Hello, this is Stephanie Price and you're listening to Underwritoden Flinch Underground. Thank
you, Stephanie, It most certainly is that was long time listener and patron
Stephanie Price introducing this episode of Underwooden Finch Underground back when it premiered at Patreon
six and a half years ago in December twenty sixteen. Anyway, hello listeners
in twenty twenty three. I hope you're well and all psyched for what I'm
about to lay on your ear holes. But before I do that, let's
return to that original introduction so we can be brought up to date on the
story. So, first of all, a recap on our situation. The
current story Throat follows Detective Inspector Claire Redmond. Claire, as you may recall,
has just recently had an encounter with Lydia Flinch in a pub hotel in
London, about which she remembers absolutely nothing. What she does have, however,
is a very determined need to be the heart of the London Vampire investigation.
But that isn't going to be easy because her boss, Charles Coleridge,
has taken her off the case and put DCI guy Valentine in charge. Now,
Coleridge was a close colleague of Claire's father, Harry, and he's also
Claire's godfather. It was Coleridge who came around to Claire's house that night when
she was a kid, to take her father away and have him committed to
a mental hospital. Anyway, in our last episode, Claire invited DCI Valentine
out for luncheon, trying to get him to spill the beans on the London
vampire the OCU and to take her to the mysterious Falconbridge Police station, a
place which seems to her to be nothing more than a gardener's lodge at the
edge of Battersea Park. Valentine didn't take kindly to Claire's conduct, and when
she threatened to call the London Evening Courier to tell them all she knew,
he told her that if she didn't cease and desist, end up in the
same place as her old man m Well. That led Declare calling Coleridge and
with him still on the line, confronting Valentine about what he'd said and done.
The end result of that was that she and Valentine were summoned to Coleridge's
office where he now awaits them and us in Underwood and Flinch Season four.
Underground written and performed for podcast by Mike Bannett. This podcast is intended for
an adult audience episode. Charles Coleridge stood looking out over the River Thames from
the window of his office in the Metropolitan Police sub headquarters on Victoria Embankment.
Thick cumulus nimbus clouds were massing beyond the County Hall and the London Eye,
moving ever closer to darken the sky and river. The first drops of rain
began to tap quietly against the glass, calling Coleridge's attention to the face of
the man reflected there. The image grew sharper as the sky grew darker,
like a ghost emerging from the shadows. How much younger he had been when
he and Harry Redmond had first been called into this office by its then resident,
the long departed Frank Lester. It had been the late seventies, and
Lester, who had been a captain in the Parachute Regiment until a bad landing
forced his early retirement, had been a godlike figure to them. He often
wondered if that was how the men and women under his command viewed him to
day. Probably not. He was nothing like Lester, too soft by half.
But if they did, Valentine and Redmond ought to be shaking in their
boots right now. They were on their way to him, each in their
own cars. He had just got off the foe with Valentine, who'd been
filling him in further on what had happened at the restaurant. As if the
London vampire murders weren't enough, now he had this to deal with as well.
The rain began to fall, heavily, lashing against the window and liquefying
the view of the world outside. But Coleridge wasn't looking out into the present.
He was looking back into the past. The reflected office was as it
had been in nineteen seventy eight. Frank Lester sat at the desk, and
opposite him sat Harry Redmond, and his younger self. Coleridge closed his eyes.
I tried, Harry, I did all I could. The phone on
his desk gave a sharp chirp, and he turned back to reality. He
picked up the receiver and said quietly, Yes, Chief Detective Inspector Valentine and
Detective Inspector redmonder here for you. Sir, Thank you, sus Coleridge had
told his secretary not to notify him until both of them had arrived. Send
them in please. He returned to the window. In the reflection of the
room, he saw the door open and Valentine step aside to allow Redmond to
enter first, which she did without a word. Valentine followed her in,
closing the door behind him. Coleridge watched their reflections as they hovered behind the
two seats on the opposite side of his desk. Without turning, he said,
sit down. They did so. Redmond sat rigidly upright, her body
tense, and angled away from Valentine. In contrast, Valentine sat reclined in
his seat with one leg crossed over the other knee. Their eyes were on
Coleridge. He waited, listening to the rain patter against the window, his
eyes now drawn to a river cruiser laden with tourists gliding slowly by. When
the boat had sailed past, he said, you disappoint me, Redmond,
Sir, said Claire, I have to silence. Please, said Coleridge.
