Redlaw - 01 (34 page)

“And you’re surprised by this why?” said Redlaw. “Men like Lambourne don’t care about those beneath them. To them, everyone is the same—malleable, expendable.”

“I know. I know. I was just too stupid—too naïve maybe—to realise it. I was his fire-and-forget missile and I’m worth nothing to him any more. I had a confrontation with him this evening about it. We argued on the phone. What he said, his whole attitude towards me, simply confirmed how little he thinks of me. Shit on the sole of his shoe would get more respect. His mistake, however, is he’s underestimated me.”

Slocock flexed his fists.

“You don’t dump me like that and think you can get away with it,” he said. “You’re making a serious error of judgement if you do. I don’t care how rich and powerful you are, fuck with Giles Slocock, prepare to suffer. I’ve never backed down from a challenge. The bigger you are, the harder you fall. Nathaniel Lambourne’s gone from being my patron to being top of my shit list. I used to be proud to know him. Now I want to hang the arsehole out to dry.”

“That’s all very well,” said Redlaw, “and all very commendable. I think we can all agree that taking down Lambourne would be a wonderful thing. But, practically speaking, what can we do? This is the problem. Lambourne’s already got his way. He’s won. I’ve done the best I could, and it was no good.”

“Ah, but you see, I’ve got the dirt on him,” said Slocock. “I know stuff that he doesn’t believe I would dare use against him.”

“You mean you’d be willing to testify against him at trial?”

“Better still. I can give you good, rock-solid evidence that’s sure to put Lambourne in jail for a very long time.”

“What sort of evidence?” Redlaw asked warily. “Because if it’s a pouch of BovPlas blood, been there, done that. My boss—ex-boss—made it clear she doesn’t feel it’s a tack worth pursuing, and she’s probably right.”

“What if,” said Slocock, “I could prove that Lambourne ran tests on a Sunless to see whether the additive he put in the blood would have the desired effect?”

“I’d say, if you knew at the time that he was doing anything like that, you should have told the relevant authorities. You’re a Member of Parliament. You don’t just make laws, you have to uphold them.”

“Okay, so I’m compromised, I’m corrupt, I’m venal. Show me a man or woman in this building who isn’t. Besides, is it actually illegal to experiment on vampires? There’s nothing on the statute books that specifies either way. My point is, I believe this creature still exists. I know where it is. I can take you to it.”

“And once I’ve seen it, what then?”

“That’s for you to decide. Call in the shadies, maybe, or the police. If nothing else, Lambourne’s keeping a Sunless outside of an SRA. That’s surely an offence under the Settlement Act, isn’t it?”

“Very true.”

“So, interested?”

“I might be.”

“Need some time to think about it? I can step outside so you and your friend can confer.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea. Five minutes.”

Slocock slapped the desktop with both hands and stood up. “Five minutes it is. I’ll go powder my nose. But not,” he added, “
that
kind of powder.”

“Well?” said Redlaw.

“Well?” said Illyria.

“You first.”

“No, you.”

“Fine. Know what I think? I think this is all very convenient. Rather too convenient.”

“You don’t trust the charismatic and accommodating Mr Slocock?”

“No further than I can throw him. With my bad arm.”

“Agreed,” said Illyria. “He’s a politician. Enough said. On the other hand, though, he seems genuine in his hatred of Lambourne. He really does sound like he’s had a change of heart there. Revenge is a great motivator. Never mind a woman scorned, hell hath no fury like a loyal henchman who’s been abandoned by his master.”

“He wants some payback, I can accept that. But why bring anyone else in on it? Why us?”

“He doesn’t feel he can manage alone. He needs moral support. Accomplices. People with the same agenda as him. It’s perfectly understandable. What you should ask yourself, Redlaw, is if you’re going to get another opportunity like this. Slocock’s offering you Lambourne on a plate. What is it they say about gift horses?”

“Don’t go round the back end or you could get kicked in the teeth?”

