‘Thanks very much – I am indebted to you,’ said Count Alucard as he heaved his coffin back onto the trolley. ‘Have a nice day!’ called Hilton Hargreaves as the Count moved off, trundling the trolley towards the airport lounge. Seconds later, after the Count had been swallowed up in the waiting throng, the Customs officer started to have second thoughts. A sixth sense began to tell him that there had been something slightly dodgy about the black-cloaked traveller, if only he could put his finger on it… The Customs officer tugged at the lobe of his left ear – a sign that he was thinking hard – and pondered over the several minutes he had spent questioning the man. ‘What was his name again?’ Hargreaves asked himself. ‘Something beginning with “A”,… Allanby…? Atkinson…? Abercrombie…? No.’ And then, all at once, it came to him. ‘Alucard!’ Yes, that was it! ‘Count Alucard!’ All at once, the Customs officer felt the short hairs on the back of his neck bristle against the inside of his uniform shirt-collar. He sucked in his breath and then let it out again in a long, low whistle. The awful truth had struck him, hard. ‘ALUCARD’ was ‘DRACULA’ backwards! And suddenly everything seemed to fall into place! Everything from why the man had carried his belongings in a coffin down to why he went around in a frilly white shirt, a black bow tie, a posh black suit and a crimson-lined black cloak. And – yes! – now that he came to think of it, the man had two pointy vampire teeth, one on either side of his mouth! As if all of that was not proof