: asleep in some secret corner. We could do a few depots right now, before the drivers or packers or whatever get in.'
The bloke we're after is a driver,' Harry said. 'He uses the Ml and possibly the Al or A7. Maybe we should start with depots close to those major routes.'
Jordan had been glancing through the files on the murdered girls. Penny's report seemed to interest him greatly. Ignoring what the Necroscope had just said, he asked, 'Harry, did you know Penny's body was found in the gardens under the Castle's walls?'
Harry frowned. 'Yes. Is that significant?'
'It could be,' the other answered. 'There are quite a few small, specialized units housed in the Castle. For all we know our man from Frigis delivered meat to the various messes and cookhouses that night, and when the coast was clear he bundled Penny over the wall.'
Harry nodded. 'I'll check out the exact spot where she was found. I remember looking over the wall. There are places where it rears over grassy ledges and steep banks, where the drop is only a few feet and if she fell - or was tossed - her body might slip and slither a bit without breaking anything or suffering any real damage. Because apart from the damage and suffering he had caused her, she wasn't in bad shape.' His gaunt face had turned angry as he remembered Penny as she had been the first time he saw her. Shaking his head to dismiss the memory, he growled. 'Anyway, I'll look at it. If it seems at all likely or even possible... well, it could be you've narrowed down the field a little. Thanks, Trevor.' And then, ruefully: 'As you can see, I'd never have made the grade as a detective, or even a common or garden policeman!'
'Listen,' Jordan told him. 'You drop me off in Edinburgh right now and let me follow it up. Let's face it, you've been seen up in the Castle. People may remember you. But they don't know me. I'll take this file with me. I still have an old E-Branch identity card I picked up fromthe flat. It's as good as a policeman's uniform for getting me into places to gather information. Then, while I concentrate on this end of the job, you can get on with checking out the list of depots.'
Harry saw the sense of it. 'All right,' he said. 'And we'll meet back here tonight. Meanwhile, we can easily contact each other if anything breaks. But you have to understand that the sun hampers me. It might stop me getting through to you or you to me. On the other hand, if the day is dull everything will be OK. The only thing is...' He paused uncertainly.
'Yes?' Jordan waited.
'You'll be on your own,' the Necroscope continued. 'If the Branch decides to move on me, they'll be picking my friends up, too.'
'But picking them up' Jordan repeated him. 'Not picking them off! And anyway, Darcy said he'd take care of that.'
Harry nodded. 'But he can't take care of the fact that I'm a vampire. And you know the Branch won't be taking any chances, Trevor. In fact I'd lay you odds that my warrant has already been issued, and that right now they're busy closing off any boltholes. For now... they'll probably lay off this place, because it's mine and I know it better than they do. But sooner or later even this house of mine won't be safe. Hell, it would be the perfect place to settle with me! Out of the way, alone and lonely.'
'Morbid's not the way to go, Harry,' the other told him. 'Let's for now just try to find this Johnny, right? Plenty of time then to sort the rest of it.' And the Necroscope knew he was right. All except the plenty of time part...
The following morning, the Minister Responsible called Darcy Clarke in to E-Branch HQ. When Clarke walked into what had once been his office, the Minister was seated at his old desk... and Geoffrey Paxton was standing in one corner of the room, arms folded across his chest and with his back to the reinforced glass windows. Clarke could do without Paxton picking at his mind, but he was no longer in a position to complain about it.
After apparently casual nods of greeting or acknowledgement, the Minister remarked how ragged Clarke looked; to which he replied, 'I was up late. In fact I'd just managed to snatch an hour or two when your office called to arrange this meeting. Well, that was good, for I was coming in anyway. You see, last night I had a couple of visitors. Except I'm afraid you're not much likely to believe me when I tell you who one of them was.'
Paxton spoke up at once. 'We know who they were, Clarke,' he said, sourly. 'Harry Keogh and Trevor Jordan -vampires!'