Princes of the Undead

Part 2

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Agatha met Mycroft in the National Portrait Gallery. It had always been a favourite haunt for her friend who joked he enjoyed being surrounded by faces older than he was...made him feel almost young at heart. As usual he could be found seated in view of the grand portrait of Cardinal Richelieu, a childhood hero Mycroft had once confided, and if Agatha thought it a strange choice, well she wisely kept that to herself.

"So, what do we know?" Agatha asked as she slipped into the seat beside him.

"And good evening to you as well Agatha." Mycroft replied, not once breaking his gaze on the majestic portrait.

"My apologies I thought you would appreciate getting straight down to business..."

"Yes, but there is still room for manners." Mycroft tutted, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a touchscreen phone, which he handed her. "Your usual passcode."

"Oh, thank you." Agatha took Mycroft's chiding to heart, it was not the first time she had been accused of being a little too gung-ho.

"Mycroft why on earth would I be interested in tinder? Isn't that a human dating app?"

"Shush...honestly call yourself an undercover operative." Mycroft tutted.

Yet fortunately the only people nearby to hear Agatha, were wearing those awful headsets you could rent at museums these days and walking around in a factual stupor. Mycroft was all for educating the masses, but rote learning was such a gauche way to achieve that.

"Your 'friend' has been using that app like a food delivery service." Mycroft explained with a sneer, and Agatha wasn't certain just which element offended him, that Dracula would use something so central to the worst of mortal culture, or that he actual thought such food was worth snacking on.

"You are such a snob."

"Ahhh no, I am a connoisseur."

"Dracula would claim the same."

"Well then he has chosen a ridiculous way of showing it." Mycroft huffed, tugging at his cufflinks. "We set up several fake profiles, men and women in his local area, there was a little competition back in the office as to who could secure his attention first."

"You've been catfishing Dracula?" Agatha couldn't restrain the snort of laughter at the thought of Mycroft and his office cronies exchanging salacious instant messages with Count Dracula. "What's wrong didn't he pick yours?"

"No, he did, along with several others, we all exchanged messages." Mycroft sniffed. "However, it seems your friend has the most bizarre taste. In the end Sally managed to secure a meet up with him tonight...it's a London nightclub, exclusive...your name needs to be on the door."

"Are you disappointed?" Agatha earning her a side glare from Mycroft, who was clearly not in the mood, clearly the rejection of his fake persona had been taken as a personal slight.

"So, what's the plan we wait for him to arrive or wait for him to leave..."

"The plan is for you to go and buy yourself a new dress, then you have a hairdresser's appointment at six." Mycroft cut in, turning to face Agatha when she stared at him dumbfounded. "I did tell you, this is not a snatch and grab job, you are going at the request of the council to issue an invitation to meet."

"And they need me to look pretty?" Agatha hissed, her eyes narrowing at was clearly some sexist bullshit.

"No but you do need to get access to that club and there is a strict dress code. You will need heels as well."