Speaker 1: Hello listeners, and welcome back to Underwood and Flinch. So,
at the time of my podcasting this episode, anyone who
listens to the podcast at Spotify will know that I've
had a bit of a bad time lately with the
platform not only blocking my last episode, but also going
on to block me from sharing any more episodes to
the platform. And I didn't even know why. They didn't
contact me, they just blocked me. So I did some
digging into the matter, and I found out from my
podcast host that the problem was caused by a third
party copyright dispute relating to my use of the music
amad Armor by Faried far Jard, which has been the
Underwood in Flinch theme tune since the show's first episode
back in January two thousand and nine. I was able
to use the track then, you see, because the record
company Taranay Records made it available for podcast use via
a site called ioda promo Net, which was one of
a few sites dedicated to providing record companies with the
means to promote their mute music on the exciting new
medium of podcasting and podcasters like me with a source
of music that we could play on our shows without
fear of any legal bother. However, that all went out
the window when iowed a promo net ceased to exist
in twenty thirteen, and as soon as I copped onto that,
I stopped using Amadama. I told my then audience that
I couldn't use it anymore and that Underwood and Flinch
was going to go musicless, which was not met with
you know much enthusiasm, I can tell you. But into
the breach stepped listener and patron pahwas al Mulud, who
negotiated with Taranay Records on my behalf and secured for
me the rights to use the song on the Underwooden
Finch podcast. And that got us another ten years of Amadama,
which was nice. So a big cheer for fawas please.
But now it seems that era has come to an
end because record companies registered their music with companies like
Spotify and YouTube and whatnot as being protected by their copyright,
and now Spotify has started automatically detecting copyrighted music as
soon as it appears in a podcast on their platform
and blocks it. Ah says you, this is simple. Why
don't you just explain the situation to them? Mike, Well,
I did, and that is how I was able to
get episode eight restore and back in your ears again.
But the problem is, as the customer service agent at
Spotify confirmed to me, this is going to happen again
every single time I post a podcast with the music
on it. Therefore, I would have to contest every single
episode each and every time I posted one from now on,
and not just with Spotify. This technology is being rolled
out with all the streamers. YouTube has it, Apple podcasts
will have it next, and one by one all the
others will have it soon after. So that's it. We
had a good run. But this time it really is
all over. Amadama has gone. I know it's a sad day,
but never mind. Ay, I'm not going completely musicless. That
sounds kind of empty in my opinion, So instead I'm
using a royalty free tune by composer Kevin McLeod. It
has a completely different vibe to Amadama and so it
may take you a while to get used to it,
but I like it. It has a touch of the
sinister about it and menace too. And if there's one
thing a vampire podcast can only benefit from, it's a
little extra sinister and menace in the mix. I hope
you like it. And finally, last thing, this is a
very long episode and so as you know, in these situations,
I have to include ad breaks. If you don't like them,
just skip them. And now here's the original Patreon recap
which I refer to episode forty six, which in the
free podcast. Here is the first episode of this season,
season six. Let's rewind, and so for our catch up
this time, I have to remind you of quite a lot.
For the second scene you're going to hear, we return
to the bedroom of Claire Redmond, where as you may
recall from the end of episode forty six, she awoke
to find an unwelcome visitor in the shape of mcguel
looming over her bed. Claire was supposed to be under
the protection of DC Anna mackay, but it seems for
all Mackay's OCU training, Miguel has managed to fascinate her,
leaving Claire completely at his mercy. Now, back in episode
forty six, we didn't know what Miguel was even doing
in Claire's room, but thanks to the episode since then,
we now do.
Speaker 2: Remember.
Speaker 1: Last time Lydia phoned him from where she is now
in the presence of the mysterious Master Vampire and told
him that he had to go round and kill Redmond.
She gave him the details and also the number of
a contact who could help him achieve his mission, and
that is how in episode forty six Miguel came to
be there. But before we returned to Claire's dilemma, we
have a completely different destination to begin our story. Today,
we begin the podcast with the scene that takes us
all the way back to season three, episode two and
what happened in David's Brighton Flat after he and Elizabeth
Daventry had left to go to the offices of Daventry
and Western London. Do you remember when Elizabeth arrived in
response to David's call for help after the horrific death
of Lisa. She came with two sect clean up men,
Busby and Hollis. When we last saw these two, they
were getting ready to do what they do and when
we left them, you, like me, probably thought we'd never
see them again. But once again, thanks to recent events,
a return visit is required as we roll back the
hands of the clock to take us back almost to
our beginning of Underwood and Flinch season six in Tenebris
written and performed for podcast by Mike Bantt.
Speaker 3: This podcast is intended for an adult audience listener Discretion
has advised Episode nine.
Speaker 1: It was a few hours after David and Elizabeth Daventry
had left Busby and Hollis to do the clean up
operation in David's flat that the police arrived. The remains
of Lisa's body had been removed. The body was always
the first thing Busby and Hollis dealt with. They had
dismembered her and Busby had taken her remains out in
the large suitcase along with the blood soaked rug David
had rolled her up in, then taking her to a
funeral home in Seaford owned by a Sect associate who
had promptly attended to finishing the cremation that the sun
had started earlier. Also incinerated were any belongings of hers
they had found and any perishable foods they had found
in the fridge. Hollis had remained in the flat to
oversee the work of the team of painters and decorators
they worked with. The owner of the firm wasn't secked.
