Agatha & the Scarlet Scarab

by Karl Fish

  ‘Kill us. We already dead,’ the driver announced, spitting at Pop’s feet.

  ‘If you insist,’ Braggan replied, whistling for Luna to join them.

  Passive of nature but terrifying of stature, the wolfhound stood over the cowling man drooling onto his face, her snarling canines on full display.

  ‘Wait, wait!’ the other orderly screamed out. ‘He will kill us if we return without the birds. He will sacrifice us.’

  ‘Who?’ Gideon asked him.

  ‘Dr Mialora!’ they both replied.

  ‘Do you wish to live?’ Gideon then asked them and was greeted with enthusiastic nods. ‘Then you will if you do what we say.’

  *****

  Thompson was relieved that his two most trusted men, Smith and Jones, had weathered the storm successfully after the immediacy of the air-raid. Jones had been left in the shadows of Whitehall’s grounds while his superior had bunkered into the cavernous underground beneath Whitehall.

  ‘I’m glad to see you, Jones,’ Thompson confessed.

  ‘Likewise, sir,’ Jones politely replied.

  ‘Where did you shelter?’

  ‘I headed towards Shaftesbury, initially, towards the company bunker, but by then it was too late, sir. I spotted lower flying aircraft, much lower than usual but they were spotters, not shooters, sir.’

  ‘Explain,’ Thompson encouraged his man.

  ‘Having sped back past the Palace, weaving through the barricades at The Mall, a fighter-plane stalked my path almost like for like. I prepared for the inevitable but it couldn’t have seen me or just wasn’t interested. It must’ve seen Buckingham so I fail to understand why it did not attack. I was convinced it would deploy its machine guns at any moment so I took cover outside of the vehicle hiding myself beneath a tree.’

  ‘So, what did it do?’ Thompson questioned.

  ‘The thing is, sir. In my experience, those airmen usually deploy rounds upon rounds of ammo once they are that low. But this one didn’t. Instead, it had a searchlight and was randomly lighting up targets.’

  ‘Are you sure, Jones?’

  ‘Cross my heart, sir. There was no aerial bombardment, no incendiary devices, and certainly no doodlebugs in that raiding party. It was toothless. Just designed to wreak havoc and remind us the enemy are out there.’

  Thompson paused for a moment, trying to understand such an anomaly. Whitehall was celebrating the least effective air-raid of the war. So why hadn’t the Nazis struck?

  ‘Seeking something you say? Any ideas what?’ Thompson investigated further.

  ‘Well, all I observed was the bomb that headed towards The Department. It was no bigger than an infant, sir. Would never have caused the damage we are used to. It rushed from the skies and destroyed an ambulance truck just south of ’Nums.’

  ‘But by all accounts, failed to detonate,’ Thompson continued pressing.

  ‘Not strictly true, sir. It ignited alright but almost as if the fuse had been pulled partway through. Instead, a huge plume of smoke rose and then like a proper pea-souper, it was misting away throughout the surrounding streets.’

  ‘Lucky then, would you say?’

  ‘Well, of course, sir. But it happened half-a-dozen times according to different witnesses. Do you think the enemy are running out of explosives? Maybe a faulty batch?’

  ‘It’s a nice thought,’ Thompson said amused. ‘But I doubt they would reveal such a position, do you?’

  Jones admittedly did not believe that either and continued driving towards south London. It gave Thompson time to ponder the last twenty-four hours and what they could mean before exhaustion tipped him into a gentle slumber.

  *****

  ‘Look, Aggie,’ Eric enthusiastically whispered, nodding towards the letterbox-sized hole.

  Aggie contorted herself to see the briefest glimmer of moonlight breaking high above them. The celestial beams, though intermittent, were not lost on the suspended magnifier outside. The facets began to reflect and refract the white light through an opaque spectrum and produce a subdued throb of light.

  ‘It’s working! it’s working, Eric,’ she said and laughed.

  ‘Sshhhh!’ he reprimanded her. ‘Don’t want to alert Dove now, do we.’ He smiled back. His humour never lost regardless of their peril.

  ‘Let’s hope someone spots it first,’ Agatha whispered back.

  ‘They will,’ Eric reassured her. ‘I know they will.’

