Cathcart the Intrepid part 13 by John Linney

The wolf man gripped me in his gaze. Was this Dalglish or even Cobain. My money was on the former given the beast had a reddish glow to his fur.  I could tell that his menu may at some point include me, a fact which caused me to react instinctively. I drew a revolver from the breast pocket of my coat. I pointed the weapon at the werewolf. It bared its massive teeth glinting in the candle light of the booth. I leaped to my feet whilst discharging my weapon. The beast slumped over the table instantly returning to the human form of Dalglish in the process. My employers had thankfully equipped me silver bullets ( to cover every eventuality?). Cobain at that point, rushed out of the shadows towards the slumped,still, body .
‘Lee Ho seize that man instantly. We must not let him leave the club!’ he yelled.
The servant moved briskly towards me but stopped short as I pointed the gun in his direction.
I began to back away from the assembled onlookers moving my gun across the highly receptive congregation. I had rarely retained this many peoples attention before.
I moved towards the club entrance covering any slight movement forwards. I noticed there were two gas lamps lighting the corridor. I put my hand on the doorknob, opened it behind me and fired at the wall lamps as I stepped out into the cold night. The club was plunged into darkness as I slammed the door, turned and ran into the docks. The night was cold in that sharp almost painful manner. I felt the warmth of adrenalin coursing through my veins enabling me to flee rapidly. I ran and ran towards the direction of the warehouse. Templeton would be able to help me surely? As I rounded the corner of the warehouse building, I noticed two figures stepping out of the doorway.
What looked like Templeton was remonstrating furiously with a thicker set, older man.
‘He could be dead by now for all we know. We sent him to confront supernatural creatures on the premise that he was helping his country. You of all people, should hang your head in shame’ he said.
The older man still with his back to me, faced Templeton.
‘My brother Arthur has always wanted his bloody hopeless sons to make a go of their lives. I knew nowt good would come of our Cathcart. He’s a soft, woolly headed lumucks and frankly Arthur and Constance would be more proud of a dead hero than a living liability’ Uncle Harold boomed into Templeton’s face from close range.
What in Gods name was he doing here?
I ran towards the two men, Harold turning quickly as I approached.
‘Cathcart lad, we were worried about you. Have you cracked the case down at the club?’ he said hurriedly
I grasped him firmly by the forearms and shoved him against the warehouse door. He appeared alarmed by my forthright handling.
‘Soft and Woolly Uncle? is that your character assessment? This was a set up wasn’t it? well WASN’T IT!’
I heard running footsteps behind me and then………………

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