The Book With No Name

by AnonYMous

  ‘Is she a vampire?’ asked Peto, his tone mixing incredulity with curiosity.

  ‘Watch. I’ll show you.’

  Rex stood up, pulling a large silver revolver from a holster inside his black leather jacket. The woman at the table had obviously been keeping tabs on him out of the corner of her eye, because she was the first to spot him taking aim. He held the firearm out in front of him with a straight arm and pointed it directly at her heart. Her eyes bulged wide open in terror, but before she could move Rex fired three shots in quick succession.

  The noise of the discharge was deafening, the echo of each shot making it difficult for anyone to know for certain exactly how many shots had been fired. The whole place went quiet, apart from the ringing in everyone’s ears. The four men sitting at the table with the woman jumped back from their seats, startled by the sight of their companion being hit three times in the chest by Rex’s bullets. This initial shock was soon trumped by the sight of their female companion exploding into flames seconds after the impact of the third and final bullet. For the next few seconds blood poured from her wounds, spraying a wide area. When at last the flow stopped and the flames burnt themselves out, there was nothing but a pile of grey ash left where she had been sitting. The whole episode was over in less than twenty seconds. All that remained to show that it had ever happened was a little ash and an unpleasant smell of cordite and charred flesh.

  Once all the spectators (including the men at the dead woman’s table) had taken on board what they had just witnessed, they all carried on about their business as if nothing had happened. This sort of occurrence was not commonplace in Santa Mondega, but the folk around these parts weren’t going to make a big fuss about it, simply because it was Rodeo Rex who had pulled the trigger.

  Rex had put his gun away long before the last of the flames had gone out.

  ‘Well, that’s not something you see every day,’ Kyle observed.

  ‘It was a little unusual, wasn’t it?’ said Peto, nodding in agreement.

  Rex, entirely unfazed by what he had just done or by the reaction of the others, simply sat back down at their table, took a long swig from his enormous bottle of beer, and carried on talking.

  ‘She was a werewolf,’ he said, burping back up all the air that had gone down his throat with the beer. ‘Not likely to have troubled us much, to be honest. Werewolves are fuckin’ pointless unless there’s a full moon. The vampires – they’re the ones to worry about. They won’t be out for another hour or so. It’s not dark enough for ’em yet. Most of the bastards can’t come out while the sun’s still hangin’ around.’

  ‘My goodness!’ Kyle exclaimed. ‘Do vampires explode into flames when you shoot them, too?’

  Rex seemed surprised and a little irritated by the monk’s lack of knowledge about the undead, and he was struggling to hide it.

  ‘How come you two monks don’t seem to know about all this shit? You should know more about this shit than I do. You’re the ones that’ve come here to find the Eye of the Moon. Do you even know why these fuckers are after the Eye?’

  ‘Father Taos never mentioned anything about this, did he, Kyle?’ confessed Peto.

  ‘No, he didn’t. I think we need to tell him about it, too. Perhaps we require more than just the two of us to retrieve the Eye.’

  ‘There’s just two of you? Fucksake, don’t you guys ever learn?’ groaned an increasingly irritated Rex.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Kyle.

  ‘I mean last fuckin’ time. Last time the Eye was taken there were only three monks that came. I met two of ‘em. I only heard about the third, never laid eyes on him, but it was the third one that survived and took the Eye back to Hubal, right? You do know all this, don’t you? Tell me you know all this.’

  ‘Yes, we know this part,’ answered Kyle. ‘Five years ago our brothers Milo and Hezekiah were sent to retrieve the Eye. They failed in their mission, but Father Taos then came alone and retrieved it. By himself.’

  ‘Bullshit!’ bellowed Rex, in a tone of utter disgust. Several people at nearby tables looked up, and then wisely decided to look away again. ‘I bet your friend Father Taos told you all that crap, didn’t he?’

  ‘It’s not crap, thank you.’

  ‘It fuckin’ is, too. The real story is that a guy called the Bourbon Kid had the Eye but your friends Milo and Hezekiah confronted him and got it back. Then your fuckin’ Father Taos comes along, kills Milo and Hezekiah, takes the fuckin’ stone for himself and, by the sound of it, fucks off back to Hubal and takes all the credit. Fuckin’ scumbag.’

