Hello listeners, Oh dear, late again. Sorry about last week. I
was all tied up doing the new Patreon chapter and getting it finished edited online
and all that sort of thing for last Friday. And that's actually season eight,
episode thirteen. So my head was a complete wha. And then this
morning I woke up and thought, oh my goodness, I missed last Friday's
free podcast of season five, episode nine. Oh dear, So yeah here
it is better late than ever. Right anyway, The good news is in
this chapter we returned to the company of Underwood and Flinch themselves, which is
nice. But the bad news is, because it's a longer episode, there
has to be an ad break in it. What can I say, It's
my livelihood, Ladies and gentlemen, So you know, just listen or skip
whatever, and know that in doing so you are doing your bit to fund
the continued existence of this podcast. Huzzah. Oh yes, So enough,
then let's not waste any more time. I'll hand you over to my twenty
eighteen self for the recap. Here we go, before we do, just
a quick catch up. This episode follows on from episode one, where Underwood
has returned and he and David are in Underwood's RV. You may remember the
supporting cast in that episode included Conchi Concheetah. She's a Sect member who was
late John Flinch's nurse in Spain, you know John, who died when David
arrived. There was also a new character called Natcho. He was driving the
RV and he has been acting as guardian to Underwood for the duration of their
journey. And also there was an unconscious woman who was slumped at the table
with Underwood and David, and her name was Ellie, whom Underwood had had
for breakfast. And so that said, it's now time to return to our
story, and it's through Ellie that we do return to that RV as it
drives through the nighttime streets of London. In Underwood and Flinch Season five in
Tannerbress, Written and performed for podcast by Mike Bennett. This podcast is intended
for an adult audience. Listener discretion is advised. Episode nine, Underwood's breakfast
victim was Ellie Watson. Like Underwood, she traveled on the ferry from France.
Prior to that, she had spent the last two weeks backpacking around Germany,
Belgium and France. Despite the risks to women from hitch hiking. Elli
prided herself on being able to spot a safe ride, and at least until
tonight, as far as she was aware, she'd had a one hundred percent
success rate in this. She had no idea, nor ever would she,
that she had been a blood meal for her most recent host. Daniel had
seemed to her the perfect gentleman from the moment she met him, shortly after
leaving the ferry at Dover. He'd invited her aboard his RV and had one
of his Spanish friends Conchi a young woman, always a good sign, make
her a cup of tea. Then she chatted with Daniel for a while before
she found herself overcome by tiredness. When she woke up, it was to
find herself in London, with Daniel beside her chatting another guy whom he'd introduced
as David, a friend of his that they just picked up. Daniel had
then made his excuses and gone up to the front of the RV to chat
with his Spanish friends. Ellie had felt weak and light headed. She was
now very low on money and hadn't eaten much over the last twenty four hours,
and she put her sense of fatigue down to this, David made her
a cup of tea and rooted out a packet of Spanish biscuits from a cupboard
for her. He seemed nice, but as he chatted amiably to her about
her holiday, she found it hard to concentrate on what he was saying.
Her eyes and attention kept straying to Daniel. She didn't understand why, but
she felt oddly hurt by his getting up and leaving her. He'd been so
nice earlier, and she'd found herself incredibly attracted to him, still did,
but now he seemed to have lost all interest in her. She watched him,
catching snippets of his conversation with the Spanish driver. He was marveling at
the sights of London as they drove through the city center, like he'd never
seen them before. But she must have done, because he told her he
was from here. She found herself fighting the urge to go up to him
and ask him straight out if she could see him again. It was crazy,
because he was way older than her, and his style and hers weren't
compatible at all. He was nothing like the type of guys she normally went
for, and yet she felt a yearning for him. Ellie, it was
David. She turned back to him to see him looking at her expectantly.
Sorry, she said, I didn't hear you. I asked you where exactly
you're going in Shortitch? Where'd you want to drop you? Oh? I
don't mind. I don't really need to be dropped at all. I'm happy
to just stay here with these guys. They seem nice, you know.
I er, I don't know if that's possible, Actually, Ellie, they
have business to attend to. Daniel was a very busy guy, is he,
Yeah? Business man, you know, big deals, big money,
very busy fella. Oh that's nice. Money's always good, isn't it.
Yeah, But they are going to have to let you off somewhere, so
if you could give us a place, I don't Her eyes slid away to
Daniel again. It's all fine, really, I see, said David,
standing excuse me a moment. He stepped away from the table and went to
speak to Daniel. She watched, sure that he would be telling him she
wanted to join them, and eager to see a sign from Daniel that she
could. Then, her heart leapt as he turned around and came back to
join her. He sat down opposite her at the table and said, David,
here, tells me you're feeling a bit more yourself, Ellie. Ellie
nodded eagerly, yes, much better. Thanks. He can't be the cap
of tea, can you? He smiled? No, the great restorative eh.
She gathered a lock of her long hair and began twirling it around her
finger. So, Daniel, I was wondering if I could stay here with
you. Ah, I'm afraid not. I have many engagements, many he
looked at David questioningly, business meetings. David nodded, Yeah, you're chocolate
block for the next few days. Are you like his pa? Ellie asked
David sort of, Well, I could help you. I've got secretarial experience.
