Hello listeners before we begin. This episode is a big one, and for
that reason, I have to put additional ads in it somewhere in the middle,
preferably for but I'm gonna keep it down to two because there's just no
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I really don't want to break the flow of the story, you know,
with ads, So for this reason, I'm sticking the additional ad break in
when the story bit ends just after the outro music credit. There will then
be a couple of ads, and then I'll be back with details of what
to expect in the Underwooden Flinch universe going forward in twenty twenty three. Thank
you, it's a good one. Hello, Hello, and welcome, ladies
and gentlemen to the season finale of Underwooden Flinch Season four. I hope you're
well and all set for this exciting final episode. It is a bite,
so to get maximum enjoyment out of it, I recommend that you listen at
a time when you won't be interrupted, So load up the brandy and cigars,
hanger do not disturb sign around your neck and let's go as usual.
Twenty twenty three ME will now shimmer out of focus and be replaced by twenty
seventeen ME with the recap from the original Patreon episode previously on Underwood and Flinch
Underground. On escaping from the Sect House in London, David met up with
a journalist, Ronnie Bishop, at a pub, the King's Bay Tavern,
near Hoburn Station. But little did David know that his escape from the Sect
House hadn't been as clever as he thought. He was being followed by a
SECT operative named Glover. Ronnie was also being followed, though little did he
know either by two agents of scotland Yards Occult Crimes Unit the OCU, named
Whittemore and Sloan Now. When David spotted Damo across the street and ended up
in a chase after him through Hoban Station, he in turn was also being
chased by Whitmore and Glover. When Whitmore caught up with David and was about
to arrest him, Glover caught up with Whittemore and shot him with a taser.
Glover told David to follow him and he'd get them both out to safety,
but instead David shot Glover with a taser that he'd stolen from one of
his minders at the sect house and fled into an underground tunnel after Damo.
In our last episode, following a conversation with Damo in the tunnel that put
things right between them, David surrendered himself to police firearms officers, and so
we begin this episode in the company of Detective Chief Inspector Guy Valentine of the
OCU, who you may remember was dispatched by Coleridge shortly after he received the
call from Sloan at Hoban Station. Well, if you still have any questions,
don't worry, you'll be filled in as we follow Inspector Valentine as he
descends into Underwood and Flinch. Season four Underground. Written and read by Mike
Bennett. This podcast is intended for mature audiences. Listener discretion is advised.
Episode seventeen. Upon arrival at Hoburn Station, Guy Valentine identified himself to the
Transport Police officers now in position at the station entrance. A member of the
station staff then escorted him through passages closed to the public to where the suspects
involved in the incidents were being held. Things had escalated since DS Phil Sloan
had called Coleridge during his hypnotism of Redmond to report what had happened on the
Ronnie Bishop's surveillance at the Kingsway tavern. Since then, Sloane had called Valentine
twice, once to say that Whittemore had been tazed, and then again to
say that they had two suspects now in custody, one of them the man
that Bishop had been talking to, a man known only as Dave. Now,
Valentine's guide pushed open a door onto a narrow corridor crowded with Transport Police
armed response officers. Through the cluster of black helmet, Valentine spied the bald
head of Phil Sloane. He was talking to one of the armed response officers
and a civilian. Sloane said Valentine as he came up behind him, what's
the situation all right, gav DCI Valentine. This is Sergeant Howard, his
team apprehended the suspects, and this is mister Albershari, the station manager.
Valentine nodded to both, and Sloane continued, we have two suspects. The
first we believe shot DII Whitmore with the taser, and the second one Dave.
We believe, then tasered the first guy before legging it into the train
tunnel, right when they're working together. Do you think we can't be sure?
Sir? There were no witnesses to their conversation, but the fact that
they both had tasers and the same type and brand at that it makes you
wonder, yes, said Valentine, glancing around and speaking of tasers, where's
Whittemore? Is he all right? Yeah, he's all right, sir.
Sloan cocked his head to a door beside him. He's in here with the
suspect, Dave. All right, let's have him out here, then,
shall i. Sloane knocked at the door and opened it. He leaned into
the room and beckoned to someone within to come outside. A moment later,
Whitmore emerged and closed the door behind him. How you doing, Jeff,
asked Valentine. Understand you've had a bit of a shock. He grinned,
yes, Gilf, said Whittemore, managing to keep his eyes from rolling at
the lame joke. I'm fine, but it d like fuck, I can
tell you. Yes, sound bad. Good to see you're still in one
piece, mate. Then Valentine turned to Sergeant Howard sergeant, the guy you
took out of the tunnel, was he armed? No, sir, it
looks like the tozer he dropped at the platform was the only weapon he had.
We searched the tunnel as far as he went, and away beyond,
just in case he'd thrown something, but it was all clear. Did he
give you any trouble? Nah, He's as good as gold. I think
once he realized there's nothing in them tunnel was but darkness and I voltage,
he was glad of a hand getting out of here. All right, Well,
good work, sergeant, we'll take over from here. Valentine turned to
the station manager, mister alba Shari. At the station is a press fully
fitted with CCTV? Yes, absolutely, said Albishari. We should have everything
recorded from the moment these men burst into the station. I could show you
if you like. The surveillance room is just down here on the left.
Thank you, but not right now. I need to discuss a few details
with my men. However, I'd be grateful if you could make me a
copy of all the footage that you have over the last couple of hours,
all cameras, if you don't mind, not just those covering the relevant locations.
Of course, I'll see to it immediately, thank you. Once Albishari
and Howard were gone, Valentine led Whitmore and Sloane down the corridor out of
earshot of the Transport Police officers standing guard outside the doors where the suspects were
being held. All right, Jeff, so what have we got here?
How did you go from following a fleet street hack to getting yourself tazared?
Whitmore told Valentine everything that had happened from when their surveillance if Ronnie Bishop had
led them to the Kingsway tavern, through what they'd heard of the conversation with
Dave up to the moment that he'd been tazared from behind and had blacked out.
Then Sloan took over the story, explaining how Bishop had rushed over to
the station as soon as the armored response units and ambulances had arrived. Sloane
had tailed him down into the station, up to the police cordon at the
platform entrance, but had then abandoned him after speaking with the uniformed officer and
learning that Whittemore had been tazared. Sorry about that, sir, but Bishop
wasn't going anywhere and I felt my duty was to Jeff and to try and
catch the buses has shot him. Well, that's understandable, said Valentine.
