HOME"The Hollowers."
Written and Directed by:
Anthony Hummerston.
STARRING:
Dag,
Li,
Fran,
Martin,
Nana
[and]
Secial guest star: Ivan.
And not-so-special guest stars:
Frank and
Ash as their pack-mates.
PART ONE:
THE HOLLOW BOOK
“So when are you going to do me?”
Dag stares at Li. “Do?”
Li tries again, changing emphasis. “I think I have the respect. The renown…. When are you gonna do me?”
Martin sniggers into his fur-trimmed coat. “I think Li means perform the right of recognition.”
Dag sighs, “I already recognise him. – His name’s….Um….What’s your name again?”
The time draws near. Dag has seldom performed the rite and is a bit rusty. “I want to do it right….Do the right rite….Not here on the left, but on the….”
Li looks at him, a confused look on his face. Dag coughs awkwardly, “Um… Give me a few days….To….Um….Prepare!”
“Prepare?”
“For the party of course.”
Fran isn’t so sure. “I’m not sure we should have a party….Only I’ve been looking into things….The Sept isn’t doing so well on the financial front….”
“How so?”
“Well I’ve only just scratched the surface…..” Li’s ears prick up, Fran ignores him. “You see with the expansion into the re-enactment, the faux archaeological dig, the hangers on the wages of the full-time staff, the takings from the visitors, the outreach, and everything…. We’re haemorrhaging money like there’s no tomorrow.”
Martin can’t belive it. “Pfft! I live on the street. I don’t cost the Sept a penny. I do alright.”
“From bin-diving and selling the big issue….” Dag says.
Martin is offended, “I NEVER sell the Big Issue!”
“Maybe you should start. We need to bring in some cash.”
Martin reiterates. “I don’t cost the Sept a penny. I don’t see why I should contribute.”
“How did you get here?” Fran asks.
“You gave me a lift.”
“And who pays for the diesel?”
“Um….”
Fran asks another question. “Who paid for that bacon sandwich?”
“Bookmark sandwich….” Li says, rather wistfully.
Martin thinks. “I got it from the chuck wagon.”
“Who paid for it?”
“Nobody. They give it out for free.”
“Now there’s an image I like!” Dag interrupts.
Fran ignores him. “Where did you sleep last night, Martin?”
“In the dorm. Its too cold to sleep outside.”
“And what heats the dorm? Gas? Paid for by whom?”
Martin concedes. “Okay I see your point.”
Fran taps at her tablet. “Every time we throw a party, we blow several thousands in drink and food and entertainment.”
“Only ‘coz you won’t strip naked and dance on the table!” Fran ignores Dag.
“What about the visitors?” Marin asks.
“Some of them are student drop-outs from the sixties. –I don’t want them dancing naked. -Thanks all the same.”
“I dunno, that Mary Beard is kinda hot.”
Nana comes over. “Eww! Ikky! Ikky Ikky!”
“She’s even got a beard….”
Nana covers her ears. “Nana! Not listening any more!”
“Anyways,” Dag reminds them, “She’s a classicist, not an archaeologist.”
Fran continues. “ Anyway, numbers are way down. – Paying visitors that is. There are more and more students living-in –not paying their way. Some have been here since the dawn of time. –Failed archaeology students, professors of anthropology….There’s a sizable body of academics all taking from the coffers.”
Dag is wistful again. “ Mmmmm Student bodies….”
“What else is there?”
Fran lists some other big expenses. “Outreach….Travelling to other Septs, keeping the spirit of the wolf alive….Wages for those that are employed here…. Travelling expenses, fuel costs, heating, electricity, utilities, food, entertainment, phone bills…..”
“What? Phone bills?” Martin protests.
“Not everyone finds old mobiles in the bins and runs the last few seconds of credit off them….Most of the homids have smart-phones these days, the glasswalkers have several….And tablets and dataplans and everything. They subscribe to magazines, they download movies….”
Martin’s eyebrows shoot up. Fran glares at him. “Not that kind of movie…. They download movies from Netflix or whatever and watch them. –Legally – and pay for it.”
“Pfft!” Martin scoffs, “Amateurs!”
“Maybe the Sept leaders should give up their smart-phones, travel by public transport, and stop jetting off to far away places.” Dag suggests.
“Well, you’re the pack leader, you tell ‘em!”
“Okay, I might just do that!” He stands still.
“Not going, Dag?” Martin enquires, biting into a piece of (free) fruit. “Or are you waiting to grow a pair?”
The werewolf cairn at Saint Celene's, rural Oxfordshire.
By the time Dag returns and extracts the flea in his ear, Fran has gone over the accounts. “Bad news. I knew it was bad, and that we were running a deficit, but it has been going on for years…. We –the Sept – owe a lot of money…. They’re hardly making enough to service the interest let alone pay off the debt….”
“We could get a payday loan….” Martin suggests.
“We’re in the red to the tune of nearly two million.”
Dag lets out a low whistle. Li starts getting excited.
“Say that again?”
Fran goes over the numbers again. “I reckon that within a few months this whole place will be owing creditors about two million.”
“Maybe we should sell something.” Martin suggests, looking around at their assets. “We have nothing worth that much. – Maybe a hundred grand’s worth of buildings….But out main asset is the land itself.”
“Simple! We move the cairn to some less expensive area, set up shop, fire the freeloaders and our problems are solved.”
“Thing is, the cairn is in a low-gauntlet area. The barrier between the real and the spirit world is thinner here. It’s a matter of geography and history – nothing that man nor werewolf can easily influence….”
“It’s just a pile of old stones!” Dag says, rather flippantly.
“Go tell that to the elders. You won’t get a flea in your ear – more like a grand klaive!”
Over the next few days, Fran manages to get Twilight Hunter on her side. “We’re going to have to clear the dead wood, expel the hangers-on. Reduce costs, increase the entrance fees, stop the schools coming around for free, that sort of thing.” She tells the second-in-command. “Meanwhile, I’ll brainstorm with the others to get us out of this mess. I’ll also arrange for the debt to be consolidated into one creditor.”
“I didn’t know you were so talented.” Twilight Hunter tells her.
“I’m not. I have a good accountant I can arrange….Very reasonable rates….” She adds, with a smile.
During the next week, there are sombre scenes the freeloaders are ushered away. There are tears and frustrated rants, but the eviction of the hangers-on goes without too much of a scene.
“We need capital, fast.” Fran says, when the camp has cleared.
“But how? Make trinkets and sell them to tourists?” Li wonders.
“Every place in the country has a gift shop.” Dag says, “– Even Blenheim palace.”
“But we could bind spirits into things. –That’d give us the edge over the rest. –And sell on the internet.” Li suggests.
“Spirit bound pencil sharpener at premium price…. –How would ordinary people know the difference?”
“I’d know.” Li says, somewhat deflated, “I’d know….”
“We could rob a bank,” Martin offers. I know of a few.”
“A few bank doorways to sleep in, maybe.”
