"Not even for the sake of an exclusive story?" Grayson said.
"Tom was much more than a colleague, Inspector," Larson said. "He was a close friend. I knew him. He wouldn't do anything like that."
"Well, I hope you're right," said Grayson. "I'd hate to think that a man died for something so foolhardy. I suppose the newspapers are truly going to scream about this. Losing one of their own and so forth. I don't wish to seem callous, Larson, but I do hope you will employ some discretion when you write your story. The manner of death is, after all, not quite like the others. There is no real evidence that the killer was the same."
"But you don't really believe that," Larson said.
Grayson looked down at the ground and pursed his lips thoughtfully. "No, I don't." he said after a moment. "Whoever killed poor Davis had to possess astonishing strength. Much like what happened in the courtyard, when those men were thrown about like so much chaff. Perhaps we'll be able to learn something from an examination of the body, but I'm almost beginning to believe that we may he faced with something beyond our ability to understand. There is some sort of horror loose in London, something that-" He caught himself and glanced up at Larson quickly. "I hope you will not quote me," he said.
Larson shook his head. "I have already forgotten what you said, Inspector."
Grayson looked relieved. "Thank you. My superiors are making things difficult enough for me as it is. For what it's worth, I promise you that I won't rest until I find this fiend and bring him to justice. And I shall find him. I swear it.''
Larson nodded and looked hack at the body. "I'll have to inform his… his family."
"Would you rather I do that?" said Grayson.
"No, I think it would be best if they were to hear it from me," said Larson. "I'd better go and see to it, before the news reaches them some other way."
"I understand," said Grayson. "Forgive me if I seemed a bit-"
“No need,” said Larson. "You have your job to do." "Yes, and I'd best be on about it," Grayson said. "Please pass on my condolences to the poor chap's family." "Thank you, Inspector. I'll do that."
Grayson looked at him strangely for a moment. ' Larson.. do be careful."
"God damn it, no!" Delaney said. "It's much too dangerous."
"We have no choice," said Steiger. "If we're blown, we've got to move the command post now and that means someone has to stay behind and get word to all our people."
"We know where most of our people are," Delaney said. "We could set up a rendezvous and clock out separately, pass the word on to everyone directly-"
"And what happens if some of them clock in while we're out looking for them?" Steiger said. "They'd have no idea that we're blown and they'd be sitting ducks if Drakov made a strike on the command post. Besides, I don't want to risk having everyone spread out all over the place. That makes us vulnerable. We have no idea where Davis and Larson are-"
"Davis is dead," said Larson, entering the room.
"What!" said Steiger. "How? What happened?"
"I've just left Grayson. They found Davis in an alley behind a pub in Whitechapel," Larson said. "His head was twisted around 360 degrees, practically torn right off his neck."
"Ransome must have talked," Delaney said.
"What about Ransome?" Larson said.
"He's missing," said Christine Bram. "He was late checking in and there's been no sign of him.”
"Drakov must have got a hold of him somehow," said Delaney. "We're blown. Ransome must have told him about the entire operation.'
"I don't believe it," Larson said. "Paul would never break." "The hell he wouldn't," Delaney said. "Be realistic. Anyone can be deprogrammed. How else could we have been blown?" "It might have been Rizzo," Andre said.
"Rizzo's missing, too?" said Larson.
Andre nodded. "I showed up to relieve him and there was no sign of him. I found his pushcart abandoned in the street. No one even had a chance to steal it yet."
"And Drakov made a try for Linda," Christine Brant said. "She got off a shot at him, but he was too quick."
"Jesus, — Larson said "tie's picking us off one at a time!"
"Which is exactly why I don't want everyone spread out now," Steiger said. "We've got to pull in and regroup. And the sooner we're out of here, the better."
The door opened and Paul Ransome walked in.
"What's going on?" he said.
"Ransome!" Steiger said. "Where the hell have you been?" "Checking out the estates on our list, as I was supposed to be doing," he said.
"You missed your check-in by four hours!" said Delaney.
"Yes, sir, I know," said Ransome. "I'm sorry, but I discovered something and I wanted to make sure before I pushed the button."
"What are you talking about?" said Steiger.
"I found Drakov's base of operations, — Ransome said. "He's at an estate in Richmond Hill."
The sprawling Victorian mansion stood atop the hill overlooking the Thames Valley in Richmond, Surrey. The furnishings were all still in place and the pantry was fully stocked, as was the wine cellar. Otherwise, the house was empty. If there had been any servants employed in the mansion, they were gone now. There was nothing to indicate that anyone from another time had been present in the house and. for that matter, the mansion didn't even look abandoned. It simply looked as if no one was home, but the clothes closets were all empty and toilet articles were missing from the bathrooms. On closer examination, they found where the security systems had been concealed and then hastily removed.
"That's it," said Steiger. He glanced at Ransome and nodded. "Drakov was here, all right, but he apparently cleared out in a hurry."
"Sir," said Larson, "take a look at this.- He showed Steiger a sheaf of newspaper clippings about the killings in Whitechapel. "They were lying on a table in the library. Along with this." He handed Steiger a handsome first edition of Dracula. by Bram Stoker. A book that Stoker hadn't even written yet.
"Cute," said Steiger. "Obviously left behind for us to find. He's awful goddamn sure of himself."
"It may not be safe for us to stay here," Andre said.
"You think Drakov would booby-trap this place?" Delaney said. "That's not his style. Much too impersonal."
"Maybe, but I wouldn't want to bet on that," said Steiger. "Be careful what you touch."
"So it was Rizzo, then." Andre said.
Steiger nodded. "It had to be. He's the only one left unaccounted for. We can probably assume he's dead by now. We'd better get someone down to the crime lab at Scotland Yard to warn Neilson. He'll be getting off duty there soon and I don't want him going back to the Metropole."
"What do we do about a new base-ops'?" Andre said. "If Rizzo's talked. we can't use any of our fallback safehouses." "I've been thinking about that," Steiger said, "and I have an idea. Probably the last place Drakov would expect us to use. And maybe it would let us kill two birds with one stone."
Ransome coughed and sagged against a doorframe.
"Ransome," said Delaney. "are you all right'!'
He nodded. "Yes. sir. I'm just tired, I guess. I'll be okay." "You look a little pale."
"Nothing to worry about, sir, I'm fine, really."
"We're all tired" Andre said. "And we're not getting anyplace. At this rate, we'll all be asleep on our feet soon. We need another safehouse. What did you have in mind, Creed?"
"Number 7 Mornington Place." said Steiger.
"But that's H. G. Wells' house!" said Christine Brant. Steiger nodded.
"Wells is the only really solid lead we've got. He's become the primary focus of temporal interference in this scenario. Forrester was right. We're going right back to square one. Moreau must have had a reason for abducting Wells. He's got to be in this with Drakov and they must have a plan for using Wells somehow,"