Licence To Howl by Helen Harper

Chapter Twenty-Two

The stenchthat assailed Devereau’s nostrils as soon as he pushed open the door and crossed into the all-but derelict building was quite something. Stale body odour combined with the pervasive smell of damp, potent alcoholic beverages and vomit. Underlying it were the odours of both desperate desire and depressed resignation. Yeah. Devereau knew this smell. It wasn’t any different to a hundred different places he’d been to in London in his previous life as a human. When you reached the dark bottom of a bottomless pit, this was the kind of place you ended up. It was an easier situation to fall into than most people realised. But Devereau was also aware that there was a camaraderie amongst those who’d dropped through the holes in the fabric of society that people on the outside wouldn’t recognise. They wouldn’t take well to threats against one of their own, no matter who that person was or whether he truly belonged there. That was one of the reasons why he was better doing this alone.

As if he’d flicked a switch, his demeanour altered dramatically now that he was inside. His shoulders dropped and, while his facial expression remained unchanged, his body language exuded menace and fear all at the same time. One emotion fed the other but being able to put on a front that included both was something that the most skilled actor would struggle with. You had to understand the emotions to be able to present them effectively. And Devereau understood. It didn’t matter that he didn’t speak Italian. His aura would do all of the talking.

Side-stepping a pile of stained blankets, Devereau walked into the first room. There was a couple huddled together on a dirty sofa and a man humming to himself from a rug on the floor. All three of them glanced up at him before their eyes slid away less out of intimidation and more out of recognition as a kindred spirit. He grunted an acknowledgment. No Vissier here then.

Devereau turned, ignoring the heavy creak of the floorboards, and headed for the narrow staircase. He toed aside some of the strewn litter blocking his path and then ascended. Tinny dance music was throbbing from one of the rooms on the first floor. Devereau looked in at the half dozen or so people dancing inside. Half of them were moving to the beat of the music. The other half seemed to be in a world of their own, their bodies swaying to a rhythm all of their own.

A young woman barged past him, her body brushing against his shoulder. She glared at him for getting in her way as she was trying to leave. Devereau gave her a wide smile in return but made sure not to allow it to touch his eyes. She recoiled slightly and continued on her way. Devereau elected to go towards the direction from which she’d come.

The further he went, the darker the house seemed to become. There were a lot of nooks and crannies where someone could hide. It made sense that Geraint Vissier would choose to come somewhere like this. Nobody would think to look for him here without a solid tip-off like the one Moretti had received. And yet Devereau doubted that the Dutchman was comfortable here. From what little he’d gleaned of the man during Solentino’s lunch, he was a nervy sort of fellow as well as fastidious. He’d be used to far more sanitary conditions than here. Devereau considered the matter before tipping his head upwards. Vissier would want to keep himself to himself and away from the taint of the decrepit house. He was a penthouse kind of a man.

With that thought in his mind, Devereau abandoned his attempts to search every single room and instead quickly continued upwards to the top of the house. The higher he went, the more draughty the building became. The debris on the stairs became harder to navigate and it appeared that a large amount of the roof which had caved in had fallen inside. With the remnants of old roof slates and chunks of brick, it was impossible to attempt to move silently so Devereau didn’t bother trying to be quiet. He simply ensured that his steps were unhurried so that anyone listening in from above wouldn’t be threatened by a sense of approaching urgency.

He passed a few more people, marvelling at how many were actually inside the house in total and glad that he’d come alone. There was no doubt in his mind that at least several of the current residents were armed with knives at the very least and that any sort of incursion by a large group of werewolves on the hunt would only have resulted in unnecessary bloodshed and pain. It wasn’t the wolves he was protecting; it was the sorry human beings who’d ended up here. They deserved better than this. Everyone did.

By the time he was on the final flight of stairs, Devereau could see the darkening sky from above through the gaping hole in the roof. He could also hear steady breathing from someone who was above him. When he rounded the last corner, and his eyes fell on the huddled shape wrapped in a blanket on the broken landing on the top floor, he knew he’d found Vissier.

‘You,’ the Dutchman gasped. ‘You. How did you find me?’ Vissier fumbled underneath the blanket and, a moment later, produced a gun. He wasted no time in pointing it directly at Devereau’s head.

