The Dracula Caper

13

They ran through the narrow subterranean corridor, stumbling in the dark over soft, furry shapes that squealed in protest and snapped at their shoes, but neither man gave any thought to the rats as they fled. They ran blindly in the dark, their hands held out before them, hearing behind them the howling of the creatures released from their dungeon cells and the crashing of glass and equipment as they destroyed the underground laboratory.

Stoker grunted with pain as he fell forward onto the stairs leading up to the great hall of the castle and Conan Doyle dragged him to his feet, hooking his arm around him.

Hurry, man! We must flee for our very lives!"

They half ran, half stumbled up the damp stone steps, feeling their way along the slimy wall in the darkness. Behind them, the inhuman screaming sounded terrifyingly closer. At last, they reached the door at the top of the steps and threw it open. Gasping for breath, they lunged through it and then slammed it shut, throwing their weight against it.

"The bolt!" said Doyle. "Quickly, throw the bolt!" "It's stuck!" said Stoker.

Doyle added his strength to that of Stoker's and the iron bolt shot home.

"That should hold them!" Stoker said.

"I would not wish to stake my life on it." said Doyle. breathing hard. "I shall not feel safe until we're gone from this accursed place!"

"But how?" said Stoker. "How do we get hack home?"

"Steady, old friend,” said Doyle. "One problem at a time. We are not safe yet. Quickly, we must find our way out of this place."

They started to run across the great hall when a deep, reverberant voice cried out. ''Stand where vou are!"

Startled, both men stopped in the center of the great hall. Drakov stood above them on the curved stairway, with Jasmine and Moreau.

"Who are you?" said Conan Doyle.

"The question, sir, is who are you." said Drakov, "and how did you get here?"

Before they could reply, the door to the stairway leading down to the dungeon splintered and broke and the hall became filled with the howling screams of the creatures from the dungeons. Drakov's head jerked towards them as they streamed out into the great hall and in that moment. Jasmine's foot whipped out and kicked the laser from his hand. They grappled for a moment and then Drakov shoved her away from him. She fell into Moreau and they both tumbled down the stairs.

“ STOP!” S houted Drakov.

The creatures all fell silent instantly and stopped where they were, staring up at him fearfully.

"My God. Arthur," Stoker said, as they backed slowly away from the suddenly immobile creatures. "Look how they watch him!"

"With the manner of whipped dogs," said Doyle. "Whoever this man is, he is obviously their master. And our fate is entirely in his hands.”

"Dear God, Nikolai," Moreau said, staring at the creatures who cowered before Drakov. "What have you done'?"

"I would not advise anyone to move," said Drakov. "Moreau, I will thank you to retrieve my laser and return it to me, otherwise I will have them tear those men to pieces right before your eyes. Remember. I am all that protects you from them now. One word from me and they will attack without mercy."

"Arthur, what do we do?" said Stoker.

"For the moment, it appears that we must stand very still and do whatever that man tells us." Conan Doyle said. "If we triedto run now, they would bring us down before we had run twenty feet.”

"The laser, Moreau," said Drakov. "Now!"

Moreau felt Jasmine tense and he took hold of her firmly. "We must do as he says. he told her.

Together, they went over to where the laser pistol had fallen and Moreau bent down to pick it up. Drakov remained where he was, on the long stairway leading down from the upper floor. Doyle and Stoker stood closeto one another in the center of the great hall, between Drakov and his creatures.

"Look at them!" said Stoker, his voice scarcely above a whisper. "They cannot possibly be human!"

"No. Stoker, Doyle said, staring at the creatures, "I am afraid they are. Only something terrible has been done to them, something beyond all reason. Their minds have snapped, poor devils, and vet this man controls them with a word. He has them mesmerized. It appears that we have found the guiding intelligence behind these awful crimes and he is without a doubt a madman."

"And who are you, sir, to call me mad?" said Drakov. "I repeat my question. What are you doing here and how did you get here?"

