Necroscope - The Lost Years, Vol II Part 7

And doubtless Radu would probe John's all too eager mind, to see what had gone wrong.

The plan had worked; two days later Auld John had called BJ. at the wine-bar to tell her all was well. But as for 'Him in His high place,' well, he "wasnae verra pleased!' His time was fast approaching, and his resurgence could not be delayed. Come h.e.l.l or high water, BJ.

77.

76.would present the Mysterious One to him when next duty called her to the Cairngorms lair. Which should have been this past weekend.

The three months' reprieve had flown, and despite that the weather had worsened dramatically - and that she was less inclined than ever to part with her Vee man' - there'd seemed no putting it off. But at least (B J. had told herself anxiously) this would only be Harry's initial audience; after that, there would still be six months left before Radu's actual resurgence.

Then, with less than two weeks to go before the scheduled visit, things had started to happen ...

In fact a variety of things had been happening all along, ever since the failed attack of the Drakuls. For just a day or so after the release of the story of a 'fatal Spey Valley accident' in the newspapers, BJ. had been pleased to read how the Home Office had issued expulsion orders on 'several members of an obscure Tibetan religious order, believed to have been engaged in inter-sectarian warfare in the British Isles.' Not only were they being expelled but others of their order - the 'Emissaries of Drakesh' - had been refused entry... This had gone hand in hand with the story of a firefight, and the discovery of weapons and evidence of their use at the scene of what was previously and mistakenly considered a traffic accident It all fitted, especially that reference to these Emissaries of Drakesh. But a religious order? Hah! An order of Drakuls, no less! And in no way engaged in sectarian or any other kind of warfare (not until they had met up with BJ. and Harry Keogh, anyway), but in spying and building up their numbers in advance of the dog- Lord's resurgence! Well at least Radu would now know where to look for them - or for him, 'D.D.', the last of his line. In Tibet.

But if this sneaking Drakul in his far-distant monastery hideaway knew of Radu's imminent return, then what of the Ferenczys? For a long time , even decades, BJ. had suspected that she was being w atched; just as she had watched out for, and on occasion even tried to seek out, others of her own and the dog-Lord's kind. Some years ago she had lost one of her girls, mysteriously vanished in London. Radu's opinion had been that it was the work of Ferenczys, who were seeking him out in antic.i.p.ation of his rising. Since when BJ. had been doubly careful, but not watchful enough. Or perhaps familiarity had bred contempt, and time had worn down her vigilance. It had been Harry Keogh who first brought to her attention the fact of a secret observer, the little man she had told the Inspector about For on Harry's first visit to BJ.'s Wine Bar, he had seen this strange figure lurking in a shop doorway across the street, apparently taking pictures. But it was only after Harry had described this watcher to BJ. that she realized she'd seen him, too ... frequently over the years, in and around the city and the rundown district of her wine bar.

But only at night, or when it was cloudy and overcast Then BJ. had remembered a hundred occasions when she'd sensed eyes on her in a crowd, or heard soft footsteps sounding behind her in quiet lanes, or glimpsed pin-p.r.i.c.ks of gold in the shade of a vaguely familiar broad-brimmed hat And not only B J. but most of her girls, too...

So, was this watcher a Ferenczy spy such as Radu had warned her about? It seemed more than likely. A spy - a 'sleeper,' sent to Scotland thirty or more years ago - with no orders but to establish himself, seek out the dog-Lord's thralls and minders, and through them find Radu himself in his secret place.

Well, so far he had failed, B J. felt reasonably sure. Her base was so far removed from Radu, and her precautions when she paid him her quarterly visits so strict - and the climb to his lair so arduous, with Auld John to watch the routes for strangers - that Radu's safety seemed a.s.sured. But she herself, and the pack, her girls... they had been discovered long ago.

So, why had this Ferenczy sc.u.m waited? A hundred or more times he could have put a silver bullet through BJ.'s head - yet hadn't The answer seemed simple: to take her out would be to alert Radu's other thralls, if any such existed, jeopardizing both the watcher and his Masters, wherever they were! Also, the Ferenczys could afford to wait, for while Radu was down he was no real threat And obviously this 'D.D.,' the last Drakul, felt the same: let the sl eeping dog-Lord lie, and while he lay investigate his thralls, discover his lair and find out everything there was to be known about him and his.

Then, in the hour of his resurgence - strike full force, before his strength had time to flow back into him!

It all made sense, or would do if th e D rakuls hadn't preempted things. So what had caused them to jump the gun? And as for Harry... he had seemed edgy from his first glimpse of the red-robed 'priests.' What was it with him and them? Or was it simply coincidence, or BJ. reading too much into too little?

