Anno Dracula - Kim Newman [119]
A couple of young bloods, sharp-eyed new-born toughs, lurched away from an ill-made and damp wall to bar the egress from the tiny courtyard. He showed his face and teeth, facing them down. Without a word, they slipped back to their shadows and allowed him to pass.
He was out of uniform, concealed by a large hat and cloak, limping through the night fog. The message had given an address in the Old Jago, a district which was to Whitechapel what Whitechapel was to Mayfair.
‘Moldavian,’ came a quiet voice. ‘Over here.’
In the dark of an alley-mouth, Kostaki saw Mackenzie. ‘Scotsman, well met.’
‘If you say so.’
The Inspector’s coat was holed and patched, and he wore a week’s whiskers. Kostaki understood he had not been seen for some time. His fellows were concerned for his safety. The general assumption was that he had been removed to Devil’s Dyke following an undiplomatic utterance.
‘A fine pair of beggars we make,’ Mackenzie said, shifting his shoulders inside his loose and dirty coat.
Kostaki grinned. He was pleased this warm man was not in a concentration camp. ‘Where have you been?’
‘Here, in the main,’ said Mackenzie. ‘And Whitechapel. This is where the trail goes to ground.’
‘The trail?’
‘Our masked fox with the dynamite. I’ve been tracking him since that night in the park.’
Kostaki remembered the flash of a pistol and dark eyes inside a concealing hood. The stick of dynamite fizzing in von Klatka’s chest an instant before the blast. Then, a lumpy red rainstorm. ‘You have found the murderer?’
Mackenzie nodded.
‘I see the reputation of Scotland Yard is well earned.’
Mackenzie looked bitter. ‘This is nothing to do with Scotland Yard. Not with Warren or Anderson or Lestrade. They were in the way, so I set out on my own.’
‘A lone hunter?’
‘Exactly. Warren insisted we look for a Christian Crusader, but I knew better. You were there, Kostaki. You must remember. The man in the hood. He was a vampire.’
The dark eyes. Maybe rimmed with red. Kostaki had not forgotten.
‘And that vampire is here in this rookery.’ Mackenzie looked up. In the lodging house opposite the alleyway there was a light. A third-storey room. Shadows moved on the thin muslin curtain. ‘I’ve been watching him for days and nights. They call him “Danny” or “Sergeant”. A very interesting fellow, our fox. He has surprising associations.’
Mackenzie’s eyes shone. Kostaki recognised the pride of a predator.
‘Are you sure this is him?’
‘Sure as I can be. You will be too. When you see him, when you hear his voice.’
‘How did you track him?’
Mackenzie smiled again and laid a finger beside his nose. ‘I followed the trail. Dynamite and silver are hard to come by. There are only a few sources worth mentioning. I played the Irish card, asking around the mick pubs. It’s certain his bully-boys were recruited from the Fenians. When it comes to mopping up, I’ve most of their names. I had a description of the Sergeant within two days. Then I found a few hard facts, details scattered on the ground like crumbs.’
The light dimmed and Kostaki shrank back deeper into the alley, pulling Mackenzie with him.
‘You’ll see now,’ the Scotsman said. ‘You’ll see him.’
An ill-fitting door was pulled inwards and a vampire emerged from the building. It was the man Kostaki had seen in the park. There was no mistaking the upright bearing. And the eyes. He wore old clothes and a battered peaked cap, but his posture and flaring moustache suggested the British army. The vampire looked around him, staring for a long second into the alley. Then he consulted a pocket watch. Briskly, the Sergeant marched off.
Mackenzie breathed again.
When they could no longer hear the vampire’s bootfalls, Kostaki said. ‘It was him.’
‘I never had any doubt.’
‘Then why did you summon me?’
‘Because I can trust you as no other. We have an understanding, you and I.’
Kostaki knew what Mackenzie meant.
‘We must follow this Sergeant, find his confederates, root out and destroy his whole conspiracy.’
‘That is where our situation becomes