Temporary Monsters

10

Some parts of the lakeshore are nice. This was one of the other parts. 

Dominated entirely by warehouses, this area of the city was currently experiencing an urban renewal, with some of the properties being converted into high-rent lofts, while the rest were left to rust and decay. It was the kind of development I could get behind. Much better than all the condos they were putting up, or the historic brownstones that were being torn down and replaced with garish modernstrosities. 

I trailed Donovan at a discreet distance, and when I saw him pull up in front of a dark building, I turned down a side street and cut the engine. I closed the car door gently, then approached the corner and peered around it. Donovan’s silver Mercedes sat gleaming in the dark. It was so quiet I could hear the engine ticking. There was no sign of Donovan. 

I approached slowly, staying in the shadows. That wasn’t difficult; it was all shadows down here. Between two of the warehouses I could see the lights of McLeary Park, where I used to play baseball as a kid. A few years back, the public works department wanted to plow it under and put up a recycling transfer station. Public outcry had put a stop to that, but I had a feeling that what was going on inside Donovan’s lakeshore digs was much worse. 

I reached the front door. Faint yellow stencilled letters identified it as 818 Commissioners Street. I debated going around back, the way they always do in the movies, but it wasn’t my style. Donovan was here, and I had a feeling he was alone.  I had given him the forward approach at his club. I didn’t see any reason to deviate now.  

The door was locked. I took out my Swiss Army knife – a friend of mine in the RCMP had modified it to include picks and pressure wrenches and other handy gadgets – and played with the lock until I got it open. I slipped inside and closed the door quietly behind me. 

The inside of the warehouse was almost completely empty. I made out a few dark shapes at the far side of the cavernous room and made my way over to them. 

I stood before two strange machines that looked vaguely like old-fashioned printing presses. A conveyor belt extended out of the back of each one, ending at a pair of large industrial bins, like the kind used to cart trash or laundry.

The bins were filled with square cardboard sheets. I reached in and picked one up. Each sheet had ten black tablets encased in blister packs. They were further divided into two rows of five, with perforations between each for the distribution of single doses. Etched on the tiny tablets was the word VAMP. I picked up a sheet from the other bin. These were brown and had the word – or rather the prefix – WERE stamped on them. 

Beyond the bins, standing against the back wall, were a pair of tall metallic contraptions that looked like heavily-armoured phone booths. One was painted black, the other brown. A heavy steel door was set in the middle of each, both of them secured with oversized locking bolts. Masses of wires and rubber tubes connected the chambers to a bank of complicated, expensive-looking electronic equipment in the corner. 

“I’m so glad you could come, Felix.” 

I turned around, expecting to see Donovan pointing a gun at me. The fact that he wasn’t bothered me more. He was bouncy and radiant, like a kid showing off his roomful of toys to a new friend. 

“We’re completely alone here. I wanted us to have a private chat. There’s a little matter we need to clear up.”

“Nice setup,” I said.

“It’s just a little experiment, really.” 

“Is that what you call it? Four people are dead.”

Donovan shrugged.

“You gave it to them, didn’t you? This... drug, or whatever it is. You gave it to Jimmy Logan and Eve Sutter.”