Revenge (7) (The Underground Kingdom)

by Steve Elliott

  "I still can't see anything," Thorn complained. "Is he here?"

  "Oh yes," Quina confidently told her. "He's here all right. Well, his spirit is anyway and his emotional state is giving his location away. I know where he lives now. Let's go home." Abruptly, we were jerked back into the hospital room with no warning.

  "Hey, that was a bit rough," Thorn protested.

  "Sorry," Quina apologised. "I'm not used to acting as a tour guide. Anyway, we're back where we belong, safe and sound."

  I looked around at the others. Yes, we were all back, although Zen appeared a bit unsure of himself. He stared balefully at his legs and took a few timid steps, then did a quick lap around the room just to reassure himself that everything was operating as it used to and things were back to normal.

  Tracey was still comatose on the bed, although she appeared slightly better for having met us. Some of the paleness had disappeared from her face and I could have sworn that she smiled slightly.

  "What's our next move?" Trix asked Quina.

  "Now we try to get some answers," Quina said grimly. "I suggest we pay a visit to our friend with the poison and see if he can tell us anything."

  "That's fine with me," Thorn commented, bunching her fists. "The sooner the better."

  "I think we should take Fink along as well," I told everyone. "We don't want to form a vigilante group."

  "Fink?" Quina questioned.

  "He means Fringapellumna, the Head of Security," Thorn explained. "Stephen has trouble with our names," she whispered conspiratorially to Quina. "He's not very articulate, you see. Rumor has it that he was dropped on his head as a baby."

  "I see," Quina said, with a perfectly straight face. "How sad for him. Despite that handicap, however, he seems to have recovered magnificently. You’d barely know that anything was wrong with him at all."

  "Very funny, you lot," I growled. "Hilarious, in fact. I can hardly restrain myself from laughing out loud, but if I wanted to be insulted I'd go and visit Nix. At least he’s a true professional and not an amateur at it like you people."

  "Nix?" Quina questioned. "Is this another nickname of Stephen’s?"

  "No, strangely enough," Thorn told her. "It's what Nix actually calls himself."

  "What a strange and diverse group of people you are," Quina murmured.

  "Now she’s insulting everyone," Trix pointed out, grinning.

  "Yes, isn't she," I agreed. "We'll have to think of some suitable punishment later on, but right now we've got a job to do."

  "You're right," Quina said, "but before we go I'll give Traculimna something to boost her energy levels." She rummaged in her backpack and pulled out a bottle with a clear green liquid inside. She carefully tipped some into a small, empty glass and then added a few drops from another bottle and swirled it around. Then she lifted Tracey up to a sitting position, opened her mouth with a finger and slowly poured the solution down Tracey’s throat.

  "That should help her," she muttered in satisfaction as she eased Tracey back onto the bed.

  "Was that the antidote?" Trix asked.

  "No," Quina said, compassionately looking down at Tracey. "We still don't know what the poison is yet. It was just a tonic to bolster the organs. It should buy us some time. Okay, now we can go."

  Chapter 11

  As we made ready to leave the room to pursue Tracey's would-be murderer, Doctor Totil appeared once again.

  "Have you finished your magic mumbo-jumbo?" he asked, sarcastically. "Honestly, Quina, why do you waste your time? You're better than this."

  "You just don't get it, Totil, do you?" Quina sighed. "Why are you so narrow-minded? Just this once, step outside your comfort zone and admit there are things your science simply can't explain. You're so materialistic. There's so much more to existence than the mere obvious."

  "No, there isn't," Totil insisted. "I believe in what I see and nothing more. I'd be a fool to believe anything else."

  "You're so rigid," Quina complained. "Your thinking is so inflexible. Life’s a lot more supple than you give it credit for."

  "So you say," he said sourly. "Why can't we go back to the way we were, Quina? We were happy then, weren't we?"

  "But I moved on," she told him softly, "and you didn't. I'm sorry, Totil. I wish the situation was different, but it isn't. Goodbye."

