S.O.S

by Will James

  “You want me to trace the light. Is that right?”

  The Colonel allowed himself a small congratulatory smile. This young man was the best; now he understood why.

  “Precisely.” he said. “You have been chosen because you have a very particular set of skills. Your task is to investigate the source of this light. We will aid you in any way that you wish and you will act as you see fit. I want you to find the source of the light and eliminate it.” The Colonel glanced at his watch. “And of course anyone connected with the light.”

  The last sentences were spoken with a coldness that both men recognised. The assassin nodded.

  “You will report to one of our agents, they will take you through the necessary briefing on the science and technology. I have someone ready to take you down to our training centre.” The Colonel glanced behind the young man. One of their best agents was waiting just outside the room.

  “We will meet again before you leave, to discuss the final details.”

  The young man glanced over his shoulder at the waiting agent and then he turned back to the Colonel. The meeting was over. Another handshake was exchanged and he walked silently out of the room, his feet making no noise on the floor as he passed. The Colonel sat back in his chair and for the first time ever in his life felt a slight nervousness at the thing he had just unleashed on the world.

  *

  London

  Molly’s mum, Sandra Sharp, took a deep breath and dialled the number she had looked up earlier in the phone book. She waited nervously for someone to pick up. Molly was out and she held the book of drawings in her hand. The ringing tone went on for ages and her heart began to hammer in her chest. If Molly knew she was doing this it might ruin whatever relationship they had left. Come, come on, she thought, pick up. She didn’t know when Molly would be back.

  “Good afternoon, Child Adolescent Mental Health Services. How may I help?”

  Sandra breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, good afternoon.” she said, her voice slightly shaky. “My name is Sandra Sharp and I’d like to speak to someone about my daughter.”

  “Okay.” There was a tapping on the end of the phone as the operator inputted some information into her system. “Can I take a name, address and date of birth please?”

  “What, mine or Molly’s?”

  “Your daughter’s please?”

  “Oh, yes right.” Sandra listed Molly’s details.

  “And what seems to be the problem?” the operator asked.

  Sandra looked down at the drawings in front of her to steel herself for what she was about to say.

  “A while ago my daughter began acting strangely,” she began, her voice choked and tight with emotion. “I first suspected drugs, but then I was tidying her room and found her diary open on her bed. It was full of drawings of her being tormented by shapes, each drawing slightly different but each with the same subject.” She paused then, allowing the person on the other side of the phone to take in the information. “Then I heard her talking to herself the other night, and I taped the conversation. It seemed as if she really believed she was talking to someone.” She waited with bated breath for the reply. There was a frantic tapping on the other end.

  “So we’ve got hearing voices and disturbing drawings, is that right?”

  Sandra was surprised to have it so neatly described. She wasn’t sure if it was reassuring or distressing.

  “And your daughter is sixteen, is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And is she a danger to herself or to others at this moment?”

  “No, at least I don’t think so.”

  “Right then; we have you in our database now and someone will contact you in the next forty eight hours. I have put down the number that you are calling from as the one to contact you on and I haven’t got you down as an emergency. Are you happy with that status?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  “Good. Thank you for your call Mrs Sharp. Was there anything else?”

  Sandra wanted to talk; she wanted someone to tell her that Molly was all right and that she wasn’t going mad and that she had been right to go through her room and look at her drawings, but she wasn’t going to get any of that.

  “No, nothing else,” she said. “Thank you.”

  She replaced the receiver and sat down on the chair in the hall.

  The call had been made and Molly was now in the system. It was a start. Sandra felt more secure, safer now that was done. But Sandra had no idea that the database, stored somewhere up in the ether, with all the personal details of Molly and her voices, was now accessible to anyone with the right tools and the right skills to hack into it. Anyone...

  CHAPTER 6 - London

  The ferry cut through the iron grey waters of the Thames, forging a path in the miserable winter river. The rain beat down on the boat and the passengers sheltered inside, looking out at London through grime streaked windows. Tourists busied themselves with their maps and travel guides, disappointed to see the passing buildings only behind the curtain of rain.

  Molly was on her way to meet Dev from work at the Greenwich Observatory. She wasn’t interested in the views; she sat, head down, reading an old copy of the Metro that she’d found discarded on the seat next to her. Lazily she flicked through the paper, reading a story about benefit fraud or skimming a match report from a recent football game. Neither particularly interested her. Bored, she thumbed through to the centre pages, her green eyes scanning over them, seeking a something to capture her attention.

  She was just about to give up and chuck the paper away when her eye caught a small column towards the advertisement section. It was a case report on the mugging of a priest. The attackers had been apprehended the report said, but the next line made her frown. She was suddenly transfixed. Each man had claimed to have seen an odd light that had blinded them, foiling their attempt to rob the clergyman. That was very strange she thought to herself. She decided to keep the article and tore it out to show Dev later. The boy beside her, who was staring at the view, heard the ripping noise and looked round to face her.

  “What are you doing?” Zack hissed. Molly shrugged in response.

