‘Strangely,’ Krakovitch nodded, ‘neither do I!’
Nothing more was said until they reached Chernovtsy. .
Chapter Fifteen
Back in London at INTESP HO, Guy Roberts and Ken Layard had traced Alec Kyle, Carl Quint and Yulian Bodescu. The Devon-based team of espers had travelled back to the capital by train, leaving Ben Trask to mend in the Torquay hospital. Having used the journey to catch up on some sleep, they’d got into HO just before midnight. Layard had roughly ‘located’ the three figures in question, and Roberts had attempted to scry their whereabouts a little more precisely. Desperation had seemingly honed their talents and the familiarity of their surroundings had helped them to get results — of a sort.
Now Roberts held a briefing: in attendance were Layard, John Grieve, Harvey Newton, Trevor Jordan, and three others who were permanent members of the HO’s staff. Roberts was red-eyed, unshaven and itchy; his breath reeked of an endless chain of cigarettes. He glanced around the table and nodded to each man in turn, then got straight into it.
‘We’ve been trimmed back a bit,’ he said, untypically phlegmatic. ‘Kyle and Quint are out of it, perhaps permanently; Trask is banged up a bit; Darcy Clarke’s up north, and. . . and then there’s poor Simon Gower. And the result of our outing? Our job isn’t only that much harder, it’s that much more important! Yes, and we’ve less men to do it. We could certainly use Harry Keogh now — but Alec Kyle was Keogh’s main man, and Alec’s not here. And as well as the danger we know exists — out there, loose — there’s now a second problem which could be just as big. Namely, the espers of the Soviet E-Branch have got Kyle on ice at the Château Bronnitsy.’
This was news to everyone except Layard. Lips tightened and heartbeats stepped up. Ken Layard took up the briefing. ‘We’re pretty sure he’s there,’ he said. ‘I located him — I think — but only with the greatest difficulty. They’ve got espers blocking everything in there, far more concentrated than we’ve ever known it before. The place is a mental miasma!’
‘That’s a fact,’ Roberts nodded. ‘I tried to pin-point him, get a picture of him — and failed miserably! Just a general mind-smog. Which doesn’t bode at all well for Alec. If his being there was all above board, they’d have nothing to hide. Also, he’s not supposed to be there at all but here. My guess is, they’ll be milking him for all he’s worth. And for all we’re worth. If I’m cold-blooded about it, believe me it’s only to save time.’
‘What about Carl Quint?’ John Grieve put the question. ‘How’s he faring?’
‘Carl’s where he should be,’ Layard said. ‘Near as I can make out, in a place called Chernovtsy under the Carpathians. Whether he’s there willingly is another matter.’
‘But we think willingly,’ Roberts added. ‘I’ve managed to reach and see him, however briefly, and I think he’s with Krakovitch. Which only serves to confuse things further. If Krakovitch is straight up, then why is Kyle in trouble?’
‘And Bodescu?’ Newton asked. He now felt he had a personal vendetta with the vampire.
‘That bastard is heading north,’ Roberts grimly answered. ‘It could be coincidence, but we don’t think so. Ultimately, we think he’s after the Keogh child. He knows everything, knows the guiding force behind our organisation. Bodescu has been hit, and now he wants to hit back. The one mind in this entire world which is an authority on vampires — particularly Yulian Bodescu — is housed in that child. That has to be his target.’
‘We don’t know how he’s travelling,’ Layard carried on. ‘Public transport? Could be. He could even be thumbing lifts! But he’s certainly not in any sort of hurry. He’s just taking it easy, taking his time. He got into Birmingham an hour ago, since when he’s been static. We think he’s put up for the night. But it’s the same story as before:
he exudes this mental swamp. That’s what it’s like:
groping around in the heart of a foggy swamp; You can’t pinpoint him at all, but you know there’s a crocodile in there somewhere. At the moment, Birmingham is the centre of it . .