Transylvania's Most Wanted

  Transylvania’s

  Most

  Wanted

  By M L Dunn

  Copyright 2013 M L Dunn

  Smashwords Edition

  Chapter 1

  It was unusual for Red to be summoned to the mayor’s office. In fact, in his whole time as chief inspector he never had been.

  The mayor’s secretary told him he could go on in, and as Red entered the room, the mayor was sitting at his desk talking to a distinguished-looking gentleman with gray hair. They seemed to be talking about the weather.

  “Here he is,” the mayor said, standing up. “I will let you two speak in private. Good to see you again, Red,” he said, as he walked to the door, shutting it behind him.

  “My name is Mr. Jordan,” the man said, rising from his chair to greet Red. “I’m with the Administration.”

  “I got a telegram from you not too long ago. In fact, two of them,” Red said, shaking Mr. Jordan’s hand.

  “That’s right. I sent you two young men I thought would make excellent recruits.”

  “One of them was killed,” Red said. “In the line of duty.”

  “Yes I know,” Mr. Jordan said. “I wish now I hadn’t sent him on to you.”

  “It might have helped had the Administration let us know Jack the Ripper was being dropped in our laps.”

  “Yes,” Mr. Jordan agreed. “Unfortunately, we are strictly forbidden from revealing such kinds of information.”

  “What do you want to see me about now?”

  “There’s the irony,” Mr. Jordan said, sitting back down. “I’ve come to warn you about a similar matter.”

  “Someone else been released from the dark realms? Attila the Hun, maybe?”

  Mr. Jordan smiled. “I wish it was that simple. I’m afraid this matter will require something more than turning the city upside-down looking for a madman. Why don’t you have a seat,” Mr. Jordan said, gesturing toward the leather couch against the wall.

  “What is it then?” Red asked as he sat down.

  Mr. Jordan leaned forward as Red noticed he was crushing the brim of his bowler with his fingers. “I have reason to believe a conspiracy is planning some evil act here in Transylvania City.”

  “What are they planning?” Red asked quickly. “Who are they?”

  “I have no idea. Neither could I tell you who exactly these conspirators are, but I have seen their handiwork before and I can tell you that it is not beneath them to blackmail, bribe, trick or coerce some person to carry out their dirty work for them,” Mr. Jordan explained. “I had to plead with my superiors just to be able to come here to tell you this much.”

  The two men sat staring at one another then: the one unable to say anything more, the other rendered speechless. Finally Red spoke. “The only thing out of the ordinary happening here now is the Prince and Princess visiting here from another realm.”

  Mr. Jordan said nothing.

  “Have you told me everything you intended to?” Red asked.

  “I’m afraid so, yes, but I may have some advice for you.”

  “All right.”

  “I’m trying to think of the best way to say it.”

  “Try saying whatever pops in your head first.”

  “Very well,” Mr. Jordan said. “Do you play chess?”

  “No,” Red said. “Never really cared for it, but I know the rules well enough.”

  “Well then, let’s just say a game was begun once long ago. Neither side has committed a move in some time now, but now our opponent has and the game is afoot again.”

  “That does not really tell me much,” Red said.

  “I know,” Mr. Jordan said. “I just want you to understand that you will be responsible for protecting the pieces on our side of the board, and by that I mean people’s lives are at stake,” he said. “Might not hurt to brush up on the strategy of how the game should be played.”

  “I’m not actually going to be playing chess, am I?”

  “No, of course not. It’s just that in this contest that you are about to be drawn into, people, as well as their actions, may appear to be something entirely different than what they really are.” Mr. Jordan stood up then. “Maybe I should not have said anything.”

  “You haven’t, really,” Red said, getting to his feet as well. He nodded at Mr. Jordan as he put his hat back on, and started out of the room.

  “Of course, it is the right of any public official to call upon a member of the Administration to witness the truthfulness of some official action taken in the presence of that same Administrator,” Mr. Jordan said cryptically as Red opened the door.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Yes, do that. I’ll be in the city the next few days, at The Fountain hotel if you need me.”

  Red nodded and left.

  Chapter 2

  The TCPD Defense

  As Red came out the City Hall building he looked around for the nearest call box, walked over and picked up the phone. He asked to be connected to the inspectors’ offices.

  “It’s me,” Red said when Miss Kensington answered. “Inspector Flynn was due back at work today. Has he checked in yet?”

  “He did, and I sent him downstairs to see Stone. He should be back soon.”

  Every few days, while being held in the TCPD jail, Stone would ask the guards to send for Inspector Flynn. Each time he promised he had some important information that he was only willing to pass on to Inspector Flynn. Of course, every time Tom arrived, Stone failed to deliver on his promise.

  Instead, the only information he had for Inspector Flynn was that he would be wise to double his life insurance because his wife would be collecting it soon, or that there was a coffin sale going on and Inspector Flynn should buy one because he was going to need it shortly.

  This charade had been going on for the past month, except for the last week, as Tom and Rebecca had been on their honeymoon.

  “It will take me a few minutes to get there,” Red told Miss Kensington. “If Inspector Flynn shows up before then, just send him out front.”

