Far Hello listeners, and welcome back to the Underwood and Flinch saga. How
are you. I hope you had a good year and that you're all set
to plug in your earbuds and reimmerse yourself into the Underwood and Flinch universe.
When we last were here, David came face to face with Lord Underwoods,
remember that, and things were looking pretty uncomfortable for him. But before we
jump back into the story and find out what happens next, let me just
answer the question that I know some of you who have been following my bumper
chats about a possible Underwood Flinch television series must be dying to know. Is
the Underwood Flinch TV series happening? Well? No, I was of course
hoping that when I returned to bring you this season five, I'd have some
good news about that, you know. For as you'll recall, as season
four was coming to an end, all the elements necessary to make the show
happen, the writer, the reduction companies, and the stars were all in
place and they were all set to go out and start pitching the project networks.
But then things kind of derailed. First, the Hollywood writers went out
on strike, and then the actors joined them, and consequently everything in Hollywood
just ground to a halt. Loads of existing shows and movies were canceled,
as were new projects, and interestingly, ours could have been one of them
had it been sold, you know, before the strikes happened, so we
dodged a bullet there, interestingly. But anyway, by the time the strikes
were resolved and everybody went back to work, it was the end of the
year, and so when the new year began, the process of getting everything
going again started and that process is still ongoing today. So TV wise,
we begin Underwood and Flinch podcast season five exactly where we left off last year.
The show does not exist, but the good news is all the good
things that we had in place last year, the right of the production companies
and the stars, we still have and everyone is still one hundred percent on
board with the project. So there is still all to play for and every
chance that the Underwooden Finch TV series will happen. Sh So let's all cross
our fingers and toes and hope for the very best for the people who are,
you know, behind the TV show and wish them all the luck in
the world. Yeah, And so then with that out of the way.
Let's get back to this, the story that is happening Underwooden Flinch season five,
This bit of the story, this part of the saga is Underwooden Flinch
Underground, Part two in Tannerbris. But that's far too much of a mouthful
to have as a title of a book, isn't it. So as far
as we're concerned, this will just be season five underwood Flinch in Tannerbris,
unless, of course, you're listening at Patreon, where it continues to simply
be called Underwooden Flinch Underground. Why the difference, Ah, Well, it's
complicated. I'll tell you in the outro bumpers after the story bit if you're
interested. But anyway, enough of that, let's get on with our story,
shall we. So if you've been waiting for this season for a year
and you've forgotten everything that went on in the last episode and you need a
detailed recap, then the best thing to do is probably just scroll back through
the podcast in my feed and re listen to the last few episodes of season
four and then begin this once your memory banks are sufficiently recharged. But if
your quicker nimbled mind can still remember the events of season four and you will
need a slight brush up. Then here's the original recap from the Patreon podcast
of this chapter, which will then lead us straight into the story. Last
time, you may recall, David was rescued from an interrogation at the hands
of the See You by a sect hit squad who murdered Guy Valentine and his
pals and dragged David off to a building site somewhere in London, where it
was revealed to him that Lord Underwood is not dead, but is in fact
alive and well, and well, let's start this episode off with the last
bit of episode thirty to refresh your memory, shall we. Daventry, West
and the others parted, and David noticed for the first time another vehicle.
It was parked further back than the cars and was in complete darkness. He
heard the door slam shut, and then the sound of steadily approaching footsteps through
the mud. David squinted into the space between the two sets of headlights,
where the shape of a man now began to emerge. He was tall,
his slick hair refre reflecting the lights as he now moved between them. The
lines of his silhouette spoke of a suit. It was black, black as
the knight that was his domain. No, cried David, shaking his head.
Oh no, oh, yes, Flinch, said Daventry. Unfortunately for
you, on one thing, you are absolutely correct, though not I hasten
to add about the death of Lisa Good. Heavens, what kind of monsters
do you take us for? Toby, Elizabeth, Candle, and Tully bowed
their heads as the man in black passed between them. When he stood next
to Daventry, the man held up an open palm and said the ring.
Daventry placed the ring upon the palm and bowed his head. My lord.
The man examined the ring, though he held it in the shadow of his
body. He saw every detail very clearly, for he did not need light
to see. Solemnly, he shook his head. David sank down on his
haunches, the mud oozing beneath him, and his sudden tears mingling with the
rain as he looked up to the face of his master. Please, my
lord, I'm sacked, you know I am, are you? Flinch,
said Underwood. He hunkered down so his now bearded face was level with David's,
and his green eyes were cold and unforgiving? Are you really? Underwood
and Flinch Season five in Tenner Bress, Written and performed for podcast by Mike
Bennett. This podcast is intended for an adult audience. Listener discretion is advised.
Episode one, Yes, I swear I'd never betray you, never.
I'm your loyal servant, your friend. Underwood held up the ring and this
it's not mine. You were listening, weren't you. It's like I said,
the cop was showing it to me, trying to convince me that he
was the real thing, the mallius. I'm a lord. Please, if
you just listen to the tape, you'll hear it for yourself. David held
Underwood's eyes, despite fearing that at any moment he would feel the vampire reaching
to his mind to fascinate him, to take control of him as surely as
would a hand in a sock puppet. Though he felt he hadn't betrayed Underwood
or the sect in any serious way, he had to say the least had
some seriously disloyal thoughts. Underwood was gazing intently at his face, reading him,
and David felt sure the guilt he felt in his heart would likely be
writ large in every crease and furrow of his expression. Finally, Underwood spoke,
rising as he did so very well, Then let's hear it. Underwood
turned to West, bring the tape machine, West, Daventry, you come
along as well. The rest of you wait here. He started back towards
his vehicle beyond the car headlights, but stopped after a few paces and turned
back to David, who remained on his knees in the mud. Well are
you coming? David was wide eyed with uncertain I. I didn't know if
you wanted me to, but of course I do. Who else am I
interrogating To the man behind David, he said, uncuff him and bring him
to the utar caravaner. The men looked at each other, each hoping the
other knew what Underwood was referring to. Just follow us, said West,
on seeing their amusement. David was pulled to his feet and Tully came over
to remove the cuffs. Once his hands were free and rubbing his wrists,
David was pushed forwards after Daventry and West, who were now following Underwood,
into the dark space between the two sets of headlights. On passing beyond their
glare, David saw clearly the vehicle Underwood had been watching them from earlier.
