by Jochen Til
I thought about it. »Hmm … Perhaps that would indeed be the best solution. Now that he’s invisible, he could even get lucky one day and succeed in sneaking up on me.«
»There’s no need to worry about that,« said Dr. Jekyll. »By tomorrow at the latest, he’ll be visible to everyone again. I was careful to mix the serum so that the effect wouldn’t last long.«
»Oh, I see!« I declined the offer: »In that case there’s no need to worry. We can just leave him here.«
»I won’t make things too easy for him though,« said Jack. »You have to imagine me grinning from ear to ear right now.«
He collected up all of Van Helsing’s clothes.
»This should be a warning to him, I think,« he said. »Let’s go.«
We were in luck and soon found a taxi to drive us to the airport. We accompanied the doctor to his plane and wished him farewell.
»So, what now?« Jack asked me as we left the airport buildings. »What are your plans? Do you have anything else to do here in Cairo?«
»As it happens, no,« I said. »But I am in urgent need of somewhere to sleep. The sun will be up in half an hour.«
»No problem.« Jack put his arm around my shoulder. »You can come back to my hotel. And when you’re properly rested this evening, we’ll chat about your future.«
»My future?« I repeated, looking at him in amazement.
»Ever thought about becoming a secret agent?« Jack asked. »We could really use someone like you in the SIS. Working with you has been fun. As an invisible man and a flying vampire, we’d make an unbeatable team. We could save the world together. So, what do you say? Would you be interested?«
As for my answer, well, I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.
»Yes you can!« Beenie says. »Tell us, Grandpa! I want to know!«
»But it’s obvious,« Vira smiles.
I wink at her.
»Huh, how’s it obvious?« Rhesus asks. »Nothing’s obvious. Is Grandpa a secret agent now or not?«
»Well, if he wasn’t, he’d have been able to tell us his answer,« explains Vira. »But as a secret agent, he’s not ever allowed to tell. Get it?«
»Seriously?« Rhesus asks in amazement. »You’re a secret agent, Grandpa?«
»Was,« I say. »I was a secret agent. One of the best that SIS ever had – you would know them as MI6 these days. But that was a long time ago. I retired almost twenty years back, along with Jack. Unfortunately, being invisible didn’t protect him against aging. But the golden age of espionage was long over, anyway. When the Cold War with Russia ended, there was hardly any work for spies like us. But before that, we had a great time and lots of adventures. We had assignments on every continent and saved the world at least four times. I’m still very grateful to Jack for that. He was the best partner you could have wished for. I’ll never forget him.«
»Is Jack still alive?« Vira asks.
»I’m afraid I don’t know,« I answer. »After our last job together, we lost touch completely.«
»No way!« says Rhesus. »Grandpa the secret agent! That must have been cool. Did you bump off any werewolves?«
»No,« I answer. »Why should secret agents be bumping off werewolves?«
»Er, because they’re evil,« says Rhesus.
»How do you know that?« I ask him.
»Everyone knows that,« says Rhesus. »You learn that in first grade.«
»Even I know that,« says Beenie. »We learned it in kindergarten. If a werewolf comes, you have to run really fast and call for help.«
»I’d just shoot him down,« says Rhesus.
»Oh yes? What with?« Vira retorts. »Your big mouth?«
»Yes, but seriously now,« I say to Rhesus. »Have you ever seen a werewolf?«
»Sure, just now. I saw him right in my crosshairs,« says Rhesus with a laugh.
»That’s not funny,« I say. »That could have been my very best friend, Archibald.«
Rhesus looks up from his phone and stares at me in disbelief.
»Your very best friend is a werewolf?« he asks. »I don’t believe you, you’re pulling our legs. No vampire is friends with a werewolf. It’s not possible.«
»Well, let’s see if it’s possible.« I reach for the photo album. »I’ll show you.«
I flip through the pages. There must be a photo of Archibald somewhere, surely. Farther back, probably. Ah, there it is.
