by Karl Fish
Chapter 39
Illuminated
Belle Soames had spent the best part of an hour ensuring the intricacies of each cartouche reflected as accurate an image of the hieroglyphics as if suspended in perpetuity from one of the chambers beneath the Valley of the Kings. It was her firm belief that each one began and ended as a separate set of instructions but what they truly meant, the content of such information when combined, eluded her.
The obvious images of Horus, the bringer of light; Anubis, the lord of the afterlife; and Osiris, death and resurrection himself, were ever-present in the hundreds of rubbings she had historically researched and recorded; as too the undeniable eye of RA staring back at her. The scarabs were also ever-present but their part to play clearly not understood. However, of the nine images that made up the three detailed copies, she was least sure of what the two serving women were actually doing. A plant in their hands and a vessel for grinding, if she wasn’t mistaken. Could it be part of some ancient apothecary’s task? She couldn’t be sure but just footsteps away in the Ancient Hall of the Mummies she had ample exhibits she could use to find any historical links.
When Belle finally left her father’s office to continue her investigations, the many workmen and women were already setting about their delicate daily tasks of preparing the removal and security of ancient artefacts. Akin to their sister museum across town, their challenges were monuments in stone opposed to taxidermy examples of gigantic mammals.
Belle entered the Ancient Hall of the Mummies. She hadn’t stepped in it since her father’s recent accident. She wasn’t sure who had actually trodden in its antiquated realm since the visiting organisation known as OSIRIS had left. Montague Soames had made it his pride and joy and people would not dare disrespect the revered Professor.
A cold chill sent Goosebumps up her arms as she entered the darkened room. The lights were set dimly to recreate the inner workings of a Pyramids tomb as well as preserve them from the damage of daylight. Intermittent electric candles flickered to mimic their waxy counterparts and illuminate their centuries-old subjects so visitors would have to move closer and examine them in great detail. Belle knew the route and sequence of the exhibits intimately and headed for the main sarcophagus of an ancient Egyptian priestess. Her obsession with this particular mummy was due to its revelatory hieroglyphics depicting everyday life. It was believed she may have been a doctor or physician to one of the great pharaohs, as her tomb had been found almost perfectly intact beneath one of them. Unfortunately, the light was so dim that the truly wonderful glyphs were masked in the shadows. Taking the standard torch left by Nathaniel and Gideon she began to project the steady white beam across the many images looking for any sign or relationship of the working women. There were hundreds of tiny markings and the task was infinitely laborious. If anyone had the tenacity to investigate then it was certainly Belle Soames. Ten minutes of focusing on torchlight and her eyes began to throb. The beam itself was growing weaker, the battery was running low. She laboured on as the light flickered and gave out a last final spurt before dying unceremoniously in her palm.
In her pocket, she still had the torch with the violet beam. She had little doubt it was next to useless in comparison, for this particular task anyway, but even the slightest advantage may allow her to spot the minimal of leads. With the beam lit, she moved very close to the glyphs so she could see the tiny hieroglyphics under the pink hue. Nothing. Not even during half an hour of intensive scrutiny could she find any similar images of the working women or the plant they tended. Belle had all but given up when she went back to the beginning just to double-check she hadn’t missed anything. And there it was, missed by any standard light, but lit up in the same luminance as the totems in the photograph.
The curve of a line was as it appeared, to begin with. ‘It’s a circle,’ Belle reassured herself, having followed the full line of the curve. At first, the crescent of luminous purple looked isolated, but once Belle had taken a short step back, she realised it was a great big oval she had stumbled upon.
‘But what is it framing?’ she asked herself. Using the violet torch once more, she began focusing on the glyphs inside the circle. None of them made much sense in isolation and the circumference cut through several cartouches to make no sense at all. ‘That can’t be it,’ she spoke to herself once again. Stepping back even further, she shone the torch on the glyphs once more. Moving left to right the beam caught yet more of the illuminating colour, again another circle but smaller in size and a straight line heading upwards from its top-left curve.