You'll get your chance to speak. Valentine has been filling me in on the
phone since he left. You frankly, I've never heard anything like it.
He turned around to face her coppers sneaking off to leak information to the press
on the sly, whether for financial gain or for moral reasons. Yes,
but this you actually think you can blackmail us with going to the press unless
we do as you demand. It's not blackmail, sir, a blackmail,
coercion. Call it whatever you like, it still comes down to the same
thing. You are threatening to divulge classified information to the national media unless we
do what you want. Can you give me one reason, just one why
I shouldn't have you arrested Redmond locked eyes with him, or committed even less
chance of my being heard from inside a padded cell. Coleridge's face darkened.
Don't you dare? Don't you dare to even imply such a thing. The
implication wasn't mine, sir. I'm only repeating what DCI Valentine said at the
end of our meeting. Yes, Coleridge glowered, and Valentine so he's told
me. And we'll get to that soon enough. But first I want to
know just what an earth has possessed you to think that you can carry on
in this way. Surely you know this could be the end of your career,
demanding that Valentine take you to falcon Bridge, a place you have absolutely
no clearance to go to, so that you can start poking around in what
you know, damn well is classified information. I wouldn't have actually done it,
sir, said Claire. I was just bluffing, bluffing. What the
hell do you mean you were bluffing? D c I Valentine wasn't She glanced
at Valentine. He wasn't cooperating with me. Coleridge could hardly believe his ears.
This wasn't the Claire redman he knew, and yet her expression was completely
earnest. She genuinely believed what she was saying. Not cooperating with you,
by which you mean he wasn't prepared to just idly gossip about state secrets,
No, sir, I mean he was sticking to your serial killer story and
making out like I was mad for not buying into it. But I don't
buy into it, and I'm not bloody mad. Look sir, There's no
point in him, or you or anyone else lying to me anymore, because
I know what's going on, what's really going on? Oh yes, Coleridge
nodded. Yes, Valentine told me all about your theory, how the murderer
isn't actually a serial killer, but is in fact a pair of vampires,
That is correct, sir. And how Valentine and I are part of a
secret department in the police force that's hunting these vampires down. Yes, sir,
the OCU, the Occult Crimes Unit, isn't that right? It is,
sir, And your father he was also an operative of this unit,
yes, sir. And now you believe that he wasn't really mentally ill,
but that we had him committed to get him out of the way for some
reason. Well, I don't know that with any certainty, Sir. I
didn't think it at all until d c I Valentine implied it earlier. Yes,
as you said on the phone. He turned to Valentine. Valentine,
what do you have to say to that? Valentine sat up, Sir.
I certainly didn't mean to give that impression. I think d I read misinterpreted
what I was saying. Claire turned to him. I think your exact words
were that if I went to the press, I would end up in the
same place as my old man. How else should I have interpreted that Inspector
Valentine's face flushed. Look if I said that, then I'm sorry. But
damn it all, Redmond, you had me wound up to the point where
I just lost it. I had to say something to stop you. You
had the Evening Courier on the phone, for God's sake. It wasn't connected.
It's like I said, I was just bluffing. Well, so you
say, but it didn't look like that to me. Nevertheless, all right,
Coleridge intervened. Enough. What Valentine said was both stupid and wrong,
but his intentions, however tactlessly conveyed, were in the best interests of both
the law and the public. Good. Yours, however, he pointed at
Claire, were not, sir. My intentions were to get the truth of
who or what is responsible for these murder not because I wanted to take it
to the press, but because I want to help stop it. I have
to What do you mean you have to Redmond? This isn't your case anymore.
No, because it's OCU now, and I wouldn't understand any of that
since I'm not in the OCU. Isn't that right? Yes? Claire was
thrown by his reply what, Redmond. You're not in trouble for being a
good detective. You're in trouble for threatening to go to the media with classified
information. But wait, are you saying? I'm right? Godridge held her
gaze for a few moments, then straightened and walked to the window. With
his back to the room, he said, the last promise I made to
your father before he died was that I would keep you and your mother safe,
safe, safe from what from the things that towards the end your father
was so very afraid of. I swore to him that I protect you,
and I'd done a pretty good job of it until yesterday morning. Just my
luck that those two bodies should turn up on your patch and while you were
on duty. Had it been anyone else, our explanation that a serial killer
was the culprit would have been accepted without question. He looked back over his
shoulder to Claire. But not you. Of all the coppers in London,
only one, only Harry Redman's daughter, would have questioned our sensible, rational
version of events. He returned to his desk, where he sat down and
opened the bottomed drawer. He took out a half bottle of scotch, and
three glasses. I could go on with the charade to lie in order to
protect you, as I promised your father, I would, But it's clear,
from what Valentine's told me, and from what you're saying now, that's
not going to wash. You're not going to go quietly, are you,
Claire, No, sir, No, of course, you're not too much
like your old man. Coleridge poured out three drinks and set two of the
glasses in the middle of the desk. He sat back with the third and
gestured for present company to join him. Valentine took a glass, Claire didn't.
