Senator Chuck Eagerson

Theresa Scholes, March 1959, New York

 

“So there are three reasons to feel unsafe right now?” I looked over my plastic cup of wine.

“Precisely,” Valérie nodded, “And each one is a Lulu on its own.”

“We’re both pretty sure Georgie’s operation has a leak somewhere,” I recapped, “you think we’re being held back from the main mission, and now we’ve not been told everything about Tomas Lucescu.”

“Precisely,” Valérie lay back on one of the room’s twin beds. “There was far more on the board about Tomas, but most of it was turned the other way.”

“Maybe we just don’t need to know, you know, like the spy movies?” I ventured.

“I don’t know, but putting two and two together just made three, and I’ve been shot twice in two weeks.”

The conversation hadn’t left me as we prepared to start our latest mission.

In the evening shade the Senator’s house stood imposing before us, three floors of opulence, lights on in every room, and a bucket load of security, all very modern technology, and the obligatory beefcake chunky men in dark suits. Barring the driveway stood black grilled double gates, obviously with some form of mechanized opening.

We waited outside for only fifteen minutes before a car pulled up, buzzed at the gate and got allowed inside. We jogged invisibly behind the car, hand in hand. I mean, we could have just jumped the fence, but we didn’t want to set off any perimeter alarms, so we kept it simple.

“We follow the passengers to the door,” Valérie said, her voice just heard above the vehicle’s exhaust.

The car pulled round to the side of the house where a door opened. A man stood in the doorway, his body lit from inside.

Two men got out of the car, and we followed them to the door, and yup, the guy said ‘come in’. I must admit, I did half expect the invisible “not invited inside” vampire barrier to hit me when I crossed the threshold, but as I scooted close behind the guys, nothing happened. The door closed behind us, and we waited for the men to trot off down the passageway.

“We’re in,” I said quietly.

“Yes we are.” Valérie shook my clammy hand.

“Basement?” I asked.

“Just like we planned,”

We methodically checked every floor, every room, and sniffed every closet in the house. No vampires, nothing.

We listened to phone conversations, we listened to actual conversations, heck I think I even imagined conversations.

Boring. No vampires and no mention of them. No bald guy, and no Amos.

But we settled in for a whole two days, shimmering visible for a lot of the time, hiding out in the basement, or in the guest rooms.

We ear-wigged telephone conversations, we rummaged through diaries until there was nothing new to read. On day three, we left the home of Chuck Eagerson and reported our findings to Georgie, who just shook his head, pacing the floor. “Okay, it’s time to up the ante a little bit.” He turned to us. “Do you remember the picture of Holloway Grant, the prospective Senator for New York?”

I nodded.

“Sure” Valérie said.

“Then take him out of the public eye for an hour. Keep it discrete. Use your feminine wiles on him. I want to know everything he does.”

“Sure thing,” I said, feeling a little excited at the prospect. I mean, we’d been invisible for most of the last three days, and I hadn’t fed for a while. The idea of sitting on top of a man, asking him questions actually appealed to me quite a bit.

“Where is he right now?” Valérie asked.

“I’m not sure.” Georgie seemed irritated. “Check the papers, his itinerary will be somewhere; you can’t run for Senator in secret.”

We caught a few of the local rags on the streets, and sure enough, Holloway Grant would be in Ithaca New York, in three days.

Ithaca.

“Where is Ithaca?” I asked, shaking my head.

Valérie laughed. “Obviously in the sticks somewhere.”

“So that means a road-trip.” I sighed. “I’m not sure I could last that long.” I gave her a mournful look. “You know, I’ve got an itch to scratch.”

“Yes, I know!” she laughed. “It’s been a few days for me too.”

“Yeah, far too long,” I grinned, looking up the entertainment section of the newspaper. “It would be unprofessional if we hit the prospective Senator hungry, right?”

That night, being a Friday, we hit a New York night spot: Flannigan’s.

I walked in with such a swagger of confidence, I got approached immediately. Well, it may have been the short hemline of the dress, or the stockings, or the low cut neckline.

Keeping to Ivan’s non-smoking regimen, I looked around the smoke filled room, feeling a little smug when suitor number one approached using the offer of a cigarette as his opening gambit. I rejected his offer, and relaxed at the table while the band played a few dance numbers. Valérie took a few men onto the floor, then latched on one. “Do you mind if I take this one somewhere quieter?” She asked.

I looked around the room, “Have fun,” I said, seeing nothing that would give me alarm being left here on my own. I felt confident that my own Prince Charming would arrive soon enough.

Slipping her arm into his, Valérie swayed out of the large room, giving me a finger wave and a cat-got-the-cheese grin.

I got caught up in the singer’s voice, doing some old dance numbers, but also some new stuff, more rocky, more foot-tapping. But of course, when drinking cocktails, even vampires have to pee and soon off I toddled off to the restroom, small clutch bag in hand.

On my return, I paused at the edge of the ballroom, and took in the whole ambience. I’m glad I did.

Near the cloakroom area, a group of men had gathered, and two in particular made me step back into the shadows.

They all wore double breasted suits, wide ties, and fedoras, but even the hat couldn’t hide the bald head of Tomas Lucescu. Amos stood at his side, preening himself.

“Damn,” I mouthed quietly. I dashed back inside the restroom, slipped my high heels off and shimmered myself invisible.

When I returned to the main ballroom, the men had already been seated at a table facing the dance floor, Tomas, Amos, and a goon on either side of them.

I decided to chance a walk past, and wove round the tables.

“… no chance yet, he’s still stinging from his last slap…” I caught from Amos, his voice raised over the noise of the band. Ready to eavesdrop some more, I turned to repeat my move, when Tomas’s head turned towards me, a curious, searching look on his face. I froze. Now he wasn’t looking directly into my eyes, but his gaze was directed at my precise area.

