Necroscope - The Lost Years, Vol II Part 10

With which the Inspector was finally convinced - at least that there was a lot he was yet to be convinced about And so: '111 be there in about an hour,' he said.

'Guid!' said the other. 'But drive careful, George. They roads are awfy treacherous wi' the slush freezin' on 'em. Aye, and a man can never tell who's followin' behind him - ye ken?' And in the moment before the phone went down, lanson was annoyed yet again to hear the little vet's irritating chuckle...

It was barely five but already dark when lanson reached old Angus's place and parked his car behind the vef s Volkswagen. He had been here before - well, on occasion - and so wasn't at a comp lete loss. But as he left the street through a complaining wrought-iron gate, climbed a short flight of steps to the arched-over entrance, and went to ring the bell, so the stout oak door gaped wide and Angus was there, waiting on the threshold.

At that precise moment some vehicle must have gone by in the road and sent a glancing headlight beam to strike the vet's eye s, which for a second burned yellow with reflected light It wasn't the first time that the Inspector had noted this effect Perhaps it was the contrast, for behind McGowan the hall lights were out; in fact the entire house seemed to be in darkness.

The little vet was dressed for outdoors: a raincoat over his street-clothes and his customary wide-brimmed hat He took lanson's arm and greeted him with a whispered, 'No, George. It willnae do tae park just there - Ah'm probably bein' watched! So come on, well put yere car in ma h garage by the sea.'

He led the way back to lanson's car, and directed him to a row of garages set back from the dark waterfront a quarter-mile away. His garage was s.p.a.cious but damp, built of rotting bricks on waterlogged foundations.

'Ah'm told they're comin' down in a year or so,' he said. 'A lot o' they crumblin' old houses, too. A new promenade or some such fancy scheme. For the tourists an a'.' And then they walked back in silence to his place.

But as they reached the house and McGowan turned a key in the door to let them in: 'Angus,' the Inspector took his elbow. 'Man but _ you're mysterious tonight' I mean I really don't know what to make of all this.

You're being watched, you say?'

'Aye. if s more than likely,' the other nodded, glancing back out 100.101.

into the street 'So we'd best no be standin* around out here, eh?' But as lanson made to enter McGowan blocked his path. And: 'George,' he said, staring hard at his guest. "What Ah'm about tae tell ye - and maybe show ye - isnae for common men. Why, it can change ye forever, and it's no mah desire tae be the one yell be blamin'!' lanson shook his head in bewilderment 'Angus, if I didn't know you better,' he said, Td have to take this as being some kind of joke. I can't imagine what you're into!'

'But ye do want tae know?'

'Of course I want to know. I have to know!' Irritated now, and with his patience quite exhausted, the Inspector brushed by him - and McGowan let him pa.s.s.

'Of yere own free will, then,' he whispered, as he locked the door behind them.

The pa.s.sageway leading past the gloomily climbing staircase to the living-room was night-dark ahead. lanson knew the way, however vaguely; in any case it was McGowan's turn to take his elbow as he ushered him deeper into the house. But at last some welcome illumination - even if it caused the Inspector to stagger a little and blink in the sudden glare - as his host switched on the lights.

lanson had never much cared for McGowan's house, nor even for the district in which it stood. The area was too old, cold, and too close to the sea. Only a few of the houses were habitable, and as Angus himself had pointed out they were being demolished street by street But it was possible there'd be a government subsidy in it if and when he had to move out. So maybe that's what had kept him here all these years.

The houses were tall, narrow, terraced Victorian affairs, with gabled attic windows. They must have been handsome enough in their day, but the area had long since fallen out of favour with estate agents; much of the waterfront just here was dilapidated to the point of ramshackle. lanson was fairly sure that was why old Angus never asked him round much: because he was a little ashamed of the district But in any case the Inspector's bright and s.p.a.cious flat had seemed more suitable for their occasional get-togethers. And come to think of it, it would have been just as suitable for this meeting tonight.

'Why here?' It was a trait of lanson's - the hallmark of years of police-work - to ask leading questions. And sometimes it could be an error, too. T mean, why couldn't you have come to my place? And since you fancied I had been tailing you, why didn't you call me, to put both of our minds at rest?'

'Ah was waitin' for ye tae admit defeat' McGowan grinned. 'Ah was wantin' tae see how ye'd get on with yere "man and big dog" theory.

Oh, but never fear, Ah'd a' called ye for sure if ye'd taken much longer tae call me.'