‘Oh!’ came her amazement out loud. ‘You’re not ancient at all. Not in the same sense as the drawings.’ She smiled. ‘You’re actually an “O”, aren’t you?’ she continued, talking at the first luminous lettering on the wall. ‘And your neighbour … is “b”.’
Belle Soames was incandescent with the revelation, and somehow knew this was recent vandalism. As she moved the torch towards the right, two more letters jumped out from their illuminated state behind the sarcophagus. The next letter was ‘e’.
‘E for eureka!’ she shouted out loud. She had to tell Nate and Gideon as soon as she could but she knew they were well into their journey by now. Whitehall, she must journey to Whitehall. She must find Wink and Thompson immediately.
*****
Aggie had waited nervously before finally, Governess Dove entered Sister Harvey’s classroom.
‘I’m pleased to advise that Gemima Peabody is now home despite nursing a minor concussion. A reminder to all of you ladies you must take better care when fooling around playing your games,’ she advised.
‘It was Chatsmore, Miss,’ Shouted out Henrietta Huntington-Smythe, her arm lightning quick to be the first tell-tale from Priory.
Aggie was furious but controlled her immediate anger, not that she would jeopardise a detention she already had received, still, she wanted that time alone with Harvey.
‘Thank you, Henrietta,’ Sister Harvey interrupted. ‘Chatsmore is detained with me this evening already. I shall deal with her then.’
Dove gave the Sister a peculiar frown. ‘Be sure to have her gone before the ladies of the Women’s Institute show up,’ Dove advised her. Sister Harvey duly nodded.
It was a lonely lunch-hour for Agatha. No Elizabeth or Gemima Peabody to keep her company. The repetitive chorus of the Seven Sisters skipping song reverberating throughout her mind and the ever-threatening Priory girls who systematically stalked her as she tried keeping herself busy.
Isolated and alone in her thoughts, Aggie reminisced of Marylebone and the company of Florrie. Gideon would have no choice but to explain her missing aunt’s whereabouts tonight. She would insist on that. While she walked repetitive circuits of the girls’ side of the playground, she looked to Eric’s corner but it was empty. Gemima was safe. She could take solace in that, and no doubt, Ambledown’s sneakiest child was out causing mischief somewhere, which brought a smile to her face.
The clang of the bell ended that torturous hour. As she waited patiently at the very back of the line, a commotion broke out on the boys’ side. In Eric’s corner, a knotted rope had been hurled over from the side of the marshes. Several evacuee boys sprinted and made light work of the fencing. They were joined by local Priory boys too and, before too long, a few evacuee girls broke the boundary and had alighted from the playground. The Brothers and Sisters were taken by surprise. It happened so quickly. A dozen or so children had escaped to rounds of cheers, though the Priory girls, as always, offered a sultry disapproval.
‘What on earth are you up to, Eric Peabody?’ Agatha spoke to herself. ‘It has to be you, Eric, no one else is that audacious.’
‘Come along, Chatsmore. Stop gawping,’ came the now-familiar authoritative tone of Sister Harvey. ‘Only a couple of hours until detention.’ She smiled.
Aggie smiled back with enthusiasm.
*****
‘Do you think he will be receptive, considering recent events?’ Noone asked
Gideon.
‘He’s the more reasonable twin between him and Lyle,’ Gideon said and smiled.
The unforgettable passageway they had just entered was moments from the checkpoints of Victoria. Its unappealing grime and detritus flowed into the street. Ensuring they had not attracted any unwanted attention, Gideon and Noone trod carefully amongst the filth as they approached a redundant ticket booth, knocking on the shuttered wooden boarding.
A letterbox peephole slid open and two familiar eyes stared back at them
‘Well, well, if it isn’t the Professor and The Melted Man. I thought I wouldn’t be seeing you two again,’ came a husky tone.
‘Hello, Tate,’ Gideon replied. ‘I wondered if you could open her up for us.’
‘Again?’ Tate replied, already considering his price.
Tate Braggan’s similarity to his recently departed twin was undeniable, albeit for a slight scar upon his lip. The pitiful waif was as scrawny and devious as his brother yet had twice the intellect of Lyle and already knew this was to be a generous payday as it had been just days prior.