Yes, I'm sure you do, said Underwood. But really I have
all the help I need. And anyway, I'm sure someone is expecting you
home, aren't they family? Yeah? But she laughed, feeling her face
flush with heat. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I really like
you. I like you too, Ellie, and nothing would give me great
pleasure than to enjoy your company a little longer. But fortunately for you,
my dear, I'm something of a reformed character these days. The statement struck
her as odd. Still smiling, she asked, you are what I mean
to say? Is? He began, but his words became strangely indistinct.
As a warm, lazy feeling came over her, and though she didn't know
it, she gazed into his eyes. Her strange attraction to him, along
with any memories of their journey, began to wash away from her like sand
castles in the tide. They dropped Ellie off at a taxi rank near Shoreditch
Station. From there, the RV turned west and drove on through the quiet
nighttime streets towards Underwood's house in Bloomsbury Square. David and Underwood sat at the
table. Underwood was talking on the phone to West, who had gone on
ahead to the house to ensure everything was ready for Underwood's arrival. David turned
back to the rear of the RV and decided to explore. He got up
and went down the aisle towards the bathroom and bedroom areas. The unmade bed
so uncharacteristic of Underwood, disconcerted him. He wondered if Underwood had been feeding
on Elly there and the time before the RV had arrived at the building site
where they had interrogated him. He checked the sheets for blood but found none.
Then, from beneath the bed, he caught a glimpse of reflected light
from a smooth, dark surface. He lifted the douve where it overhung the
side of the bed and froze. Upon seeing the polished oak of Underwood's coffin,
fear seized his heart. A flash of memory, a single light bulb
swaying above the coffin, and the blackness of the cellar. David fell back,
stumbling into the shower stool, where only by luck he caught the sides
of the door in time to stop himself falling into it on his backside.
Ah, I see you're admiring the auto caravana, said Underwood, pocketing his
phone. Super isn't it. It's quite ruined me for traveling around on the
back of a hearse, I can tell you. David climbed out of the
shower as nonchalantly as possible and smoothed his hair with a now wet hand.
Yeah, I'll bet I see you brought the coffin, But of course,
what's a vampire without his coffin? And that's where you've been sleeping, is
it? Sometimes? Sometimes I sleep in the bed. These UV resistant windows
have given me the luxury of choice. Sometimes I enjoy nothing more than just
lying on the bed, watching the world go by in glorious sunshine. You
probably can't imagine how wonderful it is for me, even if it is only
through tinted glass. David resumed his seat opposite him. So the three of
you drove up from Spain in this Then, yes, I needed to come
back to England to sort out my affairs and oversee the return of my things
from Spain. But I also fancied a sort of short touring holiday. You
know, the world's changed so much since the nineteen fifties, and I wanted
to treat this as an opportunity to see some of it. Back in your
father's day, we would have done it in the hearse, with him driving
through the day and me coming out at night. And of course, seeing
as that like yesterday to me. Well, there I was explaining this to
Hernandez and asking about the pros and cons of the modern hearse. Oh no,
my lord, says he. I'm sure we can think of something much
better than that, and he takes out his phone and pulls up some pictures
off these auto caravana thing is not only, he says, would I and
my traveling companions be able to travel together in but we'd also have our own
base on the road, So handy for he licked a fingertip, wiped up
a spot of Ellie's blood from the table and licked it from his finger,
socializing, it sounds like the perfect ride for a bloke like you. Oh,
yes it is. We've had a marvelous time on the road, stopping
in a different city every night. What was your route, if you don't
mind me asking? Well, from Malaga we traveled up to Seville, then
on to San Sebastian, then up to France and a knight in Bordeaux,
and then finally on to Paris, whereon barely had time to sink my teeth
into anyone before word of this bloody London vampire business reached us and we had
to cut things short. Damned inconvenient, yeah, isn't it, said David.
I've had nothing but inconvenience since I got here. Underwood smiled, Ah,
Sorry, Flinch, I might have phrased that better. Natcho called back
to them from the cockpit. My lord, we are approaching the Bloomsberry Square
right out. Underwood got up from the table and beckoned David to follow him
as he went to stand behind Natcho and Conchi to look out through the windscreen.
There it is, he said, pointing out his house. You know,
it actually looks lot better than it used to, as does the whole
square cleaner. You know, of course, there was so much soot around
back in the fifties. The parking spaces directly in front of the house were
all occupied, but there was a clear stretch further down the street that was
marked with double yellow lines. Park there, said Underwood. Are you sure,
said David, you'll get a ticket? A ticket to what a parking
ticket? A fine? What on earth for for parking on double yellows,
said David, pointing out the lines. That's why no one else is parked
there. Well, where else are we supposed to park For Heaven's sake,
there isn't anywhere. If a constable comes along, we can simply point that
out to him. He won't care, no, said Underwood with a smile.
