Transylvania's Most Wanted (10 page)

He watched as a vampire couple presented
their ball tickets. The two constables patted them down thoroughly
and not finding anything, the couple was allowed to start up the
staircase.

“Your key Mr. Browning,” the clerk said.

Mr. Slang turned around and accepted the
key, picked up the suitcase and hat box he was carrying, and then
headed toward the elevator. As he did, he watched the vampire and
vampiress going up the staircase. At the top of the stairs, the
couple presented their tickets again before being directed toward a
coat check room. Mr. Slang watched the couple head toward there. At
the coat check room they would hand over their coats and hats, and
then they would approach the grand ballroom where they would have
to pass by a group of U.R.R.K. security personnel. If the soldiers
of the King’s Guard did not see any reason to stop them - they
would enter the ballroom.

Mr. Slang took the elevator up to the third
floor and went down the hallway. Since the hallway was presently
empty, he paused by room 313 and listened, but did not hear anyone
inside there. That was fortunate.

He went to his room then and unlocked the
door. The first thing he did after entering the room was go to the
window and look out at the garden area below. There were several
young couples sitting at tables surrounding the pool and that was
unfortunate, but he figured no one would be out there when the
fireworks began and that was fortunate.

He stepped away from the window then, went
and put his suitcase and the hat box on the bed and opened the
suitcase. He took out a thick rope. He slipped it around front legs
of the bed and tied a strong knot, tugging on it to make sure it
would hold. Then he slid the bed across the room until the foot of
the bed was pushed up against the wall below the window. He looked
out the window again and guessed it was fifty feet to the ground
below. He took a knife out of the suitcase and cut the rope the
appropriate length. He curled the rope up then and set it on the
bed and then unlocked the window and slid it up and down a few
times to make sure it was working properly, before closing it, but
he did not lock it.

He went back to his suitcase again and took
out a set of tools for unlocking doors. He carried the lock picks
and the remaining length of rope with him as he went to the door of
his room. He listened at the door for a moment, but not hearing
anyone in the hallway, he went out. He stuffed the rope under his
coat so it could not been seen.

He approached room 313 and listened at the
door, but still not hearing anything inside, went to work picking
the lock. Just seconds later he opened the door just enough for him
to slip inside the room.

Just inside was a narrow hallway, the
bathroom was to his right and the bedroom just a few steps in front
of him. The room was dark and this was fortunate. He quietly
entered the bedroom and discovered something very unfortunate. An
elderly woman was asleep on top the covers. She was wearing an
evening gown, and like everyone else in the hotel, had planned to
be out for the evening, but she must have been suffering a headache
and decided to make a short night of it.

He knew this was a possibility and now it
had happened, but he’d not been able to reserve this room ahead of
time. He thought about killing her. He didn’t want to, but that
wouldn’t stop him and besides it’d be quick and painless, make it
look like her heart had simply quit ticking, but if her husband
returned to the room and found her, the police might be in this
room just when he most needed it to not be occupied. Besides he
hadn’t been instructed to kill any one, although he’d not been told
not to either.

He thought about the adjoining room, but he
would have to throw the rope over to the ballroom balcony and make
it catch on something there and then hope no one saw it. That would
not do, that was even more of a risk, he determined. Looking at the
rope now, he wasn’t sure it was even long enough for the additional
distance. No this room would have to do.

He quietly went to work slipping the rope
around the two legs at the foot of the bed and tied a knot. The
woman stirred a little, but did not wake. He went to the room’s
window and opened it a crack. A slight breeze entered and some
noise drifted in, but the woman remained asleep. He lowered the
rope down and found it was just long enough to reach the balcony
below that came off the grand ballroom. There was a small column
running up the wall of the hotel and the rope hung just a foot out
of sight of anyone standing out on the balcony.

The woman stirred behind him and as she
reached for the lamp on the bedside table, Mr. Slang slipped behind
the curtain. The woman turned on a light, got up and headed for the
bathroom. Fortunately she did not notice the curtain fluttering in
the breeze.

