Vampire "Unseen" (Vampire "Untitled" Trilogy Book 2) (14 page)

“I met with them. The British are disturbed that it has taken so long to let them know how dangerous McGovern is, but now they know they’ve got some momentum.”

“That’s good, but... you didn’t... how did you explain what he can do?”

“I showed the photographs from Noua.”

“Pictures speak louder than words, I imagine.”

“They did.”

“So what is your plan of action?”

Latis paused for a moment and felt his eyes drift to the bourbon. “I’m probably going to Oxford tomorrow. McGovern has a small network of friends and acquaintances, some in London, most in Oxford or with Oxford connections. He went to university there.”

“He went to Oxford?” Noica’s eyebrows raised as he spoke.

“Does that mean something?”

“It means he’s gifted, academically speaking, if he went to Oxford he’s amongst the best and brightest. I thought he was a clever man but I didn’t realise how clever. Can you try and find out about his time there, his grades. I would be very interested to know how gifted he is.”

Latis nodded. “To be honest Lucian, I don’t have anything to tell you today that you didn’t know yesterday. I will be keeping in touch with Scotland Yard through Europol and they’ll keep me updated on their investigations. Like I told you before, I can’t really investigate here, at least not in any official capacity.”

“That’s fine, Cornel. I told you, this isn’t for a prosecution, but it’s vital we know who he is, that we know his mindset, his temperament, his character and abilities. Knowing he is academically gifted is a good discovery and we need as much detail like that as possible.”

----- X -----

Latis stepped from the train into cold sunshine and wet pavements. Oxford looked nice. Pretty old buildings and a sleepy, leafy sort of town he could imagine being pleasant to wander on a summer’s evening.

The university was split amongst campuses and it took time and a few taxi rides to figure out what Paul McGovern had done and how to find his old professors. The subject was English Literature, department of English at the St. Cross building, but getting that out of administrative clerks hidden behind data protection laws had been like pulling teeth.

“Of course I remember Paul,” the old professor said. The man was what Latis expected. Professor Eugene DeMarquis. A tweed jacket, a bald head, a musty old smell, a silly name and a demeanour somewhere between dithering idiot and eccentric genius.

“Has Paul been in touch with you recently?” Cornel asked as they took seats in a faculty room.

“No, not since he graduated. I had recommended Paul for a Master’s degree. He has time.”

Latis took out a notebook. “Professor DeMarquis, like I say, I’m a policeman from Romania so I’m not here in a law enforcement capacity, but we’re quite eager to trace Mr. McGovern and we don’t know where to start.”

“Oh, I see. Nothing too serious I hope. Is he alright?”

“We don’t know. Like I say we can’t find him.”

“What’s this about, Mr. Latis?”

Latis thought for a few seconds on how to broach the subject. “Well... Mr. McGovern was in Romania and he was seen with some men. Later these men were found... they had been murdered.”

“Oh, my goodness.” DeMarquis brought a hand over his mouth. “Is Paul alright, he isn’t injured or anything that you know?”

“He’s missing. Obviously, we want to find him to ask if he has any knowledge, or did he witness anything... but we’re also concerned for his well being. We hope he’s alright, but we can’t find him and that’s why I’m here to ask for your help.”

“Yes, of course... but, murdered you say? That is troubling. Were they friends of Paul?”

“No, not friends... If I’m honest Professor, he is a suspect, but only so far as we need to eliminate him from the enquiry.”

“Oh, rubbish! You obviously haven’t met Paul. He’s a charming, uncertain and agreeable fellow who wouldn’t hurt a fly. You should be worried he’s not hurt rather than consider him a suspect.”

“Like I say. We need to find him so we can eliminate him from the enquiry. Do you know Paul well?”

“Yes, quite well. I was his personal tutor in his first year and he had a torrid time because his father died. We spoke often over that.”

“His father died?”

“Yes. His father had suffered ill health for many years down to alcohol problems. This all goes back some way. Now if I remember rightly, Paul was born in, I believe it was Seattle, in America. His father, I believe was called Jeremy, he was working in America on an exchange, he met Paul’s mother and she fell pregnant and Paul was born in America. His mother was a teacher too. If I remember correctly, Paul’s mother died from natural causes, illness, I believe it was breast cancer... anyway, she died whilst he was still a young boy and when this happened his father returned with him to Britain.”

