ictor Renquist finds himself at the mercy of the U.S. government as Mick Farren's Underland begins, with the 1,000-year-old nosferatu being abducted by operatives of an intelligence agency that focuses on the paranormal. Run by Herbert Walker Grael, a deranged civil servant with dreams of immortality, the kidnapping at first seems to be a simple attempt on Grael's part to extend his own lifespan. But inter-departmental politics and a looming crisis have mandated Renquist's recruitment into another scheme instead—a dangerous recon mission.
After forcing his captors to negotiate with him in a relatively civilized fashion, the vampire learns that America has been conducting cautious trade with a cave-dwelling nation founded by remnants of Hitler's Nazi regime. Now the Underlanders—as they are called—are acting cagey and hostile. Two exploration teams sent to discover the reason for their truculence have vanished. Grael's hope is that Victor, with his centuries of experience, telepathic abilities and well-tested gift for survival, can find answers where the other teams have failed—and get the data back to Washington.
This is hardly the first time Renquist has been asked to join a government operation. With captivity and death a likely outcome if he refuses, the vampire heads for Underland. He takes with him two experienced intelligence operatives and his own trusted nosferatu lieutenant. The quartet makes for a formidable team, but whether Underland will give up its secrets—and how deadly the unbalanced Nazi-inspired regime might prove to be—remains to be seen.
A vampiric anti-romance
Underland is the latest in a series of Farren novels that challenge the romantic sensibilities that underlie many contemporary vampire tales. Renquist possesses some standard features of long-lived vampire protagonists, especially urbane wisdom, wide education and a weary distaste for a crass and inferior humanity. His primary likable attribute is a tendency to keep his word, if only because he has learned it is wise to do so. Unlike many vampire heroes, though, Farren's nosferatu are not sexy, sympathetic or sensitive. They are icy-blooded monsters, pragmatic and remorseless. Not surprisingly, then, the tone of Underland is unremittingly dark, the more so because Renquist is surrounded by the sociopaths and megalomaniacs of the intelligence community. The result is a book that will go down well with SF-friendly fans of the most ruthless sort of spy thriller.
In a cast of characters who play it cool, the one source of heat is Thyme Bridewell, a plaything of Grael's who is pressed into service as a source of food for Renquist. Thyme is as dysfunctional as the other people in the novel, but she is deeply passionate and morbidly humorous. Her energy provides occasional strokes of color on what is otherwise a bleak narrative canvas, but her full potential as a character remains unexplored, at least in this installment of Renquist's story. By and large she remains a pawn in a game played by powerful men: a meal and a sex object, she is too unstable to be taken seriously.
Unfortunately, Thyme is also the only character who takes anything approaching decisive action throughout this novel. Renquist's role is merely reactive—he deals with his abduction, and then becomes little more than a game piece himself, fulfilling the agendas of other characters without ever
forming one of his own.