"My name is Arthur Conan Doyle and this is Mr. Bram Stoker. As to how we came here, we were rendered unconscious and abducted, brought here against our will by Count Dracula. And now you have the advantage of me, sir. "Indeed I do," said Drakov with a smile. "I admire your composure, Dr. Doyle, but then I would expect no less from the distinguished creator of Sherlock Holmes. My name is Nikolai Drakov. Forgive nit for not having recognized you, but I hardly expected to find you here, of all places. I had heard that you were working with Scotland Yard. Allow me to congratulate you for having come so far. And as for you, Mr. Stoker, your presence here is an exquisite irony. Where is Dracula?"

"It was he who released those wretches from their dungeon cells." said Stoker.

"And has doubtless been torn to pieces for his trouble, the sentimental fool," said Drakov. "What a pity. What a criminal waste. He was my prize, my greatest achievement! You should have seen him, Moreau!”

Moreau raised the laser pistol, but Conan Doyle shouted, — Don't do it, man! Don't be a fool! He is all that holds these murderous creatures in check!"

Moreau hesitated.

"Well, Moreau," said Drakov, smiling down at him, "go on, shoot. You wanted to kill me. You will never get another chance. But kill me and you condemn yourself and the others to a decidedly unpleasant death."

With an air of helpless resignation, Moreau started to lower the weapon.

"Wait, Mr. Moreau!" said Doyle, his voice ringing out in the great hall, echoing off the ancient walls. "So long as you possess that weapon, we still have a chance. Kill him, and the creatures will be freed from his will, released to butcher every one of us. But so long as you possess that weapon, you still have the threat of death over him. And that, I assure you, is undoubtedly all that is keeping us alive! We are at a stalemate."

Jasmine ran to Moreau's side and clutched his arm. Moreau raised the laser once again and pointed it at Drakov.

"Very good, Dr. Doyle," said Drakov. "Moreau was always spineless, but I had not counted on you to bolster him up. Between you, the girl, and his newly awakened sense of morality, he is becoming a veritable pillar of masculine vigor.”

"Don't let him rattle you. Moreau," said Doyle. "He wants to make you angry. Anger makes people's hands shake, their aim becomes unsteady."

"Time does much the same thing. Dr. Doyle," said Drakov. "How long do you think we can all stand here before his arm starts to become tired?"

"However long it takes for us to resolve this stalemate and leave here safely," Doyle said. "If his arm should become tired, he can pass the pistol to the girl. She seems capable enough."

"As are you, apparently,” said Drakov. "What happens now? Even if I were to let you leave, under the threat of being shot, how far do you think you would get before they ran you down? Look at them. They need but one word from me and they will tear you apart. They have been down in the dungeons for a long time. And they are hungry.”

"We could take you with us as our hostage," Stoker said. "I do not think so, Mr. Stoker. I have no intention of moving from this spot. Perhaps you would try taking me by force?" "Stay away from him!" Moreau said. "He has at least three times your strength and he is an expert in the art of unarmed combat. You would have no chance against him."

"At the risk of sounding immodest," Drakov said, "he is quite correct. Your position is untenable. Dr. Doyle. I am not sure how long I can hold them back. They are quite difficult to control, sometimes. Personally. I do not wish either you or Mr. Stoker any harm. I never intended that you should become involved in this."

"Precisely what did you intend?" said Doyle. "These poor creatures have obviously been the victims of some sort of brutal and perverse medical experimentation. Leaving aside the despicable act itself and the question of morality, it took the skills and knowledge of a genius to accomplish this. How could a man of such obvious intelligence do such a horrifying thing? What possible reason could there be to justify such cruelty?"

"Cruelty. Dr. Doyle'?" said Drakov. "You speak to me of cruelty? What do you know of cruelty, you who have enjoyed a life of pampered indolence and taken it for granted, your facility with words netting you sums of money that would feed entire families for months? Your trade is that of obfuscator! You weave pretty little spells to entertain the masses, or at least those privileged enough to have one shilling to spend for a copy of Lippincott's Monthly Magazine. Spells meant to distract them from the squalor of reality; stories meant to entertain them so there will be no necessity to think! Lord forbid that they should think, for thinking is dangerous and most of them do not do it very well! Let them think and they will devise new ways to further degrade themselves and despoil the world, a world they look upon as nothing more than property to be used, bartered and developed!