But that aside, in the quarter gone by since the Drakuls' failed attack, Ferenczy surveillance on the wine bar, on BJ.'s girls, and herself, had gone up one hundred per cent. It was no lie when she'd told Inspector lanson about the observer; since alerting her girls to his presence, the furtive little man had been spotted a dozen times. The only lie had been in regard to his 'great dog.' No such dog existed but a wolf, a great white she- wolf...

As for the Drakuls themselves: BJ. had read in a third newspaper report how the police were looking for four more members of the sect, believed to be hiding out in the country. It made sense: originally the group had been six members strong. So, four of them were still here, and probably not 78.

too far away. Well, no way they could sneak up on B J. now, not in their red robes, anyway! And be sure that she and her girls would avoid Asiatics of any description; or, if need be, strike back at them a second time.

So then, all these reasons to let Auld John stand in for her again, put off her quarterly visit to Radu in his den, and so for a second time delay his meeting with Harry - a meeting which would surely seal the latter's fate.

All these reasons - and not one of them good enough. The dog-Lord would doubtless tell her that since she knew the problems to be overcome, she must simply take greater precautions, that was all. Worse, he would probably wonder at her reticence, too.

Then, with only a week to go, the reprieve, when fate had delivered a pair of far more acceptable excuses: the fact that one of her girls, Margaret Macdowell, had been threatened - a matter which B.J. must attend to herself - a nd severe weather conditions, making any kind of Cairngorms venture more treacherous yet Despite that she'd had Harry in training (she would protest), he was by no means the expert climber; she certainly wouldn't want to lose him on some icy, vertiginous face on the route to the dog-Lord's la ir! Better far if his first audience with Radu were delayed a further three-month, when the weather should be improved and the climb so much easier.

So her excuses were finally sufficient, and she'd called Auld John in Inverdruie and told him her decision.

And because she took time to list all of her reasons, impressing them into John's memory, she could be sure that when Radu used his mentalism to dig them out again - which he surely would - he would know that Bonnie Jean Mirlu was his true and devoted servant But in fact BJ. knew what she was - treache rous! And she knew why she was; because she was Wamphyri!

Wamphyri, aye, and devious to a fault, as every Great Vampire before he r. And yet devoted too, to Harry...

BJ.'s jumbled thoughts returned to the present.

She was driving across an old stone bridge. A quarter of a mile away along the river, silhouetted against a threatening sky, Harry's house stood like an old, watchful but bleary-eyed owl between two sleeping brothers.

Watchful but tired, yes...

It was only then that BJ. paused to consider how anxious and tired she was, and her actions since Harry's call. For the first time in a long time she hadn't bothered to take any precautions against being followed. But it had been a week since she'd last seen Harry, and he was feeling down and troubled in his mind. And what with all of BJ.'s other worries, not least the Inspector's visit, and the fact that she was still waiting for a call from Auld John La Inverdruie to confirm that all was well with Radu - well, little wonder she wasn't quite with it! And Necroscope: The Lost Yean - Vol. II 79 anyway, what the h.e.l.l? Who would be out following her on a night as cold and dark as this?

They would, that's who.

But too late now to cry over spilled milk. And anyway, the odds were that they already knew about Harry.

On the other hand they would also know he was only a man, her human lover, and of no great concern to them. The Ferenczys would think so, anyway. And the handful of Drakuls were still in hiding. So, there was really no way she could have seriously compromised anything.

Still, as she pulled up outside the old house and dimmed her lights, B J. narrowed her slanted eyes and looked long and searchingh/ into her rearview - and finally sighed her relief. There was nothing back there but the dark ribbon of the river, suddenly silvered by moonlight as a gap opened in the low cloud ceiling. Moonlight, aye, but two days past its full. In another moment the gap had closed and it was dark again.

BJ. got out of her car, locked it, and almost ran up the path to Harry's front door...

... But across the river and roughly opposite Harry's place, on the gra.s.s verge of the country road and hidden beneath the overhanging branches of tall trees, a second car sat in darkness and silence, with only the occasional tick, tick from an engine that was already cooling in the frosty night air.

The car was an old but reliable Volkswagen Beetle, whose driver had known from several previous visits the best place to park. For the next half-hour or so he would simply sit and watch, and wait for the lights to go out, then take his departu re. But at first light he'd be back in time to see the girl leave. Nor was this any kind of weir d longdistance voyeurism but simply his sinister job. For B J. Mirlu's habits were all-important to him - especially in connection with the man she was visiting...

