Redhead

by Ian Cook

  Rebecca was stunned. “Yes, there was a fox as well. It seemed almost friendly. Actually, the caveman turned out to be quite harmless, though he looked a bit scary. I didn’t get the feeling he wanted to hurt me. It was the other two who tried to kill me. They tried to strangle me.”

  After telling them what had happened, she sank back into the armchair. “I don’t think it will do any good at all to involve the police. They’ll just think I’m mad.”

  “That’s up to you, Rebecca,” said Keith. “But we’re very happy you’re staying here tonight.”

  A black cat appeared at the door and jumped up on to his lap. “Tam here will keep an eye on you. Won’t you, Tam?” He stroked the cat until it settled down, purring loudly.

  “It’s raw outside. Right now, I’m going to make us all some broth. Then you can have some dinner with us,” announced Mrs MacGregor.

  Over dinner Rebecca found herself recounting to the astonished couple the whole series of events that had led to her horrific encounter earlier that evening. By the time they had finished eating, Rebecca felt that she was in the company of long-term friends.

  When the grandfather clock chimed ten, Mrs MacGregor stoked the embers of the dying fire. After disappearing for a few minutes, she returned holding a towel and a nightie. “I’ve prepared your room,” she said. “It’s nice and cosy.”

  Rebecca hugged them both. Closing her bedroom door firmly, she parted the curtains and looked out through the window. It was jet black outside. Carefully checking that all the windows were firmly shut, she closed the curtains again.

  Downstairs, Keith MacGregor opened the back door of the house. Tam looked outside and, encouraged by a nudge from Keith’s foot, reluctantly made his way across the garden lawn, as the door closed behind him.

  He was about halfway across the lawn, when a great swooping bird plunged down and seized him by the head. It flew off into the darkness of the night, gripping the cat between its talons.

  CHAPTER 47

  The trees surrounding the Newton Stones swayed gently in the light breeze, and a weak morning sun was slowly driving away the chill of the night.

  Larry and Jim were waiting for Rebecca. She was already ten minutes late. Larry rubbed his hands together for warmth and listened as Jim explained the scientific background to the threatened pole switch.

  “You are supposed to get this weakening in the magnetic field just before the poles switch over. But since the last time the poles switched was 780 million years ago, you could say we’re long overdue for another flip. It happens on average, if you can talk about averages, every 500 million years, but when it does flip, things can happen extremely fast. Apparently, huge magnetic changes have occurred in just a few weeks.”

  He checked the time on his watch. “Where on earth has she got to? Shall I give her a bell?”

  “Give her a few more minutes,” said Larry. “But do you really think there’s going to be a switchover? It seems a bit catastrophic. What about all the incredible disruption it would cause?”

  “Well, there’s also the possibility of partial flips – what they call geomagnetic excursions,” said Jim. “Sometimes the flip is major, but not quite total, in which case the North Pole will move a long way from its original position. The last one like that was only 30,000 years ago. They called it the Mungo excursion, because it was first identified in rocks at Lake Mungo, in Australia. Since then, it’s been detected in rocks all over the world. Geologically speaking, it was just a blip, and it only lasted a few thousand years.”

  “You do seem to be up to speed on it all,” said Larry.

  “I know all this because I was up at six this morning looking it all up,” replied Jim.

  “It sounds like a bit of a potential disaster. Shouldn’t the government be doing something about it? At least warning people about the chaos that could to hit us? Giving us a bit of advice?”

  “Not wishing to belittle their intelligence at all, but the government isn’t too good at science,” said Jim. “It prefers to manipulate the truth, until it becomes self-evident. They don’t get it, and by the time they do begin to get it, it’s too late. It’s the same with global warming. Half the cabinet would be in denial if a switch happened, hoping it would go away.”

  He was looking at his watch again, when they heard a car draw up. “About bloody time,” he said.

  Rebecca rushed up, out of breath and flustered. “I’m sorry I’m late. We were looking for the MacGregors’ cat. It’s disappeared.”

  “Did you find it?” asked Larry.

  “No. It’s probably stuck up some tree.”

