Speaker 1: Hello you all listenings of Underwood and flinche Psaga episode
ninety nine for Hello listeners, and welcome back to Underwood
and Flinch. This is season six, the second half of
what will one day be the novel Underwood and Flinch
in Tanabaris, which in turn is the fourth quarter of
the original very large Patreon production Underwood and Flinch Underground. Confused,
don't be or you need to worry about. All you
need to do is stay subscribed to this podcast and
I will keep these lovely Underwooden Flinch fixes coming one
a month, month after month, year after year, so you
will always be receiving a little Underwooden Flinch in your life. Huzzah.
But wait, what am I thinking? Skipping over the ginormous
revelation that if this is Saga episode ninety nine, then
next month's episode will be the one hundredth episode of
Underwood and Flinch. Yes, the Underwood and Flinch Centennial. What
started in December two thousand and eight is a short
story and became this lovely thing that you're listening to now,
and that I sincerely hope you enjoy very much, and
may well have done so for a good many of
the sixteen years of this show's existence. So how shall
we celebrate it? Well, I thought it might be a
nice thing to do if you were to leave some
comments at the Mike Bennett author page at Facebook. I'll
put up a post there and you can post a
reply to it, and I will read out what you
say there, assuming it's nice, of course, on the one
hundredth episode. What sort of things could you say? Well,
you could say what your favorite scene of the saga is,
or maybe you'd like to share a personal anecdote about
what the show meant to you at a particular time
in your life, Like maybe your child was born while
you were listening to season one and now they're sixteen
and listening to the show themselves. Or maybe you bought
your first apartment when the show was in your ears.
Or maybe you were listening to it when you met
your spouse, or you were studying for your final exams
and it gave you a headbreak, you know, while you
were studying that sort of thing. You know, you get
the idea, leave your comment at the one hundredth episode
post at the Mike Bennett Author Facebook page or at
my website Mike Bennett author dot com. And indeed, if
you would like your actual voice to be on this
special centennial episode, why not make a personal recording using
your phone's recording app, convert it to MP three and
email it to me at the Mic Bennett at yahoo
dot co dot uk. That's Mike Bennett at Yahoo dot
co dot uk. Probably best to keep it down to
about a minute or so, just in case, you know,
more than a few of you sends something in You
never know, I mean, stranger things have happened at sea,
haven't they. So yes, I do hope you will join
in with me for this centennial celebration, especially if you're
a long time listener. You know who you are, ladies
and gentlemen, and so do I. All Right, So that's
that then, and I look forward to hearing from you.
But now it's time to get back to our story
and to springboard us into it. Here's me in twenty
eighteen with the recap. Okay, so remember how Lydia lured
Redmond to that hotel in Whitechapel by pretending to be
a frightened witness called Jesse Collins. Remember then, how Claire
went and was consequently fascinated by Lydia and then set
to spark on Guy Valentine for Lydia. Guy Valentinian of
the guy who Collridge put in charge of the London
vampire investigation. It was all going quite well until Coleridge
sussed out what was going on and unfascinated Claire. When
he did, she was able to remember all that had
happened to her at the hotel and recount it to Coleridge. Consequently,
Coleridge recruited her as an officer of the Ocult Crimes Unit.
But meanwhile Guy Valentine was called away as a result
of mister David Flinch being arrested at Hoban Station. Guy
went to Hoban and, along with his cohorts Whitmore and Sloane,
began an interrogation of David that ended abruptly with the
arrival of a team of sect assassins who murdered everybody
and abducted David too, as we know, reunite him with
Lord Underwood. But that's another story. So then the last
time he saw Redmond, she and Coleridge went to Hoban
to see the terrible end that Guy Valentine and his
friends had come to. Coleridge read and Bob Jeffreys, who
we learned is also OCU, had a private conflab in
the toilet all about what had happened and what to
do next. From that conversation, it was decided that Claire
should go home and get some much needed sleep. But
since Lydia told Claire that she would call her on
the phone that night, Coleridge determined that she shouldn't be
alone and that he would find somewhere to stay with
her to safeguard her overnight. He also gave her a
loan of the gun he was carrying, and he told
her that from the next day her sidekick in the
OCU would be one Anna mackay, who was going to
be Guy Valentine's detective constable. That scene, which is important
to what's to come, went like this, God, it's been
a long and terrible day. I need to get some sleep,
and I know you definitely do Redmond in the morning.