  Quina strode out of the room and we followed her, minds whirling. Totil and Quina were together at one stage? Okay, now that came as a surprise. I found it hard to visualize them as a couple. Imagine the fights! But maybe things were more peaceful before Quina chose her alternate path. I caught up with her and asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

  "There's nothing to talk about," she said in a clipped tone. "It’s true that Totil and I were on the same wavelength once, but now we’re worlds apart. I believe one thing, and he stubbornly and mulishly believes something else." She flashed me a quick grin. "Not that I'm bitter or anything."

  "Heaven forbid," I told her. "Anyone can see how calm and detached you are about this. It's a shame, though."

  "Yes, it is," she agreed solemnly. "A great pity. He’s a brilliant doctor in his own way, but he limits himself by not looking past his approved textbooks."

  "Why don't you take him on one of your little guided tours?" I suggested. "He’d be sure to change his mind then."

  Quina chuckled. "He wouldn't let me come near him with my ‘hocus-pocus’," she informed me. "Actually, I think that, deep down, he's afraid of what he’d find if I did take him on a spiritual excursion. It’d throw all those years of conservative thinking and rules out the window." She sighed regretfully. "Some people hate change. They cling fanatically to their familiar and practiced routines. Anything a little different disturbs them."

  "True enough," I consented. "But don't give up hope. People can change."

  "Maybe," she said doubtfully. "But Totil is in a class of his own when it comes to being obstinate. It's a damned nuisance. I really like him, too."

  She cut off the conversation at this point and quickened her pace. In a thoughtful frame of mind, I slowed down and rejoined the rest of the group.

  Chapter 12

  We found Fink in his office, introduced Quina, and related what had happened, along with our solution. As expected, he initially exhibited an incredulous and disbelieving response to our tale, not that I blamed him in the slightest. It was rather outlandish. However, having previously experienced other weird happenings with our little group, he resignedly agreed to accompany us in our effort to track down Tracey’s assailant.

  "You won’t give any peace until I agree to come with you, I suppose," he grumbled.

  With Quina leading us, we eventually arrived at an outer suburb house, set back from the street and displaying a rather flamboyant nouveau riche exterior.

  "This is it," Quina announced confidently. "He's in there."

  "A bit ostentatious with his money, isn't he?" Trix sniffed, critically. "Rather a braggart, I'm thinking."

  "It goes with his personality," Quina agreed. "I received the impression he was a bit full of himself. Anyway, how do you want to handle this?"

  "We can't just barge in and accuse him of being a murderer," I proclaimed. "He'd only deny it and throw us out of the house."

  "I wonder if Zen would be able to find something," Trix said, thoughtfully. "After all, Zenith could find almost anything when we asked him to. Maybe his tracking skills were passed down to his children."

  "A good point," I conceded, "but he has to know what he's looking for first and we don't have any samples for him to sniff. It'll just be guesswork on his part."

  "True, but our friend inside doesn't know that," Trix announced slyly. "For all he knows, Zen could be hot on the trail of the hidden poison. It should rattle his confidence, if nothing else."

  "You cunning little wombat," I praised, gazing at her in admiration. "I salute you. Where did you learn to be so sneaky?"

  "I can’t possibly imagine. Perhaps by hanging around with you?" s
he cheekily replied. Without further ado, I knocked on the door and awaited developments. The developments arrived in the shape of the very fairy I'd seen in Tracey's replay. Score one for Quina, I thought.

  "What do you lot want?" he enquired rather rudely, peering over my shoulder at my companions.

  "It's simply a routine murder enquiry, Sir," I told him in an official tone, deciding to shake his cage little. "As you can see, we have the Chief Security officer with us and also the official tracker dog as well." If I wanted to discombobulate our suspect, I succeeded beyond my wildest dreams. His mouth dropped open in shock and the stunned look on his face was something to behold.

  "Mu ……… murder?" he stammered, looking around wildly. Then he looked down at Zen who was busily engaged sniffing at his shoes. "Tracker dog? He's awfully big for a dog, isn't he? And just what is he tracking?"