  “OK, don’t tell me, suit yourself.” He tried to look at the article she was holding, but he wasn’t very good at reading and the print was small. He folded his arms and looked at her. “So why do we have to go visit your boyfriend anyway?” he asked petulantly.

  “We? No one asked you to come!” Molly shot back. “And he’s not my boyfriend.”

  Zack rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he said irritatingly. He looked away and said in a small, needling voice; “He’s not my boyfriend, he’s not my boyfriend...”

  “Shut up!” Molly snapped.

  The man on the seat on front of her turned round.

  “Oh, sorry, not you,” she said quickly, “I was talking to myself.”

  The man got up and moved.

  *

  Further along the boat sat Father Tom on his way to the Greenwich Observatory on a mission of discovery. The strange symbols that had appeared in the church were spread on a piece of paper in front of him, resting of his knees. They seemed to him to look like star patterns, though he couldn’t for the life of him work out which stars they could be. After hours futilely spent trawling through hundreds of photos of constellations, he had decided to seek professional help. The nearest place that he could think of had been the Royal Observatory and now he was on his way, trying to find some answers.

  The boat docked at Greenwich pier and Father Tom joined the queue to disembark. He was behind a small group of tourists and ahead of a young girl with flame red hair. She stood out as she seemed distracted, almost as if she wasn’t alone and it puzzled Tom; there didn’t seem to be anyone with her. He made his way up towards the Royal Observatory, to the South building, following the tourists, battling against the rain with only a rain coat and no umbrella and lost sight of the girl on the way. He went into the Astronomy Centre and wandered aiml
essly for a while, looking at the space exhibition, fiddling with the interactive parts, ambling without finding out anything that he wanted to know.

  *

  Dev loved his job. He worked part time at the Royal Observatory, just assisting in the Astronomy Centre, but he loved to get involved with the kids and answer questions and talk about Physics whenever the opportunity arose. He knew that the other people who worked there avoided him because they considered him weirdly geeky, but he didn’t care. He loved just being part of the Weller Space Galleries, staring at the meteorite 4.5 billion years old and watching endless videos of the unfolding cosmos. He liked to watch the people too, see them baffled at first then excited as they began to understand the exhibitions and have some idea of the expanding universe.

  Today he stood and watched them file through. There had been a school party who he’d helped discover the secrets of ‘Anvilled stars’ and now he was watching a priest – an old guy – at least he looked old to him – wandering around, looking at the exhibition, obviously trying to figure out something that was beyond him. Dev smiled; Adam and Eve possibly? He flicked his gaze across the room and coughed as two teenagers began touching the screen. They looked up and he shook his head. They moved on.

  “Excuse me, but I was wondering if you’d be able to help me?”

  The voice sounded tired and frustrated behind Dev and he turned, having to look down slightly at the man who had asked the question. The priest. Up close he looked younger than he did from a distance and he was smiling.

  “I’ll give it a go,” Dev said. “What did you want to know?”

  “Something about...” Father Tom pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of his raincoat. “This!” He held it up and Dev leant forward to look at it. “I haven’t a clue what it is, but it looks like some kind of constellation to me.”

  “May I?” Dev took the paper and turned it upside down. He stared at it for several minutes. “Where did it come from?” he asked.

  “My church,” Tom said. “I discovered these symbols drawn onto the wall of my church last week, probably by some vandal, but they fascinated me.”

  “Hmmm...” Dev was staring and thinking hard.

  “I’m curious to know what they mean; they seem an unusual thing to graffiti. Do you think they could represent a star sign?”

  Suddenly Dev’s face changed. “Hang on, erm...?” He looked at the priest.

  “Tom, Father Tom.”

  “Hi, I’m Dev. Can you hang on a minute Father Tom, I think I know what this is!” Dev strode off with the paper in his hand.

  Ten minutes or so passed and Father Tom stood conspicuously to one side of the gallery. He watched the steady stream of people pass through and wondered if he’d done the right thing in giving his piece of paper to the young man.

  “I’ve got it I think!”

  Tom looked up to see Dev hurrying across the Astronomy Centre towards him.

  “Sorry I took so long, but I had to check it. I thought it might be, but I wanted to make sure. This is the constellation of Pyxis,” he said. He handed the sheet to Tom. “Pyxis is a constellation introduced by the French astronomer Nicolas Louis de Lacaille in the 18th century,” he went on. “Its name is Latin for the mariner’s compass.” Dev’s face was shining with knowledge of discovery. “Whoever drew this on your church wall knows their stars. It’s quite obscure, but beautiful!”

  Father Tom felt baffled. He looked down at the symbols and then up at Dev. “But why would anyone draw something like this on my church wall?”

  Dev shrugged. “Some graffiti artists are quite complex. Think of that one who leaves political messages all over the place. What’s his name? Antsie?”

  Tom smiled. The boy knew a great deal about stars, but less about art. “Banksy,” he said, “although I’m not sure this is a statement of any kind.”

  Dev caught the eye of his superior. He said, “Look, I’d better get on. I’m supposed to walk the gallery space and check on things. If you want to chat a bit more I finish in ten minutes. I only work the morning shift.”

  “OK, that would be nice. We could have a coffee if you like?”

