Hello you, and welcome back to Underwood and Flinch, where we are deep
into a plot so thick that I feel I need to list a few of
the ingredients for you, just so you know what that delightful smell wafting in
from the kitchen is actually composed of. Last time we rejoined Claire Redmond,
who recently fell into a trap laid by Lydia Flinch. What exactly happened in
that hotel room in Whitechapel we can't know, because all Claire remembers is whatever
Lydia wants her to remember. Claire does know and strongly that she has to
be at the heart of the London vampire murder investigation. Now. She also
suspects that her boss, Detective Chief Superintendent Charles Coleridge, isn't playing straight with
her when he says that the murders were committed by a serial killer that Detective
Inspector Guy Valentine and his people that Falconbridge CID are investigating. Coleridge was her
late father's partner in what she believes was a covert police department called the Occult
Crimes Unit. Her father had a ring that she still wears around her neck
and Valentine has a ring that she suspects is identical, and so putting these
suspicions together, stirring gently and adding a little dash of lydia in the subconscious
mind for a good measure, and you have the perfect recipe for Underwood and
Flinch Season four Underground. Written and performed for podcast by Mike Bennett. This
podcast is intended for mature audiences. Listener discretion is advised. Episode nine,
A flash of flame rose over the heads of the lunchtime diners sitting at the
counter of the Tepan sushi restaurant in London's Camden Town, catching the eye of
Claire Redmond, where she sat at her table by the window. The waiter
had explained earlier that the setting fire to food doused in splashes of vodka on
the tepan the grill was all part of the Teppanyaki style of cooking. Claire
sipped her jasmine tea and turned her eyes back to the window. She was
waiting for Guy Valentine. They'd arranged to meet at one o'clock. Claire had
been at the restaurant since twelve. She'd been unable to concentrate in the office.
Her thoughts were then as now ever, circling the question of the murder
cases of the previous day and how Coleridge had handed them both over to Valentine.
Technically, what Coleridge had done was fair enough, given that the murders
had been identified as the work of a serial killer already being investigated by Valentine
and his people at Falconbridge, but who had identified them as such. The
medical examiners hadn't even officially established how the victims had been killed, and yet
Coleridge had acted in complete certainty that both murders were the handiwork of Falconbridge's highly
classified quarry. He'd done this on the basis that the victims had both seemingly
been exanguinated. This cause of death then, was the only required factor for
homises to be handed over to Falconbridge. For Claire, the inescapable conclusion was
that Falconbridge had to be the center of operations for the Occult Crimes Unit,
assuming that was still its official designation. She didn't know Falconbridge, so she'd
googled it, and a quick search revealed that it was located on the outer
eastern edge of Battersea Park. She clicked on an image of the place on
Google Maps, expecting to see a typically large London police station, but instead
saw what looked like a wide Victorian bungalow. It was more like a park
warden's lodge than a police station. There were no police cars parked outside.
In fact, there didn't even appear to be a car park. Puzzled,
she decided to drive across town and check it out for herself. She parked
at nearby Battersey Police Station and had asked the duty sergeant about it. And
it has been close to the public for donkeys year's mum, he said,
as far as I know these days, it's mostly used for data storage.
Data storage, you mean it's not an operational police station, That's what I
understand. But I heard it has a CID department, an active CID department,
the sergeant smiled, be a very small one if it does, ma'am
you been neah, No, I'm just going over there now. Oh,
good luck finding anybody in. It's usually shut upsither than a duck's ass.
She'd walked through Battersea Park and found the Falcon Bridge station on the other side,
facing a main road. It was shabbier than it had appeared on the
Google picture. It sat under the boughs of brooding oaks and was fenced off
by high black railings topped with arrowhead points. She tried the closed gates,
but they were locked, so she looked through the railings to the building itself
for some sign of life inside. The walls were white, or had been
once. A dusting of exhaust search from years of passing traffic gave the front
facade a gray appearance. The twin front doors, painted black, were shut,
and the four front windows were screened by steel mesh shutters. She noticed
a small sign on one of the doors, just above a doorbell. She
squinted to read press for assistance. Not much chance of that, she thought.
The only sign that the building was, or ever had been, a
police station was a traditional blue lamp set on the wall beside the door.
Above that was a more contemporary edition, one of two CCTV cameras, one
aimed at the front door, the other at the front gate, so presumably
it was monitoring her. She stepped back, searching the railings for an intercom
or other means of contacting whoever was inside, but there was nothing. Maybe
the sergeant Battersea had been right. It was just a data storage facility,
but this was the place where Valentine had said he was stationed. He'd said
it, and so had Coleridge. She looked into the single black eye of
the CCTV camera and wondered if it was being actively monitored or just running on
a record setting. Maybe Valentine was inside now watching her on a screen.