Coleridge took a sip of his drink, savored the flavor, then looked
Claire straight in the eyes. Yes, Inspector Redmond, you're right, there
is no ongoing serial killer case. We do, indeed believe that vampires are
responsible for these murders. Oh my God, said Claire quietly. I knew
it, I just didn't. How many are there? Two? Possibly three?
Forensics found one set of bloody footprints at the church and another two sets
of prints in sand deposits around the skip, consistent with people carrying something heavy
between them. Jesus Christ, But what about the OCU. Is that real
too? It is, and you, both of you are in it.
We are, and so, my dad, he was one of us,
Coleridge smiled. He was, indeed, and an outstanding officer. He was
too. Claire reached for the glass of whiskey he'd offered her and took a
generous sip. She winced as she swallowed, then said, but what about
his illness? Coleridge sat back and steepled his fingers. I am afraid that
was also real. Towards the end, Harry was a danger, not only
to himself, but also to you and your mother. On the night we
took him away, he telephoned me. He said vampires were coming for him
and for you and your mother. The only way he believed he could save
you from the damnation of becoming one of them was well, he had a
gun. Oh my god, said Claire. You mean he was going to
kill us? That was his fear. Yes, he wanted us to help
him to come and fend his attackers off. If we failed, then he
would do what he had to do. Oh God, poor Dad. We
knew that Harry suspected he was on to a possible vampires threat, but Coleridge
shook his head, nothing like this, So we came immediately, armed and
ready for anything. He left the door on the latch for us, and
we were able to come straight in. We found him with suit cases packed
and fighting with your mother, trying to get you all away to safety.
I remember, said Claire, Do you remember how he was? Claire nodded,
eyes downcast. I am sorry, Claire. As you know, we
took him into care. We left a twenty four hour guard on your house
just in case there was anything in what he was saying. It was there
for weeks afterwards, but nothing ever came. But you said he was onto
a possible vampire threat. What was that? It was never really clear what
went on with Harry's last case. He'd been working under cover alone, trying
to infiltrate a Satanic coven in Richmond. He believed the group were behind a
string of disappearances in the area, prostitutes male and female, abducted for the
purpose of human sacrifice for obvious reasons. I didn't see too much of him
at that time, but on one occasion, shortly after he'd managed to gain
the trust of one of the coven he told me how he thought he'd stumbled
onto something a lot bigger than he'd first believed. Among the coven, there
was talk of a vampire, and not just any vampire, but some kind
of major player. He was excited by this and not a little nervous.
Neither he nor I had ever actually had dealings with a vampire, since the
battle to purge them from the country had all but been one in the fifties
and sixties. Anyway, he told me he was going to report his findings
to Leicester, our boss at the time, and fingers crossed we'd soon be
able to launch a rate and bag the lot of them. But it didn't
play out like that. The next time I saw him was the night we've
just been talking about. When he came to take him away, he swirled
the contents of his glass before draining it and setting it down. Early the
next morning, we raided the house he'd been investigating in Richmond, but there
was nothing, nothing incriminating anyway. The occupier was a self proclaimed white wizard
called Elliott Beardsley. We took him in for questioning along with members of his
coven. They were harmless, a bunch of aging pagans into prancing about naked,
screwing each other and getting pisced. We carried out an extensive search of
the house, but there were no signs of the kidnapped prostitutes anywhere. There
was an altar in the cellar, but no traces of blood, not even
at chickens. It looked like Harry had manufactured it all as part of his
delusion, that that was what the doctors said, he had a psychotic delusion.