Indeed he won't, He won't care at all. I'll make sure of
that park on the lines Natchew. Once they were parked, Underwood opened the
door and stepped down to the pavements, where Daventry and West came hurrying down
the street to meet him. My Lord, said Daventry. I'm not sure
if you're acquainted with modern parking laws, but this, yes, yes,
I know, said Underwood, looking around the square. Flinch told me all
about it. Ridiculous. What's the world come to and a man can't park
his motor car outside his own house? Damn pencil pushes. Come on,
let's get inside. He led the way to the house, where Elizabeth Daventry,
Toby West, and a fifty something bald man in a black suit awaited
him at the front door. Underwood frowned the bald man and said, who's
this. Toby cleared his throat. May I present Kloons, your butler,
my lord. He's actually father's butler, but we're lending him to you for
the duration of your stay. Unfortunately, we don't have too many domestic staff
among the ranks of the sect. As a matter of fact, Kloon's here
is the only one. But he's awfully good. Is that so? Kloons
asked Underwood. Mister Toby is very generous mail, Lord, they endeavored to
do by best. Jolly good, said Underwood. He glanced back towards David
and Natcho as they wandered up the street towards the house. Our skill set
is rather wanting these days, Kloons. Good to have you aboard. They
cure, Sir, I have a number of belongings in the auto caravana that
they want brought into the house, including a coffin. To Natcho, he
said, Natcho, this is Kloon's. He's going to give you in conscient
hand with my things and show you where to put them. The Lord said,
Kloons, exactly where will you be wanting to locate to this coffin?
Why in the cellar, of course? Where else does one keep a coffin?
Kloons looked at West, his eyes concerned. West said, leave it
to last, Kloons. We'll see how we're fixed. Then, is there
a problem, said Underwood. Ah, and no, my lord, no
problem at all. Good right, then, well, let's get inside,
shall we. Underwood strode into the house, and everyone but Kloons, Natcho,
and Conchi followed him inside. The vampire led the way into the drawing
room, which, while retaining its original Georgian features like picture ails and fireplace,
was completely furnished in the Art Deco style of the nineteen twenties and thirties.
In the hearth, a smokeless coal fire glowed warm and welcoming. David
looked around. Nice place, my Lord, very snazzy. Looks like something
out of Poio. Poio said, Underwood, You mean the detective. What's
he got to do with anything? It's television show. My Lord, houses
in it look a lot like this. It's cool. Oh, Underwood smiled,
Yes, yes, I suppose it is, or at least it was.
He ran a fingertip along the fireplace, checking it for dust. There
was none. He turned to West, Nice to see everything in good order.
We've kept it exactly if you left it, my Lord said West.
This, like all of your homes, has been perfectly preserved. Is this
down to Kloons? Ah? No, my Lord, Kloons has been only
recently assigned the task of maintaining your properties has been well. We've found it
most effective to employ living house key staff in all of your homes. In
this property, they reside in the basement level. Agency people not secked the
current couple of Lithuanian I would leieve, And of course, now that your
home will be dispensing with their services, they leave first thing tomorrow. Oh,
Underwood nodded, I see, and that's what the business was with you
in cloones on the doorsteps regarding my coffin. West looked uncomfortable, Yes,
my lord, it was, so why are they still here? Oh?
Well, my lord, your decision to return to us gave such short notice
that people require time to what pack up and leave should take more than a
day, perhaps, my lord, but to find somewhere else to move to
to make the necessary arrangements. Dear god man, their servants not honored guests,
sling them out. Daventry step forward. I'm afraid that's just not possible,
my lord. Servants have certain rights these days. Regrettable perhaps, but
that's the law right, Yes, sir, what is this a trade union
thing? I've been under the illusion that the Communists lost the Cold War.
They did, sir. It's just the way things are. But it's not
a problem. The arrangement works nicely in everyone's favor. Oh does it?
Indeed, yes, my lord, very much so, said West. Moreover,
we do rather need these agency people, so we can't upset the agency
they come from, or the police for that matter, as mister Daventry says,
they have rights. Oh don't be so mean, my lord, said
David, dropping down onto the sofa. You were just saying what a great
job they've been doing, and now you want to chuck them out. They're
going to be gone tomorrow. You don't need the basement for your coffin.
You can stick it anywhere. I know where I'd like to stick it,
said Underwood, glowering at David. For the record, Flinch, our partnership
doesn't extend to you telling me what to do in my own home. Sorry,
my lord, but you know you need to be brought up to speed
on the way things are these days. Daventry and West are only doing their
job telling you this stuff. Underwood turned to consider Daventry and West, who
were standing as rigidly as troops on a parade ground. Hm. Well,
fair enough. I suppose a good job, gentlemen. For once, it
seems Flinch is right. I suppose my coffin can go in one of the
spare bedrooms temporarily. Very good, my lord, said West. He turned
to Toby Tell kloons of the new arrangement, Would you Toby? Yes,
Sir Toby turned to leave and tell him to bring refreshments when they finished.
Will you? Underwood looked around the room with an inquiring expression. Tea all
round? Is it? Everyone assented? Toby nodded and left right. Then
sit down, all of you, and let's see what we know about this
blasted London vampire business. Shall we? Underwood and Flinch continues after the break,
and now we return to Underwood and Flinch. When everyone was seated,
Underwood pointed to David. Now, Flinchy here tells me that he believes Damo
Sullivan isn't the sole culprit. He says, he's not the tape. Daventry
turned to David with a sneer. Really, there's Shorely, The very fact
that Sullivan is a vampire rather makes him the tape, doesn't it? Or
all the vampires you know that site, mister Daventry asked David as a matter
of fact, Yes, but it might can't it be any of them?