“Trouble is we steal from the rich and give to the poor. –We need to sell to the poor.”
“Time for research – We need to make money – look into who’s got some, who’s losing some. Local traders, local entrepreneurs, all that sort of thing”
“Local horse breeders?” Martin says.
“Why so?”
“Coz we could put ten grand on a 200-1 horse.”
“You may as well put it on a rocking horse.”
“Anyone got anything they can sell?” Fran asks. Martin turns out his pockets. A beer-bottle lid and last-week’s lottery ticket fall out. “Nope.”
“Anyone that has any assets?”
Dag jokes, “With your assets you could sell your body….”
Fran glowers at him. He backs down, “I meant your car….It must be worth a bit.”
“It is, but I need it!” Fran protests. A moment later she says, “I’ll call on my family connections, they might rustle up enough cash to stave off the bailiffs for another month….In the meantime, we need to find the crock of gold.”
Martin shoots a look at Dag, “What about Nazi gold?”
“Why did you look at Dag when you said that?”
“No reason. Other than he was a collaborator.”
“You want to take that back before Auriel makes a comment….Or indeed a hole through your guts?” Dag growls. Martin backs down. “Jus’ sayin’” he comments as a parting shot, out of sword range.
Dag and Li have been meditating for some time, they emerge from a tent and present Li to the elders. Dag lists Li’s accomplishments, his value to the Sept, and glowers at Martin and Frank, who are itching to put a spanner in the works. When the elders nod their assent, the party can begin.
Frank.
It is a sombre party. Despite a local deejay, and plenty of alcohol, the youngsters are more interested in their mobile phones, and free food – provided by Dag’s hunting – by way of the Duke of Marlborough’s prize deer herd.
The speeches come and go. Martin has downed copious amounts of White-lightning - he found a few old bottles in the archaeologist’s huts- and topped them off with Buckfast tonic wine. If he had been fully human he would be in a coma by now, instead, he’s just warming up. Fran has a spritzer – Despite catcalls and whistles from the younger generations. She looks sheepish and embarrassed. –So has a refill – watered down. Li is purportedly tee-total, and has a glass of water. He resists the temptation to pour it into a stainless steel bowl and lap away. Dag’s drinking partner, Frank is working tonight and can’t join in the festivities – though he’s also taken something to treasure from the archaeologist’s hut – another colony of cockroaches!
Ash sits beside a shed, ashen-faced, hastily getting wasted, and pondering the possibilities that he’s acutely overdosed on the alliteration.
The youths have their fill of venison, Martin makes a toast. “To the Churchills!”
“I thought you’d be opposed to aristocrats, landed gentry, hereditary peerages and the like.” Fran says.
“I am! But thanks to them, Dag can poach their deer from under their noses any time! God bless Blenheim palace park!”
The youths have a little sing-song. It goes like this: –
‘Happy recognition day to you!
Happy recognition day to you!
Happy recognition day, dear Li-i.
Happy recognition day to you!’
But then they go back to Candy Crush, Twitter and Facebook.
‘Totes boring. Worst party evaaaah!’ One posts to all his friends.
“They’re not real friends!” Fran fumes, “I’ll fix them!” She starts hacking into the local phone network. After a few minutes their internet connections drop. The youths look around, unable to communicate or socialise. Most slope off to bed.
In the morning there are only a few hangovers to nurse. Fran is up with the lark, and having fixed the entire internet, is doing some digging.
Dag joins her after a while. “You’re serious aren’t you?” He says.
“Never more so. If the site is repossessed, then we’re done for. Bye-bye- Sept. Bye-bye Garou, bye-bye kinfolk.”
“That’s why they call it the apocalypse, you know.”
“I know.” Fran agrees.
“Well I’m Arhoun. I’m not going without a fight.”
“Good. Glad to hear it.”
“Shame about the younger generation. All they do is text one another and surf the internet.”
Fran thinks. “The internet generation. Never leaving their bedrooms….They’ll die out within a generation too.”
“Yep, there never was an epoch-spanning civilisation based on the virtues of remaining a virgin!
“Better tell Frank that!”
“Actually, I hear he got himself a girlfriend….”
Nana starts again. “Nana! Ikky! Ikky! Ikky!”
Fran types away for a moment, but then turns the monitor toward Dag, nearly knocking over his coffee. “Look!”
“What is that a chastity belt?”
“No! It’s a…..” She struggles for words…. “A….Ummm…..” She reads off the screen, “Is a revolutionary personal interface for human computer interaction; a Brain Computer Interface (BCI) that uses electroencephalography (EEG) brain waves.”
“Easy for you to read. Why is it so important?”
“Coz this Chris Harris Enterprises is a splinter business from Pentagon labs – which is a subsidiary of Pentex.”
“Pentex the Wrym-tainted megacorp?”
“The very same.”
“Why are you interested in this, of all things?”
“Well, Harris its trying to get business backing for this project. He has some strong institutions behind him, but can’t get the device beyond peer review. –Something in his past – probably something to do with Pentex – is keeping investors away.”
“How would we fit in?”
“I don’t know. Some corporations have been pouring in money to this project. It’d be good to siphon off a few millions. -We’d have to do some more digging. – Unfortunately at the moment I’ve drawn a blank. Typical Pentex. One gets a hot lead but the other end is as cold as stone.”
“Did someone say lead?” Li asks, coming into the hut. “Oh….Computers. Not really my thing. I’m off for a walk.”
“Go with Martin when he wakes up. Get him to sniff around. See where the money is at the moment. – Keep it local though. We don’t want an international incident!”
Li goes to find Martin. Martin is asleep in a pile of refuse and old cans of Special Brew. A few hours later, Martin is on the train to London. He visits his old haunts and starts asking questions. He manages to get 74p, a copy of Metro, and a few kicks for his efforts. Every time he asks where the money is, he gets the standard reply. “Get away from me, you dirty benefit scrounger!”
Despite his best efforts, Martin too draws a blank. He goes to sleep in a shop doorway. In the morning, he returns to the pack, empty handed.
“What about all the money you were given?” Li asks.
“I spent it.”
“On soap?” Dag asks, hoping for a response.
“No. On a bookmark butty.” Martin replies. “How about you?”
“Well I got to thinking about Nazi gold….” Dag starts to say. Martin sniggers. Dag is not put off. “And I managed to think of a few angles. – The thing is that there are several treasure hunters looking for hidden hordes….But the chances of one being Garou are pretty slim.”
“So anything with a ‘werewolf’ flavour might be a clue.”
“True. The only one I found to date is a robbery. Let me find the details.”
Dag finds the page that he bookmarked. “Need some electronic bacon really….Here we go.”
He summarises from the translation in the original German. “Quick précis: Mystery robbery of stored artworks….Blah blah blah…. Stored in an old bond-store Mainz Germany. – So pretty secure- possessions and art, valuables and jewellery stolen on 17th August 1936. Valuables had been gathered…. To secure them from potential ‘confiscation by the state’ -I read that it means they were appropriated by the state pretending to be protecting them. – Mainly gathered from intellectuals, gentry, aristocrats and leading academics of the time - I read dissidents, Jews and intellectuals – in case of troubles ahead.