I want you to report directly to Falconbridge and liaise
with Anna McKay. She had just been assigned to work
with Valentine on the London Van by a case, but
now he's well, now it's your case again, so she'll
be your DC. Do you know her, Claire did, and
she didn't like her. Mackay was in her late twenties,
an attractive bottle blonde who played along with her male
colleagues's occasional sexist banter when she should have been reporting it,
and from what Redmond had heard, she was none too
diligent to copper either. But when your dad is a
sitting member of the Metropolitan Police Board, she stopped herself
from going down that line of thought and said, yes, sir.
And so now as we rejoin the story, we're back
in the blood spattered office in Hobourn Underground Station with
Claire and Bob Jeffries Falconbridge's own scenes of crimes. Officers
have arrived to take over the scene, and Coleridge has
cleared off above ground for a bit to try and
rustle up someone to stay with Claire overnight. So does
anybody have any questions? No? Good, Well, then let's waste
no further time as we once again go underground into
Underwood and Flinch Season six in Tenner Bress, Written and
performed for podcast by Mike Bennett. This podcast is intended
for an adult audience. Listener discretion is advised. Episode one,
Guy Valentine's body was being zipped into a body bag
when Detective Constable Anna Mackay arrived at the crime scene
in the underground offices at Hoburn Station. Oh God, Mackay's
hand went to her mouth. She waved at the officer's
handling the body to wait. She came over and knelt
beside the body, laying a hand on the now pvc
and shrouded chest. She said, we'll get the bastard guy,
I promise. Claire Redmond groaned inwardly. Coleridge had said that
mackay would be working this case with her, but he
hadn't mentioned that she'd be here tonight. She glanced sideways
at Bob Jeffrey's and saw with some disappointment that his
face was filled with somber compassion as he looked down
on Mackay's little performance. Coleridge had said mackay had only
just been called up to f our Combridge to act
as Valentine's number two in the wake of the London
vampire murders, in which case she you could barely have
known him. Yet here she was hamming it up like
they had grown up together since childhood. Claire looked at
her watch, reminding herself that it was always possible that
mackay had known him for longer. Maybe they had worked
at the same police station at some stage, ma'am, said MacKaye. Rising.
She extended a latex gloved hand. Anna, Mackay, your new
d C. Redmond shook the propheted hand. You've spoken to
DCS college. Yeah, saw him on the street just outside
when we arrived. Is said, you're taking over the case. Yes,
that's right. So did you know d C I Valentine?
Well not well, no, he was a skipper down at
Falconbridge when I was doing my training. She glanced around
at the faces of the Scene of Crimes officers working
the scene. Like her, they were wearing hooded white crime
scene overalls. Some of them also wore cotton dust particle masks,
making identification difficult. Reading her mind, Jeffreys said, it's all right, mackay,
this is a Falconbridge scene. Now you can speak freely. Thanks.
I feel like I know hardly anyone on the team.
And now she glanced aside to where Valentine is now
being stretched out of the room, and now even fewer.
And that'll change, said Jeffreys. I've a feeling that once
this London vampire business is over, Falconbridge will be restored
to fully operational status. Play your cards right and you
two could both find yourselves working underground full time underground,
said Redmond. Aye, Falconbridge is on the ground. Redmond frowned, puzzled.
She recalled the small cottage like police station she had
seen that morning at the edge of Battersea Park. Had
she gone to the wrong place?
Speaker 2: Whereabouts? Is it?
Speaker 1: Bob butter see you mean the place? It looks like
a park Warden's lodge. Jeffrey smiled, Ah, you've not been
insane the take, Redmond. No, Well, that Park Warren's lodge
of yours is only the outer shell. The actual complex
is underneath it. And Deneth says, but why well, secrecy
is a part of it, but it's mostly for security purposes.
The OCU was originally based at Scotland Yard, the original
Scotland Yard, mind you, back in the Victorian era. But
the vamps they had far too easy a time getting
in and fucking things up. Security is a bitch when
your enemy can climb sheer walls, or why oh, you
can bar the windows, but that'll do you no good.
