The Dracula Caper (TimeWars 8)

"What manner of man could do such an awful thing?" said Wells hoarsely.

Forester looked away.

"This warehouse can't be Drakov's base of operations," said Delaney, "but those creatures were here protecting something."

There was a cry from the other end of the warehouse, someone shouting in Chinese. They rushed in the direction of the shout and found several of Lin Tao's men gathered around a large, glowing circle on the warehouse floor. The men of the tong drew back from it fearfully, pointing at it and talking excitedly among themselves in Chinese. The man who had first discovered it had stepped within the peculiar-looking borders of the ring: it had started to glow brightly and he had disappeared. Now, as they watched, its glow slowly faded once again.

"And that's what they were guarding," said Delaney, staring at the border circuits laid out in a circle on the floor.

"What is it?" said Wells.

"A chronoplate," said Andre. "Sort of an earlier version of the warp disc, obsolete now, but nevertheless, quite functional."

"Set in the active mode," said Steiger. "No Wonder we were never able to find any trace of the creatures. They were clocking in, killing, and then escaping through time, using this place as a transition point. There's got to be another plate mated to it on the other side… wherever in hell the other side is."

"And that is where Count Dracula has gone," Lin Tao said, "along with Mr. Conan Doyle and Mr. Stoker."

Forrester glanced at Lin Tao and spoke to the old man in rapid Chinese. Lin Tao raised his eyebrows, surprised to hear such fluency, then nodded once and bowed. He gave a quick, soft-spoken command and two of his men came up to stand on either side of Wells, taking him firmly by the arms.

"What?" said Wells, "Lin Tao, what is this?" Then realization dawned and he started to struggle, but it was useless. "No. wait!" he shouted. "Let me go!"

But it was already too late. He stood watching helplessly, unable to follow as the others stepped into the glowing circle and disappeared from view.

"Show me exactly where it happened," Grayson said.

Inspector Tremayne walked forward several yards, then backed up four paces and stood looking at the ground uncertainly. "Right here, I think." he said. "I had just turned the corner there and the blighter coshed me from behind, neat as you please. My head is still ringing like a bloody bell."

"And you saw nothing?"

"Not a blessed thing until I woke up just now and ran into you just down the street. How on earth did you know where to find me?"

"I received an urgent message at my home, delivered by a Chinaman," said Grayson. "He ran off before I had the chance to question him. It was a note directing me to find you here and with it was a ribbon of green cloth, a head scarf such as those worn by the members of the Green Dragon tong. Would you believe it, he even brought a coach for me to use."

"Then the Green Dragon is behind these murders!" said Tremayne.

"No," said Grayson. "Strange as it may seem, it would appear that they are trying to aid us."

"Well, they've got a damn peculiar way of going about it!" Tremayne said, rubbing his head.

"You still have your revolver?"

"Blimey, I didn't even think to check!" He slapped the pocket of his coat. "No, it wasn't taken," he said, pulling it out and checking it to make sure it was loaded.

Grayson pulled out his own revolver, a Webley, and looked around at the fog-shrouded street. "You say both Doyle and Stoker were following the Count as well?"

"All the way from the Lyceum," said Tremayne. "Left their coach when he did and followed him on foot. Damnedest thing, I thought at first they were together and merely traveling by separate coaches, but it soon became clear that they were dogging him just the same as I was."

"Which way did you last see them go?"

"Straight down that street there, into that courtyard."

"A cul-de-sac," said Grayson. "Nothing down there but an old warehouse. Hmmm… strange. How long would you say you were unconscious?"

"Damned if I know," Tremayne said. "Why? Does it make a difference?"

"It does if you were struck over the head after I was informed of it," Grayson said. "It took me perhaps half an hour to drive here by coach. If we assume that your assailant coshed you, then immediately took a coach straight to my lodgings to inform me of it, and allowing for the time it took me to arrive here, then we would have to be dealing with a time span of something over an hour at the very least and one has to wonder how they knew you would remain unconscious for so long. No, Tremayne, I do not think it could possibly have happened that way. Our friends in the Green Dragon are orchestrating these events in a most singular and peculiar manner, a manner that suggests complex organization."

"I don't understand," Tremayne said.