I raced across the room lightning fast, skirting round tables and waiters, and planted my back flat against the wall, breathing heavy. I hoped that the whole thing had been a coincidence. The men looked to be in conversation, then slowly, Tomas scanned the room. I readied myself for flight, and I swear his gaze lingered on my position. Then he turned back to the company.

I took to the streets immediately. I ran a few blocks before considering it safe to get inside a taxi and got out a block from our hotel, racing the last bit. Only when I’d gotten inside, locked the door, and located my Bãtrane did I feel safe.

The bald man’s eyes still burned into the backs of mine.

 

 

Valérie Lidowitz, March 1959, New York

 

“Do you really think he could see you?” I asked, Finch sat back on the bed, her back hard against the headboard.

“I don’t know,” she shook her head. “He looked in my direction but never seemed to lock eyes. He seemed to sense me, rather than see me.” She’d been spooked alright, and all the time I’d been getting my rocks off in a nice apartment on the east side.

“We have to get this information to Georgie and fast.”

“There’s a phone at reception,” She said, flicking her Bãtrane at the door. “I’ll come with you.” She looked me right in the eye. “I’d like to propose a new law until we get through this.”

“Okay,” I said.

“We stick together, whatever we do, for the next few weeks.”

I nodded, seeing the logic in her caution. “I can do that. But I’ve fed, you’ve not. What do you intend to do about that?”

“Oh, I’ve given it some thought while you were gone. I’m going to pay a visit to an old friend on the way to Ithaca, that old teacher of mine. He’ll set me in the right mood to work on this new politician.”

“That sounds good.” I would have agreed with anything right then; Finch looked as scared as I’ve ever seen her. The two times I’d seen Tomas, he’d creeped me out too, so I wasn’t passing judgment. “You’ve had a bad experience; you just need time to calm down.”

I saw her shiver. “I need a shower.” She said. “I was waiting until you got back.”

“I’ve got the door.”

She sighed deeply. “Thanks.”

I listened to the noise of the shower for a while, then she walked back into the room, a towel wrapped round her chest. “Can I sleep with you tonight?” I nodded immediately. “I don’t mean…” she looked flustered. “I wasn’t suggesting anything like that.”

“It’s okay, dearie,” I stepped forward and held her for a moment. Her slim body felt warm from the shower, but the poor girl still shook from her ordeal. “Let’s just get through the night, huh?”

We both fell asleep facing the motel room door, me spooned into Finch’s back. Slowly I felt her pulse rate drop, and by the time an hour had gone by, she snored lightly.

We decided not to use the phone, and reported in person to Georgie the next day. His expression remained dark and broody for the whole of our visit. Then he sent us on to Ithaca; despite the sighting of Tomas and Amos in New York, the mission was still on.

“So we tell Georgie that we’ve seen Tomas in New York, and he just sends us off to Ithaca anyway?” Finch sat in the passenger seat, her legs pulled up under her.

“You still think we’re being side-lined?” I asked.

“Oh, maybe. I just think he could use us better.” she said. “What’s the point in putting us through that training if he’s not going to use us?” We passed fifty miles or so in silence. “I think I’m going to cancel my trip to see Raymond.”

“Who?”

“My college teacher,” she said, “maybe it’s a bad plan to go so deep into Amos’s territory, you know, just for a quickie.”

I patted her knee. “In the cold light of day, it’s probably a good idea. Let me arrange a picnic.” I grinned wide. I took a detour into the next town, and parked downtown. Twenty minutes later a far brighter Theresa sat in the front seat again. I sniffed the air. “You didn’t drink deep, good girl.” I waited for a moment. “Well! Tell me about it!”

“Oh,” she almost blushed, “a quiet book store owner. I just pulled him into the back of the store and sat on him for ten minutes.” She laughed. It felt good to get my old partner back.

Ithaca proved as much of a waste of time as the Senator’s mansion. We whisked in and out of the people gathered to hear his speech, but couldn’t detect any vampires in the crowd, and there certainly weren’t any in his immediate retinue.

So we’d checked both candidates, and came up short.

We stood a hundred yards away, a fair bit behind the crowd, visible again, just two girls listening to Holloway Grant’s speech. He moaned platitudes, promised things would be different. I was already bored out of my mind when Finch put her hand on my sleeve, giving it a tug.

“The guy who’s just walked onto the stage,” she said. “The man in the long black coat,” His eyes skimmed across the crowd, then he whispered into Holloway Grant’s ear and the prospective Senator paused in his speech for a small cheer, then gave the man a curt nod. “Do you recognize him?”

“He does look familiar.” I said.

“That’s the guy who attacked the spa; Roy Immitras.”

I looked again, but could not be certain. “Are you sure?”

Holloway Grant wound his speech up, and waved to the crowd from behind the thin steel lectern, allowing himself to be pulled away by this new addition.

“I humped him against a tree, I remember these things.”

I smiled. At last we’d met Amos’s vampires in the political campaign, and had something concrete to report. “Let’s follow.” We trotted off to one side, until partially hidden by trees, and shimmered invisible.

Behind the stage a large charter bus was parked. Holloway Grant walked briskly to the open door, but we sped much faster, holding hands as we did so.

Then, we both stopped in our tracks.

Tomas Lucescu stood inside the doorway of the bus. As Grant approached, Tomas shifted position slightly, but Grant had to really push hard against the old vampire aside to get inside.

“Tomas knows we’re here.” I said quietly.

“How?”

I watched as Roy approached, and Tomas also made him squeeze past. “He’s taking no chances of anyone invisible getting on the bus.”

To make it even more disconcerting, as the bus slowly moved away, Tomas looked directly at me.

Beware of the bald man. His thirst for vengeance endangers us all.