by Ian Cook
The two Newton Stones were about six foot tall, roughly hewn, weathered and covered in lichen. They stood a few feet apart, one leaning slightly forwards, the other slightly backwards, like an ancient couple who were brooding and sulking after a tiff. The inscriptions on them were still clear.
Larry was standing in front of one of the Stones, notebook in hand, closely inspecting what appeared to be a script down one side. Hearing them arrive, he turned round and beckoned them over.
“Hello, you two. Come and see this. Ogham script – ancient Celtic. I’ll bet it’s a memorial stone of some sort.”
But Jim had become quickly engrossed in some writing at the top of the Stone. There were six lines written in a strange script carved into the rock. He pointed them out to Larry. “Any idea what this is?” Rebecca joined them to see what Jim was studying.
“Plenty of people have tried to decipher it, but nobody’s managed it yet, as far as I know,” said Larry. He pointed to a symbol in the middle of the inscription. “This is what attracts a lot of attention. It looks like a swastika – a sun-sign. It was an ancient symbol of the sun crossing the sky. Of course, that was long before the Nazis adopted it for their own evil purposes. But this isn’t really the same as the German swastika. See the end of this one arm – it’s bent upwards.”
Rebecca went over to the other Stone. “What about this one?”
“Much more straight forward. It’s another Pictish symbol stone,” Jim said, walking over to it.
He ran his finger over the various features carved into the surface. “Look here – a double disc. And here – a serpent crossed by a Z-rod. See this large Z shape carved over the serpent. They could be symbols of the afterlife. Nobody really knows.” He looked at his watch. “Larry, I don’t want to rush you, but it’s the conference dinner tonight, and time’s getting on.”
Larry reluctantly moved away from the Stones and checked his own watch. “Heavens! I suppose we’d better be going. I would’ve liked to have taken some decent photos, though. I’ll have to come back another time. Can’t be late for the Christmas dinner bash, can we? Are you coming, Rebecca?”
Rebecca looked taken aback. “Nobody told me about any dinner. I haven’t got anything suitable to wear.” Larry and Jim looked at each other sheepishly.
A minute later, car doors slammed, followed by the noise of cars starting and driving away. For a moment, back at the Stones, all was quiet and still apart from the harsh cries of the rooks. Then, even they stopped.
From behind one of the Stones, the one with the ‘sun-sign’, a dark but striking figure emerged. It was Dr Neferatu. But this time, he looked quite different.
CHAPTER 39
Unpacking in the hotel room, Rebecca critically examined her clothes. “Why didn’t they warn me there was going to be a dinner?” she grumbled to herself, though she knew she really should have packed for more eventualities.
She had brought two dresses, each of them selected for an intimate dinner, but both eminently unsuitable for an official event. She tried on the green one, which was far too short, then the black with the plunging neckline, then the green again, before finally deciding on the black, after all. It might just about do with black tights. Yet the five inch high heels, her only option, risked not only a nasty accident, but serious academic disapproval.
She liberally doused herself in perfume, and after a final brush of her hair and quick check in the mirror, teetered to the lift and went down to reception, where Larry and Jim were waiting for her. While Larry smiled indulgently when he saw her, Jim looked decidedly embarrassed.
“I’ll drive,” he said quickly.
By tradition, the event was strictly formal. Jim had managed to borrow a tie, which he hadn’t managed to knot successfully. Larry was wearing the only formal suit he possessed.
At the conference centre, they passed into the dining room, an annexe to the main conference hall. At the far end of the room, equipment for a band was set up on a small stage. Separate large round tables were arranged over the room, leaving a small dance area in front of the stage. Most people were already gathered around the bar.
After taking in the scene, Jim turned to Rebecca. “What would you like to drink?”
“Vodka, please – Stolichnaya – if they’ve got it.”
Jim looked taken aback. “I didn’t think you drank?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “I just fancy enjoying myself tonight.”
Jim turned to Larry.