  "I'm glad you asked that, Sir," I told him, still being ridiculously official. "You see, this dog is something special. He's been trained to detect all sorts of things. Blood, chemical smears, ….. poisons. Why, bless me, Sir, he can detect a single grain of poison in a room full of garlic. He's very talented that way, you know. But anyway, we're here because one of your neighbours alerted us that you might be able to answer our enquiries about a female One who was recently murdered. Poisoned, in fact. Very sad. The murder victim's family have sworn a terrible revenge if they ever find the perpetrator. I'll tell you, Sir, that I wouldn’t like to be in the killer’s shoes right now. The sister of the victim declared that she’d personally chop the murderer into tiny bits, piece by piece. While he’s still alive, mind you! And I can inform you, Sir, that she sounded deadly serious. I shudder just thinking about it. I tell you, Sir, if I’d been the perpetrator of this outrage, I wouldn't be able to sleep at night. Anyway, would you mind if we go inside?"

  Not waiting for an answer, I pushed him aside and walked into the house. Not that I had any opposition to doing so. The poor man ended up so petrified from what I'd been saying that he was frozen to the spot and visibly trembling.

  "What on earth was all that about?" Quina hissed at me as he entered the living room. "I've never heard such a blatant string of lies and downright exaggerations in all my life."

  "Good, wasn't it?" I immodestly proclaimed. "I think I’ve got him worried."

  "I think that ‘worried’ is the understatement of the year," Quina assured me, smiling slightly, causing charming dimples to appear. "Another word from you and he’d probably faint dead away."

  "Which is exactly how I want him," I confided. "Let's let Zen loose now and see what happens next." I waved to Trix and she whispered to Zen who immediately ran around the room, frantically sniffing at everything.

  "What is he doing?" the fairy asked in a shrill voice.

  "No need to be concerned, Sir," I told him. "He's just doing his job, sniffing out the slightest trace of poison and narcotics." I looked at the fairy sternly. "Of course, you realise that if he does find anything untoward, you'll be in trouble. Enormous trouble. Storing poisons, planning murders, resisting arrest ……."

  "Resisting arrest?" he squeaked. "I'm not resisting arrest!"

  "Well, not now you're not," I told him. "Not now. But later on, you’re sure to be. After all, it goes hand-in-hand with not being co-operative. Once people confess of course, then we can remove that particular misdemeanor from the record. That's a lot of prison time saved, you see."

  Fink had been rendered speechless at my interrogation technique, but I didn't have the time to spare for his demolished sensitivities because our suspect suddenly bolted in panic. He dashed to the doorway and would have made it, too, except for Trix. With lightening speed, her hand dived under her coat and came out clutching a small knife which she flicked at the fleeing fairy (pardon the alliteration), pinning one of his wings to the wall. Our would-be escapee squealed and struggled to no avail. He remained well and truly captured.

  "Now, Sir, that was a bit naughty, wasn’t it?" I informed him, leisurely strolling over to his side. "It almost appears as if you have a guilty conscience by trying to run away in that fashion. Of course, we all know you're perfectly innocent, but this sort of thing doesn't look good, now does it? A person could easily get the wrong idea about your little escapade. Here, let me help you with that," I remarked smoothly, deftly pulling the knife out of the wall and freeing him. I stood there, tapping the knife blade on the palm of my hand.

  "Of course, we could save all this fooling around," I continued, "if you just tell me what you were doing at the time of the murder." I waved the knife under his nose and he shrank back, terrified. I continued in a threatening tone. "We know you administered the poison, so don't bother to deny it. What we want to know is why. Well, speak up! We haven't got all day."

  "You're all crazy!" he muttered, flattening himself against the wall. "I didn't know it was poison, I swear! It was just supposed to make her ill, that's all! I did what I was told to do, that’s all! How was I to know it would kill her?" The last sentence was delivered in a tone close to hysteria.

  "Now, calm down, Sir," I soothed. "Take a few deep breaths. Okay, let me get this straight. Someone gave you the poison to administer. Is that correct?"

  "Yes!" he exclaimed.

  "And what is the name of this individual?" I asked, intently.

  "I don't know," he replied.

  "Come on, Sir," I cajoled. "And you were doing so well up until now. Don't spoil it by withholding facts. It won't do you any good in the long term, you know."