And don't give me that story. That's just a bunch of rules. And
you, of all people, know that rules are made to be broken,
not vampire rules. Oh, pish, said Underwood. Flinch is right,
and you know it, Daventry. I've broken the code plenty of times,
and others have too. The question isn't whether or not the rules might be
broken, but rather who might be breaking them, my Lord said West.
The probability of a vampire none to us, being responsible for these recent outrages
really is very slight. Indeed, well, said Underwood. Why well,
because there are so few vampires left in the country, and those that are,
at least in my knowledge, are all family. They would never harm
you or mister Flinch. Underwood frowned, Wait a minute, what do you
mean there are so few vampires left in the country. Well, it is
as I told you on the telephone when you're in France, my Lord the
Malius, Oh, yes, yes, you did say something about that.
There's bastards. Things were bad enough here after the war, and in the
States it was pure hell. He turned to David. That's why I had
to go to North Africa and by your father and I ended up in Franco
Spain. In the decades that followed your hybrid nation, my Lord that Malius
made great advances in the United States. They grew from the Pinkerton like operation
you knew into a major corporate identity. They devastated the vampire in America,
and by the mid nineteen seventies the species was virtually, if not completely extinct.
Dear God, said Underwood. You mean the family there, my friends
all dead. Not necessarily, my Lord, said Daventry. Many like yourself
escaped to other countries. The Malius never seeded. On the other side of
the Iron Curtain. The nations of the farmer Saviet Empire became a sanctuary for
them, as did portions of the Middle East and march of South America,
but sadly not so Western Europe, the United States, and Australasia. Underwood
said nothing. He took out his cigarettes and lit one as Toby re entered
the room. Ah, Toby said, West. We were just telling his
lordship about how the Malius has evolved over the last fifty years. You've followed
it more closely than anyone else. Perhaps you'd care to explain it to him
and make it so Flinch can understand, would you, said Underwood. Oh?
Well, yes, said Toby, taking up a position in front of
the fireplace and rubbing his hands together. Be happy to me, Lord,
so well, as you know, from the early twentieth century in the United
States, the malius was always very successful. He turned to David fire sermons
played to packed houses in the Bible Belt, where they managed to raise vast
funding from donations and assemble a veritable army of volunteer vampire unters, whom they
came to call agents. This network of agents grew into an organization that gradually
spread across the United States and beyond. Yes, yes, said Underwood,
Kindly get to the last fifty years where you I can feel flinching on the
ancient history. Later, very good, my lord. So over the years,
the organization invested a good deal in research and development, mostly in the
fields of chemicals, weapons, and technology, developing things that might expedite their
crusade, as it were, everything from sprays to detect vampires to special guns
and munitions. Underwood scoffed, Yes, I remember hearing about some of their
ludicrous attempts to harness ultra violet light into bullets. He grinned, but only
for a moment as a second thought occurred to him. Wait, don't tell
me they succeeded. Hah, No, Toby chuckled, They didn't me,
Lord, but there was no shortage of experiments but to continue once the Christie's,
the family were always at the head of things. Once the Christis considered
the vampire war to be won, I think it was around nineteen seventy seven
Leicester Christie, the chap who was in charge at the time, began turning
the organization into distinct commercial enterprises. Underwood turned to David. Do you know
about the Christies. David shook his head. No, they're the family at
the head of the Malius. My own damn fault. I should have killed
the original Blighter back when I had the chance in the eighteen sixties. At
that time, the Malius were just a small bunch of Bible bashers out to
put an end to anything they considered to be a cult, which meant everything
from yoga enthusiasts to yours truly hang on, said David tased to meet above
a coffee shop in Clarkhamwell. Underwood was surprised, Yes, how do you
know about that? The reporter I was talking to earlier on Ronnie Bishop.
He said that he once interviewed a woman whose granddad or great granddad owned the
coffee shop in question. She even mentioned you, not by name, but
she said there was a vampire involved who was known only as the Lord.
I thought, what the time had to be you? Yes, it was.
What else did his reporter say? Basically, he said, a couple
of Malleus blokes went down after you in the underground and were never seen again.
Then soon after that the rest of the group killed themselves, not together
apparently, but in different incidents all over town. I'm guessing you had a
hand in that too, Underwood smiled. Well, they started it, I
finished it almost. Yeah, the one that got away I remember now,
Yeah, Christie Edward Christie Ronnie said he fled to America. He wasn't at
their last meeting, off on business or something, but when he heard about
what had happened to him, he took his family and legged it. Quite
so, the swine slipped through my fingers. But of course, one doesn't
tend to dwell on little failures, does one, And that's all I thought
it was at the time. People like Christie almost always spend the rest of
their lives living in terror, praying I never find them, and then just
quietly die. But Christie didn't. He got straight onto starting the Mallius up
again in America. I didn't find out about any of this for decades,
of course, and then when I did, it was in a most unpleasant
way. The Christies had grown the Mallius into a formidable enemy by that time,
and I only escaped them by the skin of my teeth. Did your
reporter friend tell you any of that? No, this reporter, this Bishop
fellow. He's the one you talked about on the tape recording of your interview
with the Mallius police officers. Yeah, that's right. He's the guy who
broke the London vampire story. So what exactly does he know about the London
Vampire? About anything you say he knows about me about the Mallius. What
exactly should I be concerned? Oh? I don't think so, my lord.
