The door at the end of the hall was guarded by a constable, who nodded and opened the door as Davies approached.
“In here,” Davies said to Tim, and stepped through. Tim followed.
It was a small staff room with an oval conference table and chairs on the perimeter. One end of the room had a projection screen. White boards covered the walls. The other end had a service table with a coffee pot, cups, sugar, and tea bags. Nearby, a sleeping man in an orderly’s uniform was nestled on a row of NHS waiting room chairs.
“This is where they do staff briefing and such,” Davies explained to Tim before turning his attention to the slumbering man. “Harris, wake up.”
The orderly opened his eyes and raised his head to greet his visitors.
Davies shut the door. “This is Tim…”
“Clarke,” Tim finished. “Flight Lieutenant Tim Clarke.”
“Flight Lieutenant Tim Clarke,” Davies echoed, as if to commit the name and rank to memory. “He’s a part of this investigation. Task force, I guess I should say. My task. He’s the force.” When no one laughed at his little quip, Davies ignored the silence and continued. “He wants to talk to you about what happened.”
“Alone, if possible,” Tim said to Davies.
The detective nodded. “He’s all yours.” Davies exited the staff room and pulled the door closed behind him.
Harris sat up and rubbed his eyes.
“Night shift,” he said apologetically. “Have to catch sleep whenever I can, you know.”
“I understand.”
Tim pulled out one of the chairs from the conference table and brought it closer to the chair Harris was sitting in.
The man stared at the emblem on Tim’s uniform. “RAF?”
“That’s right. I’m from the garrison.”
“What’s this got to do with the air force?” Harris asked.
“The garrison is part of the community,” Tim said. “The military police and the civilian police often work together.”
“You’re military police?”
It wasn’t true, but Tim didn’t dare elaborate about his assignment. Instead, he gave a half-nod that Harris could interpret however he wished.
“We sometimes get called in to help on cases like this,” Tim explained.
Harris looked as confused as he was tired. “Cases like what? I’m not even sure what’s going on.”
Tim glanced at the door. It was closed now, but it was easy to imagine someone listening in from the hallway. A constable was standing just outside, and Davies probably was as well.
He saw another door that led to some kind of annex. Though he couldn’t see into it since the door was closed, he guessed it was a kitchenette.
Tim turned his attention back to Harris who seemed to be more alert now. “What do you remember about this morning?”
“I must have stepped outside for some fresh air. That’s what I remember. I know I was on duty, but it’s good to get outside sometimes, you know?” He rubbed the back of his neck, massaging it. His head hung low as he looked down at the beige carpet, squinting. His mouth formed a tight grimace. “That’s all I have,” he said with finality, and glanced up with a look that seemed like a plea for help.
“Do you remember how long you were outside before you came back in?”
Harris shrugged. “Couple minutes, I suppose. Can’t really say, to be honest.”
Tim could read the doubt and confusion in the man’s eyes. He’d seen that look before, many times.
He was compelled.
Tim lowered his voice. “Listen, Harris. I’d like to offer you my help if you want it. Do you?”
“I suppose.” His voice quivered with anxiety. “What do I have to do?”
“I need you to keep a low profile.”
“Low profile?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. But what do you mean, exactly.”
“Don’t talk to anyone else about what happened this morning.”
“I don’t know what happened this morning.”
“That’s good. But I need you to do more than that. Don’t talk about this to your friends or the staff. People are going to ask you questions, but you don’t know anything, so there’s nothing to say.”
“What about the police?”
“Cooperate with the police as much as you can. But I’m here to help you, Harris. Do you understand?”
The man looked into Tim’s face and seemed to trust him. “Yeah, okay.”
“Don’t read the papers. People talk, and if anything gets written up it’s all just noise. Don’t worry about the noise. And don’t let yourself get sucked into that.”
“Don’t read the paper,” the orderly repeated.
“That’s right.”
“Or watch the news?”
“There’s nothing good on the news,” Tim said. “Good things don’t make the news. I need you to focus on the good things right now. I don’t want you to worry about any of this. None of this is your responsibility. We’re dealing with it. Understood?”
That seemed to set the man’s mind at ease. His expression softened, and he nodded. “I think so.”
“Good.”
Tim stood and returned the chair to its place at the conference table.
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes. I have things to do. But I’m handling everything. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
Harris watched him moving towards the door. “Thank you,” he said meekly.
“You’re very welcome, Harris.” Tim finished crossing the room to the door, but stopped short. “Actually, there is one thing you could do for me.”
“What’s that?” the orderly asked.
“Get some sleep.”
Harris smiled and sat back down on the chair as Tim opened the door and walked out.
Outside, he found only the constable guarding the door.
“Where’s DS Davies?”
“He went back downstairs,” the constable replied. “Do you want me to call him for you?”
“No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll find him.”
Tim walked down the hall and turned the corner. He had noticed an empty conference room on his way in and saw now that it was still empty. Now was a good time to report to his supervisor, Danny. He ducked into the conference room and closed the door. He pulled out his phone and called Wing Commander Daniel Gregory.
