"Which cannot possibly avail us," said Moreau. "What would you have us do, call in Scotland Yard and tell them that an insane renegade from another time has created a vampire and a werewolf, perhaps several of them, and released them in the East End? That the reason he has done this is that he wishes to create a disruption in the flow of time and alter history? That right here, in Victorian London, there are agents from the future, on the trail of this man and undoubtedly on my trail, as well, a fugitive from another time in a parallel universe? How do you think they would react to that?"
"Granted, if we told them that, they would be sure to think us mad," said Wells. "but we do not have to tell them everything. We need only tell them that it is Nikolai Drakov who is behind these murders and-"
"And where would be our proof?" Moreau said. "Even if we could supply it to them, don't you see, they would be as children to a man such as Drakov. They simply do not possess the skill, the intelligence, the experience or the technology to deal with such a man. There is not a jail in this time period that could hold him and even if there were, he is far too dangerous to be allowed to live."
"And who are we to make such a decision?" Wells said. "If we take the law into our own hands, then we become no better than Drakov. In that event, we must abandon reason altogether."
"Listen to me. Herbert," said Moreau, "I understand what is troubling you, but think a moment. This curious phrase, 'taking the law into our own hands,' what does it mean? What is the law, after all, but an agreement reached by men such as ourselves who, in the act of formulating the law, have taken matters into their own hands? It is not my intention to become embroiled in a philosophical debate with you. I have neither the time, the energy, nor the inclination. Drakov must be stopped and his creatures destroyed along with him. We are bound by an imperative far greater than any British law. But if you must have some form of justification for what I am proposing, then consider this: if a citizen of another country were to come to England, someone who is a wanted criminal in the nation of his origin, and if officials of that nation were to request his extradition so that this criminal might be tried under the laws of his own land, then there is a process whereby such a thing might be accomplished, is there not? Well, the three people who came to see you at your home are representatives of the law in their own time and they have come here to bring Drakov to justice for his crimes. For obvious reasons, they cannot approach the officials of your government and ask them for assistance.
However, weare in a position to give it to them. It is our moral duty to do so, mine because I have given Drakov the means to do what he has done and yours because you respect and believe in the laws of your country, but have no recourse to them. If you will not take the law into your own hands, then avail yourself of the law enforcement agents from the future. In either case, it would make no difference, I can promise you. Either Drakov dies, by their hand or by ours, or we all die by his. The question is not one of principle, but of survival."
"The first question is that of finding the one we seek," Lin Tao said. "It may serve to consider the example of the Siamese fighting fish. When two males are present, they must inevitably do battle to the death. But if a third male should be present, he will wait until one of the first two combatants has died and then he will engage the weakened winner, thereby greatly increasing his chances of a victory. We would do well to emulate his example. Let us pit Drakov and these agents from the future against each other while we wait and watch. If these agents from the future should succeed, so much the better. If they fail, then we shall be fresh, strong and prepared to act. Let us not attract too much attention to ourselves while these other fish do battle. Our turn will come. In the meantime, we must locate our adversary's sanctuary and identify his minions. In that regard, we have already made some progress.
"I have had my peop
le making discreet inquiries," Lin Tao continued, "and every Chinese man, woman and child in London has been enlisted to help us in our cause. Now it has come to my attention that a certain unused warehouse near the docks has been the site of some unusual activity. Although it is locked and apparently still empty, it has been visited by several people, always wry late at night, most notable among them being a certain wealthy gentleman. Sometimes he brings servants with him and they carry large sacks from their coach into the warehouse. One of these sacks was heard to moan. On two separate occasions, I have had men attempt to search this warehouse. They have not been seen again. I have had this gentleman followed and it has been reported to me that he has rooms at the Grosvenor Hotel. He does not answer to Drakov's description, yet his name is curiously similar. It is Count Dracula.”
"Dracula!" said Moreau. "Are you absolutely certain?" "Yes," said Lin
Tao. "The name means something to you?" "It does, indeed!" Moreau said. "Your people must be very careful, Lin Tao. They have found our vampire!"
Jasmine had listened, awestruck by their conversation, and then she quietly tiptoed back upstairs, all thoughts of sleep- giving tea forgotten. Sleep would now be an impossibility. She remained awake all night and by the time the morning carne, she knew what she would have to do.
8
"Excellent," said Drakov, watching Rizzo through the iron bars of the cell. "He's young and strong, in peak physical condition. I was afraid he might not stand up to accelerated treatments, but he's doing splendidly."
Rizzo repeatedly threw himself against the bars of the cell, howling like a beast. His hairy, clawed hands reached between the bars, vainly trying to get hold of Drakov, his face was sprouting hair from the eyeball sockets down and his forehead was covered with new growth as well. His teeth were elongated and saliva dribbled down onto his torn shirt as he snarled, frothing at the mouth, biting his own lips with frenzy.
"He appears to be resisting the imperative programming." said the tall, dark, moustached man standing beside Drakov. He was wearing an elegant black suit and a long opera cape. There was a ruby amulet at his throat. He spoke with an Eastern European accent. "I thought you said that was not possible."
"It is always possible to t ry to resist," said Drakov, "but in the long run, such efforts prove futile. Most people would be unable to resist after the first full session, however, this one seems to be one of the rare exceptions. He is using pain and rage to fight the conditioning."