Dag pauses, skimming some of the mundane details. “Here…. The bonded store was robbed during the night of the 17th. No witnesses to date – Everything gone- Except an 8’ tall mirror – presumably too big for the fleet of trucks that would have been required. – Normal suspects named and shamed – Probably all long since deceased – Suspicion of a cover-up – No witnesses, no sight or sound of a fleet of trucks, no material evidence of any kind.
“Your point being?”
“Well, put it this way, If there was a bank vault with a mirrored wall, we could shift from the Umbra to the vault and steal the contents.”
“Presuming you could spirit bind everything in the vault.”
“There are probably rituals for that.”
“Not that I know of.”
“No. – But then – in the 1930s – people – Garou were more tied to the land and traditions and things – not glued to mobile phones and technology.”
Martin asks, “What are you saying? We’re all turning into Glasswalkers?”
“No – Just that things…. Were different then. Garou were stronger, more attuned to nature- more steeped in tradition.”
Dreams of looted gold!
Fran asks, “What do we do, travel to Mainz?”
“I don’t suppose there is much there now after nearly eighty years.” Dag says, “It got heavily bombed during the war – not much of anything survived.”
“Then the trail is cold.”
“Well not cold, but on the back burner.”
“Where did you get this article anyways?”
“Rhineland Main Presse – it has been going through its archives, and publishing to the web.”
“How long has this story been out?”
“Only a year or so.”
“Then we may yet be in for a windfall of Nazi loot?” Martin rubs his hands in glee.
“If you can find who stole it, where it went, who has it now, where it is now- who the rightful owners were, or are – and whether or not it is still in saleable condition. There were works of art, furniture, carvings, statues, paintings, books, jewellery and the like. – If it was smuggled out of the bonded store by Garou, -through the Umbra- who knows where it is now?”
“I’m smelling a whole lot of ‘if’ coming off this.”
They resume their silence. “Any other leads?”
Li isn’t done with the puzzle. “If they took the treasure to the Umbra, they’d have to act quickly. Physical objects tend to deteriorate quickly….Unless spirit-bound in some way.
Dag nods. “True. Remember Fran’s old car?”
“What the cute little horse and sturdy cart?”
Fran sniffs, “I loved that car….”
“You can love the horse now. -Though not in the way that Martin is thinking!”
Martin turns on Li. “Surely is it better to have loved a horse than to never have loved a foal.”
This is yet another riddle for Li to contend with.
THE HOLLOW MAN
“Anything else?” Dag asks,
“Only that a local businessman has been pouring millions into some new therapy for the mentally ill.” Fran says.
“How does that help?”
“Well this is the businessman we had a run-in with some years ago. Remember Daniel Timms?”
“The one with the arms business and the interesting sideline in murdering werewolves with silver glitter in their cars?”
“I think they were Black Spirals, to be honest.”
“Yeah. There was some bad blood with Timms and the Black Spirals. – Enemy of my friend and all that.”
“I’m not sure you have it the right way around- but, yeah.”
Martin goes a little glassy-eyed. “All I recall is that his female agents were all girls dressed as Goths.”
“They might have been actual Goths, Martin.”
Sir Daniel Timms.
“So fill us in on the details.”
“Okay….” Fran taps away at her phone. A moment later she reads an article to the others.
“Here we go,” She reads, “Doctors have made significant breakthrough at Rosebank house, Reading Berkshire. Working with some of the most challenging of patients, they have pioneered new treatments and therapies with outstanding success.
Called Black and White or alternatively yin-Yang theory, it is a revolutionary treatment process, which mentally ‘shocks’ patients out of their conditions. Aided by significant grants, they claim an eighty-five percent to ninety-five percent success rate at curing patients with a range of conditions. –And improvements in the behaviours among the remainder deemed previously untreatable.”
“No guesses to where Timms’ money is going. “-But why?”
“I dunno. Maybe he’s in love with one of the patents and wants them back to normal.
“If they’re tainted with the Wyrm, then it may be a big ask….”
“What else do we know about him.”
“He was once employed in Cheltenham as a researcher for Pentagon industries. –A suspected Pentex subsidiary.”
“But he left there sometime ago. I remember that much.”
“A big disagreement. There was a fire. Two employees died. Timms had a water-tight alibi – He was in France at the time.”
“So there’s where Pentex and the black spirals part company with the delightful mister Timms….”
“He set up a company in Oxfordshire. ‘DT Defence Systems’ -Making weapons for export. –Top security, licences all in order – the works. Though from the financial accounts, it looks like the defence business is on a decline. Their profits are down – indeed have been for three years now.”
“Well this leads to Reading. I wonder where the Rosebank institute is?”
“It’ll be on a street I know really well.” Martin says, “I know Reading like the back of may hand.”
“What? Like the scrapings from the sides of a bin?”
“We’re not all bin divers.” Martin protests.
“Where did you get that jacket?”
Martin looks at his feet. “Out of a skip.” He mumbles.
“See?”
They decide to drive to the outskirts of Reading: Via the back wall of Fran’s lockup garage- helpfully silvered and shiny. They pass through into the Umbra, and immediately the sat-nav goes a bit haywire. “Continue on this….This heading….For a….A long time….” It says, rather unhelpfully. Fran turns it off.
The Umbra is dim and foggy. “I’m not sure whether we’re actually on solid ground or not….” Fran apologises.
“We need a landmark or something.” Dag says, peering into the gloaming. “Something to steer by.”
“A pole star?”
“Or some physical feature….”
They head nominally south east for some way, when Dag has an idea. “How about the river?”
“I can’t drive on the river. This car is many things, but the fire spirit under the bonnet might object.”
“No not swimming. – Driving alongside. We once met the spirits of the river. Old Father Thames, and his daughter, Isis.”
“Were they friendly spirits?”
“Well, they managed to flood a dark-satanic mill last time around for us. I’d say they were benevolent.”
They offer a silent prayer to Isis. Sure enough after a few more miles, they find the river.
“Which way though?”
“Follow the flow.”
“Of course!”
They do so. After about half an hour, they can see the old Victorian streets of Umbral Reading.
“Eww….Creepy!” Nana says.
“Nonsense.” Martin scoffs. “I know the way!” The streets narrow and become confusing. When they pass a landmark the third time – approaching from different directions, they leave the car by it, and proceed on foot. Martin leads them. Some sixth sense directs him. – Or it may be one of the original five.
“I expect he can smell the bins of the institute!”
Umbral Reading map.
As they near, they see figures scurry into the houses. Spectral ghost mothers usher their wraith-like kids inside. “They must have heard Martin was on the prowl.”
“Should lock up their dustbins as well then!”
“Ikky! Ikky! Ikky!” Nana exclaims.