He was a former convicted criminal whom Hollis knew from
his time in prison. The decorator would always make a
team available for Hollis because he paid well above the
normal rate due to the discretion his jobs required. The team,
who were all Polish men with varying degrees of English,
had driven down to Brighton and had been waiting over
a long brunch at a cafe not far from David's flat.
When Hollis had called them to come up. They worked quickly,
and by the time the door buzzer rang, they had
taken out and replaced all the fire damaged floorboards, cleaned
the soot off the walls and ceiling, and were hard
at work giving the whole living room a new coat
of paint. When the buzzer rang, Hollis had assumed it
was Buzzby, back from the funeral home. He must have
forgotten to take the door key. He pressed a button
on the intercom. Yeah please, an unfamiliar male voice replied,
can we have a word please. Hollis released the button
as if it had emitted an electric shock.
Speaker 2: Shit.
Speaker 1: He and Busby had a cover story work in the
event that anything like this might occur. However, it hinged
upon their being perceived as polish. Had he messed that
up by answering in English? He decided he hadn't. If
he had answered with a complex sentence, then maybe, but
he'd only said yeah. He ran back into the living
room and called to the boss of the decorator team,
who was also the most capable English speaker, Jannik Danik,
a man in his mid forties who looks like he
could crush walnuts between his flexed biceps and forearms, turned
at his name, Y's. Jim Hollis beckoned him over and
steered him into the hall. The police are outside. I
need you to speak to them on the intercom, just
like we discussed that time before. Remember, no problem, Danik nodded.
Just remember to make sure your English sounds terrible. Danik laughed,
ha ha for this, I don't have to pretend too much. No,
I mean it's really bad, so bad you can hardly
understand them. Okay, Okay, no problem, Danik pointed to the
intercon No. Hollis nodded, Yeah, I'll listen to them and
tell you what to say and reply. Start by asking
what they want. Okay, Danik pushed the button. Hey, ah,
what do you want? Can we come in, please, sir.
Hollis indicated Danik to remove his finger from the buzzer.
He did so, children, they can't the place is being decorated.
Danik nodded and pressed the button. Uh no, it is
bad time. We paint flats, very mess. He smiled at Hollis,
who nodded at him his face anxious, Sir, this is
a very important matter. I'm afraid we have to insist,
but it's impossible. You want to come down, No, sir,
we need to come up. We have a warrant here
to search the premises, so I must warn you. If
you don't let us in, you'll leave us no choice
but to break down the door. Holly winced, as if
he had stepped on attack. Danik removed his finger from
the buzzer. What do you want they do? We'll just
have to let them in, okay, like we discussed. I'm
just one of you guys, all right, and you're in charge.
Be friendly, but be useless. Danik nodded, So I let
them in now, yeah, but give me a chance to
get in there and join the lads. Hollis hurried into
the sun filled living room. He sniffed the air for
any lingering trace of fire damage. The burnt wood and
furnishings had been bagged up and removed to the decorator's van,
and now all he could smell was wet paint, freshened
by the sea breeze that blew in through the wide
open windows. He nodded to Danik. Okay. Danik pressed the
intercom button. Okay, you come up now, but everywhere is
a wet paint. You must to be careful, Thank you, sir.
He buzzed them up and opened the door to the flat.
He stuck his head out into the hall and listened
in the closed space. The sounds from far below resonated clearly, voices,
all male, at least two of them. He left the
door ajar and went back into the living room. He
nodded to Hollis. Hollis was already wearing the same kind
of white coveralls as the decorators from when he had
been dismembering Lisa's corpse, but rather than being spotted with
dew luxe, his were spattered and smeared with dried blood.
He plunged a latex gloved hand into an open can
of magnolia paint, scooped some out and daubed it all
over the bloodstains. He dabbed splotches onto his face and hair,
then ripped off the gloves and shoved them into his pocket,
making sure he got paint on his hands in the process.
As Hollis was doing this, Danek was firing off a
quick explanation of the impending situation to his team in Polish.
They knew the drill. They made their various replies, and
then each of them nodded or gave the thumbs up
to hold one of them. A blond man in his
twenties said, don't worry, be happy, and handed Hollis a
paint roller. Hollis managed a weary smile, took the roller
and went to work painting the wall just as Danik
turned at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the top
of the stairs outside. There were two of them. They
walked in through the front door and joined Danik at
the doorway to the living room. Hollis glanced over his
shoulder to look at them. Their suits announced them as
detectives even before they held up their IDs to Danik
to prove as much. Good afternoon, zir, thanks for letting
us in my name's d Z Hallam, and this is
d C. Crook. Danik smiled and pointed to himself. Hi, Danik.