There was one way to find out. She took out her work phone and
called him. Watching the CCTV camera, she listened to it ring. After
eight rings, he answered, Valentine, DCI Valentine, this is d I
Redmond. We met yesterday. Oh, hello Redmond, how can I help
you? Well? Actually I was wondering if I could help you. Sir.
You told me to call you if anything else occurred to me about the
two homicides, and it has really he sounded interested. What's that? Then?
I do not say over the phone, sir? Can we meet?
What's the matter? I've road someone might be listening in. No, sir,
I'd just like to tell you in person, if that's all right.
Ah. He was quiet for a few moments, then replied, okay,
sure, when's good for you? Redmond looked straight into the camera. How
about now? No, sorry, that's no good. I'm out on the
case. Really whereabouts Camden? Our forensic people are taking an extensive look at
the sight of the skip body. Found anything interesting, nothing I can share
with you, Redmond. This one's glassified, remember, Redmond smiled coolly.
Ah, yes, of course. So how about we meet for lunch somewhere
around where you are? Now? All right, sounds good. Actually I
know just a sushi restaurant on the way here, a place called tap An.
Do you know it? I do? Yes? What time? How
about one o'clock? Okay, see you? Then she hung up and come
straight here, Martinis asked the waiter. He was smiling, but she sensed
he was keen for her to pay up and leave so he could use this
table for four more profitably. She smiled, no, thank you, I
still have some to drink, or perhaps you would like something to eat now,
not yet, I'm waiting for someone, as you like, Miss with
a small bow. The waiter turned and walked away. She noticed some women
standing at the counter looking at her with undisguised annoyance. As she voted her
eyes. She was gladdened to see Guy Valentine coming in through the door.
She held up a hand to catch his eye. On seeing her, he
smiled and came over. D you see I Valentine, she said, rising
to shake his hand. Thanks so much for coming along. She extended a
hand to the chair opposite her. So how's the investigation going? Oh?
Well enough, he said, Sitting down, he noticed her now empty teacup.
I hope I haven't kept you waiting. Oh no, I've just got
him myself. A flash of fire from the counter turned Valentine's head. Well
you've certainly got a good seat for watching the pyrotechnics. Are you're a fan
of sushi? She shrugged, yes, but I'm no connoisseur. Oh I
love it, he said, picking up the menu. I try to have
it a couple of times a week if I can. Amazingly good for you,
you know, so, I hear. She watched him as he perused
the menu, his ring finger towards her. No doubt about it. She
thought it was the same ring as her father's. Without looking up, Valentine
said, so, what's this thing he wanted to talk about in relation to
the case. Hm, he murmured, sashimi. Sorry. He looked up
from the menu, sashimi. It looks very good here, he saw the
look on Claire's face called for more information, and oh, it's raw fish
or meat sliced very thinly. And I see they have fresh Goddish salmon,
so I think I might go for that, at least for the starter.
But what are you going to have? Oh? I don't know. I
haven't really thought about it. Really, aren't you hungry? Claire really hadn't
thought about it, but now that she did, she realized she was actually
yes, I am. Well, we could share if you like, order
a variety of things between us. Okay, you seem to know your way
around the menu better than I do, so why don't you order for both
of us? He smiled, Okay, if you trust me, I'd be
happy to do. You have any special food requirements, vegetarian allergies, anything
like that. No, great, that makes life a lot easier. Valentine
caught the attention of the waiter and began to order from the menu, pointing
to the items as he spoke. Claire took the opportunity to further inspect his
ring. She could now clearly make out the raised cross motif set in the
center of a circle. She was so focused on it that she didn't notice
he'd finished speaking to the waiter. Inspector, he said. She looked up.
Both Valentine and the waiter were looking at it expectantly. Would you like
something to drink? Oh, yes, just a glass of water. Valentine
handed the menu to the waiter and asked for a picture of water. Then
he turned back to her. So this information of yours, what have you
got for me? Claire hesitated for a moment, then leaned in closer to
him over the table and said, in a confidential tone, you remember at
the church yesterday you asked me if I thought this might be the work of
a real vampire. He grinned, Yes, Sorry, I didn't mean to
sound like I was taking the piss. No need for apologies. As you
said, it's the impression the killer is likely trying to achieve, unless,
of course, he is a real vampire. Valentine chuckled, Yes, yes,
well I've changed my mind. He frowned. Changed it how yesterday I
told you I didn't think it was the work of a real vampire, but
today I do. Actually I did yesterday, but I didn't think it would
be very good. I did to say so Valentine took a moment to digest
her words. Then he smiled, not serious, I am, sir.