“Tim,” said the voice on the other line. “Tell me.”
“I just talked with the orderly, a guy named Harris.”
“Okay. What have we got here?”
“Looks like another case.”
“Vampire? Werewolf?”
“Vampire would be my guess,” Tim said.
“Why?”
“It’s a hospital. The orderly had access to the blood supply in storage. The detective sergeant told me there was a theft last night from the supply room. They have Harris on tape walking out with a cooler bag. When he came back in, he didn’t have it anymore.”
“You saw the tape?”
“Not yet, but they’re going to give me a copy.”
“Okay, missing blood. That fits. What else?”
“Harris has no memory of it. He doesn’t know what he did.”
“You think he was compelled.”
“Probably.”
“Did he meet with anyone?”
“We don’t know for sure yet, but he must have,” Tim said. “I think this was a normal routine for him. Something he’d done before. Probably on a regular schedule, biweekly or monthly. I’d have to check the hospital inventory records to know for sure.”
“You do that,” Danny told him.
“I’ll delegate it. The cops need something to do. My guess is the records have been altered. If not, it would have been discovered ages ago.”
“Agreed. What about the missing person?”
“The night supervisor, Dr. Noah Morton. He must have gotten suspicious. He probably thought Harris was stealing drugs
and selling them on the black market.”
“I suppose blood is a kind of drug,” Gregory muttered dryly, “if you’re a vampire.”
“Good point. But Morton was probably thinking it was a regular drug deal. He couldn’t have known the real danger he was getting into.”
“Drug dealers can be pretty dangerous.”
“Sure,” Tim agreed. “But they don’t drain your blood or turn your own mind against you.”
Tim was pacing now, walking circles around the conference table.
“Morton was seen on video following Harris outside. They both got out of camera range, and about five minutes later Harris returns alone. Morton hasn’t been heard from since.”
“So whatever happened was in a dead spot, camera-wise.”
“Exactly,” Tim said. “Which is one of the reasons I think this was a regular thing. The customer, the vampire if that’s what he is, knew where the cameras were and avoided them. He waited in the dead spot and Harris brought the blood to him.”
“Special delivery.”
“Harris was probably his thrall, until something went wrong.”
“Morton interrupted them.”
Tim nodded reflexively.
“It’s just speculation at this point,” Tim said, “but if Morton tried to confront Harris and the vampire, that would be enough motivation to disappear him.”
“Any signs of blood outside, within walking distance of the hospital?”
“The police are searching the grounds now. Wherever the buy went down, it had to be within the perimeter of the complex. Harris didn’t go far.”
“He doesn’t remember anything?” Danny asked.
“Nothing he could tell me. I don’t think he was lying. He seemed confused and anxious—”
The door opened to reveal a smartly dressed middle-aged woman with glasses carrying a file folder. Startled, she froze in the doorway, then put a hand to her chest as if to calm her nerves.
“Sorry,” Tim said, flashing her what he hoped was a disarming smile.
Her face tightened. “We have a meeting in here in five minutes.”
“I was just heading out,” Tim told her. “Danny, I’ll call you when I learn more.”
Tim hung up, and pocketed his phone before exiting the conference room. He flashed the woman another smile, making her push her glasses up her nose and blush.
Tim found DS Davies downstairs, talking to one of his constables in the waiting room.
“Did you get anything out of him?” Davies asked.
“Nothing useful. He doesn’t remember much.”
“So he says. But that’s what they all say. We’ll give him a polygraph, find out anything we can.”
“The lawyers won’t like that.”
“May not be admissible,” replied Davies, “but even if we can’t use it in court, it may help us develop more leads. Worth a try, anyway.”
“The RAF has an interest in this,” Tim reminded him.
The detective scowled. “What sort of interest, exactly?”
“I can’t tell you exactly.”
“Classified, you mean?”
Tim nodded.
“That’s the trouble with you fellas. We give you everything, and you give us nothing.”
“It’s need to know,” Tim said. “National security. You understand. If you need to know something, you’ll be the first to know it. But there are other factors at play.”
“Seems more like a matter of hospital security than national security,” Davies observed.
Tim bobbed his head amicably. “It could be both,” he explained. “Based on what I’ve seen so far, this case may tie into other incidences in other counties.”
“A pattern?” Davies asked, raising his eyebrows. “Kidnapping ring, something like that?”
“Something like that,” Tim offered, vaguely.
Davies laughed at that. “You’re a terrible liar. Okay, fine. We’ll play it your way. Not like I have a choice, right?”
Tim smiled weakly. “Not really.”
Davies offered his hand and Tim shook it.
“I think we can do business,” said the detective sergeant, sounding more like a mobster than an agent of the law.
“You’ll be sure to let me know if you find anything else?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you. You’ve been a big help. I’ll be sure to let your chief inspector know.”
“Please do.”
Tim walked out, wondering how this new missing persons case was connected with the death of Bill Knight.