I would have done exactly the same thing, Thank you, sir, though,
mind you, for what it's worth, I'd give you pretty good odds.
That bishop's over at the pub right now type in all this up for
tomorrow's edition. We can still get on him if you want. No,
we can let Bishop slide for now. I was hoping that he'd lead us
to something, but nothing like this. So the two guys we've got in
custody at Dave and this other fellow shot Jeff, do we have any ideas
who he is? No, sir, said Whitmore. Neither of them said
anything, except Dave, who said he wants to phone his lawyer. Yes,
I'll bet he does. You haven't given him the call, have you,
no, sir, good. Has the other guy asked for anything?
Nope, he's as tight as a drum. Okay, said Valentine. Well,
I don't want to have a word with both of them myself before we
moved them to Falconbridge. I'd like you too to come in with me,
but stand behind me on either side of the door and look intimidating. He
grinned. You could do that, caun't you. I'm sure we'll manage,
sir, said Sloane. Good. Well, let's start with Dave, then,
shall we. David sat on a plastic chair with his hands cuffed behind
his back. He was staring at a Keep Calm and carry On mug on
the table before him. It was dirty, a ring of milky brown residue
clung to its once white in sides, and every now and again he'd get
a whiff of the abandoned dregs of coffee in the bottom of it. There
was an open packet of chocolate hobknobs beside the mug, and he could see
the next biscuit tantalizingly within. His stomach rumbled and he looked away. The
police beholding him in what appeared to be a staffed tea room. The table
he sat at was the centerpiece. Behind him was a kitchen space with a
sink full of dirty cups, a gently buzzing fridge, and of course,
a kettle. David glanced up at the cop standing in front of the door.
He was one of the firearms officers who had led him out of the
tunnel, he stood staring straight ahead, his eyes shielded by his black combat
helmet and his machine gun slung across his chests, with his hands resting on
the grip and stock. I don't suppose there's any chance of a cup of
tea, said David. The CoP's eyes shifted to David, then away again.
But what about taking off the handcuffs? Not like I'm going anywhere,
is it? That was when the door opened. The cop stepped aside and
Valentine walked in, with Whittemore and Sloan following behind. Thank you, officer,
said Valentine to the cop. Wait outside, please. Sloane held the
door open for the cop and closed it after he had gone. Then he
and Whittemore took up positions on either side of the door, as they had
been instructed, their eyes resting on David. Valentine drew out the chair opposite
David and sat down. From his pocket, he took out a compact voice
recorder, turned it on and placed it on the table. So Dave,
it is Dave, isn't it. David looked at the small silver machine.
Aren't you supposed to say you's present and stuff? This isn't a formal interview.
We'll do that later at the station. This is just a he shrugged,
think of it as an informal chat. So your name's Dave, correct,
David said, thing, all right, Well, I'm a detective inspector
with Scotland Yard. You're in very serious trouble, sir, I want my
lawyer. Valentine smiled. I'm afraid that won't be possible just now. Well,
then, I'm afraid your informal chat won't be possible either. Valentine continued
as if he hadn't heard. I was hoping you might be able to clear
up a few details for me. Earlier on you were speaking to a journalist
chap called Ronnie Bishop about the London vampire, A little information swap, I
understand. David was startled to hear that they knew this, but managed to
keep his expression deadpan. He stared at Valentine in silence. So what's your
interest in the vampire? Dave, no comment. It seemed very well informed
on the subject a contact at Scotland Yard. I believe I think you've got
me confused with someone else. Inspector Valentine took a biscuit from the packet on
the table and bit into it. Then, as if noticing for the first
time that David didn't have one, he tipped the open end of the packet
towards him biscuit. David looked at the pack then back to Valentine. I'm
handcuffed. Well, that needn't be an obstacle. I can feed it to
you if you like. He took another biscuit from the packet and held it
poised in front of David's face, as if to post it into the letter
box of his mouth. David instinctively drew back from the table, and Valentine,
on seeing his look of mild disgust, raised his eyebrows. Not hungry,
you surprise me. I would have thought you'd be famished after chasing what's
his name Damo through the station and into the tunnel like that. Very reckless
of you, and very dangerous too. He must be very important to you.
Valentine took a bite of his biscuit. Who is he? Who's who?
Damo? I don't know anyone called Damo. No, well that was
the name you were repeatedly calling out to the man you were chasing. But
we can show you on CCTV if you like. Valentine smiled on seeing a
ripple of unease flicker over David's features. Oh yes, they caught the whole
thing on CCTV, from beginning to end, so you see, there's really
no point in all this denial, Dave. Everything you did is now a
matter of record, So why don't you stop digging around and just tell us
what we want to know. David felt a prickle of sweat to break along
his hairline. He smiled with a confidence he didn't feel. I'll be happy
to as soon as I can find my lawyer. Valentine regarded David steadily.
He knew all the tells of a man who was hiding something, and a
great many of them were playing out on the face before him. He smiled,
Tell me, Dave, do you believe in vampires? What vampires?
Do you believe in them? David gave a dismissive snort. Of course,
not. Well, that's not what you told Ronnie Bishop, is it.
You said there were two killers responsible for the London vampire murders, and that
both of them were vampires, real ones. No I didn't, Valentine indicated,
Whittemore and Sloane behind him. You didn't notice my two friends here when
you were in the King's Way tavern, did you. They were sitting at
the next table to you, behind Ronnie Bishop. They were equipped with some
very sensitive audio recording equipment that picked up and recorded every word you said.
This was a lie, of course, but Valentine knew there was no way
that David could know that. So, like the CCTV footage in the station,
it's all a matter of record. David licked his lips, his mouth
dry. I've got no comment on that or anything else, Valentine sighed.
Look, I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation you're in here,
Dave. We're not trying to catch a shoplifter or a bicycle thief.
We're hunting a monster that's killed at least two people and will kill a lot
more unless we stop him. So forgive me, but I'm in no mood
to be playing that. I want my lawyer game. Either you tell me
what I want to know right now, or we are going to have to
hurt you. Bullshit, you can't do that. It's in fucking Russia.