  It took a moment for Rebecca to take in the scene, now lit by sunshine and peopled with familiar faces.

  Larry immediately took her arm. “You poor thing,” he said.

  But Jim still seemed cool. “Okay. Let’s hear what happened again,” he said.

  What the hell is up with you? she thought.

  She became agitated as she recalled the events of the night before. “You know it was that weirdo, Neferatu – your friend,” she said angrily. “I couldn’t believe it. He actually tried to strangle me, with the help of his really nasty accomplice – a guy dressed like somebody out of the Bible – complete with sword. Neferatu called him Ikar – I remember that. Mrs MacGregor thought that was who the Sun-Stone commemorated.”

  “Hang on a sec,” said Jim. “Neferatu? Are you kidding? He hardly knows you.”

  “I know it was him. For Christ’s sake, I was close enough to him. He had his horrible hands round my neck!”

  “And why, of all the people on this planet, do you think you qualify for the special attention of Dr Neferatu?”

  “Jim…” Larry interjected.

  “Listen to me,” said Rebecca. “I have done absolutely nothing to provoke all this. I’ve hardly met the man. But I know one thing – he’s spooky. He’s revolting, he smells disgusting, and I want nothing to do with him. But he’s stalking me, and for some reason he wants me dead. And he’s damn well nearly succeeded. Twice. That bird-man priest on Easter Island was him, I know it. It’s unbelievable, but there it is.”

  “Then what happened?” said Larry, before Jim could comment.

  Rebecca hesitated. “I don’t know how to tell you this. You probably won’t believe me – you’ll think I’ve been having a fit or something. Anyway, just as Neferatu was about to do me in, another man appeared. He was dressed like some sort of ancient warrior, somebody very powerful. And I don’t mean fancy dress. He was old, as in antique. And very strong – he had huge arms and shoulders. Neferatu called him Ptolemy. Then he added ‘Soter’, whatever that means.”

  “What!” cut in Larry. “Did you say Ptolemy Soter? He was one of Alexander the Great’s right-hand men. God, he was the Ptolemy who founded the Ptolemaic dynasty in Egypt. ‘Soter’ means ‘saviour’.”

  “I don’t know who he was,” said Rebecca, “but he definitely acted like somebody very important. Anyhow, he saved me – Neferatu backed off just like that. Ptolemy wasn’t the least bit afraid of Neferatu – or his foul friend. After that, I just about passed out. But when I came to – you have to believe me – Ptolemy and the Ikar guy were having a really serious swordfight. All over the place. Not Neferatu, though – he just stood well back from it all.”

  “A swordfight? Ptolemy Soter?” Jim cut in mockingly. “And now I bet you’re going to tell us this Ptolemy Soter won and saved you? You’ve been dreaming, woman.”

  “I’m sorry, but this was real,” snapped Rebecca. “Real swordfight. Real swords. And it happened right here – yesterday evening.”

  Larry walked around the muddy, churned-up grass and crouched down to study it. “Well, something has definitely been going on here recently,” he said.

  “That’s probably us, this morning,” said Jim dismissively.

  “It’s not where we were standing,” said Larry. “And look here – somebody’s been skidding around all over the place. We weren’t crashing around like t
his.” He drew no response from Jim, other than a shrug. “What about the two who had a swordfight? What did they look like?” Larry continued.

  “The one who saved me? He was dressed like a sort of ancient warrior. Like a Greek warrior, I suppose. Except that he didn’t have a helmet. I could see his hair – sort of sandy-coloured red.”

  “What about the other one?” asked Jim.

  “The one called Ikar? He had the same sort of clothes. White, sort of Mediterranean style as well, with bare arms and legs and a short cloak. He was wearing a hat – more like a cap I suppose – white, and pointed on top. He had black hair. And he had a beard as well – it was done in rows of neat curls.”

  “So Ptolemy Soter won the fight and saved you,” said Larry. “What happened after that?”

  “The good guy, Ptolemy, was just about to kill the bad guy. Then the bird attacked him.”

  “What bird?” said Jim.

  “Where did the bird come from, Rebecca?” asked Larry.