  “Cool.” Dev held out his fist and Father Tom touched his knuckles with his own. He smiled and walked away.

  *

  Father Tom decided to walk around and explore the observatory a little more rather than go back outside into the rainstorm. The place seemed interesting enough as he wandered languidly from one room to the next, examining instruments and strange looking dials, but one thing was puzzling him. What connection did his church have to stars? He just couldn’t think of any.

  When ten minutes were up, he turned, and made his way back to the entrance where he saw the tall teenager chatting animatedly to the same flame haired girl he’d seen on the boat. Tom had an excellent memory for faces; it was names that always caught him out. Dev raised his eyes and noticed Tom lingering and waved him over to join him and his friend.

  “Hi,” he said, “this is my friend Molly. She’s come to meet me from work. I didn’t know so it’s a nice surprise!” He smiled at the girl and her return smile was genuine and lasting.

  “I had nothing else to do,” she said.

  “Well it’s still a nice thing to do, to come all the way out here to see me.” Dev couldn’t stop grinning and Father Tom smiled with him; his happiness was infectious.

  “You don’t mind if Molly comes for a coffee with us, do you?”

  “Not at all.” Father Tom smiled warmly and they braved the weather, making their way across to the Observatory’s café.

  Once settled, Tom took the piece of paper out again and laid it on the table.

  “What I can’t figure out,” he said, “is why someone would draw a constellation. I know, like you said Dev, some graffiti artists can be imaginative, but it just seems a bit odd.”

  Molly looked at the priest. Her sixth sense was beginning to prickle. There was something he wasn’t telling them; something odd behind his concerns.

  She glanced at Dev and then at Zack. Dev seemed oblivious, launching into a dialogue on stars and how the planets relate, but Zack seemed to be picking up the same curious feelings that she was getting.

  “He’s hiding something,” Zack said.

  Molly looked over at him; she gave him and almost imperceptible nod.

  “He hasn’t really explained how he found the symbols or where they were exactly in the Church,” Zack went on. “You should ask him.”

  Molly frowned over at him. Sometimes he was too intrusive; he didn’t know when to shut up.

  Zack stood up and walked round Father Tom, bending in close to scrutinise his face. Tom scratched a tickle on his nose.

  “It’s a bit strange if you ask me...” he said.

  Molly coughed and made a shooing motion with her hand. Zack came round to her side of the table. “GO AWAY!” she mouthed, when Dev had his head down over the bit of paper with the drawing on it. Zack shrugged. Molly tried to involve herself in the conversation and ignore him.

  “Was there anything else besides this?” Dev asked.

  Father Tom shook his head.

  “Did anything odd happen that could explain this?” Molly asked.

  Again Father Tom shook his head, but Molly picked up the sense again that he wasn’t being honest.

  “What was it drawn on the wall with?” she asked.

  “It wasn’t,” Tom said, “it was etched, like someone had scratched it on.”

  “Really? That’s weird.”

  Father Tom nodded and began to fold the piece of paper up.

  “Well, apart from telling you everything that I have about constellations,” Dev said, “I’m not sure what else I can add.” He finished his cappuccino and looked at the old priest.

  “You’ve been excellent,” Tom said, “and you’ve done quite enough. Thank you.” He got to his feet and stuffed the bit of paper down into the pocket of his raincoat again. “I won’t keep you young people any longer,” h
e went on, “I am sure you’ve got lots to talk about.” He held out his hand and Dev shook it – no knuckle touching this time.

  “Where’s your Church?” Dev asked.

  “Other side of London; it’s a bit of a trek really. Camberwell.”

  “That is a trek,” Dev said. “Take care.”

  They watched Father Tom as he made his way through the tables to the exit where he turned and waved before he disappeared. Molly turned to Dev.

  “I’ve got something to show you,” she said, handing him the paper. “Have a look at this. I was reading it on the ferry over and thought it was the strangest story.”

  Dev opened the article and scanned the text.

  “Celebrity bust up in the West End?” He looked at her puzzled.

  “No, no down there, in the corner. That article about the robbery at the...” Molly stopped and looked at Dev. He read and then looked at her.

  “You don’t think it’s...”

  She shrugged. “Nah. That would be too....” They both re-read it again and looked at each other “Weird?”

  Dev stood up. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’re going to find Father Tom and ask him.” Dev was already striding out of the café and Zack was right behind him. Molly had to run to catch him up and she elbowed Zack out of the way.

  “See? I told you it was strange,” Zack said. Molly glared at him and went out into the rain after Dev.

  Down at the pier, both wet, they stood and watched the boat as it moved off. They had just missed it and the chances were that Father Tom was on it.

  “It probably wasn’t him,” Molly said.

  “No.”

  “But it is odd; the idea of the light and stuff and then the symbols on the church wall.”

  “Yes.”

  “And it was in Camberwell.”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you going to say anything other than yes or no?”

  “No.” Dev turned. “Look Molly, it probably doesn’t mean anything even if it was Father Tom. It is probably just a funny coincidence that he turned up here today and we read about him in the paper.” Molly nodded, but she could see Zack out of the corner of her eye shaking his head and rolling his eyes.