Nevertheless, an hour later, Redlaw found himself in the back seat of a ministerial limousine as it ventured out of the gate, nosing tentatively into Parliament Square, Slocock at the wheel.

The unrest had been successfully quelled. The Stokers and PETS protestors had been corralled into Great George Street and crammed there in a tight, claustrophobic huddle with no room to fight, or barely even to breathe, until tempers died down. They had then been filtered onward into St James’s Park where a fleet of paddywagons awaited to cart them off to various police stations. Debris littered the now empty square—placards, broken weapons, shreds of torn clothing. The lawn was churned up like a rugby pitch after a match. Puddles of blood glistened on the roads.

The limo purred south along the river bank, through Chelsea and down into Putney. No one spoke. Earlier, Slocock had phoned Lambourne, requesting an audience with the industrialist. He had given a very convincing impersonation of a man full of contrition, regretting the rashness of his decision to break off ties with Lambourne, desperate for one more chance.

“Please, Nathaniel,” he had implored. “I shouldn’t have said what I said. I was an idiot. I don’t know what I was thinking. Let me drop by your place and we’ll meet face to face and you’ll see I mean it. Come on, what do you say? Kiss and make up? Seal it with a drink? Maybe a glass or two of that rather fine ’ninety-three Puligny-Montrachet you have in your cellar?”

Apparently, despite the lateness of the hour, Lambourne had said “yes.” Then it was just a question of signing out a car and waiting for the trouble outside Parliament to end.

Redlaw understood that he was placing an inordinate amount of faith in the man in the driving seat, a man he scarcely knew. Slocock was as slick and glib as they came. He was not the sort of person you instinctively warmed to and yielded control to.

But.

If he was on the level...

If Lambourne did have a Sunless in his possession...

If the industrialist really was flouting the law so flagrantly...

Then Redlaw had a shot at clawing back some, if not all, of the ground he had lost. He was on course to redeem himself.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

They crossed the M25 and headed down into north Surrey, land of stockbrokers, A-list celebrities and a myriad of golf courses. Soon Slocock was turning off a trunk road onto a minor road and from there onto a narrow leafy lane. This, he informed his passengers, marked the start of Lambourne’s property. It was a full five minutes before they reached the gate.

It was a high gate, spike-topped, solid. As the car pulled up in front of it, security lights flared into life, revealing surveillance cameras affixed to both pillars.

“Keep down,” Slocock warned. Redlaw and Illyria were hunkering low in the back seat, out of sight of the cameras, while Slocock remained in plain view.

They waited. The cameras peered, beady-eyed. Finally the gate gave an enormous
clank
and rolled laboriously to one side. Slocock nudged the car through.

The drive snaked between folds of forested hill. The car’s headlights formed a glowing tunnel in the dark.

“I’m going to get you as close as I can,” Slocock said. “We’ll stop just before we’re in sight of the house. You remember the directions I gave you?”

“Go left,” said Redlaw. “Through the woods. Up to the brow of the hill. Then bear right, following the ridge. When we reach the edge of the woods, we should be able to see the old observatory.”

“If not, you’ll have gone way off-course. There isn’t much of a moon tonight. It’ll be pitch black among all those trees. You all right with that?”

“Not a problem.” Redlaw held up his SHADE goggles.

“What about you, Illyria?”

“I have excellent night vision.”

A minute later the car coasted to a halt. “This is it,” Slocock said. “Out you go. We rendezvous in an hour. Back at the gate, yes?”

“Don’t be late,” Redlaw said as he and Illyria slipped out.

“I won’t. Best of luck.”

“You too,” said Illyria.

“Oh, all I’m doing is prostrating myself before the great man and begging his forgiveness. Don’t need luck for that, just good acting skills. The ability to fake sincerity—any MP worth his salt has that.”

The car glided off. Redlaw waited until its taillights were out of sight before putting on the goggles. He entered the familiar world of image intensification, phosphorescent green and slightly slippery. Illyria was already moving. He set off after her.