“He lost his mother at an early age? How old was he?”

“I’m sorry. If we did ever discuss it this old memory of mine hasn’t remembered the details.”

“So his father brought Paul back to Britain,” Cornel encouraged him to pick up the story.

“That’s right. It sounded like the poor fellow never quite got over the death because he started having problems with the old alcohol. Drinking too much, you understand, the ruin of a man.”

Latis made a guilty smile.

“You know I think you can read that in Paul. He’s a quiet and independent sort of young man but there’s capability and resilience in him. Whilst he was sharing the story of his parents, I got to see where this strength came from. He’s bookish and quiet, but he was forced to stand on his own two feet. When his father passed away, Paul said it was a long time coming but expected and whilst it was upsetting to see someone finding themselves orphaned and alone, I somehow knew that he was made of sturdier stuff than most people.”

“In what way? How did you see it, what did he do?”

DeMarquis rubbed his chin for a moment. “Well, for example, he suddenly finds himself in a situation that would break most people. There were problems with the funeral and with debts of the estate and, of course, emotionally he was dealing with his own grief. As his tutor I have to take this sort of thing into account if a student has problems that can affect their work.”

“Did it affect his work?” Latis asked.

“Not in the slightest. His work was always top notch and always on time. He did fade away personally somewhat and seemed to prefer the quiet, but his written work was bold and courageous. He has a powerhouse intellect, Mr. Latis, and he’s someone who can get it down onto paper. When I talked to him his answers to questions were short and mumbled, but when you read him, you could sense that you were privy to the talents of a superior mind.”

“Interesting. So on the inside he’s clever and thoughtful, and on the outside...”

“...On the outside he’s a very quiet, very reserved and shy young man. Certainly not the sort of person to be involved in a police investigation.”

“You don’t think it’s possible he could have a hidden side to him?”

“Ha! Not a bit of it,” DeMarquis scoffed. “He’s a shrinking violet. If you ever meet him, Mr. Latis, you will probably spend most of your time asking him to speak up.”

----- X -----

This place was uncomfortable to work. From floor to ceiling there were fish tanks, eighteen inches deep, locked into racks in row after row after row. The research was fascinating but the job was boring. He’d spent many hours researching fish care to prepare for the interview. Now he was here all he had to do was periodic water samples and make sure the filters were maintained. It had taken less than an hour to train him in how to do the job.

Nisha was in the basement.

There had been the temptation to call in sick, but Joseph Frady had only been in the job for a week and if Paul was going to build a convincing fake identity, he had to keep his nose clean, not draw any attention to himself and fade into the background.

Nisha was in the basement. Chains around her neck and waist. Had she cried out for help yet, had she dared? Perhaps she’d died already.

It was hard to concentrate. He hadn’t slept at all. He’d begun suffering a problem of overheating that had first occurred in Romania and had suddenly flared up again. There were times when he felt he was burning up and wanted to strip naked to let the heat out, yet when he’d measured his temperature he was stone cold.

Last night had been terrible for overheating. He’d laid naked on the bed covers with the window open, listening to rainfall, feeling dampness in the air and imagining steam rise from his skin with the heat.

Nisha was in the basement of the squat.

That was all he could think about. She’d been there for almost twenty four hours.

He’d checked the telephone countless times to see if the alarm had activated. It hadn’t. He had her; he’d really done it, something so daring and outrageous he could scarcely believe he had the courage. The old Paul McGovern could do nothing, but Joseph Frady was amazing.

At six in the evening Joseph Frady switched the lights from daylight to moonlight. Part of the breeding cycle for the fish. They were beautiful in the dark. Thousands of inch long fish suddenly glowed against a royal blue light. Row after row. Thousands and thousands of swimming glow-sticks.

He said goodnight to the students and researchers in his lacklustre way. He carefully attached the yoke and knives that were stashed in his bag and concealed them with his coat and ambled out towards the dark and rain of Euston. He would walk to King’s Cross, in the rain, cooling down. It would take thirty minutes if he controlled himself and went slowly.

Nisha was in the basement.

It was playtime.

----- X -----

Latis rode the train back to London feeling tired. His head was leaning against the window and he had become mesmerised by the drops of rain on the glass being blown into vertical streaks towards his eyes. Today had been productive but DeMarquis gave a picture of McGovern that didn’t sit comfortably. The McGovern that DeMarquis was describing was not the same person who chopped up Nealla and Raul. Corneliu’s instinct was cold on the idea of McGovern as the killer.