The two policemen looked at one another. Then Hallam said,
is the homeowner? Answer? Danik cocked his head to one
side and squinted. Home owner is, sir, the person who
owns the home. Sir, the man who lives here? Ah.
Danik nodded, smiling as though delighted to have understood.
Speaker 2: Man who lives here?
Speaker 1: I know you know what, sir?
Speaker 2: No, I know the man who lives here?
Speaker 1: He not here? Okay, so where is he?
Speaker 2: He is to Spain?
Speaker 1: The policeman exchanged another look. Hallam took out his notebook
and pencil and made a note. He's in Spain. Do
you know where in Spain? No, I mean where in Spain?
What place Spain? Hallem rolled his eyes. Oh, for Christ.
He turned to address the rest of the decorators. Do
any of you speak English? The workmen all stopped work
and looked over with blank expressions. Hallum stood with his
hands on his hips, and Hollis noticed the shoulder holstered
gun in the shadows of his jacket. English repeated Hallum,
Big English said Danik Hallum sighed resignedly, and turned back
to him. All right, then whereabouts in Spain? Is he gone?
I mean, what city? What town? Danik shrugged, HINGO say
the second policeman. Krook said, so, if the owner's in Spain,
who are you in? Danik squinted in feigned confusion. What
is raising his voice and speaking slowly as if Danik
were hard of hearing. Krook reiterated, how did you get
into the flat this morning? You know you inside? I
am inside? Danik nodded, eavesdropping as he worked. Hollis set
his jaw suppressing a smile. Shit, said Crook, this is
fucking pointless. We need to get someone who can speak
the fucking LINGO to Danik, he said, where are you from,
matek pointed to himself. I Yeahhi from Poland. We all
from Poland, right. Krook turned back to Halen. We need
a Polish speaker. Not going to happen, mate, You know that,
said Halen. We'd have more luck using a phrase book.
Let's just crack on. Krook rolled his eyes. All right,
but if you ask me, this is all starting to
look like a wild goose chase. Maybe, but you never know.
He turned to Danik. Look, Danik, we need to look
around the flat. Yeah, understand me. You want to look
at flat, asked Danak. Yeah, we police, we need to
search flat. Search, Yeah, said Krook. He made a V
with his fingers and held them in front of his eyes. Said,
the fingers pointed outward, miming the act of looking look around.
Danik nodded and extended a hand invitingly into the living room,
where the furniture and floor were covered by white protective
sheoting yes, please, it's okay, but paint is bad. Yes, yeah, yeah,
said Harlem. Don't worry, we won't touch your paint. He
nodded to Crook, go on Rich, then to Danik, who
is the owner? I mean, who is man who lives here?
Man in Spain? Yeah, man in Spain. What's his name?
He stood with pencil poised to pad his name. Yeah.
Danik held up a finger. Wait please. He went out
into the hall and came back a moment later with
some received male almost all white windowed envelopes. He handed
them to Hallam. Hallam read the name in the address
window of the top one, mister David Smith. He turned
to Crook, and raised his eyebrows. Crook, who was going
through a cupboard, snorted and said, I told you it's
a wild goose chase. Mate. Well, while goose chase or not,
we've got to do our job before we can fuck
off back to London. Hallam checked the addresseee on the
other envelopes and saw they were all addressed to David Smith.
This casual and unguarded exchange between the two men was
a result of their believing no one else in the
room could understand them. This suited Hollis down to the ground.
What he wondered were two London detectives doing all the
way down here in Brighton with a search warrant for
David Flinch's flat. He'd have to contact Elizabeth Daventry as
soon as they were gone, which he did when they
left about an hour later, having found nothing and with
both still grumbling about wild goose chases. This podcast continues
after the break Welcome back a new chapter, as yet unnumbered.
The following action takes place approximately thirteen hours later. Miguel
has spent much of that time sleeping in an underpass
by Brighton Beach, but now having been chauffeured around to
Claire Redmond's flat by Johnny the taxi driver. He's ready
to fulfill his latest mission. Softly, Miguel pushed open the
bedroom door. He closed his eyes and scented the air.
Perfume lightly fragranced creams and lotions, clothes, both recently laundered
and mortantilizingly worn, lying in the laundry basket in the corner.
But best of all was the warm scent of the
sleeping woman herself. She lay in the bed, her back
turned to him. Was she pretty? He hoped so, but
it didn't matter. He walked to the bed, his feet
silent on the carpet. He saw her gun on the
bedside table and picked it up. He inspected it briefly,
then lowered it to his side. Her breathing was soft
and slow, and again he closed his eyes, this time
to focus on and savor the sound. It would be
so easy to just take her in her sleep, But
where would be the fun in that? Claire she awoke,
though she didn't move a muscle. He noticed a break
in the rhythm of her breath, and then a subtle
change in her scent. He had smelt it before, carried
in the sweat secretions of un fortunates like Lisa. When
he woke her from fascination to make the call to David,
it was the smell of fear. He watched her in
hail and roll onto her back, stretching out her arms.
