Suckers

'Oh,' I said.

'You can see where this is leading? Oh yes, we have an enormously touching romantic triangle here, with a baby in the middle. The husband gets on well with the elder of the women, though he has not yet found out she is more than just a family friend, and that his wife has at last been initiated, shortly after the birth of their son, into the mysteries of the inhuman condition. When he does find this out, many years later, it will be a disaster, and neither husband nor wife will survive the discovery. These Fenders, you know, they are ugly people, with ugly tempers. And so the elder woman will be left sorrowful and bereaved, and she will have nothing left to live for, even though she knows she must live for ever. And she will naturally turn to the sole surviving child of the union, and in time she will naturally conceive of the idea that the child will one day take his mother's place.'

'Oh,' I said again.

'And what do you suppose has happened in the meantime to the cute little orphan baby with the curly blond hair?'

'I think I can guess.'

'Cheers,' said Grauman, raising his glass once more. He took a mouthful and I heard him sucking the champagne through the gaps in his teeth. He gazed at me with the sort of wide-eyed expression affected by politicians when they are trying to appear sincere. 'He is now the right age. She will shortly be presenting to him everything that has always been due to me. So you understand why I would like him out of the picture.'

'And you can't kill him.'

Grauman breathed in sharply. 'He is the last thing standing between her and eternity, the link to her lost humanity. If I were stupid enough to harm a hair of his head, I would be torn to pieces. At the very least, I would lose everything for which I have been waiting so patiently all these years. However…' He fished in his jacket pocket, and came up with a fat envelope. 'This might solve all our problems.'

I took the envelope and opened it. Inside were two air tickets to Orly, and a thick wad of five-hundred-franc notes.

'I've never been to Paris,' I said.

'Well, this is your chance. You will find there is a room booked in your name. At the Crillon. No payment is necessary.'

I examined the tickets carefully, holding them up to the light. The flight was due to leave at eleven o'clock the following night. 'This isn't Heathrow?'

'Heathrow will not be such a great place to be, tomorrow night. Believe me, you will find the City Airport a lot easier. I shall arrange for a limousine to pick you up and take you there. All you need are passports.'

'What if she comes after us?'

'She won't,' said Grauman. 'There is too much at stake — if you will pardon the pun. Rotnacht is scheduled to begin at midnight tomorrow, and she will be required to co-ordinate the media coverage. It is very important. She cannot leave. The backers saw her through the last crisis because they needed her, but they will not indulge her weakness a second time.'

I studied the air tickets for some time, trying to work out the downside to this offer, then finally decided that perhaps there wasn't one and slipped them into my bag.

Grauman suddenly reached across and grabbed my hand. This time, though, instead of ramming his thumb into my palm, he stroked it tenderly with his forefinger. The gesture seemed so intimate it was obscene. I pulled away in alarm and embarrassment.

'You must get that seen to,' he said. 'It is dangerous for you to be out on the streets like this. The garlic will not be enough.'

'I'll be all right,' I said, sounding more confident than I felt.

Grauman stared into his drink for a bit, biting his lip, then appeared to make up his mind. He dug deep into an inside pocket and this time produced a small gun with a pearl handle.

I gaped. 'Where did you get that?'

'I have many contacts,' he said. 'I want you to take it, for protection. You know how to fire it? Just squeeze the trigger, like so.' The hammer clicked on an empty chamber, which was just as well because the barrel was pointing straight at me. I took it away from him and examined it closely, intrigued. This was the second real gun I'd seen in two days.

'But what's the point?' I said eventually. 'Guns don't make a blind bit of difference to vampires. You can fill them full of lead, and they'll still keep coming at you.'

'Lead, maybe,' said Grauman. 'But silver bullets…' He held his fist out in front of me and opened it, like a magician demonstrating the last stages of a marvellous trick. Nestling in his palm were three acorn-shaped nuggets of silver. He slotted them into a small metal cartridge. 'I have only three,' he said, 'so you must use them carefully.'

I watched him carefully. 'Don't be ridiculous. You've got your monsters mixed up.'

He nudged me playfully on the chin. 'So Dora believes everything she sees in the movies?'

'Silver bullets are for werewolves. Everyone knows that,'

'And Dora believes in… werewolves?' He was trying to suppress a smile.

I thought about it. If vampires existed, why not werewolves? Why not unicorns, or Martians? 'Probably not,' I said, 'but these days I like to keep an open mind.'

'You will forgive me for saying so, but I know more than you. I have spent a lifetime studying. How can I convince you about this? The werewolf and vampire share the same origins in Eastern Europe. Somewhere along the line, the folk tales split into two. All the things you thought applied to lycanthropes — well, some of them apply to vampires too, and vice versa. Now take this — you may need it. If someone tries to stop you tomorrow…'

'You mean if Violet tries…'

'No!' he said. 'Don't even think about that. If you shoot Violet, it will be a disaster for all of us, and you will never reach the airport. But you will not need to shoot Violet, because she will not be coming after you. But she may send others — I don't know. And there are the loose cannons, these promiscuous types — they don't care who or what they bite.'

A look of revulsion crossed his face. 'There are many changes we must make, once Rotnacht has taken place.'

I watched as he slipped the cartridge into the hollow handle of the gun. 'What if I'm not a very good shot?'

'You don't need to be. These are.22 bullets, very small calibre. From a distance they are useless, but with the gun held so…' He placed the barrel, very carefully, against the side of my head. I froze, not daring to breathe.

'…you will not miss.'

Chapter 4

It was after midnight when we climbed into the back of the Double Image van, and by then we'd polished off the best part of another bottle of champagne. I felt aggressively optimistic; everything was going to be all right. I couldn't see who was driving, but Grauman said they were going to pick someone up in W11 and it made sense to set me down at the same time. I tried to peer out of the small tinted windows, but we were bouncing around so much it wasn't easy, and Grauman kept distracting me by chatting and offering cigarettes. I caught myself thinking that maybe he wasn't so bad after all — but this was going too far, and I gave myself a mental slap on the wrist.