by Joel Jenkins
Furthermore, I have found no evidence to link Roth and his group to the other criminal activity that our department has taken notice of recently in Mount Airy. As we know, that cabal is made up primarily of oriental nationals and seems to be operating in the denser areas of our town. Though there is the Similarity of the drug trade between Roth and this other group, I have uncovered no ctual narcotic movement from Roth to this date.
This ends my report. Until such time that you recall me, I shall continue to investigate Robert Roth and his activities.
6
Things happened at a rapid pace after that. Having recognized the men as former colleagues of mine, I attempted to parlay with them. That was a mistake. My edge in dealing with such matters had obviously grown dull after ten years of hiding from my old master.
Still, the sight of me stepping out of the ante-room was enough to put an end to their shooting at the ghostly figure coming down the stairs. It disappeared as quickly as it appeared and Sgt. Janus came down the stairs in its place, frowning at the men.
I asked them what they wanted. To my surprise, they wanted me and not Miriam.
“You have been away for far too long, Thomas,” said the leader, who I knew as Cho-Soung. “He requires your presence once more at his side. Ten years is long enough for you to have been reacquainted with the notion of freedom—but, as you well know, freedom is an illusion. We are here to bring you back to where you belong, to he who owns you, body and soul.”
Sgt. Janus said nothing, but I could feel both strength and a calming air emanate from him, helping me to face the intruders in his home. I stammered out Miriam’s name, asking what part she played in it all. The Cho-Soung laughed, a cruel sound to my ears.
“Your wife?” His brow creased in slight confusion. “Why, Thomas, no part at all. She has played her part long ago. He is quite done with her.”
“You mean her death?” I spat at him, the pain from her murder still a dull ache in my heart, even after all these years.
“No,” he replied, “her life.”
“I think I begin to see it,” said Sgt. Janus, stepping up beside me, placing a firm, steadying hand on my shoulder. “Your master is responsible for the spirits that drove her to the edge of madness.”
The man nodded matter-of-factly, looking upon us as if we were children who had stumbled upon a fact that everyone else already knew.
“A portal,” continued Janus grimly. “A gate. A spirit-gate. She told me as much, but I did not understand at the time. Your master used her natural talents as a spirit-gate when she was a child to converse with the dead. And for the rest of her life she paid the toll for his…his bloody crime.
“How dare he?”
Suddenly Janus’ voice was as loud as a hundred voices, all shouting at once. It rocked me backwards, almost off my feet.
My former colleagues did not fare as well; they were sent sprawling, bowled end over end. The walls shook, the ceiling swayed, plaster fell, somewhere a window cracked and shattered. The reverberations from the shout lasted for a full minute—my ears ached for hours afterwards.
Janus came rushing upon them where they lay like a banshee. Looming over the three men, it seemed as if he was sucking all the light out of the air and into himself. I could not see his countenance, for he was facing them and away from me, but it must have been horrible indeed: their own faces were twisted into masks of fear and loathing.
“I have a message for your doctor,” Janus bellowed, deep and sonorous. “Oh yes, I know who he is, as I have been watching the devil from the corners of my eyes for many years. From this moment on I shall have all of my eyes upon him and all that he does.
“Tell him this is finished. Tell him that Thomas Tan and his wife are under my care.”
The men’s faces blanched. They scrambled to their feet and backed away from Janus, visibly shaking. Finally, they were through the door and gone from our sight. Janus issued one last message, this time as a whisper:
“And tell your doctor that he shall pay one day for his heinous crime…”
I sat there for what seemed an eternity. The sun set and still I continued to sit. Much later, Sgt. Janus appeared at my side once more and crouched down to force me to look him in the eye.
“Come, Thomas,” he said kindly. “Miriam awaits you. You must now free her.”
6
My dearest, lovely Thomas,
I write this on the occasion of our wedding, a day I have longed for since the moment I met you and one I will cherish all my remaining days.
I must write this now, while I still feel myself. Though in a matter of a few short hours we shall be married, there are things I wish to set down now, so that later, when I may not feel well, you may read them and know my true thoughts.
You have become my family, my darling, for I have had none previously. For this I shall be eternally grateful to you. Whatever life I led before this day, whatever I may have done, it is all behind me. Nothing matters more than our life together beyond this day.
You have cared for me when I have been ill and you have promised to care for me in the future. This means more to me than you can ever know, for it speaks of your unending capacity for sympathy and love, to take pity on me and my strange ways. For this you have sacrificed some of your freedom, though I know that you say it is not so. I know better, you see, for I know your heart and you mine.
I do not ask you to tell me of your life, of the things you do to provide for us and keep us safe and sound. That is your business and I as a good wife will never question it. You do what you see as right and I will forever be there to welcome you home each day. When it is dark, I will be your light. When you require solace, I will provide it without question.
“Come, Thomas, Miriam awaits you.”
There is one thing I ask of you, on those nights when we will lie together as husband and wife and I am myself: do not ask me of my memories before we met. You have seen my pain, glimpsed it on many occasions, and you have remained silent. Please, my dearest one, hold that silence, I beg of you.