“A pint of bitter for me, thanks, Jim.”
Rebecca looked around the gathering, took her vodka from Jim and drained it in one. Jim raised his eyebrows.
“At least that obnoxious Dr Neferatu isn’t going to be here,” she said. “If there’s one person who gives me the creeps…”
Jim put his hand to his forehead. “I don’t like to tell you this – but he’s – er – definitely here. Here in Aberdeen, I mean.”
Rebecca looked puzzled. “What do you mean – here?”
“He’s here at the conference in Aberdeen – for our paper. He says he wants to work with me.”
“What! Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t think it was that important. Anyway, it doesn’t really have anything to do with you.”
She banged her empty glass down on a table and glared at him. “My God, that’s all I need. Why on earth should he want to work with you?”
With obvious reluctance, Jim explained Dr Neferatu’s visit and proposal, managing to avoid mentioning the £10,000 grant, until the very end.
“You don’t actually believe all that crap, do you?”
Jim looked defiant. “Look, if he wants to fund a new department or whatever, it’s my duty, my professional duty, to encourage him. He’s entirely serious. You may not know that he has got a doctorate from the University of Alexandria. And all he wanted from me was a background document. In fact, I knocked it off in a couple of hours.”
“Doesn’t it strike you that it’s all a bit bizarre? It wouldn’t surprise me if he gave you a dud cheque.”
Jim frowned. “Why would he give me a dud cheque?”
Rebecca looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “How can you even think of working with such a repulsive person?”
“What on earth have you got against him? He might be a bit odd, but he’s done nothing bad as far as I know. And it’s the easiest ten thousand I’ve ever earned.”
“That man is trouble. Have you looked at his eyes? Pure evil. Has the university tried paying in the cheque yet?”
“No – they won’t have had time. It’ll probably be in the New Year now.”
“You’ll see – it’ll bounce right out of the window. I bet you didn’t even check out his credentials.”
Jim was silent as Rebecca glared at him, but at that moment, Larry, looking over her shoulder, raised his hand to stop her continuing.
“Might be better to change the subject. Guess who’s here! At least, I think it’s him. He looks different somehow. And he’s making his way over here.”
Dr Neferatu was elbowing his way steadily through the throng towards them. Standing in front of Larry and Jim, he studiously ignored Rebecca.
He seemed much older than before, when they had seen him last on Easter Island. There were grey streaks in his hair and his face was now deeply lined. His eyes seemed duller, although still noticeably green. He looked perhaps ten years older, an effect accentuated by his slightly threadbare double-breasted dinner jacket, the lapels of which curled up at the edges.
“Buenas tardes,” he said, turning his back on Rebecca.
“Good evening,” said Larry, shaking Dr Neferatu’s proffered hand. “Jim told me you would be here. But I am a little surprised, to say the least. It’s a long way to come.”
“Not at all, Professor Burton. Your work on Easter Island fascinates me.”
Larry glanced at Dr Neferatu’s hair. “Are you all right? Did anything happen to you on Easter Island?”
Dr Neferatu’s expression remained impassive. “I haven’t exactly been taking the sun here, if that’s what you mean.”
“The weather can be far worse than this, in this part of the world,” observed Larry.
Dr Neferatu ignored him. “Now – I must let you get back to your colleagues,” he said. Without so much as a ‘see you later’ or ‘goodbye’, he turned on his heel and quickly disappeared into the crowd.
Larry looked intrigued. “Imagine him coming all this way. Did you see how old he looked? His hair has gone quite grey.”
“Maybe he’s just run out of hair dye,” said Jim, still rattled by Rebecca’s comments.
Rebecca didn’t smile. “Well, he’s not going to spoil my evening. Would anybody like another drink?”
Larry and Jim politely declined, and Rebecca made for the bar.
“Do you think she’s okay?” said Jim. “She’s barely touched a drop whenever I’ve been with her.”