I've got rights rights. Well, yes, normally, of course, but
due to the nature of the threat that this city is currently facing. I'm
afraid you're right, sir, something of an obstruction to our progress and therefore
completely dispensable. Without turning, he gestured to Sloan to come over. My
colleague here, like me and everyone else in our department, is trained in
certain enhanced interrogation techniques, ways to hurt you without leaving any physical trace.
I personally don't enjoy torturing people, but he does, and it's an acquired
taste, I suppose. He nodded to Sloan to go around behind David.
David's eyes followed Sloan as he walked past him. You can't do this,
he said, nervously. It's illegal. Oh no, it's not, said
Valentine. You see, Dave, there are laws that you don't know about,
laws relating to certain crimes and certain kinds of criminals that this country has
been waging a secret war against for over a hundred years. And right now,
my friend, you are suspected of being one of those criminals, and
as such you have no rights whatsoever. He nodded to Sloan. David felt
his head gripped and fingers close over his face. He tried to twist away,
but With his hands cuffed behind his back, he couldn't find the leverage,
and Sloane's grip on him was powerful. He felt Sloane's thumbs tracing the
back of his jawline and then shooting agony as the policeman dug them in hard
immediately beneath his ears. David screamed, but Sloane continued to press his grip
like a clamp on David's head. Then Valentine nodded to Sloan, and the
pain stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Jesus. David gasped. He
can't. She can't fucking do that, can't we, said Valentine. Let's
try again. I'm pretty sure we can No. David ducked his head forwards
away from Sloan. Fuck, just don't. All right, I'll get it,
do you, said Valentine. I hope so as I say. I
don't enjoy torture. I'd much rather we could have a nice, civilized little
chat. Okay, okay, yes, my name's David. That's better,
said Valentine with a smile. So David, what can you tell me about
the London vampire? Well? I'm not him, for one, thinks you
can count me out at this mysterious criminal class you say you've been at war
with for a hundred years. I'm just a bloke and a normal human bloke.
Oh yes, we know that my men did a discreet UV test on
you earlier on. He reached inside his jacket pocket and took out a slim
pen light. He aimed the end at David's face, clicked it on,
and a tiny blue light dazzled David's eye. See, if you were a
vampire, you'd do a lot more than WinCE. Your eye would be on
fire. So no, we don't think you're a vampire, Dave, but
we do suspect you may be aiding and abetting one. And if that turns
out to be the case, your fate will be the same as theirs.
And what's that? What death? Of course what? David looked from Valentine
to Whittemore for a hint of bluff, but there was none. You kill
people who aid an abt vampires. Yes, we can't have vampire servants in
prisons telling the inmates that these monsters really do exist, that we exist,
now, can we? Oh no, So we disappear them, just as
we do their vampire masters, and who are you the ones that have been
at war with vampires for over one hundred years. I'm the one asking the
questions, Dave, not you. And by the way, I notice that
you're no longer talking about vampires as if they don't exist. You speak of
them almost as if their existence is as familiar to you as fish and ships.
And that only convinces me all the more. That you know who our
vampire is, I don't. I swear to God, I'm just a guy
trying to find out who the killer is. Why Because David tried to assemble
a credible lie. With his head bowed, he said, because I read
Ronnie's story in the paper. I thought if I could find a vampire,
then I'd get the scoop. You're a reporter, Well not yet, but
I want to be, I see. And so you contacted Ronnie because you
thought that he would give you information that would lead you to the vampire.
Yeah, so you could break into the newspaper business. Yeah. Valentine looked
up at Sloane, where he stood behind David, and they exchanged cynical smiles.
Well, Dave, either you're a total dickhead or your or a complete
fucking liar, Which is it? David raised his head a dickhead. Yes.
Valentine nodded, you are. David's head was seized again and Sloane's thumbs
found their marks immediately and pushed stop. Stop. David screamed, his legs
thrashing against the legs of the chair. Valentine nodded to Sloan. Sloan stopped
pressing and opened his hands, and David tore himself away. Then Valentine said,
who is the London vampire? Dave? Is it Damo? No,
Jesus, I don't know. You know, if you come operate with us,
you've nothing to fear. It's nothing to fear. Jesus, you just
said you disappear me for fuck's sake. Well that's only if you're aiding and
a betting Dave. If you turn against the vampire, help catch him,
that changes things completely in your favor. The only people I need protection from
a you lot. Valentine smiled, Oh, I know what you're thinking.
You're thinking we can't help you, right, that these creatures are too powerful,
that we have no idea what we're up against. Well, let me
tell you you couldn't be more wrong. I told you We've been fighting these
things for over a hundred years. So let me ask you this. Who
is winning? Is this some kind of vampire world? No, this is
our world, not theirs. And do you know why, because you're winning.
Oh, We're more than winning, Dave. We have fucking won.
And that is how you know you can believe me when I say we can
protect you. He reached into his jacket pocket and took out his ring.
He placed it on the table with the raised motif facing Dave. I believe
you know what this is. David looked at the ring. Was this the
same ring that Ronnie had described to him, the kind that he said Coleridge
war the same as was worn by the vampire hunters in Ronnie's Victorian story.
David tried to keep his voice and expression nonchalant as he looked back to Valentine.
It's a ring, So what take a closer look, would you?
David bent forwards and looked closely at the raised motif. It was as Ronnie
had described, a cross set in the center of a circle, the ends
of the cross slightly fanning outwards, the vertical arm slightly longer than the horizontal
like a crucifix or a hammer. Very nice, But I don't know why
you think i'd know what it is because Ronnie Bishop told you what it is,
assuming of course you didn't know already when that was just a story that
he'd heard. I didn't believe it was real, and neither does Ronnie.
Valentine sighed. Look, I'll say it again one last time. We can
help you, we can protect you, but only if you cooperate with us.
Tell me what you know, and preferably here and now, because otherwise
we'll have to take you to my police station. And believe me, that
is the last place on earth you want to be, all right, because
that's where I disappear, is it? Valentine nodded slowly, Yes, that
is where you disappear. David felt sick. He looked from Valentine to the
ring to Whittemore, where he stood barring the door. No one knew where
he was, not even the sect. Maybe their people in the force would
find out what had happened to him eventually, how he had been captured,
taken into custody, and then what murdered. He looked at Valentine. Ronnie
said the ring was a sign of membership of some kind of secret society called
the Mallee. I don't remember Malli society, something like that, the malle
is, said Valentine. Yeah, that's it. David saw a certain satisfaction
in Valentine's eyes. So is that you then you're this Mallee as society.