But I couldn't accept that. I couldn't believe that Harry could have lost
his mind so completely in such a short space of time, and was able
to persuade Frank Lester to let me work with the doctors at the hospital to
try to get to the bottom of Harry's delusion. Something had to be at
the root cause of it all, and I wanted to know what. It
wasn't easy by that stage. He was often raving and incoherent. The doctors
had to keep him sedated and straight jacketed most of the time, and getting
answers to any questions was impossible. However, using a combination of drugs and
deep hypnosis, we were gradually able to get through to him. He was
able to recount everything that had happened, but only up to a point.
He told us in detail how he'd managed to infiltrate the coven and had partaken
in rituals, though thankfully none involving human sacrifice. He said that the kidnap
victims were being held at another location that he was never privy to. But
he did, however, discover that they weren't to be sacrificed, at least
not in any conventional sense. No, they were intended as food for this
vampire. Harry would grow distressed and frightened. Whenever he talked about the vampire.
It would jolt him completely out of the trance, screaming and tearful.
The doctors told me that if what we needed to know was in there,
it was behind a wall in Harry's mind, a wall of fear. It
could be possible to push through this barrier, but only by increasing the drug
dosage to prevent him from waking up during the procedure. They said it could
be dangerous. Coleridge, who had been gazing at a paper weight on his
desk, now looked up at Redmond. I hope you can understand just how
much was at stake, Claire. We had to know as much as we
could about that vampire if he was at large in London. It's okay,
sir, please go on. Coleridge nodded, grateful for the understanding, so
Lester approved the more intensive techniques, and sure enough we were able to get
through the wall in Harry's mind. Up to then, it hadn't been clear
exactly what kind of contact, if any, Harry had had with the vampire.
But now we discovered he'd been very close. In deed, he'd been
fascinated by him. He'd what said Claire, he'd been fascinated, which is
to say that we weren't the first to be intruding into Harry's mind. The
vampire had been there before us. Fascination is one of their most powerful weapons.
It's like hypnosis, only far, far more powerful. In hypnosis,
you can't get someone to do something that they don't want to do, despite
what the stage hypnotists would have you believe, all those willing volunteers making fools
of themselves in front of an audience are just that willing. They go along
with it, they want to do it. But if you asked one of
them to say, shoot themselves, well, that would be it. They'd
wake up immediately, But not so with someone who's been fascinated. A victim
of fascination will kill themselves or anyone else they've been ordered to, and they
won't blink an eyelid in doing it. But Harry's vampire. I hadn't wanted
that. He didn't want a police detective dying in suspicious circumstances that would only
have intensified the police investigation. No, all he wanted was for Harry to
be locked away and forgotten about. So instead of killing him, he made
him mad. Coleridge poured himself another drink. When we went back to talk
again to Elliot Beardsley, we found he disappeared and the house was up for
rent. We tried to trace him through the landlord, but there was no
trail to follow. The whole rental had been done under false names. Cash
up front, no questions asked. But what about my dad? What happened
to him? Coleridge looked down into his drink. He passed away. It
was, as you've always been told, a heart attack. The doctor say
it was brought on by the fear he was experienced, sing he couldn't wake
up to escape from it, and his heart it just gave out. I'm
so sorry, Claire. It's all right, sir. In a way,
I'm relieved. At least I have some answers that make sense to me now.
I'm sure I would have done the same thing if i'd been in your
position. Was he able to tell you anything before he died. Yes,
he was able to tell us the vampire's name, Heinrich Volkmann, possibly an
alias, as Harry said, he spoke with an American accent. Is he
someone you have any record of prior to this incident? No? Was Dad
able to give you a description at all, just a basic one, casually
dressed man in his early thirties, dark collar length hair. His one distinguishing
feature was a faint scar on his left cheek. That doesn't match anything in
your files either. No. But then I'm afraid our files are regrettably incomplete.
And that's another thing I wanted to talk to you about. Valentine tells
me you said you had some OCU case files when you were a kid,
but that your mother destroyed them. Yes, sir, Dad had some things
keepsakes from his old cases. I suppose you could call them. There were
files amongst them. After his death I came home one day and Mum was
burning at all. I tried to save some of it, but she came
after me and took it away. I never saw any of it again,
so I presume she finished what she'd started. Not quite, Diane, your
mother gave me those files. There were only three of them, and they
all related to Harry's own cases. But what I need to know from you
now is were there any more any more files? Yes, Valentine tells me
you still have Harry's ring, so clearly your mother didn't get everything from you.