It was a camper van, a big one, what Americans called an r
V. Underwood opened a door on its side and stepped up into the vehicle.
He switched on a light, and David saw it one once. A
familiar face behind the windscreen. Conchie, his late brother John's former nurse in
Spain, sat in the passenger seat, looking out at him. She was
dressed informally in a khakeyed t shirt. Next to her, behind the steering
wheel was a man in a denim jacket he'd never seen before. He looked
down to Lucian, with his light brown skin, dark eyes, and thick
mop of black hair. David guessed he'd be in his early thirties. Conchie
half raised a hand in greeting, before dropping itself consciously, as if realizing
she may be committing some kind of faux pas. Then she turned away towards
where Underwood was now speaking to her. David could just about hear Underwood's voice,
but his words were lost beneath the squelching of muddy footsteps as they approached.
Now Conchie and the driver were rising from their seats. They went back
in some ed the vehicle, and a moment later disembarked by the door that
Underwood had just used. They then moved to one side as West stepped up
to enter, followed by Daventry. When it was his turn, David stopped
at the door and exchanged a look with Conchie. Hello, she said,
diffidently, as if she were afraid of fraternizing with the enemy. Hi,
said David, before a hand at his back urged him up and into the
r V. He mounted the two steps, holding on to the handrail,
weary of slipping in the mud, tracked in by those ahead of him.
The men who had led him over remained outside and closed the door behind him.
Come in, sit down, said Underwood, beckoning them forward. From
where he sat at a table on the right hand side of a narrow aisle,
David looked around. He'd been in a caravan before, the sort that
resembled a white metal bean on wheels and was once seen all over Britain being
towed behind ford escorts bulging with families. But this thing was in a different
league. This was nicer than some of the flat seed lived in. Next
to Underwood, a young woman sat motionless with her eyes closed, her head
lolling on her shoulder, and her long brown hair hanging over her face.
Her neck was stained with dried blood. David wondered whether she was dead or
just unconscious. On the table was an ashtray full of butts and a Spanish
condiment set consisting of salt and pepper shakers and two small bottles, one of
olive oil one of red wine vinegar. Against the wall, opposite the table
area where a cooker and sink. The sink was full of washing up dirty
pans and plates, while a number of cups and other items nestled in a
draining rack beside it. Deeper inside the RV, in what sufficed as a
room, was a double bed loosely made, and beside it a shower stool
with a damp towel thrown over the door. David looked over his shoulder at
the driver's area. There were two individual seats for driver and passenger, and
above them two single beds, both had been slept in, one loosely made,
the other a mess. It was all very interesting and very ununderwood.
The chorus of Cliff Richard's Summer Holiday started playing on David's mental jukebox. He
quashed it immediately. West, you've got the tape, so you sit here.
Underwood pointed to a spot on the other side of the woman. The
sofa cushioned seat ran around the table in a semicircle and closing it on three
sides. Then let's have you in next flinch, and then Daventry, Hey,
you can park yourself on the end. The table and seat were fixed
to the floor, so West and David had to shuffle in between them.
West sat down, causing the woman to slump forward, her head, striking
the table and upsetting the salt seller. Underwood ignored the woman, but righted
the salt seller. David sat down. He was directly opposite Underwood, which
was no doubt intentional. He resisted the urge to reach across the table and
check the woman for a pulse. Then Daventry sat down next to him to
find himself perched on the edge of the seat. Badjap. Flinch, he
said, shouldering David along and working his buttocks up onto the cushion right.
Then West said, Underwood, let's hear this thing, shall we. West
took out the voice recorder and rewound the tape to the beginning. Then he
pressed play. The men listened to the recording in silence, but when it
got to the point where Sloane began torturing David, Underwood told West to stop
the tape. What's he doing to you, he asked. David inclined his
head and indicated the spot behind his jaw and just below his ear he was
sticking his thumbs in here. Underwood made no reply, but nodded to West
to resume playing the recording. As they listened, everyone kept their eyes on
the machine, except Underwood, whose eyes rested on David throughout his face impassive
except for the smallest trace of a smile. When on the recording, David
said he was going to kill Underwood with a mallet and stake. When the
tape ended, all eyes shifted to Underwood, who continued to regard David thoughtfully.
David held his gaze and resisted the compulsion to again declare his innocence.
Instead, he sat, as did the others, waiting for Underwood to speak.
Underwood finally broke the silence by reaching into his inside jacket pocket and taking
out a packet of jutain and a disposable lighter. He put a cigaret between
his lips lit it, then put the packet and lighter on the table.
David noticed the lighter was adorned with an illustration of a bunch of grapes,
over which was written the word Bordeaux. Well, said Underwood, through an
exhalation of smoke. Quiet the evening you've had, flinch. He turned to
West. This CCTV thing, is it going to be a problem, no,
Milord, said West. CCTV is a means of visual surveillance from which
recorded tapes and made. But our men have erased them all and the other
man in this interview. We've been listening to the Malleus agents all dead.
Oh, absolutely, sir, said Daventry. We left no witnesses. Well
that's all good then, So the only thing we need to decide is whether
Flinchy here is a rat or not. He looked questioningly at first West,
then Daventry, your thoughts, gentlemen. The lawyers exchanged a doubtful look before
West said, really, my lord, it isn't for us to say we
are you are asked for your thoughts, mister West said Underwood, Kindly give
them. There's a good fellow. Daventry spoke up. He gave you up
to the police, Mi lord, we all heard him. Had our team
not arrived when they did, I've no doubt he would have sung his heart
out like the proverbial canary. David was about to speak, but was forestalled
by a raised finger from Underwood. Underwood turned to West and raised an inquiring
eyebrow. West pursed his lips, then gave a slow shake of his head.