»Here, see for yourself,« I say, showing the children the photo. »This is Archibald and me.«
»He doesn’t look very evil,« Beenie says.
»Because he isn’t,« I say. »On the contrary. I’ve never met a more likable person.«
»There he is again!« Beenie exclaims, pointing to another photo. »He looks super smart, dressed up in a suit!«
»Yes,« I say, and I can’t help smiling. »That was in Germany, the time we met in Hamburg. He was always well-dressed. And he even started an international trend with that suit.«
»What’s a trend?« Beenie asks.
»It’s when everyone copies what you wear,« explains Vira.
»Oh, I know about that from kindergarten,« says Beenie. »I wore my new green dress and the next day, Viola had one exactly the same, silly copycat. Trends are dumb.«
»I’d never copy anything a werewolf did,« Rhesus mutters.
»You don’t have to,« I say. »But equally, you don’t have to go thinking that werewolves are necessarily evil. Archibald wasn’t, at any rate. And he nearly became world famous – in a good way, not as a bad guy.«
»Oh, that sounds exciting!« cries Beenie. »Tell us the whole story, Grandpa!«
»I’d love to.« I lean back. »This is one of my favorite stories. So listen up …«
It was May 1962, and Jack and I had just finished an assignment in Germany. I liked Hamburg so, on the spur of the moment, I decided to stay in the city for another couple of days while Jack flew to Hawaii for his annual vacation, which he’d definitely earned.
The 1960s were a thrilling decade, especially when it came to music. I’d discovered rock ’n’ roll and I was crazy for it. So much so that I’d bought myself a guitar and practiced every day. I dreamed of playing in a famous band one day. Until I was good enough for that, I contented myself with going to see others perform. A vampire’s natural rhythms were tailor-made for that era because the bands mainly performed at night, so you really weren’t missing anything if you slept all day like I did. And so, evening after evening, I plunged into Hamburg’s nightlife, where rock ’n’ roll bands played in little cellar clubs on every street corner. I soon had a favorite, the Star-Club in St. Pauli, where I spent every night from then on. It always hosted seven different bands, even including some from Britain. One of those English groups was called The Beatles and it wasn’t long before they were my all-time favorite band. When The Beatles played, we all danced until we were exhausted. And the four boys from Liverpool were really nice too. Before and after their performances, they sat in the crowd with us and watched the other bands.
I’d soon made friends with John, Paul, George, and Pete. They were a very wild bunch, all around twenty years old. It wasn’t unusual for me to be out on the town with them until the early hours of the morning. I got along best with Paul and George – we talked about music all the time and George even taught me a few new chords on the guitar. Pete and John were a bit wilder, especially John, who got himself into a few situations where we had to rescue him. One night, he and Pete picked a fight with a couple of sailors on the street called the Reeperbahn, and things turned ugly. The sailors had the upper hand for sure. Paul, George, and I somehow managed to pull the two of them away and we ran. The sailors chased us halfway across the neighborhood, but in the end we managed to lose them somewhere near the Star-Club. The boys were staying in a back room at the club. It might not have been very comfortable, but it was at least convenient because it gave them access to the club at any time. We had to slip in through the back door because the place was already closed, with the chairs up
on the tables. The only other person still up was a young man sweeping the floor. The lads got themselves another drink from behind the bar and we were about to make ourselves comfortable on the edge of the stage when Pete suddenly groaned with pain as he opened a bottle.
»You okay, Pete?« Paul asked in concern.
»No,« Pete answered. »I’ve done something to my hand. It really hurts when I move it.«
»Then don’t move it,« said John, laughing the loudest at his own joke.
»That’s not funny,« Pete said, his face serious. »I think I’ve sprained it.«
Pete stood up and sat behind the drums. He picked up the sticks and tried to play, but after just two beats he grimaced with pain and had to stop.
»Forget it,« he said. »I can’t play tomorrow at any rate.«
»Hell,« said George. »This is a catastrophe. What are we going to do now? If we don’t play, we’re fired, that’s in our contract.«
»We have a contract?« John asked in amazement.