Yes, we are. So what is that? Then? It is what
you say, a secret society, one dedicated to wiping vampires from the face
of the earth. All right, and how's that working out for you?
Until lately it's been working out very well. But now, of course we
have this London vampire problem and the only lead we have is you. Look,
I'm no lead inspector. I'm just a He felt Sloane's hands close on
his head. No wait, Sloane's thumbs touched the soft spots behind his jaw
and began to press Please just tell me the truth, Dave, starting with
your full name, my name, David hesitated. I Sloan pressed his thumbs
in. David screamed French. The pain stopped immediately, and Sloane's hands fell
away from him. Valentine's eyebrows rose flinch. That's right, he knows,
thought David. He knows the name shit, of course he fucking does.
She don't hunt vampires for one hundred years and not come across at least one
of us. Valentine glanced up at Sloane and around to Whittemore. Their WTF
expressions mirrored his own. He turned back to David. It doesn't Underwood mean
anything to you. David tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry.
Can I have a glass of water? Valentine waved Sloane to get him a
drink. Sloane filled a coffee mug from the draining board with water and brought
it to David's lips. David sipped at the water, his mind racing.
They knew who he was. There was no point in denying knowledge of Underwood
now, but that was all they knew. They couldn't have known where Underwood
had been for the last fifty years. If they had, they would have
destroyed him and Arthur two, by the sound of it, years ago.
He stopped drinking, spilling water as he raised his head from the mug.
Yes, it does. Valentine sat back and for a moment a range of
emotions played over his face, ranging from astonishment to awe before he said,
Oh, my fucking is it him? It's that who we're looking for.
Underwood said David, Yes, Lord Daniel Underwood, the vampire. Oh so
you know him, nin do you? Valentine almost laughed, know him?
Oh we know him all right, Jesus Christ, is it? Is it
him? No? David shook his head. He's dead. He's been dead
for fifty years. I'm the last of my family line. I came here,
came to London because well, I was worried. Worried what worried that
our killer actually is Underwood, that he's not dead here? And so what
were you planning to do? Kill him? You kill Underwood with what?
I don't know, Mallet and Steak. I suppose I hadn't planned that far
ahead. I was just trying to find out who or what the vampire was,
you know, whether it was Underwood or someone else. Yeah, I
was gonna have a go, have a go. Valentine shook his head,
astonished, Jesus Christ, Who's how come you know about him? Then?
Underwood? Are you kidding? The man's a fucking legend. He's the reason
that we exist? What the malleus? Yes it was he, Valentine started,
Then shook his head, correcting himself, No shit, look who we
are what we are is not important. What is important, David, is
that you tell us everything you know. And I'm assuming now that you really
do know something, right, David hesitated before nodding, Yeah, then please
tell us we can protect you. David, you have to trust me on
that. We are more than a match for whoever this vampire is, whether
it's underwood, a spoor of underwood, whether it's Satan or all the flaming
devils of hell, we can destroy them, how said David. We have
the technology weapons where things have come a long way since the Manaton wouldn't stake
I can tell you, and these weapons are yours work? You've used them
on an actual vampire? Well, no, not me personally. It's like
I said, we've won the war. We don't actually have to deal with
vampires very often, but our weapons have been used in combat, and yes,
they do work very well. I see, so you personally, then
you've never fought a vampire. Valentine was about to respond to defend his position,
but then he stopped. He detected a change in flinch, a positive
shift in his confidence, his look, his posture, his whole bearing was
suddenly bolder. No, said Valentine, adding pointedly, have you me,
David said, with a little laugh to emphasize the absurdity of the idea.
No, my family new Underwood. Yeah, my grandparents, but not me.
Is that so? Said Valentine. Well, I'm sorry, but I
think you're lying. Dave. What? Oh? I have to admit that
you knocked me sideways with that Underwood revelation of yours. He has been off
our radar for fifty years. And for a minute there, Valentine shook his
head, smiling. You almost had me believing you really were some well meaning
descendant of your vile and murderous family line, somehow turned good guy here to
try and save the day. But that's the truth, that's what I am.
No, Dave, do you know what I think. I think Underwood
is alive. I think he is our killer, and I think that you,
just as your family has always been, you are his guardian. You
are here with him, guarding him like the dog you are, and you
know exactly where we can find him. No, you're wrong, Oh,
No I'm not. You've been sweating, fidgeting, twitching like a man with
hemorrhoids. Sat on the saddle of a racing bike for the last twenty minutes.
You are lying and you're scared, and so you should be. Now
where is he? I told you he's dead, Valentine nodded to Sloan.
David lunged forwards, but Sloan caught his head and pulled him back, jamming
his thumbs in again. David screamed, thrashing in his chair, trying to
rest himself loose and fall to the floor, but Sloane held him firmly,
relentlessly, prey sing into him. Then it stopped. Where is he,
Flinch, said Valentine. He's dead, Please, please believe me. He's
dead. He died on a rooftop in Spain last week. I was there.
I saw it. He is fucking dead. What he died last week?
Yes, said David, managing to regain some composure. In Spain.
He killed himself and you were there with him as what what do you think?
You're right? Okay? I am David Flinch, the last of my
vile and murderous line, and formerly guardian and servant to the late Lord Underwood.
Valentine was visibly stunned. Good God, whereabouts in Spain? Malaga and
last week. Say yes, for fuck's sake, just google it, mate.
If you're lucky, you might even see my fucking mugshot. Valentine turned
to Whitmore. He was about to tell him to get to a computer when
there was a knock at the door. Valentine rolled his eyes and nodded to
Whittemore. Whittemore opened the door. There was a sound, a tight,
metallic cough from outside the room, and the back of Whitmore's head blew out
in a diffused spray of blood, bone and brains. The door swung wide,
and a figure stepped into the doorway, dressed head to toe in black,
the word police on the breast of his flack jacket. It was a
cop, his face concealed by his combat helmet, full face balaclava and goggles.
His gun, a compact MP five submachine gun fitted with a silencer,
was now pointing into the room. Valentine put out a hand as the gun
coughed again, a single shot that rocked the policeman back into his seat.