Someday, when the last trumpet sounds and we look upon each other on another plane, deep in the arms of our Creator, then we shall talk of many things. Until then, know that I love you and that I am devoted to you and that beyond my illness stands a woman who is yours forever more.
Eternally,
Miriam
6
As we raced through the darkened corridors of Janus House back to the Room of Visitation, I asked Janus how it was that my former employer and his servants knew of my poor Miriam—as far as I could determine, he had never met my wife nor gleaned her existence.
“He may have been manipulating events all along,” said the Sergeant with a heavy sigh. “For years, in fact. He may have arranged for you to meet Miriam, for some nefarious purposes of his own. I have a good friend in the constabulary who will look into it if I ask him to…he and the Doctor have met before.
“Now, here we are at the Room once again. Miriam needs you, Thomas. Apparently, an old link still exists between the Doctor and her—you must stand between them and break that link.”
“With what?” I asked.
“With your great love for her,” he replied.
I think, at that moment, that I began to understand a small portion of what it is exactly that Sgt. Janus does. With his unswerving love for humanity, he breaks the ties between here and…the other place, and sends souls onward to their true rest. But though I was filled with that revelation, my frustration over being manipulated for years remained hot in my blood.
“Why did Miriam not tell me?”
Janus looked upon me kindly. “She could not. Her madness, you see. It must have been Hell on Earth for her, but now, you have the opportunity to right that terrible wrong.”
He opened the door to the Room and we both stepped inside. It was exactly the same as I had left it. Moving across the Room I immediately took the chair that I had vacated only an hour before and looked up at Janus for direction. He
seemed pleased that I needed no urging to proceed.
“Miriam will come to you once more,” he said, moving about the Room and touching several objects, seemingly making minute adjustments to them, perhaps not unlike tuning a radio. “You are the key to her imprisonment. You are the light she will follow to find her way back to the path.”
I told him that Miriam had always said she was my light.
Smiling sadly, he walked behind my chair and out of my view. I heard a door open, much as I had before in the Room, but again I wondered at that—there was no other door save the one that I could plainly see, the one through which we had come not minutes before.
Then, Miriam sat before me again, this time not taking the chair opposite me, but kneeling at my feet, her head resting upon my knee and one hand stroking my leg. Oh, I nearly cried with anguish!
“Now, Thomas,” came the voice of Sgt. Janus, bodiless and ghost-like, “break the link.”
“But how?” I wailed, feeling the madness that crawled through Miriam in life, now through her shade that sat before of me, lovely in its form. I wanted to reach out and touch her, but I remembered what she had said before: I could not physically embrace her.
“Part of you still works for him. Reject it. Reject him. Break the link.”
I looked down at my wife, my poor, lost Miriam. My feelings for her were clear, clear as cut crystal. My feelings toward my former master were clear—or so I thought. I believed that I had cut my ties with him ten years ago, but I saw then that all I had severed was what existed in the material world. My soul still rested in his hands.
Drawing on my still-heated love for Miriam, I reached out with my mind and cut the ties. I broke the link.
“Miriam!” I cried out. “He cannot—will not—hurt you further! I will not allow it!”
Janus’ voice filled the room, strength in audible form.
“Go thee to thy rest, oh shade. Thou hast served well in life, now take thy reward…”
Unable to control myself anymore, I reached out to touch Miriam, but she was gone.
And, I knew with a certainty, no longer lost.
I sat for a long time in that chair in the Room of Visitation, a part of me hoping that her ghost would return to me, somehow. Then, after many hours, I got up and rejoined Janus in his front parlor. When he saw me enter the area, he smiled and clapped me on the back, his sympathy evident despite his lack of words. I thanked him and told him I should be finding my way home, though I was unsure how I would achieve that goal, being without a motorcar or other transportation.
In the end, the Sergeant insisted that I borrow his own auto. He made his apologies for not accompanying me, but he needed to stay at the house and continue to supervise its “cleaning.” He would send someone around later to pick up his car.
The car turned out to be a brand-new Hudson Phaeton. Driving it served to alleviate some of my depression.
As I rode along, down the long drive from Janus House and then turning onto Raynham Road, I looked out at the beautiful snow all around me and finally felt free. Free for the first time in decades, since my childhood to be precise. I felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted off of me and that I could finally breathe.
It was over.
Or so I thought right up until the very second the other car appeared out of nowhere and crashed into me, sending the Phaeton tumbling over and over and down into a ditch…
6
22 November
I have sent my servants to attend to the matter of Tan, though they have not yet returned from that task. I have readied my laboratory for surgery in anticipation of their arrival. In the meantime I have turned to other matters that require my attention.
The diabolists have been dealt with, as children are dealt with by a parent. They sought to mask their presence in this town from me, but their actions were clumsy and juvenile. Their cult was still young, though they felt as if though they had toiled at their preparations for a lifetime. In the end its destruction was simple and with little effort on my part. The local police force will find their agent’s corpse soon and the priests of St. Barnabas will find a tidy sum in their tithing box.
I must commend the diabolists on one score, though; they have illuminated a source of great occult strength in this area of the country, one of which I had not previously been aware. The great flood of earlier in the year brought about some change or alteration to the Hidden World on this plane and in this town. My attention has now been brought to it and I will proceed in identifying it further.
This one called Janus intrigues me. His past is shrouded to me currently, but I have been able to discern some ability in him, a connection to the Hidden World that presently defies explanation, though I concede that it may simply be attributed to narcotics and pharmaceuticals. He refers to himself as a “spirit-breaker”—I am unaware of this term, though further research may yet turn up the meaning behind it. For the moment, Janus exists as a point of interest, nothing more. Should he meddle in my affairs or otherwise concern himself in my activities, then I shall devote more attention to him.
My servants return. I go now to welcome Tan back into my good graces, though there will be, of course, a price he pays for my forgiveness.
6
I am very good at eluding people.
After I was flung from the automobile its fuel tank ruptured and caught fire. The fire covered my tracks, allowing me to crawl through the snow and rest here under the Raynham Road Bridge. The falling snow, now quite heavy, has also served to hide me.
My attackers most likely believed I was dead, trapped in the burning wreckage, but now that the fire has receded they have found no body and are most certainly hunting me once again. I have gained enough time to write this record, but I’m afraid that time is now slipping away, signaling the final act of this little drama.
My old master does not let go of things easily, it seems.
The pain is now excruciating. My heart is behaving strangely; perhaps it will give out before they find me. That would be a blessing.
I am at peace, oh yes! With Miriam safe I can finally rest. No more running, no more hiding, no more looking over my shoulder. I’ll face those I’ve hurt in my life and make my apologies.
Hard to write.
My plan is to place this record somewhere safe, somewhere beyond the reach of the hunters. I hope I can still achieve that—Janus at least will find it of some significance, I’m sure.
I hope.
It has been a long journey, and a strange one.
Ah, the pain! I must stop writing now can barely hold the pencil. Hear someone coming. Wait. There, over the field over the snow.
Miriam.
Miriam walking across the snow barefoot in summer dress I bought her so long ago. She said it was too daring too breezy too much like someone else might wear.
She looked lovely in it. She looks lovely in it.
Her skin radiant. Her smile—oh Lord! Her smile. I had forgotten…
Someone behind her walking with her—Janus? No, gone now.
I am gone
Miriam sweet Miriam her smile kissing me taking paper from my hand
Yes
6
The Mount Airy Eagle
Late Edition – Thursday, November 23rd
Man Found Dead Outside of Town
Body Discovered Near Wrecked Automobile
Early this morning, police found the body of a man who had seemingly crawled from the wreckage of an automobile near the Raynham Road Bridge.
The body was that of a man of mixed Caucasian and Oriental ancestry, approximately thirty-five-years-old and in sound health, and dressed in a dark suit and coat of good quality. There were no apparent wounds from the crash, said a representative from the Mount Airy Coroner’s office, though he had been deceased for some hours. He has not yet been identified, due to the lack of possessions of any kind on his person, save for a well-used pencil found in his hand.
No residents of Raynham Road nor o
f the surrounding area of come forward to offer information on the either the crash or the dead man, said Deputy Police Commissioner Domple.
“We are canvassing the neighborhood,” he reported. “Any individuals with any information should come forward, as is their duty as citizens of Mount Airy. This is a serious matter.”
When asked if the automobile’s owner was known, the Deputy Police Commissioner noted that it was registered to Sgt. Roman Janus of No. 4 Raynham Road, but that the man had not yet been found for questioning. The automobile was a Hudson Phaeton and only a year old and in good repair before the crash.
Deputy Police Commissioner Domple was also asked if he believed the event had any connection with the increase of criminal activity of late in Mount Airy, but he declined to comment on that score.
THE END
Calling Sgt. Janus!
When the invitation to become part of this collection arrived, not only was I honored to be asked, but in some ways it made me feel like Sgt. Janus had “arrived.” How so, you ask? Hasn’t he—at the time I write this—enjoyed two whole volumes of his adventures? Yes, but this book marks his first venture alongside his esteemed colleagues—I’d like to think that it’s a sign of Sgt. Janus acceptance as a peer to the world’s greatest modern occult detectives.
It’s fascinating to me how a small sub-category of Pulp Hero has been taken up by modern writers and not only kept breathing, but infinitely expanded upon, Not content with simply hiking the same paths as such scribes as William Hope Hodgson, Seabury Quinn, Algernon Blackwood, Manly Wade Wellman, etc., new writers are finding new ways to present the Occult Detective trope and thrill an entire new generation with it.
Personally, I couldn’t be more excited by it all. And this volume is proof that I’m not the only one who feels that way.
So, editor Ron Fortier asked me for a new Sgt. Janus tale, but I was a little crushed for time and proposed something else. Over at the Official Sgt. Janus Spirit-Blog (www.sgtjanus.blogspot.com), I’d serialized a Janus story in ten installments and readers seemed to like it. My suggestion to Ron was that I’d take that and expand it to double its length by adding all-new material and sprucing up the rest. He gave me an enthusiastic “Yes!” and I got to work on what would be the very first Janus story to seek its fortunes outside of his own bailiwick.