  "But I don't know!" he wailed. "I never saw the person! I don’t know his name or anything! I found a box on my doorstep that contained the powder and a note with some money. The note told me what to do, that's all. It’s the truth!"

  I glared at him with my best ‘scowling detective’ mode, but decided that he’d probably told the truth after all. Damn! So, we still had to find the real culprit. I turned around and handed the knife back to Trix.

  "Well done, young Jedi," I told her. "Once again your knife skills have saved the day."

  "Yes, where did you learn that extraordinary ability?" Quina questioned.

  Trix shrugged as she secreted her knife back under her coat. "Here and there," she answered vaguely. "In the wilderness, really. I had to do something to survive."

  "Interesting," Quina murmured. "The more I learn about your little group, the more intrigued I become."

  "What we do now?" Thorn asked. "We still have to find the antidote and time is running out!"

  "All too true," I said, scratching my head. "At this stage we have the first link in the chain, but that's all. We still don't know what the poison is! Our main suspect appears to be just a pawn. We need the next link in the chain."

  Chapter 13

  "And how do we find that exactly?" Fink questioned, coming out of his shocked stupor. "I have to admit that I'm totally lost here. I can see you getting results, Stephen, but still ……. I'm not sure your irregular methods are entirely legal."

  "They may be sailing a bit close to the edge," I agreed, "but Tracey's life is in the balance here, don't forget that. We don't have time to pussyfoot around."

  "Pussyfoot?" Quina questioned, turning to Thorn.

  "Just another of Stephen's human sayings," she explained with a grimace. "Don't take any notice. He does it all the time. I found it’s best to just ignore half of what he says."

  "And that's why we get on so well," I told Quina. "I don't listen to what she says either."

  "The antidote?" Thorn proclaimed. "Time running out. Remember?"

  "Of course," I said, suddenly serious. "That's the next step." I turned my attention back to our prisoner. "Do you have any of the poison left?" I asked.

  "Sure," he said. "I used only a teaspoon. The rest is still in the bowl."

  "Would you fetch it for me, please?" I asked. "Fink will accompany you."

  "I know, I know!" Trix exclaimed, eagerly jumping up and down. "You're going to get Zen to track it down, aren't you?"
>
  "That's the general idea, you clever little Smurf," I told her. "We'll see if he can track it to its source. If we can, then we might find the mastermind behind the whole thing. And if we can do that, then we may be able to find the antidote. It's worth a try, anyway."

  "What's a ‘Smurf’?" Quina whispered to Thorn.

  "I'm not entirely sure," Thorn whispered back. "I think it's some sort of a rat."

  "Rat?" Trix exclaimed indignantly, having unfortunately overheard Thorn's totally erroneous answer. "Is Stephen saying I’m a rat?"

  "Don't be ridiculous!" I interrupted. "A Smurf is a cute, cuddly, little blue critter that everybody loves, and not a rat. Thorn, stop giving out false information, please."

  "How was I supposed to know?" she defended herself. "The human world is so bizarre."

  "I think even I would agree with that," I murmured.

  Fink returned, pushing his downcast captive, who once again protested his ignorance of the true nature of the poison. Wordlessly, Fink handed me a small silver container and I flipped open the lid. The white powder inside did indeed resemble sugar, although the grains were finer. I wondered what it really was. I felt tempted to stick my finger in and lick a little off as they did in the movies, but that would have been foolishly pointless as I had no idea what any of the poisons tasted like, although it would have boosted my reputation immensely to wisely proclaim, "Ah yes, just as I suspected. This is definitely such-and-such."

  I handed the bowl over to Trix, warned her not to let Zen breathe in any of the powder and let her tell Zen what to do. She held the opened container in front of his nose and urged, "Seek! Go, my clever boy, and track this down for me. Make your Mommy proud!"

  Zen sniffed at the bowl then looked up at Trix enquiringly. "Go, sweetheart," she told him. Immediately, he ran around the room in a confused circle.

  "I don't think this is going to work," Thorn prophesied. "He doesn't know what to do."