"The beasts of the jungle have more ethics than they do," Drakov continued. "When the tiger makes a kill, it consumes enough to satisfy itself, but it leaves something behind for the hyena and the hyena in turn leaves something for the rodents and the insects, each-by instinct-taking only what is needed to survive, each leaving something for the others. And what does your noble species do, Dr. Doyle? They kill for the sake of pleasure and they consume for the sake of greed, leaving nothing behind for anyone! Their instinct is only for rape and domination, their drive towards self-destruction!”

"I have had generations in which to study cruelty, Dr. Doyle, to experience it firsthand! I have seen humanity spread out over the world like maggots on a carcass, breeding on it, choking it, all in the name of progress, when their true motives were gluttony for wealth and lust for power and their only progress was the progress of decay! You call what I've done cruelty? No, Dr. Doyle, it is a kindness, the last kindness that anyone can give to a beast in its dying agonies, the kindness of the coup de grace!”

"The man is hopelessly insane!" said Stoker.

"He is worse than insane," said Doyle. "He is a cynic. For a madman, it is at least possible to feel pity. For a cynic, one can feel nothing, because the cynic does not suffer. He does not feel. He has enclosed himself within his armor of disdain; his buckler is contempt and his shield is bitterness. His lance is sarcasm and his sword is pessimism, but they are blunted weapons, dulled by hopelessness. Yes, Mr.

Drakov, I do have a facility for words, as you put it, not unlike yourself, yet the words I live by do more than merely entertain. They set forth the principles by which I believe we can avoid those dying agonies you speak of. There are things worth living for, worth dying for, and it is that which separates us from the jungle beasts, that the best of us will live for honor and die for an idea. If I die here today, I die knowing that I have done my best and that even if I ultimately failed, the struggle was worth it even so. I will have died for something. You, on the other hand, seem to have nothing left to live for and your death, when it comes, will have no meaning. In these poor, tortured creatures, you have not recreated humanity stripped of its pretensions, as you might believe. Rather, you have made them living mirrors of yourself. I shall pity them, even as they kill me, but I shall never pity you, because you are not deserving of it."

"I could not have said it better," Forrester said.

Drakov spun around. “ You!"

Forrester fired.

The plasma blast took Drakov in the chest and blew him back against the wall as he exploded in a ball of fire. The creatures howled and surged forward, but the time commandos opened up with their disruptors on a wide spray pattern, laying down a deadly stream of neutrons. Moreau tackled Doyle and Stoker, knocking them off their feet and shielding them with his body as he yelled at Jasmine to get down. Creatures wreathed in a blur aura of Cherenkov radiation staggered forward for a step or two before their atoms were disintegrated. Forrester added the firepower of his plasma pistol to the disruptors of the commandos and creatures erupted into flames, flames which consumed them before they even had the time to scream. With all of them bunched up the way they were, there was no chance for any of them to escape. It took less than a minute.

"All right, Moreau," said Steiger, aiming his weapon down at him. "Get up and stand away from them."

"No!" said Jasmine, throwing herself in front of Moreau. Doyle and Stoker slowly got back up to their feet, stunned by what they had just seen.

"You made an agreement, Colonel Steiger," said Lin Tao from behind them. "I will expect you to honor it."

He stood just behind Andre, pinching her with his thumb and forefinger at the base of the skull, exerting tremendous pressure. She stood stiffened, paralyzed, trembling slightly. With his other hand, he plucked the disruptor from her grip, then released her. She collapsed to her knees with a gasp of pain.

"Rest assured, she has not been seriously injured," said Lin Tao, aiming the disruptor at Steiger. "However, I perceive that the extent of injury given by this device cannot be controlled quite so precisely. I have closely observed its use. It does not seem to require much skill. Please lower your weapons."