  ‘That can’t be true,’ said Peto. ‘Tell him, Kyle. Father Taos would never do something like that. He’s the most decent and honest man in the entire world. Isn’t he, Kyle?’

  ‘I would certainly like to think so,’ said Kyle carefully. ‘However, two minutes ago I didn’t believe that people burst into flames and turned to ash on being shot. I am beginning to think, Peto, that we don’t know all that we should. It is time we opened our minds and accepted that, just maybe, not all of the things we’ve been taught to believe are actually absolutely true.’

  For a moment, Peto was left speechless. He was astonished that Kyle could possibly suggest that anything they had learnt in Hubal could be other than completely true. Yet he respected Kyle, and trusted him implicitly, so he took on board what his older and wiser friend had said, albeit grudgingly.

  ‘Does that mean that it could be all right to drink alcohol, then?’ he asked.

  ‘Will you shut up about that?’

  ‘Give the man a goddam break, will ya?’ Rex interjected. ‘Here. Try some of my beer. You’ll like it.’

  ‘No he won’t,’ Kyle said quickly, holding out an arm to stop Rex from passing the drink to Peto. ‘Look, Rex,’ he went on earnestly, ‘we really do appreciate your assistance, but offering him strong drink isn’t going to help us. Is there anything else you know that might be of use to us?’

  Rex took a deep breath through his nostrils. He didn’t much care for Kyle’s tone, but he stayed calm. Leaning back in his chair, he pulled a soft packet of cigarettes from the top pocket of his waistcoat and offered one to Peto, who had the good sense to decline.

  ‘You two know anything about a girl who just came out of a coma? Been in it five years, they say.’

  ‘No. Should we?’ asked Kyle.

  ‘I’d say so. Go to Sanchez’s bar, the Tapioca. He knows all about her. In fact, she might even be in there when you show up.’

  ‘What’s so special about her?’ Peto asked.

  ‘She just came out of a coma after five years, you dumb fuck. Don’t you fuckin’ listen?’

  ‘Well, yes. Yes, I do. But what does that have to do with anything?’

  Sighing heavily, Rex ignited a small match by scraping it along the table, then used it to light a cigarette. He took a long, slow, hard drag on it, so that the end glowed brightly. Then he blasted the smoke back out through his nostrils and leaned forward, as if he had a secret to pass on that he wanted no one else to hear.

  ‘She was in a coma,’ he said, ‘because the Bourbon Kid couldn’t kill her, no matter how hard he tried. S’far as anyone knows, she’s the only person he ever tried to kill that didn’t die. I’d say there’s somethin’ pretty special about that, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘So does that mean she’s one of the undead?’ asked Kyle.

  ‘I don’t know what the fuck she is,’ Rex went on. ‘And from what Sanchez says, she doesn’t know what, or who, she is, either. She could be a total crazy, but she’s claimin’ she’s got amnesia.’

  ‘I see. That is interesting,’ said Kyle thoughtfully. ‘Maybe we should go and find her now, Peto.’

  ‘I’d get skids under my ass if I were you,’ Rex suggested. ‘It’s gettin’ dark. The vampires will be out lookin’ for you guys. I reckon Peto made quite an impression in that boxing ring ‘fore I arrived. You guys need to be a little more discreet. You know, it’s fuckin’ obvious to anyone that y
ou’re monks. The undead will be swarming round you like flies. Best you get goin’. I’ll catch up with you sometime tomorrow.’

  ‘Okay. Shall we arrange to meet somewhere?’ Kyle asked.

  ‘Yeah. In Sanchez’s bar. Tomorrow. Just before the eclipse. Unless you’ve already got the Eye back, in which case I suggest you get the hell outta town with it before it’s too late.’

  Kyle and Peto were glad to have Rodeo Rex as an ally. They thanked him once more for the information he had provided (even though they were not altogether convinced of its authenticity), then headed back into town to see if they could find the girl he had spoken of. The one who had just come out of a coma.

