“That is acceptable. In the meanwhile you are going to lie here and rest, and allow your husband to hold you and soothe you.”
“That’s acceptable, too,” Skye grinned, “as long as some of that soothing lands right here.” She tapped her lips with her index finger.
“I should not think of neglecting so effectual a method,” Sherlock noted, eyes crinkling as he bent his head to hers.
* * *
February 9
My bonny comrade in arms, The Woman, My Wife, Lady Holmes, my dear Skye, The Woman I Love. So many names I have for this one being, this one woman I know so well—and yet today she still found a way to shake me to my centre.
For I never dreamed as capable a woman as she would ever utter the words now branded in my memory: “I can’t live without you.” Five simple words—whose import means the world itself. In the three seconds it took her to utter those words, my life was changed forever. She has a way of doing that, my Skye.
I wonder if she knows she is not the only one to have considered the truth of that statement.
* * *
Holmes and Chadwick strongly agreed Skye needed a break, and Sherlock promptly contacted Ryker with a coded message and request for assistance. The next morning the MI5 agent arrived with the military part of his unit, ready to go.
“Righto! You two ready?” he called as their deuce and a half truck pulled up to the door of the cottage. “Got your level 4 MOPP gear already in the lorry. Get your bums into the back with the rest of my mates and the HazMat team from Porton Down, and we’ll help you get into the gear once we get to the site.”
“MOPP gear?” Sherlock murmured, shooting an inquisitive glance at Skye, as they stood in the front door.
“Mission Oriented Protective Posture. Special HazMat—er, hazardous material—suits designed to protect against nuclear, biological, and chemical agents.”
“Ah,” Sherlock nodded, and headed toward the truck. “Excellent. Come, my dear Skye. It is high time. We must ascertain the nature of this situation and contain it.”
* * *
The experienced units were soon in position outside the mouth of the cave on McFarlane’s farm; an additional covert guard was stationed around a small perimeter centered on the cave, to prevent spectators. A quick sweep of the area with a Geiger-Müller counter verified Sherlock’s deductions. The exploration team suited up in full Level 4 MOPP gear with the assistance of the decontamination team, and Ryker himself served as squire to Sherlock and Skye, assisting them into the extra suits the unit had brought for the couple’s use. Grey eyes twinkled with amusement as the detective peered out of his gas mask while Ryker taped down the openings in their suits.
“I shudder to think what ‘my’ Watson would make of this outlandish getup,” he noted with a chuckle. “It would likely give him nightmares for a week. Still, if it prevents us becoming ill, it will be well worth it.”
“Only as long as you don’t get too close,” Ryker warned, affixing dosimeters to a patch of Velcro on the left breast of their suits. “The suits will only handle so much. Too much radiation will still injure or even kill, despite the suits. Remember that. If what’s in there is what I suspect, if it’s what we discussed, this team is trained for it and will take care of it ourselves. You two will stay back, stay out of our way, and watch. By rights we wouldn’t normally be letting the two of you even come with us. But as you’re the principal investigators on the case, we’re bringing you along to make sure you get the data you need.”
“And we thank you.” Sherlock somehow managed to execute a graceful bow, even from within the bulky environmental suit.
“But you DO AS WE SAY,” the captain added sternly. “You are NOT in charge here, not this time. I am. So we do it MY way. That means: NO heroics, NO wandering off, NO leaving the group, NO inquisitive hands on ANYthing. EITHER of you curious buggers. Is that ABSOLUTELY CLEAR?”
* * *
Sherlock blinked at the other man’s vehemence, then glanced at Skye, seeking her reaction. The blue eyes peering through the gas mask were extremely sober as she nodded immediate and unequivocal assent to the MI5 officer.
“That serious?” the detective wondered softly.
“Worse,” his scientist wife responded quietly. “According to the documents we saw, we might not even reach the central source, or we might have only minutes to observe it before having to leave.”
“Min–?” Holmes breathed, astounded.
