Free Evil Dark by Justin Gustainis Page B

a lot better than a human's.
      Karl got up on his toes for a better look. "Pennsylvania plates PLV 198," he said.
      "Good, thanks." I reached for my car keys. "Get in."
      Inside the car, Karl looked at me again. "You've got something cookin', don't you?"
      "Despite what I told Nikolai, you know there's no way we're waiting a couple of days to follow up on a possible lead. Not for this case."
      "Yeah, that's what I figured."
      "And I wanna brace this Mister Milo when he's not expecting us, try to catch him off balance. I want every edge we can get."
      "But he'll know we're coming sometime," Karl said. "You already told his pet ghoul."
      "Yeah, but he doesn't know it yet."
      I reached for the police radio.
      "Dispatch, this is Markowski."
      "Read you loud and clear, Sergeant," the female voice said crisply.
      "Is there a patrol unit anywhere near the 700 block of Taylor Avenue?"
      "Wait one."
      She was back within ten seconds. "Roger that, Sergeant. A black-and-white is three blocks away, on Prescott. Do you want them directed to your location?"
      "Negative, but patch me through to their unit, will you?"
      "Roger. Wait one."
      It wasn't long before I was listening to a male voice saying, "This is Four Baker Nine. Over."
      "Is that you, Bradshaw? It's Markowski."
      "Yeah, it's me, Stan. What do you got?"
      "A dark green Olds heading north on Taylor from downtown, Pennsylvania license PLV 198. You have reason to believe that the driver is wanted for questioning."
      "Is he? Wanted for questioning, I mean."
      "Better you should be able to say you never knew the answer to that," I said. "But if you frisk the driver, who's a ghoul calls himself Nikolai, you'll probably find an illegal weapon, which will allow you to bring him in."
      "What kind of weapon? Is he packing?"
      "Just a switchblade, far as I know."
      "OK, Stan. But you owe Meyer and me a cold beer."
      "I'll buy you two apiece," I said. "Thanks."
      As I put the radio back in its bracket, Karl said, "So, Nikolai isn't going to be reporting to his boss anytime soon."
      "That's the idea." I started the engine.
      "He might've done it already, by phone."
      "Could be." I was watching the traffic, waiting for a gap to pull into. "But if this Mister Milo is a big enough player to have a ghoul as an errand boy, he might be too paranoid to talk business on the phone. A lot of them are, you know."
      Karl fastened his seat belt. "So, I guess I don't need to ask where we're heading now."
      "Not unless you've started eating Stupid Flakes for breakfast."
      "I don't eat breakfast anymore, Stan. Strictly speaking."
      "Just an expression." I pulled away from the curb, made an illegal U-turn, and headed for the Radisson hotel.
     
    The Radisson is in what used to be the old Lackawanna train station. They've kept the basic architecture of the building, but spent a lot of money on the interior to make it the best hotel in town. All modern conveniences at the Radisson.
      The fifth floor is known as "Floor V" – which means it's specially designed to accommodate guests of the undead persuasion. Each of the rooms has two layers of blackout curtains, and when you click on Do Not Disturb from inside, it triple-locks the door. Room service has a special "Midnight Menu" that's heavy on Type A and Type O, either whole blood or plasma. If you prefer your nourishment directly from the source, the hotel has certain employees who will pay a discreet visit to your room, and depart a pint or two lighter – in return for a very good tip. It's interesting that selling your body's still illegal, but taking money for your blood isn't.
      Mister Milo was on Four, which meant that whatever else he was, he wasn't a vamp.
      I gave the door to 431 the three hard raps that most cops use, although I don't know why. I guess it's supposed to send a message to those inside that somebody in the hall wants your