The back of her left hand came down on the
bedside table where she had left her gun. He smiled
as her casual brushing of the table faltered on not
finding it. Her hand then moved around a wider area,
clearly searching. She opened her eyes with a light from
the open door behind him. He knew he stood in
silhouette to her. He raised his hand to lift the
gun into view and chuckled when she recognized it al Cheeka. Immediately,
she pushed herself up onto her elbows and shouted Anna.
Miguel lunged with his free hand, jamming it over her
mouth and forcing her down to the bed, as his
other hand slipped the pistol into the pocket of his
light windbreaker jacket. Then he fell on her, trapping one
of her arms under the douve and then trying to
catch the other as it thrashed in the air, trying
to both avoid capture and strike him at the same time,
he caught it just above the elbow and forced it
down to the side of the bed. Oh no, no
one else, Miamore, this is gonna be just you and me.
He said this, though he knew they were not alone.
The other policewoman was just outside in the hall. Claire
screamed against his hand, and he thrilled to the resonation
as it ran up his arm and into his neck.
Such a pity he had to keep it quiet. No
one outside the room would have heard the muffled scream,
but for safety's sake, he would have to fascinate her.
Look at me, Claire, look into my eyes. She turned
her head away, and her eyes widened as she saw
something behind him. Miguel noticed the scent of the other
woman was stronger she had entered the room. Hope flared
in Claire's eyes, but then flickered and died as she
realized the woman wasn't going to be any help to her.
Miguel grinned as she screamed against his hand again. Much
as he would have liked to have toyed with her
for longer, time was not a luxury he was permitted.
He let go of her arm and reached for her
chin to force her face to his. Immediately, she tried
to hit him, but as her fist neared his head
without even turning to see it, he caught her by
the wrist. He had known the blow was coming, known
the trajectory and speed, and had been able to block
it without conscious thought. That was new for him, and
he liked it. No, no, no, no, foreplay. He effortlessly
forced her arm down to the bed. Come on, move
over for me, Claire. He leaned in to savor her sweet,
terrified fragrance. The nide outside it juled me to the bone.
Speaker 2: But you, mi amore, you are so very warm.
Speaker 1: Oh, for Fox's sake, get on with it, said Anna Mackay.
Who you think you are? Cassa bloodying nova. Both Miguel
and Redmond paused in their struggle. Claire thought she must
have misheard. Her eyes flicked to where Mackay now turned
on the bedroom light. But she hadn't done it at
his order. She had acted of her own volition. She
wasn't fascinated. What do you think you're doing? Mcgirl snapped,
turning his face to Mackay with teeth bared. Get out
of here, I don't think so, Senor, said Mackay, I
was warned about you. You've already gone and got yourself
a bad reputation with the master, which believed me, is
the last thing you want to do. So you want
to do yourself a favor, Just killer and fuck off
so I can call him the backup. What migirl was
so taken aback that he almost let go of Redmond?
What do you mean that good? Bad? The reputation?
Speaker 2: Your master doesn't even know me.
Speaker 1: Claire felt the pressure on her lesson as mcgirl shifted
his weight. He doesn't need to know you to know
all about you, said Mackay. You know that flat in
Brightware you claim to have turned some woman into a
vampire and left her as some kind of trap. Yeah,
but how do you know about that? A little told us, mate,
So we sent two men down to check it out
this morning, and guess what, there was nothing there? You what?
Miguel shifted again, and the weight of the gun in
his jacket pocket caused it to slip down and knock
against Claire's hand. Nothing there, That's impossible that I left
a drug then tied to a chair.
Speaker 2: She was a vampire.
Speaker 1: Jesus there was blood everywhere. He shook his head in
adamant denial. No, no, your people must have got the
wrong flat. Yeah, course, stated Either that, or you're telling
Porky's porkis what is porkis porky pies lies. You've been
bullshitting a savare quite how pork pies equated to lies
was unfathomable to Miguel, but he didn't linger on the problem.
I did not pullshit you. I didn't even speak to
be fucking police.
Speaker 2: How do you find out about this?
Speaker 1: Don't ask me, mate, it's above my pay grade. All
I know is what I heard. And that's when our
lads went down to Brighton. All they found was a
bunch of Polish decorators doing the place up, but there
was no girl and no vampires.
Speaker 4: Decorators would that say? No, two were cleaning up the mess.
The vampires must have escaped and then they they called
in the decorators.
Speaker 2: Yeah, or someone else did.
Speaker 1: Claire was listening, taking mental notes, while at the same
time her fingers were working their way gingerly into the
girl's jacket pocket. Yeah, that's right, said mackay. It's the
latest option. When you're down nine ninety nine in it.
Which service did you require police, fire, ambulance or decorators?
She smirked. No, our people checked high and low. There
was nothing there to verify your story. But then you
got the wrong apartment, puddha, that'll be fooled you. Oh
the way your people fucked up, And now David is free.
Claire now had her fingers around the handle of the gun.
Every time Miguel spoke, he moved, and with every move
he made, she inched the gun a little further out.
David flinch Yeah, how do? He was going to ask
how she knew? But he had a pretty good idea. Now,
Lydia must have related his story to their master, and
he in turn had instructed some corrupt police officers to investigate.
