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

by Adam Carter

  “Room service.”

  “But we didn’t order any ... and you’re not carrying anything.”

  “We?”

  The woman tried to close the door on him, but Baronaire pushed through regardless. The room was arranged pretty much as was all the others, save there was a young woman sitting on the bed. She was around twenty, with pale-brown skin and genuine fear to her face as she leaped to her feet. Baronaire stood there staring at her, his gut telling him this was Tammy, his logic screaming at him it couldn’t possibly be this easy.

  Then he collapsed as something heavy cracked him about the head and he heard the older woman shout, “Run!”

  Cursing, Baronaire regained his balance just as he was hit in the gut with an iron. He fell into the mirror and brought his arm up to prevent being hit again, but the woman was a furious, insane bundle of hate-filled energy and just kept hitting him with the iron. Eventually he managed to catch the thing and the two of them struggled, the woman possessed of amazing strength. As they grappled, Baronaire tried to see what Tammy was doing, but she hadn’t run past him yet so he knew he didn’t have to worry much on that regard.

  He heard the tell-tale sound of a shotgun being pumped and they both stopped struggling, their heads turning to the door to see the insane Santa that seemed to delight in popping up this year.

  The woman released Baronaire and backed away slowly.

  Even beneath his false beard Baronaire could see Sanders’s face freeze.

  Looking about him, Baronaire noted the open window and hastened over to it. But there was no sign of Tammy. She was long gone.

  “You gonna shoot me with that thing?” The woman made it almost a challenge.

  “Where’s she gone?” Baronaire asked, rounding upon her then. He grabbed her by the arm and shook her, hard. “What have you made her ...”

  “Charles.”

  Baronaire stopped, looking to Sanders, and for an instant did he believe the gun was pointed at him. “Tammy was here,” Baronaire told him. “She was unharmed, at least physically.” He released the woman’s arm and took a step back. “Who are you?”

  The woman clamped her mouth shut.

  “Priya Uddin,” Sanders said. “Tamara’s mother.”

  The woman seemed surprised Sanders knew that, but the fire in her eyes remained. “That’s right,” she said in what Baronaire believed to be a Bangladeshi accent. “You want my girl, you’re gonna have to shoot me. You gonna shoot me or what?”

  “You’re supposed to be inside,” Sanders said.

  “Good behaviour, if it’s any a your business.”

  “Good ... When?”

  She looked at him strangely. “Last week. Early Christmas present, they said.”

  Baronaire was beginning to piece it together. “So the first thing you did was contact your daughter so you could spend Christmas with her. Why the secrecy though? Why didn’t Tammy tell anyone where she was going?”

  “How should I know why Tamara doesn’t do things?” Uddin shot. “I see my girl every week, she always comes to visit. When I get let out, first thing I want to do is see my baby. But she’s jittery, afraid. I figure someone’s out to get her, someone’s after her. Looks like I was right about that. But you think I’m gonna give you my baby you can think again.” She folded her arms. “You do what you like to me, I’m giving you nothing.”

  “Ms Uddin,” Baronaire said tactfully, “do you know what your daughter does for a living?”

  “Sure I know. She works in an office, like most folk. Damned if I’m gonna tell you which office though. Gonna have to shoot me first.”

  Baronaire sighed, shook his head. “This was a waste of time.” He walked out the door, noting the strange expression still upon Sanders’s face. “You comin’?”

  “Yeah,” Sanders replied, his voice gruff. Perhaps intentionally so? “Mrs Uddin,” he said, “we’re sorry for the intrusion.”

  “Mrs Uddin?” she laughed. “Never married, Santa. And my man died a long time ago.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am. Tamara ... is she happy?”

  Uddin frowned at the strange question. “Happy?”

  “You’ve spent the last couple of days with her. Is she happy, do you think?”

  “My daughter’s been looking after herself since I got put away. She’s done a fine job a that, Shotgun Santa. And she’s never broken the law. She’s never stooped that low.”