... And two hundred yards back up the same road, on the same gra.s.s verge, a third vehicle sat in darkness and silence; but Inspector George lanson was here for a very different reason. Not to spy on the girl - not at all - but on the spy. And to wonder what in h.e.l.l old Angus McGowan thought he was up to!?

The Inspector was here by virtue of a series of coincidences, which was odd in itself because he'd never believed in them. His street was a no-parking area, wherefore he garaged his car the best part of a mile from home. Ex-constable Gavin Strachan lived only a short walk away but in the other direction; wherefore on leaving Strachan's place, lanson had taken taxis to and from BJ.'s. But on his way home - still wrestling with this thing about old Angus's book -Necroscope: The Lost Yean - Vol. II 81.80.he had decided to pay the vet a visit.

It was rather latish, true, and McGowan didn't much care for visitors at any time, but lanson knew him for a night-owl and hoped he wouldn't mind. Also, he could disguise the real purpose of his visit by asking the vet about his zoo queries, how he was getting on with them... though why he would want to use such a subterfuge he couldn't quite say.

So he had taken the taxi to his garage, then driven himself to McGowan's place east of the city towards the sea. But as he'd driven into the poorly-lit street of tall dark houses where his quarry lived, he had been barely in time to see the man himself leaving in his battered Beetle.

It was the car that gave McGowan away (though again, why lanson should think of it in those terms was anybody's guess). Unless it was the way McGowan was crouched over his steering wheel, intent on his driving, staring straight ahead... his furtive att.i.tude in general. Or not even his att.i.tude but lanson's, the way he was beginning to feel about this whole d.a.m.n business. A gut feeling, yes: a hunch. The instinct that sometimes makes a good policeman great - and sometimes the thing that makes him feel guilty/too.

Be that as it may, lanson had turned his car around and used covert pursuit techniques learned twenty-five years earlier in the Metropolitan Police to follow the vet through Edinburgh's wintry night streets. Mercifully, there had been just enough traffic that he could stay two or three cars back out of sight without losing McGowan. Fortunate, too, that lanson's seven-year-old car was an anonymous brown model of which there were hundreds in the city.

But in a little while it had dawned on the Inspector that he was backtracking much the same route his taxi had taken from B.J.'s Wine-Bar - returning in fact to BJ.'s Wine Bar! A wild guess, but it had proved to be an accurate one.

And as he drove into the bar's district, lanson's gut-feeling had begun to knot into something else inside him.

Once there, McGowan had found a s.p.a.ce in a line of parked cars some little distance from the bar. While he was engaged in manoeuvring into position, lanson had taken the opportunity to overtake and find a s.p.a.ce of his own, from where he'd been able to keep an eye on his rearview and watch both McGowan's car and the street in front of the wine bar. Then for some fifteen minutes he had sat there rubbing his hands to keep the circulation flowing, and hoping that the heater wasn't running his battery low. But mainly he'd been wondering what was going on here.

What, old Angus doing some investigating of his own? That wasn't acceptable... McGowan was a vet, not a policeman! What was more, he so perfectly fitted BJ.'s description of a watcher who had been seen on several occasions before the attack on Margaret Macdowell.

Deep in thought, the Inspector had been very nearly taken by surprise when a party of girls exited from the recess leading to the wine bar's entrance. They were well-wrapped against the cold and too far away for him to identify any of them, and in any case they had quickly split up and gone their own ways into the night.

It was approximately an hour since the Inspector had left the bar; obviously B J. had closed early. Well, that was self-explanatory; she had had little in the way of business to keep her open. But as the girls dispersed so old Angus's Beetle had pulled out and driven away in some haste, so that lanson must hurry to keep up with it.

And now where was the little man going? His route lay west on a fairly major road out of the city, so that once again lanson was able to sit back behind a car or two as he followed the distinctive shape of the Volkswagen to whatever was its destination. But as the flow of traffic dropped off and the night grew murkier yet, the Beetle turned onto a farm track, reversed and came to a halt And its lights went out Two hundred yards behind his quarry, lanson hadn't thought that the track would lead anywhere. Perhaps McGowan had feared he was being followed and pulled off the road to test the theory. So the Inspector had turned in through an open gate onto a lesser track, turned about and pulled forward for a quick exit, and waited. The glint of the Beetle's windows had been visible through a near-distant hedgerow...

And by then there had been only a few vehicles on the main road, most of them heading into Edinburgh...

