Page 37 of No Man's Land

Into his silence, Alex said, “I destroyed the photograph when I exposed your film later that night, but…” He cocked his head. “Sykes followed you to London, which means you have another photograph.”

Josef laughed darkly. “You’d better believe I do.”

“Then you must destroy it.” Alex leaned forward across the table, jostling his whisky in his urgency. “No, give it to me. I’ll destroy—”

“Give it to you?” Josef said. “And why’s that?”

“I just told you why. A ghoul tracked you in Poperinge, and it tracked you to London. It’s drawn to the photograph. And you’re in danger while you have it.”

“Sykes isdead,” Josef snapped. “What danger can he pose now?”

Alex looked grim. “Yes, Sykes is at peace now, but he’s not the only one. The ghoul...” He considered his words, brow drawn into a frown. “They’re not separate creatures, like humans. They’re... connected. We call it an infection, but it’s more like a spiderweb of consciousness. If a body fails, it’s discarded, andthe infection moves to another, but the ‘mind’, if you can call it that—”

“Bloodyhell!” Josef fisted a hand in his hair. “This is bollocks, Alex. I don’t know why I’m even listening to it.”

“Perhaps because you know the truth when you hear it.”

Josef barked a hard laugh and didn’t reply.

“Or perhaps because there’s no other explanation for what you’ve seen. As the great man said,When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

“Who said that? William the bloody Conqueror?”

“Sherlock Holmes.”

“Don’t tell me you think he’s real an’ all.”

“No.” Alex studied him. “I know it’s difficult to believe. I was fifteen when I was told and… well, it made for a memorable birthday.”

Josef studied him in return, his noble features and intelligent eyes. “The thing is,” he said slowly, “you don’t look like a looney.”

“I’m not.”

“But what you’re saying…” He shrugged. “Look, maybe you’re not a liar. Maybe you believe it—maybe youneedto believe it. But me? I’m a factual man. I don’t put much stock in spooks. I don’t even believe in God. I believe what I can see with my own two eyes, and through the lens of my camera.”

“And what did you see in Poperinge?” Alex said, looking as calm and reasonable as a man trying to convince a sceptic that the sky was blue. “Or in the sewer last night? Or on the mortuary slab this morning? Was none of that real enough for you?”

Josef was having none of it. He knew Alex was an accomplished liar; first, he’d been Captain Winchester of the RAMC, then Lord Beaumont of the War Office, and now this. And of course, he’d taken Josef in completely that night in Pops.What he couldn’t understand was why Alex was trying to sell this load of old bollocks, but either way it was time to put an end to it.

“You and I,” he said, “we’ve seen horrors, haven’t we? Real horrors, I mean. We’ve seen hell, Alex. Wemetin hell. And all of it was created by men. Ordinary men. Bakers and bus drivers, fathers and sons. Good men, too, killing for King or Kaiser. So, I don’t need your ghost stories to explain what I saw last night, because I know the most dangerous, malicious, evil creatures on this earth are men. And that’s explanation enough for me.” He pushed to his feet, looking down on Alex. “Fair warning, I will get answers to this. You haven’t scared me off.”

Alex’s generous mouth compressed into a grim line. “I wasn’t trying to scare you—but, Christ, can’t you see you’re in danger?”

“A threat?” Amused, Josef raised his eyebrows.

“A warning, for God’s sake!” A couple of heads turned in their direction, and Alex lowered his voice. “Listen to me. Drop this. I’m not acting alone, and others will be less forgiving—the ghoul aren’t the only danger you face. Do you understand? That photograph makes you a target. There’s a great deal at stake here.”

“That, I can believe.”

Clearly frustrated, Alex reached into the breast pocket and withdrew his card, offering it to Josef. When he made no move to take it, Alex set the card on the table between them. “If you refuse to believe me, or to heed my warning, then there’s nothing else I can do for you. But…” He stood and collected his coat and hat from the empty chair next to him. “Should anything untoward happen, you’ll be able to reach me here.”

After a hesitation, Josef reached down and drew the card toward him with one finger. In gold lettering on a cream background, it said The Winconian Society, and, beneath it, an address in Belgravia. Of course.

He glanced up and found Alex watching him with an expression caught halfway between frustration and…something else. Something heated. Or perhaps it was simply a different sort of frustration. Nevertheless, Josef’s blood rose in response, as helpless as the tide responding to the moon.

He fought the swell of desire back down. For God’s sake, Alex was either a lunatic or a liar, and there was no chance of them reprising their night in Poperinge. There hadneverbeen any chance of that because it would be a dreadful mistake.

Deliberately, he pushed the card back across the table. “Keep it,” he said. “I can look after myself.”

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