‘I’m not responsible for what happened to Christopher Solentino,’ Devereau said calmly. ‘No matter what you think you saw. I arrived at the apartment only minutes before you did. You know I was at the Colosseum. You know I wouldn’t have had the time to kill all those people.’

He wasn’t sure that Vissier had heard him. The man’s hands were shaking, causing the muzzle of the gun to jerk. ‘I’ve got silver bullets,’ he quavered. ‘And I will shoot.’

Devereau splayed his hands out to show he was unarmed. ‘If you had silver bullets, you’d have already pulled the trigger.’ He gazed at the gun without a flicker of fear. ‘Do you have any bullets in that thing?’

Vissier raised his voice. ‘Get away from me! Get the fuck away!’

Devereau crouched down until he was eye level with him. ‘Geraint,’ he said. ‘Or would you prefer Gee? You need to relax. You knew this was inevitable. You knew you wouldn’t get away.’

The Dutchman stared at him wide-eyed.

‘The house is almost completely surrounded. You won’t get away. There are werewolves from clan Lupo all around this place.’ He paused for a moment to allow the information to sink into Vissier’s thick skull. ‘But luckily, they’re not here to hurt you. Nobody is. All I need is for you to talk. Tell me everything you know and I’ll let you walk away from here.’

Vissier waved the gun at him. ‘I don’t know anything! All I know is that you murdered all my friends! You’re a madman. A fucking madman!’

That was rich coming from someone who was a terrorist. Wisely, Devereau didn’t say that. ‘First of all,’ he said, ‘I didn’t murder anyone. Even if I’d wanted to, I didn’t have time – a fact that you should be well aware of. Second of all,’ he continued, ‘I don’t believe those people were your friends. I was there yesterday, remember? I saw how Solentino treated you. Nobody stood up for you then and I saw what he did to Mike Lancaster afterwards. There might be honour amongst thieves but there was certainly no honour amongst your little group.’

From the way Vissier twitched, Devereau could tell that his words were striking a chord.

‘I thought you killed him and the others,’ Vissier said, almost spitting the words out. ‘So if you didn’t then I don’t know who did. I can’t help you.’

He’d already suspected as much. ‘You know you’d be dead too,’ Devereau told him, ‘if you’d not been following Scarlett and I.’

Vissier’s face spasmed into an ugly twist. ‘So you’re claiming that it’s because of you that I’m still alive?’

‘I’m here now,’ Devereau said quietly, ‘and you’re still breathing. Right?’

Vissier’s eyes shifted, darting from side to side.

‘Why were you following us?’

‘Alina wanted me to make sure we could trust you. She was sure you were too attached to the vampire to do what Solentino wanted and she made Solentino send me after you to be sure. So I waited until I knew you were out of the way and I could get into your hotel room to take a look around and plant a few bugs to listen in to what you were up to. Clearly, the bitch was right and there’s not a single trustworthy bone in your body.’

‘Or maybe,’ Devereau returned, ‘I’m not as keen to murder my own colleagues as your supposed friends are.’

A shadow crossed Vissier’s face. He didn’t drop the gun but his voice did alter slightly. ‘If I talk to you,’ he said, ‘if I tell you everything I know, you’ll let me go?’

‘Absolutely.’

The Dutchman drew in a shaky breath as he weighed up his options. Truthfully, from the moment Devereau had entered this building, he had none – and he knew it. ‘Fine,’ he snapped. ‘What is it you want to know?’

‘Whoever killed your boss and the others also hurt Alina. But her body wasn’t at the apartment. Either she was taken by the killers or she ran. Given the amount of her blood we found at the scene, it’s more likely the killers took her. Why would they have done that?’

Despite his precarious situation, Vissier still stared at Devereau with complete incredulity. ‘How would I know?’

‘What would Alina have known about your activities that the others didn’t?’

‘How to suck Solentino’s damned dick. She thinks she’s smart but she’s nothing more than an airhead with a pretty face. Eye candy. Who gives a fuck about Alina?’

Clearly not Geraint Vissier. Regardless, Devereau persisted. ‘Is there any reason at all why she wasn’t killed like the others?’

‘Not that I know of. She’s a woman,’ Vissier scoffed. ‘And a stupid woman at that even if she did have Solentino wrapped around her little finger.’