»Something like that,« said Paul. »I remember signing something on a napkin some time.«
»So what are we going to do?« George asked. »We can’t get a new drummer by tomorrow. At least, not one who knows our songs and can play them. Unless you can think of anyone?«
All four heads turned toward me expectantly.
I could hardly believe my luck. My bad luck. The Beatles, my absolute favorite band, were wondering if I could play with them – and like an idiot, I’d picked the wrong instrument.
»You can’t imagine how sorry I am,« I sighed. »But I can only strum a few guitar chords. Even if it was John who’d sprained his wrist, I wouldn’t be nearly good enough to play with you.«
»That’s a shame,« said George. »Could’ve been great. What now? If we don’t find a drummer by tomorrow evening, we’re out of here.«
»I could fill in,« said a voice from behind the bar.
We turned around. It was the boy with the broom. None of us had ever paid much attention to him before. He was always there, looking after all kinds of things at the club. Sometimes he served drinks and other times he swept the floor. He was always there, but we didn’t even know his name. His appearance was very nondescript – he was on the small side, had a somewhat shaggy hairstyle and an inconspicuous face.
»It wouldn’t be a problem,« he continued. »I play the drums and I know all your songs by heart.«
»Really?« John asked skeptically. »You don’t look like a drummer.«
»Don’t be fooled by my appearance.« The boy grinned. »If I sit behind the drums tomorrow evening, you won’t recognize me. I won’t disappoint you, I promise you that. It’ll be a massive hit, guaranteed.«
John laughed. »What d’you reckon?«
He looked at the others.
»We’ve got no choice,« said George.
»Yeah,« Paul agreed. »It’s our only option. Let’s try it.«
»Okay, you’re hired,« John said. »What’s your name, anyway?«
»Archibald,« answered the boy. »Archibald Ferguson. But you can call me Archie.«
»Hmm,« said John thoughtfully. »John, Paul, George, and Archie? That sounds all right.«
»Hey, cool it!« Pete complained. »I’m not dead, just sprained my hand. Besides, you don’t even know if he can really play.«
»That’s true,« said Paul, pointing to the drums. »How about a little taster, Archie?«
»Er … that’s … I’m afraid that won’t work.« Archie squirmed. »I’m not … I can’t show you until tomorrow. I have to … get ready. But don’t worry, it will definitely work out, you definitely won’t regret it. Besides, I have to finish the cleaning now. See you tomorrow evening.«
Without another word, he vanished through the door behind the bar.
»Funny chap,« said Pete.
He certainly was. Something wasn’t right about Archie and it had nothing to do with music. I could feel that, but I didn’t want to worry the boys so I didn’t say anything.
»I know what’s wrong with him!« Beenie bursts out. »He’s a werewolf!«
»We’ve known that for ages, silly,« groans Rhesus. »Grandpa told us that right at the start.«
»Oh yeah,« Beenie says. »I’d forgotten.«
»No spoilers either,« Vira reminds her. »It’s mean to give away something exciting that’s going to happen in a story.«
»I didn’t!« Beenie says. »That was Grandpa! Did you hear that, Grandpa? Vira said you’re mean!«
»That’s not what I said,« Vira replies. »I only said it’s mean to give away what’s going to happen. But of course Grandpa can do that because he’s the one telling the story.«
»Are the Beagles werewolves too?« Beenie asks.
»Beagles are dogs,« explains Vira. »Grandpa’s talking about The Beatles. And they aren’t werewolves, they’re super-famous musicians.«
Rhesus frowns. »They can’t be that famous. I’ve never heard of them.«
»You only listen to V-pop,« Vira groans, rolling her eyes.
»What pop?« I’m out of my depth again.