He doesn't actually know anything about you, not even your name. He
just heard an old wives tale about a supposed vampire called the Lord and a
bunch of guys that committed suicide. He doesn't really know anything about the London
vampire either. That's why he agreed to meet me. He hoped I could
shed some light on the matter for him, just as I hoped he could
do so for me. But he didn't. Well, no, not strictly
speaking, but he did say something that was interesting, something about a high
ranking policeman called Coleridge, who he says is now in charge of the London
vampire investigation. Ronnie told me that back in the eighties, Coleridge used to
wear a silver ring on his right hand. He described it to me,
and his description exactly matched the ring that the Mallius coppers showed me at Hoburn.
Ronnie didn't know for sure that it was a Malius ring because he doesn't
know for sure that the Mallius really exists, but he has his suspicions,
pretty big suspicions too. Underwood turned to West, this Colleadge, do we
know anything about him? West shook his head, No, my lord,
He's no one that's come to our attention before. To David, Underwood said,
why didn't you mention these details earlier? Flinch, because you might remember
that you and your lawyers here were basically putting me on trial for mere life.
My Lord, I wasn't going to go wandering off into anecdotes I'd heard
from a journalist who pitches to the tabloids. Was I in anyway? I'm
telling you now, aren't I all right? So was there anything else he
mentioned that might be pertinent, anecdotal or otherwise? What he said, He's
seen some stuff online about the book that Malius take their name from, the
Malius Mariu something or other Malfaicarium, said Underwood. Yeah, yeah, that's
the one. The hammer of witches. Yeah, he says that was what
he saw on Coleridge's ring. Hammer. It looks like a cross, but
it's actually a hammer. Well, it's right about that, mus be a
very observant fellow. Did you say exactly how he came to see such detail
on this policeman's ring? We said he first saw it when he spoke to
Coleridge and a police station in connection with a missing person. He was trying
to find ah missing person. Eh, vampires tend to leave them in their
wakeleg squirrels do nutshells. I think we all know what was going on there.
Who was it the missing person? I don't know. You didn't say
interesting. I think we should have a chat with your mister bishop and see
what else he knows. He turned to Daventry and West. I want you
to find out all you can about this Coleridge fellow I'm assuming that we still
have people in Scotland. Yard. Of course, my Lord said Daventry.
I'll get them on to it first thing in the morning. Good show.
Now, talking of police, you West Junior, he pointed at Toby.
You were telling me about how the Mallets has evolved since I've been away.
I have a question if they've become some corporation. How come the OCU arrested
Old Flinchy here? See you part of this corporation? No, not exactly,
my lord, explain well, mi lord, as I was saying earlier.
When Leicester Christie recognized that the Malus's war against the vampires was over,
he saw that with victory there also came the threat of their obsolescence. Why
did they need to be a force of vampire unt as if there were no
more vampires? So he took their main assets, their research and development departments,
and their legions of combat trained agents, and commercialized them, turning the
Malice into a three pronged business with a pharmaceutical division, a military hardware division,
and what is euphemistically called a security services division. Euphemistically, why so
where the security services might be more accurately termed mercenary services my lord, they
offer private armies for hire. He may like blackwater, said David. Yes,
mister Flynch. They called themselves Salium Security, as Salium being an anagram
of malius. I've never heard of them, said David. Why would you
have, said Daventry. They don't advertise on television. Unless you're specifically at
the market for mercenaries, you never know they were there. Toby continued.
Salium is also the name of their weapons division, but the pharmaceutical branch,
presumably because Christie felt a need for brand diversification, here is called Amylous Pharmaceutical,
another anagram of malius. Yes, sensible, I suppose, said Underwood.
I can't imagine it pays. They have your weapon manufacturing and drug companies
sharing the same brand name precisely, my lord. So are they still an
existential threat to vampires? You said, all this happened because they considered the
war with us to be over. Well, yes, this is true,
and the good news is that no, for the most part, they aren't
a threat to you and your kind because the Christies no longer have any control
over the businesses. Underwood smiled, well, well, he turned to Daventry
and West, Perhaps you should change our tea order for one of Champagne.
The lawyers chuckled along with Underwood, and Daventry said, yes, this part
of the story is actually quite funny. My Lord Lester Christie died in nineteen
eighty two, and continuing with the Christie's hereditary custom, left what had by
then become three very successful businesses that to his only son, Jeffrey. But
Jeffrey, despite being sent to the best schools and colleges that money goodbye,
had absolutely no head for business, nor had he the slightest interest in God
or vampires. Not uncommon these days, my lord said West, we live
in a godless age where vampires exist only in movies and trashy paperbacks. Toby
laughed, ha, yes, they'd have us. Believe you sparkled sunlight,
my lord? Can you imagine? Underwood raised an eyebrow. Well, we
can be grateful for that. There's nothing quite like unsuspecting prey to make for
an easy night's pickings. What all? The lawyers laughed, and Underwood turned
to David. He wasn't laughing, but sensing he should, he smiled and
said, huh, good one. My Lord. Underwood turned back to Daventry,
you were saying, Daventry. Ah, yes, my lord, so
Jeffrey was a playboy at once. He'd inherited the family businesses, he was
able to hand over the running of them to others while devoting himself exclusively to
the things that he did care about, namely gambling, women and cocaine.