“She went through a lot on Easter Island, you know,” said Larry. “And seeing Dr Neferatu here must bring it all back.”
Jim nodded in agreement. “Even so, it’s a side of her character I haven’t seen before. We’ll have to keep an eye on her.” He caught sight of a Cambridge colleague, and they were soon both engaged in lively, academic discussion.
A largely male crowd was trying to catch the attention of the student bar staff. Irritated at being ignored, Rebecca waved her arms around in a vain attempt to catch the eye of a barman. Frustrated, she stepped back and waved a ten pound note in the air. “I was here first. Stolichnaya – and make it a double,” she yelled. Surprised heads turned and the crowd parted to let her through.
Taking a large gulp of vodka, she made towards the stage, where five musicians were getting ready. The line-up was electric piano, sax, trumpet, double-bass and drums. They swung into their first number unobtrusively, knowing their job was to provide suitable background music. For a while, Rebecca watched them from the side of the room, tapping her foot to the beat. After a short time, she returned to the bar to demand another Stolichnaya.
With the call from the conference organiser to “Be seated”, Jim broke off from his conversation with an associate from Reading University and looked around for Rebecca. She was wandering aimlessly around the room. He went over to her, grabbed her elbow and, catching sight of Larry’s hand waving to him, escorted her to Larry’s table. As the two of them sat down, the table was full apart from one seat.
The wine was just being poured when they were joined, as if from nowhere, by Dr Neferatu. “May I join you?” he asked.
“Bugger off,” Rebecca said, under her breath.
“Of course,” Jim answered. But Dr Neferatu had already seated himself next to Jim and opposite Rebecca. Rebecca glowered and downed a glass of red wine in one go. She held out her empty glass towards the bottle, until a genial old historian between Larry and herself obligingly filled it up.
“Do you think you should be drinking quite so much?” Jim whispered to her.
“I’m fine. Just having fun,” she said, swaying.
Without warning, she leaned forward over the table towards Dr Neferatu, knocking over the historian’s glass of water and soaking the tablecloth. The historian made to refill his glass but, catching sight of her cleavage, spilled more water than he put in the glass.
“Dr Neferatu,” said Rebecca, very slightly slurring the words. “So tell me – what do you really think was happening on Easter Island when we last met? What was going on when Señor Nata was murdered? It was like some ancient sacrifice. You know it nearly happened to me?”
Just for one split second, Dr Neferatu looked taken aback. Quickly regaining his composure, his features settled into a hard, almost menacing expression.
“I’m afraid you managed to get yourself mixed up in some local conflict. Very nasty, I agree, but then you must understand that these things can happen in small, isolated communities. Conflicts and feuds can fester for years, or even for centuries.”
“But why did I see such horrific things at the dinner there? Things nobody else said they saw. Do you think I was just imagining them?”
“Oh, I think perhaps you must have been rather tired. You must work very hard.” He turned away and began to address the young archaeologist on his right.
Rebecca watched him for a while in silence, poured herself another glass of wine and sat there sullenly, ignoring the polite attempts of the other diners to engage her in conversation.
Jim occasionally moved the wine bottle out of her reach, but another diner would always politely refill her glass. Rebecca continued to drink steadily throughout the meal, contributing little to the general conversation at the table.
The band played all through the dinner, sticking mainly to a repertoire of standards from Cole Porter and Rogers and Hart. As coffee and liqueurs were served, the pianist announced a short break while the musicians disappeared off-stage.
Standing up, the President of the Society of Archaeologists introduced the guest speaker; a well-known authority on ancient Persia, who used the occasion largely to bemoan government interference in his fieldwork and the lack of funding for important digs.
Meanwhile, Rebecca had persuaded the waiter to bring her a double brandy.
CHAPTER 40
As the band drifted back on stage, Rebecca’s eyes fixed on the musicians. Then, without saying a word, she unexpectedly stood up, almost knocking over her chair, and made her way unsteadily towards the band. Without pausing, she climbed the steps to the stage, stumbling slightly on the top step, and approached the saxophonist, apparently engaging him in urgent conversation.