As they complied, Delaney, who stood closest, launched a kick, but Lin Tao's aim didn't even waver. In one smooth motion, he stepped back and used his free hand to impel more motion to Delaney's foot, so that Delaney was carried off balance by the force of his own kick and straight up into the air. For a fraction of a second, he seemed to hang horizontal in midair, then he crashed to the floor, flat on his back.

Moreau took advantage of the distraction to grab Jasmine and quickly activate his warp disc. Doyle and Stoker stared in disbelief as Moreau and Jasmine disappeared.

"Did you see it?" Stoker said. "I cannot believe my eyes! They simply vanished! How…" He shook his head, unable to go on.

"I do not know how, old friend." said Doyle, "but wherever that man has gone, he could have escaped in such a manner at any time. It seems he stayed for us. Whoever he was, we owe him our lives."

"We promised not to kill him. Lin Tao," said Forrester. "but we can't let him go free. We're grateful for your help, but you know we'll have to hunt him down. He's a dangerous man."

"Perhaps General, in an earlier life. he was," Lin Tao said, "but he is no longer. He has left behind his work, his world, indeed everything he knows. I understand how he must feel. I know what it means to become cast adrift in a new world. All he wants is to find a small, insignificant place for himself in it. He may have nothing left of his old world, but in this new one, he has at least found friends and that, I have learned over my long years, is priceless and most valuable. He has suffered more from his own conscience than from any punishment you could inflict upon him. Have you never made a mistake, General, for which you could not forgive yourself?"

Forrester held the old man's gaze for a long moment, then he looked away.

"You will have much to do here," Lin Tao said. "And you have your warp discs to take you back to where you came from. The passage through time which leads here from the warehouse shall be destroyed. And this weapon I have taken shall be delivered to your friends at the Charing Cross Hotel. I give you my word that you have nothing to fear from myself or Phillipe Moreau. I have fulfilled my part of the bargain. All I ask is that you honor yours. I do not think that we shall meet again. Goodbye."

He bowed very slightly, never taking his eyes off them, and backed away towards the room at the far end of the corridor on the upper floor, which contained the mate to the chronoplate hack in the warehouse. The moment he was out of sight. Steiger lunged after him.

"Steiger!" said Forester.

"Sir, if we hurry, he won't have time to-"

"As you were."

Steiger looked as if he were about to say something, but he clenched his fists and took a deep breath, let it out slowly and said, "Yes, sir."

Forrester glanced at Finn and Andre.

"You think I'm making a mistake?" he said.

Delaney shrugged. "If you did, we'll probably find out about it sooner or later. I do know we never would've gotten here without their help."

"I don't know if I could ever trust Moreau." said Andre. "But I think I can trust that strange old man:*

"He does put that out, doesn't he?" said Forrester.

Steiger shook his head. "If you ask me, I think you're all crazy," he said. He glanced down at Doyle and Stoker, who stood looking up at them like two lost little boys. "And I'd hate to ask them what they think."

Andre looked at Doyle and Stoker, then turned back to Forrester. "I think we've got a problem, sir."

Delaney snorted. "So what else is new?"

Grayson smelled the smoke as he came into the courtyard. He blew several sharp blasts on his whistle, then broke into a run as he saw the flames start to lick up from the warehouse roof. In a moment, he saw that putting out the fire would be impossible. By the time the fire department arrived, it would be all that they could do to save the neighboring buildings. And then he froze when he saw what was nailed to the warehouse door.

Smoke streamed from the cracks around the wooden warehouse door. framing the body of Tony Hesketh, which was nailed to the door by an iron railroad spike driven through its chest. The corpse's head lolled grotesquely on its neck, blood and from the corner of its mouth, open to reveal long, protruding canine teeth.

Tremayne came running, up to stand beside him, " Jesus. Mary and Joseph!" he said. And then words failed him.

Sparks shot high into the air, swirling like swarms of fireflies. The building groaned as the flames destroyed it and wood cracked as the roof started to fall in. The door started to burn and as the flames licked at the body, Grayson stood and stared at the dark green ribbon tied around the end of the iron spike.