Johnson came up the stairs and said, “Everything all right?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“But you still can’t tell me who did this? Or why? It really would help me an awful lot if you could give me an inkling.”
I knew who had done it. There wasn’t any doubt. I knew why they had done it, too. An early-morning bus full of dozy shift-workers must have looked like a mobile feast to Duca and his strigoi vii. I guessed that they had planned to take it someplace secluded and drink the blood of everybody on board. At 5:30 in the morning, there would have been few people around to disturb them.
I went downstairs again and took another look around. Then I climbed off the bus and walked around to the driver’s cab. The driver was a balding man in his early fifties, with a hand-rolled cigarette tucked behind his ear. He was slumped forward over his steering wheel with his eyes closed, as if he had simply nodded off. The sliding door to his cab was marked with seven or eight fresh scratches, some of which had gone right through the red paint to the bare aluminum underneath. It looked as if a Screecher had tried to get into the cab, stabbing at the door in frustration.
I was still examining the cab when Jill arrived, with Bullet. Today she was wearing a yellow blouse and natural-colored slacks, and no makeup. She had probably had to come down here at very short notice, as I had.
“Good morning,” she said, in a hushed voice, looking at the bus.
“Not for these folks.”
“They told me seventeen. It’s dreadful.”
“Yes. But the Screechers didn’t get the chance to do what they wanted to do.”
“What was that?”
“I’m pretty sure that they were trying to commandeer the bus so that they could take the passengers someplace and drink them dry. But it looks like the driver saw what was happening inside his bus and panicked.” I pointed up at the railroad bridge. “I don’t think he did this deliberately. He was probably trying to go for some help.”
“Wait a minute. they were trying to commandeer the bus? You mean Screechers can drive?”
“Of course they can. Screechers are no different than they were before they were infected. They can drive, they can use telephones, they can do anything. The strigoi virus affects people’s bodies and it snuffs out their soul, but it doesn’t affect their memory, or their intellect, or any of their practical skills.”
“I didn’t realize. I mean, when you think of vampires you can’t help thinking medieval, can you? You know, castles and horse-drawn carriages and things like that.”
“Why don’t you let Bullet here take a sniff around the bus? There’s some officious detective called Johnson in there, but don’t let him bother you.”
“OK. I’ll call for help if he starts being too bossy.”
One of the bobbies lifted the tarpaulin for her. Bullet jumped on to the bus and she followed him. “Pretty girl,” the bobby remarked, as I walked past him. I didn’t say anything. I was married to Louise, and I had always thought of myself as faithful. But I was surprised how pleased I had been when Jill had turned up.
I rejoined Charles Frith and Terence.
“Got everything you need?” said Charles Frith, peering at his wristwatch. “I must get back to Town by twelve thirty. Lunch with the minister, for my sins.”
“Jill — Miss Foxley — she’s seeing if she can pick up a trail.”
“Do we know exactly what went on here?”
“Attempted hijack, most likely”
“ ‘Hijack,’ eh?” Charles Frith seemed to like the American sound of that. “ ‘Hijack.’ Mm. Well, keep me informed.”
Inspector Ruddock came over, looking hot and cross. “There’s some press boys wanting to know what’s happened. And they say they’d like some pictures, too.”
“Tell them that somebody on the bus was infected with the Korean flu, and collapsed. The driver tried to take the bus to the nearest hospital and misjudged the low bridge. Everybody else on the bus has been quarantined, just to be on the safe side. You’ll give them have a fuller statement later.”
“Oh, I will, will I?” said Inspector Ruddock, aggressively. “And what will I tell them then?”
Charles Frith patted the silver pips on his shoulder. “I’ll let you know after lunch. Now I really must dash. Can’t keep the minister waiting.”
Beneath the Trees
Bullet spent over fifteen minutes sniffing around the bus, downstairs and up. When Jill emerged from the tarpaulin she looked pale and upset.
“I’ve never seen anything like that before. That was too horrible for words.”
“Are you OK?” Her hair was damp with perspiration and I lifted a strand of it out of her eyes. “Do you want a drink of water or anything?”
“No, I’m all right. It’s the way that they’re just sitting there.”
Bullet looked up at me and barked, twice.
“I really think he’s getting to like me.”
“Actually he’s warning you not to get too close.”
“Oh. Sorry. Sorry, boy. Do you think he’ll ever get to like me?”
Jill smiled. “Once he gets to know you better, I’m sure he will.”
“OK, then,” I said, “does he have a trail for us to follow?”
“Yes, he does, and I think it’s quite strong.”
I called out to Terence. “Terence! We’re going Screecher-hunting. You want to go get your car?”
“Oh! OK, then! Righty-ho!”
Jill and I walked along the crown of the road, trying to keep up with Bullet, while Terence crept along behind us in his Humber.
Although the sky was cloudless, we could hear distant collisions of thunder, and the lime trees along the avenue began to rustle uneasily. After only ten minutes we reached the entrance to a large public park, where there was a tarmacadam parking lot surrounded by giant elms.
“What’s the betting the Screechers were planning on bringing the bus here?” I asked Jill. There was a bus stop close, only ten yards away, for numbers 403 and 403a, so the bus would normally have passed this way.
Bullet hesitated and lifted his head. He sniffed in several different directions, as if he couldn’t make up his mind which way to go.
“I think they must have split up somewhere here,” said Jill. She took the scarflike piece of linen out of her purse and held it in front of Bullet’s nose to refresh his memory. Bullet immediately galloped through the entrance to the park and crossed the parking lot until he reached the trees on the far side. There he stopped again, and barked.
“He’s confused,” said Jill. “He can still smell something, but it’s different.”
We led Bullet up and down the parking lot for over ten minutes. Every now and then he lifted his head and sniffed the air, but the strong scent that he had been following from the bus seemed to come to an end here, very abruptly.
“You know what this means?” I said. “The strigoi have a car. Or even cars plural.”
“That’s going to make things damned awkward,” said Terence, mopping his face with his handkerchief. “How can we follow them if they’re driving around in bloody cars?”
I got down on one knee and opened up my Kit. Bullet snuffled around me suspiciously while I took out my compass and opened up the silver-filigree cover.