'What happened to Dracula?' Blake asked.

Russo frowned. 'Dracula? What is this?'

'Never mind.' Two men were lounging by the fire. Rossi and Cameci; he'd seen their faces on the computer, more Solazzo family hoods.

Falcone pushed Blake forward. 'Hey, I'm with you. Christopher Lee was the best. I loved those Hammer movies.'

Russo opened another black oak door. Inside was a room with a high ceiling, another log fire on a stone hearth, candlelight and shadows, and behind a large desk shrouded in darkness, a shadowy figure.

'Bring Mr Johnson in, Aldo. By the fire. He must be cold.'

Falcone took Blake to the fire and pulled a chair forward. 'Sit.'

The man in the shadows said, 'Brandy, I think. A large one would seem to be in order.'

Blake sat there while Russo went to a side table and poured brandy from a decanter and brought it to him. It burned all the way down and Blake coughed.

'Now give him a cigarette, Aldo. Like all of us, Mr Johnson is trying to stop, but life is short, art long, and experiment perilous. There's Latin for that, but I forget how it goes.'

'Oh, didn't they teach you that at Harvard Law School?'

Blake took the cigarette and light from Falcone.

'Asa matter of fact, no. But clever of you. You obviously know who I am.'

'Hell, why carry on like this? Of course I know who you are. Jack Fox, pride of the Solazzo family. So why don't you turn up the light?'

A moment passed, and it did go up and Fox sat there; the dark hair, the devil's wedge of a face, the mocking smile. He took a cigarette from a silver case and lit it.