The real gold of the trip to Oxford was DeMarquis had introduced him to Ellen King, a student on the same undergraduate course as Paul who had stayed on for a Master’s. Ellen and Paul weren’t particularly friends, but they knew each other and she was very eager to help. What Ellen had of value was a list of names and telephone numbers, many matching the names from Paul’s online social networks. Paul and Ellen seemed to move within the same network of friends and she was more than happy to help.

His phone rang.

The name on the screen. Noica. He answered and listened.

“Cornel?” Noica asked.

“Hello, Lucian.” Latis could feel his voice sounding sleepy.

“Are you not at the hotel? I thought we arranged a conference at six o’clock your time?”

He didn’t remember making the arrangement. “I’m sorry Lucian. I was out of London today. I would have been back sooner except I met a young lady who has many of the same friends as McGovern and she gave me all of their phone numbers.”

“Is that useful to you?”

“Well, if I’m going to talk to his friends... yes, it is... very useful.”

“Oh, good. Is there anything to report from today?”

“Well... I only spoke with two people, his former personal tutor and the girl who knew him. If I’m honest Lucian, I can’t for the life of me connect Paul McGovern the murderer with the Paul McGovern I learned about today. Are you certain there can’t be a mistake?”

“Not at all. In fact, it’s what I expected.”

“OK, listen, the Paul McGovern I’m learning about here is a very quiet, very shy, studious, academic. His tutor is what I would call ‘bookish’, yet he called McGovern and I quote, ‘as bookish a young man as you’ll ever find’. I even broached the subject that McGovern was implicated in a crime which made this old professor laugh in my face.”

“It is what I expected, Cornel.” Noica reiterated.

“I hear you... But my policeman’s-instinct is demanding I find out more and make no assumptions.”

“Policeman’s-instinct... I like that. Very good,” Noica said with a smile to his voice. “But Cornel, in seriousness, I’ve seen men like Paul McGovern. It’s the same story over and over again. Men who are harmless, men who would never do anything bad, men who would die defending their families. Then all of a sudden, they change and become violent.”

“What causes somebody to do that, Lucian?” Then as an afterthought, “My old chief said that you were a vampire hunter. Is that how you view McGovern? Because I don’t believe in vampires.”

“Vampire is not the word I chose to use. Every case is different but there are common threads. I wish I knew what caused it, Cornel. We’ve been studying it since the 1950’s but the progress has been... disappointing.”

Latis sat up straight and shook his shoulders to wake up. “Did you say you’ve been studying this since the fifties?”

“Not me personally, but I am the lead researcher on the phenomena now.”

Latis felt a cold chill and found himself very much awake. This wasn’t some random act of violence. The old wives tales of men becoming vampires had in the blink of an eye stopped being an old wives tale. Noica was a researcher in this thing. Decades of research. Decades.

“Noica...” Latis suddenly felt the cat get his tongue. He shaped the words carefully before they came out. “Is Paul McGovern... is he.. is he what the old superstition is about vampires?”

“I thought you understood this, Cornel?”

“I think I misunderstood the gravity of it. I thought we were looking for a man, a criminal; a violent criminal but still nothing more than a man.”

“We are. He is a man, Cornel. There is nothing supernatural about him. But he is suffering from a type of sickness that will change him physically and psychologically.”

“Change him into what?”

“We only understand fragments, Cornel. It’s hard to research because it doesn’t happen naturally very often. When it does, the men suffering from it don’t usually live long enough to study. What makes it even harder to study are those suffering from it have such widely different symptoms. The behaviour is always the same, they become violent and delusional. Physically they undergo a type of acceleration of the nervous system. The neurons of their brain fire faster, their nerves become like superconductors. This is all down to neurochemistry. The upshot of it all is they think and react faster than normal. If you see a man with this in the early stages it is quite remarkable. You would think you’re seeing a man taking drugs to speed up his reflexes. They seem to move and anticipate your movements with an almost superhuman ability; but that is always the beginning of the end, eventually this nervous acceleration makes them jittery and unable to stop moving, eventually they’re unable to control their own muscles correctly until it becomes so bad that they can’t even stand up. They see out their days shaking and trembling in a hospital bed.”