Operation WetFish, Vampire Detective: Ultimate Omnibus Volume 1 of 4 (Operation WetFish, Vampire Detective Ultimate Omnibus)

by Adam Carter

  “And remember I’m cooking a roast tonight, so try not to be too late.”

  He promised he would do his best and gathered up their two children. Geoff didn’t ordinarily take them to school, but he was going into work at the same time and had to pass by the school so it made sense. And it gave Kate the opportunity to grab an early start on things.

  “George!” she called, rushing through the front door to her toddler son. She knelt and handed him his lunchbox, ruffling his messy hair. “You’d forget your head if it wasn’t screwed on,” she laughed. George hugged her, and her husband took the children off to the car. Kate, suddenly conscious she was only wearing a dressing gown, pulled it closer and waved them off. The kids were up against the window of the car, pulling faces and pressing their noses against the glass, and Kate laughed to herself as they took off. She sighed, alone at last. The silence was good, but she couldn’t wait to see her babies again.

  “Mrs Danvers.”

  Kate turned. There was a woman standing at the edge of the fence. She had not noticed her before. She was aged in her mid-to-late twenties and was wearing tight black clothes, possibly biker’s gear. She stood with her hands in her pockets, her eyes lowered. Kate frowned. She was certain she had seen the woman somewhere before, but could not quite place her.

  “Yes?” she asked. “Can I help you?”

  “I don’t know,” the woman said, and as she looked up Kate could see the other woman had been crying. As their eyes met something shuddered within Kate and her face fell. “Jen?”

  “Hey, Katie.”

  “My God, you ... Are you all right?”

  “No. No, I don’t think I am.”

  Kate looked about the street quickly. People weren’t paying any attention, but it wouldn’t be long before curtains would twitch. Not in this street anyway. “Come in,” Kate said. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

  *

  Kate Danvers and Jennifer Thompson had met in nineteen eighty-three. They had been eighteen years old and ready to see the world. They had spent seven wonderful months together before they had split up, and Kate had simply forgotten all about her. Jen was something of her past, a dark secret once cherished, now best forgotten. She had been her first and only girlfriend, and Jen would always hold a special place in her heart.

  Why Jen would come back to see her almost ten years after they had split up was beyond her understanding.

  Kate placed the tea on the table and took the seat opposite. Jen hadn’t spoken a word since she sat down, had just stared at the table, lost in her own thoughts. She was in trouble, that much was clear, but why would she come back here? Didn’t Jen have anyone else to turn to? Didn’t she have any friends?

  The very thought was upsetting in itself, and Kate didn’t want to press her for answers unless she was ready.

  “How’ve you been keeping?” Kate asked as she sipped her own tea. “You look well. You work out?”

  “Yeah,” Jen said distantly. “Every day.”

  “It works.”

  “You look ...” Jen looked up and there was hurt in her eyes, but it was not anything of Kate’s doing. “You look happy, Katie.”

  “I am happy. Geoff’s a good man. And I always wanted kids, you knew that.”

  “Guess some things ... Well, some things aren’t meant to be.”

  Kate considered that carefully. “We had a good time together, Jen. You were my first, my first either man or woman. We had ... Well, what we had can’t be taken away. But you were never one to be tied down, Jen. It’s not the way you were made.”

  “No.”

  “So ... You seeing anyone?”

  There was a half-smile. “No. Just ... occasional people. Nothing serious.”

  “You’re not a teenager any more, Jen; you need to settle down. You’re twenty-eight years old; about time to start thinking of falling in love.”

  “I’m not the kind of person to fall in love, Katie.”

  Kate caught the look in her friend’s eyes and looked away.

  “You have good kids,” Jen said, looking at a painting on the fireplace of what appeared to be a cat.

  “George did that,” Kate said with a smile of pride. “He and Sue are just what I always wanted. A family. Some stability. And I couldn’t have done better than Geoff.”

  “Does he know?”

  “About us? No.” She paused. “Is that why you’re here? After ten years you’ve come to blackmail me or something?”

