Chapter 27
We hurried across the village green to the little hotel. The desk clerk had gone home for the night, allowing us the opportunity to dispose of the bodies.
We retrieved our weapons and stuffed the three rucksacks with our dwindling supplies of cash and blood bags and stashed them behind the abandoned front desk.
Shuffling awkwardly and constantly checking over our shoulders for witnesses, Andre and I carried one end each of the bodies, while Killer-Bee scouted ahead to make sure the coast was clear to rush through with our obvious cargo wrapped in blood-soaked bedsheets. Fortunately the village green and the little country road were both deserted. We hurried to the golf course that Andre and Killer-Bee had discovered. It was not the ideal place to bury bodies but it was our best available option.
Andre stole a shovel from a row of gardening allotments on the edge of the village. The three of us took turns to dig a deep grave, swapping over and passing the shovel between us to maintain a rapid momentum. The dark clouds overhead broke and rain fell heavily which made grave digging easier but messier. In less than quarter of an hour, the corpses of the young couple shrouded in the bedsheet, were buried amongst the thick tangle of trees between the seventh and eighth hole of the Milbrook golf course.
We had to rush to retrieve our luggage and catch the last overground train into London. High on the adrenaline of getting away with murder and charging into uncertainty we vibrated with nervous energy throughout the train journey. At Finsbury Park we changed to the underground train. As soon as our rickety old train pulled into the station we burst from the doors and sprinted with an inhuman speed we made no effort to conceal, to leap aboard the very last Victoria line train just as the doors closed. We alighted at Oxford Circus with a tide of tourists and emerged onto a packed Oxford Street. The famous shopping district was so busy that we were queuing rather than walking as we made our slow march until the turn off towards Mayfair.
The three of us stood opposite the Dorchester Hotel, where Vincent was staying and where both George and my Lieutenants had spotted Cleaners casing the area.
The heavy rain had dwindled into drizzle which stung our faces but did nothing to clean off the mud which drenched us.
Parked in a neat line amongst the Bentleys and Jaguars near the front of the building were three unmarked black vans.
"Wait here", I ordered Andre and Killer-Bee and handed them my backpack.
I stepped into the beautiful lobby and ran my fingers through my hair to shake off the droplets of rain. I had only ever once previously been to this hotel, but the Elder who had requested our services had been considerate enough to dump the exsanguinated corpses in the bins at the back of the building. The hotel was grand to the point of over the top decadence. The lobby split into multiple richly carpeted corridors leading to exclusive restaurants and a row of mahogany panelled elevators. I was pondering which direction to take to search for Vincent, when his voice echoed around the large antechamber of the entrance lobby. I looked up and saw the fool to be sitting at a fully laid table in the centre of the main restaurant.
"Fleming! Over here!" he called.
I stormed towards him. He held up three fingers when he saw my expression and counted down by dropping them one at a time. By the time I had reached him all his fingers had been balled into the fist he held proudly aloft.
"Boom", he whispered and cackled his madman laugh.
A bone-trembling force shook the whole building. Plates, silver cutlery, and tea cups fell to the ground. Glass flew around the room from all directions and a thick cloud of grey dust filled the air. Through the debris I saw Vincent calmly sipping his neat whiskey from a crystal tumbler with a satisfied smile on his face.
"That's at least two down", he announced loudly so I could hear over the ringing in my ears.
"What have you done?" I demanded.
"Drawn first blood against the Elders is what. They may be a thousand years old but that doesn't bother a suitcase of plastic explosive", he beamed with pride.
"You could not possibly have drawn more attention you blithering idiot! The anti-terrorist police will find the corpses" I screamed.
"You still think like one of them", Vincent said with a dismissive wave. "They have any army of experienced Cleaners from all over Europe; this stuff is their bread and butter".
"I think blowing up a hotel is beyond anyone's means to cover up", I yelled exasperated.
"Good!" Vincent said. "If they are stretched beyond their limit to maintain The Secret, then we have a chance of victory", he said.
A screaming torrent of terrified hotel guests, their faces and clothes grey with dust, rushed down the stairs pushing and tumbling over each other in panicked attempts to flee the building.