“This is the right street.” Martin tells them, sniffing.
As they walk along, they are aware of shapes just out of their vision. Dag uses the scope of his rifle to try and spot one. As soon as he does so, the others become aware of the shapes. They resolve themselves as bat-like creatures with grinning bone-white skulls. The creatures swoop and attack.
They fend off the creatures, though Fran loses a chunk of arm to their fangs. The creatures come on by for another pass. They swoop long and low, managing to knock Nana off her feet. As the girl topples, the other bat-like creatures descend upon her, scratching, clawing and biting. Dag shoots one, Martin swats another away and manages to get a third pinned down. Li leaps at another, and trades blows before driving it off. Martin threatens the captive creature. The other creatures back off to rooftops and chimney pots.
Grabbing the creature by the throat, Martin proceeds. The thing feels strange under his hands – strong but soft at the same time. “What are these things?”
“Agents of the Weaver no doubt.”
As they round the corner, they spy a proper Gothic mansion.
“Oooh there’s Arkham Asylum!” Nana says, recognising it.
“Just a figure of our imaginations….The Umbra takes your subconscious and shapes it sometimes.” Li tells her.
“Like bats….In the belfry….” Fran sighs, looking at the unfortunate creature still clamped in Martin’s fist.
“Who’s been reading too many Batman comics?” Dag asks.
Rosebank Institute. -Umbral side.
Rosebank Institute. -Real side.
Nana raises a hand. “I prefer Jigoku Shojo - Hell-Girl.”
“That’s a comforting thought!”
“Just don’t take anything she offers you!”
Martin sighs, “Okay. After I tie up this creature with this bit of red string….”
“Where did you get that?”
“A little girl gave me a doll. It had a loose thread…..”
Nana shakes here head in disbelief.
After some deliberation, they enter the asylum. “I wish there was a bus.” Dag says ruefully. “A free bus….”
There is no door. Since there is no door, there is no door frame. – Simply a frame. They discuss this at some length as they wander along several long and more modern-looking corridors. After a hundred yards or so, there is a crossroads. They go left. This is repeated after another hundred yards. They start to fear that they’ll get lost. Dag carves his emblem on the wall with his claws as a marker.
“Why does it look like a swastika?”
“Get of Fenris!”
Li shushes them. “Shh!”
“What’s up? You smell something?”
“Not smell….See!”
“What?”
Li points. “I wish you wouldn’t do it like a pointer!” Fran says.
Beneath their feet are paw prints. Large wolf-prints to be precise. “They start here….And proceed….” Li paces the corridor, “To here. –They fade out again.”
“What does that mean?”
“Dunno, but I get the feeling we’re being watched.”
“I’ve got a funny feeling too.” Nana says. “Like the presence of the Wyrm.”
Martin rubs his tummy. “Good. I’m hungry for a few worms.”
“Not worms….Wyrm. The evil one, the spirit of destruction and madness.”
“It’ll be right at home here.”
“Anything else you deduce?”
Li concentrates. “Only that it has a gammy paw….See the front left print is a bit smudged every step, and doesn’t come cleanly off the floor like the others.”
“So a limping wolf….”
They check out some of the rooms. Some are dormitories. All the beds are made and neat with hospital corners. One however is unmade and scruffy.
“Another allegory, maybe?”
“Dunno.” Li says.
“What? Can’t work it out?”
“No. I don’t know what an ‘allegory’ is!”
“Kinda thing or concept in one thing that represents another thing in another thing.”
“Thanks. –I think!”
“Like a rainstorm represents a bad mood. Or a Gothic mansion representing an asylum.” Nana says. Li scratches his head. “Okay! Got it!”
“What about this lighthouse?” Fran asks. “Or the train tunnel where no train runs?”
“I think that’s indicating the phase of the moon – or rather the sorry state of your love life!” Dag jokes.
They wander around for a while. They think they glimpse a big black wolf, but are not so sure.
“So stalking the corridors of the asylum is a big bad wolf….”
Dag sighs, “Sounds like a fairy story for the modern age!”
PART TWO:
THE HOLLOW PATIENT
They decide to go back into the real world. Martin spreads out a slightly soiled space blanket. After some time they emerge in the darkness of a room. The smell of bleach and ammonia is rather strong. After some fumbling in the dark (and a slap) they find a light switch and the fact that they are in a cleaner’s store-room. Martin almost goes insane at the sight of so much cleaning product. He shrugs reluctantly into a brown cleaner’s coat.
They emerge from the store. Next door is a locked door. Along the corridor, two nurses are talking. Fran gets the others to cover while she unlocks the door next door. It stubbornly refuses to budge. When the others see Fran’s anger starting to bubble to the surface, they drag her away. “Probably a drugs cupboard.” They tell her.
They assume the guise of visitors and wander around. The institute has offices at the front and is otherwise on two levels in a squared figure eight shape. They find a canteen, and have tea. They manage to find a room which corresponds to the one with the unmade bed in the Umbra. –It is empty. They ask where the occupant is. “Mister Jones is in therapy.” A porter tells them helpfully.
They find the therapy room. It is occupied. They lurk on the threshold, indeed on the doorstep, trying to blend in, and not make ‘glub-glub’ noises.
They lurk some more. The brass sign on the door says, “Doctor Finlay.” They can hear a woman’s voice talking. A man’s voice answers.
“I do believe we’re making a breakthrough mister Jones.”
“I don’t remember any more.”
“So what we have is a red church, a dragon train, water and singing in strange voices.”
“I think so. May I go now?”
“I’ll review the information. Anything else you want to discuss?”
“Not really. The food stinks.”
“That’s not down to me mister Jones.”
There is movement in the room. Our heroes try to blend in. Dag considers grabbing Fran for a long passionate kiss, but can also contemplate the battle scars afterward. Martin nearly blows the ruse by objecting to grabbing a mop and pretending to clean.
A porter trundles up the corridor with a wheelchair. A moment later, he helps Jones into it. The porter wheels Jones out. We can see that he’s been horribly burned, though age and time have mellowed the scarring somewhat. Fran peeks into the consulting room. She sees Doctor Finlay- a stern-looking Scottish doctor typing away at an e-mail.
“You know,” Li says philosophically, “This room should have a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door.”
The others look at him blankly. Li assumes an air of superiority, having been really subtle with his gag.
“I need to get into the computer.” Fran tells the others.
“What’s up, got severe agoraphobia? –You’re in the right place for it….”
Doctor Finlay comes out of her room. Fran shoots Martin a look. “Just keep brushing. If anyone comes this way, bang the brush on the door.”
“Work, work, work!” Martin grumbles.
“Yeah, like picking up your Giro every week isn’t work.”
“It isn’t a Giro- that was so nineteen-eighty-nine!”
