LITMIR.BIZ

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she was worried that it might reappear at any moment, then stepped quickly out into the corridor. She walked up to Jamie and planted a kiss on his cheek. He blushed again.

      They led her through the cellblock, past the guard station, and out into the base. A lift took them up to the hangar, and Frankenstein asked her where they were going.

      “I don’t know,” she said, smiling.

      Frankenstein stopped.

      “What do you mean, you don’t know?” he asked.

      “I mean I don’t know. You’re going to tell me.”

      The monster rolled his eyes. Jamie caught the look, and frowned at him. Frankenstein, shrugged.

      This is your deal, he seemed to be saying. I’ll keep my mouth shut. For now.

      “Mr Morris,” Larissa continued. “How high does your access to the Blacklight mainframe go?”

      “I’m Security Officer,” he replied, with a hint of smugness. “I have access to everything.”

      “And aren’t you just terribly pleased with yourself?” she asked. “Very well. I need you to search the word Valhalla, if you please?”

      Morris pulled a small console from his pocket, tapped a series of keys, and waited for the search to run. There was a beep, and the screen lit up.

      “Nothing,” he said.

      “Where did you look?”

      “I searched the entire network,” Morris replied, defensively. “There’s no mention of that word.”

      “Did you include the personal servers?”

      “No. Why would I have?”

      “I don’t know, maybe because then I wouldn’t have had to tell you how to do your job in front of your friends?”

      Morris muttered under his breath, and ran a new search. When the console beeped a second time, a list of documents filled the screen.

      “I don’t understand,” he said, softly.

      “What is it?” asked Frankenstein.

      “There are dozens of documents here, all relating to a place called Valhalla. Coordinates, reports, short and long histories. But they’re not on the Department network.”

      “Where are they?”

      Morris looked at the monster.

      “They’re on Admiral Seward’s private server,” he replied.

      “Oh dear,” sighed Larissa. “Maybe there are one or two things Mr Security Officer doesn’t know about after all?”

      “Shut up!” yelled Morris, his face contorting with anger. “Just shut your mouth!”

      Jamie placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, and Morris turned on him, colour high in his cheeks.

      “Tom,” he said, gently. “You said there are coordinates. Where would they take us?”

      Morris frowned, and looked back down at his console.

      “Western Scotland,” he said, eventually. “North of Fort William. The middle of bloody nowhere.”

      Larissa smiled.

      “That’s the place,” she said.

      Frankenstein led them through the hangar. Several Operators looked curiously at Larissa, but the presence of a Blacklight Colonel and Captain escorting her appeared to satisfy them. Frankenstein spoke to the Duty Officer, requisitioned a pilot and a helicopter, and within five minutes they were making their way out of the hangar and towards one of the helipads, where a squat black chopper was waiting, its engine idling. As they stepped through the door, Frankenstein spoke to Larissa in a friendly voice.

      “The detonator has a fifteen-mile range, so don’t even think about taking off. You’re not that fast.”

      “I wouldn’t dream of it,” replied Larissa. “Not when I’m having so much fun.”

      Chapter 30

      VALHALLA

      The Blacklight helicopter flew north, carrying its four passengers across the border between England and Scotland. The pilot kept the chopper low and away from built-up areas, the green-black landscape of the Scottish countryside rolling quickly away beneath them. They flew northwest towards Fort William, then turned true north and headed into the wilderness. At Loch Duich they joined the river Shiel, and followed it north along the glen that bore its name. At the northern end of the valley, the chopper slowed, hovered, then touched down with a thump, shaking the passengers in their seats.

      Frankenstein unfastened his safety belt. “Let’s get this over with,” he said, gruffly.

      The door of the helicopter slid open, and Frankenstein stepped down on to thick grass. Morris followed, and Jamie and Larissa brought up the rear. As he gripped the door rail the vampire girl’s hand closed over his, momentarily, and he felt heat surge through him. Then he was down, and making his way over to where Frankenstein was standing waiting for him. Larissa followed behind, her eyes firmly locked on the detonator in Morris’s hand.

      They were standing in front of what appeared to be a small village; a loose arrangement of wooden buildings that ran from the bank of the river to the rising slope of the woods at the rear of the plain. A wooden wheel had been set into the clear rushing water of the Shiel and a small generator sat humming next to it; a thick bundle of wires ran across the grass and disappeared into the village. Jamie noticed with bemusement that heather had been twisted into the wires at irregular intervals, like a kind of decorative camouflage. In front of them, a metal arch had been sunk into the grass and wound with vines and flowers. A single word had been placed at the top of the arch, the letters crafted from blonde twigs tied together with green cord.

      “Valhalla,” read Jamie. He looked at Larissa. “What is this place?”

      The vampire smiled at him.

      “This is where we’ll find answers,” she replied.

      “Let’s get on with it then,” said Frankenstein, and walked towards the sculpted arch. Larissa strode quickly after him, with Jamie and Morris following slightly behind.

      They walked under the arch and on to what passed for Valhalla’s main street. Wooden houses, two and three deep, ran along both sides of a rutted dirt track, the grass long since worn away by feet, hooves and tyres. There were at least thirty homes, ranging from simple wooden cubes to more lavish dwellings, with raised porches and tiled roofs. The road sloped gently upwards, flanked by carefully tended flowerbeds, wild shrubs and strings of multicoloured light bulbs, towards an open circular area. From this clearing, the track diverged left and right, forming a T shape; more buildings were set into the lower levels of the hillside, amongst tangles of gorse and wild flurries of heather.

      Standing at the back of the clearing, facing down the road, was a wooden house. The largest building in the village had a series of wooden steps leading up to a long porch, on which sat two benches, from where the occupants would be able to look out across Valhalla to the river and across to the rising eastern slope of the glen.

      “Why don’t we know about this place?” wondered Morris aloud, as they made their way up the track.

      “Admiral Seward seemed to know about it,” replied Jamie. “I wonder who else did?”

      As they walked, the doors of several of the houses opened and people stepped out to watch them as they passed. Jamie saw instantly that they were vampires: they stood easily in the doorways of their homes, a feeling of calm, almost of welcome, exuding from them. There were men and women, young and old, vampires of every race and colour. Some were dressed in worn clothing, T-shirts and jeans that had born the brunt of years of outdoor work. Others were dressed in suits and ties, or shirts and trousers. One vampire, a greying

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