Simon Hawke - The Dracula Caper

They ran through the narrow subterranean corridor, stumbling in the dark over soft, furry shapes that squealed in protest and snapped at their shoes, but neither man gave any thought to the rats as they fled. They ran blindly in the dark, their hands held out before them, hearing behind them the howling of the creatures released from their dungeon cells and the crashing of glass and equipment as they destroyed the underground laboratory.

Stoker grunted with pain as he fell forward onto the stairs leading up to the great hall of the castle and Conan Doyle dragged him to his feet, hooking his arm around him.

Hurry, man! We must flee for our very lives!"

They half ran, half stumbled up the damp stone steps, feeling their way along the slimy wall in the darkness. Behind them, the inhuman screaming sounded terrifyingly closer. At last, they reached the door at the top of the steps and threw it open. Gasping for breath, they lunged through it and then slammed it shut, throwing their weight against it.

"The bolt!" said Doyle. "Quickly, throw the bolt!" "It's stuck!" said Stoker.

Doyle added his strength to that of Stoker's and the iron bolt shot home.

"That should hold them!" Stoker said.

"I would not wish to stake my life on it." said Doyle. breathing hard. "I shall not feel safe until we're gone from this accursed place!"

"But how?" said Stoker. "How do we get hack home?"

"Steady, old friend,” said Doyle. "One problem at a time. We are not safe yet. Quickly, we must find our way out of this place."

They started to run across the great hall when a deep, reverberant voice cried out. ''Stand where vou are!"

Startled, both men stopped in the center of the great hall. Drakov stood above them on the curved stairway, with Jasmine and Moreau.

"Who are you?" said Conan Doyle.

"The question, sir, is who are you." said Drakov, "and how did you get here?"

Before they could reply, the door to the stairway leading down to the dungeon splintered and broke and the hall became filled with the howling screams of the creatures from the dungeons. Drakov's head jerked towards them as they streamed out into the great hall and in that moment. Jasmine's foot whipped out and kicked the laser from his hand. They grappled for a moment and then Drakov shoved her away from him. She fell into Moreau and they both tumbled down the stairs.

“ STOP!” S houted Drakov.

The creatures all fell silent instantly and stopped where they were, staring up at him fearfully.

"My God. Arthur," Stoker said, as they backed slowly away from the suddenly immobile creatures. "Look how they watch him!"

"With the manner of whipped dogs," said Doyle. "Whoever this man is, he is obviously their master. And our fate is entirely in his hands.”

"Dear God, Nikolai," Moreau said, staring at the creatures who cowered before Drakov. "What have you done'?"

"I would not advise anyone to move," said Drakov. "Moreau, I will thank you to retrieve my laser and return it to me, otherwise I will have them tear those men to pieces right before your eyes. Remember. I am all that protects you from them now. One word from me and they will attack without mercy."

"Arthur, what do we do?" said Stoker.

"For the moment, it appears that we must stand very still and do whatever that man tells us." Conan Doyle said. "If we triedto run now, they would bring us down before we had run twenty feet.”

"The laser, Moreau," said Drakov. "Now!"

Moreau felt Jasmine tense and he took hold of her firmly. "We must do as he says. he told her.

Together, they went over to where the laser pistol had fallen and Moreau bent down to pick it up. Drakov remained where he was, on the long stairway leading down from the upper floor. Doyle and Stoker stood closeto one another in the center of the great hall, between Drakov and his creatures.

"Look at them!" said Stoker, his voice scarcely above a whisper. "They cannot possibly be human!"

"No. Stoker, Doyle said, staring at the creatures, "I am afraid they are. Only something terrible has been done to them, something beyond all reason. Their minds have snapped, poor devils, and vet this man controls them with a word. He has them mesmerized. It appears that we have found the guiding intelligence behind these awful crimes and he is without a doubt a madman."

"And who are you, sir, to call me mad?" said Drakov. "I repeat my question. What are you doing here and how did you get here?"

"My name is Arthur Conan Doyle and this is Mr. Bram Stoker. As to how we came here, we were rendered unconscious and abducted, brought here against our will by Count Dracula. And now you have the advantage of me, sir. "Indeed I do," said Drakov with a smile. "I admire your composure, Dr. Doyle, but then I would expect no less from the distinguished creator of Sherlock Holmes. My name is Nikolai Drakov. Forgive nit for not having recognized you, but I hardly expected to find you here, of all places. I had heard that you were working with Scotland Yard. Allow me to congratulate you for having come so far. And as for you, Mr. Stoker, your presence here is an exquisite irony. Where is Dracula?"

"It was he who released those wretches from their dungeon cells." said Stoker.

"And has doubtless been torn to pieces for his trouble, the sentimental fool," said Drakov. "What a pity. What a criminal waste. He was my prize, my greatest achievement! You should have seen him, Moreau!”

Moreau raised the laser pistol, but Conan Doyle shouted, — Don't do it, man! Don't be a fool! He is all that holds these murderous creatures in check!"

Moreau hesitated.

"Well, Moreau," said Drakov, smiling down at him, "go on, shoot. You wanted to kill me. You will never get another chance. But kill me and you condemn yourself and the others to a decidedly unpleasant death."

With an air of helpless resignation, Moreau started to lower the weapon.

"Wait, Mr. Moreau!" said Doyle, his voice ringing out in the great hall, echoing off the ancient walls. "So long as you possess that weapon, we still have a chance. Kill him, and the creatures will be freed from his will, released to butcher every one of us. But so long as you possess that weapon, you still have the threat of death over him. And that, I assure you, is undoubtedly all that is keeping us alive! We are at a stalemate."

Jasmine ran to Moreau's side and clutched his arm. Moreau raised the laser once again and pointed it at Drakov.

"Very good, Dr. Doyle," said Drakov. "Moreau was always spineless, but I had not counted on you to bolster him up. Between you, the girl, and his newly awakened sense of morality, he is becoming a veritable pillar of masculine vigor.”

"Don't let him rattle you. Moreau," said Doyle. "He wants to make you angry. Anger makes people's hands shake, their aim becomes unsteady."

"Time does much the same thing. Dr. Doyle," said Drakov. "How long do you think we can all stand here before his arm starts to become tired?"

"However long it takes for us to resolve this stalemate and leave here safely," Doyle said. "If his arm should become tired, he can pass the pistol to the girl. She seems capable enough."

"As are you, apparently,” said Drakov. "What happens now? Even if I were to let you leave, under the threat of being shot, how far do you think you would get before they ran you down? Look at them. They need but one word from me and they will tear you apart. They have been down in the dungeons for a long time. And they are hungry.”

"We could take you with us as our hostage," Stoker said. "I do not think so, Mr. Stoker. I have no intention of moving from this spot. Perhaps you would try taking me by force?" "Stay away from him!" Moreau said. "He has at least three times your strength and he is an expert in the art of unarmed combat. You would have no chance against him."