David watched as the assassin's aim now shifted slightly upwards towards Valentine's head. Head
shot. Thought David if it passes through him. David shoved himself back into
Sloane and pitched himself sideways to the floor. Then the gun fired again,
three more shots in quick succession. From the floor, David saw Valentine's legs
twitch with the first shot, and then he heard Sloan fall to the floor
behind him. He turned back to see Sloane lying facing him, a bloodstain
blossoming into his shirt from behind his tie, and a gaping third eye in
the middle of his forehead. David couldn't breathe. He knew the killer had
seen him, that he was next. He lay paralyzed with fear, watching
through the legs of the table. As the black booted feet entered the room
outside, he could now see the dead body of the policeman who had been
guarding him earlier. Oh Jesus, he thought he's gone mad. One of
these fucking cops has gone mad, and now he's on a killing spree.
Can I reason with him? What is it to see eight cops all of
a sudden? As the boots walked to the table, David managed to speak
in a halting, stammering voice, I'm not one of them. I'm a
civilian. I haven't seen your face. You know that right, I can't
see your face. There was a click from the table above. Then in
the doorway, another pair of boots appeared, and a muffled voice demanded,
have you got him? Yeah? The killer kicked the fallen chair aside and
stepped into view. David looked up to see the gun pointing squarely at his
face. He raised his hands, Please, please, don't. He looked
to the man's eyes, but saw only twin reflections of himself cowering in the
tinted is of the goggles. He closed his eyes and waited to die,
but the shot didn't come. Footsteps approaching from the doorway, hands seizing him
on either side, and then he was being pulled roughly to his feet.
What he stammered, What the fuck's going on? He was spun around to
face the second cop, a bigger, heavier set man than the assassin.
The cop jabbed a finger at his face. Listen, we're not yet to
kill you. We're here to extract you, preferably in one piece. But
if you fuck about, if you in danger any of my men, I
will end you in a fucking heartbeat. Understand, No, I do you
understand yes, David nodded good. The cops each seized an arm and turned
David to face the door. Say nothing, speak to no one. We
are police and we've come to take you to the station. The people upstairs
understand that it's normal procedure and no one's going to ask any questions. But
if you try to signal anyone, if you try and raise the alarm,
then you are sentencing those people to death. He sat clear, Yes,
said David. Clear. They frog marched him to the door. David stepped
over the body of the policeman in the hallway. As he did so,
his eye was caught by a glimpse of red. To his right. He
turned and saw a man lying in a pool of blood in the doorway a
few doors down. Unbeknown to David, it was the station manager, mister
Albashari. Another masked, black clad cop emerged from the room and announced CCTV
wiped. David was then spun around to face the opposite direction, where he
saw Glover emerging from the next room. He too, was braced between two
cops. On seeing him, Glover's face distorted into a grimace of hatred.
French, this is all on you, you fucking idiot. His handlers jerked
him around so his back was to David. Hold on, you shut it,
said the second cop, whom David now thought of as the leader.
The leader then turned to each of his team. We'll set Each of them
nodded right, Let's move out. David was shunted forward and they began marching
down the corridor. After glover, they went through a door and up two
flights of stairs. At the top, they passed through another door and out
onto the station concourse. Here they were met by a group of blue shirted
underground staff, who immediately began clearing a path for them through the evening crowds
that were now turning at the sight of the masked, black clad police team
camera phones. Said the leader at David's side, keep your head down.
Both of the cops escorting him put their free hands onto David's head, pushing
his face down and shielding his identity with their arms. David watched his feet
as they passed from the smooth floor of the station out onto the gray paving
stones of the street outside. He was marched to the edge of the curb,
then onto the road. He managed to glance ahead and saw a large
black van with police written on the side. Glover was getting into the back.
Then it was his turn. His handlers marched him up to the back
of the van, where they handed him over to two other members of the
team. Get in, said the leader. David stepped up into the back
of the van, where Glover's handlers took him and sat him down on a
seat opposite Glover. David's new handlers then got in behind him, and the
four cops seated themselves on either side of the prisoners, sandwiching them. As
the doors swung closed, David looked up to see Glover regarding him with open
contempt. All you had to do was go with me when I told you,
said Glover, and none of this would ever have happened. Shut a
job, said one of the police beside David. The engine started and the
van began to move. Who are you people, said David? Are you
deaf? Said the cop. Shut your fucking mouth. Look if you're rescuing
me, and what's the problem. The cop opened a pocket on his flat
jacket and took something out. In the gloom, David couldn't make out what
it was. Then he saw a blue spark crackle in the man's hand.
Oh yes, said Glover. It couldn't app to a nicer guy. David
realized what it was in the second before the cop jammed the hand stunner against
David's chest. He tried to shout no, but all that came out was
a gargling howl as agony racked his body. Then it stopped as the cop
pulled the stunner away. When I tell you to shut it, you shut
it, mate, because I can do that all bleeding night. You get
me, Yeah, yeah'll get you good. So let's just have a nice
quiet, right, shall we? And so they did. As a journey
progressed. David sat with his head down, his mind going over and over
the events at the station. Who were these rescuers. They had to be
police, the uniforms, the equipment, the van, But the police didn't
have hit squads like this. These guys had to be some kind of special
forces team. He glanced aside from his own feet to the boots of the
cop next to him. Could they be secked? If they were, why
hadn't they just said so? And why was Glover sitting back here with him?
Shouldn't he be riding up front, telling his mates what had happened,
instead of being back here, cuffed, silenced, and probably as shit scared
as he was. So if it wasn't the sect who did that leave,
Elizabeth Daventry had said, other vampires also had their own sect, what she
had called cults of devotion. Did the vampire who killed Lisa have a sect?
One perhaps as powerful as Underwoods, if not more so? Elizabeth had
said nought, but she only seemed to have a handle on vampires from Underwood's
blood line. But there were others. So if there really was a vampire
out there who had a score to settle with the Flinch family, could they
be behind this rescue? And if they were, what could he expect at
the end of the ride? Death or worse? For there were worse fates
than death as well. He knew a memory flash of Lisa lunging for him.
Teeth bared, he squeezed his eyes shut against the image, focusing on
the blackness until all trace of it had gone. He told himself there was
no point in tormenting himself like this, since he had no chance of escape,
he may as well just accept his present powerlessness and wait until an opportunity
presented itself. He shifted his attention outwards to the sounds outside the back of
the van. He could dimly hear voices murmuring in the driver's cab and the
muffled, intermittent babble of the crackling police radio. Outside, there was only
traffic, the drone of engines drawing near and pulling away, the big diesel
engines of buses, the rapid bleeping of pedestrian crossings. But gradually the density
of traffic sounds began to lessen, and the van seemed to be moving faster
for longer periods of time. Were they moving out of the city center.
