"Freeze!"
Shades in place, leather jacket zipped up, hair styled with cool gel-- Klaus could get into this cop mode. The gun pointed at the mirror was a .357 Magnum; after he took out Knight, he'd have a real policeman's gun, but everything else was perfect. Lip curling just a little bit, he snarled, "Metro Homicide! Put down the weapon!" Pausing, he frowned consideringly, then punched the "play" button on the nearby tape- recorder.
"Freeze! Metro Homicide! Put down your weapon!" barked Detective Knight on the tape. Klaus snapped his fingers, mumbling "your weapon, *your* weapon" then went through the motions again. Nodding in satisfaction, he threw the sunglasses down on the hotel room bureau as he reached for the ringing cellular phone.
"Von Helsing. What do you have to report?"
"Mr. Lucard just left the 96th. They're on their way back to the hotel."
"Good. Stay with them. Keep me informed of Lucard's movements." Disconnecting, Klaus smiled at his reflection, pointing the gun at the mirror one last time. "Nicholas Knight, you are about to be eliminated." Blowing imaginary smoke off the weapon's barrel, he chuckled, then punched in a new number on the cellular. "Detective Knight, please," he requested, making his voice old and shaky, with the trace of an Austrian accent.
"Knight here," said his double upon answering the phone. Klaus punched another button on the tape recorder, and started fabricating.
"I believe you are the person to talk to about the shooting at the television station this afternoon, involving Jerry Tate - and Alexander Lucard?"
"Yes, that's right." How eager he sounded! A man after Klaus's own heart. "Do you have some information for us?"
"You understand, I'm uneasy about coming forward." Klaus made faces at himself in the mirror, first threatening, then reassuring, segueing from anger to contempt to disbelief-- every expression he'd had a chance to observe on the homicide detective. Pity the range was so limited. "I want to meet you at a safe place."
"Where?"
"King's Cross Cemetery. Near the old Vandeville crypt? As soon as possible? I realize how melodramatic this must sound, but I'll feel safer once I know the police have the evidence I've gathered."
"Of course. Mr...?"
"Von Helsing. Gustav von Helsing."
A pause, and then, in a slightly higher voice, "Von Helsing?"
"Yes. Is there a problem?"
"No, no. No problem. It just reminded me of... someone I'd heard of. I'll meet you at King's Cross in an hour. Thank you for coming forward, Mr. von Helsing."
"Thank you, Detective Knight. I feel much more reassured, now that I've spoken with you. Good-bye." Klaus hung up the phone, howling with laughter as lay down on the bed and kicked his heels. Sighing and hiccuping a little as he calmed down, he muttered, "I kill myself." He punched in another number off-handedly, then added aloud, "Almost literally, sometimes."
"Gustav von Helsing here," answered a suspicious voice on the other end.
"Mr. von Helsing. This is Detective Nick Knight. I'm afraid what I have to tell you will be shocking. Incredible, even. But I'm hoping you'll take me seriously." All traces of amusement were gone now, and he'd assumed the calm, authoritative voice of Nick Knight without a hitch. This was going to be a piece of cake. Nobody would suspect.
"What is this about, Detective? Which part of the police force are you with?"
Klaus grimaced, cursing silently. Should've remembered to say that part first. Oh, well. "Toronto Metro Homicide. We have reason to believe your son is involved in a string of murders on the south side of town. They're very - disturbing."
"Oh, no. Oh, Klaus, what have you done now?" the old man breathed. Klaus stuck out his tongue at the receiver. Moralistic old fool. Always trying to ruin his fun, make him mortal again. Well, that would work to his advantage this time.
"Sir, I'm calling you because I believe you can deal with your son as no one else can." The vampire paused for dramatic emphasis, then said, "Your son is -- not normal. If you could convince him to turn himself in, I believe we could reduce the sentence. If not... I should tell you that we're going to arrest him within an hour at King's Cross Cemetery. We think he's hiding there, in the Vandeville crypt."
"Thank you, Detective Knight. I promise my son shall be... dealt with..." The man on the other end of the phone paused, "by me. Incidentally, how did you get this number?"
Klaus's eyes widened, then he raised his eyebrows as he lied. "Police privilege. Reverse directory. Interpol tip-off. It's hush-hush, you know." Actually, it was one of the million things he kept track of as a matter of course, so as to better avoid his obsessed parent. The last thing he needed was to be re-mortalized without any notice.
"Oh, of course," responded the elder von Helsing abstractedly. "Thank you again, Detective Knight." He hung up, while his estranged son smiled beatifically and laid back on the bed, content.
Klaus giggled suddenly, unable to stop himself. Perfect. He paused, considering his course of action. Yes, he'd definitely have to watch the proceedings. From a discreet distance, of course. No sense letting Knight know he was around.
Just in case events needed a little... push.
Nick squinted around the entrance of the old Vandeville crypt, replaying the telephone conversation in his mind. Had von Helsing said *near* the crypt, or *in* the crypt? There didn't appear to be anyone around, and he could almost make out something inside the mausoleum. It was bad enough that he was meeting a known vampire hunter about Lucard's involvement in the Tate case; now said hunter had failed to show up, and Nick was getting uneasy. Cemeteries were never his favorite places anyway.
He checked his watch again, frowning. Well, one quick check inside, and then he was gone, informant or no informant.
Like many a young, bikini-clad bimbo in a horror film, Nick obviously wasn't listening to the background music. If he had been, he would have heard it build, and build, and practically scream "No, Nick, no! Don't go in the crypt!"
What he *did* hear was the clank! of the gate behind him as Gustav von Helsing shut the door, having emerged from his hiding place above the crypt. "I'm doing this for your own good, Klaus," the old man said sorrowfully. Nick whirled to see a sad-eyed old man locking the iron bars, and placing a large crucifix on the door. "The police will believe you couldn't lock yourself in here, so they'll stop looking for their murder suspect... and this way, you'll be safe until I can find a cure."
"What??" Nick whooooooshed over to the door and tried to open it, getting an electrical shock when he tried. "OW! What did you do to this? Let me out of here, von Helsing!"
"No. Not until I find a cure. The door is charged from the force of the cross. Only one who is truly pure of heart can remove it."
Nick smiled, trying to calm down and make the man see reason. "Look, actually, I want to be cured. That's fine. Just let me out of here. And why do you keep calling me Klaus?"
"What should I call you? Dracula? Alexander Lucard?" Von Helsing shook his head ruefully. "Do you really think I'd believe your repentant act, my son? You've tried that ruse before." He patted the bars. "No, once I put this stone door back in place, you'll be safe in here until I find the cure. I promise, Klaus."
"No, WAIT--" Thud. Nick stared at the stone wall on the other side of the bars. "My name isn't Klaus!!" He tried to grab the gate again, got another shock for his pains, and backed away from the door, shaking his hands to get rid of the pins-and-needles feeling, his lips a thin line of anger.
Who the hell was this Klaus guy, anyway?
"Nice going, Dad," Klaus commented. "Very nice." He watched his father hail a taxi and drive away. If the elder von Helsing had any brains-- and he did, despite his obsessive-compulsive behavior-- he'd be on a plane to Vienna within the hour. And no one in the city would be left to know that there were two Nick Knights running around. Or, well, not anymore. He giggled, approaching the aqua Cadillac that Knight had driven to the cemetery. Too bad he hadn't gotten Knight's gun, but he'd make do with his Magnum.
Hmmm. Now, if he were Knight, where would he keep his extra set of keys?