Chapter Three
Malaprop’s Bookstore, Bicester, England
The next morning, Cliff was the last to arrive at the emergency meeting. Karl and Ronnie had been waiting for nearly an hour, while Tarquin had been there since the night before. They met as usual in the small office hidden in the back of Tarquin’s antiquary bookshop.
Karl was sitting in the chair. Tarquin leaned on the edge of his desk. Ronnie sat on the cot against the wall but stood when Cliff arrived.
“What took you so long?” Ronnie asked pointedly.
The accusation put Cliff on edge. He was already feeling tense and edgy, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with any unwarranted attacks. But he couldn’t avoid this meeting. It had to be done. Cliff knew he’d screwed things up at the hospital, and now he had to face the music.
“I’m on time,” he protested. “Just because you’re early doesn’t mean I’m late.”
Karl put a cautious hand on Ronnie’s shoulder, a warning not to engage.
So Karl was the designated peacemaker today, Cliff surmised.
“We know what happened,” Ronnie said, and left it at that.
Of course there was no way they could know what really happened. They weren’t there, and Cliff hadn’t told them everything.
“Let’s keep this civil,” Karl said. “We need to deal with the problem at hand. Focus on the problem, not the blame.”
“The blame’s not really in question though, is it?” Ronnie retorted.
Tarquin sat on the edge of his desk and rocked a little, apparently moved by contemplation. “After what happened last week, we all need to be more careful.”
“Tell him what you heard,” Karl said to Tarquin.
Tarquin stood up from the desk and leaned back against the near wall to better address the other three. “The hospital orderly who was dealing the blood to Cliff has been arrested.”
“It’s not in the news,” Cliff said.
“No, I heard it from the guy’s sister.”
Karl expression revealed he hadn’t heard that last bit of information. “How do you know his sister?” he asked.
“She’s a friend. A regular at the bookshop. I’ve known her for years. I knew her brother only a little. I knew he worked at the hospital. I didn’t know he was selling blood on the black market, though. That came as quite a surprise to me. But when I heard what happened, I thought maybe he might have heard something. Given that he’s now under arrest I’m surmising that he was Cliff’s dealer.”
“Small town,” Ronnie said cynically.
“The sister knows about us?” Cliff asked.
“No, no, no,” Tarquin said. “She knows about me. In fact, she came to me last night because of the… incident.”
“Why you?” Karl asked.
“Because of the blood. When she heard about the blood going missing, she thought there might be some satanic rituals going on.” He paused, letting that sink in. “She’s an amateur.”
“Clearly,” said Karl.
Cliff exhaled, rubbing his hand over his face. “So that’s another problem, if he’s in jail.”
“A problem for you, maybe,” said Ronnie.
“For me, yes,” Cliff snapped. “I’ve lost my supplier.”
Ronnie folded his arms. “I’m surprised you didn’t kill him, at the rate you’re going,” he retorted.
“He’s alive,” Cliff reassured him, “but now he can’t help m
e. Even when he gets out of jail, which I’m sure he will soon enough, there will be too much scrutiny on him for any attempt to raid the blood supply. And even if I was willing to risk it, I didn’t have time to recompel him for the next delivery. Which means no more blood. Any contact I might have with him now would only risk stirring his memories, and he might tell the cops what he knows or thinks he knows.”
“You got your supply,” Karl pointed out.
“It won’t last. When that’s gone, no more access to packaged blood. It took me ages to find and cultivate someone with the right access, and even longer to get him alone long enough to compel him.”
Karl looked concerned. “You haven’t told us what really happened. Based on what we’ve been able to learn from spying on the cops and talking to the man’s sister, someone else from the hospital has gone missing. That hardly seems like a coincidence.”
“With Cliff,” Ronnie said dryly, “missing means dead.”
Cliff hesitated. While he knew he needed to tell them the whole truth, he didn’t need to do it at Ronnie’s request. He didn’t like the idea of doing anything at Ronnie’s request.
“Well?” Tarquin asked.
“Someone followed Harris. A man, a doctor, I think, followed him outside and confronted the two of us, demanding to know what was going on. Harris snapped out. I lost control of him. He realized what he was doing and freaked out. I had to control the situation. I had to act.”
“So you killed a frikkin’ doctor?” Ronnie exclaimed, raising his voice.
“Yes.”
The other three men reacted at once. Ronnie growled his disapproval, Tarquin shook his head, and Karl pounded his fist against the desk.
“Idiot!” Ronnie exclaimed. He took a moment to calm himself enough to ask the next question. “How did you kill him?”
“I snapped his neck.” Cliff’s face was like stone and turned defiantly on Ronnie.
“We’ve talked about this,” Tarquin said. “We cannot kill the normals. It is forbidden. More to the point, it’s dangerous. And it’s wrong.”
Tarquin had a streak of morality wider than the Thames.
“Don’t you think I know that?” Cliff retorted defensively. “That’s the whole point of buying blood. I’ve tried living off animals, and it makes me weak and sickly. I need human blood, just as much as Karl does. It’s not just for me, you know. I was buying it for the both of us. We need to feed. If not on normals, then through the black market.”
A Very British Witch Boxed Set Page 25