Devereau tilted his head. Curious. Even for a unstilting misogynist, Vissier was dismissing her far too quickly. ‘Was there something between you two?’

He didn’t answer.

‘Did you try it on with Alina Bonnet and she turned you down?’

Vissier recoiled. ‘No! She was mine! It was Solentino who took her from me. Before he came along, Alina and I had a good thing going. Then she decided he was the better option,’ he said bitterly. ‘Fucking bitch.’

Huh. Devereau scratched his chin. That was interesting. No wonder Vissier was so bitter about her. Switching tack for now, he dropped his voice. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘Solentino was tortured.’

Vissier jerked.

‘And,’ Devereau continued, ‘the room at the back where I presume you kept all the details of your upcoming plan was completely ransacked. Almost everything was either destroyed or taken.’

Vissier’s brow creased as he considered the ramifications of that particular titbit. ‘They wanted them,’ he said. ‘They wanted the plans for themselves. Everything was set up and ready to go. If Bartan hadn’t gotten himself killed and if Solentino hadn’t listened to fucking Alina and been so determined to get that ring to see into the future,’ Vissier rolled his eyes, ‘then we’d could have started at any moment. Instead, he wanted us to wait till he could get the ring even though everything was already in place.’

‘What?’ Devereau prompted. ‘What was in place? What were the plans?’

He snorted. ‘To make money. What else is there?’

‘Go on.’

Vissier allowed himself a tiny smile. Pride, Devereau realised. He was proud of whatever shit they’d cooked up together. ‘We start in Rome,’ he said. ‘We contact the government. We tell them that either they pay us what we demand or we blow something up.’

‘And what?’ Devereau asked baffled. ‘Surely you wouldn’t expect them to give you money based on a threat like that.’

Vissier tossed the gun to one side. ‘You were right,’ he said, ‘it isn’t loaded.’ He gesticulated towards Devereau. ‘And of course they wouldn’t give us anything. We didn’t expect they would.’

‘So?’

A smile spread across Vissier’s face. ‘So we blow something up.’

Devereau stared at him. Vissier laughed.

‘You’re looking at me like I’m some kind of bloodthirsty maniac. I’m no psychopath, Mr Webb. None of us are.’ His mouth downturned. ‘None of us were. Not even Solentino, although he had his moments. We had a shortlist of targets ready to go. They were carefully selected to create maximum impact. But because we’re not monsters, we wanted minimum bloodshed.’ He shrugged with cold-hearted pragmatism. ‘Some innocents would inevitably die. But not many.’

‘What do you mean?’

Vissier smiled nastily. ‘You saw what happened with Notre Dame, right?’

Devereau squinted. ‘You mean the fire?’

‘The fire. The outpouring of grief that an old building could be placed in such mortal danger. The money that was raised to save it.’ Vissier waved around him. ‘This is an old building. You don’t see anyone rushing to return it to its former glory. But it’s not in the right place and doesn’t attract the right people. And this is Rome. There are no shortage of beautiful old buildings.’

‘Like the Colosseum.’

Vissier nodded. ‘It made our shortlist. But it’s already in ruins. There were other candidates. The Trevi Fountain. St Peter’s Basilica. The Sistine Chapel. All were viable. We blow one up. And then we move on.’

Devereau already knew where they were planning to move on to but he was unwilling to reveal to Vissier what he’d already worked out. ‘To where?’

‘Berlin. There we repeat what we already started. We contact the authorities. We make our demands. And if those demands are not met, we blow something up. Solentino reckoned it was fifty fifty that we’d make any money from the Germans. By the time we moved onto Paris, however,’ his smile broadened, ‘well, by then not only would our threats be believed but we would be taken very, very seriously. Maybe we’d choose Notre Dame. Maybe somewhere else. The Eiffel Tower perhaps. Or the Louvre.’ His eyes danced with cold amusement. ‘Imagine all those works of art,’ he snapped his fingers, ‘gone forever.’ Vissier smiled to himself. ‘And then when we got to London it would be a fait accompli. The British government would fall over themselves to pay up whatever we demanded.’

It was a bone chillingly clever plan. It wasn’t as foolproof as Vissier imagined, however. ‘Those governments don’t negotiate with terrorists.’