  She pointed to the Sun-Stone. “It flew in and landed on that Stone. It was a bit like a hawk. Smaller than the eagle that attacked Jim and me in Orkney, but really evil-looking, if you can say that about a bird. It just sat there, staring at me. Scared me silly.” She wondered again why Jim was so unsympathetic. But at least Larry was kind and understanding.

  “How did Neferatu come to be there?” asked Larry.

  “Well, that’s it, I’m not sure. I never heard him coming. He seemed to just appear, all of a sudden.”

  “You didn’t hear a car?” asked Jim.

  “Oh no, nothing. One second there was no one about at all. The next moment, there he was.”

  Jim raised his eyes in disbelief. “This is all a bit difficult to take. You make it sound as if he just arrived by magic.”

  Rebecca flushed. “Look. I’m not trying to make it look weirder than it was. All I know is that Neferatu wasn’t there – and then he was. And the very next moment he was trying to strangle me with a piece of cord. Dammit, my shoulders are still hurting from the other man pinning me to the Stone.”

  “What happened to the bird?” asked Larry.

  “I don’t know. It flew away, I suppose.”

  “We should call the police,” Larry said.

  “Oh yes, you really think the police are going to believe any of this?” said Rebecca.

  “Dead right,” said Jim.

  “Was there anything else, Rebecca?” said Larry.

  “Yes – so many weird things. I almost forgot about him. Before all this happened, right at the beginning, there was some sort of caveman-like figure, who came out of nowhere and walked right past me. Look, I’m really not kidding. This really happened. I saw him.”

  “So what did he look like? Red hair again, I suppose?” said Jim.

  Rebecca gave him a sick smile. “Actually, yes. As a matter of fact, he did, all over his body as far as I could see. He was wearing some sort of animal skin. He was quite stocky, and he had big bushy eyebrows and a big wide nose. Incredibly strong-looking.”

  “So now we’ve got Neanderthals in Scotland, have we?” said Jim.

  Larry frowned at him. “What happened to him, Rebecca?” Rebecca touched the Moon-Stone. “He went behind the Stone. I know this sounds funny, but he just seemed to disappear. When I looked behind the Stone, he had gone, but there was a fox there. Mrs MacGregor said people with red hair sometimes see the caveman and the fox. She had warned me not to come here.”

  Larry looked intrigued. “I wonder…”

  “You wonder what?” said Jim.

  “It’s just that, if red-haired prehistoric man had a totemic animal, then the fox would make an excellent candidate.”

  Jim shook his head impatiently. “And what happened to the others?” he said.

  “I just don’t know. The one who rescued me disappeared behind this Stone as well. The other guy seemed to vanish, too.”

  “And Dr Neferatu?” asked Larry.

  “He just disappeared as well.”

  “What happened after that?”

  “Nothing else. That was enough,” replied Rebecca.

  “Were you still feeling ill?” asked Jim. “You have been under quite a lot of strain.”

  Rebecca suddenly lost patience. “I might have had the remains of a hangover, if that’s what you’re trying to say, but I was certainly not dreaming all this. It was definitely Neferatu – no doubt about that. And he was definitely trying to strangle me. You don’t make mistakes about things like that, you know. Neferatu is truly nasty, and I’m petrified of what he might do next. Okay?”

  She glared at Jim. “And another thing. His eyes have always been green, right? Well, last night they were brown. But here’s the weirdest thing of all – when he grabbed my hand and wouldn’t let go, they changed back to green again. That’s when I just about passed out. I almost had the feeling he was recharging his own energy by holding my hand.”

  “I’ve never noticed his eyes change colour,” said Jim.

  “Oh, come off it, Jim,” said Larry. “Remember the conference dinner? Maybe his eyes weren’t brown, but they were positively dull. He looked years older. You even commented on it yourself.”

  “So he was knackered,” said Jim. “He travels all over the world.”

  Larry ignored him. “Rebecca – has anything like this happened to you before? Before Easter Island, for example?”

  “No – never!” replied Rebecca emphatically. “It’s all getting completely out of hand, and it’s bloody terrifying if you want to know.”