Mister Daventry's conclusion is, and I'm sure he'd be the first to agree
with me, merely speculative. We have no way of knowing what mister Flinch
would or would not have said had our team not intervened. He looked at
Daventry, who go a begrudging nod of concession. But I think it's important
that we acknowledge that while mister Flinch did indeed admit his acquaintance with you,
my lord, he also gave his interrogators a good deal of misinformation. I
take that as an intentional act of subversion on his part. David was surprised
but grateful to hear West say this. It was as if he had chosen
to play the defense counsel to Daventry's prosecution. As for the truthful information,
he gave. West continued, it seems to me that the person most likely
to be harmed by his confession, who was mister Flinch himself. How so
asked Underwood, Well, let's take his invitation for the police to check the
veracity of his story on the internet. Had they done so, they would
have learned of the shooting at laf Antasier, the which in turn could potentially,
if not definitely, have resulted in mister Flinch being sent back to Spain,
where, having incriminated himself by fleeing the country, he would be arrested
and very probably end up on trial on several counts of murder charges. We
would most certainly not have defended him against, said Daventry. Underwood considered David
through the smoke that unraveled from his cigarette. To West, He said,
so you think he was sacrificing himself. West shrugged. I don't know if
I'd go that far, my lord, but he certainly wasn't doing himself any
favors. Underwood turned to David, what do you have to say? If
he asked alf Flinch? David straightened up in his seat. Well, to
be honest, my lord, I knew that once the police knew I was.
It was only going to be a matter of time before they connected the
dots back to La f Antasia. Then they'd have learned everything that the Spanish
police knew about the shooting, including the ashes and burnt remains on the rooftop.
The Spanish cops never worked arrows ashes got there or what they meant.
But to these Malleus fellas, they would have made perfect sense, and they'd
corroborate what I told them about you being dead. And so you thought that
this would somehow exonerate you in their eyes. Well, I don't know about
that, but it would certainly have shown that I was being on a level
with them about your being dead. I mean, you couldn't have been the
London vampire if you were dead, so then I couldn't have been working for
you. Hm. But nevertheless, you still could have gone on trial in
Spain, as we're suggested, Maybe, said David, or maybe the Mallius
would have disappeared me down their police station like they said they would. I
don't know. He glanced at West and added, though I do like to
think that if I had ended up on trial in Spain, mister Daventry would
be wrong about the sect not defending me. Hey, there'd be no need
to defend you, Flinch, said Daventry. We'd have got an assassin to
you before I came to that. All right, Daventry, that's enough,
said Underwood. Thank you both for your counsel. You can go now.
I'd like to speak to mister Flinch alone. With that, Daventry, David
and West all edged their way out from around the table. West and David
shuffled round each other, and David resumed his seat. Then, after taking
their leave, the lawyers left the r V and closed the door behind them.
David watched them go, then turned back to Underwood. Underwood ground out
his cigarette among the many butts in the ashtray, some of them stained with
lipstick. Keen as master old Daventry, isn't he? He'd have you strung
up by the balls as soon as look at you. He doesn't like me,
my lord, and I have to say the feeling's mutual. Underwood smiled,
hardly surprising. He picked up his cigarettes and proffered the pack. Fag.
Thanks. David took one and nodded to the light. Bordeaux. You've
been on holiday, my lord, yes, Underwood picked up the lighter and
sparked a flame, a little souvenir I picked up in a bar. David
leaned in to accept the light, as Underwood continued, I seem to have
misplaced my old lighter, along with my cigarette case and my watch. I
don't suppose you've seen them anywhere, have you? The question caught David in
mid inhalation of the strong smoke, and he coughed, Y, oh shit,
these are rough. He grimaced at the cigarette as though it might contain
dried horse manure an a quiet taste, said Underwood, you were saying,
or at least trying to say. David took another drag, and this time
managed to enjoy it. Underwood's oblique reference to the last time they'd seen each
other had given him, for the first time in that long and terrible evening,
a feeling that he might have something akin to an upper hand. He
had something Underwood wanted. Underwood was looking at him expectantly. You ought to
be more careful where you catch fire, my lord. Yes, it's an
occupational hazard, I'm afraid. But anyway, do you have them? Well?
I don't know about the lighter and cigarette case, but the watch,
Yes, the watch, said Underwood, the tinge of impatience in his voice
at odds with his otherwise cool composure. The other things are replaceable, but
the watch, I at least need to know that it's safe. David pushed
a hand down into his jean's pocket, found the chain, then slowly drew
out the watch. He held it up, catching it to stop it spinning,
then checking the front cover. I had a bit of a tumble earlier
this evening, fell down an escalator. But I think it's all right.
He passed the watch to Underwood. Underwood took it, worry in his eyes.
As he inspected the outer casing. He felt down an escalator. Yeah,
I was chasing Damo like you heard on a tape. Satisfied that the
casing was fine, Underwood popped the cover and checked the time piece within.
The ticking so often absent and less prompted, emerged like music to his ears.
As soon as the cover sprung open. He smoothed his thumb over the
undamaged glass face and smiled to read the inscription on the inside cover. Well,
I am glad to see your intact who me or a watch? Underwood
closed the watch, slipped it into his waistcoat pocket and fastened the chain,
then turned to David with a smile for both of you. Taking advantage of
Underwoo's apparent good mood, David reached over to the girl, who lay slumped
head down on the table. He pushed her blood caked hair back from her
neck and felt for a pulse. He found one. It was normal.
He withdrew his hand and sat back. So who's this breakfast? I presume
you presume correctly? We picked her up hitchhiking shortly after we left the Fairy
at Dover. I'd so wanted to take the Channel Tunnel. Such a marvelous
achievement, isn't it, But it turns out they don't allow vehicles with gas
canisters like we have for the cooker, so we had to take the Fairy.
Pity. Next time, I'll drive on with a simple car, or
maybe even go as a foot passenger. Have you ever been in the Channel?
I haven't. No. Where's she going? Who her? David nodded
to the girl. Breakfast, Oh, London, and here she is at
her destination. He spread his hands like a magician. Safe and sound.