No, sir, I managed to hide his ring and an ID card,
but only because they were small. Mum took everything else. You're absolutely
certain of that. I promise you there'll be no repercussions. I just want
the files, yes, sir, I'm positive there's nothing else. Damn Coleridge
slapped the arm of his chair. Ah. Well, I suppose it was
too much to hope for. But just how many files are you missing,
sir? Dozens? Really, and you don't know how they disappeared? No,
stolen most likely, though we've no idea by whom. Do you know
when it happened? No, they weren't noticed as missing till the OCU records
were computerized in the late eighties. You're young, you can only imagine what
life was like before computers. But there were literally thousands of paper files down
in Falconbridge, dating all the way back to the Victorian era. Is I'd
be surprising that no one noticed some of them had gone missing. Do you
know what cases they relate to? No? Once it was discovered, we
considered the possibility that maybe Harry had taken them. Diane told me that she'd
given me all the files he'd taken. But still, I had a secret
search of the house undertaken when you and she were out, just to be
sure they found nothing. Not even your father's ring, he smiled. Where
did you keep it hidden buried in an old tobacco tin in the garden,
said Claire. I dug it out when I was fifteen. Well, you
always were a smart kid. And that brings me to my next question.
Just what are we going to do with you now? Detective Inspector Claire shifted
in her seat. I don't know, sir, but for what it's worth,
I apologize. I ought to throw the book at you. Yes,
sir, Can you give me any reason why I shouldn't. Well, Yes,
to be honest, I think you need me. I don't know what
it takes to become an officer of the OCU. But if I don't qualify,
I don't know who does. I'm a bloody good detective. I knew
what was going on in this London vampire case before you or Valentine were anywhere
near it. And if you hadn't taken me off it, well I may
well have cracked it by now, really, said Coleridge, before adding sarcastically,
well I messed up there, didn't I. I won't let you down,
sir. And what about my promise to your father that I would keep
you safe? That's why I've always kept you away from this department up until
now. What do you think he would say? I think he would be
proud of us both, sir. He wasn't in his right mind when he
asked you to make that promise. If we could ask him now, I
think he'd say differently. Quite possibly, said Coleridge. Well, there's no
doubt you have the right stuff of the job and your OCU family, as
is Valentine. Here. Valentine held up his hand to Clare and waggled his
ring finger. My dad's gave it to me when I joined the department.
Yes, and how many times if I told you not to wear it in
public? Valentine, take it off right now, Yes, sir, said
Valentine. He twisted the ring off and slipped it into his jacket pocket.
Sorry, it won't happened again. You're damn right it won't, said Coleridge.
The bloody things are dead giveaway to anyone or anything that knows what they're
looking for, and since we've a vampire or two in town, we can't
take any chances. But what does it mean, said Claire the ring.
I'm afraid that's confidential, Redmond. You can't know that unless you're made an
OCU officer, And afraid I'm still a long way from decided on whether you
will be or not. Please, Sir, said Claire, with a sudden
urgency in her voice. I really want this. Coleridge was surprised by her
tone. Yes, as your actions today make abundantly clear. However, I
feel I need some time to think this over. For now, just be
grateful. I'm not firing you. Yes, I am grateful, but please
I Redmond faltered, and Coleridge noticed she was wringing her hands. She appeared
to be experiencing a great level of stress. I can't be on the outside
of this, she continued. It's where I belong. I have to be
at the heart of this investigation, to be part of the team that brings
these monsters to justice. And if we refuse, said Valentine, what then
a quick cold to the courier, Claire shot Valentine a look of undisguised hatred.
Coleridge noted it with interest. She had grounds to be angry with him,
but there was murder in her eyes. Then she said, I told
you I was bluffing. How many times do I have to say it?
But I'm not altogether convinced that you were bluffing, said Valentine. He turned
to Coleridge. I have to say I advise against appointing d I Redmond,
Sir, I don't feel she can be trusted. Well, thankfully, it's
not up to you, d c I, Valentine, said Claire. That's
enough, said Coleridge. He sat back in his chair, his eyes not
leaving Claire's face for a moment. Let's say that I were to offer you
a position, Redmond. The OCU is a top secret department. You can't
discuss it with anyone, not family, friends, not even colleagues. Yes,
sir, I understand it's not a full time posting. It's not even
a full time department. Most of the time Falconbridge is closed, but it
does have a designation as a CID Special Operations base, and that special operation
is US. So if you were to join the OCU, you wouldn't change
your current police station, and for most of the three hundred and sixty five
days of the year, you'd still be on duty with ds BECK. But
sometimes a crime will be committed that doesn't sit within the boundaries of normal all
police operations, and then you will be called. Our forebears classified these crimes
as occult, hence the name of the department. Nowadays, our technical designation
is simply Falconbridge CID, But to ourselves and our retired brethren, we are
and ever shall be the Occult Crimes Unit. Make no mistake, Redmond,
the things we deal with are often real and terrible. Though SeeU isn't a
department you should join without careful consideration. As I say, I'm still to
make up my mind as to whether I want to offer you the position.
