Suddenly, a car screeched to a halt just outside the Red Herring Church. Inspector Someone-Who-Is-Not-David-Bowie and 'Professor' Ford leapt out of the vehicle, both with guns drawn.

'Freeze!' shouted the Inspector. Fay looked up. She didn't know these people, she didn't care. All she was suddenly aware of was that she was kneeling next to four dead bodies and the cops were closing in. Oh, and she had herself killed a cop earlier. Admittedly it was self-defence, but she didn't think that would hold up in court along with her testimony about the Vampire who murdered her parents. As the Vampire himself had pointed out, 'it's not as if vampires actually exist'. All this ran though Fay's mind in an instant. The policeman aimed his Beretta at her. She wasn't going to just let him do this. She had not chased her quarry for twenty years to be dragged down by the law just after achieving her victory. Fay leapt up, hands in the air.

'I know this looks very, very bad, but I can explain-' she said. Inspector Someone-Who-Is-Not-David-Bowie advanced, gun raised. Ford followed him. Fay saw his finger tighten, as if in a moment of anger at something he had thought, and acted. She dived for her dropped P99. The Inspector fired as she moved, peppering her with stones kicked up by the shot. Fay grabbed the gun, only to have it blown out of her hands by Ford. Fay turned her dive into a roll and slammed into the gatepost, using it for cover. The Inspector and Ford retreated behind their car, and continued suppressive fire to keep Fay hunkered down. Ford shouted as she did so.

'Why?! Why did you do it?'

Fay curled closer to the gatepost.

'This is going to sound crazy, but he was a vampire-alien.'

Ford laughed, half-maniacally.

'Not Geoff, you moron. Van! You killed Van!'

'He tried to kill me' retorted Fay. Ford didn't bother answering, she just let her bullets do the talking. Fay shoved a hand down her top, and wrenched it out a moment later clutching a USP Compact. She leaned round the side of the gatepost and returned fire. Fay's first burst was accurate. She forced both the Inspector and Ford to duck behind the cover of their car. The Inspector turned to Ford, breathless.

'Damn she's good. Too good.'

'Better than Van?' The Inspector looked round at Ford. Tears shone brightly on her face.

'Never' he said. 'And we're going to show her that nobody gets away with shooting our best man. Nobody.' The Inspector took Ford's hand in his. 'Look, I'm not the best at this, so I'll be the stool pigeon here. After all, I'm wearing a bulletproof jacket under this.' Ford looked shocked.

'You're not suggesting-'

'Four rounds Jenny. She's got four rounds.'

'But you-' . But whatever Ford was going to say was lost as the Inspector stood up and unleashed the rest of his Beretta magazine at Fay. She cowered back into the pillar, and the Inspector vaulted over the front of the police cruiser, reloading as he went. Ford followed him to his position behind the bonnet of the car. The Inspector hit the ground at the side of the car with a fully-loaded pistol again. He got off four rounds, but Fay was ready. She fired, once to blast the gun from the Inspector's hands and again to smash him in the rubs. Inspector Someone-Who-Is-Not-David-Bowie was hurled back against the car front. He twitched, tying to crawl forwards to reach his gun. Fay leaned out to hit him, firing twice more. The first bullet clipped his leg, eliciting another groan. The fourth hit him full in the head. His police car was painted in a gristly coat, the last action the Inspector would undertake for the Force had faithfully served for twenty-five years. Ford leapt up. For the second time that afternoon she saw a pillar of her life collapse, gunned down by this woman. She didn't scream this time. Instead, Ford levelled her Glock and fired five rounds off. One caught two of the Fay's fingers, smashing them. Fay dropped the gun in pain, clutching her injured hand. Ford calmly walked round the car towards her. Fay snatched up the pistol in her other hand and levelled it at the approaching policewoman. Ford didn't even break her stride.

'Four bullets, bitch' said Jenny Ford. Fay pulled the trigger once. The gun made the same dry click that Van's had almost half an hour earlier. Then Ford fired again. The bullet caught Fay's left hand, still mostly undamaged, and broke it. Fay dropped the gun and rolled onto the floor. She scrabbled with her ruined hands for the gun again. Ford stepped on them. Fay screamed for the first time. It was a breathy scream, right down from the lungs. Ford twisted her heel, and Fay's scream cut off into a sobbing cough. Ford levelled her Glock at Fay's head. 'I hope you burn' she said. Fay half-smiled, even through the pain.

