“Hey, no harm in listening in to your little business pitch,” I said. I folded my arms, trying to play it cool.
“Oh, but I’m afraid there is harm, you wretched little mortal. A great deal of harm.” He spoke slowly, like I was stupid. Dracula opened his mouth to reveal his fangs. Baum shivered in his seat, nearly crying out. “If you don’t forget about my business and return to your pathetic lives, then we shall become enemies. I’ll drain the life from you, Mr. Candle. I’ll make you like me and lock you up in a dungeon, torturing you for centuries and you’ll never die. And I would tell exactly what I’m going to do to the little Stein heir, but I’m sure you can guess.”
Baum managed to scrape up enough courage to protest. “Mr. Dragonson, we’re really just here to—”
“I don’t know why you’re doing this, Baum, but I’ll only tell you once to stay away from Morton Candle.” Dracula’s lips curled back, giving Baum a better view of his teeth. “Do you have family, Baum? Children? They’ll be the first to die. Mark my words.”
But mentioning Henry Wallace had the opposite effect. Baum bristled. He stood up. “You won’t hurt my son, buster,” he said. “You mark my words on that.”
Fielding balled his hands into fists. “Just give me a reason, pal. I’ll tear you apart, you and your detective friend both.” He looked up at me, like I was a morsel on a plate. “The boss had me read the file on you. I heard you were in the Airborne. I’m impressed. Too bad I was in the Marines.”
“You should be carefully what you say, Fielding.” I reached for my cigarettes and lighter. I snapped the fire near Dracula, making him step back from the sudden light. “It might get you into trouble someday.” I nodded to Baum. “Let’s dangle. These bums don’t interest me anymore.”
The two of us headed for the elevator. Most of the other business people were still hobnobbing, so only Dracula and Fielding watched us go. I gave them a wave before the elevator doors closed. We started shooting down. Baum breathed a sigh of relief and leaned against the wall of the elevator. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve.
“Jesus,” he whispered. “Dracula’s one scary guy.”
“He does put on a good show,” I agreed. I offered him a cigarette, and he gratefully took it. I lit it for him and we smoked as the elevator shot down to the lobby. “You want out?” I asked, as the elevator reached the bottom and the doors rushed open. “If you’d like, you can pick up Henry Wallace, get a cab, and get out of here.”
Sly seemed to consider it. “No,” he finally said, loosening his tie. “Do you know what I did, during the War, Mr. Candle? I put all the money I had won to work and got myself a cushy desk job. I sat there and signed papers while real soldiers died by the thousands. And afterwards, I saw the camps and the horrors in all the newsreels, and I knew I hadn’t done my part to serve my country or protect the innocent.”
“And you think helping us will do that?”
“I’m not sure what Dracula’s planning, but it’s bound to be bad for the whole human race.” He turned to me as we walked through the wide lobby. “And I want to look my son in the eye and tell him that I did everything I could to stop it. I’m with you, Mr. Candle. You’ve got an ace up your sleeve.”
“Thanks, Mr. Baum. I appreciate it.” We reached the auto and got inside. I spun the car around to pick up Weatherby and Henry Wallace. I had a bad feeling we were being watched as I drove down the crowded streets. Dracula didn’t make idle threats. We’d see exactly what he was talking about later on. And now Sly Baum and his little boy were along for the ride.
I played it careful the rest of the day. We picked up Weatherby and Henry Wallace Baum, and headed back to the hotel. I moved up the guns into the hotel room, and went to work. I carved crosses into bullets, making sure they’d mangle the guts of any unholy creature that got in my way. I loaded up my Thompson and shotgun, prepared the sniper rifle and set them all in the closet. If we got into trouble, we’d be ready.
The sun set over the city and the lights went on. The neon glow made an ocean of strange colors fill the city, and the traffic on the sidewalks and in the streets only got larger. I was thinking of ordering up some food, when Weatherby suggested we go across the street to Reuben’s, a deli that I had visited with him before.
“You will adore it, Henry Wallace, I assure you,” he said, enjoying playing the part of a knowledgeable host. “The pastrami sandwiches are particularly delectable. And they serve free pickles with each meal!”