The living-room was L-shaped and high-ceilinged, draughty, yet damp-smelling, too. McGowan lit a gas fire in a converted heart h, fetched a whisky bottle and gla.s.ses, saw lan son comfortable on an ancient leather couch and seated himself opposite. And: 'George, it's time Ah confessed,' he said. 'Ah didnae do mah job. Ah've no checked up on local zoos and what a', and Ah dinnae intend tae. But desertion o' duty? Never! And why not? Because Ah ken only too well where our murderin"

beastie comes frae - where she lives - and it's no a zoo or a wildlife park! Am Ah goin' too fast for ye?'

lanson took his gla.s.s, stood up and moved to a bookshelf. 'No,' he answered, 'because so far you've told me exactly nothing! You said or hinted that you had evidence of something far-reaching - but all we have so far is meaningless words. You're obviously talking about B J. Mirlu - and it's also obvious you think she's guilty of something. Murder, you said. Well, maybe she is,' he shrugged. 'I won't know until I know it all.'

McGowan had followed him. 'So, ye're ready tae hear me out are ye, George? Guid! But are ye open- minded enough? Ah told ye it was weird .'.

The Inspector had found what he was looking for. The boo k he'd seen once before on these very shelves - the second edition of Wild Dogs, Big Cats, by Angus McGowan. He took it back to the couch, and laid it on an occasional table close to hand. McGowan again followed him, looked at him in a curious fas.h.i.+on, and at the book, and said, 'Well?'

'Ill hear you out, aye,' the Inspector nodded.

'Verra well. But no interruptin', mind. Mah tale's a long yin, and once Ah'm started Ahll want tae finish. It's how tae start that's the problem.'

Try the beginning,' lanson advised. And after old Angus had topped up their gla.s.ses, he did...

'Here's a word for ye tae conjure wi': lycanthropy! Say nothin', George, just listen. Now, ye ken Ah've been interested in wild creatures a' mah life. Why, they books on mah bookshelves there tell it a' - that the diseases and hurts o' wild things have been mah life, Ah mean literally. But mah interest hasnae confined itsel' tae broken bones and ailments; it's the nature of the animals theysels that fascinates me - zoology, aye. And Ah've awiz had a verra special interest in predators, big dogs or cats. But especially dogs. For y"see there's this tradition in mah family that certain ancestors o' mine -kith at least, if not kin - were killed by wolves.

That was here in Scotland, of all places, but more than three hundred years ago.102.

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"Yell no do ubt recaD mah pa.s.sion for myths a nd legends? How Ah cannae resist a guid story in the papers about beasties killin' sheep on Bodmin Moor, or Dartmoor, or in the Highlands, or just about anywhere else? Aye, and even the really big-yins - though often the no-so-real yins, indeed ye might even call 'em bogus beasties, if ye take mah meanin' - in the lochs and such? How Ah pack mah bag and go off tae check such things out, and sometimes how they even pay me tae do it!

'Well, when Ah was younger Ah was very well-travelled. Ah got about in this big wide world, and learned a lot o' strange stuff. Ye've no doubt heard o' beast-children, George, brought up frae bairns by creatures o' the wild? Wolf-children in India and Nepal and Russia, dingo- or hyena-people in the Australian outback or the African veldt Whenever Ah heard o' that sort o' thing Ah'd be off again, tae see what it was a' about 'Most o' these "marvels" are faked, o* course - "tourist attractions," for want o' a better description, much like auld Nessie hersel', Ah fancy - but in Hungary and Romania Ah did come across the odd case or two that simply defied explanation. And in Sicily... oh, a' sorts o' rumours in Sicily and the Mediterranean in general!

But in fact it was in Sicily that Ah met up wi' folks o' similar persuasions, people who were interested in trackin' down t he same kind o' legends as mahsel'...

'Where was Ah? Oh, aye: Romania.

'Why. it's only thirty years ago in a place called Dumitresti in Romania that they had a spate o' wolf-killings - murders, mah friend! - by the light o' the full moon! The local folks knew what it was. They waited a month 'til the moon was full again, then sent out hunters intae the mountains wi' rifles and silver bullets tae kill the beast They knew where tae find him, too: near a Gypsy encampment Because they'd made a connection, d'ye see? That whenever the Romany folk came this way, the bleddy werewolf came wi' them!

'Romany, "Szgany," George; that's what they call Gypsies in they parts. And these were the Szgany Mirlu!