When they turned to mist those old buildings just didn't
have the windows to keep them out, so they decided
to move the whole thing underground and did that work?
Geoffrey shrugged, Well, nothing's perfect. Back in the day they
had guard dogs, insane and out. A dog knows a
vampire when they encounter one, even if the buggers are
in their incorporeal For to our raiseer looks they missed.
But there is no fooling a dog's nose. Nowadays, though
it's all uv Layton, it's all over the place, So
if you have dander off problems, be sure and dust
yourself down before you go in. Otherwise your shoulders are
laid up like fucking Christmas trees. A voice called from
the doorway. Redmond Claire turned to see Coleridge. He had
left us some forty minutes earlier to make some calls,
but in that time his face looked as though it
had aged five years. Not for the first time, Claire
wondered how badly the death of Guy Valentine had hit him.
Sir he beckoned her a quick word. He turned back
into the corridor and Redmond followed. He led her down
the corridor and away from the activity of the crime scene,
stopping just before the toilets where they had spoken earlier. Okay, now,
I've been trying to locate someone to come home with
you in case it's Lydia. Vampire pays you a visit tonight.
But as you know, we've got precious few fully qualified
people a Falconbridge at the moment. I've been given the
ok to call up all our remaining officers from around
the country and begin the process of recruiting new blood
from tomorrow. But that doesn't help us with our immediate problem. Sir,
it's all right. Really, she doesn't know where I live.
I'm sure of that. You help me remember everything that happened.
We can't be sure of that, Claire Coleridge cut in.
You think you remember everything, but we don't know that
you do, not for certain. No, I'm not willing to
take that risk. You're our only connection to Lydia, and
that makes you a vital asset. But you're also a
vital asset to her as well. Don't forget that, no, sir,
I won't. The real danger is that she calls you
and you're alone. I may have deprogrammed you, so to speak,
but there's no guarantee that she can't regain control. I
don't understand how could she do that over the phone.
Like I said, you think you remember everything, but we
don't know that you do. She could have said something
that we don't know about, but we don't have time
to go rummaging around in your head any further looking
for it. Sir, Believe me, I remember everything that happened
that night. There are no gray areas. Coleridge raised her hand. Redmond,
just button it and listen, will you. I don't have
time to go through all the ways a vampire can
trick you and fuck you up, so just take it
from me. You're not out of the woods yet. If
she gets you under her spell again, she gets whatever's
in your head, namely everything that's happened to you since
you and her last met, including details of the o CU,
of me, of Valentine's death, and god knows what else.
And once she has that, the likelihood is she won't
bother trying to redeploy you as a spy. She'll just
kill you, and have done so for that reason, you
are going to have someone come home with you tonight.
And I'm sorry. And now I said, I wouldn't do this,
but it's going to have to be Anna Mackay. She's
the only qualified female field operative we have. But I
thought you said she'd got no first hand experience of vampires.
She doesn't, but she's completed her falcon Bridge training. She's
qualified to handle the kind of encounters that may happen.
All right, but if she's up all night with me,
she won't be well rested in the morning. We won't
be able to work together. Look, Redmond will work all
that out in the morning. Just do as I say,
Detective Inspector. That's an order, Yes, sir, Sorry, sir, I
just she shook her head. It's all been a bit overwhelming,
you know, Yes, I know. We're all a bit bloody overwhelmed.
They caught us on a blind side and knocked us
for six with this hit on Valentine and his men.
But we're rallying. We'll have all the people and resources
we need by sundown tomorrow, and by God, we're going
to use them. He laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
Mackay will stay with you in your flat tonight, and
I'm going to station further armed back up outside to
monitor the street and give her the heads up if
anyone suspicious tries to enter the building. Thank you, sir,
I appreciate it.
Speaker 2: No problem.
Speaker 1: Now just give me a few minutes to brief mackay
on the situation. You go on up to the street,
and to cost a couple of unis to drive the
pair of you back to your place. Okay. Claire nodded, yes, sir.
She watched him go down the corridor. He stopped at
the room where Valentine and his men had died as
two officers emerged, bearing a stretcher between them. On it
was another body bag, the anonymous black shape, giving no
clue as to which of the deceased was inside. Claire
wondered if perhaps Coleridge read the ID tag as it
passed before him, but if he did, he gave no indication.