Soon after, the van turned suddenly and the ground beneath them became bumpy and
uneven. David felt himself swaying, as if he were traveling in a boat
on choppy water. Then they stopped. David raised his head. He heard
the front cab doors open and the occupants getting out, their footsteps now crunching
as they came around to the back of the van. Then the doors hung
open and two flashlight beams shone inside, targeting him and glover, dazzling them.
The cops on either side of David stood and hauled him up by his
arms. Wait, said David, uselessly resisting the man's pull. Where are
we shut up? Move it? They dragged David and Glover outside, where
two cars, their headlights on high beam, lit up the back of the
van. It was raining and David's feet hit soft wet ground. Squinting,
he turned his face away from the lights to see they were surrounded by partially
built structures clad in scaffolding a building site. The smell of broken earth London
clay, fresh cement. But there was another smell too, carried on a
cool breeze. The river muddy the Thames at low tide. They must have
moved east, closer to the estuary. Most likely they were on another multi
million pound office block development like London needed more offices. Switch off your torches,
said a voice from a short distance beyond the flashlights, and dipped the
headlights. The flashlights were extinguished, the high beams dipped and David saw four
figures in partial silhouette ahead of the car headlights. One of them was the
man who had spoken. It was Carlton West. He was flanked on one
side by his son Toby, and on the other by James and Elizabeth Daventry,
the two cops who had opened the van doors. The Leader and the
assassin now walked to join the lawyers, removing their helmets as they went.
The leader then pulled off his goggles and balaclava to reveal himself as Tully.
He smoothed his short hair into place and stepped into line beside Elizabeth Daventry with
a slight smile At David's shocked expression, he leveled his submachine gun to point
at David's chest. Then the assassin's balaclava came away to reveal Kendall standing alongside
Toby. He too brought his gun to bear on David. I found the
phone and your confiscated items, mister Flinch, so I'm not worried about hitting
it if we shoot you. West took a step forward. Of course,
you know Tully and Candle, mister Flinch, you left their charge rather abruptly
earlier this evening. Unfortunately for you, your appalling behavior towards them didn't deter
them from coming to your rescue. Oh, said David. So I'm rescued,
am I, but it doesn't bloody feel like it. West smiled,
well, I confess you were rescued more for our benefit than for yours.
Obviously, we can't afford to have a man like you in the clutches of
the lease. You know far too much about us. David nodded his head
to Glover. What about him? Oh, he's only been traveling with you
for appearance's sake. The station staff we're expecting to see two prisoners escorted out,
and so that's what they saw. He looked at the two cops standing
with Glover. You can uncuff him now, and mister Glover, thanks for
your cooperation. I hope your journey wasn't too uncomfortable. Oh not too,
sir, said Glover. The lads told me what was going on, and
I was happy to ride along just to see mister Flinch. He have an
uncomfortable journey. Daventry laughed, Oh, quite understandable. After all, he
shot you with a bloody taser, didn't he. He looked at David.
Not the sort of conduct one expects from an ally, is it, Flinch?
I had no choice, said David. I what the bloody hell do
you mean by that? He came to get your worthless backside out of there.
He was on your side for God's sake. You know what I did
after I tasted him, right, said David, Where I went, of
course, be bloody, No, snapped Daventry. You went off into the
tunnel after Dame O'Sullivan, the London vampire. It was we who told you
that the vampire would be someone infected in Spain, but you denied it.
Isn't that right, Elizabeth, Yes, father, said Elizabeth. Though I
suspected at the time, he may have thought otherwise. Obviously he was protecting
Sullivan. Knew it was him all along, I'll wager, said Toby.
I didn't, said David. I only suspected it for the first time when
Elizabeth pressed the issue back at a house you were holding me prisoner in.
I think you mean the house we were guarding you in, said West,
for your own good. Yeah, sure, said David, And so you
broke out and went off to find your friend Sullivan to warn him about us.
Is that it No, I didn't even know it was in for sure.
I only found him by chance. Glover can tell you that he was
following me. Davn'try, looked to Glover. Well, Glover, well,
it's impossible for me to say for sure, Sir, all I can confirm
is that Sullivan was on the opposite side of the streets at the pub when
Flinch spotted him. He could have been just pass him by, but it
could also be that Flinch had arranged to meet him. He had Kendall's phone,
and he made at least one call on his way to the pub.
Yeah. I made one call to Ronnie, said David. Check the phone
records. I didn't call Damo. I don't even know his bloody number.
Oh we'll check, mister Flinch, said West. Don't you worry about that.
But what concerns me more is what you may have told the police.
I didn't tell them anything, David lied, didn't you? No Jesus like
I believe the truth. They're hunting a serial killer, West, not a
real vampire. If I told them that, they'd think I was mad.
So you swear that you told them nothing about our organization or Lord Underwood.
Yes, I swear it. West turned to Candall. Mister Candall, the
device you mentioned on the telephone, do you have it? Candall reached into
his pocket and withdrew a small rectangular object that glinted in the car headlights.
He handed it to West, just blest play, sir, I've got it
well to the best bid. West took Inspector Valentine's voice recorder, held it
to the car headlights, and pushed the button through the patter of the Rein
a voice tinny but unmistakably, David said, oh what do you think You're?
Right? Okay, David Flinch, the last of my vile and murderous
line and formerly guardian and servant to the late Lord Underwood. Then Valentine's voice
replied, good God, whereabouts in Spain Malaga? And last week you say
yes, for fuck's sake, just google it, mate. If you're lucky,
you might even see my fucking mug shot. Then the sounds of shooting
began. West stopped the voice recorder and looked at David gravely. That didn't
sound like nothing to me, mister Flinch. David, his eyes now fearful,
shook his head. No, mister West, you need to hear all
of that recording. They were torturing me. I only gave them my name
and I told them Underwood was dead. But that was it, it,
said, Daventry. You told them your name, and Lord Underwood's to the
bloody OCU for Christ's sake. I don't know about any ocu, said David.
The cop said he was with something called the Mallius. The ocu is
the mallius. Flinch as if you didn't know what No, I didn't know.