Eh? And did ye no think tae ask that bonnie Bonnie Jean where she hails frae? Or if not the la.s.sie hersel', her people before her?'

Oddly enough, lanson had asked BJ. that selfsame question, though in a different connection and because of her accent, not her name; but as he opened his mouth and stumblingly went to make some comment that he hadn't quite thought out 'Ah, no, dinnae gawp and wave yere arms!' McGowan seemed excited now. 'Dinnae start yappin' on about "coincidence" and such but hear me out! D'ye think Ah'm stupid, George? Ah mean, d'ye think Ah dinnae ken how a' this must sound? Well, Ah ken well enough, but first let me tell it a' and then make up yere own mind. For Ah'm no the luny here. Ye can take bets on that!

'Aye, and there's another good word for ye. Lunacy! Moon madness! The madness o' a creature who howls to his - or her -mistress moon, and whose foamin' mouth contains a bite that's contagious and carries a fever!

A fever o' change, aye! What, impossible? D'ye think so? And what about rabies, spread bite by bite, that'll change a creature - even a man - tae a ravin' monster? And doesnae cancer change the cells o' a man's body?

And malaria change the colour o' his skin? And acromegaly his verra shape!? So tell me, who's tae say lycanthropy cannae do the same?'

By now the Inspector was more than a little concerned for McGowan; in fact, he was downright worried.

Despite the logic' of certain of the contents of the man's - what? his 'dialogue,' or harangue? - they seemed to have no connection with lanson's view of reality. Indeed, the little vet appeared to be outlining some peculiar obsession, something that he had kept hidden, bottled up inside him for a long, long time.

But as yet there was no sense of danger here; in fact if anything lanson was starting to feel drowsy, lethargic, lulled by the vet's whisky. This despite the fact that old Angus himself waxed ever more excited, more animated.

'As for the "myth" o' the silver bullet,' he went on now, '-but isnae lead a metallic poison, too? Or mercury? Or plutonium? Or a dozen others? Different chemicals affect different species, George.

One man's meat as they say...

'So, what am Ah ravin' on about? But by now it's surely obvious, even tae a down-tae-earth bawbee such as yersel*. But hold yere fire a while longer, and AhTl say on.

'Excep' Ah see ye've run dry. So let's top up yere gla.s.s a wee. There - and a drop for me, too.' As he poured, so lanson found strength of will to reach inside his pocket and draw out McGowan's first edition of Wild Dogs, Big Cats, placing it face-down on the table beside the other book. There was no hidden threat in this, no intention to surprise or startle; he merely intended to ask McGowan about the photograph and didn't want to forget, that was all. For surely someone - Mr Greentree? - must be seriously in error here. Indeed, a great many things seemed in error here.

As in a dream, the Inspector opened the back flap of the book to old Angus's picture, which seemed to float up off the paper at him. Then he let his hand fall into his lap where it lay trembling, exhausted - apparently from the effort of handling the book!

McGowan's eyes darted from the book to lanson's face and back again. He pointed at the photograph, and his pinched face gave an involuntary twitch as his thin lips drew back a little from teeth that were sharp and white. The Inspector had always thought they were104.

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false, those teeth. And surely they must be?

But: 'Longevity!' McGowan had burst out, without any recognizable sense of continuity. 'Another key word, aye! And Ah can see ye've been worryin' about it. But o' course, ye wouldnae have any reason tae check up on that sweet young thing at the wine bar, now would ye? Well, well get tae that - eventually. But for now...

'.. .Where was Ah?' (McGowan's voice was rough and rasping as always, but angry, too, lanson thought; his eyes kept straying to his photograph in the book on the table). 'Aye, Ah remember now.' he pulled himself together. Thirty years ago in a place called Dumitresti, in Romania. Werewolves, George, werewolves! They hunters Ah mentioned - they shot theysel's a wolf. A great grey monster o' a beast that had one o' they men's left arm off at the shoulder before they killed it! Then the authorities had them a' up for trial... for murder.

For o' course it was the same auld story: they hadnae shot a beast but an innocent Gypsy lad, a youth frae the Romany caravan site. Oh really? So why were they , acquitted, George? Set free - turned loose - wi'

never a stain on their characters!

'A backward land, ye say, and even today full o' monsters in their own right - such as its bleddy government!

