'Francisco 'Pistols' Scaramanga,' Karl said immediately. ' The Man with the Golden Gun, 1974. Christopher Lee played him. Based on the last of the Bond novels that Ian Fleming wrote, before those other hacks started doing them. Movie was okay, but the book kind of sucked. Fleming was just going through the motions by then, rehashed a lot of stuff he'd done already. He died soon after.'
Karl is the biggest James Bond nut I've ever met, or even heard of. He's got the books, the DVDs, soundtrack albums, movie posters, and even – as he once admitted, after swearing me to secrecy – the complete set of 007 action figures.
I'd only asked the James Bond question to postpone dealing with the fact that we probably had some kind of nut/wizard/serial killer operating in town, using each murder as an ingredient in some kind of elaborate spell to accomplish a goal that I couldn't even imagine.
I was about to say as much when my email pinged, announcing a new message. I checked the address, to see whether it was worth reading.
The message had come from Vollmanex@aol. com.
Son of a bitch.
I understand there has been another killing that seems relevant to our matter of mutual concern. Is my information correct?
Vollman.
'Wonder how he knew we'd be here?' Karl asked.
'The old bastard seems to know everything – except how we're gonna clear this case,' I said.
I clicked 'Reply,' typed 'You bet it is,' and sent it.
Less than a minute later I was reading, Do you have AOL Instant Messenger, or something similar? If so, what is your screen name?
'Why do I feel weird about doing IM with a vampire?' I said out loud. 'I mean, what would Dracula say about this shit?'
'Probably, 'I vant to haf a chaaat vith you… in real time,'' Karl said, doing a pretty fair Bela Lugosi.
I sent Vollman my AOL identification. After a few seconds, the computer made that annoying zziiiing sound, and a chat window opened.
Inside the window was ' VollWiz: Are we connected? ' The rest of the conversation (if you can call it that) went like this:
Supecop1: Yes, I'm here.
VollWiz: Does this latest murder bear similarities to the first one?
Supecop1: Some. There was cryptic stuff carved into the victim's chest.
VollWiz: The same as last time?
Supecop1: No, different symbols. Looks like the same alphabet, though.
Vollwiz: Can you send me a copy?
Supecop1: My keyboard doesn't have the symbols. I doubt they make a keyboard that does.
About half a minute went by. Then:
Vollwiz: Do you have a text scanner available?
I knew what Vollman was getting at, and it annoyed me that I hadn't thought of it myself.
I pulled my notebook out and found the page where I'd copied the message found on Willbrand's corpse. Handing it to Karl, I said, 'Do me a favor and run the scanner over this, will you? Put it on a thumb drive for me.'
'Right,' he said, took the notebook, and headed out room. I turned back to the keyboard and typed:
Supecop1: I should be sending that to you shortly.
VollWiz: Very well. Now, as to cause of death: I have heard it was a gunshot. Can you confirm that?
Supecop1: Where do you get your information, anyway?
Vollwiz: Please, Sergeant – let us not waste each other's time.
I stared at the screen while trying hard to keep control of myself. I didn't have to take shit like that from some bloodsucker, even if he was also a wizard.
By the same token, telling Vollman to go fuck himself wasn't going to get these cases cleared.
It would sure be fun, though.
I took in a deep breath, and let it out slow.
Supecop1: Yeah, he died of a gunshot wound. If you know that, I guess you know he was one of you… people.
Vollwiz: If you mean he was undead, yes, I was aware of that. May I assume that the bullet that killed him was silver?
Supecop1: No, you may not. Lab report says the slug was made of charcoal. It's like he was trying to barbecue the guy from inside. You ever hear of that?
Vollwiz: In fact, I believe I have.
Supecop1: I thought I was pretty well up on the ways to kill a vampire.
At the last second, I'd added 'ire' to that last word. Some vamps don't like being called vamps.
Vollwiz: I'm sure you are, Sergeant. And this method of murder is not inconsistent with the knowledge you possess. Consider: what IS charcoal, anyway?
I figured out what he was getting at in about three seconds, then spent another ten feeling stupid.
Supecop1: Charcoal's super-compressed wood, isn't it? Wood – as in wooden stakes.
Vollwiz: Exactly. It is an uncommon method to kill one of my kind, but effective. As you have seen yourself.
Supecop1: Yeah, I guess I have.
Vollwiz: Have there been any other developments in the case?
Supecop1: Yeah. I may have a name for the perp. I guess you could call that a new development. It's hard to be sarcastic online. Unfortunately.
Vollwiz: Indeed? That is most interesting. Congrat ulations.
Supecop1: Don't pop any corks just yet. There's no way to know for sure whether it's our guy, but I like him for it. From what I hear, he's: 1. a wizard. 2. new in town. 3. acting secretive – pretending to be somebody else, etc.
Vollwiz: I agree, he sounds like a promising candidate. What is his name?
Supecop1: Calls himself Sligo.
No response. I watched the empty screen for a while, then typed:
Supecop1: You still there?
Still no answer. I was starting to wonder whether the connection had been broken, when this appeared:
Vollwiz: Are you absolutely certain?
Supecop1: Certain that's the guy? Hell, no. Certain that's what my informant told me? Yeah, I'm sure, since I don't have wax in my ears, oranything.
Karl appeared over my shoulder, holding a thumb drive. I attached it to the computer, downloaded the file, then sent it to Vollman's email address as an attachment.
Supecop1: I just sent the file with the symbols I copied from our latest vic. It's pretty accurate, I think.
I waited. Nothing, for maybe two minutes, then this appeared:
VollWiz: I will be in touch with you later.
Then the chat connection was broken.
'Motherfucker,' I heard Karl mutter from behind me.
'Yeah, I know,' I said. 'But at least he's given us a way to find out where he hangs his cloak, and that's something we've been wanting to know.'
I looked up the customer service number for AOL and called them. It took the better part of an hour to find a supervisor with the authority to look up a customer's mailing address, and to convince her that I had the authority to ask for it.
Finally, I heard her say, 'Very well, Sergeant. What is the email address you have?'
'It's V-o-l-l-m-a-n-e-x at aol. com.'
I heard her keyboard clacking in the background. Then silence. Then more clacking, followed by another stretch of silence.
