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  He thought about the adjoining room, but he would have to throw the rope over to the ballroom balcony and make it catch on something there and then hope no one saw it. That would not do, that was even more of a risk, he determined. Looking at the rope now, he wasn’t sure it was even long enough for the additional distance. No this room would have to do.

  He quietly went to work slipping the rope around the two legs at the foot of the bed and tied a knot. The woman stirred a little, but did not wake. He went to the room’s window and opened it a crack. A slight breeze entered and some noise drifted in, but the woman remained asleep. He lowered the rope down and found it was just long enough to reach the balcony below that came off the grand ballroom. There was a small column running up the wall of the hotel and the rope hung just a foot out of sight of anyone standing out on the balcony.

  The woman stirred behind him and as she reached for the lamp on the bedside table, Mr. Slang slipped behind the curtain. The woman turned on a light, got up and headed for the bathroom. Fortunately she did not notice the curtain fluttering in the breeze.

  As soon as she turned the corner at the end of the hallway, Mr. Slang slid the window back down, leaving it open just a enough, and then waited for her to return to bed. He was afraid to leave before she did, fearing she might spot the rope lying on the floor. She was in the bathroom for some time. In the light coming in the window, Mr. Slang looked at his watch. He had time still, but if she did not return to bed soon or if she discovered him there. Well then, something would have to be done.

  A couple of minutes more and Mr. Slang was becoming impatient, a state which usually took Mr. Slang some time to work up to. He pulled a knife from his pocket and stepped out from behind the curtain, but then heard her coming out the bathroom. He slipped back behind the curtain, but he did not have time to make sure his shoes were not sticking out. The rope lay on the floor, running from the end of the bed to the window. The woman returned to bed wearing a nightgown, but fortunately she did not spot the rope. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. She turned the light off and the room fell dark again. He waited a few moments before stepping out from behind the curtain. He checked the knot again. He was sure she was awake as he slipped out the room, but her eyes were closed and he left without her knowing how close she had come to being sent to the next realm.

  He went back to room 324, retrieved his suitcase and hat box and before leaving, made sure he’d not left anything behind or any light on. He used the stairs at the end of the hallway to exit the hotel.

  Next Mr. Slang headed around back and walked down the boardwalk to the river. He looked under the pier and saw the small rental boat tied there. He opened his suitcase, took out a raincoat and placed it in the boat.

  Then he went back toward the hotel, around the corner of the building, past the large fountain with the statue of Perseus, and threw a coin in it for luck.

  The hotel was set back fifty yards from the street and Mr. Slang walked down the busy sidewalk until he came to Madness Street. He crossed it and made his way to the side of a two story building that faced toward the hotel. He went down the alleyway to a door there, and waited until no one was passing by on the sidewalk before he brought his tools out and let himself in. No one saw him step inside the building. He left the door unlocked and went up to the top floor and let himself in the offices of J. P Underwood, Attorney at law. He slipped inside Mr. Underwood’s office and pulled a chair closer to the window. He did not turn any lights on. From there he had a nice view across the street to the balcony and into the grand ballroom.

  “Have you been here long?” Mr. Slang asked once he had settled into the chair.

  “Just a few minutes,” Krakov said realizing he’d been discovered and stepping out from behind the curtain.

  Chapter 11

  “Here comes your date,” Tom said tapping Inspector McElroy on the elbow. “That’s her isn’t it?”

  Inspector McElroy looked toward the ballroom doors. “That’s her,” he said raising his arm so Edith Wembley would see him. “I had coffee with her last night,” Mac said as the young woman, wearing a gown so wide she was in danger of knocking glasses off tables, worked her way toward their table. “She arrived in Britannia a year ago, but she decided not to be reunited with any of her three husbands that preceded her in death, since two have since remarried and the other is presently in one of the dark realms,” McElroy explained. Miss Wembley waved at them as she slipped between a couple on the dance floor. “It’s odd to think that a year ago she was eighty-five-years-old.”

  “She looks good then,” Tom said.

  The men stood as Miss Wembley arrived at their table.

  “Oh, champagne. I love champagne,” she said seeing a bottle there.

  Red poured her a glass as Inspector McElroy introduced her to Tom and Rebecca, Red and Miss Kensington, Commander Gates and his wife.

  “This is Edith, but she likes to be called Edie,” Inspector McElroy told them.

  “I like that,” Rebecca said.

  “Yes,” Edie said. “No one would ever call me that on Earth, but when I arrived here, I decided that’s what I would go by now,” she said accepting a glass of champagne. She sipped it and smiled. “Oh,” she said opening her purse. “I brought you something Inspector Flynn.” She handed Tom a piece of paper then.

  “What’s this?”

  “The form you asked for yesterday. The one you saw was in my handwriting. This one was filled out by Pandora, but when I looked at it, it was nearly unreadable so I filled out another for her and threw this one in the trash. I happened to notice it in the basket after you left and I thought I would bring it to you, just in case you wanted to look at it.”

  “Thanks,” he said, noticing the coffee stains on it. He slipped it in his pocket thinking he didn’t need it anymore.