  “So it seems a lot of your apparitions had red hair. What about the rotting man?” said Jim.

  “He did actually have a little red beard, now you mention it,” Rebecca said.

  “You do accept that, so far, no one else has witnessed any of these things you’re talking about,” Jim persisted.

  “For God’s sake, I did see those things. And Señor Nata and his family saw the same things as me on Easter Island. They told me. Before Señor Nata was murdered.” Tears of exasperation welled up in her eyes.

  “Listen, Rebecca, this is no slur on you, but you did seem to go into a sort of trance that evening on Easter Island,” said Larry sympathetically. “Do you remember what happened before you saw those things at the dinner?”

  “I think I was looking at the carving the old lady was holding. I felt quite mesmerised by it. Then there was all the drumming…”

  “I think that old lady on Easter Island could have been a shaman,” declared Jim. “People do believe that shamans can enter the spirit world. It’s pure superstition, of course. It’s just that they are able to put themselves into a trance and have visions.”

  “Are you saying I’m a shaman?” said Rebecca.

  Jim ignored the question. “And what about this time?” he asked. “What were you doing here at the Stones before you saw these visions, or whatever they were?”

  Rebecca went over to the Moon-Stone and touched the serpent. “I was looking at the Stone. Especially the serpent – I was completely absorbed in it, drawn into it. Wondering who on earth could have carved it. And what it means.”

  “Look, Rebecca,” said Jim, “if you want to know the truth, I think that, somehow, you’ve been going into trances and seeing things. Drumbeats, hypnotic music, fixing your concentration on certain symbols – they are all classic devices for inducing trances. Tell me, do you use drugs?”

  Rebecca felt like screaming at him. “No, I do not,” she retorted. “Nor do I eat magic mushrooms. I’m just a normal person, trying to live a normal life. Okay?”

  Jim deliberated for a moment. “Maybe, just maybe…” he said. “I’m wondering if there’s some sort of connection between all of this and these recent changes in the Earth’s magnetic field.”

  “Now what are you talking about?” said Rebecca, unsure whether to take him seriously.

  “Larry and I were talking about it before you arrived here this morning. It so happens that, at this moment, the Eart
h’s magnetic field is weakening in odd places and letting through a lot of solar radiation. This could be behind what happened on Easter Island. It’s also probably the reason why there’ve been all these strong auroras, and could be why our mobiles packed up in Orkney. It’s very odd that these things you’ve been seeing are coinciding with the weakening of the magnetic field. Maybe it’s affecting the electrical activity in your brain.”

  “But why just me?” said Rebecca bleakly.

  “Not just you. Possibly redheads in general. Perhaps people with red hair have something a bit different in the make-up of their brains,” said Jim, warming to the theme. “Something that makes you more susceptible to changes in the magnetic field.” He stroked his chin as he thought. “Have you heard of fMR imaging? Sorry – functional magnetic resonance?”

  “Oh, do me a favour,” groaned Rebecca.

  “No, I’m trying to help you – really. I’d like to know what’s going on. fMR imaging is a way of monitoring brain activity. We could give it a try, if you like. I know someone who could do it. We would just try to put you into a trance, in a controlled experiment. You’re definitely seeing things we’re not seeing. And this might show us why.”

  Rebecca reacted immediately. “No thank you. Definitely not. You’re mad. I’ve just about had enough of weird and wonderful happenings. Anyway, suppose your friend Neferatu appears again and tries to finish me off.”

  “Perhaps we can find out why Neferatu wants to kill you. And we’d be there, with an expert clinical team. You’d be completely safe – I can definitely assure you of that.”

  “I’m sorry. I really don’t like the idea of people messing about with my brain,” said Rebecca.

  “Well, look at it this way,” said Jim. “You say that people’s lives are in danger, as well as your own. And what about the story you’re doing? Think how much it could add to it.”

  In fact, Rebecca’s thoughts had already been racing in the same direction. “Okay, what exactly does it involve?”

  “It’s completely painless and won’t do you any harm. Loads of people have it done. It’s like a body scan, but only looking at the head. You can see in the scan which parts of the brain are active, because they light up.”