Vissier smirked. ‘That’s a myth. Governments negotiate with terrorists all the time. They pretend they don’t but they absolutely do. Sometimes they go out of their way for such negotiations and make the first approach. Here,’ he mimicked, ‘take these weapons that I will give you for free. Just make sure you only use them to kill people we don’t like.’

‘You don’t really think you’d be able to get away with all this though?’

Vissier dismissed his doubts with a flick of his wrist. ‘Solentino had all the details worked out. He knew a lot of people who could help with the plans and the set-up. And he wanted the ring you have in your belly to double check that everything would go ahead as it should. From the moment the first button was pressed here in Rome it would have been plain sailing.’ He snarled suddenly. ‘Until Solentino was murdered himself that was.’

Devereau tried to control his breathing. ‘You had a shortlist of specific targets for each city? But you don’t know what the final decision was and what actual buildings are going to be attacked?’

‘We had to remain flexible. After all, who knows what last minute security procedures might be put into place? We are talking about rich cities. But rich cities with a lot of history and a lot of potential places to target.’ He raised his shoulders. ‘And who knows? Maybe it would end up being a positive thing when people around Europe realise that their governments are more willing to spend millions to save mere bricks and mortar than put money into helping save their own people from poverty and ill health.’

Devereau watched him with expressionless eyes. ‘You’re all heart. You have no idea who might have killed Solentino and taken all the plans? Can’t you speculate?’

Vissier pursed his lips. ‘If it definitely wasn’t you, then there’s only one obvious choice. It always seemed a bit suspect that Bartan died when he did. He was integral to a lot of our movements between each country. Avanopoulos appeared very eager to step in and fill his shoes.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Too eager. Before now I didn’t think he would be smart enough to pull something like this off. But I was wrong. Solentino was right to be worried about him.’

Perhaps. Devereau gazed at him for a moment or two. ‘I hope you’ve not left anything out,’ he said finally. ‘I found you here. That means I can find you anywhere. If I discover that there’s anything you’re not telling me, it won’t go well for you. I can promise you that.’

Vissier glared at him. ‘I’ve told you all I know. Will you let me go?’

Devereau didn’t smile. ‘Let’s walk out of here together.’

* * *

The other inhabitantsof the building paid them no attention as they walked out. Devereau pocketed the gun rather than leave it for someone else to find and took up position behind Vissier.

‘I still have to hide,’ Vissier said. ‘Just because you didn’t kill Solentino doesn’t mean that whoever did isn’t still after me.’

‘I wouldn’t worry about that,’ Devereau murmured. He gave him a nudge out onto the street. There were already a dozen werewolves waiting there, including Moretti. Devereau glanced in Scarlett’s direction. She was watching him but her face was giving nothing away. He gave her a quick nod to indicate that Vissier had told them what they needed. Then Moretti stepped forward.

Vissier glanced to the side, frowning. ‘I left my bike here. Where has it gone?’

‘You won’t be needing it,’ Moretti said.

Vissier tensed. ‘What is this?’ He swung his head towards Devereau. ‘You told me I’d be safe! You told me that you’d let me go!’

Devereau took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t feel an ounce of sympathy or so much as a whisker of guilt. ‘You might be right,’ he said aloud, ‘that governments are willing to negotiate with terrorists. But I am not. Yes, I told you that I’d let you go. Unfortunately for you, however, I lied.’

Vissier launched himself at Devereau, fists raised. He didn’t get very far. In a split second, a wolf landed on his back. Vissier was sent sprawling to the ground. Within mere moments, he was surrounded by a ring of snarling werewolves.

‘You fucking bastard, Webb! You fucking bastard!’

Devereau shrugged. He’d been called worse. He looked at Moretti. ‘I know the plan,’ he said. ‘And now I know it, we can stop it, no matter who had decided to fill Solentino’s shoes.’

He’d barely finished his sentence when a strange rumble tore through the air. The cracked tarmac underneath Devereau’s feet began to shake. From the distance, somewhere towards the other side of the city, a sudden plume of smoke and fire shot up into the night sky. Oh no. Oh hell no. There were shouts of alarm and panicked screams from both near and far away.

From the ground Geraint Vissier began to laugh. ‘That came from the city centre,’ he said. ‘It’s already started. You’re already far too late to stop anything.’