  “All right, dear.”

  When Red pulled up in front of the TCPD building, Tom was waiting for him.

  “What advice did Stone have for you today?” he asked, as Tom climbed in the car.

  “Told me there was a suit sale going on and I should check it out, because I would want a nice suit to be buried in.”

  Red chuckled at that. “My favorite was the one about needing to go to confession so you could die with a clear conscience. I don’t know how much longer he can keep coming up with them.”

  “That’s what I said to him today.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “He said he wouldn’t need to for much longer. Did you tell him he was going to be transferred out to the Bastille or something?”

  “No,” Red said, shaking his head. “It’s going to be awhile yet.”

  “Wonder what he meant then. Where we headed anyway?”

  “Oh, to see your wife, actually. Is she over at the library?”

  “No,” Tom said. “She’s at home.”

  “Oh, could we go see her there? Would she be up?”

  “She’s up. Let’s go see her.”

  “I’ll wait ‘til we get there to tell you what it’s all about. I’m not quite sure of the best way to explain this to you.”

  After asking about their trip and briefly being shown around the small home they had rented on a street where a number of other young constables and firemen lived with their wives, Red sat down at the kitchen table and accepted the cup of coffee Rebecca offered him.

  “Did you see those two zeppelins while you were in Londonium?”

  “Oh yes,” Rebecca said excitedly. �
��The Tempest is dark in color, like a storm cloud. It has a series of lights built into its outer hull that flash like lightning, and its horn sounds just like thunder. The Dauntless is the king’s personal craft, and both ships have large red stars on them to identify them as belonging to the U.R.R.K. It’s a shame they won’t be coming here.”

  “That is a shame,” Red said. “But I just learned today that Prince Marko and Princess Alexi are coming here to attend the Halloween Ball at the Hotel Triumph. However, they are coming by train. That’s what I was hoping you could help me with, actually.”

  “How can I help?”

  “I have a copy in my office, but I haven’t looked through it yet. I’m talking about the pamphlet they’ve been handing out about the U.R.R.K. Have you seen them?”

  “I have one,” Rebecca said. “I picked it up while we were in Londonium.”

  “Would you mind getting it?” While Rebecca hurried to another room to find it, Red turned to Tom. “You might find it interesting how all this came about.”

  “Really?”

  “Mr. Jordan, a member of the Administration, asked to talk with me today. I just come from the mayor’s office where I met with him.”

  “Mr. Jordan, the man who suggested I join the Flying Squad?”

  “Yes,” Red said. “He’s staying at The Fountain hotel. He warned me something might happen here. I can only assume it has something to do with this prince and princess visiting here.”

  “What else did he tell you?”

  “Absolutely nothing, other than to say the first moves of what he compared to a game of chess, were made long ago, and the board has sat untouched until just recently.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  Red shrugged his shoulders.

  “I found it,” Rebecca said, stepping back in the room.

  “Would you mind reading it to us?”

  Rebecca sat down and opened the pamphlet. “The U.R.R.K stands for The United Realm of Russians and Kreatures. I guess “creatures” is spelt with a K there,” she said. “It is the realm where people of Russian descent are sent, after their time on Earth is finished and is one of the few other realms where vampires, trolls, golems and witches live. While Britannia is much like England circa 1920, The U.R.R.K is much like Russia of circa 1900. The U.R.R.K. is a vast stretch of frozen tundra, and temperatures often drop to twenty below there. It is heavily forested in spots and it is estimated there are over forty breeding pairs of hell hounds there.”

  Red and Tom exchanged glances at learning this.

  “Every twenty-two years, the winds over the Pole die down enough for travel between Britannia and the U.R.R.K. to be possible,” Rebecca read.

  “Is that right?”

  “Twenty-two years ago,” Rebecca continued, “nearly a hundred vampires and other creatures emigrated from there after a prominent vampire was charged with treason and murder. Despite King Havel’s assurances for their safety, some persecution arose following this event, and some of the vampire community decided to leave there for Transylvania.”

  “Were you here then?” Tom asked.

  “No,” Red said. “I arrived here a couple of years later. But you say some creatures came here from there twenty-two years ago?”

  “That’s right,” Rebecca said.

  “I guess you might call that a long time,” Red said looking at Tom. “So what caused all the trouble?”

  “Let’s see,” Rebecca said flipping the page. “In the last few months of his life,” she began, “King Nikola took to his death bed. A year before, he had banished his eldest son, Yuri, from his sight. Yuri had fallen in love with a young witch named Anna and wanted to marry her, but King Nikola forbid it, so Yuri left the Royal City with her. By decree, King Nikola then took away Yuri’s birthright to the throne. After a year, King Nikola came to regret his rash decision, and he wished to be reconciled with Yuri. So he sent his most trusted advisor, Count Voorhees, a vampire, to find his son.”

  “Yuri and Anna, upon receiving the Count, learned King Nikola wished for their return. They traveled several days across the vast, cold landscape of the U.R.R.K to the Royal City. Prince Yuri’s reunion with his father was a happy occasion, made even happier when King Nikola learned that Anna was pregnant. The king was doubly glad, for Yuri’s younger brother and his wife were also expecting, their second child.”

