TW08 The Dracula Caper NEW (14 page)

"There are just too many variables. The best we can hope for is that Wells will show up again, with Moreau, and we'll get a shot at taking out Moreau and snatching Wells. The problem is, what do we do with Wells once we've snatched him? He already knows too much, but can we risk having him conditioned to forget his part in all of this? Would that affect his writing?" He shook his head again. "I don't know, Christine. It's going to be very tricky. The waiting's hard, but it's not the hardest part.”

“You know, a very unpleasant thought occurred to me while I was on the watch for Wells," she said. "It's bad enough that Moreau snatched him from right under our noses, but what are we going to do if he doesn't come back?"

Delaney's hand froze with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. "Don't even think about it," he said.

They met in the rooms of the Beefsteak Society. The Sublime Society of Beefsteaks was not in session at the moment. The tradition dated back to 1735, when John Rich, manager of the Covent Garden Theatre, founded the club for "men of noble or gentle birth," which met for a beefsteak dinner every Saturday from November to June. The badge of the society was a gridiron and its members wore blue coats and buff waistcoats, buff being a light yellow napped leather properly made from buffalo skin, though other skins were sometimes used. The motto of the club was "Beef and Liberty" and it met at the Lyceum Theatre. Grayson thought the whole thing was rather juvenile, but then there had always been a ritualistic fervor among the upper classes that he had never fully understood. If you want to meet once a week for a steak dinner, he thought, why not simply meet once a week for a steak dinner? Why make a bloody boys' club formality of the whole thing? In any case, it was a question that was never liable to concern him personally, as it was highly unlikely that he would ever he invited to join a gentleman's club. He was just a simple working class sod, happy with his station in life and if he wanted a steak dinner, he could bloody well just go down to the pub and get one.

Bram Stoker beckoned him to one of the chairs placed around the table.

"Please sit down. Inspector. May I offer you something to drink?"

"No, thank you very kindly. Mr. Stoker, not while I'm on duty."

"Are you making any progress with your inquiries, Inspector'?" Stoker said. "I take it that is what you wanted to speak to me about?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, it was," said Grayson.
"
I trust, Mr. Stoker, that we may speak in confidence?"

"Certainly, Inspector," Stoker said. "However, I should tell you that if what you have to discuss with me should happen to concern Henry Irving, I would be both honor and duty bound to take the matter up with him. He is both my employer and my closest friend."

Grayson nodded. "I quite understand. However, I don't think we will need to concern ourselves with Mr. Irving. There is certainly nothing to suggest that he is in any way involved."

"Involved in what. Inspector?" Stoker said.

"Well, frankly Mr. Stoker. at the moment I am not quite sure, but I suspect it may be murder."

Grayson watched Stoker carefully. The man suddenly became silent, but he did not avoid Grayson's steady gaze. He pressed his lips together and gave a couple of curt nods.

"I see," said Stoker. "Then if I understand you correctly, Inspector Grayson, you believe that Angeline Crewe was murdered, but you have no proof."

"No proof that I would feel comfortable presenting at the Old Bailey," Grayson said. "At least, not yet. However, there is no question but that Miss Crewe was subjected to at least one violent assault shortly prior to her death and it appears possible that she may even have cooperated in it."

Stoker frowned. "Exactly what are you implying, Inspector?"

"Those wounds on her throat were made by teeth. Mr. Stoker," Grayson said, watching the man for a reaction. "Human teeth."

"You're certain of this?" Stoker said.

"Beyond a shadow of a doubt," said Grayson.

"You are telling me that she was bitten in the neck by someone and, as a result, she died?" said Stoker.

"She died from loss of blood," said Grayson.

Stoker took a deep breath. "Is each of us wondering who will say it first?" he said. "Wry well, then.
I
will say it. Her killer bit her in the neck and drank her blood. In other words, a vampire?"

Grayson pursed his lips. "I see that the thought had already crossed your mind," he said. "Tell me, are you a superstitious man, Mr. Stoker?"