‘It’s gonna cost ya, Professor,’ Tate expressed gratuitously.
‘No crew, Tate, no carriages. Just the engine and ourselves. And I’ll double the last fee.’ Gideon replied.
‘You two going to shovel coal all the way then, after what happened last time?’ Tate laughed, eyeballing Noone up and down.
‘If that’s what it takes,’ Noone challenged back.
‘Only I remember an incident with the flames, Mr Noone. Not sure you should be near the furnace.’
‘He’ll be fine. I guarantee it,’ Gideon reassured Tate.
‘Anything else I should know?’ Tate smirked.
‘Suffice it to say, avoid anyone you can. Particularly, any official types,’ Noone interjected.
‘Comes with the territory,’ said Tate chuckling and shutting the peephole.
The sound of several deadbolts unlocked the door as the doorway to the booth swung open. Noone and Gideon crouched to enter.
‘Follow me,’ Tate directed, bolting the door behind them. Carrying a dimly lit paraffin burner, Tate directed them through the rear door of the tatty booth’s interior as it descended via circular steps into a long winding corridor. Deep beneath the surface, where Wink’s troops were surveying people above, Noone, Gideon, and Tate arrived at the tunnel entrance.
‘Here she is, boys. I’m sure you remember how beautiful she is.’ Tate smiled, greeting his steam engine as if were one of his offspring. ‘Now, it’ll be suicidal to leave before dark. Agreed?’
‘Agreed,’ Noone and Gideon replied. They had little choice.
‘I suggest you get some rest then. You’re gonna need it, Professor.’
*****
‘My apologies, ma’am,’ Thompson began. ‘But we have reasonable doubt surrounding Major Collingdale’s involvement. Swears blind he doesn’t know tiger-lady, yet we found these, as Professor Belchambers told us we would. In the Museum.’ Thompson held aloft the long stripy-skinned coat and the curled blonde wig.
‘Ever thought he may be telling the truth and Belchambers is the duplicitous one?’ Wink replied.
‘Crossed my mind, ma’am, but we also found this,’ Thompson said, producing the OSIRIS card. ‘Admits it’s his – well, we did find it in his office – but cannot for the life of him recall how he got it.’
Wink took a long drag on her continuing chain of cigarettes. She switched the light off from the panel in front of her, from behind the glass mirror where they were observing Collingdale, and switched another one on that lit up Colonel Malling.
‘Interesting then that he too provides the same story,’ she said, exhaling a large defiant puff of smoke as Thompson looked on, hidden from the two colonels.
‘This isn’t adding up,’ Wink continued but was interrupted by a knock on the door.
Outside, the nervous Smith and Jones whispered into Thompson’s ear as he opened it. He thanked them and told them to wait in front of the door. Revolving to stare directly at Wink his skin was pallid and beads of sweat were beginning to form.
‘Good God, Thompson, it cannot be that bad, surely. Draper advised me you were made of sterner stuff.’
‘Apologies, ma’am. Several worrying items of note to be aware of. These two men,’ he said pointing at the now agitated Collingdale and Malling in their independent cells, ‘are on the OSIRIS list and the majority of the additional fundraising attendees appear to work for them or have ties to them.’
‘Enlighten me, Thompson,’ she said.
‘Well, this gentleman here, ma’am.’ He pointed to one of the men in the photograph. ‘He is the tower master of St Paul’s.’
‘And?’
‘And this man here, ma’am,’ he advised pointing to the second. ‘He is man at arms at The Tower.’
‘No time for riddles, Thompson. Spit it out.’
‘Well, all these men are critical in air-raid protocols across the city. They control the safety of all the citizens. Hundreds of thousands of us.’
‘Just these men?’
‘Of course, not just these men, ma’am, but the list we found has the common denomination that the majority of them are somehow linked via Malling to the very heart of our security.’
Wink Waverley stopped puffing away. The reality of such an insurgency into London’s safety left her as pallid as Thompson had been. If London fell, the war was lost, for sure.
‘And another thing, ma’am. Draper is not on the list.’