It made sense Underwood sect was made up of such people.
It stood to reason that this master character would have
his own sack of rotten apples to do his bidding too.
Mackay shook her head. No such person at that address.
Speaker 2: So I am right, this is the wrong address.
Speaker 1: Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, mate. Look, if they
had the right address, they would have found him and
the woman, not a bunch of fucking Miguel felt his
jacket snag on some thing where there was nothing for
it to snag upon. He looked down and saw Redman's
hand in his pocket. Then he looked at her face,
and for a split second he made eye contact. Then
the gun fired. Claire almost had the gun clear of
his pocket, but at the last second she felt it
catch upon the zippard opening gently. She moved it back inside,
turned it slightly, and tried again, but again it snagged.
It was her angle. She was too low, and the
gun's tang, the jutting rear protrusion between the slide and
the grip, was working like a hook. She was holding
the gun pinched delicately between finger and thumb. She needed
more control, a better hold on it, even if it
meant pushing her whole hand into the pocket. Very slowly,
she eased her hand inside and curled her fingers around
the grip. Then she withdrew the gun until again the
tang snagged at the opening. In her mind, she screamed
in frustration. This wasn't going to work. She had to
be more forceful, even if it was just a little.
So she tugged at it, and that was when Miguel
stopped talking. She glanced up. He was looking down at
her intruding hand with interest. For a second, the world
stood still. Then his eyes were upon hers. She hadn't
meant to pull the trigger, but it was as if
her whole body clenched to recoil from his gaze, including
her trigger finger. The gun fired, the recoil blasting both
it and her hand clear of his now smoking pocket,
and then he screamed. At first, Adam Mackay thought Miguel
had somehow managed to shoot himself, but then as he
fell from the bed with his hands between his legs,
she saw the gun in Redman's hand and it was
pointing at her. Claire threw back the douve, keeping the
gun steady on Mackay. As she did so, hands up, Hannah,
down on your knees from the floor. Miguel screamed at her,
You fucking bitch, you shot a fucking cog off. Claire
glanced down to see he was curled in a fetal position,
his hands clutching his groin as a bloom of blood
began to spread out from him into the carpet. She
looked back to Mackay. She was backing away, her hands
held out before her appeasingly. Claire, this isn't what it seems.
Her voice was frightened, but controlled, as if she were
trying to reason with an armed maniac. I'm undercover. We've
been working for a long time on this, getting closer
and closer to the ringleader, the one they called the Master. Please,
you've got to believe me. I'm not your enemy. Oh yeah,
but I didn't feel like that a moment ago. You
told him to fucking kill me. No, you've got it
all wrong. I was playing him. I was never gonna
let him actually hurt you.
Speaker 2: My garden.
Speaker 1: It's tucked into my waistband behind my back. I was
going to drop him the moment he bent to bite you,
But first I had to try to squeeze him info
out of him. We know so little about him and
how he got mixed up in this. I tried flattery
when he arrived, but that didn't get me anywhere. So
just now I was trying to wind him up and
it was working. You saw that, Oh yeah, I know
what I saw, all right, But hey, don't worry about it.
If what you're saying is true, then we can all
laugh about it later. Down at the station, can't we
But right now, you know the drill. Get your fucking
hands up and drop to your knees. My girl was
sobbing and muttering and Spanish.
Speaker 2: As Kloss got on.
Speaker 1: Claire glanced back at him and saw he had half
pulled down his trousers and underpants. He had his back
to her, but she could see he was doing something
with his hands in his lap. Then it sounded like
he was spitting. If she hadn't known better, she might
have thought he was pleasuring himself. Who is he, she asked, mackay,
he's the London vampire, or one of them. Anyway, there's
two of them, possibly more, We don't know. That's what
wanted to find out from him before you shot him
in the dinner money. But listen, it's too late for that.
Now you need to finish him off. The neighbors will
have called nine ninety nine by now, and we'll have
uniforms here in no time.
Speaker 2: And once they are here, they're.
Speaker 1: Not going to know what he is, are they, So
they're not going to let you gun him down in
cold blood. That means that he's going to get the
time he needs to recover. And if he does that
we're all dead. He what he recovers? What do you mean, Annah,
I just shut his penis off. You don't recover that ever? No,
I mean exactly what I said, he'll recover. She nodded
at Miguel.
Speaker 2: Listen to him.
Speaker 1: You obviously don't speak Spanish or you'd understand. But I
know a bit enough to know he's praying to God
to make his cock grow back. She scoffed. He's such
a bloody neophyt. He doesn't even know if it will
or not. But it will by this time tomorrow night.
Who he fully restored, But he could be back on
his feet long before that. And that's what you have
to kill him now. Coleridge must have told you how right? Yes,
But Claire looked at Miguel. The last thing he seemed
was dangerous. She shook her head. I don't understand. Why
why would Coleridge have put me into this position?
Speaker 2: What was I bait? Why would he not tell me
what was going on?
Speaker 1: I don't know, maybe because if he had, then you'd
have ad to have acted the part, pretended to be
asleep and well Courridge. But he didn't know how good
an actor you were. That would have made much difference.