'Six bullets, bitch'. Ford stepped backwards, ad in that moment Fay rolled away. Ford squeezed the trigger, in the hope Fay could have miscounted, was just bluffing, but her count was true. The Glock clicked empty too. Ford dropped it on the ground, breathing more heavily now. She was an officer worker, an aide for God's sake, not some sort of action-hero detective. She was facing the woman who killed Van, who killed Geoff, who killed Someone-Who-Is-Not-David-Bowie. What the fuck was she going to do. Then she looked up, and saw not some sort of flame-haired monster with obscene gun skills and hand to hand combat to match, but instead a woman with two broken hands, suffering from blood loss, shock and exhaustion, who also didn't have a gun. Ford pulled her sweater a little tighter around her.

'Bring it, Fay Løren' she said, pronouncing it the way Van had done, and putting as much hatred into it as she could muster. Fay bared her teeth. It had come to this. Two women in a churchyard, surrounded by the recently dead and the buried. The wind whipped around them, blowing their hair about. This was where the story ended. There was a brief pause, as Ford gathered her thoughts and Fay summoned her dwindling energy for one last push. Then the two came together. Fay lashed a long leg out, knocking Ford off balance. She stumbled to the floor, but pulled Fay down with her. Ford took the impact on her side, but Fay shoved both arms out from instinct, prepared to spring back up to her feet and take her opponent down as she got slowly up. She had forgotten, or perhaps simply didn't thin ,about her fingers. The broken exposed bones and flesh hit the stony ground and crumpled. Fay's arms gave way at the sudden upsurge of pain, and she hit the ground full force with her face. Fay saw Ford struggling up, and tired again herself, but her fingers refused to react. She tried another roll, but her legs gave out before she could get any momentum. The last four or five hours of energy had taken their toll. Ford climbed to her feet. She coughed once, then slowly advanced towards Fay. Ford pushed Fay's head into the ground with her foot, then hooked one arm and rolled her prostrate foe over onto her back. Ford stepped back onto her left leg. 'This is for the Inspector' she said, stamping down hard on Fay's face. Fay groaned as Ford ground her heel into Fay's face. Ford drew back her shoe for another stomp. 'Ad this is for Van Helsinki' she said, the tears running freely. She plunged her foot down again. Fay, fighting though the pain, thrust both arms up. Had only one set of fingers been broken, she could have taken the impact mostly on the other hand. But with both shattered, her action caused her huge pain. Nevertheless, she did manage to flip Ford, laying her on the ground. Fay sank back onto the flat ground. She didn't have the strength to do any more. Ford, lying next to her, sucked in a great mouthful of air to restore her battered lungs. She slowly climbed back to her feet again. Staying back from Fay, she walked back to the car, slowly. Fay watched her, unable to do more than turn her head. Ford opened the door, and took a cloth-wrapped package out of her side. She walked back to Fay, slowly unwrapping it. 'This is Van's gun. His personal weapon. His 1911'. Ford remembered him waving the thing about while drunk, with her worried it would go off and hit someone. Or he'd be thrown out of the bar. Or arrested. 'I took it from his…his body. I believe he last drew it on you. I'm here to finish his job'. Fay, lying on the floor, spat out a mouthful of blood.

'It's jammed, bitch. Or broken. I heard it go when they dropped him. Man and Jim. It broke. You won't shoot me with that piece of metal now'. Ford smiled, a slightly crazed smile. A Van smile.

'Oh, I'm not going to shoot you with it. Just kill you. Say hello to Colty, motherfucker'. Ford brought the weapon down on Fay's face. Again, and again, and again, until there was nothing left but bone and blood. Then more, until the pistol fell from her nerveless fingers. Ford stood up, clutching a bruised rib. She staggered over to her Glock, and picked it up, followed by Van's 1911. Ford walked over the car, slowly, clutching her chest and limping slightly. The rain was still falling. She coughed, opened the car door again, threw her bloody weapons onto the car seat, and tried to wipe the worst of Fay's blood of on her blouse. Ford then took out the passenger phone. 'It's all over. I got him. Nobody else made it'. Her tone was flat, emotionless. The Operator at the other end nodded.

'Now what?'

'After this I'm going for a drink.' Ford hung up. Then she reached into the back seat, took Van's crumpled hat from where it rested on the plush seat liner, and got into the car. Ford leaned out and shut the door. She shoved the hat onto her head as she started the engine. A viewer observing might have seen the look of hooded distrust in her eyes, and recognised it for what it was. The Creepy Man certainly did. He watched as Ford drove off from the scene, saw the police arrive a half-hour later or so, and saw the resulting investigation.

Jenny Ford always refused to talk about the events of that day. She was given special leave as a result of injuries sustained in the line of duty and the deaths of close colleagues. Two months later, she disappeared. No official reasons were filed, and no body was ever discovered. Her family still believe her to be alive to this very day. The Geoff Case, as the whole affair was dubbed, remains one of the great unexplained mysteries in the police force's histories.