It sounds like quite the fun, fellow said Underwood, Yes, my lord,
perhaps, but he was as inept in these things as he was in
business, as a reckless gambler, and ultimately, having lost everything, shot
himself in nineteen eighty five. The official stary is suicide, but the rumor
eyes that he died playing Russian roulette. Personally, I like to believe the
rumor. You say that he lost everything. Did that include the companies?
Yes, my lord, he gambled away his controlling interest in all of them.
Ha ha, Well that's marvelous news, Underwood laughed. Please tell me
this cloud was the last of his family line. Indeed he was, my
lord. The Christies are no more, and so that's it. Then the
Malleus are gone almost, my lord, said West. There are pockets remaining
around the world, the OCU being one of them. You see the corporate
transformation of the organization only applied to their operations in the United States. In
other countries, agents organized themselves differently. Here in Britain, as you know,
they became an official department of the London Police Force, the station at
Falconbridge being the hub of operations for the whole country. But in this country
too. By the mid to late seventies, the war against the vampire was
practically over. The oc Us reissan Netra was no more. They were redundant.
The Home Office wasn't going to waste money on the department that had nothing
to do, so they were essentially scrapped, but not so scrapped that they
didn't manage to arrest Flinchy in your man Glover. No, no, my
lord, indeed, as I say, they were essentially scrapped, but not
completely. There continues to be a small staff made up of what we believed
to be almost exclusively descendants of previous generations of Malleus agents. Unlike their forefathers,
they aren't full time members of the OCU. They're drafted in from other
police forces around the country whenever duty calls, as it does with this London
vampire business. Exactly, my Lord Elizabeth Daventry said, Unfortunately, the identities
of these part time members of the OCU are top secret in the Lord.
We have no idea who any of them are. What about our people in
the police, can't they find out? Not thus far. It used to
be that the OCU kept all their eggs in one basket, so to speak,
in Falconbridge. Now they're all over the country, unofficial and invisible,
and Falconbridge is now just an underground record storehouse. Are we sure of that
according to our people on the inside, yes, hmm. Well, we're
going to need to improve our intelligence here. Clear to the OCU remain an
operational force with enough clouts to hurt us, so we need to know who
they are and how they function these days. But for the time at least
we know that this Coleridge chap is very likely one of them. And our
only lead on this fellow is this reporter pal of yours flinch Ronnie said David,
Well, he's hardly a lead. On the contrary, he's had dealings
with Coleridge. He may know things he hasn't told you. Indeed, he
may know things that he doesn't even know. He knows things he's seen and
heard over the years that he's forgotten about, but that I will be able
to bring to light. You mean you want to fascinate him, Yes,
can you contact him? Wait? You do mean with his permission? There's
no time for that flinch. We have to get this done quickly and with
the minimum of fuss. We can't be pussy footing around trying to talk him
into it or negotiating with his fears. Trust me, the best way to
do this is immediately the moment I catch his eye. David wasn't sure that
he liked what Underwood was suggesting. Certainly it was unethical, but on the
other hand, and it wouldn't hurt Ronnie at least if David were there to
keep Underwood in check. Moreover, if it led to their finding Lisa's attackers
and ending the career of the London Vampire, it would, he felt to
be something he could live with. I'll be there right, of course,
you'll have to facilitate the introductions now, I mean, I'll be there when
you fascinate him too. Yeah, all the time as you wish, all
right. Yeah, I've got his number, but it's on Kendall's phone.
I think mister West has it. He was going to check on the phone
records. West took out the phone and looked at Underwood, silently requesting permission
to pass it to David. Underwood waived him to do so. David took
the phone and turned it on. When it powered up, he saw there
were messages waiting. There are messages, my Lord, probably for Kendall.
Check them, said Underwood. There were two, both from the same number.
David checked the recent call history and saw the number matched Ronnie. Oh
no, they're from Ronnie. He's been calling me. She'll a plan back.
Underwood nodded, and Daventry added on speak affair, and if you please,
I think we should all hear what mister Flinch's confid aunt has to say.
David tapped the phone a few times and then held it up for the
room to hear Ronnie's voice from the background noise. He sounded like he was
on a busy London street. Dave, is Ronnie Bishop, Oh you of
course quite a stir at opned, didn't your son? Two men down and
a taser shootout and either you or your mate Damo gone and run into the
trains. Au sounds like you're up to more than a spot of vampire hunting,
don't I listen? You need me, mate, I can help you.
Give us a call and we can resume our little tat tat all right,
Yeah, look, I'll even by the next round. Don't get any
better than Matt, does it, jeers. Then the message ended. There
was a pause, and then the second message was announced and Ronnie spoke again.
Yeah it's Ronnie again. I'm back at Oven. We all know sign
of you, but I've just seen Coleridge and Detective Inspector Redmond going into the
station. If they've nicked you, you get a chance to hear this.
