The thought was proved correct a moment later when Leonard Whyte, CBE’s face appeared in the visor.“Nice to see you face-to-face again, Contessa.�...� He said from speakers on the sides of the helmet. “Well, not really face-to-face, but you understand.”Helen exploded into hysterical laughter. Whyte’s face on the monitor indicated that he was waiting for her to finish.“Yes, I do!” Helen got out between gasps for air. “After ... all this shit ... My ‘arch-foe,’ ... my fucking ‘nemesis’ ... in this. It was because he wasn’t there. Actually, that was wrong, he had been there, standing at the back whilst also… also lying in the coffin. He’d been a guest at his own funeral. The irony was totally lost on him. With realisation came anguish. Torturous pain tore through his head, emanating from his mouth: his canines were growing, pushing towards his bottom lip. He realised… He remembered. His Wife – his Wife and his Foster Brother had done this. That parchment that she’d thrown into the grave. More

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