“How’s business been? The new contract working out?”

“It is, yeah.” Garvey nodded. “Been expanding a bit, even. Don’t want to go into debt for it, but I think now’s not a bad time to buy with a bunch of lads going out.”

“Seems sound.”

“Yeah, I hope so.” Garvey tapped his finger on his knee. “I just wanted you to know… Tom told me to back off on looking into things for you.”

“I’m glad,” Murphy said. “These could be dangerous individuals.”

“I know. But… this recent thing, I thought you should know.” Garvey looked stricken. “Jesus, any decent person would be bothered by it, but especially anyone with a family, yeah?”

He frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re—”

Murphy broke off when the door opened and Tom walked in.

“Evenin’, boss. Andrew. Did you tell him anything yet?”

Garvey shook his head. “Was just about to, but—”

“Good. He needs to see.” Tom threw a set of photographs onto the coffee table in front of Murphy. “I am rarely tempted to murder, Murphy, but this shit…”

Murphy picked up the photographs and paged through them, wondering what had left his usually calm lieutenant so angry. “What are these?”

He could see the obvious. Young women ranging from early teens to twenties, with hollow cheeks and dead eyes, huddled in what looked like cargo holds. The thing that jumped out at him immediately was their looks.

They were obviously sick, but if you could see past it, all the girls were very attractive. In fact, the cynical thought that leapt to his mind was that the photographs resembled a macabre fashion shoot, only the models were barely clothed in rags.

“Human trafficking?” he asked. There was no way to avoid all of it, but he did his best to eliminate what he could. “Have they been reported to the human authorities?”

“Don’t think we want to do that just yet,” Tom said. “It’s more than that, Murphy.”

He folded his hands carefully. “Tell me.”

Tom nodded toward Garvey, who started to speak.

“We didn’t see the girls. It was the boys on deck that jumped out to some of my lads,” Garvey said. “Raised their suspicions right away. They weren’t sailors. Didn’t look like pros at all. Then one of my lads caught one trying to sneak ashore from a reefer. Cold ship from the Black Sea carrying caviar, of all things. It’s an EU country, but the boy trying to sneak ashore had nothing. No papers. Only spoke a little English, and he was desperate to leave. He weren’t a regular sailor, Murphy.”

Tom nodded. “Once Garvey reported the incident to me, some of the lads and me searched the ship. Thank fuck I took mostly human staff. We found the girls in the hold. More young men up on deck working. I think they used the boys for cheap labor and hid the girls.”

Something Tom said jumped out at him. “Why were you glad you took humans?”

Tom pulled out a handkerchief-sized piece of cloth from his pocket and tossed it to Murphy.

He caught it and put it to his nose, almost retching from the sickly-sweet smell of pomegranate.

“That’s a piece from one of the boy’s shirts.”

Elixir.

Murphy said, “Andrew, I’d like you to go now. I need to discuss things with Tom, but I want to thank you for your vigilance. You really must step away though.”

“But, Murphy—”

“I insist.” Murphy took the human’s hand and squeezed. “You’ll mind your own business in the harbor, Andrew Garvey. Report anything unusual, but leave the detecting work to others.”

Garvey blinked, as if just waking. “Course I will, Mr. Murphy.”

“Good man.”

Garvey was still frowning and confused when Tom ushered him out. Murphy flipped through the pictures again, looking at the young humans with new eyes.

There were dozens of them.

“Are they all infected?” he asked.

Tom sat in the chair Garvey had vacated. “As far as we can tell, yes.”

“Damn.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Damn damn damn.”

There was a research base set up in California working on a cure for Elixir, but it hadn’t found success. Some of the infected humans they’d treated so far were improving, but none were cured. Whoever had infected these young people had sentenced them to a slow and painful death and sent them to Murphy’s city to be unleashed in the vampire population there.

“How many boats?” he wondered aloud.

“There’s no way of knowing.”

“I need you to get the word out to Mary Hamilton immediately. Belfast needs to be aware we’re not just looking for cargo anymore. We’re looking for carriers. Call Terry too.”

“Already done.”

“What have you done with them?” He put down the photos when he came to one of a girl no older than thirteen. “Fecking hell, Tom. What do we do with them? How many are there?”

“Twenty-seven girls and fifteen boys. All from eastern Europe. Right now, I put Angie on getting one of the new warehouses outfitted as a dormitory. We’ve got doctors checking up on them—ones we trust—but some of them said these kids have weeks or months at most. We’re trying to find interpreters. Some of the kids speak a bit of English, so they’re helping those that don’t.”