Well it's true enough. And that's the noo. But Romania thirty years ago? And so Ah'm obliged tae agree, it's no fair o' me tae base man argument - or shall we say, mah dissertation? - on alleged occurrences taken place in such a barbaric h.e.l.lhole. So let's take a look at a more enlightened society, shall we? Like, how about England? Or even closer to home, Scotland maybe? What about the Highlands, just thirty years ago? Aye, just about the same time as this incident in Dumitresti. Ah, but it would surprise me if by now ye hadnae done yere homework, George. Indeed, Ah'm certain sure ye ken what Ah'm on about 'So then, what about it, eh? That incident at the wildlife park on the Spey, eh?... EM 'Ah see it in yere eyes, George: how would auld Angus ken a' about that? But have ye no been listenin'?

Man, this is mah field; it's a part o' me no less than police-work is a part o' yeresel'!

'But thirty years ago? Well let me tell ye that was some weird time! It was a phase o' the moon, somethin'

different, a time o' unrest among a' the world's lycanthropes. Romania, Hungary - aye, and Scotland, too - it was everywhere. They couldnae control theysel's; they ran wild for however brief a spell. The moon held a'

the wolf-folk in her power, and the bloodl.u.s.t ran high as the highest tides...

'So, now let's get tae Bonnie Jean. But first... will ye no have another nip? What, it's gone right tae yere head, has it? Just a couple o' wee drams? Ah, well, it happens like that sometimes, when a body's a mite weary. Maybe it's a' this detective work ye're doin', George. Aye, for some o' us are no as young as we used tae be. It's gettin' time for ye tae quit, Ah fancy...

'But where was Ah? Oh, aye: Bonnie Jean Mirlu. Ah've been watchin' that yin for some time now-'

'For too long,' lanson gurgled, finding his tongue floppy in his mouth. 'From a time... a time before the murder at Sma' Auchterbecky!' The moment after he said it, he could have bitten his tongue off. But too late, and it had probably been too late anyway. The doctored whisky, and the fact that old Angus - very old Angus -had scarcely touched a drop. The Inspector could not possibly know or even make a guess at what was going on here, but he sensed that he was in serious trouble. And his fear must have shown in his eyes.

McGowan sprang to his feet, agile as a youth. 'So, Ah was right!' he snarled. Te've tumbled me! Oh, ye've no proof positive as yet - no enough for George bleddy lanson's oh-so-orthodox, down-tae-earth mind, anyway - but good enough tae start investigatin' me, eh? Well, Ah'm sorry, mah old friend, but it cannae be.

And Ah'm done the noo wi' a' this blether!'

But the look on his face: lanson had seen it before, when McGowan had driven away from the house on the river. That look of sheer b.e.s.t.i.a.l loathing! Was the man ins ane?

'Angus!' the Inspector tried to speak, but could only mumble. Quick as the vet himself, he too had tried to spring erect - only to go sprawling when his legs failed to obey his brain! Or maybe his brain wasn't sending or receiving the right information, for everything was beginning to swim before his eyes.

'Seein' me at that bleddy house outside Bonnyrig was bad enough,' McGowan rasped. 'Knowin' that Ah've been watchin' the wine bar and B.J. Mirlu since long before she slaughtered that other d.a.m.n animal at Sma'

Auchterbecky is a lot worse. But now ye've found this bleddy book o' mine - mah one error - and me hopin'

a' these years it would never come up again! Well, if s a' too much, and ye've done for yeresel', George.'

He came around the table; lanson could see his feet floating towards him, coming closer, expanding to the size of barges in his poisoned vision. Then, however numbly, he felt the vet's arms lifting him - but picking him up like a child - into the fireman's lift position. The strength of the man!

'In a way, it's opportune,' McGowan was speaking as much to himself as to the Inspector. They'll know ye were investigatin' the murder. When ye don't show up, they'll probably speak tae the girl again; that'll keep her busy. But they'll no' give me a second thought What? But auld Angus McGowan was yere pal! And Ahll be properly

107.106.

upset when Ah learn how ye've up and disappeared. But no as upset as yeresel', George.'

lanson felt himself carried out into the corridor, turned inward, into the house, borne along in darkness.

Motion ceased momentarily when McGowan paused to grasp his hair, tugging his face round to look him in the eye. And old Angus's eyes lit up the darkness like yellow lamps, like lumps of raw sulphur burning in his face, with the fires of h.e.l.l raging in their cores!

'Oh, but it has tae be a terrible thing, mah friend,' he said, 'tae stumble on such truths as these. And even then, not tae be able tae believe them! But ye will, ye will...'