  “I can see trouble coming,” Tom said.

  “Only days later, King Nikola died just after midnight,” Rebecca continued. “When some of the King’s Guard went to awaken Prince Yuri to tell him, they discovered Count Voorhees trying to kill Prince Havel while Prince Yuri lay already dead at their feet. The captain of the guard rushed to Prince Havel’s aid, as Count Voorhees fled through a secret passageway.

  Count Voorhees had gone to Prince Yuri with a plot that they conspire to kill Prince Havel, so that Prince Yuri could be king. He told Yuri that he had already summoned Prince Havel there. Prince Yuri though, wanted no part in the Count’s evil plan, so Count Voorhees murdered him. He then lay in wait for Prince Havel.”

  “Wow.”

  “At the shock of both King Nikola and Yuri’s deaths, both Anna and Havel’s wife, Diana, went into labor that same tragic night. While both deliveries were difficult, Princess Diana gave birth to a girl, while, probably from the trauma of her husband’s death--the witch Anna’s child was stillborn. The next day Count Voorhees was captured and executed.”

  “You can’t make this stuff up,” Tom remarked.

  “In the following days, stricken with grief, the witch Anna’s mental state collapsed and she began attempting to place spells upon anyone who tried to comfort her, but eventually, for her own safety and that of the king’s servants, she was locked away in the King’s Tower. It so happened that that year was a year that the winds over the pole settled long enough that travel between them the two realms was possible and a representative of the Administration suggested Count Voorhees descendants, including his only son, Vasili, and others loyal to the Karloff vampire line, be allowed to immigrate to Transylvania, so as to avoid any retribution for Count Voorhees act of treason. King Havel, in his great wisdom and generosity, while promising to protect Count Voorhees’ family if they wanted to stay, did allow those who wished to leave, permission to do so.”

  “That’s who that Count Vasili is then that I read about in the papers every now and then,” Tom said.

  “What else is there?” Red asked pointing at the pamphlet and Rebecca began reading again, but the remaining information was about the two zeppelins, how they had some advanced technology and both were twice as long as any zeppelin in Britannia. The last thing they learned was that the U.R.R.K. is sometimes affectionately referred to as Mother Rusha, a joke begun by those arriving there from Russia. “That’s all?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Would the library have anything more?”

  “There would be some newspaper articles from back then, or you could talk to someone that came from there. Count Vasili possibly.”

  “Don’t know that I want to do that,” Red said. “Maybe someone else. There must be some record of all of them that arrived here from there?”

  “The Hall of Records should have something.”

  “Let’s head over there,” Red told Tom.

  “Can I go too?” Rebecca asked.

  “Sure why not.”

  They headed to the Hall of Records which was located across from City Hall. Red flashed the lady at the counter there his badge and explained to her what he wanted.

  It took the lady a few minutes to locate the file, but soon she produced a list of all creatures that had arrived from the U.R.R.K.

  Red, Tom and Rebecca sat down at a table and began looking through the list of names, and the species of creature; vampire, hobgoblin or the like.

  “All these names are Russian,” Tom said.

  “I’m sure most of the goblins and golems have taken English names now. My guess is some of the vampire
s have Anglicized their names now.

  “Like here,” Red said pointing. “Kracosokov, that might Krakov now.”

  “He came from there?”

  “Looks like it,” Red said.

  “Only one witch came from there,” Rebecca said looking down the list. “Her name is Pandora.”

  “That’s not Russian. Greek mythology right?” Tom asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “Pandora,” Red repeated. “Never heard of her. Wonder why they shipped her out of Mother Rusha? I think I’ll send you and Miss Kensington out to Pendle Hill to see what you two can find out about her.”

  “All right,” Tom said.

  Chapter 3

  The Opponent

  At that very moment a man stepped off the Vulture. From there the man went and checked into the Strigoi Hotel under the name of Arrowsmith, but that was not his name. His real name was Slangakova; his first name nobody living knew, and none knew the name Slangakova either, but a few living, and many dead, knew of a man who went by the name Mr. Slang.

  It would serve you well to remember this name, just in case, in some future life, you have the unfortunate, ruinous luck, to run into a man calling himself Mr. Slang.

  At the time of this story, Mr. Slang was living out his fourth life. The first, as well as anyone else’s, is spent on Earth, but having killed a number of men in that lifetime, mostly during wartime, but not all, and not having felt much remorse afterwards, but some, Mr. Slang was sent to a dark realm when he died. Not the darkest of realms by any means, but a place where war is always being waged and cities are always under siege and fleeing armies and refugees move about the land.

  Most men would wish to escape a city about to fall to an invading army, but not Mr. Slang. He was drawn to them. Opportunity abounds among the desperate and afraid, they are ripe for plucking, and as well there is a kind of excitement and urgency, on a scale that can be found under no other circumstances. War is hell, precisely because of the sheer number of participants. Mr. Slang soon developed a trade in smuggling people out of such places, or, sometimes, providing just the opposite service, seeing that certain others did not manage to escape.