“It happened like she said,” said the vampire. “You can ask anyone.”

Pete turned to the queuing vampires; the entire line was staring at him, their faces full of suspicion. “Anybody got a different version of events?” he asked.

The vampires growled and hissed, and shook their heads.

“Right then,” he said. “Jen, take this man to the front of the queue and give him enough blood to heal his hand.”

“Come on,” she said, and smiled at the vampire. “Let’s get you sorted out.”

The vampire nodded, the fire in his eyes fading. “Thank you,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to cause trouble. I’m just hungry.”

“It’s all right,” said Pete. “Go with Jen, she’ll look after you.”

He watched her lead the vampire away, then faced the security guard, trying his hardest to control the anger threatening to explode inside him.

“Come with me,” he said. “I want a word with you.”

Pete strode down towards the end of the queue, dozens of vampire eyes watching him as he passed, and round to the rear of the building. He turned back in time to see the security guard stroll round the corner, as casually as if he was walking home from the pub.

“Was that necessary?” asked Pete, as the man came to a halt in front of him. “Do you think setting a man’s hand on fire was a reasonable response to the situation?”

The guard shrugged. “He grabbed your girl.”

“And then he let her go,” said Pete. “Did she ask for your help? Did she scream?”

The guard spat on the ground, and shook his head.

“What would you have done if the whole queue had turned on you?” said Pete.

“I can handle myself,” said the guard.

“Against fifty hungry vamps?”

“If I had to. Yeah.”

Pete stared at the man. Belligerence and arrogance were radiating from him in waves, but his bravado did not feel fake; he seemed to genuinely believe he could take fifty vampires single-handed if it came to it.

“I don’t recognise you,” said Pete, eventually. “What’s your name?”

“Baker,” said the man. “Phil Baker.”

“Are you from Dave Calley’s agency?”

“Nope,” said Baker. “A geezer called Greg Browning hired me direct. Said your usual lot were overbooked.”

“Military man, right?”

Baker smiled. “Royal Marines,” he said. “Eight years.”

Pete nodded; the man’s bearing screamed uniform. “OK,” he said. “I want you to call it a night. We’re almost done and I think you staying is going to do more harm than good.”

Baker shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

“All right then,” said Pete. “Safe journey home.”

He walked into the community centre without a backward glance. His head was still pounding with anger, but he was proud of himself for not letting his temper get the better of him; simply removing the arrogant dickhead of a security guard as quickly as possible was the best solution, and further confrontation would have served no useful purpose.

Pete stood behind the tables and watched his volunteers serve the final bottles of blood to the remainder of the queue; they were working quickly and efficiently, and the last of the vampires was now inside the building, lined up against the wall by the front door. He did a quick count.

Thirty-nine more vamps. Fifteen minutes, give or take.

Satisfied that everything was back under control, Pete took his phone out of his pocket, scrolled down his contacts list until he reached Dave Calley’s number, and pressed CALL. After barely two rings, the phone was answered.

“Pete?”

“Evening, Dave,” he said, walking back out into the alleyway.

“Evening,” said Calley. “What’s going on? Everything OK?”

“Mostly,” he said. “Had a little bit of trouble at tonight’s drive. Nothing serious, but something came up that I wanted to ask you about.”

“Shoot.”

“Have you spoken to Greg this week? I talked to somebody who said you couldn’t staff this one because you were fully booked.”

“Let me check. Where are you?” asked Calley.

“Peterborough,” he said. “All Saints Community Centre.”

“Hang on.”

Pete waited patiently. Dave Calley ran a security agency in Lincoln that one of the earliest SSL volunteers had recommended, and he had never regretted the decision to take him on; Calley’s staff were uniformly large, shaven-headed and monosyllabic, but every one of them was certified and insured and, as Pete had seen for himself on several occasions, capable of staying calm in the face of appalling provocation.

Not like that guy I sent home, he thought. Baker. Not a bit like him.

“Still there, Pete?” asked Calley.

“I’m here, Dave.”

“I’ve got my lads booked in for you in Boston on Friday, and in Nottingham and Grimsby on Saturday, but nothing for tonight, and nothing in Peterborough till next month.”

“All right,” said Pete. “And you haven’t talked to Greg?”

“Not about this.”

“Could someone else have told him you were booked out tonight?”

“They could have,” said Calley. “But if someone did, let me know so I can stick a rocket up their arse, because I know for a fact I’ve got four lads twiddling their thumbs at home.”

Pete grinned. “Will do, Dave. I’ll see you soon, all right?”

“Sure thing,” said Calley. “See you later.”

Pete ended the call. He scrolled straight down to Greg’s name and dialled the number.

“Pete?” asked Greg, before his phone had even rung once. “Everything all right at the drive?”

“Everything’s fine,” he said. “We’re nearly done. Had a bit of a security issue, though. A guy I didn’t recognise caused a bit of trouble in the queue.”

“Shit,” said Greg. “That’s what I get for trusting people. I’m sorry, mate. Dave Calley’s boys were all booked up, so I got a name from a friend of mine. He said they were good people. Did you get rid of him?”

“I sent him home,” said Pete. “Phil Baker, his name was. It really wasn’t a big deal, but I wouldn’t use him again if I were you. He was a bit gung-ho for this kind of work.”

“I won’t,” said Greg. “Cheers for taking care of it.”

“No worries,” said Pete. “So you talked to Dave?”

“I talked to him yesterday.”

“In person?”

“On the phone,” said Greg. “Why?”

“No reason,” said Pete. “I’ll see you in the morning, all right?”

“See you then, mate. Get some sleep.”

“Cheers.”

Pete slipped the phone back into his pocket. He turned towards the community centre and saw Jen standing in the doorway, looking at him with narrowed eyes.

“Everything cool?” she asked.

“Fine,” said Pete, although he wasn’t at all convinced that it was.

What’s going on, Greg? he thought. Why are you lying to me?

Jamie sat in the back of his squad’s van, still wondering whether he should have simply told his mother what she wanted to hear. But that would have meant lying to her, again, and at this particular moment in time he would rather she was angry with him than placated by dishonesty.

“Everything all right, sir?” asked Ellison.

He nodded. “Fine,” he said. “Sorry. I was miles away for a minute there.”

“We noticed,” said Ellison, and flashed a quick smile. “Thinking about the new SOP?”

He wasn’t, but it was much easier just to nod his head.

“The new order is strange,” said Qiang. “Although I understand it. We are ratcatchers now.”

Ellison frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“In laboratories, they use rats,” said Qiang. “For testing. There are no vampire rats, so they must use vampires. We have been ordered to catch them.”

“You think this is about Lazarus?” said Ellison.

“Don’t you?” asked Qiang.

“I do,” said Jamie, pleased that somebody else had reached the same conclusion as him. “I think you’re exactly right, Qiang.”

“Hang on,” said Ellison, her frown deepening. “Am I missing something here? I thought this was a PR exercise?”