Keep stumming. Tell him you've got an exclusive deal with me. Yeah,
nah, no, listen, provided you ain't been nicked or gone under a
train, call me. Yeah. I'll be in the pub where we were
earlier writing up my notes. I'll wait here until Coleridge comes out and try
and get a statement. But if you ain't out by last, dueler's sod
it. I've got to get home. Get this typed up for tomorrow's early
edition, so call me as soon as you get this. Yeah, all
right, be good. David lowered the phone. Call him back, said
Underwood. Tell him you want to meet. David checked the time on the
phone. It was after two am. It's a bit late, isn't it.
He's probably in bed by now. And do you think for a moment,
I give a damn for Heaven's sake, Flinch. It's not like I
can pop round in the morning, is it? No? I know.
I mean, it's just he's not likely to be in the mood for a
chat, is he if? I may, said Alizabeth, raising a cautious
hand. He said he was going to be writing up a story for the
morning papers, so he could still be working. There you are, Flinch,
said Underwood. Now call him. David sighed and pressed the recall option
on the phone, leaving it on speakerphone. He held it up for all
to hear, and was surprised when it was answered almost immediately. Dave said,
Ronnie, Yeah, Ronnie, I just got your messages. Sorry it's
late, but I don't worry about it, mate, I'm burning the midnight
oil right and up to night's events. I'm going to make you famous,
son, you what, said David, alarmed, Hang on a minute,
what I told you earlier on that wasn't a story, Ronnie. I'm an
anonymous source, just a bloke sharing a bit of info. Seriously, I
don't want to be famous. Do you understand me? Oh yeah, I
understand you perfectly, mate. The problem for you is you are the story.
You're a part of it. Anyway. I've got some pics of you
and you'll, mate, Damo, and then blokes that were chasing after you
just before you all ran down in the Hope and and had that little taser
shoot out of yours is shut down the platform. David looked at Underwood,
open mouthed. He shook his head, stunned and bewildered by the news.
Then to Ronnie, he said, if you took pictures of me, yeah,
most are pretty blurry, but one is caught. You're just nice here.
And I've seen old Coleridge too, coming out of Oburn after he went
down looking for you. Oh you should have seen his face when I told
him I had pictures. Ronnie laughed, Oh, I've waited thirty years to
see that expression, and believe me, it was worth every minute. I
can tell you here, hang on, let me get a pin, all
right, So what did you get up to down there? Underwood whispered,
Tell him you don't want to talk about it over the phone. You want
to meet him in person? To Nate, David frowned. Then Underward mouthed
the words do it and jabbed a finger at him. To Ronnie, David
said, no, I'll only tell you in person. What tomorrow? Oh
that's going to be a bit too late, mate. I need it now.
I've got to get this done and emailed in. I've got a front
page scoop with the Sun. Well hold that front page, Ronnie, because
I've got more than this story. See, I know who the vampire is.
David glanced up to Underwood for approval of his ad libbed bluff. Underwood
replied by giving him the thumbs up. What fat me? Are you sure?
Yeah? Oh I'm positive? So where can we meet? Jesus?
David's a bit late for that, mate. Can't you just tell me over
the phone? Did you want the exclusive or not? I'm sure I could
just call it to the Sun myself. No, no, no, don't
be daft, mate. Where are you now? Uh? David looked to
Underwood for instructions. Elizabeth, who was sitting beside David on the sofa,
leaned close to his ear and whispered, Now the British Museum. David repeated
this to Ronnie. Bloody hell, I'm at me flatting Crouch End. Not
exactly next door, is it? Elizabeth whispered, and David repeated I can
come to you there if you like. I've got a car. There was
a pause, then Ronnie said, yeah, all right, you got a
pen? Hang on. David looked to Elizabeth. She was already taking a
pen and small notebook from her bag. She nodded when she was ready.
Ronnie gave his address and she wrote it down. Great, said David.
I'll leave in a minute. All right, yeah, okay, I'll see
Ronnie was interrupted by a doorbell chiming in the background. To himself, Ronnie
said it was a fuck stake. To David, he said, I've got
a go and mate, someone's at the door, probably the bird downstairs.
She gets pissed off with me typing later night. I'll see you later.
He hung up. Good work, Flinch said Underwood. Right, we'll need
a car. Who's driving? I have a camera, Lord, said Elizabeth.
I'd be happy to drive. I'm jolly good now that's that decided.
Underwood stood up as Kloons entered, carrying a silver tray loaded with a tea
service. Ah, thank you, Kloons. I'm afraid Flinch missed, Daventry
and I won't be staying. But I'm sure these chaps are all gasping for
a cup. Daventry, West and Toby exchanged doubtful glances to Underwood. West
said, will you have further need of us tonights? My lord? If
not, I for one wouldn't mind retiring for the night. No, no,
of course not West. You all go ahead and get some shut eye.
Elizabeth and Flinch can bring you up to speed tomorrow. At the door,
he addressed Kloons. Kloons a CONCIERNATCHO are taking the auto caravana back to
Spain in the morning. They'll be staying here overnight, so see that they're
comfortable, would you, Yes, mid Lord, said Kloons. I've consulted
with them, but this and all has taken care of. Your room is
also ready for you when you returned, and I've made up a room for
mister Flinch. Good man Kloons, you see, Flinch, that's how it's
done here. Very nice, Thank you, mister Kloons, said David.