  “We’ll get her back for you, I promise.”

  “You stay away from my daughter, you hear? You go near her and I’ll kill you. Whoever you are under that stupid fat suit, I’ll find you and I’ll kill you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Baronaire watched Sanders walk away and followed at a close pace. He looked at his boss and raised both eyebrows.

  “Not one word,” Sanders warned.

  They did not speak all the way back to the car.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “She was wrong, you know,” Baronaire said. The two men had been driving for ten minutes and neither had spoken a word. Sanders had dumped the silly Santa costume on the back seat, and as Baronaire drove the DCI sat there deep in thought. Baronaire didn’t quite know what to make of everything that had happened back at the hotel, but he wasn’t an idiot and some things were just obvious by now.

  “What?” Sanders asked, the first word he had spoken in a while.

  “Uddin,” Baronaire said. “She said Tammy had been looking after herself all this time. But that’s not quite true. She had you.”

  “I’m not having this conversation, Charles.”

  “Looks like I’ll be having it with myself then.”

  Silence.

  “What was she in for?”

  Sanders gave a shrug, and for a moment Baronaire thought he wouldn’t speak again. Then he said, “Clubbed a guy on the back of the head. Priya always did have a temper.”

  Baronaire still ached from the industrious ironing the woman had done upon his person. “I can sympathise. I take it the guy died?”

  “Mmm. That left Tamara without anyone to look after her. She bounced around foster homes, and eventually ended up on the streets. But she survived. First through petty theft, then prostitution.”

  “And you didn’t think to step in and help her before things got that far?”

  “She was safer without me in her life.”

  “But you are in her life. You’ve put a roof over her head, you make sure she keeps all the money she earns. She has a pretty decent life, better than any hooker I know. And she’s clean of drugs, which is an achievement.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Baronaire tapped his nose. “I was with her for a few moments. It was enough.”

  Sanders accepted that. “I went through her flat earlier, Charles. I’ve never been there before, you know that?”

  The thought of Edward Sanders opening up to anyone was laughable, and for him to choose Charles Baronaire as his sounding board was perhaps the most ludicrous aspect of the entire journey. But Baronaire reckoned he knew Sanders better than anyone. Sanders had nothing outside of his work, and by its very nature that work was extremely secretive. Sanders had no one to talk to, and Baronaire was more than willing to listen. And more importantly he was there in the car with him when Sanders actually needed to talk.

  “At least we know why she was nervous,” Baronaire said. “You’d have thought she would have at least told Holly where she was going though.”

  “They’re not family. As much as Holly kept saying they were like sisters, they’re not family. Tamara’s not ashamed of what she does, but there’s a difference between shameless and proud. I guess she figured she’d try to keep her two lives separate.”

  “Sure. What with her father being dead and all.”

  Sanders ignored him.

  “The part I can’t figure out,” Baronaire continued, “is why you never made an honest woman of Priya. I mean, you’re all family values, protecting the country, keeping Lo
ndon safe for future generations, right?”

  “It was a stupid thing for me to have done.”

  “Fall in love?”

  “Have you ever been in love, Charles?”

  He paused. “No.”

  “Don’t.”

  There was another silence, and Baronaire had to see the humour in his DCI’s great empowering speech there. Baronaire did not know love, although he knew lust well enough. There was a string of corpses to stand testimony to that. But no, he had never known love. If this was what love did to a man, perhaps he never would.

  But it was always nice to bait the boss.

  “I don’t know,” Baronaire said, turning a corner. “I’ve always figured one day I’ll settle down, have a couple a kids. Maybe buy a farm or something. Make a home for myself far away from anybody.”

  “Men like us can’t afford to fall in love, Charles. I should have walked away the moment I realised I was under her spell, but there was something in my head which convinced me to give it a try. I could manage both, my inner voice was saying, juggle my life so I could continue my mission and still have someone by my side. But not to share it. The secrets, the lies ... it gets to you. Grinds down a relationship.”