I didn't even know what the mallius was. Tilly told me. Really,
said Daventry. He held out a hand to Candle and beckoned with his
fingers, mister Kendall, exhibit B, if you please, Candle again reached
into his pocket. He took out something small and passed it to Daventry.
Daventry inspected it briefly, scowled upon confirming to himself what it was, and
then walked over to David and held it up for him to see. In
the light from the car headlights behind him. Valentine's silver ring glinted between Daventry's
finger and thumb. So how do you explain this? Then? It was
his, said David to cop who was interrogating me. He was showing it
to me. Oh, he was showing it to you. What like a
newly married girl showing off her wedding band. Daventry turned back to his colleagues
with a smile. Why was he showing you his ring flinch it. David
faltered, trying to remember what he and Valentine had said during their conversation.
It was Ronnie, the journalist, Ronnie Bishop, he told me a story
about the Mallius. I met him. You know that Glover was following me,
go On said worst. Well, the cops that they'd been following Ronnie,
and they knew that he told me about the Malus. But what he'd
said, what Ronnie had said, it wasn't like inside information. It was
just a story, something that he'd heard when he was a cub reporter.
The cop at the station. He showed me his ring to prove that the
Mallus were real and that he was one of them. Why, said Daventry,
Because he said that they the Mallius could protect me from whom I don't
know, from vampires, and you believed him. I don't know. I
didn't know what to believe. West stepped forward, and this policeman presumably he
offered you this protection in exchange for your cooperation. Yeah, I guess so,
but I refused whether that before or after you told them about yourself and
Lord Underwood, said Daventry. Look, I can see where you're going with
this, But you have to understand I wouldn't have told him about you.
Oh, of course you wouldn't, said Daventry. At least not until they
got you into Falconbridge. Then I'm sure you'd have sung like a bloody canary.
No, said David adamantly. I'm secked I would never. Oh,
just shut up, Flynch. Daventry pulled a silent Spiretta pistol from his overcoat
pocket and pointed it at David's face. To West, he said, I've
heard about as much as I can stomach from this bloody trait to Carlton.
He was the runt of Arthur's litter, a useless runaway that never wanted to
be one of us and doesn't have it in him to ever be one of
us either, James West said, patiently, on your knees. Daventry pressed
the tip of the silencer against David's forehead. Please, said David, Just
listen to the tape. You have to at least. Daventry pushed the pistol
harder. Get on your fucking knees or I'll shoot you where you stand.
Fuck you, Daventry. David pushed his head back against the silencer. If
you're going to shoot me, you'll have to do it. Look at me
in the fucking eyes. You don't tell me what to do, you little
shit. Daventry drew the gun back to pistol whip David to the ground,
James shouted West. Daventry paused, his arm drawn back and ready to strike.
Mister Flinch. His fate is not ours to decide. Bang No damn
it, said Daventry. But that's no reason why he shouldn't be down on
his knees in a mud where he belongs very well. West Side, if
we must, he nodded to the men holding David, do as he says.
The men forced David down to his knees, each of them holding him
down with a hand on his shoulders. Now said West, may we proceed?
What do you mean, David demanded. My faith is not yours to
decide exactly what I said, said West. We are only lawyers, mister
Flinch, not judges. Rain, Who who's my fucking judge? From between
the two cars that illuminated the scene, there came the sound of a door
opening, not a car door, but something heavier like a large van Avantry.
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 reflecting the lights as he now moved between them. The
lines of his silhouette spoke of a suit. It was black, black as
the night that was his domain. No, cried David, shaking his head.
Oh no, oh, yes, flinch, said Daventry. Unfortunately for
you, on one thing, you were absolutely correct, although 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
rein as he looked up to the face of his master. Please, my
Lord, I'm act, he 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?
End of part two? And so Lord Underwood is risen from the grade and
David has met his judge. What will the judge's verdict be? And how
the devil did the judge get of that Spanish rooftop. Join me next year
for season five of Underwood and Flinch. The music you're listening to is Ahmad
Armor by Farid far Jard, courtesy of Tarranna Records and available to buy from
iTunes or Amazon and stream from Spotify. Additional music on the podcast was composed
and performed by Andrew Rothman. Find out more at a Rothman dot Com.
Coming up after the break. The original Patreon outro to this episode, followed
by info on how to sign up to Patreon and continue the Underwood Flinch journey.
I know, I bet you and just about every other listener out there
just said outland, I knew it, and of course you did. After
all, the clue is in the title of the book. It's not Flinch
underground, is it. But still, my god, am I glad that's
out in the open. I've been maintaining a poker face about Underwood's actual fate
ever since he walks out under that Spanish rooftop at the end of Underwood and
Flinch episode forty five back in twenty twelve, five years of basically lying for
the sake of keeping the plot under wraps or underground, even because metaphorically that's
part of what the title of the book means. It's not just that the
physical story takes place largely underground, it's that Underwood himself is underground, as
in in hiding clandestine secret. And now, at last, finally I can
speak to you, if not the world outside of Patreon, openly about the
fact that Lord Underwood is in fact a lie and well and now sporting a
six day beard that looks rather fetching. I have to say this, my
friends, is why so much of Underground has been kind of difficult to write,
and especially why this particular episode has been so difficult to write. You
see, usually in my stories between them, but the characters are showing you
everything that's going on, but not in this one. This book is well,
it's all kind of deception and sleight of hand, isn't it. You've
got David and what he knows and the large quantity of things that he doesn't
know. You've got the sect and what they're up to, what they know,
what they don't know. You've got Redmond, what she knows, what
she doesn't know, Valentine Coleridge and the OCU what they know, what they
don't know. Oh goodness, the list goes on. Ronnie, Bishop,
Damo Rose, and of course Lydia. No one in this story knows the
whole picture, and I the only person who does know the whole picture.
Have been trying to overlay these now arratives, one over the other, over
the other over the other, revealing and concealing every step of the way.