“Seconds,” Ryker corrected, cutting him off. “Potentially, at least. Remember, for this one time, I’m the superior here, and I give the orders. If I say stop, you stop immediately, right in your tracks. If I say retreat, you turn around and go back. If I yell run, you haul ass out of there. Now let’s go. The two of you, stick with me. I don’t want either of you out of my sight. I’ll not lose two good mates, nor have it said that Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Skye Chadwick-Holmes were lost on my watch.”
* * *
Ryker turned and set off toward the mouth of the cave, signaling his exploration team to get into position with hand gestures.
Immediately behind him, two detectives—one of whom was also a physicist—hurried obediently in his wake.
* * *
Inside the cave, the Geiger counters clicked faster; some two hundred yards inside, as they slowly descended a gradual slope, the clicking became a continual chatter. They rounded a bend in the open tunnel…
…And were met with an eerie blue glow. It reflected dimly off the damp walls of the cave, and filled the far passage with a soft azure mist.
“Cherenkov radiation,” Skye said aloud, awe in her voice. “I’ve always thought it was so…beautiful.”
“You and Madame Curie,” Sherlock murmured, a hint of affection in his tone, his smile hidden by the gas mask.
“All halt,” Ryker ordered. “Readings?”
“Still within limits,” Wang replied, checking the meter on his counter. “Recommend slowing forward speed, however.”
“So ordered.”
“Sir! There’s an opening in the cavern floor ahead!” Huggins called from his position only five feet ahead of Wang, on point. “About… mmm…twenty metres away, I’d say. Looks like the blue light comes from it.”
“Huggins, hold your position. Wang, join him,” Ryker ordered. “Stay with him. Get a reading.”
Wang hurried forward, keeping an eye on his instrument. When he’d reached Huggins’ side, he scanned the other man carefully, then turned toward the opening.
“Skirting the line, sir,” Wang reported. “I’d recommend halting here.”
“Blast and damnation!” Holmes exclaimed in frustration. “So close, and yet unable to see our goal!”
“Sherlock,” Skye said sternly. “No freakin’ way.”
“Skye! It is right there! You cannot tell me you do not wish to see it yourself!” Holmes stared in fascination at the dim blue mist ahead, as if hypnotized.
* * *
Skye shot a meaningful glance at Ryker, warning him of her intent. When he met her gaze and subtly acknowledged her signal, she addressed Sherlock.
“Fine. I’ll go to the edge and look in, and tell you what I see. Then, no matter what happens, you can still finish the investigation.” She turned toward the two men in the lead, determined to prove a point.
But before she could take a step, a tall body materialized directly in front of her. Strong, gauntleted hands gripped her shoulders gently but unyieldingly.
“Your point is made, Skye. But you are not so foolish as all that, my dear,” her husband said quietly from above her, “nor am I. You misunderstand; I am merely frustrated. Let me remind you that frustration does not equal foolhardiness.”
“Good. Let’s get out of here,” Ryker ordered.
The rest of the team, which had frozen at the pair’s reactions, took deep breaths and began to pull back toward the cave’s mouth.
“Don’t worry, Holmes,” Ryker told the detective. “We came prepared for
this possibility. I think I can get you your look at what’s in that hole.”
* * *
Soon they were outside, and the decontamination team was checking out the exploration team, ensuring that no one had been unduly irradiated, nor had they come back contaminated.
“Everyone’s clear,” Murphy called. “You can shed your suits now.”
“Good,” Ryker decided, then ordered, “Gear off. Huggins, you and McGregor get the remote up and in place as soon as you’ve ditched your gear.”
“Yes, sir!” McGregor acknowledged.
Five minutes later Skye and Holmes watched as a squat, tracked robot, bristling with cameras and sensors, trundled its way into the cavern.
“C’mon over here,” Ryker waved them across to the cab of the truck. “We’ve got a video monitor set up to watch.” Sherlock and Skye joined Ryker by the monitor.
“Um, how long is that gonna take?” Skye wondered, waving a hand at the screen. “I mean, to get to the opening where the radiation is.”