  Thirty-Eight

  Jensen had been slowly sipping a giant mug of hot chocolate while waiting for Somers in the Olé Au Lait coffee bar. He was sitting at the counter on his own, admiring the all-round cleanliness of the place. Hygiene in places that served food and drink, he learned, was a rare thing to find in Santa Mondega, so it was an unexpected pleasure just to be able to admire the clean polished wooden tables and the shiny varnished marble surface of the bar counter.

  Almost twenty minutes passed before Somers actually turned up. Jensen had been trying to contact him ever since leaving the library, and had left countless messages on his partner’s cellphone explaining that he had some information. Somers had only returned his call at about half past three, and had been brief to the point of curtness. ‘Meet me in the Olé Au Lait coffee bar on Cinnamon Street at eight o’clock’ was all he had said, before hanging up.

  For once, Jensen had actually been sitting in his hotel room, relaxing, when Somers had called. He was more than happy to come out and meet his new partner, because the only thing he had found on TV worth watching was an old re-run of Happy Days. It wasn’t a good one, either; for some reason Robin Williams was in it as the character Mork from the Mork and Mindy show. This was not the sort of supernatural being that Jensen was looking for, so a hot drink and some intelligent conversation with Somers was just what he needed.

  Somers was easily identifiable when he walked in. He was wearing a long, heavy grey trench coat over his usual dark suit, smart white shirt and grey tie. Everyone else in the Olé Au Lait was dressed very casually, including Miles Jensen, who had opted for a pair of black chinos and a light blue open-necked shirt.

  ‘What can I get you?’ Jensen asked as his uptight partner approached him at the bar.

  ‘I’ll have a black-two-sugars, please, Sarah,’ the other called over Jensen’s head to the pretty young girl behind the counter.

  ‘I gotta hand it to you, Somers. You picked a real lively place here,’ quipped Jensen.

  Coffee bars were not exactly the lifeblood of the Santa Mondega economy, so they were never packed out wall to wall. The Olé Au Lait was one of the more popular of these establishments, but even so there were probably no more than ten people in the entire place, and that included staff.

  ‘Well, I don’t enjoy mixing with other people, do I?’ grumbled Somers. ‘Here, let’s take a seat over there.’ He pointed to a table not far from the counter. There was no one else within earshot of the table so it was a fairly logical choice for two detectives who wanted to discuss a case. ‘Sarah, bring my coffee over, will you?’

  They made their way over to the small round wooden table and sat down facing each other.

  ‘I’ve been trying to phone you all afternoon,’ Jensen began. ‘Why haven’t you been taking my calls?’

  ‘Time is not on our side, Jensen. Have you found out anything about the book yet?’

  ‘That’s what I was trying to call you about. I checked out the library. One of the staff there says that a man fitting the description of the Bourbon Kid came in asking about the book this morning. Seems he’d been there before, too. He knows that Annabel de Frugyn has it, but rather typically there’s still no address for anyone of that name. All I found out is that she lives in a trailer and never stays in the same place twice.’

  ‘That’s interesting,’ said Somers.

  ‘Ain’t helpful, though, is it? If the Bourbon Kid knows she has the book and is already on her tail, she could be dead by now.’

  Somers sighed. ‘If she even exists.’

  ‘Look, Somers, maybe it’s time we told Captain Rockwell about all this and enlisted his help in tracking her down?’ Jensen suggested.

  ‘I think he might already know.’

  ‘No way! How could he? I’ve only just found out.’

  Somers took a look to his left and then to his right before leaning over to Jensen and speaking in a hushed voice. ‘For the same reason I haven’t been taking your calls. Our office has been bugged. I found a small recording device hidden under your desk, and another one inside my desk phone.’

  ‘What?’ Jensen felt a cold shiver run right through him. ‘You think the Captain is spying on us? That’s outrageous! I’ll have him up on charges.’

  ‘Calm down, for Chrissakes. I figure from now on we just don’t discuss stuff in the office. If we let on that we know the office is bugged then we lose any advantage we might have. Let them think we’ve found out nothing about the case so far. That way they can’t go on in ahead of us and mess up our investigation. Let’s use this to our advantage. From now on we meet in coffee shops like this.’

  ‘Okay. Good idea. Bastards.’

  ‘You might want to check your hotel, too. Maybe they’ve had your room bugged as well.’

