‘Oh?' said Quint. ‘What did Sergei say?'
‘He said, perhaps Comrade Gerenko feels that he can now afford to be a little slipshod. Perhaps he isn't expecting to see me again in Moscow! And as for you, Carl — we just crossed the border and you're in Russia.'
‘I know,' Quint quietly answered. ‘And I must say, I don't exactly feel at home.'
‘Strangely,' Krakovitch nodded, ‘neither do I!'
Nothing more was said until they reached Chernovtsy.
Chapter Fifteen
Back in London at INTESP HO, Guy Roberts and Ken Layard had traced Alec Kyle, Carl Quint and Yulian Bodescu. The Devon-based team of espers had travelled back to the capital by train, leaving Ben Trask to mend in the Torquay hospital. Having used the journey to catch up on some sleep, they'd got into HO just before midnight. Layard had roughly ‘located' the three figures in question, and Roberts had attempted to scry their whereabouts a little more precisely. Desperation had seemingly honed their talents and the familiarity of their surroundings had helped them to get results — of a sort.
Now Roberts held a briefing: in attendance were Layard, John Grieve, Harvey Newton, Trevor Jordan, and three others who were permanent members of the HO's staff. Roberts was red-eyed, unshaven and itchy; his breath reeked of an endless chain of cigarettes. He glanced around the table and nodded to each man in turn, then got straight into it.
‘We've been trimmed back a bit,' he said, untypically phlegmatic. ‘Kyle and Quint are out of it, perhaps permanently; Trask is banged up a bit; Darcy Clarke's up north, and… and then there's poor Simon Gower. And the result of our outing? Our job isn't only that much harder, it's that much more important! Yes, and we've less men to do it. We could certainly use Harry Keogh now — but Alec Kyle was Keogh's main man, and Alec's not here. And as well as the danger we know exists — out there, loose — there's now a second problem which could be just as big. Namely, the espers of the Soviet E-Branch have got Kyle on ice at the Chateau Bronnitsy.'
This was news to everyone except Layard. Lips tightened and heartbeats stepped up. Ken Layard took up the briefing. ‘We're pretty sure he's there,' he said. ‘I located him — I think — but only with the greatest difficulty. They've got espers blocking everything in there, far more concentrated than we've ever known it before. The place is a mental miasma!'
‘That's a fact,' Roberts nodded. ‘I tried to pinpoint him, get a picture of him — and failed miserably! Just a general mind-smog. Which doesn't bode at all well for Alec. If his being there was all above board, they'd have nothing to hide. Also, he's not supposed to be there at all but here. My guess is, they'll be milking him for all he's worth. And for all we're worth. If I'm cold-blooded about it, believe me it's only to save time.'
‘What about Carl Quint?' John Grieve put the question. ‘How's he faring?'
‘Carl's where he should be,' Layard said. ‘Near as I can make out, in a place called Chernovtsy under the Carpathians. Whether he's there willingly is another matter.'
‘But we think willingly,' Roberts added. ‘I've managed to reach and see him, however briefly, and I think he's with Krakovitch. Which only serves to confuse things further. If Krakovitch is straight up, then why is Kyle in trouble?'
‘And Bodescu?' Newton asked. He now felt he had a personal vendetta with the vampire.
‘That bastard is heading north,' Roberts grimly answered. ‘It could be coincidence, but we don't think so. Ultimately, we think he's after the Keogh child. He knows everything, knows the guiding force behind our organisation. Bodescu has been hit, and now he wants to hit back. The one mind in this entire world which is an authority on vampires — particularly Yulian Bodescu — is housed in that child. That has to be his target.'
‘We don't know how he's travelling,' Layard carried on. ‘Public transport? Could be. He could even be thumbing lifts! But he's certainly not in any sort of hurry. He's just taking it easy, taking his time. He got into Birmingham an hour ago, since when he's been static. We think he's put up for the night. But it's the same story as before:
he exudes this mental swamp. That's what it's like:
groping around in the heart of a foggy swamp; You can't pinpoint him at all, but you know there's a crocodile in there somewhere. At the moment, Birmingham is the centre of it.
‘But do we have any plans?' Jordan couldn't stand the inactivity. ‘I mean, are we going to do something? Or do we just sit here playing with ourselves while everything goes to hell?'
‘There are jobs for everybody.' Roberts held up a huge, controlling hand. ‘First I need a volunteer to go up and help Darcy Clarke in Hartlepool. Apart from a couple of Special Branch men — who are good blokes but simply can't be expected to know what they're on — Darcy's on his own. The ideal thing would be to send a spotter, except we don't have one right now. So it will have to be a telepath.' He looked pointedly at Jordan.
Harvey Newton got in first, however, saying: ‘That's me! I owe Bodescu that much. He got by me last time, but he won't do it again.'
Jordan shrugged and no one else objected. Roberts nodded. ‘OK — but stay sharp! Go now, by car. The roads will be empty, so you should be able to go flat out. Depending on how things go at this end, I'll probably be joining you sometime tomorrow.'
That was all Newton had wanted. He stood up, nodded once to all in general, got on his way. ‘Take a crossbow,' Roberts called after him. ‘And Harvey, next time you 'shoot your bolt' make sure you hit the target!'
‘What's my job?' Jordan asked.
‘You'll work with Mike Carson,' Roberts told him.
‘And with me and Layard. We'll try to locate Quint again, and you telepaths can take a stab at sending to him. It's a long shot, but Quint's a spotter, he's a psychic sensitive; he might just feel you. Your message to him will be simple: if he can he's to get in touch with us. If we can get him on the phone, we can perhaps find out about Kyle. And if he doesn't know about Kyle — well, that in itself will answer one question. Also, if we do manage to contact him, it might be a good idea to tell Quint to get the hell out of there — if and while he can! So that's the four of us tied up for the night.' He looked round the table.
‘The rest of you can concentrate on the proper running of this place before it comes apart at the seams. Every man Jack is on duty full time as of now. Right, are there any questions?'
‘Are we the only ones in on this?' John Grieve asked. ‘I mean, are the public, the authorities, still entirely in the dark?'
‘Totally. What do we tell them — that we're chasing a vampire through the countryside from Devon to British West Hartlepool? Listen, even the people who fund us and know we exist don't wholly believe in us! How do you think they'd react to the facts about Yulian Bodescu? And as for Harry Keogh… of course the public is in the dark about it.'
‘With a single exception, anyway,' said Layard. ‘We've had the police alerted to the fact that there's a mad killer on the loose — Bodescu's description, of course. We've told them he's heading north, possible destination the Hartlepool area. They've been warned that if he's spotted they're not to apprehend him but get in touch with us first, then the Special Branch lads who are up there on the job. As and when Bodescu gets closer to his target, then we'll be more specific. That's as much as we dare do for now.'
Roberts looked from face to face. ‘Any more questions?' he asked. There were none
3.30 A.M. at Brenda Keogh's tiny but immaculate garret flat overlooking the main road through the town and, across the road, an old, old cemetery. Harry Jnr lay in his cot sleeping and dreaming baby dreams, and his father's mind slept with him, exhausted from a struggle he now knew he had no hope of winning. The child had him, it was as simple as that. Harry was the baby's sixth sense.
In the wee small hours of the misty morning, with dawn still half a night away, a thicker mist was forming in slumbering minds, bringing horror as it swirled and eddied in subconscious caverns of dream. And out of nowhere, telepathic fingers were reaching, probing, discovering!