There was a door, with stone steps descending to a cellar that lanson had never known was there. But then, why should he? Nitre-streaked walls brushed the Inspector's thigh and dangling arm, as the stale smell of dampness - and of something else - came wafting from below. Then McGowan must have tripped a light switch for the darkness was driven back a little, but not much.

These auld houses,' McGowan commented, shaking his head as he put lanson down on a wooden table.

When the tides are high, why, sometimes ye can smell the salt sea down here! But twenty-five years ago, Ah dug down two or three feet under the foundations - for sanitary rea sons, as yell see.' He jerked lanson's head on its side and pointed. Tsee that pipe there: that's an auld sewer, still runnin' out tae sea. Ah cut intae it and put a cover on it; mah verra own disposal unit ... for the wee bits o' rubbish Ah've no more use for. Yere bits, too, George, when Ah'm done wi' them. Ah, but it'll be a guid wee while yet afore Ah'm completely done wi' ye! Oh, we'll share many a guid square meal taegether first, eh, George?'

The Inspector lay there and gurgled. He desperately wanted to cry out but couldn't. He made noises like a man nightmaring, trying hard to wake up. Except he was awake and knew it ... but that didn't mean that this wasn't a nightmare. It was the worst possible nightmare!

And McGowan, wandering about in this loathsome subterranean den, muttering to himself and causing unknown but terrifying things to happen: the hiss of pressured gas, and crump! of sudden ignition; the clatter of tools taken up and laid aside, and the high-pitched yet sinister whirr as some sort of electrical apparatus powered into life. And the numbness, spreading into every part of lanson's body until he could no longer feel his arms and legs. And his eyes blurred as if they were filmed over. They probably were, for he was incapable of blinking to clear their lenses.

And as for what little he could see, maybe he'd be better off if he couldn't.

There was a bench to one side, where McGowan seemed to be selecting certain tools from a rack on the wall. And if lanson focussed his vision in the corner there... a stove?

And cooking utensils? And... and what, a blowtorch? With its flickering blue tongue of near-invisible fire beating on some kind of flat-f.l.a.n.g.ed branding iron, until it was beginning to radiate an orange heat of its own?

Finally the small man was finished with his... his preparations, whatever they were. Returning to lanson, he began to undress him. And the Inspector managing to gurgle, "Whaaa... ? Whaaa... ?'

'Aye,' McGowan told him, "ye're still firm-limbed, George. No quite the auld dodderer yet, eh? But that's more a problem than a compliment See, that stuff Ah gave ye will soon enough wear off, and Ah cannae be around a' the time. Man, yell soon be mobile again! And we cannae have that, now can we?'

In a while lanson had been stripped naked. Moving back to the bench and its rack of tools, McGowan called out to him: They knockout drops Ah put in yere drink: guid, are they no? Mah bosses in Sicily swear by them. And so should ye, George, so should ye. Why, yell no feel a thing! Later, perhaps, but no just the noo.'

He brought the sinister whirring thing back to the table and showed it to lanson: the blurred silver-gleaming disc of a surgeon's circular saw! But as McGowan held the terrible thi ng close and grinned at his victim's frozen expression, so lanson found himself far more fascinated and horrified by the little vef s face, mirrored in the fan of bri ght motion: Oh, it was McGowan all right - old Angus himself - but it wasn't human. Not all human, anyway. Perhaps other than human? Or more than human. Or a lot less: That gaping mouth, convolute snout, and red-ribbed throat that matched the cores of McGowan's feral yellow eyes! And his teeth - no longer perfect in their shape - but like shards of white gla.s.s sprouting from the crimson of his gums! And behind those teeth his tongue: deeply cleft and hideously mobile, and las.h.i.+ng like a crippled lizard in his mouth!

'Now then, see if ye can guess this wee riddle, George,' McGowan rasped as he pa.s.sed from view and the whirring of the saw became a rubbery vibration - sensed (or felt?) rather than heard - which seemed to physically move lanson and blurred his vision more yet. 'Where might a man expec' tae find a limbless police Inspector, eh?'

The vibration stopped, and McGowan's face swam back into view ... except it was spattered red, and the saw was whirring again as it sprayed a fine pink mist all around! "What? Dinnae tell me ye've given in a'ready?' McGowan grinned.

But indeed lanson had given in, fainting in the moment he recognized the red-dripping thing that McGowan held aloft So that he never heard the little man's answer to his own riddle, as he went106.

to fetch the white-hot iron, to cauterize the first of the Inspector's stumps: 'Why, where ye Itft him, o'

course...!'