Morvicti Blood (A Morvicti Novel Book 1) (16 page)

“Not a chance, asshole. You’ve hurt her just by being here and posing as her dead brother.” His friend removed the picture and placed Walt Turner’s identification in its place. “Who the fuck is this guy? You? Or are you working with him?”

“I have no idea who this man is, but I can tell you that he is dead.”

“Did you kill him?”

“No.”

“We found bloody clothes in that shopping bag you were carrying. How do you explain that?”

Austin recounted everything that had happened after he came to in the underground medical-looking room. The other people on stretchers next to his. The bags of blood. Walt Turner’s head rolling to the staircase. “When I saw the photo of Angelique and me I knew I had to get to her and make sure she was safe.”

“Quite the story, Jack.”

“Jack?”

Remington brought out an envelope in an evidence bag. “My men retrieved this from your overcoat. This note was inside.” He presented the clear bag that had a single piece of paper. “Did you write this?”

“No.”

“It was in your overcoat.”

“Like I told you before. Not my overcoat.”

“But you took it with you.” Although Remington was an excellent interrogator, it was clear that he was confused and frustrated. And whatever was troubling his old friend seemed to be much more than his identity.

“Yes, I took it with me.” Austin had received the same training on how to conduct an interrogation as his friend. Remington was fishing, hoping to discover a discrepancy in his story. “I told you, Professor. I was naked and in a bit of a rush to get out.”

Remington’s eyes narrowed. Austin had never seen that look from him before.

They stared at each other in silence. What did Michael know that he wasn’t sharing?

Remington frowned. “Did you enjoy killing those women?”

“What women?”

Remington held the paper in front of him. “Tell me this isn’t your message to Dr. Thomas Wilson.”

Austin read the note.

Dear Dr. Wilson,

I hope the ladyfingers I sent let you know that I am sincere in wanting to help you with your work. You’ve been ridiculed for your hypothesis, but you and I both know that you are correct. There is a secret society that needs to be exposed. I will be leaving more gifts and messages for you and my beloved along the path of blood that will help with this endeavor.

Together, we can bring light to the darkness.

Until we meet face to face,

Jack the Ripper

“Look, Michael, I don’t know what this is about. Do you mind filling me in? Jack the Ripper died over a hundred years ago.”

“Don’t try to fuck with me, asshole.” Michael leaned over the table and got in his face. “You’re a copycat killer. You killed those two innocent women. Did you also kill Mr. Walt Turner? How many people
have
you killed?”

“You know the count as well as I do. You and I only killed in the line of duty. You were there every time, by my side.”

His friend pounded his fists on the table. “Goddamn it, you’re not Austin McCord. Stop trying to feed me that crap.”

Keeping his voice steady and low, he said, “I get it. I’m the prisoner. You’re the interrogator. Those are our roles at the moment until you can verify my identity.”

Remington stepped back from the table. “You’re slick, Jack. Very slick.”

It was plain as day that his friend remained unconvinced.

Remington tapped on the mirror. “It won’t be hard to find the holes in your ridiculous story.”

A few seconds later the door opened and another officer entered the room. “Yes, sir.”

“Harris, get a team together and check out the building on Murphy Street.”

“On it.” Harris left.

Remington took the seat opposite Austin’s chair. “I will get to the bottom of this and find out who you really are.”

“You will find out. I’m Austin McCord, Professor. You’ll see.”

Remington’s face darkened. “I buried my friend. He’s dead. You’re not him.” He stood and collected the items he’d brought with him. Then he walked to the door. “And if anyone tries to harm my wife I will put a bullet between their eyes, and that includes you.”

“That’s what I’m counting on, buddy.”

Remington’s hot gaze remained fixed on him for a few seconds, and then he left the room.

CHAPTER 28

12:30 PM

David Bathry sat in his office at Scotland Yard. The entire building’s modern-motif sickened him with its floor-to-ceiling glass walls, industrial-grade carpeting, metallic surfaces, and linear furniture. He’d considered redesigning his private office, but had decided against it. Bringing attention to the depth of his superior sensibilities was not worth the risk. He had a role to play. That was why he always donned a cheap suit when on premises.

He continued his review of the early morning feeds from every camera in and around the Murphy Street location. Even with the new information he had accumulated in the last several minutes, he wasn’t sure what his next step should be.

Two men had exited the building in question, but departed at different times.

One he knew well—
and one he did not
. The latter had left wearing the overcoat that the first man had worn when he had entered the building.

Bathry’s main concern was with the first man, the halfblood he’d liberated long ago, but he knew the second would need to be identified and dealt with as well if he was to survive this nightmare.

The cameras had lost Jack.

Bathry had run facial recognition software through the massive surveillance system, hoping to target the halfblood’s current location. But the bastard had been too smart to be found. Evading detection was just one of the man’s many specialties.

“Are you all right, sir?” a high-pitched voice asked. He hadn’t even seen Gloria standing in the doorway.

He looked down. Unknowingly, he had shredded his paper cup into pieces; its remains covered the top of his desk.

The bitch had failed to follow his explicit request of bringing his morning drink in his favorite cup, an artistic piece he’d commissioned from a renowned Berlin-based porcelain manufacturer. Having to keep up the ruse of being less than he really was, the cup was the one luxury David allowed himself at this hellhole.