‘What!’ Wink replied with incredulity.
‘Not his code name, real name or any pseudonym I am aware of,’ Thompson confirmed.
‘Then what was he doing there?’
‘Perhaps he is complicit, ma’am,’ Thompson suggested.
‘Or perhaps he had infiltrated them,’ Wink replied curtly.
‘Perhaps,’ Thompson agreed humbly.
‘May I suggest my men round up as many from this list as we can, ma’am. We need to isolate any suspects immediately and understand this scenario to the best of our abilities.’
‘Very well,’ Wink agreed. ‘I will get to work on the two we have close by,’ she said, pointing at the unaware prisoners behind the glass.
Thompson took his leave and was just departing when Wink questioned him one final time.
‘Is there anything else you are not telling me, Thompson? You don’t look your usual chipper self.’
‘Of course not, ma’am. Just shocked, that’s all,’ he finished, leaving the room.
Ensuring he closed the door behind him he marched his men several steps from the observation room, informing them in a hushed tone, ‘Smith, you take St Paul’s,’ he ordered. ‘Jones, The Tower.’
‘Is that it, sir? Is that all?’ they replied together.
‘Continue with your tasks. I must seek help on the coast and return tonight. Be very careful who you talk to and be subtle in your enquiries.’
‘But what about the list? Surely, we cannot ignore–’ Smith said before being interrupted.
‘For now, we have to play along like nothing has changed. I don’t know who to trust but, ironically, need you to trust me.’
Thompson looked down at the list of names in front of him. On the final page, having been executed in alphabetical order, one name stood out like a sore thumb: Winifred Waverley.
Chapter 40
The Crest
Professor Malcolm was surprised that the small rowing boat remained buoyant considering the weighty frame of Pop Braggan, accompanied by his wolfhound and The Lady, not to mention the hulking presence of the orderlies. The Professor sat in the centre of the boat while the finely counterbalanced men sat staring at each other from opposite ends.
‘Got a picture of wot ya need?’ Pop asked the Professor.
Meticulous Meredith Malcolm pulled a pencil sketch of the Sussex Sedge and passed it to the man. Pop gave a subtle grunt and his powerful forearms initiated momentum as he directed them towards t
he cliff bank near to where he had altercated with the American guards. Professor Malcolm saw the gold bar across his knuckles as it glinted in the sunshine. Pop ensured the orderlies saw it too.
‘Why we head there?’ the first orderly spoke. ‘Men with guns, dangerous.’
‘So, you been here before?’ Pop enquired as his mighty barrel-chest exhaled and thrust them forward.
‘We lose lots money,’ the second one replied before the first one hushed him up.
‘Oh yeah? I lost a nephew,’ Pop replied, taking an oar in one hand and standing astride the boat. Luna was poised in attack mode.
‘We not understand!’ the two men shouted back.
‘I fink you do understand,’ Pop argued back, raising the oar to swing.
‘We robbed. By little man with funny walk. He no deliver the bird but he take money.’
‘Eh? Wot bird. Bird like this?’ Pop asked, pointing to the cawing magpie on his shoulder.
‘No, no. Prey bird, royal bird,’ they replied acting out talons with their clawed fingers. ‘He promise to meet us, not show. We trust him, due to cat.’
‘Prey bird, like a falcon. Cat? Yer not making sense.’ Pop replied.
‘Yes, yes … he say pere … pere falcon.’ The orderly was pointing up the cliff face, flapping his hands, mimicking the hovering style of the falcon.
‘Peregrine falcon?’ Malcolm interjected. ‘Very rare at this time of year.’
‘Not in Ambledown,’ Pop advised. ‘OK, you show me where,’ Pop ordered them, lowering the oar and retreating his dog. ‘And wot was that about a cat?’
‘There,’ said the first orderly and pointed. ‘Up there!’
Pop looked up at the chalk cliff, almost vertical to the blood on the rocks he had found. He whispered into The Lady’s ear and it flew off soaring in increasing circles until it landed on the cliff edge many feet above. It’s jolty jumping from mound to rock in a nervous flapping manner created maximum attention.