You're telling me that you think there's some kind of Count Dracula on the loose
in London. Well, that's not how i'd put it. No, so
how would you put it as I already did? Sir? I think a
vampire, a real one, is responsible for the murders. No, not
one, two? Actually two? What murders? No? Two vampires.
He watched her expression, looking for a sign that maybe she was winding him
up, but she met his eyes with unflinching seriousness. He sat back and
sighed, he I see you surprise me, inspector. You don't seem the
sort of person who could come to such a conclusion. I thought you were
more rational than that. Oh, I'm very rational, sir. But the
truth is, and forgive my candor, I think that you're actually aware that
this is the work of real vampires and for some reason, presumably public safety.
You're not saying so, Valentine laughed. Oh, I see, so
what there's a conspiracy is there? And I'm part of it? No,
sir, said Claire coolly. You're not part of a conspiracy. You're part
of the OCU. Valentine's eyebrows arched in amazement. He withdrew his hands from
the table and sat back the what the Occult Crimes Unit, Sir? I
believe that you and Detective Superintendent call Ridge are part of a covert Scotland Yard
department that deals with crimes which are specifically a cult in nature. The waiter
returned with the pitcher of water. Claire held Valentine's eyes as the waiter set
down two glasses and filled them. Once he had gone, Valentine said,
you're serious, audn't you You really believe what you're saying. Yes, sir.
For a moment, all he could do was stare at her. Then
he looked off to the side and shook his head. I don't know what
to say, Inspector DCS Coleridge told me your late father had similar ideas,
But Jesus, he turned to face her again. Honestly, I think the
strain of the job might be getting to you, Redmond. Seriously, it
might be a good idea if you'd take a holiday or something, and then
maybe when you get back. I don't know. I don't want to sound
insensitive or anything. But perhaps you should see a psychiatrist. Really well,
yes, Jesus Redmond, there's no such thing as vampires, for God's sake,
he smiled wearily. Please tell me you're taking the piss here. I
can't tell you that, sir. But I can't tell you what I know.
Ah, please do okay. I know that Father Byrne was exanguinated via
two puncture wounds in his neck. I know that the other victim, the
one in a skip, was also exanguinated, though I believe the wound we
saw is an attempt to disguise the actual points of that exanguination, which again
I believe were two puncture marks made by a vampire. Yes, but not
the same one that killed Father Byrne, because the method is different, So
you conclude that the killer is also different, Yes, sir, I see?
So is that it? It's all I know for sure, Sir.
I had know a lot more if I hadn't been taken off the case.
Oh I see, And so this theory of yours is going to get you
back on the case. Is it? It's true, isn't it? She
said, her eyes leavily on his. He laughed, ha ha, Yeah,
Yeah, it's true. And Fred and Rose West were actually undercover martians.
Did you know that one? He shook his head pityingly. Look,
I don't know about you, but I've lost my appetite. Seriously, Redmond,
if you honestly believe what you're saying, then you do need to seek
professional help before you let this fantasy of yours develop any further. And it
goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway. For Fox's sake, don't
repeat a word of this to Coleridge, or you'll likely find yourself directing traffic
for the rest of your career. He took out his wallet. Don't worry,
I'll get this and I'll take mine to go. Oh impressive, sir,
said Claire. Very impressive. Do you do a lot of the cover
work? Valentine frowned. What what do you mean your acting ability? If
I didn't know for a fact you were lying, I'd almost believe you weren't.
Valentine regarded her with a pitying look, then took out a twenty pound
note from his wallet. He got up and tossed the note on the table.
Goodbye, Inspector, enjoy your lunch, sit down, or I go
to the press. Valentine froze what you heard me? Sit down, or
I'll go to the press. You may not want to hear what I have
to say, but I'm sure they will. Valentine sat down, his face
grave Redmond. Let me be very clear here. If you do that,
you're finished. Surely you know that my duty is to protect the public,
sir, and I'll do that even if it costs me my career. People
have a right to know, a right to know that Dracula is in town.
Jesus Christ, Redmand, you really are insane, aren't you. Claire
smiled, Oh, don't think I haven't wondered. But no I'm not.
So let's discuss the case. What discuss the case? Said Valentine, his
expression utterly incredulous. Well, really, Redmond, what's the point. What's
the point of even continuing the investigation? Why don't we just hand things over
to Professor van Helsing or maybe Scooby Doo and the kids in the Mystery Machine
can take over. They always seem to get there, man, o't they.