  ‘Shit,’ Jensen shook his head in frustration. ‘Anything else I should know about?’

  ‘Actually, yeah,’ Somers sat back. ‘I questioned a guy name of Jericho this afternoon. He’s an old informant of mine. Not particularly trustworthy – only half of what he says is even half true, but that’s by the by.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Jensen, eager to hear what Somers had prised out of Jericho.

  ‘Well, Jericho was with the guy Rusty who was shot dead the other day by the two monks. Our man was lucky enough to get away with just a bullet in the leg.’

  ‘Right.’ Jensen was interested. Somers had grabbed his attention. This guy Jericho could prove to be a good lead. ‘So what does he know?’

  ‘Well, he claims that the two monks were looking for a bounty hunter named Jefe.’

  ‘Jefe, huh? You ever heard of him?’

  ‘Yeah, I heard of him. He’s a real nasty piece of work.’

  ‘Isn’t everyone here?’ Jensen mocked, slurping another mouthful of his hot chocolate.

  ‘Yeah, but this guy’s worse than most. Thing is, though, Jericho was in Sanchez’s bar, the Tapioca, when he got shot by the monks. Now he claims that after the monks left, this Jefe guy came into the bar, and he was looking for a man called El Santino.’

  Jensen started. ‘That’s the second time today I’ve heard that name. You know him?’

  ‘Everybody knows him.’

  ‘Well I don’t.’

  ‘That’s ’cos you’re not everybody. You’re nobody.’

  ‘True enough,’ Jensen replied good-humouredly. So who is El Santino, and what did Jefe want with him?’

  Somers sat back a moment as the pretty young waitress arrived with an oversized mug of coffee. He took it directly from her hand and sniffed the contents. After sucking the aroma deep into his lungs he placed the mug on the table and pulled a five-dollar bill from his trouser pocket.

  ‘Keep the change, sweetness,’ he said, tucking the money into the front pocket of Sarah’s apron. She turned and walked off without a word. ‘Where was I?’ he continued.

  ‘El Santino.’

  ‘Right. Of course. El Santino practically runs this town. He’s the biggest gangster around. Small fry outside of Santa Mondega, but big fish inside it. It’s long been rumoured that he covets the Eye of the Moon. It’s said that he was willing to pay a few thousand for it last time it came into town. Thing is, El Santino, big man though he is, doesn’t like to take risks with his own life, so it’s not often you see him in town. He only ever seems
to come out at night.’

  ‘Vampire, possibly?’ Jensen suggested.

  ‘Well, he’s as good a candidate as any,’ Somers went on. ‘But see here: El Santino pays other people to do his dirty work for him. It was thought that he paid this guy Ringo to steal the Eye five years ago.’

  ‘Ringo? Why do I think I should know that name?’

  ‘Because Ringo did steal the Eye of the Moon five years ago, but then he got shot to bits by the Bourbon Kid and El Santino never got his hands on it. But our man Jericho reckons El Santino hired Jefe to get the Eye for him this time, and he wants it delivered before the eclipse.’

  ‘So Jefe has the Eye of the Moon, then?’

  ‘Nuh-uh,’ Somers wagged a finger at Jensen, shaking his head at the same time. ‘Nope. Apparently Jefe got drunk with none other than Marcus the Weasel the night before the Weasel was killed.’

  Jensen’s eyes opened wide. ‘So when we suspected earlier that the Weasel robbed this Jefe guy, we were probably right?’ he asked.

  ‘Without a doubt. The Weasel checked into the Santa Mondega International under the name Jefe, using Jefe’s ID.’

  ‘This all kinda ties up, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yep. The Weasel robs Jefe. The porter and his girlfriend rob the Weasel. Then Elvis turns up, kills the Weasel but finds no Eye. So he goes looking for the porter to find the Eye. That’s when he gets killed … by the Bourbon Kid.’

  ‘Who may or may not be the porter, Dante.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Shit, Somers, that’s good work. You had time to plan our next move, or what?’

  Somers took a sip of coffee and swilled it around his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing it. Jensen likewise took a swig of his rapidly cooling chocolate and waited for Somers to respond.