  Jen looked hurt by the very suggestion and immediately did Kate feel ashamed by her accusation. “I just needed a friend,” Jen said softly. “I’m sorry, I’m intruding. I should go.”

  The two women rose at the same time and Kate placed a hand on the other woman’s arm. “Jen, I’m sorry. I ... Please, sit down. I’m just a little shocked, that’s all.”

  “You smell good, Katie,” Jen said distantly, as though her mind was only half working.

  “Don’t ... Please don’t hit on me, Jen.”

  “Because you’re tempted?”

  “Because I’m married. Happily.”

  Jen sat and Kate moved off to the kitchen to fetch some biscuits. She had not seen Jen Thompson for so long, hadn’t even thought about her in several years; but her heart was still racing, and as memories flooded back into her mind she began to wonder how she could ever have surrendered that woman sitting now at the table.

  She returned to the front room to find Jen standing by the fireplace, her eyes on the photographs adorning the mantelpiece. “I’m sorry, Katie,” she said. “I’m a mess and I thought ... I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said any of that.”

  “You’re falling back on a time when you were happy,” Kate said, “when you had a stable life. You don’t have to apologise.” She could see Jen was still far from happy, barely even cognisant of what she was doing. Something was wrong, terribly wrong, and Kate’s heart went out to her. “Here. Have a digestive.”

  Jen took the biscuit with a small smile of appreciation and sat back down at the table. “I’m a cop,” she said out of the blue.

  “Really?” Kate asked. “I shouldn’t be too surprised, I guess. It was either that or the military. You always did like to take orders.”

  “I was never very good at thinking for myself,” Jen admitted. “But my division ... We’re a little unusual. I’m a detective, and I tend to plan my own workload.”

  “Finally taking control of your life? I’m impressed.”

  “Two nights ago I went out on an operation. I got in trouble and called in for backup. An officer came to help me. He died and I ran away.”

  Kate said nothing. She poured some more tea and looked at her guest in silence.

  “I’m impulsive,” Jen continued, seeming to forget she was even with someone. Kate had seen this many times in the past and knew it was always best to let her get these things out of her system. How strange it was even after all this time Kate remembered just how to deal with Jen Thompson. “I don’t think about other people, I act when I should be thinking. I live for the buzz, you know? I get off on the adrenalin rush. And then other people pay for my mistakes.”

  Kate sipped her tea.

  Jen was back to staring at the carpet. “I was thinking about Dan last night.”

  “That wasn’t your fault,” Kate cut in. “You weren’t even in the same country. Plus you were just a kid, what were you supposed to do?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t even know why I feel guilty about Dan, why I ever did. But this one? This one was my fault.”

  “So what does your boss say?”

  “Didn’t even suspend me.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “Why?”

  “Because it means it wasn’t your fault.”

  “That’s the strange thing. He said to forget about it and move on. Said he would never suspend one of us for the sake of one of them. No idea what he was talking about.”

  “Your boss hates men?”

  “My boss is a man.
”

  “Oh.”

  Silence.

  “How’s everyone else treating you?” Kate asked.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to many of them. I went straight to the pub, couldn’t even get bladdered right. One of the girls came to see me, gave me some gush about putting together an operation. She says they think he might not be dead; but he’s dead. He was shot, more than once, and had a burning building fall on him. You don’t survive that.”

  “You’re limping.”

  “Bullet through the leg.”

  “And yet you’re alive?”

  “I didn’t have a building fall on me.”

  Kate did not speak for several moments. She could see what had happened, could piece together the story without Jen having to even mention it all. This guy had come to help, had saved her life, had told her to run. She was wounded and he had protected her. And she had watched him die. It was survivor’s guilt, but Jen didn’t want to hear that right now. She needed someone to talk to, and it was clear she had no one else. Whatever operation her people were running, it was clear they weren’t big on friendship.

  Jen Thompson led a very lonely life. If it had been she who had died two nights ago, Kate doubted anyone would even have cried over her.

  “I think you need to see a doctor,” Kate said at last.

  “I’m used to treating wounds. It’s not infected.”

