Stroud was disappointed for reasons other than the film that would have made history. He was disappointed for Kerac, who, apparently, had given in wholly to the disease that had claimed his mind, so powerful that it had made of him a thing of inhuman proportions, a throwback to man's ancestral ape.
When they ran the tape back, searching for signs of the minimal change that'd taken place, it lasted but forty-nine seconds, and the focus was not good. A disappointed Stroud said, "Kerac was a weak man. Maybe he could have fought this thing if he wasn't weak."
"He was taken over by a very toxic drug, Stroud."
"Nevertheless, he was inherently weak and that's what ultimately sealed his fate. Well, feeding time for him, Ashyer, and be certain to take all the usual precautions. Nowhere within ten feet of the damned thing."
"Not to worry on that score, sir."
Stroud and Cage sauntered back down the long corridor to their waiting lunch. As they did so, they talked quietly. "I'm beginning to feel like a friggin' zookeeper here, Lou. And every day we hold him here is a day closer to his being discovered."
"Yeah, I know ... saw a few reporters in Andover, you said?"
"Definitely Chicago written all over these guys. One in particular is stalking us."
"Your sources as usual are good."
"One persistent reporter followed you from Chicago, the man known as the Peregrine--Perry Gwinn. He's been hanging about the Holiday Inn, asking a hundred questions, certain he's onto the scent of a big story. McMasters probably spilled it to him."
"So, I may have to go with an alternate plan now the transmitter's been implanted under Kerac's skin. Can't wait for an antivenin much longer."
"You've had the implant done?"
"Last night."
"Someone you can trust, I hope."
"Had him flown in for the operation. He was shaken up a bit, but Dr. Orin Grammersy did a fine job. Placed it below the skin of the forearm after sedating Kerac."
"Grammersy? University of Chicago? Christ, no wonder the word's leaked. He's got a big mouth."
"I've sworn him to secrecy."
"And you're just naive enough to believe that means a goddamned thing to a man like Grammersy? Oh, Stroud, you have a lot to learn, and as for those archeologists at the U. of C., if they get wind of this--"
"You really think that Kerac is a walking missing link of some sort?"
"Undeniably, and it proves the old theory put forth by Leaky and Robert Ardrey, that man evolved not from a benevolent ape, but a murderous, ravenous beast." They sat in silence a moment.
"Come on, Lou," said Abe. "I want to show you a weapon I have in development."
"Here?"
"I have a team of scientists living in the east wing, and they've been given everything they need. As we've received reports from you, we've worked on combating agents. They began with some acids."
"Acids?"
"Yes."
"Do you have any idea how sensitive Kerac's olfactory organs are? Not to mention his eyes and ears. You'll not get within feeding distance, and if you should, he'll choose you over an acid anytime, Abe. He likes red meat."
"We're working on an odorless version."
"To you and me it may have no odor, but to Kerac it will always have odor. He'll detect it."
"If they're hungry enough, they'll overcome distaste and distrust to bite, Lou. We just have to bait them."
Lou shook his head, saying, "Sounds too much like fishing to me. Damn it, you'll need the real thing once you're up there in Michigan."
"I know that, but as you say, it's getting warm around here."
Cage's mouth dropped open when Stroud pushed the doors to the east ballroom open. The expansive room was filled with laboratory equipment and men in white coats. "All at your disposal, Lou."
"What do you want me to begin with, Abe? Silver-bullet fashioning maybe?"
"You might tell me what properties in silver might weaken or destroy a thing like Kerac, see if the old tale has any validity."
"Silver ... yes ... as a counteragent to the unknown hormone that creates such growth in the bones and muscles..." Lou was already anxious and curious. "Perhaps silver nitrate as a poison."
"Can we get it in a form that can be used on the tips of our bullets?"
Lou laughed lightly. "Yes, I see your point. I'm off to work again."
On the monitoring screen, Ashyer stared as never before at the creature he had been feeding. He had had no idea that below the hair was a man. He knew that Dr. Stroud was a good man, and that all he did was for everyone's good ... but he had been shaken by the man's eyes deep within the furrows of the creature's brow and mane. It was as if he had seen a drowning man inside the creature, and Ashyer wanted to extend a hand and pull him out of death's maw.
Yet, Stroud had interviewed Kerac every day, trying desperately to reach out to the man who was drowning, to no avail. Perhaps it was too late. Perhaps he had drowned. Perhaps he knew no more than a caged animal, after all, thought Ashyer. At any rate, Ashyer owed his life to Stroud, and he would not betray the man who had freed Andover of its vampire curse. Still, the sight of the man within the monster continued to haunt Ashyer long after he was relieved, and long after he lay his head down on his pillow next to his wife, who, thank God, had been kept apart from the creature.
