"You said it was getting worse," Liz said. "I think the word you used was War."
The speakerphone crackled again, and Hellboy had a crazy image of his boss crumpling up a piece of paper in front of his microphone and saying, "You're breaking up, sorry ... break ... " Then Tom coughed and sighed, and even electronically Hellboy could hear the directors weariness. "When you read Blake's statement, you'll see what I mean. It's like a declaration of war, reality against mythology. Several countries have already tried military attacks against these things. Spain and Portugal. Greece. North Korea."
"And what happened?" Hellboy asked, but he could guess the answer.
"Spain lost fifteen fighter aircraft against a swarm of harpies. More than a hundred Greek soldiers have drowned trying to deal with supposed mermaids, and our satellites tell us that the North Koreans lost an armored brigade."
"What were they fighting?" Liz asked.
"I don't know," Tom said. "But whatever it was, they're blaming South Korea and massing their forces along the borders."
"Oh, come on," Hellboy said. "Tom, can you send the Blake statement to us?"
"I faxed it a few minutes ago. Should be waiting for you with our people at the airport."
"Who's meeting us?"
"Two of our guys from the U.S. embassy. Don't worry, they're not diplomats or secret service. One of them is a sensitive from Boston, the other is a Brit ghost hunter we've worked with a couple of times before."
"What's his name?" Hellboy asked.
"Jim Sugg."
"Hey, I know Jim! I met him back in '84 when they had that trouble over in London."
"What was that?" Liz asked.
"They televised a supposedly dramatized haunting, turned out it was real. Double bluff. Nobody believed a word of it, of course."
"Triple bluff?"
"Er ... "
"Hellboy," Tom said, "I want you and Liz to get straight to the embassy. They're already trying to set up a meeting with the British minister of defense. This is very sensitive. I don't want you just barging into London, not with everything that's going on around the world. The Brits are a bit jumpy right now, and it's no surprise. They're the only European country where nothing untoward has happened so far."
Hellboy looked from his window at the spread of housing, factories, shopping malls, road arteries, occasional clumps of green where planners had suddenly remembered what had been here before people. "I guess that's about to change," he said. His breath misted the window and obscured the scene, but it quickly cleared again, begging him to look.
"Tom," Liz said, "any news of Abe or Abby?"
"I called Abe and told him everything we know," Tom said. "And ... " He broke off, but the connection was still open, crackling with potential.
"And what?" Hellboy asked.
"And he checked out the dead werewolf. Guys, Abe is certain that Abby is one of Blake's creations. He won't say why he thinks this is true, but — "
"I trust him with my life," Hellboy said. "If he says it's so, it's so."
"It's an added confusion," Tom said, "but it makes it even more important for Abe to find her. She's BPRD. We can't have her slaughtering a movie theater full of people come the full moon."
"Not to mention she's confused and hurting right now," Liz said.
Tom did not reply.
"We're about to land," Hellboy said. "Speak to you later, Tom."
"Best of luck," Tom said. "And Hellboy ... Liz ... "
"Yeah, we know, Tom," Liz said. "We'll do our best."
The satellite phone hissed off, Liz grabbed Hellboy's hand, and a few minutes later the Lear screeched down onto the tarmac at Heathrow Airport.
* * *