It's a complex web of intrigue, my friends, and as delighted as I
am that at least this part of it is now out in the open,
It's only one piece of the puzzle, a large piece, I grant you,
and finishing it feels rather like having a sack of coal taken off my
back. But it's not over yet, not by a long chalk. Yes,
there's still more to come. What's going to happen with Damo and Rose,
with Lydia. We've got the true identity of the London vampire that's not
yet clarified, and the fate of Inspector Claire Redmond. Oh, talking of
the police, what about Valentine. Ah, that was a shock, wasn't
it. Poor Chap. I liked him. I thought he and Claire Redmond
could have, I don't know, maybe had something together, a kind of
will they or won't they sort of thing. But no, alas not in
this universe. In another version of the story, well maybe, but in
this version of the story, there was no way those sect assassins were going
to leave anyone alive down there. Well, yes, I couldn't agree with
myself more. Thank you twenty seventeen. Me back to the present day,
twenty twenty three. I cut that there because you know, in a moment,
I'm just going to start saying goodbye to the Patreon crowd. So that
was the end of it really. Anyway, let me tell you how you
can continue listening to our story. There are basically two options. One wait
a year for season five to start in this free feed, or two find
out today by signing up as a three dollar patron at my Patreon. There
isn't an audiobook version of the story yet. There will be, but it's
not ready now, so you could wait for that, but I don't know
how long it's going to be. But I'll tell you one thing. It
won't be as cheap as three dollars. So if I were you, i'd
go to Patreon. But how do you do that? Well, you go
patreon dot com, look for me Mike Bennett, and go to my page.
You choose a pledge level you'll need the level entitled U and F listener.
It's three dollars a month in the US, three pounds a month in
the UK, four fifty in Canadian dollars, twenty five kroner in Denmark,
thirty five Norwegian krona, and I think about four fifty in Australian dollars.
I'm not sure what it is in euro According to a currency calculator, site
that I just checked. It's a two seventy three at the moment, so
the price will be around that mark two seventy three. I mean, good
lord, that is so cheap. Why should work so cheap? Is it
rabbish? No, it's not rubbish. It's just that I set the price
in twenty fifteen and I haven't had the heart to increase it, especially since
I'm on an Underwooden Flinch podcasting hiatus at the moment, because you know,
I'm writing the next book. Yeah, but it's just rabbish. Yeah,
yeah, thank you honestly. But yes, as I was saying, you
choose your pledge level, anything from you and f listener and above will plug
you straight back into the Underwooden Flinch Underground podcast. There are higher levels with
exclusive bonus content, but to be honest, I haven't posted anything at those
levels for about a year now, so I'm not going to promote those to
you. But if you do want to contribute more than by all means do,
you could always lower your pledge to three dollars in the future, or
indeed cancel it completely. Once you've listened to everything that you want to listen
to, there's no lock in. You can stay as long as you like
and leave whenever you like. But I will say that I recommend any new
potential Patreon listeners wait until the beginning of the month to sign up, because
Patreon charges you when you sign up for the month that you sign up in.
So if you join on the last day of April, for example,
you will get charged three dollars for the month of April. It doesn't matter
if us the last day of the month. You know, it's a computer
that's making the decision, it looks at the calendar, it charges you,
it doesn't care. And then the next day, the first day of May,
it's a new month and you're going to get charged again for the month
of May. So wait until the start of the months to sign up,
and then you will get a whole month of listening for your money. But
back to what to expect. Once you've signed up, Patreon will then send
you an email with something called your personal RSS code. Look out for it
check your spam email if you don't see it, because it is important.
This RSS code is your own personal key to my Patreon content. Copy the
RSS code and paste it into your podcasting app of choice, Activate it,
and then all my Patreon podcasts would appear in your app, just like those
of any other free podcast. However, not all apps support the Patreon RSS
code. Those apps are for Android, Double pod, pod Bean podcast App,
Podcast HD podcast one, Podomatic, and unfortunately Spotify. Sorry about that.
I think there are plans afoot to incorporate Spotify and Patreon, but at
present it's it's not quite there. But anyway, if your app wasn't mentioned
in that list, then the chances are it works just fine. But I
will post a list of the apps that work, along with instructions on how
to use them in the show notes of this episode, So give that a
read or just google you know podcast apps that work with Patreon, and you
know, get the same information that way. But honestly, it's really easy.
Millions of podcast listeners are using Patreon to get exclusive content from podcasters that
they want to support and who's work they joy, and you know, they've
all figured out how to do it. It's not hard. So can you
you're smart? I mean you must be. You're listening to this, aren't
you, And so yes, once you've done that, then you will have
all my Patreon podcasts in your app, especially the ones that you actually want,
those being the Underwooden Flinch ones. And to continue from where we just
finished off in this podcast, you will need to go to Underwooden Flinch Underground
episode thirty one. Just troll through the episodes, find Underground episode thirty one,
click that, and away you go. And then listen to every Underwooden
Flinch podcast in the feed that follows it in the order they appear in the
feed, because that is a chronological order in which I wrote and podcast them.
The titles of the books will change. You will see Underground the Devil
of Claverton, Still of the Night, and you will hear about something called
Legion, but it doesn't matter what the book is called. Listen to them
in the order you see them. This, of course is you know,
because I didn't start using podcasts seasons until later, so I was working with
book titles and sometimes the title has changed. It's kind of confusing, and
that's basically why I switched to seasons. What else can I tell you?
You'll see other podcasts there too. I do a news podcast called Meanwhile,
in which I talk about what I'm doing. Obviously, much of this news
is old, so you might want to skip over those old episodes or maybe
you won't. I don't know, but once you're all caught up by the
Underwooden Flinch saga, don't skip them anymore because they will then be your latest
news on what's going on in my world, including my latest TV recommendations,
which I know everybody cares so deeply about. I'll watch you watch on TV's
Rabbish. Oh thank you, that's all right. So yeah, I guess
that brings us to the end of this podcast, ladies and gentlemen, and
this season of Underwooden Flinch. I do hope you've enjoyed it, and that
even though the Underwooden Flinch saga will now go on hiatus here until season five
next year, do please stay subscribed to this podcast. I will be back
soon for a new season of Underwooden Flinch. After Hours, the Underwooden Flinch
news and chat podcast that I do with my wife Pauline. So if you
have any questions about this episode or anything in this season, or you know
anything underwood Flinch in general, then do please send them to me, either
using Spotify Podcasts, Substack, Facebook, or Twitter, and I will answer
them in the next show. And of course if there's any news about the
TV series, the potential Underwooden Flinch TV series good or Bad, I will
let you know. Thanks for listening, ladies and gentlemen to season four.
It's been a lot of fun for me doing it, and I hope it's
been an enjoyable ride for you too. But from me for now until the
moon rises again, take care and farewell.