Perry Daniel Gwinn had been the first to cultivate his own nickname, Peregrine, first in college, where he was the editor for the Northwestern University Norther, and later with Lerner News in Chicago, and finally with the great and famous Field Enterprises newspaper the Chicago Tribune. As an investigative reporter, Gwinn had toppled crooked aldermen, brought randy judges to their knees and helped put an end to unsafe practices in geriatric care in and around the city. But he had done his best work on the crime beat, and when he got the scent of a big police story, nothing could stand in his way, not even distance. He had flown in a private jet to the little-known town of Andover, Illinois, where Abraham Hale Stroud kept an aged mansion encircled by huge, black wrought-iron gates.
Gwinn had been standing in the crowd of reporters at the Port Authority, and he had seen the mutilated bodies of the two P.A. officers; he had seen how Stroud entered the scene with such odd dispatch and diffidence, a strange ability to distance himself from the gore, and then his sudden and theatrical fainting spell. It all smacked of some sort of strange collusion on the part of the police and this outsider who was, according to Gwinn's sources, a former insider--one of the cops. Gwinn had reviewed Stroud's record, which was impressive but puzzling. Stroud had been called Chicago's "psychic cop." But Gwinn was beginning to wonder seriously if the man should not have earned the title of "psycho cop" instead. He was what Gwinn's northern New York relatives would call a very odd duck.
Why had Stroud suddenly shown up again there in the city, ostensibly trailing a maniacal killer that had mysteriously broken free of a maximum security prison in Merimac, Michigan? How much did he really know about this man the police were after, this John Kerac? Had Stroud somehow been involved in Kerac's release up in Merimac? Odd stories about Stroud that circulated about the Chicago Police Department characterized him as a fringe lunatic himself, and the records of Hinze V.A. Hospital showed that he was the recipient of a steel plate in his head after his tour of duty in Vietnam.
Gwinn had done his homework, but it was not enough to explain the dire consequences of the horrific killing spree of a former Grand Rapids trail guide through the streets of Chicago, and then the sudden end of the spree and the coincidental announcement from the police that Kerac had been killed by the police and his body cremated at the cost of the city along with the disappearance of Stroud and company. Gwinn wasn't sure he bought it; Gwinn wasn't sure that Stroud, with all his inherited millions, was not involved in a complicated and bizarre experiment involving the use of asylum inmates, especially murderous ones like Kerac.
Who knew, who could guess the limits of power such a fortune as Stroud's could reach; who had any idea how
much the man could buy into? Stroud had left Chicago to take up his grandfather's wealth when the old man died, but he had also by then become a genuine, certified archeologist with a degree from the U. of C. Gwinn wondered at the combination, thinking it an odd mix: criminological studies to archeological studies. Was Stroud into crime through the ages? Certainly had a massive canvas, if it were so. But what about crimes being committed by Stroud himself now?
Gwinn imagined Stroud in the little village of Merimac, buying the use of the criminally insane for some experiment which Gwinn had as yet to determine. Gwinn imagined Stroud taking this character Kerac--for whom there existed not a single photograph--under his tutelage and care. He could even imagine Stroud buying the man's freedom for visits to some secret laboratory, all very much against human decency and law. Gwinn imagined Kerac being given electric shocks and concoctions of drugs and mixed elixirs of all sorts, trying to make some determinations about the "archeology" of the criminal mind. To make head or tail of a man like Kerac who had diabolically eaten his victims!
What had led Stroud to the slip on the Calumet River to view the bloody work of a maniac gone free to rampage a city? Had Stroud known that Kerac was posited on one of the incoming ships? Hidden in a box deep in a cargo bay by Stroud's army of gofers? Had Stroud been shipping the sonofabitch through Chicago to his place in Andover for further and exhaustive studies?
By God, Perry Gwinn was going to find out.
When Stroud disappeared from Chicago, Gwinn had kept Stroud's old friend, Dr. Lou Cage, the coroner, under constant surveillance. Now he had followed Cage to Andover and to the site of the infamous Stroud Manse just outside the small, rural city. Here--if sources could be believed--the eccentric millionaire held court, and he sometimes condemned people to chains in an old dungeon somewhere below the enormous pre-Civil War collection of stone the house represented. Much of what was said about Stroud had the ring of nonsense and lunacy, and yet Gwinn had learned that even from the worst source something could be culled, and it was in the culling that Gwinn felt a quickening of his pulse and a high like nothing sex or food had ever proffered his way. Gwinn had seen much on his Chicago beat, and the kind of lunacy he often reported in the daily pages in his adopted city had opened his mind up for anything--anything.
He found it intriguing that Stroud was something of a psychic and that people like Commissioner Aaron Burns regarded Stroud with something akin to awe, or political hand-holding, or whatever the fuck it was. He also thought it of great interest to the people of Chicago, Gwinn's reason for being, his public. They had a right to know more about Abraham H. Stroud's presence and the fact the CPD was being led by the nose by a rich citizen who happened to have once been a detective. Moreover, Stroud had been seen at the Port Authority slaying looking like a man who had lost a boa constrictor and was anxious to get it back. If his Chicago contacts in Animal Control back home could be believed, the rich man had gotten his snake back under lock and key, and the thing that had killed those people in Michigan and then in Chicago was here somewhere.