The vampire would have known you were faking it from
the minute he walked inside. He would have smelt your
fear in the room and killed the pair of us
before I even got a chance to ask him his name,
let alone anything about the master Vampire. But who is
this master vampire? And why didn't Coleridge tell me about him?
I don't know, maybe because it's classified as top secret
and you aren't clear to know yet. You only joined
us today, didn't you. Yeah, and you've been fascinated by
the other vampire, haven't you the woman? Yes? But courridgely
programmed me yeah. But sometimes that's not enough. If the
woman had been the one that turned up tonight and
not Billy no dick here, she could have had you
back under her spelling a flash.
Speaker 2: It happens, Claire.
Speaker 1: Okay, But as Mackay had backed slowly away, Claire had
moved a few steps closer during this exchange, and now
she glanced back at Miguel. He was calmer, but still
weeping and muttering prayer in Spanish. Since she didn't come,
and he's not a problem at least for the moment.
You can tell me, can't you? Who is the master vampire.
Is he the one that made these other two? Actually?
Speaker 2: Claire?
Speaker 1: No, I'm sorry I can't tell you. As I said,
that's top secret. Holy Coleridge can bring you in on that.
But as for your second question, no, we don't think
he did make them. That's what I was trying to
get out of the old vampiro here before it all
went tits up. Claire sighed. Much as she didn't like
the fact that Coleridge had used her as live bait
without her knowledge, Mackay's explanation of his reasons for doing
so made a certain sense. Mackay raised her eyebrows questioningly. So,
can I put my hands down now? In a minute,
I need to take your gun, turn around, and then
you'll shoot him. Yeah, yeah, propose I'll have to. From
his curled ball of agony on the floor, Miguel had
been tuning in and out of what the women were saying.
Though it was hard to concentrate when the head of
your penis had been mashed by a bullet that had
then passed into and through your thigh. Despite the excruciating pain,
his mind was clear enough for him to have realized
that if he didn't do something to staunch, the blood
jetting out of him, he could lose consciousness, so he
had clenched his teeth, yanked down his jeans and underpants, and,
once he was passed the horror of seeing his decapitated manhood,
started spitting his saliva onto his fingers and applying it
to the spurting stump. The flowing blood had slowed and
quickly ceased as it coagulated into an oozing goo with
his saliva. He then turned his attention to his thigh
wounds when he heard the woman he had thought was
his ally tell Redmond to shoot him, and then Redmond
agree he had to play for time. Even a few
minutes might be enough for him to get back on
his feet. What he cried, Wait a minute, you believe
what she's saying, Claire, I have been listening and it's
old bullshit, bullshit. Redmond brought her gun to bear on him. No, no, Claire, wait, wait, wait,
you can't do this. You're the police officer. You don't
shoot people. Mackay lowered her hands. He doesn't count as people, Claire.
Speaker 2: I am fucking people.
Speaker 1: Migul shouted over his shoulder.
Speaker 2: I'm a fucking perison, just like you or anyone else.
Speaker 1: I doubt you were ever a person like anyone else,
Migal said Mackay. Miguel turned his eyes to Claire in
desperate appeal. She looked away and feared that he might
try to fascinate her, and turned back to Mackay to
see she was reaching behind her back. Wait, what are
you doing? Stop? I didn't say you could, but Mackay
didn't stop. Instead, she moved faster, pulling her gun from
her waistband and pivoting on her feet, so she was
sighed on to Claire and so a narrower target. Claire
had no time to think about what was happening. All
that was certain was that Mackay intended to shoot her.
MacKaye was fast, but Claire was faster. She got her
gun up just as Mackay was bringing hers to bear
and fired. Mackay toppled over backwards, her gun tumbling from
her hand to fall to the floor. Claire ran forward
and kicked it aside, away from Mackay, who was clutching
her side and writhing in pain. Keeping her weapon trained
on Mackay, Claire picked up the fallen gun. Now with
a gun in each hand, she positioned herself so she
could see both Miguel and Mackay and pointed a weapon
at each of them. All right, Mackay, what the fuck
is really going on? When saying, Mackay shook her head.
I think this is the bit where you remind me
of my right to a lawyer, Claire, fuck your right
to a lawyer.
Speaker 2: Tell me what's going on.
Speaker 1: I need an ambulance, Redmond. Miguel shrieked, you need the
fucking ambulance, bitch, please Okay. Then Claire moved to the
exact spot where she had been standing when she shot Mackay,
and then took aim at Mackay's head. Mackay frowned, what
are you doing lining up the shot I'm going to take?
If you don't start cooperating, once you're dead, I'll put
your gun back in your hand and I can plead
self defense. She wouldn't do that. You're too fucking straight. Oh,
I was, But the last twenty four hours or so
have bent me so out of shape I hardly recognized
myself anymore. So unless you want me to put you
out of our misery, you'd better start talking now. There
must be others in the force, working with you? Who
are they? Mackay shook her head. I have the right
to remain silent.
Speaker 2: Who tell me?
