So, goodbye.'
Plainly Darcy didn't know what to say. 'You're our greatest asset - or you were.'
'I'm just a man,' Harry answered, and meant it. 'And anyway, the Branch has enough going for it.'
'But... lock, stock and barrel?'
Harry shrugged. That doesn't amount to much. Nothing, in fact. What's in that wardrobe in my room can stay for now. Maybe I'll pick it up sometime.'
That's not what I meant. No contact?'
'Only if you find my wife and child. But in any case, I'll probably find them first.' Suppressing a yawn but stretching a little, the Necroscope grimaced as he felt a scab break on his thigh under new bandages. His expression was wry as he looked at his hands, which were also bandaged.
'You should have had stitches,' Darcy was concerned.
'I hate stitches!' Harry answered. 'Not to mention scars! This way if I'm lucky there'll be no scars.'
'So where will you go? And when? Not tonight, surely?'
There's my flat in Hartlepool, which could use some tidying up before I sell. It's been empty for well over a year. And my inheritance up in Bonnyrig, that big old house. I think I'd probably like the solitude, and I would be that much closer to my Ma. As for when: what's wrong with tonight?'
'Look,' Darcy said, suddenly anxious, 'we're both tired. You especially. You look all in! And we don't see things right - nobody does - when we're, tired. Spend the night here; have breakfast with me in the morning; make up your mind then.'
Harry shrugged again. 'It's made up,' he answered. 'On the other hand, you're right and I am tired. Okay, tomorrow is soon enough ... "
Darcy looked pleased, said, 'And you'll stay in touch - I mean, when you're settled?'
Harry sighed. 'If you promise not to bother me ... maybe. But let's have it understood right here and now - I'm through with E-Branch, Darcy. It isn't me. I wouldn't have time for the Branch anyway, no time for anything, until I know about Brenda and little Harry.'
Darcy nodded. 'Very well...' And then, on an afterthought: 'What will I tell the police?'
'Eh?'
They found two bodies in that burned-out van. One was our werewolf, yes, but the other . . .? They're bound to identify him, you know. And then there's the one inside the garage, shot dead ... but with a crossbow?'
'Let's deal with George Jakes first,' Harry answered. The big question is going to be: how did George get out of a Fulham mortuary into a burned out van in the East End, right?'
'You're the last one who saw him, er, in designated situ, as it were. If we have to put a name on all of this - I mean, we won't, but if we had to - '
'It would be mine, yes ... " Harry gave it a few seconds of thought, and said, Tell them that A.C. Jamieson was an obeah man from Haiti. They should be able to prove that easily enough. He must have stolen Jakes's body so that he could use it to put some kind of hex on the police. As for why he chose to commit suicide: who knows? He was a madman, after all. Also, tell them to look for a shrivelled or melted wolf-mask, and a claw glove. Then they'll have all they need.'
'More than they need,' Darcy agreed. That garage was full of class motors, most of them knocked off!'
'As for the one inside the garage, "Skippy" ... maybe that was Jamieson's work, too. Sure he was a madman, but mad like a fox!
Killing Skippy, he was covering his tracks. Simple ... "
'And the murder weapon?'
They won't find it,' Harry shook his head.
'Something you haven't told me?'
'Something I might look into, eventually.'
'Well, then,' said Darcy, nodding thoughtfully, 'it seems we've covered just about everything.' Then the faint half-smile that had almost made it onto his face turned to a frown. 'Still, I'm glad Jakes didn't leave anyone behind.
Family, I mean.'
'I know what you mean,' Harry answered. 'It would be hard to explain, right? But don't go worrying about Jakes, Darcy. I have it on pretty good authority that he doesn't feel sorry for himself, just glad that he got his man, albeit after the fact.'
Thinking about it, Darcy's face went pale. He remembered the Bodescu case, Hartlepool on the north-east coast, and the teeming dead coming up out of their graves. But for the fact that he - what, liked the Necroscope? trusted him? knew there was no menace