“That sounds swell.” Henry Wallace turned to his father. “Can we go with them, papa? It sounds really tasty, and I think you’d like it.”
Baum looked at me for an answer and I shrugged. “Could be dangerous, kiddo,” I said. “Dracula and all his goons are out there. He told me and Sly to give in and we didn’t, so I think he’ll be pretty pissed. Sure you don’t just want to hole up here, maybe wait him out?”
“N-no.” There was a slight tremor in Weatherby’s voice. “I d-don’t think so.” He wanted to show his friend a good time. After being with Henry Wallace the whole day, he had pushed aside his fears. I couldn’t blame him for that. And after all, what was the harm in getting a meal just outside of the hotel? I’d still have my pistols with me, and a pastrami sandwich as thick as my arm sounded pretty appetizing.
“Okay,” I said, reaching for coat and hat. “Let’s head to down to Reuben’s.”
We left our room, and went to the lobby. The joint was right across the street, so there was no need to get our car. We got a booth in the back and ordered, and after our meals arrived, we started talking about what Sly and I had learned in the office of Midnight Products. We had told Weatherby earlier, and now I wanted his opinion on it.
“He must be hiding something,” Weatherby said, between bites of his pickles. “And he’s right, you know. America is a great country – perhaps the greatest in the world. But it has its weaknesses. And Dracula appears to be exploiting them.”
“But you do really think he could turn America evil?” Henry Wallace asked, his voice dropping to a frightened whisper. “Do you?”
Weatherby considered the question, setting down his half-eaten pickle. “I was very young when Germany went fascist,” he said. “And I think Dracula was correct. Most of the average Germans who swore allegiance to Hitler were not truly evil. They did not harbor a particular hatred for people like me and my mother. But they saw everyone else going along with it, and they wished to conform. Something similar could happen in America.”
“It could happen here,” I said.
“But what about the Bohemian types?” Sly asked. “Their whole existence is about being different. They don’t even buy things in normal markets and they’d sooner burn in Hell than live in a suburb like everyone else. How’s Dracula planning to corrupt them?”
It was a good question. “Dr. Twist,” Weatherby answered. “He’s working with Dracula, remember? His plan must involve neutralizing the counterculture in some way.” He looked away from his pastrami sandwich, like he had suddenly lost his appetite. “By all the angels and devils. If they take control of the mainstream and the counterculture, they’ll own America.”
It was a scary thought. I took another bite of my sandwich, feeling the warm, greasy meat and sharp mustard slide down my throat. From behind me, I heard a waitress scream. The cry was taken up by other patrons. Someone was headed our way. I swore as I reached into my shoulder-holsters. I turned around – but something had already knocked me off of my seat and onto the floor.
I looked up into an ugly face that belonged on a rat – with long fangs that belonged to a cobra. The vampire was totally bald, with a short pointed nose, large pointed ears, sharp curved nails topping his thin fingers, and an expensive midnight-black suit. He leaned down, ready to take a bite out of my throat. People were screaming and running from the deli. I didn’t notice. I grabbed his shoulder and tried to push him back, but he was stronger.
“Dracula sends his regards,” the vampire hissed, leaning f
orward for the kiss of death.
Then my free hand closed on the handle of my knife. It must have tumbled to the ground when the bloodsucker tackled me. “Yeah?” I asked, tightening my grip on the blade. I brought up the bit of silverware and slammed it into his rotten heart. The vampire hissed and reared back, his skin deteriorating and floating away. He was turned to ash in seconds.
I came to my feet. Half a dozen more of the ugly vampires were crouched in the restaurant, around abandoned and overturned tables and chairs. I stood up, reaching for my pistols. “These must be Midnight Products’ junior executives. Dracula’s disciples. Some fellows will do anything for a paycheck.” I pulled out my automatics. The vampires weren’t scared.
Henry Wallace ran to his father. Sly wrapped his arms around his son, and turned to Weatherby. The kid stood up slowly, reaching into his frock coat. “They are vampires of the Nosferatu variety,” he explained. “Hideous, strong, and utterly at home in the darkness of the night.” He pulled a small glass vial from his suit and grabbed the candle stick on our table. “Can you keep them busy, Mort? And keep them away from the Baums!”
