"That's not too bad, then."
Next, I had him install a heavy-duty deadbolt on the basement door. I told him that I wanted the kind that could be opened by a key, from either side.
"Why would somebody wanna lock themselves inside the basement?" Hank asked me. Guess he didn't have any vampires in the family.
"Sometimes I throw an orgy down there," I said, my voice as matter-of-fact as my expression. "My guests like their privacy – you know how it is."
He looked at me for a couple of seconds, as if unsure whether he was being kidded. Then he snorted and set to work.
After Hank left, I was finally able to stagger off to bed. As my head hit the pillow, I prayed that I wouldn't dream. But, like most of my prayers, that one went unanswered, too.
It was full dark when Christine and I shared breakfast – well, we shared the table, but our menus were different – and I told her about my eventful night. I left out the part about the end of my visit with Rachel, since I wasn't sure yet what exactly she had done, or how I felt about it. But Christine heard everything else.
"Just listening to it makes me feel like my head's going to explode," she said. "I can only imagine what it must have been like to go through it. Pretty tough dude, my old man. Takes a real lickin' and keeps on tickin'." I knew she was referencing an old Timex commercial.
"We'll see how well I keep time tonight," I said. "I feel like the crystal's cracked and the mainspring is about to break from being wound too tight."
"You'll be fine," she said. "But poor Lacey – what an absolutely horrid thing to listen to."
"I only told her because–"
She held up a pacifying hand. "I know, I know. I'd have done the same thing in your place – and in her place too, for that matter. Sometimes there's no easy way out."
"Yeah, I think I heard that somewhere," I said.
"And speaking of easy ways out," she said, "who the fuck is sending goblins after you?"
"Oh, that would be Mister X," I said.
She cocked an eyebrow at me. "Really? Is that his first or last name?"
"For now, it stands for both."
"OK. So who is Mister X, and why does he have it in for my daddy?"
"He's probably the guy – or the gang – behind the snuff films. Karl's theory is that he's like the Columbians. Apparently down there, if somebody so much as whispers something about going after those guys, they take him out. Don't even wait for him to become a nuisance. Just bang-bang."
"And Karl feels Mister X has the same bloody mindset?"
"It explains why somebody took out Milo – who, as far as I know, hadn't turned up anything new about the snuff film operation," I said. "Although he did have Sharkey waiting in the wings, just in case."
"And now Sharkey's your guardian angel."
"I figure Milo paid him to follow me – well, Karl and me – around until we found Mister X. Then Sharkey would step out of the shadows and hit him. And since I can't lead him to Mister X if some goblin sticks a knife in my gizzard, he's keeping me alive until then. And the way this case is going, Sharkey's gonna have to watch my back for a long time to come."
"Even though Milo's dead," she said.
"Sharkey's the most ethical man in the business, they say. As well as the deadliest."
"Well, it would seem better to have him on your side, rather than on your case."
"Amen to that," I said.
"I don't know who Mister X is, obviously," she said. From deep in her eyes, I saw a glint of red. "But if I ever meet him, he'd better guard his throat."
"That's my girl."
"And in the meantime, somebody's killing supernaturals, in the hope of starting this Helter Skelter race war?"
"They're killing humans, too, and framing supernaturals for it."
"This Howard guy you were telling me about," she said.
"Lester Howard, yeah. If he was really the victim of a vampire, then I'm Mary, Queen of Scots."
"Let's hope you're not," Christine said with a grin. "You wouldn't like the wardrobe, and she came to a bad end, as I recall."
"I'm probably safe," I said.
She took a sip from her cup of heated plasma. "And who's behind this Helter Skelter bullshit?"
"I'm still working on that. For now, let's call him Mister Y, although 'he' is probably a 'they'."
"Except you think X and Y are one and the same."
"I think they might be," I said. "At first, we all figured that the motive behind the snuff films was purely financial – same as the pervs who make kiddie porn."
"Let's not talk about kiddie porn – please. I may be a vampire, but those fuckers are the real monsters."
"No argument from me. But their motive is to make money, and we figured the same was true of the guys behind the snuff films. But now…"
"The press has got hold of the story."
"Looks that way," I said. "Maybe some nosy reporter just stumbled over it. But if info about these videos was deliberately leaked – well, a lot of people are gonna get real upset when they hear about these supernatural torture sessions." "More ammunition for Helter Skelter." "Could be, honey. Could just be."
I could see that McGuire had visitors. Thorwald and Greer were in the office with him, looking serious. I think there's a course they offer down there at Quantico called "Federal Gravitas 101." Or maybe it's just that their job doesn't present too many occasions for giggles. Come to think of it, neither does mine.
I looked at Karl, who was sitting at his desk. "How long have J. Edgar's finest been in there with the boss?"
"Beats me," he said. "I just rolled in a couple of minutes ago myself, and they were already here."
"I want to talk to the Feebies, but I don't think we oughta just sit here with our thumbs up our asses waiting for the privilege."