"People in the theatre are always superstitious." Stoker said. "But let's speak plainly, shall we? If you're asking me if I believe in the existence of such creatures, I can only answer by saying that I would be disinclined to, but to my certain knowledge, I don't know. There are many things in this world which we cannot explain to our satisfaction. Frankly, when I saw those marks upon Angeline's throat, it was the first thing that crossed my mind, but then I had only recently read a novel by Sheridan Le Fanu about a woman who was a vampire. Are you familiar with the work?"

"You mean
Carmilla
?"
Grayson said.

"Yes, that's the one. You've read it then?"

Grayson nodded.

"So what do
you
think?" Stoker said.

"I found it entertaining, but to borrow your
own
words," said Grayson. "I am disinclined to believe in the existence of such creatures.”

"You would prefer to seek a more rational explanation." Stoker said, nodding. "Has it occurred to you that there are legends about vampires dating all the way back to ancient times, to Greece and Rome? And that there have been many apparently reliable reports concerning vampirism scattered throughout history since then'? Even up to and including recent times?"

"Yes, I am aware of that,” said Grayson. "In fact, I recently had an interesting conversation concerning that very topic with Dr. Conan Doyle and he was able to explain to me convincingly how such stories might have been sustained as a result of ignorance and improper observation."

Stoker smiled. "Yes, that sounds like Arthur. There's a man with both feet planted firmly on the ground, just like his detective. Sherlock Holmes. He claims the character was based upon an old professor of his, but the truth is that there's a lot of Arthur in old Sherlock. No, I don't imagine he would sit still for a moment to listen to any farfetched notions about vampires. And yet there is the tragic, albeit fascinating case of Angeline Crewe. Did Arthur offer any theories about that'?"

"As a matter of fact, he did," said Grayson. "And I am inclined to accept them. One of the things that
he
suggested was that . . . well, how can I put this delicately?"

"Please don't bother," Stoker said. "We have agreed to speak plainly, if you'll recall."

"Yes, well, meaning no offense," said Grayson, "but people associated with the theatre have a certain reputation for rather irregular behavior. And one of the things that Dr. Conan Doyle suggested is that we may be dealing with a case of sadistic perversion here. This theory seems to be supported by the fact that Miss Crewe apparently
never
made any mention of having been bitten in the throat and one would think that if she had been assaulted forcibly in such a manner, she would certainly have said something about it to someone. And it she had actually permitted such an act to be committed upon her person, and actually allowed the drinking of her blood, then what other conclusion could there be except that she was a willing participant in an act of such depravity?"

"I see," said Stoker. "It is an interesting speculation, to be sure. And, purely in terms of degree, certainly more rational than the vampire theory. However, has it occurred to you that the reason Angeline Crewe never said anything about having been so cruelly used might have been that she was frightened and humiliated?"

"I should think that if she had been frightened," Grayson said, "she would have been all the more anxious to speak out and have the blackguard who did it brought to justice, so that he would never be able to menace her or any other young woman again."

"One might well think so," Stoker said, "if one is a
man
.
However, try to consider the situation from a woman's point of view, Inspector. A woman who is an actress and, unfortunately, as you have already pointed out, suffers from an entirely undeserved reputation for irregular behavior, as you put it. Just because a woman is an actress, Inspector, that doesn't mean she is immoral. And in this particular case, we have a young woman who comes from a good family, a family which has already suffered a certain amount of distress due to her chosen vocation. If the matter were to come to court, it would be purely her word against that of her assailant and you can be sure that the man's counsel would do everything in his power to discredit her testimony by attacking her reputation. I personally know of no woman who would not flinch from such an ordeal."

"Your point is well taken." Grayson said, nodding. "I had not thought of that. It is the sort of thing that might give some comfort to her family when all of this eventually conies to light—as it shall, rest assured on that account—but for the moment, let us leave the question of Miss Crewe's reputation aside and concentrate upon the fact of her demise. Whether she was a willing participant in depravity or whether she was forcibly imposed upon, it seems obvious that whoever was responsible cannot possibly be sane. Which brings us back to Dr. Doyle's observations upon this matter. And again. I remind you that we speak in confidence."