You see, all your hard work wasn't wasted after all? Flinch. You've
been a positive influence on me. Not only do I not kill her,
but I provide her with a free taxi service. I'm quite the model citizen
these days. These days, you sound like you have a pretty active lifestyle
for someone who's dead, Underwood chuckled. Really, fledged, surely we're passed
those outdated terms just because I happened to sleep in a coffin, I mean,
for someone who's supposed to have died on the rooftop of a Spanish nightclub
last week. Oh that well? I never said I was dead, did
I? But that's the impression you created, did I? Are you sure
you didn't just read the situation that way? Put two and two together and
make five. What did I do that suggested I was dead? You mean,
apart from faking your own death, I didn't fake my own death,
said Underwood coolly. Well, who did then, because it certainly wasn't me,
no one. There was no fakery of any kind, really, my
lord. All the evidence on that rooftop pointed to the fact that you had
been completely incinerated. And then your lawyers, both here and in Spain,
told me that you were, as I assumed toast gone dead. As a
door nail. Yet all that time, it turns out you were alive,
and going by what I've seen tonight, Daventry and West knew it all along.
So if that isn't faking your own death, what is it? Seemingly
Pleased with David's confusion, Underwood smiled, all right, flinch, I confess
we haven't been playing quite straight with you. But believe me, I only
ever had your best interest at heart. David's eyebrows arched in surprise. Oh
really, well does that include dragging me out to this building site to beg
for my life at gunpoint? Well? Now, but things have got rather
out of hand just lately, haven't they. This isn't how I anticipated things
would go at all. Thought you just settled down at Arthur's estate in Spain
and get on with the rest of your life with Oh. Underwood stopped and
he looked at David with genuine sympathy. By the way, I was so
sorry to hear about what happened to your girlfriend. Thank you. I hope
you know I had no part in that. I give you my word.
Yeah, I know. The ease with which the words came to him surprised
David, but they were sincere. In his truest heart, he'd never really
believed Underwood could have done such a thing. Any doubts that he'd had had
only been as a result of Underwood being the only vampire of his acquaintance.
Underwood gave a tight lipped smile and a small nod of acknowledgment. Then he
said, good. We can come back to this topic in a moment,
but first, if you don't mind, I'd like to go back to the
beginning, which is to say, back to the last time you and I
saw each other. Sure, please do. Underwood took out another cigarette and
was about to light it when there was a knock at the door what he
called The door opened, and West stepped up into view. His eyes touched
briefly upon David, no doubt checking that he was still alive, before he
turned to Underwood. My lord, please forgive the intrusion, but we were
wondering if you were ready to get under way. The chap who granted us
access to the Sight is getting nervous, and since I presume mister Flinch isn't
going to go into the foundations of a building, we really should at least
vacate the area before we attract the attention of the police. But I thought
you said there were no bobbies on the beat anymore, said Underwood. Yes,
er hardly, but nevertheless, West's eyes appealed to Underward. One can't
be too careful. Oh very well, let's be off. And I suppose
we ought to be dropping young Ellie here at her destination? Where was it?
He called, in the direction of the open door. Can't she where
was it Ellie was going from outside? Can't? She called back? Shorditch
my lord? Ah, all right, well you and Natcho could come back
in now. We're going to drop her off and then go straight onto my
house. You have the destination in the air. What's that thing called again?
Con She stepped up into view, and, on seeing David alive,
smiled and said, suddenough, my lord, Yes, we know where we
are going. Oh good show. Right, then let's get under way,
can't She went to resume her seat. West made his exit, and then
the Spanish driver climbed aboard. Underwood stopped him with a cheery natcho. He
turned, Yes, my lord. Underwood held out a hand to David.
Natcho, this is flinch. He used to do your job. Natcho nodded
to David, his eyes making a lightning appraisal of his predecessor. David,
likewise appraising. Natcho nodded in turn, all right, we'll we're going to
Shoreditch to drop this young lady off. Underwood pointed to the still slumbering Elly.
Then we're going straight on to my house. Okay. Natcho dipped his
head in a curt bow. Yes, my lord. He then retook his
seat behind the wheel. As the engine growled into life, David turned back
to Underwood. You've got him, will train, Yes, lovely chap.
Only temporary, mind you, Daventry and West and I yet to find a
permanent replacement for your position. I see, said David, so I'm fired.
The r V began to move, rolling slowly over the uneven ground of
the building site. Underwood lit his cigarette and sighed a stream of smoke.
Well, that brings me back to where we were a moment ago, back
to the rooftop at La Fantasia. I had, by the time we parted
company, come to the conclusion that while you were, after all my initial
doubts at first rate, Guardian, you were not, unfortunately suited to the
job, not because you were bad ad it, but because well, Flinch's
were never supposed to be under duress to serve me. They've always done it
because they wanted to, and for generations, they've been raised in a tradition
that prepares them mentally, spiritually, and physically to want to serve me wholeheartedly.
You, however, were not, And while you rallied admirably towards the
end, I knew it wasn't the life you wanted. And this, he
gestured to himself, This knew me that your good influence created wasn't happy to
keep you enslaved in the job against your will. You frequently made the case
for your freedom, and though at first I resisted, I came to see
that you were right. But that rallying of yours towards the end made things
difficult. I wasn't the only one undergoing a change. You were too.
It was a change that the old me would have relished to Behold, you
were becoming a Flinch, becoming the killer had initially wanted you to be.
Please, He raised a hand to forestall David's attempt at interruption. You'll get
your chance in a minute. Let me finish, He drew on his cigarette,
denied, if you want to Flinch, but trust me, I know
a killer when I see one, and you were becoming a killer. So
how does one fire an employee for doing an excellent job? How does one
break a three hundred year old contract that's as much your birthright to serve as
it is mine to command. I didn't know until that moment at La f
Antasier. There we were, you and I cornered in the car park.
The police were coming, the sun was rising. I had to take care
of Lydia and you had to get away. I suddenly saw that this was
it. This was my final scene, a perfect end to an imperfect life.