As they headed upslope through the woods, Illyria said, “Are you thinking we can retrieve this poor blighter and take him back with us?”

“I’m hoping so,” Redlaw said. The trees were a kind of protection, deadening sound, but even so both of them kept their voices low.

“And if for some reason he won’t come quietly...?”

“Then it’s a good thing I’ve brought a shtriga with me, isn’t it?”

“And once we have him, we persuade him to turn evidence against Lambourne.”

“I can’t see why he wouldn’t want to, if Lambourne’s been inflicting some kind of heinous torture on him.”

“This could be the salvation of you, you know, Redlaw.”

“I’ll settle for it being the ruination of Nathaniel Lambourne. That’s all I’m after now.”

“By Jove, you really despise the fellow, don’t you?”

“Not so much him,” Redlaw said. “What he represents. Conscienceless greed. The anything-to-make-a-buck mentality. He doesn’t care what he does, who he stamps on, how many lives he destroys, so long as it adds to his already obscene personal fortune.”

“The rich man and the eye of the needle. The moneylenders in the temple.”

“Meaning?”

“Just citing Biblical precedents, old bean.”

“I don’t need the Bible to tell me what’s right and what’s not. I’ve my own instincts to guide me.”

“But it helps, surely, having scripture to back you up.”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

At the summit of the hill Illyria had to pause for a few moments, steadying herself on the trunk of an oak.

“What’s up?” Redlaw asked.

“Nothing. Dizzy spell. It’ll pass.”

“You’re weak. You need blood badly. What if—?”

“No,” she said curtly, interrupting. “Don’t offer. You know perfectly well I won’t do that.”

“How do you know what I was going to say?”

“Because I know you. I won’t take even a little bit. I refuse to.”

“But we need you at full strength, just in case.”

“And you too.”

“I can survive losing a few drops.”

“But there’s a danger that once I start, I won’t be able to stop myself. I’ll drain you. Perhaps even turn you.”

“I don’t believe you’d be so careless.”

“Never underestimate the thirst. I have enough strength for this,” she insisted. “I’ll be fine.”

To prove it, she set a demanding pace for the next leg of the journey. Redlaw almost had to jog to keep up.

The forest ran out. They emerged from the trees to find themselves overlooking a shallow valley. Lambourne’s mansion sat half a mile to the west, a sprawling H-shaped edifice surrounded by formal gardens, a tennis court, swimming pool, stable block, and countless other outbuildings. The roofs were all cupola, finial and spire. Light blazed from a hundred windows.

“Now there’s a man who isn’t bothered about his carbon footprint,” Redlaw remarked.

“Or his electricity bill,” said Illyria.

To the east, not far from where they stood, lay the observatory.

“Is the Sunless there?” Redlaw enquired. “What’s your nose telling you?”

“Definitely I’m picking up traces of vampire scent. Male. It’s... not usual. Extraordinarily musky. Plenty of waste product too. He’s been imprisoned there a long time.”

“What about noises? Hear anything?”

“About a thousand animals rustling around in the woods. Your heartbeat—rather rapid. Nothing from the observatory, though, except some kind of machinery whirring, I think an extractor fan.”

“Let’s go in closer.”

Redlaw drew his Cindermaker, checked the clip—five rounds left—and padded towards the cylindrical building. Arriving at the entrance, he studied the door. Triple biometric security, as Slocock had warned. Retinal scan, voiceprint identification, thumbprint confirmation. But, according to Slocock, not fitted with an alarm. Lambourne didn’t wish anyone apart from himself gaining access to the observatory, but neither was he anticipating that intruders might attempt to break in.

Not convinced that the source of this information was entirely dependable, Redlaw inspected the door frame carefully for wires, contacts, anything which suggested a circuit that could be broken. More or less satisfied that Slocock had got his facts straight, he turned to Illyria.