“Oh, probably a good twenty minutes, maybe as long as a half hour,” Ryker estimated. “Ol’ Tin Can was made for manoeuvreability, not speed.”
“Uh, okay,” Skye said in a mildly strained tone, glancing around the area in search of a likely clump of bushes. Holmes eyed her with amusement.
“The house is a short walk over that rise, my dear,” he murmured in her ear, nodding his head in the proper direction. “In this locality, it is never kept locked. The, ahem, ‘little scientist’s room’ as you call it, is down the hall, second door on the left. I told you not to drink that third cup of coffee at breakfast.”
Skye shot him a rueful grin. “I’ll be back before the probe gets there,” she informed them, then scurried for the top of the hill and the McFarlane homestead beyond.
* * *
To her surprise, Dr. Victor was wandering around inside when she arrived.
“Oh, hello there,” Skye greeted the man warily. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Is everything okay?”
“Oh, yes,” Victor smiled back. “I came by to make sure James’ things were being taken care of, and to see if there was anything I could do to help. But it seems the neighbours have matters well in hand. Is your husband’s investigation proceeding well?”
“I guess so.” Skye shrugged, pretending ignorance. “I’ve been following him over half the farm today, seems like. I finally told him I had to come up here and, uh, use the facilities.”
“Ah. It sounds as if he’s much like his namesake—very fixated and single minded.”
“Sometimes, I guess,” Skye grinned, trying not to dance by this time. “Um, if you’ll excuse me?”
“Certainly. When nature calls, we can only answer. I’m afraid you won’t find any linens,” he called after Skye as she hurried down the hall. “The local ladies seem to have taken them all off to wash, or something. But I have a handkerchief you’re welcome to dry your hands upon when you’re done…”
* * *
After her bathroom break, Skye did indeed make use of Dr. Victor’s handkerchief to dry her hands.
“Thank you,” she told him politely, offering the damp cloth back to the physician.
“You’re more than welcome, Madam,” he replied courteously. “And now I think I shall depart. I have an appointment in an hour, and I shall just have time to return to my office and prepare for my patient.”
He held the front door for her as they exited together, then Victor walked around behind the house. As Skye made her way through the fields, deliberately meandering in an aimless way as if looking for Sherlock, Dr. Victor’s Cooper Mini emerged from the back of the McFarlane house, sped down the drive, turned left onto the road, and disappeared.
Skye watched him out of sight, then headed for Ryker’s unit.
* * *
Skye was back in plenty of time to see Tin Can approach the pit in the floor of the cave, though she made a point of telling her spouse in detail about her encounter with Victor. Then she, Holmes, and Ryker huddled over the monitor in the truck cab, while the rest of the unit viewed either the monitor the remote controllers were using to guide Tin Can, or another, linked video display in the back of the truck.
Huggins and McGregor skillfully maneuvered Tin Can into a position as close as they dared to the opening, then extended a boom camera out and tilted it to look down. Sherlock’s eyes narrowed, Ryker let out a long whistle, and Skye muttered, “Sonuvagun.”
“That is NOT what I expected,” Ryker noted.
“I can tell it is some very large aeroplane,” Holmes observed, “but what is in its aft, and why is it glowing so?”
“It’s one of the old nuclear test aircraft, I think,” Skye decided. “That’s the only explanation I can come up with, anyway.”
“Righto,” Ryker confirmed. “It’s a Convair X-6.”
“I thought those never made it off the drawing board,” Skye said, surprised. “They really built one?”
“They did here, back in the late 50’s,” Ryker nodded. “Unfortunately they also had a reactor breach. Killed the crew. I knew that was one of the classified little things ‘downstairs,’ but I thought it was a lot further that way,” he made a furtive hand gesture in the direction of the Bentwaters base. “I guess they wanted to get it out, away from the functional part, for the safety of the base workers. I wonder if they realised they’d placed it under private lands. I’m betting not, based on the files I saw.”
“A bit more explanation, and a bit less speculation, please,” Holmes remarked testily. “Are you trying to say this aeroplane was powered by a…what is it called again…nuclear pile?”
