“Come again?” said Turner.
“My dad, sir. Julian Carpenter.”
“What on earth would make you think that?”
“They were carrying MP5s, just like we used to. And the man I saw had military training, I’d bet my life on it. The way he moved, the way he didn’t panic, even when I went for him. He wasn’t remotely scared of vampires, sir.”
“And you think your father is the only person in the country who fits that description?” asked Turner.
Jamie frowned. “Of course not, sir. But it makes sense. Cal wouldn’t let my dad back into the Department, but even he knew that it was a waste of time telling him to behave himself. There’s no way he would just sit quietly and wait, on the off chance that you decided to reverse Cal’s decision. The Night Stalkers are exactly the sort of thing he’d do.”
“How would you know that, Jamie?” said Turner. “You never knew the Operator side of him.”
“I understand that, sir,” said Jamie, aware that his voice was beginning to rise. “But I do know how stubborn he was, right up to the point where it cost him everything he cared about. I don’t believe he’ll just sit on the sidelines, sir. It’s not in his nature.”
“On that point, you and I are in complete agreement,” said Turner. “And I do see why you reached this conclusion. But the man you saw last night wasn’t your father.”
Jamie frowned. “How can you say that, sir?” he asked. “I was there, and you were behind that desk.”
Turner narrowed his eyes. “Be careful, Lieutenant.”
Heat rose into Jamie’s cheeks, a potent mixture of anger and embarrassment. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “I just don’t get how you can be so sure.”
“And I can’t believe that you would be arrogant enough to assume that nobody else has considered this,” said Turner. “It was my first thought too, as soon as the Night Stalker attacks began. Three months ago.”
Jamie stared. “You thought it was him too?”
“Of course I did,” said Turner. “As you said, it would be just like him to find a new and different way to cause trouble.”
“But now you’re sure it’s not him?”
Turner nodded. “Face the screen, Jamie.”
He stared at the Director for a long moment, then did as he was told. He heard fingers tap a keyboard, and a moment later, the Department’s network access prompt appeared. Turner logged in, then navigated to an area that Jamie had never seen. A series of menus opened and closed, until a short list of coded entries appeared; Turner clicked on the link beside HTXB/4532MK0, and brought up a grid of video windows. For several long seconds, Jamie didn’t realise what he was looking at; then he recognised the front door he had knocked on six months earlier, and understood.
“That’s my grandmother’s cottage,” he said.
“Correct,” said Turner. “This is the surveillance web that Julian agreed to as a condition of his release. This is how I know.”
Jamie examined the wide screen. The windows showed the front of the cottage, high angles of seemingly every room, the driveway at the front, and the garden at the rear. As he watched, the door of the shed opened and his father emerged, brushed off his hands, and walked down the garden towards the cottage. Jamie felt his chest constrict momentarily with a sharp jab of grief, before it was burned away by the anger that flooded him whenever he even thought about his father; seeing him live on camera only intensified the emotion.
“We chipped him again before he was released,” said Turner. “It’s moving now, while we’re watching him, and it didn’t move last night, not once in seven hours. After he turned out the lights, the audio sensors picked up the sound of his breathing, and thermal showed a constant heat source in his bed. Surveillance checked on him at 3.12am and saw nothing unusual. He was there all night, Jamie.”
“Do you record this footage?” he asked, his eyes still locked on the screen. “Can you show me last night?”
“No,” said Turner. “We don’t record everything. We do live checks at least four times a day.”
Jamie turned back to face his Director. “This doesn’t prove anything, sir,” he said. “My dad’s an expert at faking things.”
Turner frowned. “If you don’t want to listen to me, Jamie, then there’s very little point in us continuing this conversation. I’m sorry about what you found out, what Cal and Colonel Frankenstein kept from you, but I’m afraid—”
“I’m not talking about that, sir,” interrupted Jamie. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m talking about what I saw last night.”
“And I’m telling you you’re wrong,” said Turner. “Your father has been in your grandmother’s cottage in Norfolk, exactly where he’s supposed to be, every time there’s been a Night Stalker attack. But you’re right about one thing. There’s a lot more to them than meets the eye. You saw two men, and on the twelfth of last month there were two attacks on the same night, sixty miles apart. Which means there are four of them, at least. Intelligence believes there may be as many as eight or even ten. But your father isn’t one of them.”
Jamie stared, his mind racing.
Four Night Stalkers? Maybe eight, or ten? What the hell?
“Why hasn’t any of this come up in the Zero Hour briefings, sir?” he asked.
“Because the Night Stalkers aren’t Blacklight business, Jamie,” said Turner. “We’re sharing any relevant information with the police, but this is for them to deal with. If you cross paths with them again, by all means bring them into custody if you can. God knows, it might help our standing with the local forces. But unless that eventuality arises, I want you to focus on your own job.”
Jamie tried one last time. “How are they finding the vampires they kill, sir? Haven’t you wondered about that?”
“Of course I have,” said Turner. “What’s your point?”
“The Surveillance Division keeps a vampire watch list,” said Jamie. “What if my dad has a copy of it, an old one from when he was still an Operator? What if that’s what the Night Stalkers are using to pick their targets?”
“Impossible,” said Turner.
“Why?” asked Jamie. “Why is that impossible?”
“Because none of the Night Stalker victims so far have been known to this Department,” said Turner. “That was the second thing I checked, right after whether or not your father was involved.”
Of course he thought of it all before you did. You idiot.
“Right,” Jamie said, his voice low and crestfallen. “Would anybody else have a list of vampires?”
“No,” said Turner. “And that’s more than enough on this subject. Put the Night Stalkers out of your mind unless you’re looking at one of them down the sights of your weapon. Clear?”
Jamie nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Fine. Your squad is off rotation tonight, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good,” said Turner. “Go and get a drink in the mess.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re eighteen now, right?”
Jamie smiled. “Yes, sir,” he said. “It was my birthday two months ago.”
“All right,” said Turner, the corners of his mouth threatening to curl upwards into a small smile of his own. “Go and get a drink. Take Kate with you.”
Jamie frowned.