  Still patiently observing the street-scene of the Steep, the cloaked figure had retreated further back into the solitude of a darkened alleyway. Only minutes before, she had seen the two large men overwhelmed by the four locals, their dog and magpie, then bundled into the ambulance truck belonging to the Institute. That was of no concern to her. Her mission was to track the girl. Her patience had now paid off as a chink of light presented itself from the hidden passageway beside the schoolyard. Subtly pulsing in correspondence with the moon, she knew it could only come from one source. The pathway to the hidden bolthole was convoluted but not far. She slipped down the Steep and away from prying eyes.

  *****

  ‘How do you expect me to drive with broke wrist,’ the orderly contested the orders from Pop

  ‘Cos a broke wrist is nuffink compared to a face without eyes.’ He laughed, whistling for his ever-present hound.

  Much to his dissatisfaction, the orderly revved the vehicle and pulled away, terrified at the literal prospect of becoming a dog’s’ dinner. Pop sat next to him with the curved blade pressed to his neck, just in case of any moments of self-doubt.

  In the rear of the truck, Gideon and Nathaniel held their orderly captive as they rumbled and jolted through the winding countryside. Whenever the moon flashed its bright light through, the top of the canvas lit up. You could easily distinguish the large white circle and central cross that differentiated an ambulance to the rest of the military vehicles.

  ‘Draw me a map,’ Gideon insisted to the orderly, holding out a pen and encouraging him to use the side of the canvas duffle bag.

  ‘And tell us about the girl,’ Noone followed up.

  ‘Black hair, down to here,’ the Orderly explained. ‘He will kill her.’

  ‘We’ll see about that,’ Gideon fired back, tightening the restraints on his captive.

  ‘He will kill us all! He has an army!’ the orderly cried out before Nathaniel Noone gagged him.

  *****

  Wilson Bott had just finished reordering the public address system within the Sheriff’s office when an unexpected knock came at his door. ‘Good evening, ladies,’ he cordially welcomed them. ‘How may I help?’

  The gaggle of elderly residents smiled at him and replied in unison. ‘We’re so glad you asked,’ they replied. Before every last one of them forced their way into his tiny workspace.

  *****

  ‘Someone’s coming,’ Eric informed Aggie.

  Agatha looked towards the door, fearing Dove had foiled their plan.

  ‘No, not there; outside. Listen.’

  Eric was right. The tiniest sound of footsteps trying to make themselves unheard edged nearer. They sat back in anticipation, staring at the hole in the wall and the increasing light emitting from the magnifier.

  A ghoulishly skinny hand reached inside and unhooked the pendant from its hanging place.

  ‘Hey!’ Aggie shouted, forgetting about Dove momentarily. She was met with the hooded figure’s eyes through the hole. One was brown one was blue. It took Aggie by surprise.

  ‘Help us. Please, help us,’ Aggie urged, trying to keep her voice down.

  The figure stared back at Aggie and then looked towards Eric and the incapacitated Sister Harvey before leaving.

  ‘Hey!’ Aggie bellowed before Eric advised her to be quiet.

  *****

  Governess Dove’s silence was broken when she heard ‘Hey!’ called out for the first time. Reaching for the case containing both the poison and antidote, she was no longer in the mood for games. How much w
ould incapacitate a young child the size of Eric Peabody to the point his lungs stopped moving she thought to herself as she drew the poison into a needle.

  As she was leaving her governess’s room, a crackling came from the hidden radio, still in its case, and hidden behind the books. A muffled male voice reached out to her.

  ‘Come in, Taube. Over. It is Tuchhandler. Do you read? Over.’

  Dove rushed to the bookcase, removed the radio and placed the headset on.

  ‘This is Taube, I have been trying to reach you. Over.’

  ‘Change of plans, I’m afraid. The Fuhrer insists we maintain control over Suez and, therefore, we must accommodate Mialora. We are satisfied with the Ethereum and plans progress at once. Do you copy? Over. At once. You must move the girl to the Institute immediately.’

  ‘You said people are coming. You said the Germans are coming. I did not expect them in the guise of bombing parties.’

  ‘Nor were they. Plans have changed. That was just a reconnaissance on the way to the capital. They are coming, again. So you must move at once. Do you hear me? Secure the girl and get out of there at once.’