  “I didn’t mean about the leg.”

  Jen looked away. “I don’t need a shrink.”

  “Then go on this manhunt, Jen.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’ll give you closure. It’ll allow you to move on.” She closed her hand around Jen’s and offered her a warm smile. “And we all need to move on eventually.”

  Jen did not stay much longer. By the time she left Kate felt very strongly that she hadn’t got through to her; but she had tried her best and there was nothing more she could do. The best thing Jen could do was surround herself with her colleagues, especially if she had no friends. She needed to be doing something, something active, and if her work was the only thing in her life now, she needed to be working.

  “Sorry to put all of this on you,” Jen said at the door.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Do you ever wish things were different?”

  Kate tried to smile, but any ache in her heart she had felt for this woman was abating. The earlier rush had been because her old love had simply turned up out of nowhere, but now Kate was able to think, remembering George and Sue and Geoff, she had only one answer. “No. I’m sorry, Jen, but my life has changed in the last ten years. I’d ... I’d appreciate it if you didn’t come by again. I really don’t want Geoff finding out about us.”

  “Sure. Sure, I’m sorry if I’ve put you out, Katie.”

  Kate sighed deeply, caressing Jen’s face lovingly with the back of her hand. “It was good to see you again, Jen. I hope you can work through this.”

  And she closed the door on Jen Thompson forever.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jeremiah banged his head against the steering wheel. A dapper man, tall, thin and incredibly well-groomed, Jeremiah’s thin moustache and beard surrounded his mouth and chin but touched nowhere else upon his cheeks. It highlighted his usual cheery disposition, reinforcing the smile which was almost always there. Presently it only sought to hide the fact he was scowling.

  “Would you get out of the way?” he sighed.

  He was still in the underground car park of the bunker from which the officers of Operation WetFish worked. He had had a very interesting discussion with Detective Chief Inspector Edward Sanders and the two men had come to the conclusion that Charles Baronaire was not dead. It was possible of course, but Jeremiah himself had gone over the scene of the attack and had found no trace of him. Total incineration would have accounted for that, especially with someone like Baronaire, but there was no trace of his clothes, his trademark trench coat, and they had both found that odd. Jeremiah and Sanders had agreed that there was a chance Baronaire had been taken by the drug cartel and was even now being interrogated. Baronaire would not give in to torture, but if he should let slip something to do with WetFish, the game could be over for them all.

  At the present moment Jeremiah’s main concern was the slightly rotund woman plastering herself all across his bonnet like some suicidal road-kill.

  “Move!”

  “No,” Detective Sharon Foster said. Her arms were spread wide for some unknown reason, her face staring directly at him through the windshield. He was very tempted to just floor the accelerator and pretend he hadn’t seen her, but there were cameras everywhere in the bunker, and Sanders did not take kindly to the murder of his officers.

  “You’re not coming with me,” Jeremiah told her, leaning out the window so she could hear him properly. “Look, you’re not even supposed to know about this. Sanders won’t like it when he learns you were listening in at the door.”

  “Then Sanders should have better security. Now I’m going with you or you’re not going anywhere.”

  Jeremiah had hoped Sanders would have seen her actions and sent someone down to remove her, but it seemed no security force was forthcoming. He drummed his fingers upon the steering wheel, contemplating his decision. Travelling alone was by far the best option. The evening was approaching and Jeremiah could work wonders once the Sun was down. Not being entirely human, Jeremiah’s tracking abilities were heightened at night and if Baronaire was out there he would have him back in no time.

  “I’ll buy you a whole tub of Haagen Dazs,” Jeremiah offered.

  Foster seemed offended by the offer. “You really are a creep, Jeremiah.”

  “I try, my dear.”

  The passenger door suddenly opened and Jeremiah leaned back in the car, raising an eyebrow as Detective Thompson strapped herself in.

  “What are you doing?” he asked. “I’m sorry, did I miss the memo telling everyone I was taking them to the circus?”

  “Can the funny, Jeremiah, I’m not in the mood.”