He waited until the way was clear, then proceeded silently
into the room. Claire patted her jacket pocket and the solid,
reassuring form of Coleridge's smith and wesson pressed against her hip.
Two shots, Jeffreys had said, one to the head, one.
Speaker 2: To the heart.
Speaker 1: Please, card, don't let it come to that, she said
under her breath. Her words surprised her, not because of
what she had said, but to whom she had said them.
She didn't believe in God, but what she had said
had been no casual remark. She had meant it. For
the first time since childhood, she had offered up a prayer.
At any other time, she might have stopped to analyze
the reasons for this strange slip into cognitive dissonance, and
she would have concluded logically that her words had no
audience other than herself. But this was a conclusion she
didn't want to reach. Not to night. She took a
deep breath, straightened her jacket, and made her way out
of the underground as quickly as possible. Conversation on the
journey back to Redmond's flat in thought a screen had
been spare. Redmond and Mackay said in the back of
a squad car driven by a uniform policeman who tried
to engage them on what had happened at Hoburn. He
had been there as part of the crowd and traffic
control around the station. All he knew was that some
detectives had been shot, Redmond's brief giving him no more
than he would read in the papers. The next day.
The officer knew better than to push for more, and
so contented himself with the driving. Redmond and Mackay unable
to discuss details of the case or anything, oh Cu
spent the remainder of the journey in silence. However, once
the driver had dropped them at Claire's house, MacKaye was
quick to get down to business. Coleridge had given her
the bare basics of her mission before they had left
the station, but this was the first opportunity she had
had to speak to Claire since. So let me get
this straight, ma'am. You were fascinated by the London vampire,
then courage unfascinated you, and now the vampire's going to
phone you, or maybe I'm calling in person. Claire nodded
as she took out her keys. Yeah, though I'm assured
the chances of the latter happening at Slim Well, let's hope.
So eh, yeah, let's hope. Claire lived in the upstairs
flat of a converted Victorian semi detached house. The front
wall had been removed and the garden concreted over to
create off road parking. Her downstairs neighbor had let his
flat out to tenants, and the current occupy didn't have
a car, so Claire's Honda Civic had no challenges for
the space. She walked past it and up to the
front door. Mackay looked around at the quiet, tree lined
street with its red brick semi detached houses and nodded approvingly.
Nice neighborhood. Yeah, it is rent or mortgage, rent or mortgage.
The mortgage managed to get out of the rental market
six years ago. Claire opened the door and tapped the
time light switch. Lucky you, Mackay whispered, mindful of the
neighbour's poss being asleep. I rent a place in Wilson
with my bloke. It's shit, but the rent's cheap enough.
We're saving for a mortgage. Oh yeah. Claire checked the
post tray just inside the door. There was nothing but
junk mail. She dropped it straight into the litter bin,
which already contained the neighbor's junk mail. She glanced at
Mackay's ring finger. It was bare. Hi take it his
long term three years come June. We've talked about getting
married and all that, but it's such a bloody expense,
isn't it. Claire nodded, yeah, it is that. She pointed
to up the carpeted stairs. I'm upstairs. She led the way,
and mackay took a quick peek down the entrance hall
before following her. There was a cupboard under the stairs,
and opposite that the door that presumably led to the
other flat. She then went up after Redmond, who was
now on the landing and opening the door to her flat.
What about you, you got a blow or significant other?
Claire almost laughed, No, I blame the job. Mackay grinned, Yeah,
it'll do that for you. You should try one of
them dating websites. That's where I met my mickey. Claire,
who had no intention of using such a website, smiled
politely and said maybe if I ever get the time.
She went inside and turned on the light. Excuse the mess.
I wasn't expecting guests, and thanks to Lydia, I didn't
get home at all last night. She led the way
down the carpeted hall to the living room. Mackay looked
around with interest. Clearly Redmond didn't know what mess was.
The place was pristine. All the walls were painted in
varying shades of neutral colors. With occasional framed modern art prints.
She noted with interest that there were no pictures of people,
no family or friends. Redmond indicated the ikea three piece
sweet make yourself at home? Can I get your tea? Coffee?
