Hellboy: Unnatural Selection(59)

"What's his name?" Hellboy asked.

"Jim Sugg."

"Hey, I know Jim! I met him back in '84 when they had that trouble over in London."

"What was that?" Liz asked.

"They televised a supposedly dramatized haunting, turned out it was real. Double bluff. Nobody believed a word of it, of course."

"Triple bluff?"

"Er ... "

"Hellboy," Tom said, "I want you and Liz to get straight to the embassy. They're already trying to set up a meeting with the British minister of defense. This is very sensitive. I don't want you just barging into London, not with everything that's going on around the world. The Brits are a bit jumpy right now, and it's no surprise. They're the only European country where nothing untoward has happened so far."

Hellboy looked from his window at the spread of housing, factories, shopping malls, road arteries, occasional clumps of green where planners had suddenly remembered what had been here before people. "I guess that's about to change," he said. His breath misted the window and obscured the scene, but it quickly cleared again, begging him to look.

"Tom," Liz said, "any news of Abe or Abby?"

"I called Abe and told him everything we know," Tom said. "And ... " He broke off, but the connection was still open, crackling with potential.

"And what?" Hellboy asked.

"And he checked out the dead werewolf. Guys, Abe is certain that Abby is one of Blake's creations. He won't say why he thinks this is true, but — "

"I trust him with my life," Hellboy said. "If he says it's so, it's so."

"It's an added confusion," Tom said, "but it makes it even more important for Abe to find her. She's BPRD. We can't have her slaughtering a movie theater full of people come the full moon."

"Not to mention she's confused and hurting right now," Liz said.

Tom did not reply.

"We're about to land," Hellboy said. "Speak to you later, Tom."

"Best of luck," Tom said. "And Hellboy ... Liz ... "

"Yeah, we know, Tom," Liz said. "We'll do our best."

The satellite phone hissed off, Liz grabbed Hellboy's hand, and a few minutes later the Lear screeched down onto the tarmac at Heathrow Airport.



* * *



The jet taxied along a runway to a private arrivals building. Hellboy and Liz had time to freshen up before they came to a stop, the jets winding down and the aircraft structure creaking and clicking as it accustomed itself to solid ground again. The pilot came through from the cabin and glanced nervously at Hellboy.

"Customs will be along in a few minutes to escort you to the terminal," he said. "From there you'll be taken to the main Terminal Four in an airport bus, where the two guys from the embassy will be waiting for you."

"Thanks for a comfortable flight," Hellboy said.

"No problem." The pilot nodded at Hellboy and Liz, then disappeared quickly back into the cockpit.

"Feels like we've landed somewhere hot," Liz said. She had changed her blouse and trousers and tied up her hair, as if expecting summer.

"I know how you feel," Hellboy said. Seen from the window, the expanse of concrete seemed depressingly barren and empty. He wondered how much of this world would have changed by the next time he and Liz had cause to fly somewhere.

A few minutes later a small cart trundled across the concrete and parked beside the jet. The driver regarded the aircraft with the bored stare of someone Long used to celebrity and politician arrivals. Hellboy looked forward to exiting the plane and relieving the monotony of this guy's day.

He was glad to feel solid ground underfoot once more. He and Liz sat on the back of the cart while the suddenly nervous driver guided them left and right between buildings, parked aircraft, piles of luggage containers, and storage compounds.

"Ever want to get lost somewhere, come to an airport," Hellboy said.

"I'll remember that." Liz had an unlit cigarette in her mouth, ready to light it as soon as they entered the arrivals building.

At customs they were greeted with suspicion. Hellboy couldn't blame them, he supposed, but it still rankled when they asked him to empty his backpack. They checked through his clothes and toiletries, then the blank-faced customs guy nodded at his belt.