  “You can work through that. Just don’t talk about your work at home, simple.”

  Sanders smiled wryly, his eyes staring vacantly out the windscreen. “I wish it was. We make enemies here, Charles. We shouldn’t: by the very nature of the job we shouldn’t be making enemies. But we do. Not very often, I’ll grant you, but one day we’ll hack off the wrong people and we’ll have armed men coming after us. We’ll put up a fight, band together, go out in a blaze of glory; but we’ll all die. And no one will ever know. Because we don’t exist, Charles. Operation WetFish is on the official books, all our officers are noted on the databases, but the bunker doesn’t exist. If someone attacked us in the bunker ...”

  “If someone attacked the bunker,” Baronaire interrupted, “we’d defend it. It’s what the place is for, it’s impregnable.”

  “Nowhere’s impregnable, don’t be so naïve.” He paused. “Do you know how many officers working for WetFish have partners?”

  Baronaire shrugged. “No. You don’t like us socialising.”

  “Thompson. She with anyone?”

  “Sure.”

  “What’s her partner’s name?”

  “Don’t know. What day is it?”

  “Foster?”

  “Foster doesn’t have anyone.”

  “Jeremiah?”

  “God, you’re joking.”

  “Stockwell?”

  Baronaire sighed. “You going somewhere with this?”

  “Enemies. If we make any, they could do one of two things. Attack the bunker directly, which will probably fail, or go after the people we love. And if we don’t have people we love ...” His voice trailed off.

  “Right. So that’s why you ditched your woman and kid?”

  Sanders went back to staring out the window. “Hardest thing I ever did. I faked my death, even went to the funeral, did the cliché thing of standing in the shadows. I was used to not being seen, it wasn’t difficult. Tamara was three years old when I died. Do you have any idea what it’s like to have your father die when you’re that age?”

  Baronaire did not reply. When he was five a man had murdered his own father. He had been a child, had not understood why it had happened, and years later had learned the name of the man. Edward Sanders. Baronaire had joined WetFish in order to infiltrate the system and kill the man who had murdered his father. But WetFish wasn’t the bandage the rest of the police force was. WetFish wasn’t the cough mixture you take even though you know it won’t do a blind bit of good. WetFish was the scalpel which if wielded correctly would cut out the infection entirely. WetFish was necessary. If it wasn’t, Edward Sanders would have died a long time ago.

  But yes, Baronaire did know what it was like for a child to lose its father.

  “So now no one can harm your daughter,” Baronaire said. “Some would say that’s a brave thing to do.”

  Sanders shrugged.

  “I think you’re a coward.”

  Sanders stared ice at him.

  “My parents are dead,” Baronaire said. “If I could have five minutes with one of them ... God, what I wouldn’t give for five minutes. Tammy’s mother’s been in prison all this time and you could have stepped in. Hell, you could have recruited her, kept her close to your side; that would have protected her. Instead you let her go sell herself for money? That’s not looking after her, Ed.”

  “I considered that. When she first ended up on the streets. But I had to weigh it. Would I prefer for her to sell her body to survive, or for her to live the horror we live day in day out? Then there were you and Jeremiah to consider. I figured she was better off with the monsters out there. At least they’d be paying her rent. If I kept her in my controlled zone I would know every move she made. I could watch out for her, like a father should.”

  “You could have got rid of us. I know I would have.”

  “And how would I have done that? Killed you? You’re not leaving WetFish other than under a cypress lid, my friend.”

  “That’s a handy lie, boss. You don’t want to get rid of me and Jeremiah. We’re monsters, I know we are. But we do good work for you; my turnaround alone is ten times better than any of the others, I have no idea what Jeremiah’s is like.”

  “Not as good. Jeremiah was never as dedicated.”

  “That’s information you shouldn’t be telling me.”

