“Which brings to mind Roman Ardelean.”
“Unfortunately, the video we saw did show a man coming in and dragging Isabella Marin out, but it wasn’t Ardelean.” She gave him the description of the man, told him about the two puncture wounds in Gil Brooks’s neck. “But he wasn’t exsanguinated, Nicholas, not like the Vampire Killer, or Dracula, Interpol is looking for.
“The man—who isn’t Ardelean—hauled the woman away, probably downstairs to the apartment garage. Nicholas, she looked like she’d been drugged or smacked hard. She works at the British Museum. I’m heading there right now. Oh yes, Gareth says hello.”
“Hello back to him. Now, Barstow has called Ardelean three times, and he’s not answering. We’ve sent a team to watch over the Belgravia flat. Adam is looking for any possible addresses for Ardelean outside of Belgravia, and so far we’re coming up blank. We may start tapping into CCTV and see what we can find from yesterday. Ardelean had to come to us from somewhere, perhaps we can follow him back out.”
“Was he driving or walking?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“Remember the article you showed me about the Internet of Things and how easy it is to hack someone’s personal information out of the devices they’re using for their home and for their car? You said it was possible to hack into a car’s GPS system and see addresses. If you can find his car, maybe you can find an address that way.”
“Mike, you are brilliant. We’ll get on it right away. We have to find his car, obviously, but they’ll have a record of its make, model, and vehicle registration plates in the parking garage.”
“Glad to help. Why hasn’t MI5 released his information to the media?”
“My father wants to capture Ardelean quietly. It won’t do for the public to get wind of his and Barstow’s actions. We’re talking a big scandal in the government, not good.”
“Barstow set the train wreck in motion, and now people are dead. They won’t be able to cover it up forever.”
“I agree, but this isn’t my call. We will certainly go public if we need to, but for the moment, since Ardelean has means to flee the country and disappear, we want to try to keep this quiet. If he is as unstable as Barstow claims, and it goes public, he might retaliate with more attacks.”
“I’m off to the British Museum. Nicholas, you’ll find him. Have faith.”
“Will do. You keep me up to date, as well. And, Mike? Be careful. If Ardelean gets wind of us looking for him, I don’t think he’ll hesitate to come after us again. If he knows where you are—just be careful.”
Nicholas hung up with Mike and started typing again. Adam had imported all the CCTV feed from the surrounding area, and Nicholas had tapped into the garage system so he could pull up the car and registration plate. All the while, the back of his mind was spinning.
Who was Roman Ardelean?
“Ben, do me a favor. Find Ardelean’s history, his whole backstory. We’re missing something here.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
There are around 2,000 people with severe haemophilia A in the U.K. A hereditary genetic condition dominantly affecting men, people with severe haemophilia A have virtually none of the protein factor VIII, which is essential for blood to clot. It puts those affected at risk of excessive bleeding even from the slightest injury, as well as causing spontaneous internal bleeding, which can be life-threatening. . . . [T]here is no cure.
—MedicalXPress.com
Radu watched from the window as Roman strode down to the dock.
He could tell things were unraveling, had a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. All the work they’d done, all the planning, the years of searching, and they’d finally found the person who could cure him. But Roman was unstable now, furious and impatient, and betrayed, so betrayed, by the man he’d thought was his friend—and Radu had believed was his friend, as well—Caleb Temora. And what of Barstow, once his trusted partner?
Iago came to the window with him. “I will let the cast out to follow him. They always calm him.”
“What do we do, Iago? I’m afraid for him.”
“We trust in him, wholeheartedly. He is the last hope for you, for this family. He has never wanted anything more than to see you well, to see you cured. You must have faith, Master Radu. And you should speak with the woman. She knows things in the way Roman does, knows Romanian, knows the ways of our people. If it is her blood that will cure you, you need to establish her trust.”
Radu glanced at Isabella Marin. She was staring at the ceiling, unblinking. Iago was right, but speaking with other people frightened him. But at least she could both speak and understand his mother tongue.
“Go, Master Radu, go, you must.”
He crossed the room and sat next to her. He didn’t look at her, but he said in Voynichese, “Our people have been subjugated for years. Feared. Misunderstood.”
“Our people?”
“Vampires.”
Isabella looked up at him. She hadn’t realized before, she’d been too frozen with fear, but now she saw this twin was ill, very ill, and he was uncomfortable with her. Because she was a woman? Or because he wasn’t comfortable with people? Now he believed he was a vampire? She said, her voice flat, “You’re a man, not a vampire.”
“I am a descendant of Vlad Dracul, and I think you are, too. I come from an illegitimate line of men who are drawn to blood. This blood disorder runs in the family. It always appears in the twins. One has it, and one does not. One twin is strong, the other weak. You have no idea what it’s like, either.”
“Tell me.”
“There’s a burning inside me. It’s hard to explain, but it’s there, always there. Roman and I have experimented with so many ways to transfuse, even drinking the blood of possible matches, as the legends say. Nothing has worked to heal me, but it’s kept me alive much longer than any of my predecessors. Of course, I’ve been developing new treatments for years. None have benefitted me, but we do share them with the world. I’ve saved countless lives.”
“You’ve killed people before me to take their blood?”
Radu said simply, “It is the only way. Roman researches and selects Romanians who seem possible, he brings me their blood, and we experiment.”
Isabella couldn’t help herself. “I know you are ill, that you are afraid of dying, but so am I. So was the man I was supposed to marry, yet your twin murdered him, in cold blood, for no higher reason than he was there! And all the other people your brother has murdered for their blood? Do you believe your life is more important than theirs? Than mine?”
“Roman says I cannot die, I am too valuable to humanity. Every human we sacrifice is to provide me longer life to continue with my work. This man with you last night, he wasn’t really all that important, now was he?”
If only she could have leaped on him, killed him with her bare fists. He believed what he’d said as he believed his brother, utterly. Another tack then. Isabella said, “Surely you must know by now I’ve been missed. My employers will have reported my absence to the police.”
He shrugged. “It is nothing to us. Roman has eyes and ears everywhere.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“You think I’m lying? Our software is on every computer that matters. We can look into any of them, at any time. We own you. We own the government. We own the world.”
“And yet here you are, locked away, shuttered inside these rooms, unable to leave, or love. I think the world owns you.”
He shrugged. “Who needs to move in the real world? It’s dirty and cruel. I live in cyberspace. I live in the crevasses most people forget. When they stopped worshipping in churches and started worshipping their screens, I became their god.”
“Like your brother, you are mad.”
“I am far from mad. I told you: I’ve spent my life looking for a cure for this affliction, my family affliction. So many generations with twins, one strong, one weak. How did you really come by the pages, Isabella?”