Brian Lumley - Necroscope - Invaders

'Oh yes, and one other thing. When the Wamphyri came into our world, they brought thralls or "lieutenants" with them. Now, an original lieutenant out of Starside is a very dangerous creature, much more so than our old friend Bruce Trennier, and you know what he was like. So I'm just reminding you, it's possible that one of these things is up there, too.'

The map on the big wall screen had changed. Trask pointed to it again, said, 'Here's Xanadu; you know where it is, for of course you've all flown over it and seen it for yourselves. And anyway the bloody place is signposted! A resort, as we've seen. The perfect cover, yes. Which also makes it difficult for us to deal with the creature or creatures that we'll find there. Why? Because this time the master vampire is hiding in a crowd!

'That's my next job: finding a way to get the people — I mean the ordinary people — out of there before Monday night.

'And so, gentlemen, that's it for now. Now you can go work out your harbour areas, decide where you'll locate your men and vehicles as they start to come in. The one good thing about it: they won't have much spare time on their hands, won't lose their edge or get bored. They'll no sooner be in situ than they'll be in a firefight. And I think I can promise you that where Xanadu is concerned, that last is guaranteed. Take it as a foregone — or at least a foreseen — conclusion.'

The SAS Commanders left the ops room, and Trask was alone with his own people.

'So, as you can see,' he said, 'the techs and I have had a busy day. But fruitful? Judge for yourselves.'

He gave Jimmy Harvey the nod, and the big wall screen displayed the group of islets again. And Trask continued:

'This island in the Capricorn Group — it's such a rock it doesn't even have a name — is the home of wealthy philanthropist Jethro Manchester. Like many another rich do-gooder before him, he's something of a recluse. Five years ago, in return for his patronage and a whole lot of money, the Barrier Reefs Marine Park Commission gave him the island to live on. He owns it, or as good as. But that's not all he owns.. '

Trask paused and glanced at Harvey, whose fingers tapped at his keyboard. And now the big wall screen was divided centrally between the islands and a map of the dog-leg fold in the Macpherson Range. Trask glanced at the screen, and nodded his curt nod. 'Hands up who knows what I'm talking about.'

And Liz said, 'He owns Xanadu, too?'

Trask looked at her. 'Used to,' he said. 'But now he has a partner. Nine months ago Manchester signed documents that transferred fifty per cent of Xanadu to one Aristotle Milan, an alleged "shipping magnate" of mixed Greek and Italian descent. We might perhaps assume — or rather, I believe we're supposed to assume — that his surname derives from the city of his origins in the old Italian fashion. But I don't think so. The coincidence is just too great, not to mention the rest of the story.

'First: there is no record of any Aristotle Milan as being the owner of any ships! Ergo: the man isn't a tycoon — though I can easily understand how the idea of being one would appeal to such as him — and as for his name…'

'… Not Milan but Malin,' Jake came in. 'Instead of using "ari" as a suffix, to denote "son of," he's using it as a prefix, denoting "first of. Meaning that on this world, he's the first or highest of his kind. And so for Aristotle Milan, read Malinari. Malinari the Mind!'

'Exactly,' said Trask. 'What's in a name, eh? So, how did Malinari make his connection with Jethro Manchester? Ah, well, here's another name for you: Martin Trennier. Bruce Trennier's brother, a marine biologist employed by the Marine Park Commission until Manchester — our philanthropist, conservationist, recluse, and latter-day Jacques Cousteau — stole him away from them to be his very well-paid odd-jobs man, skin-diving companion, and general dogsbody. This happened about the same time that Manchester and his family got away from it all and retired to the island. Bruce Trennier would have known all of

this when Malinari vampirized him at the Romanian Refuge, the said knowledge going second-hand to The Mind himself. Which begs the same question we've all worried about before: what else did Malinari learn on that… on that terrible night?'

Trask's face was grey now, and all of his people knew why: that his concern wasn't just for Zek — who was gone now — but also for them. For Zek Foener had known as much as anyone about E-Branch and its workings.

And Malinari?

lan Goodly determined to change the subject, take Trask's mind away from it. 'What if we're wrong and it's all coincidental, circumstantial? This pseudonymous-names business, our various hunches and observations, and everything else we've come up with?'

'A hell of a lot of coincidences, I'd say!' Trask frowned at him.

'But what if)'

Trask shuffled notes he'd made earlier, and said, 'Well, there is one more thing. In Xanadu, the pleasure dome or casino has a smaller, uppermost dome like a blister on top of the main structure. It sits on a spindle and revolves like certain fancy restaurants on their high towers. But in the nine months since Mr Milan moved in half of its windows have been painted black, both inside and out. Oh, and incidentally, the dome's rotation was originally designed to track the sun, letting in the light that the higher solar-panelled surfaces necessarily exclude. So it would appear that our Mr Milan has an aversion to strong sunlight…' Pausing, Trask looked at Goodly.

The precog was quiet now, saying nothing, but his alleged 'concerns' hadn't fooled Trask one bit. For in its way Goodly's subterfuge had been a lie, a diversion to take Trask's mind off his lost Zek and get it back on track, and of course Trask knew it. A lie, yes, but a white one. And:

'So thanks, anyway,' he finally continued, looking directly into the precog's eyes, 'but I think we can safely conclude that here…' he pointed a steady, resolute finger at the locations displayed on the wall screen, '… that here be vampires!'

When no one had anything further to say, Trask finished up with: 'Very well, and now we have plans to make…'

Later that evening, Jake was sitting on a bench in the cool of the garden, lost in his own strange, meditative thoughts, when Lardis found him and sat down beside him. After he had sniffed at the air for a while, the old man said, 'Carypsu?'

Oddly enough, Jake understood. 'Eucalyptus?' he answered. 'It's a tree, growing outside the wall.'

'Yes,' Lardis nodded. 'Carypsu. We have them on Sunside.' And, after a moment or two's thought: 'May I ask a question?'

'What's on your mind?' said Jake.

At which Lardis smiled. 'But I might ask you the selfsame thing! What's on, or what's in, your mind?'

Jake frowned. 'Some kind of word game?'

'No,' Lardis shook his head. 'No word game. But I have to admit, I'm curious.'

'About what?'

'About you. About how you knew that in Starside in the old days a Lord of the Wamphyri might occasionally add "ari" to his father's name, denoting that he was his father's son.'

'You mean like Lord Malin was Malinari's father?'

'Indeed. And now that you mention it… how you knew that, too?'

Jake frowned again, deeper this time. But then he relaxed, and shrugged. 'You must have told me,' he said. 'Or maybe I've read of it somewhere. In Ben Trask's files, perhaps?' But:

'No,' Lardis shook his head, smiling in that knowing way of his. 'No, I haven't told you. I've had no reason to mention it to anyone. And as far as I know it isn't written anywhere.'

Then, creaking to his feet, the old man yawned and said, 'Well, goodnight, Jake. And pleasant dreams…'

But in fact Jake's dreams were anything but pleasant…