The saxophonist looked surprised, but after looking around at the other members of the band, who were laughing indulgently, handed over his sax. Rebecca made her way over to the piano player, almost catching her foot in the microphone lead. Alarmed, the trumpet player leaped over to steady it before it fell.
Saxophone in hand, she put her hand on the piano player’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. He nodded and called over something to the band.
Jim leant towards Larry. “What the hell’s up with her? Have you seen how much she’s knocked back? She’s legless.”
Larry looked concerned. “It must be all she’s been through catching up with her.”
Clutching the sax, Rebecca was stumbling around the stage, trying to find space for herself. As she did so, word seemed to spread like wildfire around the room. Diners nudged each other and fell silent, heads turning towards the stage.
By now Jim was looking tense and grim; but the other diners were looking on with amusement and curiosity.
Rebecca swayed slightly, righted herself and nodded to the pianist. The pianist started to play the opening chords of ‘My Favourite Things’. As the bass came in, Rebecca stood still with her head slightly lowered.
Jim studied his fork, as if he were wishing he were a thousand miles away from the place.
Then, with faultless precision, Rebecca raised the instrument to her lips and hit the first note bang on time. She played on, developing the rich melody effortlessly and with perfect cool. The musicians were now smiling, clearly enjoying the break from routine, while the atmosphere in the room relaxed once more and conversations resumed.
Larry caught Jim’s eye. “Did you know she could play the sax?”
“Nothing surprises me now,” Jim commented.
“She’s almost as good as Eric Dolphy. Almost,” said Larry.
“Who on earth is Eric Dolphy?” replied Jim.
As the band finished, the pianist waved Rebecca forward to take a bow. The room burst into applause and Rebecca looked elated. She presented the sax back to its owner and left the stage, none too steadily, slowly weaving her way back to the table. Larry immediately sprang to his feet and pulled out the chair for her. She sat down to smiles and general comments of congratulation, apart from Dr Neferatu, who appeared noticeably indifferent.
“That was a bit of a su
rprise,” beamed Larry. “Well done, Rebecca.” Jim was still looking bemused.
“Thanks,” replied Rebecca, before gently slumping back into her seat, her eyes closing and her head rolling to one side.
Larry and Jim looked at each other. “She’s passing out,” said Jim. “I’d better take her back to her hotel.”
He helped Rebecca to her feet and guided her, unprotesting, towards the exit. “I’m taking you back to the hotel,” he said firmly.
“All right,” she said, taking his arm.
Jim managed to steer Rebecca out of the building and into his car, putting his arm around her to stop her falling over. She fell into the passenger seat.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Fine,” she lied, trying to get closer to him. He gently eased her away so that he could drive.
The receptionist in the hotel gave Jim a hard look when he asked for Rebecca’s room key. He got her into the lift and almost carried her to her room. As he opened the door, she tottered unsteadily inside and half-collapsed on to the bed.
Lying back, she patted the bed by her side. He caught the scent of her perfume. “Come and sit down, Jim,” she slurred.
“I’d love to, but you need to sleep. There’s a lot on tomorrow.”
“Oh, come on. Please, Jim.”
Putting her hand on his arm, she tugged at his sleeve, until he sat down on the edge of the bed. She snuggled up to him. Jim kissed her lightly on the forehead and tried to get up, but she wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled him on top of her.
With some difficulty, he hauled himself back upright. “Rebecca,” he whispered, running his hand through her hair, “You need to rest.” He showed her the time on his watch and kissed her tenderly but briefly on the lips. “It’s late and we have an early start tomorrow. I’ll see you at breakfast. Okay?”
She put her hand on his arm and squeezed it. “Jim, do you remember that lovely moment in the hotel garden in Hanga-roa, when you gave me that little yellow flower?”