With the doctor gone, Fran sneaks into the consulting room. She makes a gesture and starts to blend into the background. The consulting room is pretty plain with a desk and chairs and a couch. “I’ll have to keep Li off that….” She thinks, powering up the computer. She brute-forces the password and scans various files. She drops several of them to a USB stick, reads the last e-mail sent and prepares to leave. As she does so, she notices an inner room. This is similar to the first, though the couch is a patient’s bed, with restraining straps. There is also a strange-looking device in a flight case in a cupboard. The device fits over the head, and has various cables and probes. There are installation discs for capturing the data on a computer. Fran makes a backup. She downloads Jones’ medical records too.
By this time, Doctor Finlay is returning. Feeling that they have outstayed their welcome, Fran joins the others. – Several other people are milling around –it’s chucking-out time. They decide to leave with what they have, but to keep the institute under surveillance.
“Why is that?”
“Coz Finlay just e-mailed Timms that ‘the subject is ready for collection’ –I wonder what that means?”
“They can’t have extracted the information just a few minutes ago….Unless we’re being watched and therefore set-up….” Dag says.
“True….But are we going to wait for another twenty years for Jones to spill the beans on whatever it is he knows – or they think he knows.”
“What do we have so far?”
Fran gives a quick précis, “That he suffered severe mental trauma twenty-odd years ago. – Probably around the time he was crippled in the fire. – That he has information that Timms is prepared to spend millions in research getting.”
“The payoff must be big….” Martin muses.
“Well if it’s a warehouse full of stolen Nazi gold….Then yeah….Several tens of millions….”
“What were the clues again?” Li asks, resisting the urge to add, “Velma?”
Fran plays over the conversation in her mind. She recalls it perfectly. “Red church, a dragon train, water, singing in strange voices.”
“Probably Wales.” Martin jokes.
“Eh?”
“Red dragons! Duh!”
“Red church. Dragon train. –Pay attention Martin!”
They retire to the car. They leave Nana to watch the institute. At the car they meet with Ivan. – Or as Martin insists, ‘Yvonne.’
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m your pack- member- from Finland….Remember?”
“Nope.”
“The pack member who’s been with you since day one. Remember?” Ivan insists.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know you from Adam.”
“Or Dawn.”
“Dawn?”
“Dawn….As in Buffy’s little sister. She didn’t have a sister….Until one day out of the blue she does. –Only the viewers didn’t remember Dawn either….Not then….Afterward, when she got all teenager-y and curvy….Then they forgot that they hadn’t remembered and the ratings went up.”
“Ah….Yes….” Dag is still confused, “Not the only thing that went up when she was on screen!”
“So you’re here for the ratings, is that it?”
Ivan stalks around the car. They forget him again. He does so a second time in skinnier jeans and with his top off.
“Now I remember you!” Fran squeals in delight.
“What are you here for?” Martin asks.
“Vodka.”
“Er….Okay….Any particular kind. I hear the Tesco basic Vodka is just about drinkable. It doesn’t make you blind, and at only six pounds a litre means reasonable ABV for the price.”
Ivan is insulted. “Pfft! That is puny bed-wetter’s vodka. Not fit for to give to the dog!”
Li coughs. “I don’t drink vodka.”
“I would not give weak English vodka to a baby!” Ivan declares, and stalks off.
The traffic has cleared somewhat when our heroes catch up with Nana. “Nothing to report really.” She tells them. “A few staff going home. A few coming in for the night shift. That doctor hasn’t gone yet. .”
As she is telling them, a motorbike is heard. Big and powerful, it pulls up outside. A man in leathers gets off, and delivers a package to reception. The package is collected a few minutes later. The man returns to his bike and waits. About twenty minutes later the package is returned. He starts the bike and zooms off.
“Kawazaki ZX14-R” Fran says, dredging up the type from her memory. “over two hundred BHP….Nought to sixty in two point six seconds. Top speed near two-fifty miles an hour….”
“Pfft! Girly-posers- bike!” Ivan scoffs. “I let four year old ride it without helmet on back home in Finland!”
Out of earshot, Dag says to Martin, “All this manly posturing….I think Ivan might be trying to overcompensate for something.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right!”
“Anyway, how can we follow that bike?”
“We could asks a spirit. Any around?”
Li summons a spirit. It is the spirit of a hawk. Martin persuades it to follow the bike.
“Fly my pretty!” He says, directing it over the houses and traffic.
Li isn’t so sure about the hawk. “That bird reminded me of Jar-Jar Binks,” He says, shuddering at the thought.
Pre-emptively, our gang ride out in Fran’s posh motor and head for the industrial estate where Timms has his business. It is by the river in a craptown (Occupied Berkshire) on the outskirts of the conurbation that is Greater Didcot.
PART THREE:
THE HOLLOW ROOM
Outside D.T. Defence Systems, everything is quiet. A few people are probably still working, but most have already gone home. Fran parks a little way away, and lets Nana jump down. As soon as she is out of sight in the bushes, she morphs into her fox-form, and approaches the building. With her supernatural senses attuned, she can smell the Wrym and the Weaver. With her nose tuned in she can smell the motorbike as well. It has been here recently.
She noses around the bins to make the ruse look believable. Martin is watching in the rear-view mirror, making encouraging noises. “Ohh! Look at that lovely bin…..Oh yes the trash compactor! You go girl….” It is all he can do to resist the urge to tough himself in a rude way!
Ivan pipes up in his usual monotone. “In UK you have neat small domestic bins. In Finland we dump all waste in Russia!”
“I’m only glad that Ash isn’t here to hear this.”
“Who knows, by some quirk of continuity, he might be.”
Dag is puzzled. “I guess that it’s a quirk of travelling in the Umbra. – You enter it with some friends and exit it with others….”
“From my experience the Umbra is always damp, misty and mysterious.”
“Always about to rain….Or raining.” Martin says, dejectedly.
“You should bring your Umbra-ella.” Dag says, completely deadpan. The others fall About laughing before they groan at the gag.
A white van goes by. They all feel uneasy.
Nana pipes up. “I’m endangering the mission, I shouldn’t have come!”
“But you’ve got the scent of water….You don’t smell of Wyrm, Weaver or Wild….”
“Oh yeah!” Nana squeals in delight. She slips back out of the car and sneaks around again.
Nana has spied out some security cameras. She makes sure they get her foxy side before disappearing into the bushes once again. As she does so, the white van goes up to the building. It pauses for a moment and then turns around in the car park. A moment later it starts cruising along slowly. Dag’s hackles raise. Li’s hackles start to rise too. He lets out a growl which becomes a snarl.
“What is it boy?” Martin asks.
“Grrrrrrrrrrr!”
“What’s that? Jimmy stuck in the well….Again!”
“Grr….RRR.rrrrrrRrrrR!”
Before Martin can ask another question, Fran shushes him. “Blend in!” She hisses. Dag leans in for a kiss, in order to act the canoodling couple. The look in Fran’s eyes tell him he’d better get his head down. Martin sniggers like Mutley.