“Gloria, was there some reason that you brought my coffee in this?” He pointed to the paper debris.

She trembled. “I’m so sorry, sir. I accidentally knocked your cup off the shelf this morning. I will buy you a new one.”

“Not necessary.” He failed to keep his tone civil. How could he when at this very moment he was imagining what Gloria would look like with her body sliced to ribbons?

“More…coffee?” she asked in a wary voice.

He plastered on a large smile. “Thank you dear, no. Mustn’t overdo it this morning, ha.”

She smiled weakly in return, and then backed away.

Imbeciles. Complete imbeciles surround me.

He turned his attention back to the monitor. The second man had come out less than a half hour after the first. He had spoken with a lovely woman with a large dog. As quickly as possible, Bathry locked in on the man’s features, sending them through the facial recognition program, which had been developed by a bloodliner in the United States to protect the Morvicti. Every member assigned to any military, police, or security organization around the globe had access to the sensitive software.

The second man had begun walking down the street when a third man in a dark suit appeared.

Bathry paused the video, staring at the image of Poole frozen on his monitor. This man was someone he had to deal with, though carefully. Poole wasn’t a Bathry. The man’s veins carried the blood of his enemies. Poole was a Drake.
Belisarius Drake, the cousin of Octavian.

Keeping the hatred secret was part of the ancient vow Bathry had sworn to uphold.

He started the video, watching again as the unknown man jumped into a blue van. “Who are you? And why is Poole interested in you?”
One way to find out.
He signed into the secure database, quickly checking the recent reports from the field.

It took less than a minute to find the one he was looking for.

“Approximately 9:20 AM, an armed man hijacked a driver and his delivery van on Baylis Road. Forced driver to take him across Waterloo Bridge. Suspect took the driver’s mobile phone. Disappeared on foot near Lancaster Place.”

The report, which had been entered on site on a PDA, went on with a description, but Bathry already knew what the man looked like. What to do with this information, especially since Poole had been closing in on the man before he had commandeered the delivery van?

If Bathry could get to the man before Poole or any other Drake he would have much-needed leverage. He also could interrogate the gunman and find out his true identity.
Plus, the man might be able to lead me to the bastard whose overcoat he was wearing when he got into the van.

With just a few keystrokes, he modified the report the officer had filed with three words: “Possible Ripper Sighting.”

That was everything he needed to get an all-ports warning out on the mystery man. It served him very well for at least three reasons.

One, his boss, Commissioner Kevin Taylor, had been looking for any evidence that would turn The Ripper murder case over to his jurisdiction.
Greedy bastard.
Since Gail Simmons and Nancy Black had been killed in the center of the city, it fell to the City of London Police rather than the Met to lead the investigation.

Two, it took the heat off the real Ripper, whom Bathry wanted to find before the police or the Imperial Morvicti Council did.

Three, he would get someone in custody who was important to Poole—and likely the entire Drake Bloodline.

He would have loved to keep this from Poole, but he knew that would not be advantageous to his survival. He had to appear loyal, no matter how sickening it made him feel. And in less than two hours he would have to simper and bow some more while that odious leader of the Drakes prodded around in his domain.
But not for much longer.

He rang Poole.

CHAPTER 29

1:30 PM

Austin watched the door to his cell swing open.

Remington rushed in. “Damn McCord. I don’t know how in the world this is possible but it really is you.”

Glad to see the look of relief in his old friend’s eyes, Austin smiled. “In the flesh. Just like I told you, Professor.”

Remington unlocked his handcuffs. “Shit, this is crazy.”

“The craziest I’ve ever been through, and that’s saying a lot.” He rubbed his wrists. “You and I have been through a ton of crazy.”

Remington nodded. “That’s the truth, buddy.”

“I’m so glad you survived our last mission in Iraq.”

“I only survived because of you, Austin. You took that second bullet for me.”

“If I’d been faster, you wouldn’t have gotten shot in the arm by the first one.”

His friend gave him a big brotherly hug. “God, I still can’t believe this is you. I thought you were dead. You weren’t breathing. There was no heartbeat. How in the hell is this possible?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out, buddy.” He stood and stretched. “It sure feels good to be out of that damn chair.”

“Sorry about this. I just had to be sure.”

“I would have done the same if I were in your shoes.” Austin placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Tell me what happened after the sniper shot me.”

“When I was leaning over you, you mumbled something about Angelique. I couldn’t make it out. Then Nelson said you were gone. No pulse.”

“What about the rest of our team?”

“You and I were the only ones who got shot. The mission was a success. The senator’s nephew was rescued. Nelson pulled me away from you to treat my injury. We thought you were dead.”

“I should have been.” He still didn’t have a clue how he’d survived. Would he ever find an answer as to why his heart still beat? Why there was no scar? “Do you know who the last person was with me before I supposedly died?”

“Lieutenant Davis.”

My old friend.
“What happened to the lieutenant after the mission?”

Remington shook his head. “I never saw him again, though I did get a couple of letters from him. He had planned on attending your funeral service, but something in his personal life came up that kept him away. The lieutenant did send flowers and a letter to Angelique.”