Andre and Killer-Bee had to wade through the terrified tide that swamped the entrance, as they followed me inside to investigate the explosion.
"What the fuck?" asked Andre, seeing Vincent and me in the centre of the destroyed restaurant.
He chuckled with amusement at the chaos.
"Vincent has just killed two Elders and a few Cleaners and he has a plan for how to bring the fight to the rest of them", I answered flatly, still dazed with shock.
"I knew you would get it", Vincent roared with joy and put his dusty arm affectionately around my shoulders.
The screech of approaching sirens emerged over the din of shouting and sobbing of the fleeing hotel guests. The four of us merged into the crowd and pushed our way outside. The police cars had yet to arrive but two unmarked but very familiar black vans skidded to a halt outside the front courtyard. We stayed hidden amongst the Humans and rushed past before the back doors opened.
One of the commandeered black cabs used by the Rogues weaved in and out of the first response emergency vehicles that were surrounding the large hotel, answering the call for aid signalled by the plume of black smoke. The black cab pulled up on the pavement opposite. The driver was squinting into the crowd, scanning for familiar faces. I recognised her bright red hair. The others must have seen Josephine too as they pushed a path through the dusty grey ocean of hotel guests. Killer-Bee reached the cab first. She drummed on the window and was met by the barrel of George's gun. He recognised her, lowered the pistol and opened the backwards swinging doors. As soon as all four of us were in Josephine sped off, anxious to escape before the road became blocked by the wave of rapidly approaching emergency vehicles.
"What happened in there?" George asked, staring in shock at the crowds of panicked humans, glass strewn pavement and black smoke spilling out through shattered windows.
"No time to explain", Vincent responded excitedly. "My Lieutenants are already preparing the next hit".
We all stared at him in amazement. I felt a pang of shame at how useless I had been by comparison whilst laying low.
"Turn right here!" Vincent instructed from the back of the taxi. He proceeded to back-seat-drive all the way to Notting Hill.
Josephine parked the taxi where instructed and we all got out. Vincent pressed a buzzer on a metal door almost invisible between two garish tourist souvenir shops. An intercom crackled and the door creaked open. We climbed a flight of narrow and steep steps to emerge in a small dimly lit and deserted speak-easy.
"I have rented the two flats upstairs. This place is only open at weekends so we have the run of it until then", Vincent informed us whilst helping himself to the spirits behind the closed bar. He retrieved a large rolled up map of the city and unravelled it along the wooden surface. He stood facing us and briefed us on his plan of action.
"My sources have confirmed that the Elders are staying here, here and here", he said, jabbing with his stubby ring covered fingers at the paper map.
"We cannot attack all of z'em", Josephine interrupted. "You a've never seen z'em in action".
"Don't worry honey. The Elders are not the intended target, at least not yet", Vincent replied with a warm smile.
Josephine frowned with her one mobile eyebrow at his condescension. Vincent continued.
"Several officers of European Cleaners have been sent here to exterminate us. They are camped near to the groups of Elders to best serve their wants and whim".
"That makes things worse", said an apprehensive George. "The enemy is gathering together in a tactically sound position", he said as he examined the map.
"Indeed..." Vincent answered, pausing for dramatic affect and scanning the reactions of his audience. "We are going to cause chaos all around the city. The Cleaners primary purpose is to maintain The Secret so they will have to scatter like obedient ants to put out all the fires... both metaphorical and literal".
I was already convinced of his plan and nodded enthusiastically. I looked around at my comrades.
"Fuck it, it's not like we've got any u'va ideas", said Andre.
"Fuck it indeed", Vincent beamed. "Divide and conquer!" he yelled gleefully, evidently very pleased with himself.
We converted the first of the upstairs flats into a war room. The walls were papered with maps of the city, upon which yellow post-it-notes marked the positions of all the Lieutenants and the troops under their command. Discounting Andre, whose newly-turned I had donated to his peers, there was still twenty Lieutenants awaiting my orders. Most still had a force of five but several had been lost in the battle in the Rogues club, and one Lieutenant had informed me through a text message that he had been forced to kill all his newly-turned after they had tried to desert the cause.
I filled wine glasses with a morgue blood bag from my rucksack while we settled in to co-ordinate our first offensive campaign of the new war.