  Jeremiah stared at Thompson’s profile. Her appearance was haggard, her eyes tired. She looked like she had been crying, crying quite a lot actually. But she was prim and business-like and clearly had a mission in her head. Jeremiah inhaled deeply of her aroma. It wasn’t angry, which was unexpected. Instead she seemed to have made up her mind to do something. Her aroma was determined, decisive and authoritative.

  “What are you grinning at?” she asked.

  “Nothing, my dear. Just debating which limb I would lose first should I attempt to deny you anything.”

  “Just drive.”

  Jeremiah glanced out to where Foster was still sprawled across the bonnet. “Don’t tempt me.”

  Thompson pointed at Foster and threw a thumb behind her. Foster squealed, hurrying around to the side of the car. Jeremiah closed his eyes briefly as Foster sat behind him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  “Don’t be annoying,” Jeremiah said, “or I don’t care what Thompson says, I’m throwing you out.”

  “Double for me,” Thompson said, her mind elsewhere.

  Jeremiah at last took the car out of the bunker, the fading light of day hitting him as soon as he broke into the outside world. He could taste Foster’s excitement behind him and was thankful for the presence of Detective Thompson. Jeremiah had been controlling himself for a long time, but Foster’s temperament was infectious and he worried he would not be able to help himself. Thompson’s dour expression was a constant reminder that they had a job to do.

  “Where we headed anyway?” Thompson asked dryly. “Do we have any leads?”

  “Some,” Jeremiah said offhandedly. “I went through the docks and didn’t find much, but Sanders gave me a heads-up on where the gang’s hiding out.”

  “Abandoned warehouse?” Foster rasped.

  “Office space, central London.”

  “Oh.”

  Jeremiah frowned, glanced in his mirror at her
– his mirrors were always carefully focused so no one in any of the seats would be able to see him in them. “These guys are rich, Foster. People in the drugs smuggling trade usually are. They don’t hide out in abandoned buildings. And if they do, they have plenty of backup in the form of speedboats.”

  “You’re so funny,” Thompson muttered.

  No one spoke for the rest of the journey. They pulled up in a busy street and left the car to finish their search on foot. The London traffic was still in full swing; in Jeremiah’s experience it never really stopped. This was useful since it meant they could disappear into the crowds if they wanted to and their enemy would not see from which direction they were coming.

  They drew up to the correct building and Jeremiah strode ahead. “Let me do the talking.”

  “Hold on, tiger,” Thompson said. “We don’t have any IDs, we’re not going to be able to get in there.”

  “I know. I have a way.”

  “What?”

  Jeremiah knew this was going to be annoying, but he had had little choice. He could just imagine Sanders sitting in his office laughing at the video footage of the two women all but forcing themselves upon him back in the car park, even without Jeremiah showing up on the recording. But Sanders knew Jeremiah had the best chance at finding Baronaire if he went alone. Perhaps this just meant Sanders did not want Baronaire found: perhaps this was his way of saying he hoped Baronaire was already dead.

  Jeremiah entered a phone box and tore down some fliers. He stepped back out and handed one to each of the women. “Here. Show these at the door.”

  Thompson glanced at hers. “Busty Betty? Do I look like a Busty Betty to you?”

  Foster, meanwhile, was handling her flier as though it had rabies.

  Jeremiah ran a hand down his face in sheer dejection. “I’ve bribed the guard,” he lied. “The security guard? We could show him a photograph of a potato and he’d let us through. But the receptionists need to see that we’re showing something. Just don’t let them see what it is.”

  Thompson nodded her understanding. “So why didn’t you just say that?”

  They approached the building then. It was probably twenty storeys, perhaps slightly more, and was formed almost exclusively of glass, it seemed. The main doors were automatic and Jeremiah strolled through gaily, nodding at the two receptionists as he crossed the lobby. A stern-faced security guard blocked his passage and Jeremiah held up the cardboard flier as he walked past. As he did so, his eyes locked with those of the guard and he commanded the man to accept what he was seeing. Hypnosis was such an underrated skill, and one at which Jeremiah was a master.