I've got some herbal teas if you prefer, Oh, coffee
please black, no sugar, that's it to keep you awake,
from which I guess is just as well. Yeah, can't
be nodding off of the London vampire threatening to cool,
can I? Though? Saying that Coleridge was saying that it's
more like London vampires plural, and that this lyddy of
yours is one of two or more. That's right fucking typical,
isn't it? Not a sight of them for twenty years
and then an old pack of them comes along all
at once like bloody buses in the kitchen. Claire smiled, Yeah,
just our luck. Coleridge says, you can remember now what
happened to you when she had you fascinated? Yeah, so
what happened? Claire popped a bag of Camra mild tea
into a mug for herself and called back, Just give
me a minute, detective Constable. I'll tell you everything I
know over coffee. Two cups of coffee later, Mackay was
fully up to speed on everything that Claire had been
through and all that she knew of what had happened
to Valentine. The conversation had been surprising for Claire. She
had been impressed by Mackay's insightfulness and intelligence, and her
knowledge of vampires, despite never having encountered one in the flesh,
was almost encyclopedic. When Claire asked her if it all
came from Falconbridge's training, Mackay laughed, ha, No, but my
old man was, oh see you. He taught me everything
he knows. What's his name, Jack? Not that Jack McKay
who's on the board of the mat. Claire tried to
sound surprised, even though she knew this to be true. Yeah,
that's him. My granddad was oh ceu too, kind of
runs in the family. BlimE me, and here you are
keeping up the family tradition. Claire had never seen Jack
McKay's name in her father's notes. Perhaps they had never
crossed paths. What about you, asked mackay. Was your dad
oh see you? Or are you one of the new
non hereditary recruits? No, he was o CEU, but he
died when I was young. He never told me much
about his line of work. Throughout the conversation, Claire's phone
had lain silent on the coffee table between herself and Mackay.
She picked it up and noted the time. It was
quarter to one. I'm sorry, said Mackay. Was he killed
in the line of duty? Redmond looked down to the floor,
and Mackay realized her mistake. Oh, sorry, that was I
didn't mean to pry. That's okay, said Claire. But this
was a conversation she didn't want to have. Fortunately, the
lateness of the hour gave her the perfect excuse to
close it down. She looked at her watch, though she
already knew the time. Christ it's late. I don't know
about you, but I'm shattered. I suppose I better turn in,
she got up. Yeah, of course, I hope I didn't
offend you. No, not at all. I'm just tired, that's all, okay. Well,
thanks for the coffee, you're welcome. Just help yourself tomorrow
if you need it. And this food in the fridge cupboards,
you know. Just She covered her mouth as a yawn
overcame her oh, sorry, just help yourself. Thanks, ma'am. Claire. Please,
we're off duty kind of okay, and you can call
me Anna if you like. Thanks. Anna, I'll give you
a shout if Lydia calls. Oh, before you go, which
is your room? I'll show you. Claire led Mackay out
of the living room and down the hall to the
larger of two bedrooms.
Speaker 2: Here.
Speaker 1: I'll leave the door. Ajar Okay. Claire was about to
go inside when she stopped. Anna, Can I ask you?
I know we discussed what Coleridge said about how Lydia
coming here in person was unlikely, but what you were
saying about your dad's experience, did he ever say anything
about this kind of thing? I mean, what do you
think the chances are that Lydia might you're worried about it, Well,
wouldn't you be? MacKaye shrugged. Well, we are kind of
in the same boat here, so yeah, it worries me
a little bit. But we're prepared for her if she does.
We're both armed and we know where to shoot her. Right.
Claire nodded, So we'll be okay if she comes. I
don't think she will. Oh, Carridge knows what it's on
about when it comes to vamps. Just don't look her
in the eyes or listen to any of her bullshit.
We don't take these bastards alive, Claire. Just shoot the bitch,
rue in the head and one in the heart. Yeah,
I know, Jeffrey's told me. And to answer your questions
about my dad's experiences, no, you never spoke about a
situation like this, not specifically anyway. But look, she didn't
ask for your dress and you didn't give it to her,
so unless she gets from another source like the phone book.