I had been somewhat down in the dumps for some time, bright to
my fifty year hibernation, and in many ways I was ready for death,
and here it was like the grim Reaper pointing out the way with a bony
finger. I could die, You could be free, and Lydia that thwart
this natured torment. I'm sorry if you have any lingering love for your late
sister, Flinch, but her betrayal of me, coupled with what she'd become.
Now she had to die, David said, nothing, but gave a
small nod of encouragement for Underwood to go on. And so I went out
onto that rooftop with every intention of ending my life once and for all.
But he closed his eyes, his expression pained. Dear God, it's unimaginable.
You have no idea how Still wincing, he opened his eyes. Have
you tried to hold your hand in a pot of boiling water? I can't
say that I have, my Lord, No, neither have I. You'd
have to be some kind of bloody fool, wouldn't you. Every atom of
your being would fight to pull your hand out of that unbearable agony, and
you would, wouldn't you. You'd pull it out. David nodded, Yeah,
of course, well so did I. No matter how much I wanted
to go on to do the noble thing, I simply couldn't. It was
like walking into a blast furnace. But you must understand it wasn't a conscious
decision on my part. Sorry. No, I am in many ways controlled
by an animal in st flinch. That instinct will often pull me out of
danger when my human wits fail me. It'll change me into a bat,
wolf or mist, whichever one will get me out of danger faster, and
it did so then. But none of my other forms could survive in that
inferno any better than this one. He tapped his chest. I changed into
a burning, blurring, twisting thing man wolf bat missed all anne and everything
in between, as my raw animal instinct struggled to get me out of the
fire. But where did you go, said David, intrigued, not a
stairwell. I've seen you, ah well. As I emerged out from the
doors and onto the roof, I'd seen the layout of the rooftop, its
size, its edges, and most importantly, its raised air ventilation shafts.
And as I twisted like a burning, whirling dervish, it was too the
opening of the nearest shaft that my instinct steered me as mist I poured into
its cool darkness and flowed down into the network of metal ducts, and there
I returned to human form, red raw and smoking, horrifically, burned for
the third time in only a few hours, but still alive. And it
was there that I lay unconscious, slowly healing, until the next night fell.
When I awoke, I was significantly healed, but far from well,
and I was ravenous beyond the confines of my metal casing, I could hear
The place was still teeming with police. Their voices echoed through the ducts,
drifting up from all around. Tempting as it was, to just pour through
a vent and seize the throat of the first man I saw, I knew
that would only invite more trouble, so instead I turned to mist and flowed
with the air current along the shaft. I had little idea where I was
or where I was going, because in that state I have no sense of
sight or hearing. However, I can sense changes in the air around me,
and through the metal sides of the duct, I could feel the resonance
of speaker's voices. So I drifted on, avoiding anywhere I could perceive voices
or movement, until eventually I came to a silent, cool place. I
poured out through the vent and returned to human form to find myself in the
nightclub dance hall, empty and cavernous, and clearly of no further interest to
the police. From the dance hall, I knew my way out and headed
down to the front entrance. The twin doors were closed and locked. I
put my ear to one and listened beneath the drone of passing traffic. I
could hear a police radio. I sniffed at the scene where the doors met,
scenting the air outside and on it. I could smell the interior of
a car, cigarette smoke, and the sour odor of human sweat. A
mingling of personal sense told me there were at least two men. I turned
to mist and poured myself slowly under the door. I could sense the car,
the warmth of its interior, and the men inside it emanated from its
open windows. I drifted past and down towards the rushing air and vibrations from
the main street. Here, clinging to the edges where the buildings met the
ground, I flowed with the breeze away from the club until I reached a
corner. There, I poured around and into a cooler, quieter, less
vibrant space. I flowed deeper within until I encountered a warm obstruction. I
drifted around it, feeling it, sent sing it. It was human and
unconscious. I returned to human form to find myself at the end of an
alley and in the company of a sleeping tramp. He stank of piss and
eye watering BeO and was passed out on god knows how much cheap wine he
had drunk over the course of the day. Poor fellow. It's no life,
is it? In killing him? I felt, as I often do
under those circumstances, that I was doing him a favor. Suposey helps you
live with it? Underwood smiled his Perhaps that's it either way, his life
or mine. As far as I was concerned, it wasn't exactly a conundrum.
I drained him, and then, with my hunger satiated, I lay
there looking up at the stars, feeling my body healing itself, and planning
my next move, which of course, was to return to my Spanish house,
which you so check referred to as Cassa Underwood, to see if you'd
returned. You hadn't, but Conchita had. Hernandez had told her what had
happened at the nightclub, how Lydia and I were dead, and how you
were in jail. He'd then instructed her to come out to the house and
make sure there was no damning evidence anywhere that could be used against you should
the police come out there with a search warrant. I used Consci's phone to
call Hernandez and ascertain your situation, and he assured me that there was every
chance you could be out in no time. Well that was a relief.
It gave me time to continue with my plan to release you from your contract.
All we needed to do was to keep you detained for a few days
so my possessions could be removed from the house, and then once we had
you under the belief that I was dead and that my will bequeathed the house
to you, you would be free to get on with your life and I
would be free to get on with mine, White, said David. So
I could have been at jail sooner. Yes, sorry about that, But
small price to pay to be rid of me and have your old life back,
plus a house and a heap of money, what I suppose. So,
but why not just tell me my services were no longer required, As
I said, I doubted by that time that you'd accept it. I tried
to sack a devoted Flinch once before, and had ended up with him shadowing
me, guarding me at a distance. He called it. He'd come running
in to aid me at every opportunity, constantly trying to show me his worth
and the error of my ways In relieving him of his duties. What did
you do? I didn't do anything, but his brother, the Flinch who
replaced him, became so annoyed that he shot him. Jesus said David,
like I said, Flinches are raised to serve me, and sometimes they do
so without mercy to any one. Still, it's pretty cold, isn't it
his own brother? Oh? They didn't particularly care for one another. Raised
in different homes different parts of the country, they'd only met a few times
at family gatherings, special Flinch events that allow the siblings to mingle and get
to know each other from time to time. But anyway, I feared something
similar might happen with you, that you wouldn't accept my decision. He waived
an open palm to David and Lo and behold here you are. Well.
