The Scarlet Deep
Page 38

“Friendly game. Serious conversation.” Terry set his beer down and lined up the cue at an angle Murphy knew would fail while setting him up for his first pot. Excellent. “I’ve always liked you, Murphy, even though you picked my worst game.”
He suppressed the smile. “Is that so?”
“Don’t act like you didn’t know. You spotted that before you walked through the door. That’s part of the reason I like you.”
Terry missed the shot, leaving Murphy to pot a red and a colored ball before he gave his host another chance to strike.
Murphy finished his wine and went to grab a bottle of porter. “So you like me because I can beat you at snooker?”
“No, I like you because you’re like me, Murphy.” Terry straightened and grinned a crooked smile. “You and I are a couple of old criminals. You just wear a suit better than me, mate.”
He clinked the neck of his beer against Murphy’s and leaned against the wood-paneled wall.
“So…” Murphy leaned over and lined up another shot. Then another. “What did you want to discuss outside the presence of the respectable vampires, Ramsay?”
“Straight talk. Who do you think is shipping it?”
Murphy shook his head. “I can’t see it yet. Someone in the Mediterranean. Whoever is behind this is smart. They’re using a mix. Human and immortal lines. Smugglers and legitimate shippers. Black Sea. Mediterranean. There have even been ships that’ve stopped in North Africa.”
Terry asked, “Could it be Rome after all? Deciding to pick up where Livia left off?”
“I don’t think so. Emil Conti is too conservative.”
“The Libyans?”
Murphy shook his head. “Also too conservative. And their human governments have been unstable of late. They’re keeping their ambitions at home.”
“The Turks?”
“It’s not the Turks.” Murphy lined up another red. “Istanbul is the only shipping location we’ve seen any mention of, and that’s controlled by Athens.”
Murphy blinked and missed the shot.
Fuck him. That was it. Click.
“It’s the Greeks,” he said, stepping away from the table. “Athens is shipping it.”
Terry gave him a withering look. “Athens? Why?”
“I’m not sure of that part yet.”
“But you’re sure it’s them?”
He was. And… he wasn’t. What was their motivation? They had to have a reason to poison their own blood supply. There were too many variables. Too many angles he couldn’t yet see.
Terry said, “The Greeks don’t have the money to finance this. They make a fortune in the Bosphorus, but they spend it faster than they make it from what I hear.”
“They don’t have the cash.” He stepped up to take another shot. “But they could have an investor. They have the infrastructure and the connections to organize it.”
“I don’t agree.”
“Fine. But you are wrong.” A red. A color. The balls around the table were potted in quick succession. “This game, Ramsay, it’s all about thinking ahead. Don’t think of the shot you’re taking, think of the next angle. The next pot. The ball after that.”
“Vampires aren’t as predictable as cue balls.”
“They are and they aren’t.” He sank another red. “Why are you charging five hundred pounds for a bottle of blood-wine when I can hunt for free? Let’s be honest, blood always tastes better fresh from the neck. So why five hundred a bottle?”
“Because the market supports it. The blood supply is uncertain right now because of Elixir. And most vampires have more money than scruples.”
“You’re absolutely right.” Murphy finished the game without Terry ever stepping up to the table again. “So from one old criminal to another, let’s follow the money, shall we?”
Terry asked, “Who benefits from an uncertain blood supply?”
Murphy set down his cue stick and swallowed the last of his beer. “You do.”
Terry let a slow smile spread over his face. “I suppose I do. But I’m not the only one.”
No, Terry wasn’t the only one who might benefit from Elixir continuing to spread.
But he was the easiest one to spy on.
THE Cockleshell Pub in Gravesend was one swift storm away from drifting down the river in pieces. But the strange old floating pub was still the best place to get in touch with the one water vampire too elusive for anyone to find unless he wanted to be found. It was also closed to humans at this time of night. From the outside, the place looked abandoned.
But Murphy knew there was a strange brotherhood of water vampires who chose the pub as their unofficial office, and Anne’s sire was the oldest among them.
Murphy ignored the curious look from the vampire who opened the door. He slipped inside, enjoying the smell of the river even if he didn’t appreciate the stink of old piss and stale beer inside the pub. He took a booth in the corner and waited for someone to approach him.
After a few moments, the barman approached. “Don’t get many from your end of town. What’ll ya have?”
“What are you serving?”
The one-eyed publican gave him a grim smile. “A fancy Irishman. How about that?”
Murphy didn’t respond.
“We’ve got fresh if you like,” the old man said. “Girls in back for those wanting a tup along with a meal. They’re clean. Preserved human. Cow and pig. That’s all, mate.”