But I think you also should take a few days to think it over.
I don't need a couple of days, sir, said Claire, with the
same strange urgency. I've been ready for this my whole adult life. I
know what it is we face, and I am not afraid. Sir.
I have to be at the heart of this investigation, and I am ready
to do whatever needs to be done. Coleridge frown slightly. Interesting, that's
the second time you've used that phrase. What phrase you said you had to
be at the heart of this investigation. Claire shrugged, Yes, and I
do, sir. It's rather an unusual choice of words, especially for you.
You're not usually given to such dramatic turns of phrase. You're more of
a down to earth, a matter of fact sort of person. Can I
ask why you chose it? I don't know. It's just a phrase.
It simply came to mind. I actually, come to think of it,
you use that expression earlier in the restaurant, said Valentine. I remember thinking,
who the hell does she think she is? Claire laughed nervously. Well,
so what does it matter? It might do, said Coleridge. Tell
me, inspector. After we left, you yesterday. Did you do anything
unusual, unusual like what? Coleridge shrugged. I don't know, go anywhere,
see anyone, anyone out of the ordinary. No. I Claire remembered
the call from Jesse Collins and how she should have passed it on to Valentine.
She glanced at Valentine and said reluctantly, Actually, there was a call
from someone who said they knew the first victim, but it was just a
hoax. What demanded Valentine, why didn't you tell me about this? Well?
I was going to, but she was frightened, really frightened. She
begged me to come and see her, me, not anyone else. So
when I was worried that if I tried to pass her over to someone else,
especially to a male officer, we'd lose her. Why you specifically,
Redmond asked Coleridge, did you say she said you to me on the TV
news. I suppose she felt she could trust me, that she had a
connection, you know how it is. So did you go to meet her?
Yes? I did, bloody hell, Redmond said, Valentine, what
part of not your case? Don't you understand you should have at least contacted
me? I know, and I would have, but she insisted I come
alone. Maybe it was the wrong thing to do, but my gut told
me otherwise. All right, Coleridge interrupted, Never mind that, Now tell
me what happened. Nothing, said Claire. She didn't show up. Are
you sure, of course I am. She could have been watching you,
said Valentine. Did you catch anybody's eye? Why would she have been watching
me? Why go to all that bother just to sit and watch me from
some corner while I ate my dinner? You ate dinner there, too,
asked Coleridge. Yes, it was late, and well it sees your than
going home and making something. What did you have sorry for dinner? What
did you have to eat? Claire shrugged. Actually I don't remember. I
had a few glasses of wine, and I think they may have clouded my
memory a bit. You don't remember what you had for dinner last night,
said Valentine. He glanced at Coleridge before adding, is that normal for you,
inspector? No, of course not. But I was tired. It
had been a stressful day. I wasn't really interested in the food I was.
She looked down and touched a hand to her brow. Coleridge noticed it
was trembling. He opened the top drawer of his desk. I was,
I don't know, I can't remember. She looked up to see Coleridge leveling
a pistol at her. What merely a precaution, Redmond said, Coleridge,
You see, I think your contact did show up last night. But just
as your father had no recollection of meeting Heinrich Volkman, so I believe you
have a recollection of meeting her. She could have programmed you to do anything,
including killing us. Claire stared at him in disbelief. You mean you
think she was a vampire? What happened after you finished your meal? I
don't remember. What do you remember? Nothing? Until I woke up the
next morning in one of the bedrooms there. You spent the night there?
Yes, alone, of course, she started, then thought again when I
was. When I woke up, I checked the bedroom and bathroom for signs
of anyone else, but there were none. And this didn't come as a
shock to you, waking up in a strange hotel bedroom with no memory of
the night before. Yes, absolutely, I've never done anything like that before.