As soon as she turned the corner at the end
of the hallway, Mr. Slang slid the window back down, leaving it
open just a enough, and then waited for her to return to bed. He
was afraid to leave before she did, fearing she might spot the rope
lying on the floor. She was in the bathroom for some time. In the
light coming in the window, Mr. Slang looked at his watch. He had
time still, but if she did not return to bed soon or if she
discovered him there. Well then, something would have to be
done.

A couple of minutes more and Mr. Slang was
becoming impatient, a state which usually took Mr. Slang some time
to work up to. He pulled a knife from his pocket and stepped out
from behind the curtain, but then heard her coming out the
bathroom. He slipped back behind the curtain, but he did not have
time to make sure his shoes were not sticking out. The rope lay on
the floor, running from the end of the bed to the window. The woman
returned to bed wearing a nightgown, but fortunately she did not
spot the rope. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. She turned the light
off and the room fell dark again. He waited a few moments before
stepping out from behind the curtain. He checked the knot again. He
was sure she was awake as he slipped out the room, but her eyes
were closed and he left without her knowing how close she had come
to being sent to the next realm.

He went back to room 324, retrieved his
suitcase and hat box and before leaving, made sure he’d not left
anything behind or any light on. He used the stairs at the end of
the hallway to exit the hotel.

Next Mr. Slang headed around back and walked
down the boardwalk to the river. He looked under the pier and saw
the small rental boat tied there. He opened his suitcase, took out
a raincoat and placed it in the boat.

Then he went back toward the hotel, around
the corner of the building, past the large fountain with the statue
of Perseus, and threw a coin in it for luck.

The hotel was set back fifty yards from the
street and Mr. Slang walked down the busy sidewalk until he came to
Madness Street. He crossed it and made his way to the side of a two
story building that faced toward the hotel. He went down the
alleyway to a door there, and waited until no one was passing by on
the sidewalk before he brought his tools out and let himself in. No
one saw him step inside the building. He left the door unlocked and
went up to the top floor and let himself in the offices of J. P
Underwood, Attorney at law. He slipped inside Mr. Underwood’s
office and pulled a chair closer to the window. He did not turn any
lights on. From there he had a nice view across the street to the
balcony and into the grand ballroom.

“Have you been here long?” Mr. Slang asked
once he had settled into the chair.

“Just a few minutes,” Krakov said realizing
he’d been discovered and stepping out from behind the curtain.

Chapter 11

“Here comes your date,” Tom said tapping
Inspector McElroy on the elbow. “That’s her isn’t it?”

Inspector McElroy looked toward the ballroom
doors. “That’s her,” he said raising his arm so Edith Wembley would
see him. “I had coffee with her last night,” Mac said as the young
woman, wearing a gown so wide she was in danger of knocking glasses
off tables, worked her way toward their table. “She arrived in
Britannia a year ago, but she decided not to be reunited with any
of her three husbands that preceded her in death, since two have
since remarried and the other is presently in one of the dark
realms,” McElroy explained. Miss Wembley waved at them as she
slipped between a couple on the dance floor. “It’s odd to think
that a year ago she was eighty-five-years-old.”

“She looks good then,” Tom said.

The men stood as Miss Wembley arrived at
their table.

“Oh, champagne. I love champagne,” she said
seeing a bottle there.

Red poured her a glass as Inspector McElroy
introduced her to Tom and Rebecca, Red and Miss Kensington,
Commander Gates and his wife.

“This is Edith, but she likes to be called
Edie,” Inspector McElroy told them.

“I like that,” Rebecca said.

“Yes,” Edie said. “No one would ever call me
that on Earth, but when I arrived here, I decided that’s what I
would go by now,” she said accepting a glass of champagne. She
sipped it and smiled. “Oh,” she said opening her purse. “I brought
you something Inspector Flynn.” She handed Tom a piece of paper
then.

“What’s this?”

“The form you asked for yesterday. The one
you saw was in my handwriting. This one was filled out by Pandora,
but when I looked at it, it was nearly unreadable so I filled out
another for her and threw this one in the trash. I happened to
notice it in the basket after you left and I thought I would bring
it to you, just in case you wanted to look at it.”

