A mile away, on the road into Bonnyrig, two more E-Branch operatives sat in their car, waiting. They had small talents of their own but weren’t telepaths; neither one of them had Ben Trask’s experience, or Paxton’s ‘zeal’. But if it became necessary, certainly they would be able to do whatever must be done. Their car was equipped with a radio, tuned in on London HQ. At the moment their job was simply to relay messages, and act as back-up for the men up front. If Trask or Paxton called them, they could pick them up in little more than a minute. Which at least gave the men on the river bank a feeling of security; Paxton a little less than Trask, for he had been here before.
‘Well?’ Trask whispered now, taking the telepath’s elbow. ‘Is he in there or isn’t he?’
Standing close to the very spot where Harry Keogh had tossed him into the river, Paxton was nervous. The Necroscope had warned him that next time . . . that there had better not be a next time. And now that time was here; and Trask’s hand still gripped Paxton’s arm just above the elbow. ‘I don’t know.’ The telepath shook his head. ‘But the house is tainted, for sure. Can’t you feel it?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Trask nodded in the dark. ‘Just looking at it, I can see it’s not right. What about the girl?’
‘An hour ago she was here, definitely,’ the other answered. ‘Her thoughts were clouded – mind-smog, yes – but readable to a degree. She’s in thrall to him, no doubt about it. I thought Keogh was here, too – in fact I was sure he was, briefly – but now . . .’ He shrugged. ‘Telepathy with vampires is a very tricky business. To see without being seen, and to hear without being heard.’
Before Trask could answer him or make further comment, a tiny red light began to flash on his pocket walkie-talkie. He extended the aerial and depressed the incoming-call button. There sounded the customary wash of background static, and then the quiet, faintly tinny voice of Guy Teale, saying: ‘Car here. How do you read me?’
‘OK,’ Trask answered him, soft and low. ‘What’s up?’
‘We’ve had a call from HQ,’ Teale came back. ‘We’re to move to final strike locations now, situate ourselves, from there on in maintain radio and ESP silence, and wait for the word.’
Trask frowned and said: ‘We can ready ourselves, sure, but how will we be able to strike if our target isn’t here? Ask HQ that, will you?’
Without pause Teale came back: ‘HQ says that in the event there’s no one in the house when they give the word, we remain in situ, stay alert and wait to see what happens.’
Trask’s frown deepened. ‘Ask them to repeat that, will you? With some of the blanks filled in?’
‘I already did.’ Teale’s sigh was clearly audible. ‘Before I even called you. As far as HQ knows, Keogh has the Sanderson girl with him, and he and she are on to the serial killer. Likewise we have people on Keogh and Found – within limits, that is – and also people on Trevor Jordan, on a night train bound for London. So, we’ll let Keogh and/or the police settle with Found, then move on the Necroscope, the girl, and Jordan simultaneously, wherever they are at that time.’
Trask nodded. ‘So if our people don’t get Harry at their end – and if he escapes back here – we’ll be waiting for him, right?’
‘That’s how I see it,’ Teale answered.
Trask nodded. ‘OK, secure the car and come on in on foot. Meet us at the old bridge, ready to cross in … ten minutes’ time. Then we’ll reorganize, split into two pairs and choose vantage points at the front and rear of the house. That’s all for now. Be seeing you.’
He pressed the off button.
Paxton, nervously scanning all about in the darkness under the trees, said, ‘Do you think Teale and Robinson will be OK working together? I mean, I’m sure we’ll be fine together, but they don’t strike me as having a hell of a lot of candlepower between them!’