“I’ll do my best,” I replied, as the Nosferatu charged for our table. I started tossing lead. My first shot blasted a vamp’s head in half, the cross on the bullet making a mess out of his ugly face. Sly covered his son’s eyes. That was a good move. I fired again, striking a vamp in the chest, but it didn’t slow him. He reached me and his clawed hand shot out, scratching my arm and drawing blood. I dropped an automatic and went for my knife. That vamp got a Ka-Bar in the heart for his trouble.
“Weatherby!” I cried, as another Nosferatu grabbed my leg and pulled me down. “I ain’t got all day!” The Nosferatu were extremely strong, and the vampire holding my leg tossed me aside like I was a sack of mashed potatoes. I cracked down on another table. Wood broke and I tumbled to the ground alongside silverware and jars of pickles. I tried to stand up. Then I saw the four vampires approaching Henry Wallace, Weatherby and Sly, and knew I wouldn’t reach them in time.
But Sly was ready. Still holding close to his son, he grabbed a fork and knife and pressed them together, creating a makeshift cross. “Don’t come a step closer!” he shouted. The Nosferatu stayed in place, hissing and covering their eyes. Sly’s voice was full of panic, but he was defending his son, and nothing would stop him. “That’s right!” he cried. “Just stay right there and—”
A Nosferatu’s flailing foot knocked the cutlery out of Sly’s hands. The fork and knife fell to the ground. I turned my automatic and started shooting, as the vamps lunged for Weatherby, Sly and little Henry Wallace.
But then Weatherby raised the vial and smashed it onto the table. “Cover your eyes!” he cried, just before a blinding wave of light burned through the whole restaurant. I pressed my palms to my face, but my eyeballs still felt like someone was dipping them in the sun.
When I blinked a few hundred times and got my vision back, I saw the Nosferatu were dashing away out of the windows, smoke pouring from their bodies. They leapt nimbly onto the street, hissing madly. They vanished into the night, leaping into back alleys and getting lost in the city. Sirens whined in the distance.
“Concentrated sunlight, captured in this glass,” Weatherby explained, looking at the fragments of the shattered vial. “Cornelius Agrippa himself designed that.”
I bent down and grabbed my fallen automatic. “Just another night in the big city,” I muttered. “Let’s head back to the hotel.”
My friends agreed and we left right away. We slipped out the back, went around the block, and were in the lobby of the Hotel Grande by the time the cops showed up. When we were in the elevator, Henry Wallace gave his father a happy hug.
“You were amazing, papa! You saved our lives from those vampires! And Weatherby knew just what to do, and Mr. Candle was undefeatable!” He smiled at all of us. The boy knew that we’d been endangered, but was content with us watching over him. I wasn’t sure the trust was that well placed. If I had been a little slower, or my aim was a little off, poor Henry Wallace would be nothing but a midnight snack for those vampire bastards. Weatherby talked to him quietly about the best ways of dealing with vampires, while Sly and I chatted.
“How’d you learn to do that trick with the cross?” I asked Sly, as the elevator reached the top floor.
“Learned it in one Henry Wallace’s comic books.” Sly shrugged. “What’s our move now, Mort?”
“We must be on the right trail, as long as Dracula’s sending his trouble boys around to screw with us.” I considered my options. “So I say we keep right on going. You and your son should go and get some rest. I don’t want you leaving the hotel until this thing is finished. The top floor is our base now, and as long as we’re secure here, we’ve got no need to leave.” I nodded to myself, slipping back into a military mode of thinking. I needed more troops. “We may need you again, Sly. In the meantime, I’m gonna make some calls.”
“Sounds good.” The elevator reached the top floor. We shook hands, Weatherby giving a formal goodbye to Henry Wallace, and split up for our respective suites.
Weatherby’s eyes were half-closed and dark. “I was confident,” he whispered, half to himself. “I should have known better. If my parents, or if your squad was overconfident and stupid, I would’ve perished years ago. I cannot allow the same for Henry Wallace.”
I put my hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right, kiddo,” I told him. “Nobody’s dead but a bunch of stinking vampires, and that’s a happy ending in my book.” I slumped on the couch. The bar had been restocked, and I busied myself with making a quick drink. “Now get on the phone and ring up your sister. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
“What do you mean?” Weatherby wondered, reaching for the phone. He had memorized the number for her new apartment.