Gwinn determined to find out--to get snapshots and the full story.
Lights in the mansion were going out all over. Gwinn moved in with the rats.
He skirted about the perimeter of the old house, finding no guards, encouraged. He went about the grounds, peeking in ground-floor windows through the odd black bars. He noticed the bars formed black crosses, finding the pattern bizarre. He made his way around back and was almost seen when he turned a corner. He ducked back. Two young fellows in white smocks catching a smoke, looking out at the meandering Spoon River in the distance, one pointing and the other shoving him and laughing. They'd apparently exited a doorway that now stood open.
Gwinn tried to think clearly. In a moment, he lifted a stone and flung it into the distance. This caused a stir between the two smokers, and together, they went to investigate the source of the noise. Gwinn slipped past them and through the hallway door they'd exited. He was on the inside.
Ashyer could not sleep, try as he may. He could not rid himself of John Kerac's shimmying features and eyes within the horrifying form of the creature. He had an idea, perhaps a useless one, yet one which he could not hold in check. He would go to Kerac and sit with him, trying to coax him back. He would tell him how Stroud's grandfather had once coaxed Ashyer and his wife back from death when they were languishing victims of the vampire bite. And if this did not work, he would talk to Stroud about two possibilities: either torture Kerac, to bring him to feel the man within, or put the poor bastard out of his misery. Stroud's grandfather would do no less.
He'd try sitting and talking to the beast as one man to another first. Ashyer felt it useless, but he must try.
He was on his way toward the door and stairwell that would take him to Kerac when someone grabbed him from behind, placing a choke hold on him.
"Do as I say, and you'll come to no harm."
"Who are you?"
"Never mind that. I've seen on your monitor what you men are holding in the cell. Now take me to the cell. I want to see this man you're holding hostage."
"But he's extremely--"
"Shut up! Do as you're told!" Perry Gwinn tightened the hold on Ashyer. "I have a gun and will not hesitate using it, if necessary. Lead the way, and no tricks."
"It's not a man."
"Shut up! I saw him on the monitor."
Ashyer wondered if he dare believe that Kerac had changed again. At the end of the hall he could see that the man who had been at the monitor had been knocked out by the intruder.
Ashyer hesitated at the door. No one was to know of the secret chamber below, the circular room that was the focal point and the psychic energy of the mansion. A cold, hard gun barrel changed Ashyer's mind. "Yes, sir."
They made their way down the spiral stone steps leading to the dungeon room where Kerac was being kept in a man-sized cage.
Ashyer was pushed through the final door by the intruder, falling to his face in his pajamas, scraping a knee, within a few inches of the cage, certain the monster would have his head in the next instant. But he looked up to see a naked man with a nasty, filth-ridden appearance staring down at him from inside the cell. It was Kerac.
"Whhhhooooo arrrrrrr yuuuuuuu?" Kerac asked them. "Wheeeeerrrr am I?"
Ashyer, getting to his feet, saw the terrible, dirty gash on the man's penis just before Gwinn's gun struck him in the temple, knocking him senseless.
Gwinn searched the room for the key and found a large jailer's key on a peg in the wall. He went for the cage, about to open it, when Kerac's hands came through and grasped his, holding firm.
"Let go, you fool! I'm getting you out! I'm a reporter. You tell me what this creep Stroud's done to you, and we'll see he's put away for life!"
But Kerac's grip on Gwinn only increased. So painful was the hold on his wrists that Gwinn thought his bones would pop, and then he heard the bones cracking, and he saw Kerac's features changing before him, saw the screaming snout erupt from the dirty, bruised face, saw the hair covering all, felt the claws dig into him as they grew out of Kerac's hands. Gwinn screamed again and again, feeding the raw desire in Kerac, fueling his change.
Gwinn's eyes bulged as the pain of the twisting of his left arm from its socket made him go limp, while the creature was gleeful at tearing his arm completely off, throwing it across the cell. Gwinn's screams died in his throat, lost there when Kerac's claws severed his jugular, spewing forth blood that exploded to the walls, the ceiling, and across Ashyer's prone form.
Gwinn's heart gave out long before his blood.
-14-
Stroud stood at the monitor, helping the man who had been knocked senseless there to his feet, when his ear was alerted to Gwinn's screams coming through the monitor. This was followed by Kerac's familiar bellow. Stroud stared in horror at the scene played out before him as the cameras rolled. Kerac's snout came to Gwinn's face in an obscene kiss, and snuggling through the bars, he tore off Gwinn's left side, ch
ewing on the tissue before Gwinn's glazed other eye. The moment he was bitten, Gwinn's screams subsided and he went slack, unable to kick or fight, but quite aware of what mad thing was happening to him.
Werewolf's Grief (Bloodscreams #2) Page 14