I'm afraid you flat for yourself. My Lord. I didn't come back to
England try to track you down. I came here because of Lisa and what
he looked down at his hands. What am to ah? Yes? Of
course the Daventry and West contacted us about it this morning. I tried to
get through a couple of times, but couldn't reach us. So they made
the executive decision to return you to Spain without my approval. However, when
they did get through demanding that poor Konshee wake me up and take the call,
which she only did because the windows of this thing are suitably tinted,
I told them to halt that process and to keep you there under lock and
key till I arrived. So that was why they were keeping me in that
house. Yes, but trust you to escape? And so why did that
guy Glover follow me? Then? Why not have him just drag me back?
That was Elizabeth Daventry's idea after speaking with you. She was convinced that
you knew who at least one of these London vampires was. She played a
hunch in letting you go under surveillance in the belief that you might lead us
to him, even though it wasn't what I'd ordered. A bright girl,
she'll go far. But anyway, who do you think did it? Did
what killed Lisa? Oh? I don't know. At first I thought it
was you, but I came to rule you out, or rather Daventry and
West did. They were very convincing. Well, they're lawyers, that's what
they get paid for. Amongst other things. Yeah, amongst other things,
said David, remembering Daventry's smile as he forced him to his knees at gunpoint
to await his judgment. Anyway, Elizabeth, Daventry was right. I realized
there was another possibility, dam Os Sullivan. David nodded, stubbing out his
cigarette. You found him at the station. Yeah, and he is a
vampire. David nodded, his eyes on the ashtray. Yeah. I'm sorry.
It must have come as a terrible blow to learn that your friend could
have done such a thing. David looked up what killed Lisa? No,
Damo didn't kill Lisa. Underwood frowned. Come on, Flinch, I know
you're upset about all this, but really he's a newly turned vampire with no
master to guide him, and he's here in England, in London, and
yet you say he didn't do it. May I ask what leads you to
this bizarre conclusion? Well, because he he told me he didn't and you
believed him. Underwood shook his head. Aghast, that's it. His entire
defense is simple denial, and you're happy with that. Dear, oh,
dear Flinch. Scotland Yard must be kicking themselves for turning down your job obligation.
David contained his annoyance and replied as coolly as he could. Look,
my lord, you're wrong. You didn't hear him. He doesn't want what's
happened to him, neither did I, so believe me. I know how
he feels. Trust me, flinch. He's angry. He wants justice for
what's been done to him. Oh, I see, I know where you're
going with this revenge. Right. He blames me for what's happened to him,
and so he attacks Lisa to get back at me. The look of
mocking condescension on Underwood's face fell. Well, yes, exactly. David shook
his head. Now, now that's what I thought. But he didn't.
He didn't even know Lisa was dead. He told you this, Yeah he
did. And he also told me he didn't do both of the London murders
either. He only did one. Oh, Underwood stroked his newly bearded chin,
which one the priest. David didn't explain further. He had no doubt
that Daventry and West had fully apprized Underwood of the details of the case.
Underwood's reply confirmed this, but not the girl in the skip. No,
and before you say it, Yes, I believe him. Why David suppressed
an eye roll. Look, if he killed Lisa because he wanted to get
back at me, why then didn't he kill me when he had the chance
In the underground tunnel it was pitch black, there were no witnesses. He
could have had a few day, captured me, taken me off to a
safe location, and dragged out my death for as long as he wanted to.
But he didn't. And you know why, because he's not a killer.
Tell that to the priest. I mean, apart from that and his
girlfriend and a hospital orderly, he's not a killer. And he says he
won't be killing anyone else either, because now he's got a system. A
system, said Underwood, And what's that, I don't know, but I
imagine it's similar to the approach you've taken with Ellie here, snacking rather than
killing. Underwood gave a snort of dismissal and turned his nose up. Perhaps,
but I'll need to see myself before I make a final decision. Oh
right, Glover said someone would be judging him. So that's you, then,
is it? Yes? So what does that mean exactly? What's the
punishment? It depends on the crime for killing the priest, just a slapped
wrist for making such a bloody mess, but for killing Lisa with a view
to killing another vampire's guardian. That breaks the code and carries a sentence of
death. The code that says vampires don't kill vampires. Yes, and you
don't see the irony in that, the sheer hypocrisy. It's our law,
flinch, just as it is human law. Not any more, my lord,
not in this country. What they stopped it in the sixties. Some
people want to bring it back, but most people think it's barbaric and uncivilized.
Well, unfortunately for Damo, should I find him guilty, vampire society
remains barbaric and uncivilized. David felt exasperated. He'd forgotten how arguing with Underwood
was always like swimming against the current. He gestured to the packet of cigarettes
on the table. May I help yourself? I have heaps. We picked
up several cartons on the ferry. David took a cigarette and lit up.
Look me, Lord, away from Daimo for a minute. Isn't there another
possibility that we should be entertaining in this? Is there another one? Yeah?
Seeing as how you survived almost certain death on that rooftop back in Spain.
I think there is, And what's that? Pray tell? Lydia.
Underwood shook his head emphatically. No, she couldn't have survived. You did,
yes, But I hadn't been shot through the heart. So what your
animal instincts save you? Why couldn't her animal instincts have done the same?
Flinch. My instincts took me to the only place there was to go up
there, the ventilation shaft. I think I would have remembered if i'd bumped
into Lydia inside it. Well, what about another shaft? They are all
connected. I would have heard her, since her trust me, I was
alone, But then somewhere else There was nowhere else, Flinch. Clearly you'd
want to believe that there was, but there wasn't. As you said yourself,
if she'd somehow managed to get back into the safety of the stairwell,
you would have met her when you were coming up, shot and burned half
to a crisp, even if she were a wolf or a bat. And
I think you'd remember running into a burning wolf, wouldn't you? But what
about mist? Did you see any mist? You've seen me? Do the
transformation, so you know what it looks like. No, I didn't.