Speaker 1: Oh, fuck you, Redmond, I'd rather die. Mackay lowered her
head to rest on the floor and closed her eyes. Look,
an ambulance is already going to be on the way, Anna,
So for God's sake, please just tell me. She've got
nothing to lose anymore.
Speaker 2: It's over.
Speaker 1: Ha, Mackay cried. Over Jesus, you have no fucking idea,
do you. She turned her face to Claire, but didn't
raise her head. Her lips were now red with blood.
No idea, watch her up against and how pointless it
is to try and fight them. You know the best
thing you can do. You can do it is to
join them, to join us. What are you talking about?
You make it sound as if they're the bloody mafia.
But I only count one here, two with the woman Lydia,
and three with this master vampire of yours. Mackay laughed
with genuine amusement. Three. Oh yeah, I'd go over to
the fucking dark side for three of them. Oh, she
coughed and spat blood. Three of them betraying my family,
my friends, my whole fucking species, all for three pucksy vmpires.
So there's more of them. That's fucking thousands, you idiot,
all over the world.
Speaker 2: We are him and he is legion. What do you
mean we?
Speaker 1: Claire realized she hadn't actually seen Mackay in daylight for weeks.
You're not one of them, not yet, but I will
be come the rising, the rising?
Speaker 2: What's that?
Speaker 1: Then Claire noticed Mackay's eyes suddenly shift to something over
her shoulder. She turned. Miguel had risen to his feet.
He was naked from the waist down, blood soaked jeans
and underpants around his ankles, and one hand covering the
remains of his genitalia. His other hand lashed out and
knocked the gun she had been training loosely on him
from her hand. Claire tried to bring the other gun
around to bear on him, but he lunged for her,
losing his balance and toppling over, but catching her by
the night shirt and yanking her to him, so they
fell together to the floor. He landed on top of
her legs and screamed as his barely closed wounds burst
open again on impact. Claire still had the gun and
tried to aim it at him, but despite the agony
he must have been in, he caught her by the
wrist and shook it hard, forcing the weapon to fly
from her grip and land a meter or so away.
Then he grabbed her by the chin and twisted her
face to his Look at me, bitch, look at me.
Claire closed her eyes and drove her knee into his groin.
He screamed and released her. She punched with both hands
at his head, kicking and struggling to free her legs.
Miguel grabbed for her hands, trying to catch them to
stop the beating. He was furious, his eyes ablaze with hatred.
Speaker 2: Ah, you fucking bitch. I could have made this squeet waio.
Speaker 1: We could have had fun, but oh nah, you have
He broke off in a scream as both of her
hands slammed down over each of his ears simultaneously. He
abandoned the fight and rolled part way off her as
a pain in his head. To overwhelm the pain in
his groin, he barely noticed as Claire twisted her body
around so her stomach was to the floor and began
to drag herself across the carpet away from him weakly
through a mouthful of blood. Mackay cried, Miguel, stop her,
She's going for the Gunmgirl was lost in his agony,
but Mackay's warning brought him back to the room. He
opened his eyes and felt Redmond's feet almost out from
beneath him.
Speaker 2: No, no, you're not get away, bitch. I gonna fucking
tell your parp.
Speaker 1: He tried to get his hands around her legs to
pin them together at the knees. She kicked and struggled,
trying in turn to turn back around and get a
knee into his face. But then, finally, enrage and howling pain,
Miguel opened his mouth wide and bit down into the
bare flesh of her calf muscle. And then it was
Claire's turn to scream. Her blood flowed into his mouth,
and immediately he could feel it beginning to restore him.
Like a man in the desert dying of thirst who
finds water. A ravenous need to drink overcame him. He
sank his teeth deeper, sucking and gulping at the blood
that now gushed into his mouth. He didn't even notice
when the cold circle of metal pressed against the top
of his head. Miguel cried, Mackay. It was the last
thing he heard before the deafening blast of the gunshot
plunged the world into blackness. Ignoring the pain in her calf,
Claire pushed and kicked Miguel's body off of hers. He
rolled onto his back, a smoking hole in the top
of his head and the smell of singed hair and
harrowed brain matter filling the air. His eyes were closed,
but to her astonishment, she saw that under the lids
they continued to move, small, erratic movements, as if he
were experiencing rem sleep. His mouth was working like that
of a fish out of water, his tongue moving around,
and she realized that on some instinctive level, he was
still trying to consume the last of her blood still
in his mouth. Claire got to her feet and without hesitation,
aimed the gun at his heart and fired. His body convulsed,
He gasped, and then exhaled in a slow, ragged breath.
She fired again, and the breath stopped. Tempted as she
was to keep shooting into his head and heart till
the gun clicked empty, Claire knew she still had Mackay
to contend with. She turned, bringing the gun to bear
upon her, but mackay lay still, her head to one
side and her eyes staring sightlessly at Miguel. Claire went
over and felt her neck for a pulse. There was none.
She sighed and dropped to the floor beside the corpse.