But wait, you're not in the phone book, are you. No,
MacKaye smiled. Whether I think we can relax, remember, we've
also got the lads outside keeping an eye on the
You couldn't be safer, Claire sighed, yeah, of course. Sorry,
I'm just new to this vampire stalking kind of thing.
We'll be fine. And if she phones me, I call you.
That's it. Then when I'm with you, you answer and
just play along like you're still in her power. Remembering
Coleridge's concern on the matter, Claire asked, she can't, I
don't know, reactivate me?
Speaker 2: Can she?
Speaker 1: Not? Going by your description of what she said and did, no,
she's a novice at this. Yeah, well, yeah, we believe so.
Speaker 2: God.
Speaker 1: I wish I could pop a couple of pills and
just shut my brain down for the night. You could
always have a drink. One wouldn't hurt. No, I don't
want to. I need my edge what there is of it?
You sure? Yeah, I'm sure. She opened the bedroom door.
Good night, and thanks for being here, Anna, no worries,
Now get some good night. Claire went into her room
and closed the door. She was happy to have been
wrong about Anna mackay. While she may have a tendency
to laugh along with her male colleagues when they made
remarks that, in Claire's opinion, demeaned her, she was a
good person and seemed like a pretty sound police officer.
She was also better qualified to be in the OCU
than Claire was. Part of Claire wanted to be irked
by that, after all, she was the senior officer in
terms of rank and lengths of service, but another part,
the wiser part, was grateful for it. She sat on
her bed and turned on the bedside lamp. Then she
took Coleridge's gun from her pocket to inspect it more closely.
It was a lightweight, compact nine millimeters automatic. She jacked
the magazine. It held eight cartridges. On pulling back the slide,
she saw a ninth in the breach, fully loaded. Yet
it was hard to believe it was all she needed
to take down a vampire. Why hadn't they invented ultra
violet bullets or something. The momentary analysis of the idea
brought a smile to her face. Light in a bullet.
She shook her head and put the gun on the
bedside table with the handle towards her. She took off
her shoes and went to put her jacket in the wardrobe.
She was about to leave to go to the bathroom
when at the door she heard Anna Mackay speaking in
the other room. She was talking to someone, her voice
a little more than a whisper. Claire went out, and
as she passed the living room, she glanced aside to
see Mackay was on her mobile. MacKaye saw her and
acknowledged her with a nod. Claire gave her a cursory
smile and went onto the bathroom. She couldn't make out
what Mackay was saying. She had lowered her tone even
further since seeing Claire walk past in the hall. Not
that Claire had any interest in the conversation, she assured
herself as she was brushing her teeth it was none
of her business. To the sound of flushing toilet and
resonant clicking off of the corded light switch, Claire left
the bathroom. As she approached the living room, she almost
bumped into Mackay as she emerged into the hall, coffee
mug in hand. Oh, Mackay exclaimed, Christ, Sorry, I think
you're in the bathroom. Just kind of make myself another cup.
Before Claire could say anything, she added, Oh, that was
my boyfriend on the phone. I forgot to ring him
and tell him I wouldn't be home tonight, so he
was pretty pissed off. Everything's all right, I hope. Oh yeah,
I just told him I've been put on stakeout and
not to expect me back to some time in the morning,
assuming I am back in the morning. Who knows with
this case, I guess vampire cases make for pretty crazy hours, yeah,
Claire said with a grin. Before we know, it will
all be nocturnal anyway, good night again, as she said
she would, Claire left her bedroom door slightly ajar, so
Mackay could hear if her phone rang, and also so
she could hear if Mackay should call out a warning.
She changed into her nightclothes and got into bed, Settling down,
turned out the light. From the dim light that shone
through the slightly open doorway, she could still make out
the matt black metal of Coleridge's gun. With that reassurance
in mind, she closed her eyes and waited for sleep
to come. Someone speaking a dream, no, a real voice.
Claire's eyes opened. She was lying on her side, facing
away from the door. The glowing led of the clock
on the opposite bedside table showed the time as two thirteen.
She turned her head and listened. The voice came again.
It was Mackay. Of course, it was Anna. Mackay was
in the sitting room. She was guarding her. Claire sighed
and felt the sudden tension leave her. Then Mackay spoke again,
the same low voice she had used earlier when she
was on the phone to her boyfriend. There was no
urgency or alarm in her voice, so it was probably
him again. Claire closed her eyes. She had no sense
of having fallen asleep. Her awareness was a wash of
memories blurring into one another, swimming in and out of
focus as her mind ground over questions, speculations, and possibilities.