But maybe she got them before I came up down where there was nowhere to
go in the building that wasn't soon buzzing with police. I don't know,
I admit I don't know. But all I'm saying is we should at least
entertain the idea. If you made out of there, then so could she
have? Oh very well, said Underwood, with all the conviction of a
parent to a child who says his invisible friend is sitting beside him at the
table. I'll entertain the idea. Good. And there's another possibility too,
said David, now keen to lay out all his suspicions. Some enemy of
yours from the past, someone with a grudge against the Flinch family. Now,
anyone with a grudge against the Flinches is dead. When you say anyone,
are you including vampires? Of course I am. We vampires eh our
grievances, Flinch We come together to discuss and resolve them, just as any
tribe or nation does, in order to avoid war between the sects. You
know about the other sects, don't you, Yeah, Elizabeth told me so.
Have there been any grievances against the Flinches. Well, yes, obviously,
but they're all resolved, even the worst of them. Okay, but
what if deep down a resentment festered. On the surface, it's all shake
hands and be mates, but underneath they're still thinking one day I'll have you,
and then word gets out in vampire society that you're dead, and that
vampire then thinks, now's my chance at long last. Are you writing a
book here, Flinch, because it certainly sounds like you are. I'm serious,
my lord. Isn't that even plausible? Underwood looked doubtful. All vampires
respect the code, Flinch. Can you be certain of that, Mi lord?
Really certain? Because, as I'm sure Daventry and West have told you,
the police think there are two killers in the London vampire case, not
one. We know Demo is one of them, but who's the other?
Assuming Demo is telling you the truth about not doing both, Mahadas said Underwood.
I mean maybe he just changed his modus operanda, and that's what's got
the plot in tizzy. He is learning how to kill, after all,
one tries different things. Yeah, assuming Demo's not lying and keeping an open
mind, could there be a vampire out there with a grudge against you or
my family that was emboldened enough by the belief that you were dead to attack
Lisa. Underwood smoked thoughtfully for a moment, as if considering possible suspects,
though David sensed the vampire already had his answer. If Underwood was considering anything,
David thought it was whether or not he was going to tell the truth.
Then Underwood stubbed out his cigarette and sighed a stream of smoke around the
words all right, yes, yes, yes, there are plenty of them,
but none whom I actually believe would with respect, My lord, you've
been effectively dead for fifty years. People change, This is true, Underwood
conceded, And so the vampires just look at you and Ellie here time what
she'd have been weighted down in wet concrete back at that building site. But
look at you now, you're a change man. Underwood laughed, ha ha,
flinch to Shay. All right, I'll allow the possibility of both Lydia
and some reckless, fanged fool from my past being responsible. But let's leave
that there for now, shall we. He got up and went to a
refrigerator. A Daventry tells me you're drinking. Yeah, sort of, though
you don't need to worry. It's not like I'm on the clock anymore,
is it? Not that have made any difference? Said Underwood, amused.
As he brought the door wide. Three bottles of Spanish beer clinked against each
other, where they nestled amongst cartoons of orange juice, milk and tomato juice.
On its inside, there were also two bottles of mineral water. Underwood
glanced back over his shoulder to see David eyeing the beer bottles with interest.
Can I offer you a drink? David pulled his attention from the beer up
to Underwood's face. He could see the vampire was curious testing him. Thanks,
I'll have a water, good man. Underwood returned with two bottles of
water. He broke the seals on the top and handed one to David.
So no hard feelings about what you leaving me in jail, deceiving me,
sacking me, making me beg for my life. Yes, I'm sorry about
all those things and the rest, But as I said, I only ever
had your best interests at heart. I didn't want to be the cause of
your ruined life, and I still don't. But much as I'd rather you
went back to Spain and tried to start a new life. I know now
that Lisa has been murdered that you won't, so we may as well work
together what He raised his bottle in a cautious toast. Hang on, are
you saying you want me back now as guardian? No? No, everything
I've seen said on that matter still holds true. But on finding Lisa's killer
and ending the career of the London vampire, Yes, I think we should
work together. David was surprised. But what about what Daventry and West and
Henandez were saying about me having to go back to Spain. I thought I
had to be on hand there in case the police wanted to interview me again.
Underwood scratched his chin, the short hairs rasping beneath his fingers. Well,
yes they might, but they probably won't. Hernandez did a much better
job in getting you off the hook you've been led to believe. I doubt
you'll be called upon again, except as a witness when it eventually goes to
trial, but that won't be anytime soon. And anyway, even if I
did demand you go back, he wouldn't, would you no, my lord,
as I thought, so, what do you say? David raised his
bottle. Partners Underwood laughed, ha ha, No, don't be ridiculous.
No, And I say we'd be working together. I mean in much the
same way as before. But you wouldn't be my guardian per se. You
wouldn't be contracted to anything or have to prepare my meals or kill anyone at
my behest. We'd just be, I don't know, on the same team
with you as team captain. Obviously. Yes. David took a sip of
his water. A thought occurred to him, and he grinned. Does this
mean I wouldn't have to call you master? If I said you did?
Would you walk away? David considered a moment, then shook his head.
No. Underwood smiled. Then it's decided. He raised his bottle inclining its
neck to David in a toast. Here's to the end of the London Vampire.
David ray his bottle to Underwood and flinch milord or flinch and Underwood Even
Underwood arched and eyebrow. Nah, maybe not. David tapped his bottle against
Underwoods. Oh well, cheers and so listeners. Underwood and flinch are back
together again by putting their heads together. Will they find the London Vampire before
the Mallearth finds them? Join me next time for episode two of underwood and
Flinch season five. The music you're listening to is Ahmad Ahma by Farried Fajad
from the album an Rusa Volume four, courtesy of Tarannay Records and our good
friends kawas Almlude. You can stream the track on Spotify, Apple Music,
YouTube Music and all the other good music streaming apps out there. And so
there we are, my friends, Underwooden Flinch season five, episode one,
and I hope you enjoyed it. So then, what's all this about me
calling this season in tannebris? Hmm, Well, I'll tell you. When
I was writing and podcasting this part of the saga at Patreon, it was
all just Underwooden Finch, Underground. I had at that stage lost all interest
in ebooks, audio books, publishing agencies, you know, all that stuff
that writers are traditionally motivated by, you know, because I was at Patreon.