That's funny, sir. Let's see if you think this is She reached
behind her neck and unclasped her chain. She drew it from her blouse,
along with her father's ring, which she allowed to spin between their eyes for
a moment before she laid it down on the white tablecloth in front of her.
Valentine's eyes followed the ring to where it rested, then looked back to
hers. And what's that? Don't you recognize it? It's the same as
the you have on your finger. I wasn't sure at first, but I
checked your hand when you came in. Then when I mentioned the OCU,
you hid it under the table, just as you are now. Valentine,
whose hands were under the table, gave a dismissive laugh. Huh, so
I have a ring on my finger? He raised his hands and held them
up to her before dropping them to the table. So what what part does
my ring? Which I bought in a flea market when I was a teenager?
By the way, a play in your elaborate fantasy. Please tell me
I've never been part of a psychotic delusion before. I have to say,
it's absolutely fascinating. It's a very unique design, isn't it. What is?
It looks like a cross, but if you look closely, I think
it actually resembles a hammer of some sort. Valentine picked up Claire's ring,
scrutinized it for a few moments, then dropped it before glancing at his own.
Well, I have no idea. It looked cool when I was a
kid. I'd take it off, but my fingers groaned since I put it
on. You should try rubbing soap on it, sir. It's a dead
giveaway to anyone who knows what it is. Oh really, and what is
it? I believe it's a sign of what of belonging, Valentine scoffed,
belonging to what this OCU of yours? Yes, But more than that,
I believe it denotes membership of an order of some sort, an order what
like the Mason's the old funny handshake Brigade. Perhaps the ring takes the place
of the funny handshake, or maybe it's additional. My god, he tapped
a finger to his temple. You've really constructed a whole world up there,
haven't you. So how come you have this ring? Are you remember too?
Maybe the Grand Wizard? It was my father's. I found it in
a box of hidden things that included case souvenirs relating to his career in the
OCU. Bad things mostly oh like what silver bullets, wooden steaks, photos,
notebooks, things he'd brought home from his cases. Valentine was about to
speak when the waiter arrived with the food. Valentine held up a hand to
stop him and asked for it to be bagged to go. The waiter assented
and took it away again. Then Valentine, suddenly serious, said, you
say he brought things home from his cases? Can you be more specific?
Why it's only part of my delusion? Because if this particular part of your
delusion has any basis in fact, your father was stealing evidence, and that,
as I'm sure I don't need to remind you, is illegal. We
can't arrest him. He's dead. Do you still have it? Why?
Because it's still evidence, it belongs in case files OCU case files. There
is no OCU, Redmond. Then why was OCU rubber stamped on official police
documents in the boxes documents? He had documents as well, Yes, case
files, case files. Valentine's hands were balled into fists, Redmond, if
you are bullshitting me, now is the time to stop. Okay, just
because I know nothing about this OCU of yours doesn't mean it doesn't exist.
What you have is police property really, and so it ought to be in
that bunny Hutch police station of yours by Battersea Park or by the way,
what are the opening hours at Falconbridge? I went by it today and it
was shut pretty odd for a London police station. It's not open to the
public, Redmond, It's not that kind of station and didn't look like it
was open at all. Don't try and change the bloody subject. If you're
in possession of historical police evidence, you need to give it to me.
I would, sir, but I might need it when I go to the
press. If what you're saying is true, you won't be going to the
press. You'll be going to jail. Now answer me straight, and I'm
ordering you as your superior. Do you or do you not have police evidence?
Claire set her jaw. He had her. She forced a smile.
No, sir, my mother burnt it all. She thought she saw a
glimmer of relief in his eyes. She took her phone from her jacket pocket.
What are you doing, said Valentine. I'm phoning the press. I
don't have evidence, but I do have a police badge. I think they'll
believe me. Valentine watched as she unlocked her phone. His expression worried,
Jesus, your pathetic Redmond. Do you know that all this because you can't
accept that you've been taken off a couple of murder cases. I have to
be at the heart of the investigation, said Claire as she searched her address
book for the number of the evening courier. Oh do you? Valentine's tone
was superior, but his face was tight with nerves. So this is how
you go about it, is it, Redmond? I promise you you do
this, and the only thing you'll be at the heart of is the bloody
job center. She found the number and hesitated with a smile. She said,
well I, Valentine continued, Look, you're stressed, out, confused,
but for God's sake, don't let a passing delusion wreck a promising career.
Claire picked up the chain with her father's ring. She tilted it to
the light and on its inside surface saw her father's initials, finely carved in
cursive script. She thought for a moment, then pocketed the ring. You're
right, I am deluded, a sore loser who simply can't accept the truth.
