Tremayne stared at him, utterly confused. "I can make no sense of that, sir.”
"Can't you? There is only one possible answer to it all. The Green Dragon has been deeply involved in these events, possibly since their very beginning, and they have known far more than we have all along."
"What does it all mean?" Tremayne said.
"I wish to God I knew," said Grayson, frustrated. "Almost from the beginning, I have had the certain feeling that there was a great deal more to this case than met the eye. I continually had a sense that there were other presences involved. First these American scholars, who are clearly not involved in scholarship, but something far more complex and mysterious, to the extent that at least three of them were posing as British subjects-two as newspaper reporters and one right under our very noses in the crime lab! And now we learn that the Green Dragon is involved! Why? We have stumbled onto some sort of fantastically complicated plot,
Tremayne, but to what end?"
"Perhaps we need more men,” Tremayne said nervously.
"I wish I had an entire regiment with me," said Grayson, "but I fear there is no time to summon any reinforcements. Clearly, it was intended that I should be here now, in this precise place and at this very moment, but for what reason has yet to become apparent."
He looked around uneasily.
"The streets appear unusually deserted," he said, "even for this desolate part of town and for this late hour. Yet, I have the strongest intuition that we are not alone. There are unseen forces all around us. I can almost feel it. as a palpable tension in the very air!''
'
Tremayne glanced at him fearfully. "What are we to do, then?"
"You have your watch?" said Grayson.
"Right here."
"Good. Wait here for me. And watch yourself. If you hear me blow my whistle, you had best come running. Otherwise, if I have not returned within ten minutes, go for help."
"Where are you going?"
"Where it is apparently intended I should go," said Grayson. "To have a look around inside that warehouse."
13
They ran through the narrow subterranean corridor, stumbling in the dark over soft, furry shapes that squealed in protest and snapped at their shoes, but neither man gave any thought to the rats as they fled. They ran blindly in the dark, their hands held out before them, hearing behind them the howling of the creatures released from their dungeon cells and the crashing of glass and equipment as they destroyed the underground laboratory.
Stoker grunted with pain as he fell forward onto the stairs leading up to the great hall of the castle and Conan Doyle dragged him to his feet, hooking his arm around him.
Hurry, man! We must flee for our very lives!"
They half ran, half stumbled up the damp stone steps, feeling their way along the slimy wall in the darkness. Behind them, the inhuman screaming sounded terrifyingly closer. At last, they reached the door at the top of the steps and threw it open. Gasping for breath, they lunged through it and then slammed it shut, throwing their weight against it.
"The bolt!" said Doyle. "Quickly, throw the bolt!" "It's stuck!" said Stoker.
Doyle added his strength to that of Stoker's and the iron bolt shot home.
"That should hold them!" Stoker said.
"I would not wish to stake my life on it." said Doyle. breathing hard. "I shall not feel safe until we're gone from this accursed place!"
"But how?" said Stoker. "How do we get hack home?"
"Steady, old friend,” said Doyle. "One problem at a time. We are not safe yet. Quickly, we must find our way out of this place."
They started to run across the great hall when a deep, reverberant voice cried out. ''Stand where vou are!"
Startled, both men stopped in the center of the great hall. Drakov stood above them on the curved stairway, with Jasmine and Moreau.
"Who are you?" said Conan Doyle.
"The question, sir, is who are you." said Drakov, "and how did you get here?"
Before they could reply, the door to the stairway leading down to the dungeon splintered and broke and the hall became filled with the howling screams of the creatures from the dungeons. Drakov's head jerked towards them as they streamed out into the great hall and in that moment. Jasmine's foot whipped out and kicked the laser from his hand. They grappled for a moment and then Drakov shoved her away from him. She fell into Moreau and they both tumbled down the stairs.
“ STOP!” S houted Drakov.
The creatures all fell silent instantly and stopped where they were, staring up at him fearfully.
"My God. Arthur," Stoker said, as they backed slowly away from the suddenly immobile creatures. "Look how they watch him!"
"With the manner of whipped dogs," said Doyle. "Whoever this man is, he is obviously their master. And our fate is entirely in his hands.”
"Dear God, Nikolai," Moreau said, staring at the creatures who cowered before Drakov. "What have you done'?"
"I would not advise anyone to move," said Drakov. "Moreau, I will thank you to retrieve my laser and return it to me, otherwise I will have them tear those men to pieces right before your eyes. Remember. I am all that protects you from them now. One word from me and they will attack without mercy."
"Arthur, what do we do?" said Stoker.
"For the moment, it appears that we must stand very still and do whatever that man tells us." Conan Doyle said. "If we triedto run now, they would bring us down before we had run twenty feet.”
"The laser, Moreau," said Drakov. "Now!"
Moreau felt Jasmine tense and he took hold of her firmly. "We must do as he says. he told her.
Together, they went over to where the laser pistol had fallen and Moreau bent down to pick it up. Drakov remained where he was, on the long stairway leading down from the upper floor. Doyle and Stoker stood closeto one another in the center of the great hall, between Drakov and his creatures.
"Look at them!" said Stoker, his voice scarcely above a whisper. "They cannot possibly be human!"
"No. Stoker, Doyle said, staring at the creatures, "I am afraid they are. Only something terrible has been done to them, something beyond all reason. Their minds have snapped, poor devils, and vet this man controls them with a word. He has them mesmerized. It appears that we have found the guiding intelligence behind these awful crimes and he is without a doubt a madman."
"And who are you, sir, to call me mad?" said Drakov. "I repeat my question. What are you doing here and how did you get here?"
"My name is Arthur Conan Doyle and this is Mr. Bram Stoker. As to how we came here, we were rendered unconscious and abducted, brought here against our will by Count Dracula. And now you have the advantage of me, sir. "Indeed I do," said Drakov with a smile. "I admire your composure, Dr. Doyle, but then I would expect no less from the distinguished creator of Sherlock Holmes. My name is Nikolai Drakov. Forgive nit for not having recognized you, but I hardly expected to find you here, of all places. I had heard that you were working with Scotland Yard. Allow me to congratulate you for having come so far. And as for you, Mr. Stoker, your presence here is an exquisite irony. Where is Dracula?"
"It was he who released those wretches from their dungeon cells." said Stoker.
"And has doubtless been torn to pieces for his trouble, the sentimental fool," said Drakov. "What a pity. What a criminal waste. He was my prize, my greatest achievement! You should have seen him, Moreau!”
Moreau raised the laser pistol, but Conan Doyle shouted, — Don't do it, man! Don't be a fool! He is all that holds these murderous creatures in check!"