But this offhand criticism of Underwoods had nettled him. He decided now might be
a good time to point out what he felt was not a good example of
how it was done by the way, my lord, have you got a
key to get in later? What a door key? No one's given you
one. Of course, you could always just wake up the whole house by
banging on the door at the crack of sparrows, but it's probably easier if
you just have a key. Underwood frowned. He turned to Daventry and West.
He cleared his throat and said, do you have a key for me?
Gentlemen? Oh? Said West, turning to Daventry and Toby. Who
has the key? James? Oh? Uh, yes, I have our
one. Daventry took a key from his pocket. But I'm I'm afraid,
and all the excitement day we forgot to get another one. Cut the kloons.
You have one, don't you do as yet? Sir? Oh?
Oh, dear. He handed his key to Underwood. I do apologize,
my lord. I'll be sure to get some from the departting agency family first
thing in the morning. Can I have one? Asked David. Daventry looked
as if David had asked him to polish his shoes. What capital idea,
said Underwood, see to it, Daventry. Daventry dipped his head in a
bow. Yes, my Lord Underwood was about to put his key in his
pocket when he stopped. Actually, you should probably take this one, flinch,
just in case, for some unforeseen reason, my trousers should combust later
on. It has been knowing to happen. My Lord, David took the
key, you know. Come to think of it, Underwood reached into his
jacket pocket and withdrew his watch. You'd better take this too, after all,
in the event of fire, the jacket's not going to be any safer
than the bridges. What David took the watch? Yes, But alternatively,
my lord, you could always just leave it here, just in case I
happened to fall down an escalator. That's been known to happen, too,
true. But if we were to do that, how would I ever be
able to tell the time? Well, I've got a watch, you can
always ask me. And why would I do that when I have a perfectly
good time piece of my own. On seeing David's look of puzzlement tinged with
mild angst, Underwood smiled, don't worry, flinch, I trust you to
take as good care of her as you'll do yourself. Well, that's oddly
reassuring. Nonsense. Just pop her in your pocket and she'll be fine,
all right, he panted David on the shoulder. Now let's get cracking,
shall we. He strode down the hall, opened the front door, and
went outside. Once Underwood was out of earshot, David turned back to Kloon's
and held out the watch. I reckon, maybe you should hang on to
this, mister Kloons. Cloons shook his head. I think not, sir.
The mastard was very clear he wishes for you to bring it along with
you. Yep. But if we get into a scrape, if it gets
broken, I'm sure the bastard is well aware of the risks, sir.
Nevertheless, he had trusted safe keeping to you. Yeah, but I'm not
exactly wearing armored pants, Cloones. It's precious, as I'm sure are all
the contents of your pad, sir. The ghost of a smile played upon
Kloon's features before he added deferentially, and mister fledge, with the greatest respect,
sir, you are the custodian of the watch, not I. An
eyebrow barely rose a delicate inquiry as to David's understanding. David looked down at
the watch, its gleaming, polished case covered in a million tiny scratches.
He tilted it slightly, revealed his distorted reflection. It was incredible it had
survived for so long with nothing more than the bodies of his ancestors and their
pockets to protect it. He raised it to his ear and heard it ticking
inside its case. I believe I hear a car outside, sir, said
Kloons, his lordship. Perhaps David slipped the watch into his jean's pocket.
Yeah, yeah, of course, thanks mister Kloons. It's just clues,
sir, right, Cloones, Okay, David turned to leave. Or mister
flinch before you go, a useful tip, perhaps, what's that I noticed
you put the Master's watch in your pocket. Yeah, well, I'm kind
of limited on options, Clones, Yes, sir, but this is precisely
my tip. He touched the top of the right hand pocket of his own
trousers. In jeans, you have a small pocket within the pocket just here.
David checked and found that he did. He'd noticed it and others like
it in pairs of jeans all his life. But never thought anything of it.
That's a watch pocket, sir, A designed feature from an age before
the wristwatch, is it? David took the watch and transferred it to the
watch pocket, where it fitted snugly. He grinned, Well, how about
that I never knew. Hopefully it'll make you feel more secure, sir.
David patted his pocket. It already is, Cloones, thank you. He
gave Cloons a parting salute, then turned to hurry outside to where Elizabeth's green
Mercedes was now idling in the road waiting for him. Elizabeth was behind the
wheel, and underwood silhouette was just visible in the back. The tip of
his cigarette glowed bright red as he leaned over, and then the rear door
nearest the curbs wung open. Chop, chop, flinch, came his voice
from the shadowy interior. We don't have all night. David got in beside
him, and Underwood turned to meet Elizabeth's eize in the rear view mirror.
You have the address, Elizabeth, drive on, and so Underwood, David
and Elizabeth Daventry head off into the night for a date with Ronnie Bishop.
What treasures lie buried in the old journalist's mind and will Underwood be able to
unearth them to find out Join me next time when Underwood and Flinch continues.
The music you're listening to is ahmad Amor by Farid Farjad from the album and
Rusa Volume four, courtesy of Taranay Records and our good friend Fawaz al Malud.
You can stream the track from Spotify, YouTube Music, Google Music,
and all the other music streamers out there.