  ‘And the boy, the nun?’

  ‘Surplus to requirements. Do whatever you must. Now, I must go. I cannot return from London but will see you in Cairo. Over and out.’ The line crackled before dying.

  Aggie and Eric heard everything through the brass vent.

  ‘Don’t worry, Aggie. There’s still time,’ Eric insisted as he feverishly rubbed his wrist restraints against the vent. ‘Trust me. There’s still time.’

  *****

  Wilson Bott was crushed backwards into what little space he had as the entire Ambledown WI swamped him.

  ‘Mr Bott,’ came the suspiciously cheery voice of Lady Huntington-Smythe. ‘May I introduce our guest for the day? Ms Erket.’

  The tall lady, cloaked in a gown to the rear stepped forward, towering over her fellow females.

  ‘Good evening, Mr Bott,’ she said and smiled.’ Moving closer to his ear she then whispered into it. ‘You can call me Jennifer.’

  A sharp needle penetrated his wrist vein as the Death-stalker venom incapacitated him. Contorted, drooling, and foaming from the mouth, Wilson Bott succumbed in a crumpled form on the floor.

  ‘One final task, dear ladies,’ Erket announced to her adoring followers. ‘We must find the girl.’

  Chapter 53

  Subterfuge

  ‘Christ, no!’ Thompson blasphemed on seeing the shattered glass of the booth. On closer inspection, the bundled torso of Belle Soames lay motionless on the damp phone-box floor. Thompson dashed to the booth, with splintered glass crunching underfoot. He flung the door open and knelt cradling Belle’s head.

  ‘Belle, Belle, can you hear me?’ he cried.

  Belle’s pallid complexion, her cheeks grazed and bloodied, lips turning blue from the cold were all that he had feared the most. Rotating her wrist, he detected a faint pulse. A huge sigh exhaled from him. As he gently lifted her head, he noticed her crumpled coat beneath. Charred holes, where the bullets would have executed her had she not been observing from the underpass, appeared to him. He rolled the coat and used it as a pillow as he gently manoeuvred her body.

  ‘Ow,’ came the softest of voices. ‘My arm,’ Belle whimpered.

  The limp arm, broken, was now obvious to Thompson. He removed his tie and improvised a sling trying to avoid as much pain as possible. ‘Good news, Belle. We have the antidote for your father,’ he encouraged her.

  The side of her lip curled in satisfactory recognition.

  ‘Picture,’ she whispered, her voice fading. ‘Picture.’

  ‘What do you mean? The photograph? Belle, what do you mean?’

  She mustered the energy to nod and pointed towards Thompson’s pocket. He quickly pulled the photograph out.

  ‘What is it?’

  Her index finger planted itself on the man’s face, before she collapsed, exhausted.

  Thompson reached for the telephone that hung off of its hook just above Belle’s head. Reconnecting it for the dialling tone he spun the six-digit number swiftly.

  ‘Welcome to Fortnum’s. Dial one,’ the message began.

  Thompson dialled eleven immediately.

  ‘Hello,’ came the calm man’s voice.

  *****

  ‘Thank you. That will be all,’ Wink acknowledged Smith as she led Lady James and the ever-nervous Hilary Nevis into the hidden concrete cavern beneath Number Seven, Whitehall.

  ‘Are you OK, girl?’ Wink spoke to Hilary.

  ‘I c-could do with a cigarette. T-t-t-to settle my nerves,’ Hilary stuttered.

  ‘Me too,’ Wink responded.

  ‘Ma’am,’ Hilary replied, shaking as she opened her clutch and offered Wink one of her own.

  ‘I don’t usually go in for pre-rolled, but needs must,’ Wink accepted before ungraciously gnawing the filter off.

  ‘Welcome, Lady James,’ Colonel Malling confirmed with a brief look towards Wink as he joined them in the tunnels. ‘We have a secure room. Please, follow me.’ His outstretched arm directed them towards a door. The room, if it could be described as that, was no more than a cupboard space as the adults squeezed in around a central desk and four chairs.

  ‘Lady James, I need to know all there is to know about your daughter. Start from the beginning. Anything might be important,’ Wink asked.