Most vivid among them the crime scene at Hobin, Guy
Valentine and his men lying dead in their terrible tableaux,
the bullet holes in their heads staring at her like
gaping black third eyes. It was into that scene that
her mind now began to submerge itself once again, the
waters of sleep washing over her thoughts and swirling them
into the beginnings of a dream. Claire Redmond opened her eyes.
Her voice close by. Had she imagined it was it
Guy Valentine speaking in her dream? No, it wasn't his voice.
She was still lying on her side, facing away from
the door. Suddenly she was wide awake. There was someone
in the room with her. She didn't know how she
knew that, maybe some primitive animal part of her just
knew instinctively. But she was absolutely sure she was not alone,
and she was sure of something else. The voice hadn't
been Anna Mackay's. Claire knew her best chance was to
feign ignorance, to maintain the illusion that she was still
in a light sleep. She closed her eyes and inhaled softly,
rolling onto her back and stretching out her arms as
if stirring from slumber. The back of her hand came
down on the night table. She brushed her fingers over
the surface in what would appear an unconscious movement but
was in fact a search for the grip of the gun.
But she found nothing. She moved her fingers back in
a knot so conveyingly unconscious move reaching out till they
touched the bedside lamp. There was no mistake. The gun
was gone. She opened her eyes. There was a man
standing beside her bed, his shape silhouetted against the light
from the open doorway. He raised an arm and then
turned his hand so the gun too was in silhouette.
With a low chuckle, he said, oh cheeka. Claire pushed
herself up on her elbows and shouted Allah. And in
the second before the man's hand came down over her mouth,
she saw Anna mackay step forward into the doorway. Then
the man sat on the bed, leaning over her, his
body pressing down on hers. Oh no, no one else, miamore,
this is gonna be just you and me. Claire tried
to scream, but his hand comp lately covered her mouth,
so her cry came out through her nose, muted and futile.
Look at me, Claire, look into my eyes, and then
she knew the man upon her was not human. She
looked away, averting her eyes back to the door. Anna
Mackay stood in the hallway, looking into the room, her
face impassive, her eyes uninterested. She's fascinated, thought Claire. He
got her just as Lydia got me so much a
fucking falcon Bridge training. There was no point hoping to
rouse her, to wake her from the spell. Mackay may
as well have been on the moon. Claire screamed through
her nose again. One of her arms was pinned under
the douve, but the other was free. She lashed out
with a fist, but the vampire anticipated it, blocking the
blow and catching her by the wrist. No, no, no, no, foreplay.
He pushed her arm down to the bed. Come on,
move over for Miclaire. He brought his face close to hers,
his breath rank with a coppery tang of dead blood.
As he breathed in her face. The nade outside it
turned me to the bone.
Speaker 2: But you, mi amoor, you are so very warm.
Speaker 1: No prizes for guessing the identity of this visitor. Listeners,
he's possibly mad, definitely bad, and most assuredly dangerous to know. Oh,
and he's in Claire's bedroom. I do love it when
plot threads start to pull together. It's a sure sign
that we're entering the endgame. So join me next time
for season six, episode two of Underwood and Flinch. The
music you're listening to is Ahmad Ahma by Faried Va
Jarred courtesy of Taronnay Records and our good friend fah
Was al Malud. You can download the track from iTunes
or Amazon, or stream it from Spotify. So there we are,
my friends, under Wooden Flinch, season six, episode one, and
oh my god, I would not like to be Claire
Redmond right now. Things are looking very very bad, indeed,
aren't they now? I obviously can't say whether this is
going to be her end or not, but oh gad,
what a tight spot. I do hope you enjoyed it.
And yes, I know no one likes being cliffhangered, but
as cliffhangers go, I think you'll agree. It's a doozy,
isn't it? And so I leave you hanging on that
proverbial cliff until this time next month, when our story
can use in the one hundredth episode of the Underwood
and Flinch Saga. But from me for now, until the
moon rises again, over Underwooden Flinch, take care and farewell.