The Dracula Caper

Начало книги

Janos Volkov was curled up, shivering, on one of the benches in Whitechapel Station. waiting for the change. Ile always knew when it was about to conic: he always dreaded it. There was no cure short of death and he could no more kill himself than he could disregard the programmed imperatives locked within the cybernetic implant in his brain.

The East London Railway platforms were deserted at this late hour in this far from the best of neighborhoods. The platform was built around an open cutting. between strong retaining walls of cool, damp stone. The roof was high. to allow for the dispersion of the fumes given off by the steam engines. Covered gaps at the top allowed the steam to escape. Giant cast-iron ribs supported the roof and large stone archways spanning the tracks served to brace the walls. The underground was still relatively new. not quite twenty years old. but like most of the soot- blackened city, the stations and the tunnels had already taken on the appearance of great age, resembling catacombs with tracks running through them.

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