“Thanks,” he said, noticing the coffee
stains on it. He slipped it in his pocket thinking he didn’t need
it anymore.

“Why don’t you and I take a walk,” Red said
tapping Tom on the shoulder. “We’ll let Mac stay here with his
guest,” he said when Inspector McElroy went to get up too.

Red and Tom took opposite sides of the room
and just started moving through the crowd, looking for anyone that
seemed particularly nervous or seemed to purposely move away from
them. Despite them wearing tuxedos, most people understood they
were policeman from their arm-bands and, for those that spotted
them - the small revolvers tucked under their coattails.

They made a sweep of the room and the
adjoining balcony and then met just outside the ballroom doors. Tom
told Red he hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. Transylvania
City ordinary that was, as where else could you see vampires and
vampiress mixing with humans dressed in tuxedos and beautiful gowns
while being served drinks by goblin waiters.

“I don’t think anything is going to happen.
I’m starting to think this note is just somebody’s way of getting
back at the country that kicked him out,” Red said patting his
pocket.

“You have it on you?

“Yeah,” Red said. “I was going to hand it
back to Chief Roger’s secretary, but then I decided to hold onto it
awhile.”

“Can I look at it?”

“Sure,” Red said handing Tom it. “There’s
Sergeant Hightower,” he said looking toward the top of the stairs
where Sergeant Hightower stood waving Red over toward him. As Red
went to talk with him Tom pulled the form Miss Wembley had given
him and started comparing the handwriting on it to the death threat
the department had received.

Chapter 12

“Did you cut your hair like I asked?” Mr.
Slang asked as he rose out of his chair to open the window and let
some breeze in the room. Music, just barely loud enough to be
heard, drifted into the room along with fresh air.

“I did.” Krakov said as Mr. Slang sat down
again in the plush chair he’d placed so he could sit and look out
the window at the ballroom across the street.

“Pull up a chair,” Mr. Slang said. “It’s
going to be a little while yet.” Mr. Slang craned his neck around
to look at Krakov as he grabbed a chair and brought it toward the
window. “And you’re wearing a tux, good.”

“I saw you coming from the Triumph,” Krakov
said. “Is that the ball I’ll be attending?”

“It is.”

“The person I am to kill, they will be at
the ball?’

“Yes. I told you it would not be easy.”

“If it was, then you would not need me.”

“Yes,” Mr. Slang said as Krakov sat down and
looked out the window. “She’ll be coming along soon.”

“She?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“No,” Krakov said shaking his head. “Just
not what I was expecting.”

For a few moments they sat together in
silence, Mr. Slang tapping his fingers on the armrest to
Tchaikovsky.

When the music stopped, Mr. Slang picked up
the hat box off the floor and opened it. He took out a top hat and
handed it to Krakov.

“Vampires don’t wear hats,” Krakov said.

“Exactly. You won’t be wearing it long. You
need to pass yourself off as a member of the U.R.R.K delegation.
That’s how you’ll get the gun past the constables. Don’t smile and
mumble if you do have to say anything. It’s important no one sees
your fangs. That’s also why I wanted you to have short hair, look
more like a human.”

Krakov set the hat on his lap as Mr. Slang
set the hat box back down on the floor, picked up the suitcase, set
it on his lap and opened it.

“Here’s a coat,” Mr. Slang said pulling one
out. “Give me yours.”

“Why?”

“You’ll need to check your hat and coat in
at the coat-check room. If you wear your own coat – you won’t get
it back.”

Krakov stood and removed a letter out of his
coat pocket before taking it off and handing it to Mr. Slang.

Mr. Slang folded Krakov’s coat and put it in
his suitcase, then he pulled out a pistol. He handed it to Krakov.
“It’s a perfectly clean weapon, untraceable, but after the job’s
done, drop it in the river. Here’s your ticket,” he said handing
him one to the ball and then he handed Krakov a white silk
handkerchief.