“Exactly, Hon,” Skye nodded. “A nuclear reactor. They were looking for a way not to have to refuel the aircraft all the time. But the shielding was a problem—it was a tradeoff, the weight of the shielding for the usable payload.”
“They got it to work, on this aircraft,” Ryker explained. “But it turned out that the materials they used for shielding degraded in the radiation environment a lot faster than they expected. After the containment shield cracked on its fourth flight, and the crew voluntarily sustained fatal exposure in order to land the plane safely on the tarmac at Bentwaters, the project was put to bed—literally. The crew…from all accounts, it was a nasty death.” He shook his head, expression grim.
Skye’s face crumpled in sympathy, and she surreptitiously slipped an arm around her husband’s waist. Upon receipt of the very private message, the detective pressed his arm against her hand. She drew a deep breath, noting, “It looks like they built a containment sarcophagus around it.”
“Yeah, I think they did,” Ryker agreed, “if I remember the report aright. But it doesn’t look to be in good shape now…”
“No, it looks like the Chernobyl sarcophagus,” Skye decided. “If not worse, and probably for the same reasons. Judging from the condition of the aft part of the fuselage, there was a partial meltdown, probably after the onboard cooling system died. So the exposed nuclear fuel is aging the construction material of the sarcophagus at an accelerated rate, and I’m sure the dampness of the cavern above isn’t helping the matter. Looks like the roof just…caved in. Take a look over there.” She tapped the video screen. “Isn’t that a pile of roof debris?”
“It does appear so,” Sherlock agreed.
“Sherlock,” Skye considered, “the instability waves that come through the tesseract when it’s active…are they felt outside the core?”
“I cannot say, Skye. I have felt them when I was with you inside the core, certainly; but I have not noted any earthquakes when I was investigating here and you were at the cottage, working. That does not argue that there were none, merely that I could not detect them.”
“I can check seismic stations, if we need to, Boss,” Ryker offered to Skye. “Is it important?”
“Potentially. If a decent sized quake came through, it might bring the rest of the sarcophagus down around that mess.”
“Ew,” Ry
ker grimaced. “THAT would be bad.”
“Very bad,” Skye agreed firmly.
“I’ll check,” Ryker decreed.
“Good. This is certainly not the sort of thing that should be left to lie, in any event,” Sherlock observed. “Especially if our faux heirs know of it. If they are in search of the radioactive material, that could be ‘very bad,’ as well.”
“It sure could,” Skye agreed. “They could be spies looking for an energy source, or terrorists looking for toxic material, or anything. But then again, that presupposes a knowledge of the situation that we didn’t even have.”
“True,” Sherlock noted. “If even Ryker, who checked the records before coming out for this little sortie, did not know this was here, how would someone not privy to the records know?”
“They couldn’t,” Ryker declared. “They had to be looking for something else.”
“But what else could they think was in there?” Skye wondered. “I mean, even if they’re…I dunno, scavengers or something, they have to have SOME notion of what they’re looking for!”
“That is the question,” Sherlock averred. “But irregardless, we must take action. As I said, it cannot be left so.”
“No,” Ryker confirmed. “It’ll have to be sealed up again. The question is how best to do it…” He paused, then picked up his radio. “Huggins, have Tin Can get samples and readings.”
“Roger,” Huggins’ voice responded.
They spent the rest of the day watching as the agile little robot wormed its way around the sarcophagus collapse, taking readings and obtaining samples for analysis. It was a chilly winter’s sundown by the time they left the area.
* * *
Upon delivering the Holmeses to Gibson House, Ryker followed them inside that evening, intending a brief discussion regarding how best to proceed. It was necessary to handle the matter delicately to permanently seal off the damaged containment sarcophagus without revealing the truth about Bentwaters. He and Sherlock were deep in a discussion of the matter as they entered, and neither man noticed Skye’s flushed face, or the slight shivering wracking her body as she crept about the house, turning on the lights.
The Case of the Displaced Detective Page 103