  “No.”

  “You know what I feel bad about, Ed?”

  “What?”

  “Abandoning Holly at the hotel. She’ll be royally peeved.”

  Sanders closed his eyes. “Oh God, I’d forgotten all about her.”

  “Really? I just figured you didn’t need her any more so we just left her there.”

  “Well it’s too late to go back for her now. We’re nearly back at Tamara’s flat.”

  “She’s not going to be there. That’s the last place she’d head.”

  “Well we have no other leads, so there’s not much else we can try.”

  “Where would she turn to?” Baronaire asked, slowing as they reached the right street. “Come on, you know the girl. Who’s the one person she would turn to if she really got herself in trouble?”

  “I ... I don’t know.”

  “Great.”

  Just then the radio buzzed. Baronaire knew it would be Holly screaming blue murder at them, but Sanders answered it. “What?” he barked, then his face softened. “Oh.”

  “What?” Baronaire asked as he parked.

  “I’m on my way.” Sanders set down the radio. “That was the bunker. Tamara rang my office phone. She wants to meet me.”

  “That’s good. Is that good?”

  “What am I supposed to say to her?”

  “The truth?”

  Sanders balked.

  Baronaire sighed. “Tell me where to drive. We can write you a speech along the way.”

  There was gratitude in Sanders’s eyes, although he would never voice such aloud. Nor in truth would Baronaire have wanted to hear it spoken.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sanders stood by an old oak tree, straightening his tie, clenching and unclenching his sweaty hands. He had arranged to meet Tamara in the park, which of course was closed today. He had vaulted over the fence like a man half his age, but had gone no further. He had never been more nervous in his life; he could easily see the trench he had paced into the snow. It had been a while since he had spoken to Tamara; even though he always told himself it was best to stay away from her, he did look in on her from time to time. Sometimes he would simply drive by slowly without her knowing, others he would phone her to check up on her. Sometimes he would invent things he needed help with just so they could talk over the phone or on rare occasions meet in person.

  But he had never wanted anything from her, not really.

&n
bsp; But today was Christmas. Baronaire thought he should tell her the truth, as though something magical could really happen today, on the vague anniversary of a winter holiday dating back thousands of years which no longer bore relevance to today’s society. No one today really thought the winter would continue forever, but they clung onto old beliefs regardless. Sacrifices still had to be made to the gods in order to return the light to the world.

  Taking a deep breath, Sanders began to walk. He found Tamara where she was supposed to be, sitting on a bench beside the fountain. It was cold, the bench was covered in snow, but Tamara sat there in complete calmness, as though she was awaiting the arrival of her sweetheart.

  Sanders watched her from behind a tree, unnoticed. She was twenty years old now; it would be her twenty-first soon. Perhaps Baronaire was right; perhaps a fitting present would be to tell her the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Would she understand the full horror of the organisation he ran? Would she approve? Would she help him? Probably. But would she forgive him for abandoning her her entire life? For faking his own death?

  He stepped out into sight. Tamara noticed him then and relief flooded her body. She was a short woman, her dark hair long and radiant. Her eyes sparkled with life, with hope, and her smile warmed the winter afternoon. Sanders could see the tiny scar upon her cheek, a permanent reminder of how they had first officially met. It did nothing to destroy her beauty.

  “Mister Sanders,” she breathed, almost running into his arms. “Thank God you answered.”

  “Believe me, I have nothing better to do today.”

  “Sorry,” she said, her eyes uncertain, “did I take you away from your family?”

  Sanders laughed. It was a cleansing motion and one which he felt he should do more often. “Have a seat.”

  And so they sat. Tamara was still very much afraid, but not of him. It was cold on that bench, but Sanders did not care at all.

  “I know why you called me,” he told her simply. “It’s sorted.”

  “Two men came to the hotel. They ...”

  Sanders held up his hands. “Sorted.”

  Tamara blinked. “Just like that?”