  Lady James looked at Hilary who nodded in support. Reaching inside her handbag, she produced a small white card, with brilliant red embossing on it. She passed it to Wink who passed it to Malling.

  ‘Oh yes, OSIRIS. We’ve seen these before,’ Malling confirmed.

  *****

  Under the cover of torchlight, the men studied the map the orderly had drawn.

  ‘So, explain again. The rear entrance, the hidden one as you call it, that is a single passageway in and out?’ Gideon asked.

  An affirming nod confirmed the information for the last time.

  ‘It’s suicide to enter via that route,’ Noone advised his friend. ‘We need to find an alternative.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Pop added. ‘Nafaniel, you, me and the hound. We’ll enter by the front, pretend you’re a long-lost patient like before.’

  ‘OK. I’ll take this route, agreed,’ Gideon agreed.

  ‘It’s not safe, Gideon. Not on your own,’ Noone warned him again.

  ‘We cannot leave an escape route, Nate. We must find her. I’ll take my chances.’

  The orderlies’ nervousness was plastered across both their faces. They were terrified and it was not unnoticed. The driver was clutching his broken wrist.

  ‘You carry the box, like before, and once the exchange takes place, your job is over!’ Pop ordered the man who had little choice but to comply.

  ‘Now, what of this army?’ Noone directed to the second man.

  ‘The patients are army, all servicemen. Army,’ he replied.

  ‘They’re ex-army. Is that wot yer sayin’? Not making much sense, are ya?’ Pop angered, grabbing the man. ‘You can come with us too. We need a guide.’

  ‘Very well, gentlemen,’ Gideon finished. ‘We’ll drop you just south so you can approach via the cliff face. Take this duffle. It has all you need; guns, explosives, masks, binoculars.’

  ‘What about you?’ Nathaniel fired back.

  ‘I have these.’ Gideon smiled, producing several handguns, a gas mask and one of the orderlies’ jewelled blades to which the Lady had taken an instant fascination.

  ‘ … not to forget the magpie for company.’

  ‘The Lady, Gideon. You refer to her as The Lady, and you mind you take good care of her,’ Pop reprimanded him before they were on their way one last time.

  *****

  Jennifer James lifted the needle onto the gramophone as static reverberated through the public address system of Ambledown. The residents, returning from their shelter, were greeted with an inaudible screech of feedback before she began to speak.

  ‘S
isters of the Woman’s Institute, bring me your children. OBEY! Bring me your children. OBEY!’

  Repetitively and monotonously, she repeated the words and maintained the pattern until finally, the gramophone’s classical music drowned out her voice and its subdued instruction.

  Her cohorts of the WI began to sway in time to her instructions and repeat her words.

  ‘Bring me your children. OBEY! Bring me your children. OBEY!’

  Leaving Wilson Bott’s office, the WI slowly paced out onto the Steep and spread out in all manner of directions.

  Lady Huntington-Smythe headed towards The Crown where Henrietta was entertaining the Priory set at dinner. Millicent McGregor headed back to the Poacher where Elizabeth was behind the bar serving in her absence. In fact, all the women headed towards their family roosts. Those who were without children canvassed the street and alleyways hoping to find some.

  Once her plan was in progress, Jennifer James stepped out of Wilson’s office and towards the war memorial. The strings of bunting hung in multiple directions from the metal structure of the angel. The bunting, in red, white and blue, suspended ominously down the Steep, zigzagging too, and from the historical iron girdles of the fire society’s nests that sat above homes and shops. Jennifer James lit her final cigarette and reached high into the air lighting a dangling remnant of string that led to the first triangular piece of cloth. A spark of ignition and the material burned as brightly as a fuse before moving to ignite the next string and subsequent triangle of cloth. In turn, that burned to the next string and continued onto the next piece until a chain reaction set the street ablaze. Once a full set of bunting had ignited, the fuses of string continued their journey to the iron baskets. The accelerants deposited there exploded, sending plumes of powdered Ethereum into the sky. The more the bunting burned the increasing number of smoke-clouds were ignited, smothering the Steep in an unholy fog of violet purple.

  Locals ran to their houses to get buckets of water but were powerless at the speed of the fires. Jennifer James returned to Wilson’s office and paused the music momentarily.