  “Why don’t you and I take a walk,” Red said tapping Tom on the shoulder. “We’ll let Mac stay here with his guest,” he said when Inspector McElroy went to get up too.

  Red and Tom took opposite sides of the room and just started moving through the crowd, looking for anyone that seemed particularly nervous or seemed to purposely move away from them. Despite them wearing tuxedos, most people understood they were policeman from their arm-bands and, for those that spotted them - the small revolvers tucked under their coattails.

  They made a sweep of the room and the adjoining balcony and then met just outside the ballroom doors. Tom told Red he hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. Transylvania City ordinary that was, as where else could you see vampires and vampiress mixing with humans dressed in tuxedos and beautiful gowns while being served drinks by goblin waiters.

  “I don’t think anything is going to happen. I’m starting to think this note is just somebody’s way of getting back at the country that kicked him out,” Red said patting his pocket.

  “You have it on you?

  “Yeah,” Red said. “I was going to hand it back to Chief Roger’s secretary, but then I decided to hold onto it awhile.”

  “Can I look at it?”

  “Sure,” Red said handing Tom it. “There’s Sergeant Hightower,” he said looking toward the top of the stairs where Sergeant Hightower stood waving Red over toward him. As Red went to talk with him Tom pulled the form Miss Wembley had given him and started comparing the handwriting on it to the death threat the department had received.

  Chapter 12

  “Did you cut your hair like I asked?” Mr. Slang asked as he rose out of his chair to open the window and let some breeze in the room. Music, just barely loud enough to be heard, drifted into the room along with fresh air.

  “I did.” Krakov said as Mr. Slang sat down again in the plush chair he’d placed so he could sit and look out the window at the ballroom across the street.

  “Pull up a chair,” Mr. Slang said. “It’s going to be a little while yet.” Mr. Slang craned his neck around to look at Krakov as he grabbed a chair and brought it toward the window. “And you’re wearing
a tux, good.”

  “I saw you coming from the Triumph,” Krakov said. “Is that the ball I’ll be attending?”

  “It is.”

  “The person I am to kill, they will be at the ball?’

  “Yes. I told you it would not be easy.”

  “If it was, then you would not need me.”

  “Yes,” Mr. Slang said as Krakov sat down and looked out the window. “She’ll be coming along soon.”

  “She?”

  “Yes. Is that a problem?”

  “No,” Krakov said shaking his head. “Just not what I was expecting.”

  For a few moments they sat together in silence, Mr. Slang tapping his fingers on the armrest to Tchaikovsky.

  When the music stopped, Mr. Slang picked up the hat box off the floor and opened it. He took out a top hat and handed it to Krakov.

  “Vampires don’t wear hats,” Krakov said.

  “Exactly. You won’t be wearing it long. You need to pass yourself off as a member of the U.R.R.K delegation. That’s how you’ll get the gun past the constables. Don’t smile and mumble if you do have to say anything. It’s important no one sees your fangs. That’s also why I wanted you to have short hair, look more like a human.”

  Krakov set the hat on his lap as Mr. Slang set the hat box back down on the floor, picked up the suitcase, set it on his lap and opened it.

  “Here’s a coat,” Mr. Slang said pulling one out. “Give me yours.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ll need to check your hat and coat in at the coat-check room. If you wear your own coat – you won’t get it back.”

  Krakov stood and removed a letter out of his coat pocket before taking it off and handing it to Mr. Slang.

  Mr. Slang folded Krakov’s coat and put it in his suitcase, then he pulled out a pistol. He handed it to Krakov. “It’s a perfectly clean weapon, untraceable, but after the job’s done, drop it in the river. Here’s your ticket,” he said handing him one to the ball and then he handed Krakov a white silk handkerchief.

  “What is this for?”

  “When you enter the hotel, head straight for the staircase leading up to the second floor. You’ll be met by two constables. They are frisking everyone for weapons and they’ve been doing a very thorough job of it. I’m afraid our task was made more difficult earlier today when someone sent the TCPD a note threatening the life of Prince Marko.”

  “Do you know who sent the note?”

  “Yes I do, but you do not need to concern yourself with such trivialities.”

  “So what do I do with this handkerchief?”

  “Simply have it in your breast pocket when you approach the constables with the red star visible. They’ll think you are one of the King’s Guard and they’ll not frisk you for a weapon. Here take this too,” he said handing Krakov an identification card.

  “I have seen these before, it is the identification the King’s Guard carries,” Krakov said looking at it in the dim light. “This is a very good forgery.”

  “Isn’t it,” Mr. Slang said. “Flash it at the constables and they’ll wave you past them. If they do ask you anything, pretend you don’t understand English. Mumble something to them in Russian. You’ve kept your Russian up haven’t you?”

  “Yes. Speaking English is bile in my mouth. I spit the words out because I do like them. I hope after tonight I never hear anyone say, bloody, or governor or old chap ever again.”

  Mr. Slang smiled at that as he handed Krakov a black arm band.

  “What’s this for?”

  “Once you get past the constables, you’re not out of the woods yet. You’ll still need to get your weapon past the King’s Guard at the entrance to the ballroom.”

  “I could carry it in under my coat.”