“It seems to be working."
"Yes. Volodya," Drakov said, using a familiar, Russian diminutive form of the name Vladimir, “but for how long?" He smiled. "He cannot keep it up forever. And if we become impatient with him, all it would take would be another session and he would become completely pliable, just like his friend, Ransome. Rizzo seems to be made of sterner stuff. One has to respect such determination. Let him resist. He is only prolonging the inevitable."
Rizzo growled and launched himself against the iron bars again, as if he could batter them down by such repeated assaults, but the bars were set deeply into the old stone of the castle dungeon and all he succeeded in doing was bruising and bloodying himself as he ran at the bars again and again.
"Keep at it, my friend," said Drakov, grinning at him. "The release of adrenaline and endorphins brought about by all this strenuous activity is only speeding up the change."
Rizzo screamed in anguish, but it came out as a prolonged, bone-chilling howl, like that of a wolf baying at the moon. The cry echoed in the cold, damp dungeons and became multiplied, as if joined by the howls of the tormented souls of all those long dead prisoners who had been tortured in the subterranean cells of the ancient castle.
They were not in London anymore. Above them were the ruined battlements of a medieval keep situated high in the Transylvanian Alps a castle once occupied by the real Dracula, a warlord and a high-ranking member of the Order Draconis, founded by the Holy Roman Emperor Sigismund. Dracula meant "son of the dragon" and although the Dracula who stood at Drakov's side was not in any way descended from the warlord who had once fought the Turks and impaled thousands of them upon wooden stakes, he was in every other respect a true son of the dragon.
He was a genetically engineered creation, born of human DNA which had been radically modified and raised through the expedient of time travel. Nurtured within an artificial womb, he had been born in a laboratory and then sent back into the past and given to a childless family who had been carefully selected and paid well to raise their very special charge. At prescribed intervals. Vlad had been brought back from the past to Drakov's laboratory once again, so that Drakov could embark upon the next stage in the development of his creation. Programming through cybernetic implants, surgical biomodification, serum treatments… for the child who was the first true vampire. years passed between the times he saw his creator, but for Drakov, it had been only a matter of days, hours or even minutes. Once he had planted his seed back in the past, he needed only to program his warp disc to take him back five or ten or fifteen years later, any interval of time he chose, to see his creation literally growing up before his eyes and guide its physical and intellectual development. And now that he had what he referred to as his "breeding stock" in the ironically named Vlad Dracula and Janos Volkov (the name meaning "son of the wolf''), he could use them to create others through the medium of infection in a fraction of the time. It could he done via an infectious bite, as had been the case with Hesketh, or with an injection of the genome taken from one of the creatures. And they were creatures, human in a sense, yet at the same time both more and less than human. A new and different species.
With Tony Hesketh, Drakov had decided to go the "traditional route." as he referred to it with amusement, following the elements of folklore associated with the Vampire myth-the seduction, the mutual drinking of the blood, sleeping in coffins during the day and establishing a psychosexual rapport with the victim. He found it useful to follow the traditions of the legend, to take advantage of Hesketh's susceptible and superstitious mindset.
In time, Hesketh would discover that whether he slept during the day or night was purely a matter of setting his biological clock and that a bed with clean sheets would be far more comfortable and would work equally as well as a coffin lined with "native earth." He had already learned that there was no reason for him to avoid mirrors, since his image was obviously reflected in them, and he had learned that crossing running water posed no problem, either. He would be able to enjoy as much garlic in his dinner as he wished and, if he chose to, he could wear a silver crucifix without the least bit of discomfort. Try as he might, he would never be able to assume the shape of a wolf or turn into a bat and fly, nor would he be able to transform himself into a mist and seep beneath a doorway. And, if he was careless, he would learn that a wooden slake hammered through his heart would certainly kill him, as would a knife stuck between his ribs or a bullet fired into his brain. But for the time being. Tony Hesketh functioned as the vampire of folklore, believing only that there were inaccuracies in the myth, that since he had no need to fear the cross, a mirror or a string of garlic bulbs, a vampire was even stronger in his "powers" than the legend would have people believe. And in his new "eternal life," Dracula was his spiritual guide. Hesketh would make the legend real and it did not matter much if he was killed, so long as he was able to infect at least a few more victims. They, in turn, would infect others, and it would spread. Biological warfare combined with murder and superstitious terror would achieve the desired result. The craving and the need for blood was real and it was that which would perpetuate the plague.
With Rizzo, as with Ransome, it was a different matter. No trappings of vampiric folklore for them. There was no point to it. They were the first pawns taken in a far more intricate, and for Drakov, much more personal game. Ransome was already infected with the vampire DNA and brainwashed through the medium of cybernetic programming to function as Drakov's agent. Rizzo would be next. Through them, Drakov planned
to attack the temporal agents and, if he was successful, they would each become infected with a frightening disease.
"I would love to see the expression on my father's face when he realizes that I've struck back at him through his finest agents," said Drakov. "I will have disrupted the timestream irreparably and, at the same time, I will have shown them all the ultimate folly of their conceit, their insufferable arrogance in flouting the laws of nature."
"And when you have done this," said the vampire hesitantly, "what will become of us, of Janos and myself?"