There was a bottle on the bedside table. It was empty, so
you thought you'd had a drop too much and stayed over. Yes, exactly,
but what was I supposed to think? Jesus is not like I was
expecting to meet. Claire suddenly felt faint. Oh my god, did she
give you her name, asked Coleridge. Yes, Claire nodded. I wrote
it in my note book. It was Jessie Collins. I see. Well,
then, it looks like miss Collins is our first real suspect in the
London vampire case. Claire reached for her drink. Now she too noticed her
hand was shaking. She clenched her fist. Why why would she do this
to me? Because she saw you on the news speaking as the head investigating
officer on the crime that she had committed. But once she had fascinated you,
she would have realized you'd been replaced. Yes, by me, said
Valentine. Claire turned to Valentine, looking at him as though she just remembered
him from a dream. I have to know all he knows. She turned
back to Coleridge. That phrase it's in my head. But it's not something
I think, No, said Coleridge. It's something she wants you to think.
It's she who wants you to be at the heart of the investigation.
These are her words to you, her commands. Oh, dear God,
said Claire. Valentine sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Are
there any other phrases in your head that you don't recognize as yours? He
asked. I don't know, said Claire, frightened. Now I don't know
what thoughts are mine and what hers. It's all right, Claire, said
Coleridge. I can help you. Remember everything I told you about how I
worked with your father's doctors, about how he managed to break the spell on
him. Well after Harry's death. Those doctors trained me in the use of
advanced hypnotic techniques. If you will allow me, I can undo this vampires
fascination of you. You'll remember everything that happened, and your mind will once
again be your own. Jesus make it sound so normal. But aren't you
forgetting sir? These advanced techniques gave my dad a heart attack, Coleridge smiled,
don't worry, We've come a long way since. Then, Claire attempted
to weigh her options, but she quickly realized there was only one. Will
you need to use drugs? No, all I need for you to do
is to put down your drink, close your eyes, and trust me.
Claire swirled the last of the liquid in her glass. She didn't even like
whiskey, but she drank the last of it down in one Okay, let's
do it. Who is Heinrich Valkman, an American vampire who can rob a
man of his sanity and kill him with nothing more than fear. But in
our next episode, we rejoin Dame O'Sullivan for a journey underground with unforeseen consequences.
Join me next time for season four, episode eleven. The music you're
listening to is Ahmad ahma I Farried Fa Judd courtesy of Tarranny Records and our
good friend for was the Loud. You can buy the track from Amazon and
Apple Music and stream it from Spotify, YouTube Music, or any of the
other streaming music services that are out there. And so there it was,
season four, episode ten, and I hope you enjoyed it. This episode
corresponds to episode twenty three of Underwood and finish Underground at Patreon. So if
you fancy, you know, just going on with the story. If you
can't wait until next week, then nip over to Patreon, where you'll want
to start that episode twenty four. Obviously, the monthly costs for doing so
at the time of me recording this episode is a mere three dollars a month
or your local currency equivalent, but of course that could have gone up at
some unknown time in the future. Anyway, no news for you this week
regarding the television series, Listeners. It's still on the cards and things are
happening quietly in the background, but there is nothing for me to report to
you at this time. I'm hoping there will be soon, of course,
like you know, really good news about the show definitely happening and official announcements
coming soon and stuff like that. Oh, wouldn't that be great? You
know, this year I will have been doing this, writing fiction and podcasting
it for seventeen years. That's longer than some of you have been alive,
isn't it, or at least some of your children. But yeah, it
would be really really great to finally be able to say, huzzah, Hunderwood
and Flinch. It's definitely going to be a television series, but not this
time. This time, there's no news, just crossed fingers, cross toes
and crossed eyes. And that's how I'll leave you until the moon rises again
over Underwood and Flinch. Thank you for listening, Take care and farewell.
Oh just a quick ps before I go. As you know, I like
to share with you what I'm enjoying on TV at any particular time, because
you know, we're all looking for recommendations, aren't we. There's so much
to see and you know, how do you select? How do you choose?
Recommendations? Go a long way, but anyway, so, we are
currently really enjoying a show called The Consultant on Amazon Prime. It stars Christoph
Waltz as the titular consultant and is brought to the screen by Tony Basgallup,
whose name will be familiar to any fans of The Apple Show Servant because he's
one of the key creators of that too. So check it out The Consultant
on Prime. I'm loving it. Two more episodes to go, and I
reckon we'll probably watch those back to back tonight. Oh such indulgence. Thank you,