The aura of the Wyrm swamps them. The van approaches. It stops about twenty yards away. Two men get out. One of them has something in his hand. It is long and straight and about the size and shape of a short broom-handle. Martin nearly explodes with the giggles.
“It’s a torch, -stupid!” Fran hisses at him.
Torchy!
The men come over the Fran’s car. They peer in at the windows, before putting the torch-like object to the window opposite Fran’s head. At this precise moment, Dag leaps from the passenger seat and considers doing a ‘Dukes-of-Hazzard’ style slide over the bonnet. Fran shoves the door open as hard as she can, spoiling the intentions of the man with the torch. As Dag starts to enact the change to Crinos, the man levels the object at him. There is a slight hissing-pop like compressed air. Milliseconds later a cloud of silver sparkles erupts over Dag, who has partially ducked behind his open door. Nonetheless the particles penetrate skin, burning him with an intense stinging. Fran’s memory goes back some years to their first encounter with this technology. “Glitter Guns!” she screams. Li and Ivan have leaped from the back of the car and round on the men. The fight is on!
The men change. They become twisted evil parodies of werewolves –Black Spiral Dancers! The second man tosses a small ball into the foot-well of the car. Remembering the fate of the vixens long ago, Fran scrabbles desperately to retrieve it. It bounces beneath her seat. For a second, Li considers diving in to the car to retrieve it, but he’s no gundog! Fran changes tack. She concentrates on the mechanical workings of the device. It is a simple chemical reactant with a spring-release blasting-cap. She traps the spring, using her affinity with the spirits of technology to hold off the spring’s action. Dag and the Black Spirals trade blows, claws and teeth flaying at one another. Ivan leaps on the back of the second one, while Li and Martin start ripping with claws.
Nana looks for an opportunity to rush in. As she does so, the van’s rear doors open and two young women jump out. Immediately one starts to look for Nana in the bushes. The other starts muttering in guttural tones.
Finally Fran’s nervous hands get the object. She prays it isn’t Li’s ball and flings it as far as she can. Several heads turn to watch as it bounces into the bushes near the van. With an audible sigh, Fran joins the boys in the fight.
Ivan has leaped upon the glitter-gun Black Spiral’s back. He is alarmed to find that the man is changing form and that sharp spines are growing from the man’s back, impaling Ivan. “Grrrrr! Like an iron maiden in reverse!” Ivan growls. “-And I thought they had prickles ….On the inside!”
Li runs around the car and sinks his teeth into the arm of the second man, who is taking a swing at Fran. Dag and the other man are still trading blows, biting and clawing at one another. A powerful swing rips great chunks of flesh from Dag, who staggers at the onslaught. Ivan grabs the man’s face from behind. His hands become paws, his nails become claws. He prepares to rip the man’s face off. He starts to slide off, or he disengages –it is difficult to tell which. Li disengages, and performs a swift set of moves – the Storm Dance. This distracts the second man and he starts backing away from Li’s obvious display of martial skill.
Meanwhile, the two Goth girls have finished their incantations. The second waves her arms in a darkly shamanistic manner. As she brings her hands together, a baleful green fire erupts from them. Nana thinks she recognises balefire when she sees it and yips a warning. The girls hear it and peer into the bushes, searching for the fox. Nana snaps back into a more human form and draws a small pistol. Realising that the shot needs to be silenced, she quickly screws on a silencer. It sounds something like this: “(silence….)” then:
“SCREECH SCREECH SCREECH….SCREEEEECH SCREEEECH SCREEEECH! THUNK! SCREEEEEEEEEEECH….CLICK!”
Nana shoots. It makes a sound like this: “Pop!”
"Hello gunny!"
Li leaps for the grenade-wielding Black Spiral. His leap stops a couple of feet short. The Spiral sneers at him, just in time for Li to spin quickly and deliver a stunning tornado kick. The monster staggers back at the force of the blow.
A muffled ‘pop’ issues from Nana’s gun. It slices into the hairline of the girl opposite, but only manages to graze her scalp. A second later, Fran releases the spring trigger on the grenade and a huge flash lights up the scene. The blast pushes one of the girls back into the van, spoiling her aim.
The Spirals have the upper hand for a moment. The leader clubs at Dag with enormous hairy paws and sharp claws. The other sets about Li, who is about to finish his combo with another knockout strike. Wicked black talons rip through Li, who looks down to see blood, ribs and entrails in a gory mess beneath his heart. He rolls to one side, panting hard and spitting blood. His strength is fading fast, but he manages to jab back at his attacker. Searing pain rips through the Spiral’s vital point under the arm. He screeches. Ivan claws a the face of the Spiral in front of him. He manages to miss one eye, though tears the other out. The Spiral can’t scream any more. Ivan drops to a prone position over the injured Li. Ivan feels a powerful magic blast him, shredding both his soul and his spirit. He grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut to resist the Goth girl who is trying to drain him of vitality. A brief battle of wills ensues, but Ivan keeps his nerve and his sanity. He throws off the effect with a growl so low that several members of the pack have an urge to relive themselves.
Fran is battling with the Spiral that had the gun, they trade blows, claws ripping into flesh. Teeth clamp onto bone. The Spiral throws her off and claws deep at her side. Blood wells, but Fran is oblivious to the pain. Her rage kicks in and she shifts into something more comfortably terrifying. With a low snarl she is on her assailant, matching claws and bites in a controlled frenzy.
Nana shoots again. This time, at the balefire girl. She misses. She also resists the temptation to look down the barrel of the gun to check that it is working properly! The younger girl finishes her evil incantation. A pool of blackness starts to spread beneath Fran’s car instead of Fran. Fran manages to get a purchase on the spiny Spiral. Claws rend flesh in a new wound.
Dag has suffered greatly, taking it on what is left of his chin. He changes tack and lets out a ferocious roar. This is directed right at the spiny Spiral, who gets the full force of fear in the face. His nerve breaks as he imagines what Dag is about to do to him. He turns tail and makes a break for it. More balefire splashes over Li, who has no choice but to take the full force of the poisonous acidic flames. In his bravery he shields Fran, who is in no state to take much more punishment. Li coughs and sputters what could be his last.
Ivan breaks off his attack, kicking out at the spiral to make it keep its distance. He summons the spirits of healing and lays a hand upon Li. Li’s ragged breathing becomes stronger as flesh knits together once again. He shakes blood from his fur like a dog fresh from the millpond. A few seconds later, his strength returns in a surge.
Nana skips forward and puts the gun barrel against the head of the lead girl. “Dodge this!” She says to the sorceress, completely deadpan. As Nana squeezes the trigger, the girl flinches slightly. The bullet merely grazes the girl. Nana steps back for another shot at longer range. In that instant, Fran leaps heroically onto the girl, tearing and biting. The girl goes down under the onslaught. Fran has also called the car to her and the vehicle obliges. Fran leaps away from the girl, half expecting her to follow. As the girl struggles to her feet, bleeding from several wounds, the car mows her down. When she emerges from the underneath, she is in no position to continue the fight.