So why don't you show me the truth, sir, take me down
to Falconbridge and show me the incident room noticeboards you talked about. With all
the evidence of your serial killer, there's nothing untoward or unprofessional in that.
Valentine shook his head. No, why not, because it's classified information.
The only reason it's classified is because you want to keep it from the media.
But if you won't let me see it, then that's exactly where it
will go. The waiter came back with the bags of food and put them
down on the table. Valentine paid the bill, all the time his eyes
on Claire and the phone she held in her hand. When the waiter had
gone, he said, who are you going to call the courier? If
I call them now, I can still make this evening's edition, don't,
said Valentine. Claire's finger moved to the call button. You are finished if
you do take me to Falconbridge. Valentine's lip curled into a snarl. Who
the fuck do you think? Claire pressed, call as you like. I
hope you don't mind so, but I'll have to mention you by name and
DCS Coleridge. Of course, unavoidable. Really. She turned from him and
spoke into the receiver. Oh hello, I wonder if you can help me.
I think I may have a story for you. In a lightning move,
Valentine lunged across the table, snatched the phone from Redman's hand and dropped
it into the picture of water. Claire stared at her submerged phone in disbelief.
You fucking how dare you? You fucked up Redmond big time. Valentine
stood and snatched two of the bags of food. Sorry about the phone,
I'd say put in for a new one, but I doubt you'll be in
the job long enough to submit the request. You think this is going to
stop me? I can still go down there in person, you know.
Valentine came alongside her and leaned down. His mouth was close to her ear.
You do that, and trust me, you'll end up in the same
place as your old man. He stood up and smiled pleasantly. Enjoy the
sam sheemy. He walked away. Claire was stunned For a few moments.
All she could do was sit struggling with what Valentine had just said to her.
It had been a threat, yes, but had it also been an
admission spoken in anger of something more? He'd mentioned earlier about how Coleridge had
told him of her father's problems, but clearly he also knew of his being
committed, and now he was threatening to have her committed too. Is that
what they did when someone crossed them? Is that what they had done to
her father? She opened her bag and took out her personal phone, noticing
as she did that her hands were trembling. Going to the press had been
a bluff. She hadn't fully depressed the call button. How could she be
at the heart of the investigation if she and it were exposed in the media.
But she still had one card left to play, and Valentine's threat of
having her committed had just given her license to play it, much as she
hated him. Right now, she would make a call to her godfather,
uncle Charlie Coleridge. No time to go through the proper channels. She had
his personal mobile number in her address book. She selected it and pressed call.
She got up and went after Valentine, who was just going out of
the door. Coleridge came on the line, his voice concerned, Claire,
what's the matter? Hello, sir, Sorry, but this is a bit
of an emergency. Hold the line and listen. Would you. She went
out onto the street and caught Valentine by the shoulder. So it's all true,
then, DCI of Valentine, the OCU, the London vampire, you've
as good as admitted it. Not just that, but also that the OCU
had my father committed when he wasn't even ill. Valentine turned and saw she
was holding out her phone, face up between them like a journalist looking for
a quote. I'm sorry, he said, wary that she could be on
the line to the press. I have nothing to say to you, Inspector.
Well, maybe you'd like to say something to your boss. I have
him on the line. I'm sure he'd like to hear how you just threatened
to have me committed to Valentine's jaw tightened, the look in her eyes angry,
yet triumphant told him she wasn't lying what Claire spoke to the phone.
I think Inspector Valentine would like a word, sir. She handed the phone
to Valentine. Try not to drop it as a good lad. Valentine took
the phone and saw the illuminated contact was Uncle Charlie. He put the phone
cautiously to his ear and said hello, Claire. Watched as Valentine's face reddened.
Yes, Sir, he said, yes, sir, but she was
going to go to the press. I had to No, Sir, No,
sir. He looked at Claire. Of course, Sir handed the phone
back to her. She put it to her ear. Hello. There was
silence for a few moments. Then Choleridge spoke, his voice simmering with controlled
anger. You and Valentine in my office. Now, I think it's time
we had a talk. And so the moment of truth arrives for Claire Redmond,
our guy, Valentine and Charles Coleridge really agents of the Occult Crimes Unit.
Will she learn what happened to her father and of the dark forces that
lurk just beneath the surface of our world, or will she end up in
the same place as her old man. One thing is for sure, listeners,
whatever Claire finds out, she'll also be the eyes and ears of Lydia
Flinch. The music you're listening to is Ahmad armored by Faried Fanjad, courtesy
of Tarana Records and our good friend FAA's Al Malud. You can buy the
track from Tarona Records, from iTunes, from Amazon, or of course,
stream it from Spotify, Google Music, YouTube Music, and everywhere else that
streams music.