“Maybe it is,” said Jamie. “At least partly. But I’m with Qiang. There’s something going on here that we’re not being told, and I’m sure it’s got something to do with Lazarus.”

“Why are you sure?” asked Ellison.

Jamie shrugged. “Matt Browning is pretty much the project’s second-in-command, and I haven’t seen him for over a week. Nobody has. And as far as I can tell, nobody has seen anybody from the project for three or four days, at least. And now the SOP gets changed. It might be nothing. But I don’t think it is.”

“Because you haven’t seen your friend for a week?” said Ellison. “That’s a bit of a reach, don’t you think?”

“Maybe so,” said Jamie. “But think about it. Why do we have to bring vamps back to the Loop with us? If this was just about PR, if it was the Director trying to show the world that we don’t just kill indiscriminately, then the new SOP could just be a ban on lethal force. But it specifically tells us to bring vampires back alive.”

The three Operators fell silent. The van’s engine rumbled as it carried them towards their Patrol Respond grid in the north Lincoln suburbs. The fold-down screen glowed in the darkness, waiting for an alert from the Surveillance Division that would see them leap into action.

“It would be something, though, wouldn’t it?” said Ellison, her voice low. “A cure, I mean. It would change everything.”

“Yes,” said Qiang.

“It could give us a real advantage,” said Ellison. “Particularly if it could be weaponised, like into an aerosol that we could spray over a large area. We could take out dozens of vamps at a time. Hundreds, even.”

“It would be huge,” said Jamie. “Every vamp that doesn’t want to be one could go back to normal. We could cut the numbers down to almost nothing.”

“What about Dracula?” said Ellison. “Surely it would work on him if it worked on the others?”

Jamie shrugged. “Unless he’s something different. He was the first, after all.”

“Have you ever wondered about that?” asked Qiang. “About what turned Dracula in the first place?”

“I don’t know,” said Jamie. “I don’t think anybody does, except for him. And I can’t imagine he’s going to tell us.”

“You should give it a shot,” said Ellison, and grinned. “Next time you see him, ask him if he’s got a spare five minutes to explain it to you.”

Jamie smiled. “I’ll do that,” he said. “Remind me when—”

An alarm tone rang out of the speakers as the screen changed to display an alert from the Surveillance Division.

ECHELON INTERCEPT REF. 97692/3BR

SOURCE. Emergency call (landline telephone 01522 983572)

TIME OF INTERCEPT. 22:07

TRANSCRIPT BEGINS.

OPERATOR: Emergency service operator, which service, please?

CALLER: I need the police and the fire brigade.

OPERATOR: What is the nature of the emergency?

CALLER: There’s a bloody mob outside my house. They’re trying to get into my neighbour’s and they’re shouting that they’re going to burn them out. You have to come now.

OPERATOR: Please stay calm, sir. Tell me your address.

CALLER: It’s 83 Lemington Close, Lincoln.

OPERATOR: Emergency services are on their way, sir. Are you in danger yourself?

CALLER: I don’t know. I don’t think so, unless they torch next door. They’re vampires, my neighbours. They’re vampires and people are trying to get to them. They’ve got cans of petrol and sticks and bloody bats. There’s dozens of them.

OPERATOR: Stay in your home and lock the doors, sir. Help will be there very soon.

TRANSCRIPT ENDS.

INTERCEPT REFERENCE LOCATION. Lemington Close, Lincoln, Lincolnshire. 53.247426, -0.501337

RISK ASSESSMENT. Priority Level 1

“Jesus,” said Ellison, her face pale. “How far?”

“Eight minutes,” said their driver.

“Do it in five,” said Jamie.

Four and a half minutes later the van hurtled into Lemington Close, a suburban cul-de-sac of small detached houses and neatly tended lawns.

The external cameras showed the three Operators a wide view of the street; halfway down it, gathered outside one of the houses on the left, was a surging crowd of people, screaming and shouting and waving lengths of wood and cricket bats in the air. It was at least twenty strong, perhaps even thirty or thirty-five.

“How close do you want to be, sir?” asked their driver.

“Right behind them,” said Jamie. “Ellison, Qiang, Ready One as soon as we’re clear of the van. I want this dispersed as quickly as possible. I don’t care where they go, as long as it’s away from here. Scare the shit out of them and send them running. Clear?”

“Yes, sir,” said his squad mates, looks of calm determination on their faces.

The van’s brakes squealed, rocking them in their seats as the vehicle shuddered to a halt. Jamie threw open the door, leapt down on to the road, and was sent crashing to the ground as something hard and heavy smashed into the back of his head.

The impact was huge; without the protective cushioning of his helmet, it would have shattered his skull into a thousand pieces. He slammed on to the tarmac, his eyes wide, his head ringing, and felt his vampire side come roaring forward; heat filled his eyes, his fangs slid down from his gums, and a wave of fury exploded through him as he leapt back to his feet and looked around for whoever had been stupid enough to hit him.

A baseball bat swung out of the darkness, directly towards his visor, but he was ready for it; he flung himself backwards, rising easily into the air and hovering above the tarmac. The man holding the bat overbalanced and staggered sideways; Jamie sped forward, his gloved hands curled like claws, and hurled him against the rear of the van. The man’s head cracked against the metal and he folded to the ground, the bat tumbling from his grip. Behind him, Jamie’s squad mates leapt out of the van as Ellison spoke directly into his ear.

“Jesus Christ, sir. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” said Jamie, his voice little more than a growl. “Move out.”

The three Operators stared at the chaos unfolding before them. Half the crowd were still focused on the house, screaming abuse through the windows and hammering on the door. The others had turned to face the new arrivals, their faces twisted with anger; there was a fleeting moment of stillness before they rushed forward, bellowing and swinging their fists and bats. Jamie shouted for his squad mates to spread out and push them back, but they were swallowed up by the rioting crowd before they had a chance to move. They were instantly separated as punches and blows rained down on them, and Jamie felt a flicker of fear in his stomach as he leapt backwards into the air, trying to regroup.

Never seen anything like this before, he thought. Never seen so much anger.

Qiang was driven back against the van, shielding himself from attacks with his arms, kicking out as the crowd surged against him. He rolled to his right, trying to create separation, and was pursued out into the middle of the road by a dozen of the feral men and women. In front of the house, Ellison had managed to get clear and was backing away across the lawn, her Glock pointing at the crowd; it flicked from side to side as she retreated from the baying mob. Jamie watched, hoping against hope that she didn’t pull the trigger; if they shot one of the crowd, he suspected they would have to shoot many more to get out of the cul-de-sac alive.

Jamie bared his teeth behind his visor, and hurled himself into the men and women who had followed him away from the kerb, scattering them like bowling pins. They scrambled to their feet as he backed away again, straining his ears for the sounds of sirens; their presence had clearly inflamed the situation, and unless the police arrived soon he was increasingly sure this was going to end with someone dead.

There.