She noticed then that the pain in her calf had lessened. No,
that wasn't accurate. It changed. It wasn't pain anymore. It
was a warm, tingling sensation that wasn't entirely unpleasant, but
unlike anything she had ever felt before. She rolled on
to her side and raised her wounded legs so she
could see the bite. Her legs were covered in Miguel's blood,
but she could see where his teethmarks stood out darkly
amidst the gore. And then, for the first time, it
hit her, Jesus Christ, I'm fucking bittered. Does that mean i'minfected?
Going to become a vampire like him?
Speaker 2: Isn't now? What happens? I don't know what does happen?
How does it spread?
Speaker 1: Then she noticed that the immediate surface area of the
wound appeared to be bubbling slightly, like someone had dabbed
some kind of acid onto it. Did that mean it
was okay that there was no infection or the opposite?
She didn't know. How could she have known? It wasn't
like Coleridge had instructed her in anything about dealing with
vampires other than how to shoot one. Coleridge. She needed
to speak to Coleridge. He would know what to do.
She got up and limped to her bed. She picked
up her phone and was about to call him when
the rhythmic pulse of a muted phone started somewhere on
Mackay's body. Claire put down her phone. Who could be
calling her at this hour? Her fiance She grimaced at
her own gullibility. Of course, there was no fiancee. Whoever
had called her earlier that evening was surely an accomplice,
and now, in all probability that accomplice was calling again
to see how their trap had turned out. She went
over and searched through Mackay's pockets for the phone, wondering
if she could imitate Mackay's voice if she decided to
answer the call. She found the phone, took it out
and looked at the caller's name on the screen. Collridge Coleridge.
What was he awakened calling Mackay. He should be in bed,
and if he was calling anyone, shouldn't it be her?
After all, she was the ranking officer. Then she realized
she was supposed to be asleep and Mackay was supposed
to be guarding her. Coleridge was probably just checking in
to see if everything was all right. She was about
to press answer when she hesitated. MacKaye had said there
were thousands of vampires out there. So again she asked herself,
why hadn't Coleridge said anything to her about it. Mackay
had said it was due to the matter being top secret,
But Mackay had tried to kill her. Could she trust
a single word of what she had said? She looked
at Coleridge's name on the glowing screen. Don't answer it,
said a voice in her mind. Just put the phone
back on Mackay and forget all about it. You can
call him on your own phone when he hangs up
and tell him what's happened. He'll be relieved to hear
from you, to know you're okay. Coleridge her father's partner,
her godfather, a man she had known and admired all
her life. That he could be a part of whatever
Mackay had been involved in didn't bear thinking about. But
she had to know why he was calling. She had to.
She pressed the button and put the phone to her ear. Then,
keeping her voice low, she answered, sir christ you took
your time. Mackay Hallimon Crook said, the vampire went up
about thirty minutes ago. I was just about to hang
up and tell them to go in, guns blazing. At first,
Claire couldn't speak, she couldn't even breathe, but then, in
a low voice, she replied, no, I'm okay, Well, how
did it go it? It's fine fine.
Speaker 2: What do you mean?
Speaker 1: Are they dead dead? Yes? Dead? Redmond and the vampire
are they fucking dead? Yeah? Dead dead. She heard him
heave a sigh. He was silent for a moment, then
said okay, so what about the crime scene? Was there
a struggle? Claire couldn't reply. She took the phone from
her ear, holding it away from herself as she clamped
her other hand over her knees and mouth to stifle
a sob breathe. She told herself, breathe through it and
answer him. Mackay Coleridge now sounded concerned, perhaps suspicious, Claire
put the phone back to her ear.
Speaker 2: Yeah, Anna, are you all right?
Speaker 1: Claire spoke in a harsh whisper, trying to keep the
timber of her voice as neutral as possible. Yeah, just
just a bit shook up, sir. It was. It was
harder than I thought it would be. Oh, yes, I'm
sure it was. But it's over now, Anna, and well done.
The Master's going to be very pleased with you. But listen,
I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to take Halen
and Crook off you. Something's come up and I need
them with me, So you'll have to deal with a
nine to nine to nine responders alone when they arrive.
Do you think you can handle it? Why? What's happened? Oh?
Nothing to worry about. But it's a pretty big deal.
I can tell you. I've managed to track down a
vampire that makes the one you just took care of
look like a tiddler, and I'm going to need all
the backup I can get. I wish that could include you,
but we need you there. Where Where are you, sir?
I'm at the strand sorry Street, just down the road
from the old old Witch Underground station. And who is
it you found? No one I'd heard of before, but
apparently he's one of the immortals. What Bob Jeffreys like
to call a vampire? O g oh my, Claire started,
before switching to a more authentic mackay like response, fucking hell,
what's his name? It's Underwood, Lord Daniel Underwood and Soul listeners.
It seems the Master Vampires set really is something to
rival Underwoods at. Then some there are thousands of vampires
all over the world and soon arising that would have
seen mackay join their numbers.
Speaker 5: The future suddenly looks decidedly darker in and beyond Underwood
and Flinch season six. The music you're listening to is
by Kevin McLeod, licensed under Creative Commons by Attributions.
Speaker 1: Three point zero license. For more information, visit incomptech dot com.