“Chad must have all sorts of contacts in the fruity beatniks that surround Viscount Wagner Stein. I want to find out what Wagner’s plans are, try and get a handle on the whole conspiracy. You ought to call up Chad and see if he can scope anything out.”
Weatherby smiled as he dialed. “I think you’re beginning to like Mr. Chad Albright, despite your professed prejudices.”
“Yeah and maybe I’m turning green with yellow spots too.” I had a sip of bourbon, and felt it burn down my throat. “See if they can meet with us tomorrow morning. And then give me the phone. I got a few calls of my own I gotta make.”
“To whom?” Weatherby wondered.
There were three people, in three different corners of the world. Dutch was a mechanic working in Los Angeles. Trustworthy, reliable, could work miracles with machines – and wield a shotgun just as well. Elkins was a sniper, doing hits for the Chicago Outfit. He was an Okie hick, but there was no one better with a scoped rifle. Tiny was somewhere in Southeast Asia, running guns for dope kingpins. He was a massive Cajun, with a temper only matched by the fury of the heavy machine guns he favored. During the War, we’d been brothers. Now, I needed their help again.
The next morning, we met Selena Stein and Chad Albright in the Hotel Grande’s restaurant for breakfast. Sly and Henry Wallace joined us, and Weatherby introduced both of them with his usual antiquated formality. Selena politely shook the hands of Sly and called Henry Wallace handsome, which made the little boy blush. I sat back at the end of the table, sipping coffee and waiting for it to be over. When it was, I asked Chad if he had done the snooping I had asked him to.
“Yes, sir, Commander Candle,” he said, snapping off a mock salute. “I made a few inquiries. Dig this – Dr. Twist is set to appear at a poetry reading, this afternoon at the Café Rigoletto. He’ll be slinging his dope, so there’s expected to be quite the crowd in attendance.”
“Then that’s where we’ll go.” I drained my coffee. “Chad, I don’t like it, but I don’t know the first thing about your nancy, long-haired friends, so you better come along. Selena and Weatherby should come too.” I nodded to the Baums. “Sly, why don’t you stay in the hotel with
your boy? The security in this joint is the tops. And I think you deserve a break, after what happened at dinner last night.”
“And what did happen at dinner last night?” Selena wondered.
“Vampires, ma’am,” Henry Wallace explained. “Nosferatu, to be exact.”
She covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh god,” Selena whispered. “Weatherby, you are mixed up in something extremely dangerous. You should have called me sooner.” She looked down into her coffee. “I can’t persuade you to stop. I know that’s foolhardy. So I’ll come with you. I’ll try and protect you. That’s the least I can do, so please let me do that.”
“I wouldn’t care to have anyone else by my side,” Weatherby said. He reached across the table and clasped his sister’s hand.
I finished my coffee and stood up, sliding my trench coat over my shoulders and looking into the street. Were we being watched? The city was a jungle of passing cars and towering skyscrapers. It wouldn’t be hard to slip a spy inside to keep an eye on us. Then again, using the crowds as cover worked both ways. It was perfect for letting Weatherby and I do some recon on Wagner Stein.
“You brought some clothes like I asked you?” I reached for a cigarette, scanning the sidewalk and the passing traffic. I didn’t see anything suspicious, which only made me more uneasy. Selena and Chad nodded. “Good. I’ve rented a room for you, down the hall from ours. I want you where Weatherby and I can easily protect you, in case Drac or Wagner tries anything. Why don’t you head up there now and get unpacked, and then we’ll head to the village.”
“Sounds like a plan, my man.” Chad stood up, reaching for his suitcase. He looked around at the restaurant and leaned closer, whispering in my ear. “This is one sweet place, Morton. I gotta thank you for letting Selena and I stay in a five-star joint like this. Sure, there’s a lot of evil going around, but maybe this could still be like a romantic getaway for me and Selena, you dig?”
The Stein & Candle Detective Agency, Vol. 3: Red Reunion (The Stein & Candle Detective Agency #3) Page 17