The next five minutes had pa.s.sed slowly, until a silver-grey car had come speeding along the main roa d from tile dire ction of the city. As it pa.s.sed McGowan's farm track so the Volkwagen's dipped lights had come on, and McGowan had turned back onto the main road. Following him, lanson had driven on dipped lights, too...

... And now he had been sitting here in this place for half an hour, and he was still wondering what was going on and what it was all leading up to. But there was old McGowan down the road, out of his car now and leaning on its curving rear end - doubtless for the warmth from the engine - and gazing through binoculars at the lighted windows of the house across the river.

Well, enough of this. lanson had just made up his mind to move on, go home, ask Angus about it tomorrow, when the lights in the house were suddenly turned down low. A moment later and Angus had got into his car and switched on the sidelights. And it was as much as lanson could do to squeeze down in his seat, out of sight, as McGowan turned the Beetle about on the narrow road and headed back his way. But as the c ar went by he couldn't resist it the urge to 82 lever himself up a little and look directly at the driver. Angus McGowan, absolutely. But- -In that same moment McGowan looked back at him... and it was a different McGowan! How different, lanson couldn't say. He couldn't even say if the other had recognized him, probably not And he had only recognized McGowan because he knew it was him. But that look on the little man's face: the suspicion in those rheumy eyes - those feral yellow eyes. The evi l, aggressive, thrust of the man's jaw...

For a good thre e minutes after the car had gone the Inspector sat there, then finally gave himself a shake, started his car and crossed the river by the old bridge. On the far side he parked and walked as quietly as he could along a rutted service road to where the silver-grey car stood in front of the middle house. Just one car, the one McGowan had been following. lanson memorized the number plate, checked that he knew his exact location, went back to h is car and drove home...

Half an hour earlier: 'I'm sorry I'm late,' BJ. breathlessly told Harry in his bedroom. 'I had to see to the takings, talk to the girls, lock up. I got here as quickly as I could.'

Harry was fully awake now but still hollow-eyed. The last week had been a trying time; in fact the last three months had been trying, even if he didn't know why. But there'd been this feeling of an impending something that had worked on his nerves like sandpaper. And lo oking at BJ. he knew that it hadn't been e asy on her, either. Whatever it was. But: She should level with me, he thought again wondering why.

B J. wasn't a telepath. The germ of the talent was in her, as it was in most of the Wamphyri to one degree or another, but it wasn't an art yet by any means. Still, perhaps she got something of what was on his mind.

'Harry, I'm sorr y-' she started to say, and bit her tongue.'-I mean I'm sorry that you're feeling down.'

'Sure,' he said, but without conviction. And changing the subject: 'Did you go away this last weekend? Did you go north?'

'Er, no,' she shook her head. 'I was busy, and-'

'-The weather?' He sought excuses for her. 'And the new year just in? We didn't have much of a Christmas, B J.'

Christmas? That was scarcely BJ.'s time! But still: 'Er, no,' she answered, "we didn't And I'm sorry. But you know how busy the bar is in ... the silly season ...' She tapered off.

'It's been a week, BJ.,' he said then. 'And a week before that and before that etcetera. In fact it's been this way for months. And when 83.Nectvscope: The Lost Years - Vol. II we're together you're alw ays looking over your shoulder, avoiding my eyes, having... second thoughts?'

She had been standing there looking at him. Now her heart gave a mighty lurch as she flew into his arms, and said, 'Second thoughts? Not about you, Harry! No, not about you!'

Then say it' he held her tightly, mumbled into her hair.

'Say it?' She wasn't thinking straight - couldn't not now that she was in his arms again.

'Call me yere wee man, and put everything right' he told her. Put it right, even if it isn't. Well, and she would have to switch him on if she wanted to use the phone in his presence. Else there'd be things she said to Auld John that he wouldn't understand.

'Harry, mah wee man,' she said - and at once felt him reel a little, the sway of his upper body...

... As the full moon blazed down and ike great wolf lifted his head in tribute, howling from a throat that pulsed with the power of his song.

Then B J. felt Harry tighten up a little in her arms, and released him. 'It's all right,' she said, fixing him with those hypnotic eyes of hers. 'But I have to call Auld John.'

Harry nodded. To see how he is, yes?'

She nodded. 'And then we can talk.'

'Real talk?'

It's always real, Harry, always! For me, anyway. But BJ. knew what he meant, and said: 'Real talk, yes.'

She leaned towards him and gave him a quick kiss, and he didn't try to draw back. But neither did he respond. Then BJ. sat at the side of the bed, and phoned Auld John ...