»It stands for vampire pop,« Vira explains. »It comes from Asia. And it all sounds the same – boring.«
»Does not,« replies Rhesus. »There’s loads of differences. And anyway, it’s much better than all the old stuff Grandpa always listens to.«
»Well, I like Grandpa’s old stuff,« says Beenie. »It’s nice to dance to.«
I smile. »Then you’ll like The Beatles too. And they definitely weren’t werewolves. Even if John acted like one sometimes.«
»Go on, Grandpa,« Vira demands. »I want to know if this Archie really could play drums.«
»Or if he just ate those Beatles,« Rhesus adds. »You can’t trust werewolves; they’re mean enough for anything.«
»They are not,« I reply. »Although we weren’t sure at first if we could trust him.«
Of course, I went back to the Star-Club the next evening and I was nervous about whether playing together with Archie would work out or not.
I deliberately went a little early, even though the band who was on before The Beatles didn’t interest me. The place wasn’t yet full when I arrived; the four boys were sitting at a table and looking anything but cheerful. Pete’s hand was bandaged and he clearly wouldn’t be able to drum that evening.
»Hi,« I greeted them. »You don’t look very happy. What’s wrong?«
»Archie hasn’t showed up yet,« Paul said.
»And we’re on in ten minutes,« George sighed.
»Looks like we haven’t got a drummer this evening after all,« said John.
»He might still come,« I said, trying to sound encouraging, even though I wasn’t holding out any great hopes myself.
»I don’t think so.« Paul stood up. »I don’t know how, but we’ll just have to play our songs without drums.«
The three of them went backstage to get ready and Pete stayed sitting at the table with me.
The other band played their last encore and then the three Beatles took the stage – there was still no sign of Archie. John, Paul, and George plugged their guitars into the amplifier and John stepped up to the microphone.
»Hi!« he greeted the audience. »We’re The Beatles, from Liverpool. Our drummer hurt his hand yesterday, so today we’ve got to …«
At that moment, somebody walked onto the stage from the back and sat down behind the drums. All the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. A murmur ran through the audience. John, Paul, and George turned around. What they saw, what we all saw, was so surprising that there wasn’t a sound except for a little feedback from Paul’s amp. Everyone seemed frozen, holding their breath. Sitting behind the drums was a wolf in a suit, and he looked seriously cool. I was probably the only person who realized that the wolf was Archie, and that he was a werewolf. I realized that because first, my natural flight reflex kicked in. Second, on the way over, I’d seen the perfectly round, full moon shining in the sky. Like all vampires, I’d had it drilled
into me from an early age that werewolves are evil and our archenemies, so the first thing I looked for was the exit.
The thought »There’s a werewolf up there« kept rattling around in my brain. »You have to get out of here right now.« But something kept me rooted to the spot. Archie was grinning from ear to ear; his hairy face radiated pure joy. I realized I wasn’t the least bit afraid of him.
»One, two, three, four!« he shouted, counting his bandmates in.
And that was the beginning of the best Beatles concert of all time. Archie was a truly sensational drummer – the other boys noticed that at once. You would never have known that this was the very first time the four had played together. Every song was perfect, and the audience cheered and whooped with enthusiasm.
The only person in the room who didn’t look happy was Pete, who was afraid – with good reason – of losing his job as The Beatles’ drummer.
The performance only came to an end after seven encores, and the boys were completely exhausted. If it had been up to their fans, they would have played on all night, but Archie had been so excited, he’d half destroyed the drums during the last song and this brought the concert to a reluctant end.
Pete and I followed the boys backstage, where the other three were already heaping praise and congratulations on Archie.
»That was fantastic, Archie!« said John. »I can’t remember when I last had that much fun performing.«
»Yes, just amazing!« George clapped Archie on the shoulder.
»And your suit!« Paul gushed. »It looks so cool! Maybe we should all wear suits like that next time we play.«
»Oh, I’m really looking forward to tomorrow now!« John was in high spirits. »You will play with us again, won’t you, Archie?«
»I … Um, well … You know …« stammered Archie. »The thing is … Unfortunately, I can only play the drums that well once a month. So I’m afraid you’ll have to find someone else for tomorrow.«