"Of course," said Stoker.

"I have been attempting to reconstruct something of Miss Crewe's recent past." said Grayson. "I know, for example, that she was seen frequently in the company of a young man named Tony Hesketh. You yourself confirmed this in our last discussion. Hesketh is missing, disappeared without a trace. I find this highly suspect. I have also managed to learn that Mr. Hesketh's character is not altogether what one might consider proper. I have established to my satisfaction that he was intimately associated with at least one young man of questionable moral character, if you get my meaning."

"You're saying that Tony Hesketh was a homosexual." said Stoker. He shrugged. "Frankly, that does not surprise me. I always thought that young Hesketh was a bit overly flamboyant and rather effeminate. I did try to dissuade Angeline from fraternizing with him. He seemed like a bad sort to me. You're suggesting that one mode of abnormality might breed another?"

"It is certainly possible." said Grayson. "I have the impression that young Hesketh straddled the fence, as it were. A jaded appetite that is already immoral and decadent to begin with could easily turn to more depraved pleasures. Hesketh may not be sane. Dr. Doyle cited a number of historical examples of so-called vampirism, but vampirism practiced by insane living persons rather than satanic dead ones. A form of perversion, if you will. And if this sounds farfetched, you should hear the details of some of these cases. Dr. Doyle mentioned one that comes vividly to mind, the case of a 15th century warlord named Dracula who murdered thousands of people in the most grisly manner—"

Stoker started.
"What
did you say that name was?" he said.

Grayson was surprised at the reaction. "Dracula," he said. "A prince of some sort. Vlad Dracula, known for his cruelties as the Impaler. Why do you ask?"

"Because I have met a man named Dracula," said Stoker. "And quite recently. too. A wealthy Balkan aristocrat. I remember the name because I liked the sound of it. It rolled rather ominously off the tongue. Count Dracula. He came to the theatre on a number of occasions. And he was a friend of Tony Hesketh's."

Wells stood at the hotel window, clutching Moreau's arm as if terrified of letting go. Below them, people surged past in a ceaseless wave of humanity, moving quickly and purposefully across pedestrian spanways high above the ground. The skyscrapers towered above them on all sides and far below, Wells could see other spanways, both vehicular and pedestrian, crisscrossing in a webwork of suspended roads and walkways. Just below them was a vehicular spanway that snaked among the buildings and tiny vehicles which were completely enclosed and shaped like sleek teardrops in a wide and dazzling array of colors traveled at amazing speeds just above the surface of the suspended roadway. Above them, machines flew through the air, small craft with stubby, swept back delta wings, occasionally diving down like kingfishers into the steel, glass and concrete jungle. often passing so close to one another that Wells could not see how it was possible for them to avoid collision.

"I cannot believe my eyes," he said. "Where
are
we?"

"London," said Moreau.

"London!"

"It would be safer to remain here," said Moreau.

"What is this place?" said Wells. "Is this your home?"

"Not exactly," said Moreau. "It is a hotel room. I pay for it by bringing certain coins and stamps from the 19th century and selling them privately to collectors in this time period. In this way, I have managed to establish accounts here, as well as a false identity. If my true identity were known, it is almost a certainty that I would be arrested. I am telling you this because I want you to understand that I am being completely honest with you.”

"It is all so overwhelming; I do not know where to turn! Such astonishing growth! I would never have thought it possible that buildings of such amazing height could be constructed! And all those flying machines buzzing about like bees around a hive, how do they keep from colliding?"

"They are equipped with guidance systems," said Moreau. "Far too complicated to explain, just think of them as devices which are capable of sensing everything around them and communicating with each other as they navigate."

"Amazing!" said Wells. “Moreau, can't we go outside for just a moment? Please'?"

"Well, all right," Moreau said, "but only for a moment or two. However, you had best change into some different clothing first."