At his cottage in Inverdruie, Auld John was just done wrap ping his wrist when the phone rang. His bleddy wrist! Man, if only his wounds would heal like the Wee Mistress's. But they wouldnae. He still had scars frae three months ago, where on Bonnie Jean they'd be quite invisible by now.

And the telephone was ringing, even as he tied a knot and tugged it tight with his teeth. This would be the Wee Mistress hersel' no doubt. But it wasnae his fault he'd no called. He'd been down and out for twenty- four hours, aye. A full nicht and a day. And even now he wasnae feelin' too guid.

'John Guiney,' he barked into the phone, using a strong voice to disguise the fact of his physical weakness.

'Wha' is it?'

'It's me, John,' the Wee Mistress's voice came back, and he could almost taste the relief in it. 'I was worried - you didn't call me.'

'Ah would'a done it this minute!' John protested, tr ying not to whine. 'But it's no gone easy wi' me, Bonnie Jean. The climb took it84.Necroscope: The Last Years - Vol. II 85.out'a me. And Him up there... oh, but He was a hungry yin, la.s.sie!'

'John, are you all right?' She was anxious now.

'Ah am the noo,' he told her. And: 'Hush, hush now. Ah'm well enough. But He bled me good. No, no - it was mah own stupid fault like a bleddy auld fool, Ah fell asleep! And it was Himsel' shoutin' in mah head who woke me. Then mah wound - it wouldnae heal, and the climb down was sheer mnfer/That's why Ah've slep' like the big bairn Ah am this day and a half, and missed callin' ye. Forgive me, la.s.s, for a bleddy fool.'

BJ.'s sigh, and: 'Nothing to forgive, John, as long as you're all right. But you sound so weary!'

'So Ah am, but never ye fear. Ah'm stoked tae the brim on guid broth. Another nicht shid see me fine and dandy. And down inside Ah feel stronger than ever. For think, Bonnie Jean, just think! It's mah blood that sustains Him the noo!' But a moment later the excitement ebbed from his voice. 'Excep'...' And he paused.

'Except?' she prompted him. 'Is there something, John?'

Trembling, Auld John sat down with the telephone. 'Bonnie, He wasnae pleased. No, not this time, and far worse than last. Ah tol* Him a' ye said Ah shid; it wouldnae do. He spoke tae me - in mah head, ye ken - and oh He was angry! No so much wi' ye as wi' they others, they Ferenczys and Drakuls! But angry anyway. Ah could feel it boilin' in Him! And it's the Wee Mistress He needs, no this auld sod - if yell excuse mah language.' 'What did you tell him? What did he get from you?' BJ.'s tone was anxious again; John could almost hear her heart pounding.

'Why, only what ye'd tol' me!' He trembled again, his old head swimming in a sudden dizzy bout 'Excep' ye ken Ah didnae tell Him anythin' much, but He took it right out o' mah head.'

"Yes, yes,' (he sensed BJ.'s nod of understanding). 'But what did he tell you?'

'Oh, Ah've a message for ye, be sure,' John answered. 'No more putting it off, Bonnie Jean, no any more.

Neither Ferenczys, Drakuls, disaster, nor even death - nothin's tae stand in yere way. Yell attend Radu in person next time, or it's over and He's done wi' ye! As for yere wee man, that Harry Keogh - he's tae be wi'

ye. Aye, for he's verra important, that yin.'

For a moment ther e was silence on the line, only a faint crackle of static in Auld John's ear. He could hear a log hissing sap in his grate, and the wind in the eaves. Then at last BJ.'s voice again, but faint as a whisper. Will he... is he ...

does he think h.e.l.l be up?'

'Eh? The great wolf? Up, ye say? No, no, that wasnae mah meanin'. Six months, He said. But that's why He must see yere Harry next time, so that He may know the way of it But Ah'm no the clever yin, Bonnie Jean, as well ye ken. Ah wasnae too sure what He meant...'

No, but on the other end of the line Bonnie Jean believed she understood only too well what the dog-Lord meant! Sitting beside her, drawn and hollow-eyed, Harry Keogh might well have understood it, too, if he'd heard. He hadn't however, and: 'Don't worry about it, John,' she told her old friend.

'I can sort things out.' And she was at once conce rned again, for him: 'But what about the climb? Was it really that bad?'

'Oh, aye, but Ah took the easy route up, and killed a fine beast along the way for His creature. That yin's...

well, he's comin' on, ye ken?'

Tes,' she agreed. 'I know...'

Auld John heard the dubious note in her answer, very much as his query had sounded dubious. 'La.s.sie, is a'