Fran-One. Eating scary witches for supper since 2009!
The spiny spiral is starting to overcome the fear of Dag. However a shot from Nana makes him think twice about returning to the fray. Li is feeling frisky and starts loping after the Spiral. The Spiral puts on a spurt of speed and tries to disappear. This is not an effect that is easily done on the hoof, and the Spiral slows. Li has changed form to that of a wolf and leaps upon him, teeth bared. The man’s pace becomes a loping run. This is all Li needs. He sinks his teeth in further, crunching at bone. The Spiral stands his ground, but the life-force is draining out of him fast. As he sinks to the ground, Li steps forward. With a twist, he grips at snaps the spiral’s neck. As Li straightens, the neck snaps. As the creature dies, its body turns rotten, and maggots start pouring fourth from the corrupted flesh. Li skips away, full of the joys of spring, but desperate for a bowl of water.
Dag and Ivan manage to finish off the second Spiral Dancer. It isn’t pretty. That leaves the second witch, who starts an incantation at Dag. Dag doesn’t speak the black speech and rushes forward with Auriel. As the spell blossoms forth, Dag lunges home, the blade of the magical sword piercing the girl’s chest. She looks down, then up at Dag. There is raw hatred there, as well as fear. Half a second later, there is a slight hissing noise and both disappear completely!
Scary witch girl, Victoria.
The first witch is fading fast too. Ivan suggests administering vodka, but the corruption of the flesh accelerates in the girl.
“Who are you working for?” Ivan demands. The girl spits at him – a nasty black bile. Ivan goes to slap her, but stops. The girl’s eyes no longer have the spark of life in them, and she slowly becomes a black puddle on the ground.
“I only offered her vodka!” Ivan insists.
“She gave a spirited response!” Li says, trotting back.
Nana walks over. She is glad to see Li. She hugs Li. Li is a bit startled, but in the end he hugs Nana. Fran is on the phone, arranging for a ‘cleaning’ squad to deal with the white van.
“Where’s Dag?” Fran asks, with genuine concern.
Ivan has forgotten again, “Who?”
“Dag….You know, the one we call Dag.”
“Um….He disappeared….With the witch.”
“Where did they go?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“Can you smell him?”
“No. I can smell vodka though. I think we should go and find it.”
Fran is getting impatient, “Then where the hell is he?”
“Maybe in hell. -After all, that’s where that girly came from….” Li muses, “Though I’m not so sure….”
“One thing we know for sure though,” Nana says, “If he’s gone to hell that is….”
“What’s that?”
“It’ll be a long walk back!”
They don’t seem overly concerned about Dag’s welfare. “I’m sure he’s safe….Or dead.”
“No matter. Let’s wait for the cleaning team.” Fran says, rather unconcerned. “In the meantime any chance of questioning the other girl?”
Ivan goes over to her. She was once a pretty young woman, apart from the hint of Wrym corruption and the mangling that Fran’s car has imparted to her body. “I give her vodka. Then she talk.” Ivan says.
Li isn’t so sure. “She’s fading fast. Either the corruption or the running over with a two-ton car seems to have done its job….” They watch as the life drains from the yong woman. The flesh corrupts quickly and she becomes dust. It bows away on the breeze. Before they can comment, they hear footsteps, and see a torch shining in their direction.
Nana realises what this means, and skips over to the torch, away from the desiccating body of the young witch.
“What’s going on here?” A man’s voice says.
Nana is quick to reply. In her sweetest voice she tells him, “It’s my birthday! I’m eighteen! We’re going for drinks….We went for drinks. I had to stop….To let drinks out.”
The man and his two colleagues look at Nana. Her sweet innocent face is a picture.
“Okay, but I’d keep the noise down if I were you.”
“We will. One of my friends decided to start party here. I say no, but he very insistent. Eighteenth birthday very big in Japan.” Nana’s eyes widen to their fullest extent.
The man shrugs. “Okay…..Well….Happy birthday and all that.”
“Thank you and sorry for noise. We go now!”
Nana gives a little wave with one hand. The other –still behind her back- holds her pistol at the ready.
Having given the men the brush-off, Nana skips away until she is out of sight, singing ‘happy birthday to me!” Then she walks back to the car.
“No sign of Dag?”
“Nope. And good riddance I say!”
“Yeah, I never liked him anyway. Horrible, despicable bloke.”
“Yeah. I agree. Something not quite right about him. – Like some seventies television star!”
“Hulking-great stupid Ahroun, spoiling for a fight, getting us into trouble.”
“And the snoring.”
“Oh yes, oh my god! The snoring! Never again will we be kept awake by that monstrous cacophany in the night.”
“Good riddance, I say!”
They start piling in insults and derogatory terms on the late departed Dag. After a while –a good ten minutes they stop.
“You know what this means?” Fran says after a moment’s silence.
“What?”
“As Dag was Alpha male….It makes his number two the top dog….That’d be Frank.”
Nana is the first to get a comment in. “Oh Dag….We hope you’re not dead. Please please come back to us.”
“Good old boy, that Dag.”
“The best.”
“Best ever.”
“Like a brother to me he was.”
Ivan is not impressed. “He drink my vodka. For that I never, never, EVER forgive. –Not even in a thousand generations!”
“Frank’s in charge now.” Fran reminds him.
“Pfft! Only vodka! Dag is forgiven!”
When this doesn’t summon Dag from the afterlife, they retreat to the car. “What did you find out on your little scouting mission, Nana?” Fran asks.
“That the building is sealed up like a drum.”
“Not surprising really. It’s a contractor for the Ministry of defence. They’re gonna be so secure it’s probably leak-tight.”
“Tighter than vodka factory before mid summer eve.” Ivan says, somewhat unhelpfully.”
“Must be a way in.” Fran says, her spider senses tingling. “There isn’t a lock yet that I can’t pick.”
“What about that storeroom back in the hospital?”
“Apart from that.”
“And when you locked yourself out of the car?”
“Yes! Okay! Enough!”
They creep nearer the building. Fran can see some state-of-the art security measures.
“How about big fire? We burn down building until windows melt.” Ivan suggests.
“Probably destroying anything we might want to pilfer.” Fran says, “-Though that gives me an idea.”
She works some stuff out on a tablet. “I’m gonna spike the generator. Just a few second’s hiccup. It might be enough to open a fire door, and get inside. From there I’ll wire a bypass around the ‘door open’ alarm circuit. We’ll have to be quick. It’ll buy a few seconds at most.”
They send Nana around again to check on the power supply. They practice their moves in the bushes, and at the pre-arranged signal go into action.
They trip the mains power. It starts the backup generator running on a soft-start. In that three seconds, Ivan and Li open the door. That is to say, they struggle to push the door inward….When it opens outward. They get frustrated and use claws to rip it open. It gets stuck open only a few inches. Nana slips though, but can’t decipher Fran’s frantic instructions. In the end everyone shoves at the door. Fran slips inside and wires a bypass. It’s taken more than three seconds, but no alarms sound that they can hear.