  “No, that won’t work. Every coat and hat is to be checked at the coat check room at the top of the stairs. And then you have to walk past the King’s Guard. They’re likely to spot your weapon, but if you’re wearing your black arm-band they’ll think you are one of the detectives working the ball tonight.”

  “So there are policeman inside the ballroom.”

  “Yes.”

  “And they are armed?’

  “I’m afraid so,” Mr. Slang said, “but you’ll know who they are by their arm bands. I believe there will be three of them inside the ballroom as well as a Commander Gates.”

  “I may have to kill them if they get in my way.”

  “If you have to,” Mr. Slang said. “Now as soon as you get past them, slip the armband off before any of the detectives see you wearing it. Try and keep your distance from them so they don’t spot that weapon on you.”

  “I hope not to be there long,”

  “Exactly. At precisely 8:30 the fireworks will start. The lights in the room will be dimmed and plenty of people there will head out onto the balcony. Use the confusion and noise to approach your target then and fire three or four shots into her. Then get the hell out of there.”

  “How?”

  “At the south end of the balcony,” Mr. Slang said standing up and pointing out the window. “There is a rope hanging from the hotel room… there,” he said pointing. “See that colonnade running up the side of building just to the side of the balcony?”

  “Yes.”

  “The rope is hanging there just out of sight. Climb it to the window above and slip in the room there quick. The window is not locked. You should be able to do that in no time flat. There’s just one problem.”

  “What?”

  “There was a woman asleep in the room, so I was not able to slide the bed up against the wall.” Krakov glanced at Mr. Slang then. “It was the best I could do. So the rope will give when you first start to climb it, maybe four or five feet, but then you’ll be able to shimmy up into the room.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then go out that room and head for room 324. You’ll find it just other side of hall to your left,” he said handing Krakov the key.

  “Okay.”

  “Get to the window, throw it open and use the rope tied there to lower yourself down to the ground. It’s dark near the wall there and no one should see you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Then head straight for the river. You’ll find a rental boat tied up underneath the pier. Get in it. Put on the raincoat I left you in there to cover up your tuxedo and then row out into the river. Make sure to drop the gun in the river.”

  “There should be plenty of boats floating down the river tonight,” Krakov said, seeing the wisdom in Mr. Slang’s escape plan.

  “Exactly. Float down to the footbridge that leads into Goblin Park. Don’t be in a hurry. Once you get underneath the bridge, beach it on the north side, get out and start walking, don’t run, toward the north end of the park, toward the woods. I’ll be there waiting for you. I’ve arranged a safe house for you to stay at until we can get you out of here.”

  “And how will you get me out of Transylvania City and back to the U.R.R.K.?”

  “I think you know how. You’ll be a stowaway aboard one of the Graff Zeppelins.”

  “You are working with someone who is part of the U.R.R.K. delegation?”

  “Coming from the U.R.R.K. you should know that things rarely are the way they appear to be. It should not matter to you who I am working for. What you have been hired to do tonight is just a small move in a much larger game. All you need worry is, if I can sneak you aboard one of the airships and I assure you I can.”

  “And what happens when I do return home. Will the King’s Guard be hunting me?”

  “They’ll never know you returned home,” Mr. Slang said reaching into his suitcase and bringing out the last, but most important item he needed Krakov to have. “Here are your bullets.”

  “I wish I knew who I was working for,” Krakov said beginning to load the gun.

  “It shouldn’t matter to you. No one in this contest is totally innocent,” Mr. Slang confessed. “But if things go badly - you’d be better off using one o
f those bullets on yourself.”

  “May I ask a favor of you?” Krakov asked, taking the letter he’d brought with him out of his pocket. “If for some reason I do not make it, would you drop this letter in the mail when you return to the U.R.R.K.?”

  “Who’s it addressed to?”

  “My wife.”

  Mr. Slang took the letter. “I did not know you were married.”

  “I have not seen her in twenty two years. My son would be a full grown vampire now. When I was exiled here, they would not let them come with me.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Mr. Slang said looking at the address and seeing it was a village in the U.R.R.K. “Many unfortunate things happened back then, the country was in much turmoil.”

  “Since you’ve been here, have you heard any about what happened here just a few weeks ago?” Krakov asked.

  “Jack the Ripper?”

  “Yes,” Krakov said. “He had a plan to escape to Earth.”

  “Damn clever plan,” Mr. Slang said. “And you were planning on going there with him?”

  “Yes, but for my own reasons.”

  “What?”

  “A loophole.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you know which realm a vampire would go to next if he was to die here in Britannia?”

  “I haven’t any idea,” Mr. Slang said.

  “Nobody does,” Krakov said shaking his head. “But do you know which realm they send a Russian vampire to, if they die on Earth?”

  “The U.R.R.K.,” Mr. Slang realizing then why Krakov had wanted to escape to Earth.

  “That’s right,” Krakov said. “Could I ask one last favor?”

  “Certainly.”

  “If things do go badly. I’ve asked my brother to approach the U.R.R.K. delegation and ask that my body be returned home. I don’t know if you could do anything to see to it that his request is granted, but if you could, I would appreciate it.”