All my energies were focused on writing and releasing podcasts at Patreon because that
was what was paying the bills and you know, keeping the proverbial wolves from
the door. So I wasn't giving any thought whatsoever to the shape of the
novels or audiobook releases. Don't do those, you see, just check my
Amazon and my audible pages. Books one and two are there. But that's
it. And why well, because they don't sell. Because being seen being
found by new readers or listeners in the Amazon EcoSpheres is like I don't know,
being seen on a city street by someone flying in a plane at twenty
thousand feet. You're as visible as a speck of dirt on a muddy road,
a single ant in a bustling ant hill. The returns I get from
my efforts in making those things are simply not worth the labor and the hassle.
You know. You might think it's a lucrative business, the old ebooks
and all that, but it's not. Oh No. I just focused on
Underwood and Flinch at Patreon, where Underground gradually grew to a whopping sixty episodes
before I finally ended it and went onto the next volume in the saga.
However, by the time that happened, Underwood and Flinch had been optioned for
television, and that was when I kind of had a rethink about the whole
conventional publishing thing, because if the TV show does get made, then there
are going to be new audiences out there who consume media in different ways than
this. Some people like to buy paperback books primarily, some people listen to
audiobooks primarily, and some people like to use their Kendle. They're not my
audience right now. That's not to say that you don't enjoy a book,
but you know what I'm saying. And so then if that happened, but
if people started buying books and whatnot, then Amazon's algorithms, which currently completely
ignore me, are going to become aware that my books are starting to move
a little and so that's when they will elevate them. You know, in
terms of visibility. It'll be like my single ant in the Ants Hill suddenly
getting zapped by a ray gun that makes it the size of a house.
Then people could see it, and then books would start to sell. And
so I realized that maybe now there is a point in publishing underwood Flinch Underground.
However, in terms of a paper book, if I'm going to be
the person who's publishing it, as I do with the first Underwooden Flinch,
book through a print on demand company called Lulu. The cost of that book
is going to be extortionate. Right now, the Underwooden Flinch Book one hardback
is on sale at Lulu for forty seven euros and sixty two cents in American
dollars. That's over fifty bucks. That's outrageous for a novel. You know,
that's not my pricing, that's the publisher's price. It's that high because
the way they work, they make one copy at a time. They don't
do a print run of like thousands and thousands of books, which costs much
less to do. They just do one. They get one order and they
make one book. And Underground, as it is now a Patreon sixty episode
podcast, is much bigger than Underwood and Flinch Book one, So the price
would be much higher. And you have to say, my cut of that
high price is peanuts. But it looks like, you know, to the
casual observer, whole BlimE me that Mike Bennett's really making a fortune off me,
isn't me challenging what seventy dollars for a book? Good God, what
a ripoff? It makes me look terrible, doesn't it. And furthermore,
you just let's say somebody does buy it. When they get it, it's
going to be massive. It'd be really big in your hands, you know,
big, heavy, unwieldy. It's just not practical. And of course,
there is also the possibility that if the Underwood Finch television series does get
made and the interest in my books does materialize, then possibly so would a
deal with the book publisher. Goodness gracious, imagine that. Yes, well,
you know, stranger things have happened at sea. But even then,
you know, they the publisher is going to look the size of Underground,
and they'll tell me exactly what an editor I spoke to about the book's word
count told me. That's too big. They'll tell me to edit it down
to a smaller size. Cut this scene, cut that, cut that plotline
completely, because it's still going to be a very big book. And so
I thought then, after all that, I thought it would probably be better
and more attractive to would be buyers and two publishers if Underground was split into
two books, Part one Underground and Part two in Turnerbris. After all,
it's an installment in a saga, isn't it. It doesn't have a conventional
beginning, middle, and ending structure. It's the book that lies between the
book that comes before it and the book that comes after it. And so
that is why this season of Underwooden Flinch is called in Tennibris. It is
now the fourth novel in the Underwooden Flinch saga, which goes Underwood Flinch,
Blood and Smoke, Underground in Tenebris, the Devil of Claverton, which is
at Patreon, and the work currently in progress at Patreon, which doesn't have
a name yet. It's just called season eight for the time being. However,
if you were to become a patron of underwood and Flinch at my Patreon,
you would go there and you wouldn't find in Tenebris, because, as
I said earlier, I hadn't yet made that decision. What you would find
is the original big Underwooden Flinch Underground podcast. But don't worry if you were
thinking of going over there, I will let you know on each episode of
season five how it corresponds to the same episode at Patreon. You know,
so you know where to start listening when you go there. This episode,
for example, at Patreon is Underground episode thirty one, so you would need
to start, of course at Underwood Flinch Underground, episode thirty two. Is
that all clear? Of course it is. You're a bright person. You'd
have to be. You're an Underwood and Flinch listener, aren't you. Huzzah
haa oh phew. I'm glad that's out of the way. I can tell
you. I always dread having to explain things like that, but I have
to now and again because Underwooden Flinch is a work in progress. Things are
always changing with how it's laid out and in which medium at what place,
which makes it all rather confusing for people over time, and so I have
to explain or I get in undated with emails asking what the flip is going
on. And the funny thing is, of course the TV show may never
actually happen, in which case my work remains just an ant in the Amazon
ant hill. But there you go. Case, Sarah, Sarah, all
we can do, and I'd be grateful if you did this, If we
could all cross our fingers and toes and send out optimistic hopes and wishes out
into the universe for an Underwood and Flinch television series and so on that optimistic
note, Ladies and gentlemen, we arrive at the end of the episode.
I hope you enjoyed it. I know I've enjoyed bringing it to you,
and I look forward to being back in your ears again next week with episode
two of season five. But until then, when the moon rises again over
Underwood and Flinch, take care and farewell.