They are in a short corridor. There is another door at the far end. This leads out into a workshop where there are a number of big transformers, reels of wire and high-tech switchgear. They prowl around. They know that a few employees are still in the building working late. They spread out.
They find small labs divided into blocks. Each has various warning signs on them, - ‘radiation’, ‘bio hazard’ and ‘explosive substances’ to name but three. There are lots of computers dotted around, but most seem to be for experimentation, data-logging and monitoring systems, or remote triggers. Li finds some chemicals that distinctly smell of Wyrm taint. “I bet they haven’t got the correct COSHH certificates for these.” He whispers to Fran. Nana hears a noise. She goes to investigate. Someone is creeping up the corridor from the fire door. Nana slides along the wall, using the remains of the door as visual cover. The other person is sliding around the door. Nana waits, the gun nestling in her hand. The intruder makes to leap on the girl. Nana prepares to shoot a point blank. A millisecond before they attack one another, Nana stares into the eyes of Dag.
She drops her guard. Dag does the same.
“Where have you been?” Nana hisses at him.
“Umbra….That damn witch slipped into the spirit world at the point of death….on the point of Auriel!” Dag explains. “I’ve been running back from the area start point for about twenty minutes now!”
“This way!” Nana shows him. They rejoin the others.
D.T. Defence Systems Ltd. -Interior.
They wander around for a few minutes. They spot a security guard, but are not detected. “I need to get upstairs.” Fran says. Ivan’s eyes shoot up. “It’s where the offices are.” She explains hastily. They creep up stairs. They can hear some low volume chatter from employees and see the security guard doing his rounds. They duck into some offices. “Keep an eye out.” Fran says. She starts hacking into the computer.
After a few minutes, she starts getting frustrated. “This is quite complex. Not impossible, but I need time.”
The others have noticed that slowly and subtly that the employees are starting to leave. One by one, they are ‘going for coffee’, ‘off for a pee’ or simply packing up and logging off. “Something’s up!” Ivan notices.
“I hear vehicles approaching.” Nana says.
Fran is frantic. She spots an opportunity and dashes for a smart-office in the corner. A few keystrokes later and she has powered up a laptop. She rips a Kensington lock out of the wall and snatches the laptop. Dag ushers her to the ladies cloakrooms.
“It’s okay. I went before we came out!”
“It’s also the last place they’ll look!” Dag hisses at her. She complies.
Inside the ladies toilets is a large mirror. Li and Ivan are already starting to pass through into the spirit world.
“I only just left there….To come here!” Dag says, not missing the irony.
“You might be stuck here. This is tough going.” Li whispers frantically, trying to push the fabric or reality back. They all struggle to pass into the Umbra. Footsteps become clumping boots outside the door. There are shouts of “All clear.” And the distinct sound of a frantic search. As the ladies cloakroom door opens, Fran’s hand reaches back and grabs the laptop. She squeezes through.
“Blimey, that was close!” She says, panting hard at the exertion.
“Gauntlet around here must be thick.”
“Thicker even than Frank!”
“Weaver and Wyrm….” Dag says, nearly stepping on a bloated, corrupted spider. They move away slowly. Even movement in the Umbra is difficult here. They make for the sanctuary of the river.
“Good old river, Never lets us down.”
Fran is keen to get back. “I swiped a laptop, but if I don’t act fast it’ll only be as useful as a ZX81.”
They lay out a space blanket. Near the river, the gauntlet is thinner, and they slip back into reality. Fran whistles for her car, and within a few minutes the motor is purring beside them.
“Okay folks, show’s over. Let’s get back and see what is what.”
“Goodbye sneaking around in the dark, hello millionaires!” Dag says.
“That’s a lot of vodka!” Ivan says.
“Do you ever think of anything but vodka?”
“Yes. Sometimes I think of Sex on the Beach.”
There is a moment’s silence. Nana says, “But that’s fruit juice…..And vodka.”
Ivan asks, “Is it? I was referring to copulating on the coastline. –It would be a crime to dilute vodka in such a way.”
“But sex on the beach would be four of your five a day.” Dag points out.
“Ha! Back in Finland we have fornication in the fjords….Though it is horrible….Because it is the near the hated Swedes…..They are all blond, blue-eyed, healthy and happy…..Not like us Finns.”
“Compensating for anything much?” Fran asks under her breath, making Dag nod knowingly.
They get back without a hitch. Some people remark on Fran going into her garage with a bunch of men and emerging several hours later – having been nowhere. But they are not actors with proper speaking parts so we can ignore their sniggers.
They rest up. Fran goes into work the next morning. She locks herself in the office and starts to go through the laptop. Luckily a few minutes in the spirit world hasn’t done it much harm. About midday, there is an insistent knock on her door.
“Who is it?” Fran demands, deep in concentration, and not a little irritated.
“Detective inspector Nex. Open up please.” A man’s voice says.
Caught in the act, there is nowhere to run. Fran tucks the laptop into a drawer and locks it. She opens the door. Two men stand there. One has a police badge. “How may I help you inspector?” Fran purrs.
“Frances Kublic?
“Yes?”
“This is Mister Halfpenny,” Nex says, “He’s from the Ministry of Defence Police. I’d like to know of your whereabouts around seven o’clock last night.”
Fran looks at him for a moment. The detective lowers his voice. “If you would like to come quietly, we can avoid too much of a scene.”
“Certainly.” Fran says, not very certain at all.
“It’d be better all round if we don’t drag you through your office in handcuffs.” Nex says.
Fran gives him a “Just try it buster….” look, but complies. Her P.A. is waiting anxiously at the office door. “Cancel my lunch appointment.” Fran tells her. She is led to a police car outside. A second car with another officer follows the first.
CODA
“We’ve got her bang to rights.” D.I. Nex says, “–Industrial espionage, breaking and entering, criminal damage….We’ve got CCTV of the car, fingerprints, witnesses, the lot.”
Halfpenny looks worried. “True, but its delicate. If Timms testifies and can prove that there was sensitive data on the missing laptop, we’ll put his company on lockdown. He’ll be jumping through the hoops for months trying to get his certificate back. Kublic will be looking at between two and five years.”
Nex nods, “ – But if Timms maintains that it was his personal computer, she’ll get away with maybe a fine and a caution. But we’ll ask for a CPS recommendation.”
“Does she have anything in the way of defence?”
“An alibi that’ll be heard to crack. First offence. She might plead guilty to save the company the embarrassment of a trial.”
“That’d sure cut down on the paperwork.”
Nex pushes back his chair. “It’s a funny one. Timms is almost–but-not-quite-entirely-unlike squeaky clean. His past isn’t something he’d want dragging up. On the other hand, Kublic is a sly old fox. –You can see it in her eyes.”
“A good thing that alone isn’t enough to convict.”
“Fortunate for her….” Nex agrees with his colleague, “For now….”
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Footnotes: