The Feaster From The Stars (Blackwood and Harrington) (9 page)

‘Perhaps there’s some quality to the hair,’ suggested Blackwood. ‘Its lightness and tensile strength, perhaps. It may be easier to manipulate that than the metal of a door latch.’

Sophia nodded. ‘You may well be right, Thomas. It could be using the hair in a similar manner to that in which a spirit uses ectoplasm to interact with the physical world.’

‘And what of its origin?’ asked de Chardin. ‘Could it really be a visitor from a distant planet?’

Sophia gave a grim smile. ‘Or perhaps a distant universe.’

‘A distant
universe
?’ De Chardin shook his head. ‘Good grief.’

‘In any event, detective,’ said Blackwood, ‘I still think it’s time you and I went down into the network to have a look for ourselves.’

‘I’ll join you,’ said Sophia.

Blackwood shook his head. ‘I don’t think that will be necessary.’

Sophia frowned. ‘Why ever not?’

‘It’s far too dangerous. We don’t know what we may encounter down there; I would be much happier if you remained on the surface.’

Sophia’s face flushed with sudden anger. ‘Thomas, I really think –’

Blackwood held up a hand. ‘I’m sorry, but I am responsible for your safety…’

‘I am responsible for my
own
safety, sir! Might I remind you that as Secretary of the SPR, I have conducted numerous investigations of supernatural events? I can assure you that I am quite capable of looking after myself.’

Blackwood glanced at de Chardin, who had lowered his eyes in embarrassment and appeared to be inspecting his shoes. ‘Perhaps we could discuss this later, Sophia,’ he said quietly.

‘Later? You mean, after you and the detective have returned! Thomas, we have not known each other for very long, but even so, I would not have expected this of you.’ She shook her head and regarded him with hurt and angry eyes.

Blackwood sighed. ‘Please forgive me, Sophia, but this is my final word on the matter.’

‘As a Special Investigator for the Crown,’ said de Chardin, ‘Mr Blackwood does have seniority.’

Sophia glanced at de Chardin, and then at the constable, who had returned to his desk and was now looking at them, having heard the exchange.

There was more she wanted to say, much more, for she was angry and embarrassed, and the embarrassment made her even angrier. How dare Blackwood tell her where she could and couldn’t go! She was at least his equal in her understanding of the supernatural, and another pair of eyes down on the Underground network would only increase the speed and efficiency of their investigation.

However, she could see that she had already shocked Detective de Chardin with the vehemence of her reaction, and she had no desire to make a scene in front of him and the constable. And so she took a deep breath and said as calmly as she could, ‘Very well, Thomas. I will accede to your… seniority. Is there anything you would like me to do while you and the detective are down in the network?’

‘As a matter of fact, there is,’ replied Blackwood, clearly relieved that Sophia had chosen not to give full vent to the irritation and resentment she so clearly felt (and which, he had to admit, was entirely understandable). ‘Mr Charles Exeter is the Chairman of the City and South London Railway, which includes the Kennington Loop. The CSLR is at present continuing with its programme of excavating new deep-level tube lines. In view of what Mr Goodman-Brown described, I think it would be a good idea to request an interview with Mr Exeter and see whether his company has uncovered anything unusual recently – anything which might conceivably have caused the entity’s appearance.’

‘What do you mean “unusual”?’ said de Chardin.

Blackwood shrugged. ‘At this stage, I don’t know.’

‘A hunch?’

‘Call it that. But there must be a reason why these disturbances have begun only recently.’ Blackwood turned to Sophia. ‘It would be very helpful indeed if you could talk to Exeter and see if there
is
a connection.’

In spite of herself, Sophia was intrigued by this idea, and so she nodded and replied, ‘Very well, Thomas. I shall ask Sir William to draft a letter of introduction without delay.’

Blackwood smiled and nodded. With an introduction from Sir William Crookes, the President of the Society for Psychical Research, she would have no trouble gaining access to the CSLR Chairman. ‘In that case,’ he said, ‘I suggest that we fall to our tasks without delay.’

While Blackwood and de Chardin headed off to Farringdon Street, Sophia returned to the SPR headquarters and went immediately to Sir William Crookes’s office, where she found him poring over an assortment of newspaper clippings arranged neatly upon his desk.

‘Hello, Sophia,’ he smiled. ‘Do come in.’

‘Thank you, Sir William.’

‘Have a seat, my dear. You look a little flustered, if I may say so.’

Sophia smiled at the observation. Although he was approaching his seventies, Sir William Crookes’s mind was as keen as ever. He had been a close friend of the Harrington family for many years and had been instrumental in helping her to come to terms with the loss of her father during their hunting trip in Canada ten years before. Indeed, he had been the only person with whom she had felt able to discuss their encounter with the Wendigo.

Sir William had observed, and understood, the resultant yearning in Sophia’s heart to investigate the mysteries of the supernatural world, to discover ways of guarding humanity against the darkness while also seeking out the light in order to learn and gain strength from it. Later, he had invited her to join the Society for Psychical Research and had persuaded her to share her singular experience with other senior members, who had had no objections when he suggested that she be appointed Secretary following the departure of Dr Henry Armistead to pursue a lecturing opportunity at Brown University in Providence, Rhode Island.

Sophia owed Sir William a great deal, and now, as she regarded the elderly scientist with his high, noble forehead, neatly-trimmed white beard and carefully-waxed moustache, she found herself wondering, as she often did, whether her father might one day have looked a little like this, had he been allowed to grow old…

‘I suppose you could say I
am
a little flustered, Sir William,’ she sighed.

‘Why? Whatever is the matter?’

‘Mr Thomas Blackwood is the matter,’ she replied.

Sir William caught the huffy tone of her voice and chuckled. ‘And what has he done to annoy you?’

‘He has forbidden me from accompanying him and Detective de Chardin into the tunnels of the Underground. He says that he is responsible for my safety, and that the potential danger is too great. I mean…
really.
’

Sir William’s chuckle became a soft laugh. ‘Well, I suppose that’s understandable…’

‘Sir William!’

He held up his hands in a gesture of placation. ‘I merely meant that he does not know you as well as I do, and he has yet to appreciate the great resilience and resourcefulness which you possess.’

‘I would have thought that my contributions during the affair of the Martian Ambassador would have convinced him of that.’

Sir William gave her a warm, sympathetic smile. ‘Sophia, we are living in a remarkable age: an age of astonishing advancements in virtually every field of human endeavour, and yet, there are certain aspects of the human personality, the
emotional
aspects, which sometimes have trouble keeping up with those of the intellect. I’m quite sure that Mr Blackwood has every confidence in your abilities, both in your capacity as an investigator of the supernatural and as his colleague. But that confidence does not yet have the power to overcome his innate desire to protect a young lady from harm and to recoil from the idea of placing her in a potentially dangerous situation unnecessarily. It is an attitude I wholeheartedly disagree with, since I know you so well, but it
is
one which I can understand.’

Sophia sighed as she took his words in. ‘I suppose you are right,’ she said.

Sir William’s smile broadened. ‘But you remain unconvinced: a properly scientific attitude in the absence of further supporting evidence.’

They both laughed.

‘In any event,’ he continued, ‘how is the investigation going?’

‘We have made some headway,’ Sophia replied, and she proceeded to summarise what she and Blackwood had learned and theorised so far.

‘Good,’ Sir William nodded. ‘I have been doing a little investigating of my own. Come around and take a look at this.’

Sophia joined him and saw that underneath the newspaper clippings there was a large map of the Underground network. Sir William moved the clippings aside to reveal an irregular pentagon which he had drawn on the map and which encompassed a substantial swathe of Central London. The five corners of the pentagon were at Farringdon Street, Paddington, Aldgate, Kennington and South Kensington Tube Stations, while the lines connecting them passed through Bond Street, Covent Garden, Bank, and Elephant & Castle.

‘These are the locations of the disturbances,’ Sophia observed.

‘Indeed they are.’

Moving in a clockwise direction, Sir William pointed to each of the stations he had circled.

‘Farringdon Street, where the ghost of a thirteen-year-old girl has been seen and heard screaming. It is widely believed that she is Anne Naylor, who was brutally murdered by her seamstress in 1768.

‘Paddington. Strange noises have been heard in the tunnels here, by fluffers and maintenance workers, apparently coming from behind the walls.

‘Bond Street. Something pale and shapeless has been seen moving along the metals at night. It vanishes when approached.

‘Covent Garden. A tall man in a frock coat has been seen walking along the tunnels. He bears a striking resemblance to William Terriss, the actor, who was stabbed to death near the Adelphi Theatre in the Strand a couple of years ago.’

‘I remember that,’ said Sophia. ‘A terrible, tragic business.’

‘Well, it appears that Mr Terriss has yet to take his final curtain call. But to continue: Bank. This is where Sarah Whitehead, the so-called “Black Nun”, has been seen on several occasions. Sarah’s brother Philip was a cashier and was executed for forgery in 1811. Up until a few weeks ago, she was only seen very rarely, but now workmen encounter her virtually every night, wandering the platforms, apparently searching for her lost brother.

‘Aldgate. The site of one of the largest plague pits ever discovered in London, and now the scene of several disturbances, including something invisible moving the ballast around the metals and an old woman who walks along the tunnels, apparently looking for something or someone.

‘Elephant and Castle. Here we have the testimony of several witnesses who claim to have seen a young woman walking at night through the carriages of trains at the terminus of the Baker Street and Waterloo Railway. When she is pursued – for we know that passengers are not allowed on the network once it closes for the evening – she cannot be found. Her presence has triggered several track searches, but no trace of her can ever be discovered.

‘Kennington. The site of the recent disturbance, to which poor Mr Morgan was a witness. He is still under observation at Bethlem, you say?’

Sophia nodded.

‘And finally, South Kensington, where a ghost train has been seen on several occasions. The train is of the steam-driven type and has been seen pulling into the station, accompanied by an ear-piercing whistle. The driver, in reefer jacket and peaked cap, can be seen leaning out of his cab, before he and his train vanish into the tunnel.’

‘Fascinating,’ Sophia nodded. ‘But why have you drawn these lines connecting the sites of the disturbances?’

‘I was trying to see if I could discover some kind of pattern to the geographical locations…’

‘It looks like you have: the pentagon is quite clearly defined… but what does it mean?’

‘I doubt that the pentagon itself is significant on this occasion – its occult connotations notwithstanding.’ Sir William traced an invisible line with his finger in a south-easterly direction, from Bond Street to Westminster. ‘This is the route of the new deep-level Tube line currently being excavated by the Central and South London Railway. As you can see, it passes directly through the centre of the area enclosed by the five stations I have indicated.’

‘And since the disturbances have recently increased, both in number and intensity,’ said Sophia, ‘you’re wondering whether there is some connection.’

‘Indeed I am – although at this stage I have no evidence.’

‘Do you think that the excavation might have… disturbed something?’

Sir William turned his kindly eyes to her and shrugged. ‘Perhaps.’

Sophia considered this. ‘You may well be right,’ she said presently. ‘Walter sensed something during his contact analysis of the train which went into the Kennington Loop. It seems that nothing like it has ever been seen before.’

‘I know. He gave me his report late yesterday evening.’

‘Thomas was right: I
should
pay Charles Exeter a visit.’

‘The Chairman of the Central and South London.’

Sophia nodded, suddenly recalling the reason why she had come to see Sir William. ‘I need a letter of introduction from you, so that I may be assured of an interview with him.’

‘I shall provide you with one, of course… although I’m not sure whether it will be entirely necessary.’

Sophia gave him a quizzical glance. ‘What do you mean?’

Sir William smiled. ‘If this business really is the result of their excavation, Mr Exeter may welcome a visit from the SPR.’

Blackwood and de Chardin took a police carriage to Aldgate. During the journey east, the Templar detective glanced at his silent companion several times, aware that the Special Investigator was out of sorts. He guessed that the heated exchange with Lady Sophia was still playing on Blackwood’s mind and was unsure whether to broach the subject. He was certain, from Blackwood’s taciturnity, that he would rather not discuss it… and yet, de Chardin found himself intrigued – and, truth to tell, not a little impressed – by Sophia’s indignation, by the forthright manner in which she had expressed her displeasure at being overruled.

As the carriage turned into Wormwood Street, de Chardin finally gave in to his temptation, and said, ‘A most remarkable young lady.’

‘What’s that?’ said Blackwood distractedly.

‘Lady Sophia. I have seldom met a woman of such intelligence and determination – not to mention courage. Have you known her long?’

‘A fortnight,’ was the laconic reply.

De Chardin nodded. ‘I have known her somewhat longer: we have collaborated on several cases in the past… cases with a supernatural element, you understand.’

‘Indeed,’ said Blackwood, who was still gazing through the window at the heave and bustle outside.

‘However, I have never seen her act like that before; she really was most put out…’

‘Your point, de Chardin?’ said Blackwood, glancing at him.

The detective shrugged. ‘I have none… beyond the observation that you might have allowed her to come. This is, after all, her forte.’

‘Are you so sure?’ the Special Investigator asked quietly.

De Chardin regarded him in silence.

‘We have no idea what’s
really
down there,’ Blackwood continued, returning his gaze to the street scene beyond the carriage window. ‘All we know is that it has driven one man insane and may have killed another. That it is supernormal, there can be no doubt, but as to its actual origin, whether supernatural or materially scientific… well, I would rather get hold of some more facts before allowing Lady Sophia to face it.’

‘I understand, of course,’ de Chardin nodded and gave a brief smile, which Blackwood did not notice – and probably wouldn’t have liked much if he had.

As the carriage approached Aldgate Station, Blackwood winced and put a hand to his chest.

‘Are you all right?’ asked de Chardin.

‘Yes, I’m fine. It’s nothing.’

In fact, the Special Investigator had felt a strange twinge which seemed to vibrate in his breastbone, as though he were clutching a stringed instrument to his chest and a note had been played upon it, powerful and melancholy.

The source of the curious sensation was the amulet: it was warning him of the presence of powerful supernatural forces. As if to drive the point home, the carriage clattered to a halt outside the entrance to the station.

The two men descended and made their way inside, where they asked to speak with the Stationmaster, who came across the ticket hall immediately, having noted their entrance. He was a tall, thin, slightly cadaverous-looking man with sallow skin and thinning hair. His heels clicked on the tiled floor, disturbing a silence which usually only descended upon the station when it was closed at night.

The Stationmaster introduced himself as William Jones and asked them their business. Blackwood and de Chardin showed him their credentials. ‘We are here on orders of Her Majesty,’ said Blackwood, ‘with the purpose of investigating the recent events.’

William Jones raised his eyebrows at this, and Blackwood had the impression that he was not a little dismayed at what he evidently perceived to be a new inconvenience in an already complicated day. ‘I see,’ he said, an ungracious tone in his voice. ‘And may I enquire what interest Her Majesty has in this?’