The Tirnano - Book 1 'FINN'

by Peter Emmerson

  She turned to address her self-appointed escort. “Get yourself around this lot. No photos are to be taken. Any that have been; get deleted, and make sure you check every mobile too. I don’t want any pictures or videos popping up on ‘YouTube’ before the government’s ready. You got that?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, and sped off to comply with her orders. Gonna be a lot of annoyed amateur paps, she thought.

  On the tarmac, near the slip road where it had been flung, lay a creature curled in a foetal position. The only things moving were its eyes, darting from face to face, and a long forked tongue, flicking in and out of its split upper lip.

  4.

  MUCHALL'S BEND

  Aberdeenshire.

  THE FEMALE

  April 2011

  Without a doubt it was another one, Jeanne saw at once that her wish had been granted. She was unmistakably female. Heavy, full breasts visibly announced her gender, her proportions rivalling that of her male counterpart’s insignia. Something about the shape and swell of the creature’s bosom struck Jeanne as noteworthy. She tucked away the notion for future analysis.

  If the male was short, the female was tiny. About three-one, three-two, Jeanne guessed. She wore a hooded jacket and tight-fitting pants similar to the male, although unlike his plain tan clothing, hers boasted fantastic embroidery: vivid green and blue swirls and sprays intertwined with intricate inlaid stitches of red. I guess females all over have a love of colours and clothes in common, Jeanne thought, amused.

  The creature’s boots were a soft, lace-up affair, comfortable and practical looking. A small haversack was slung across her shoulder. Around her neck was a carved necklace, matching the baubles dangling from her ears and wrists. Her hair was less abundant than the male’s mane, but equally long and thick. Silvery grey like the male’s, Jeanne noted, but with copper streaks instead of black. Coarse and wiry, it fell from her head like a human female’s and was swept behind her shoulders, bound in place by a simple leather cord.

  “She’s scared,” a female paramedic to Jeanne’s left stated softly. Blood spotted her plastic gloves, and her dark hair was slipping from its no-nonsense ponytail. She looked frazzled and frustrated, mixed with an unhealthy dose of anxiety.

  “Lots of vehicles and cars,” Jeanne pointed out. “Commotion, sirens, noise: I’d be scared too, if I were her.”

  “Point taken, but we ought to get her in the ambulance. She’s been lying down there for nearly half an hour. She doesn’t appear badly hurt, not that I can get close long enough for a thorough examination. Touched her once, and she freaked out. You can see she’s got a head injury, although it appears superficial. Still, we really need to get her inside where we can strap her down and check her over.”

  As the paramedic had pointed out, blood was visible on the female’s head, even from where Jeanne stood. Already it was drying on her grey zebra-skin. Some had crusted in her hairline, and even the hair itself. Appears to be a scalp wound, they always bleed the most.

  Noting the thickness of the creature’s arms, Jeanne thought, you try to strap her down and you’ll likely have a big fight on your hands. She refrained from saying so aloud. Instead, she asked, “Do we have a witness? Did anyone see what happened?”

  “Umm...” The paramedic rotated her head to the left in a peculiarly owlish gesture. “There was a woman here who claimed she saw everything. Oh, there she is.”

  She singled out a trim blonde wearing a coat too heavy even for the chilly morning, clutching it around herself like a talisman to ward off evil. Across the distance Jeanne could see a haunted glaze in her pale eyes; what, exactly, had she seen?

  “Okay, thanks.” She clapped the paramedic on the shoulder. “Keep everyone away from her for a minute, will you? I’ll talk to the witness; try and get some idea of what she saw. Then I’ll see to her.” She nodded at the creature.

  The medic nodded, turning to her partner on her right she instructed him to keep back and pass the word. Help had arrived, and someone - meaning Jeanne - knew what to do. Overhearing her comment, Jeanne stifled a laugh. I must put on a pretty brave front, because I sure don’t feel like I know what to do.

  “Excuse me, madam?”

  The blonde turned at her approach, her address. “Yes?”

  About my own age, and well-preserved. No sign of wrinkles and ‘well coiffured’ too, Jeanne quickly assessed.

  “I’m told that you witnessed the, um -”

  “Accident?” the woman supplied helpfully. “I did. I was coming up from the other direction. Saw a lot more than just the tanker jack-knifing.”

  Somewhere near the Midlands. A bit of a Brummy burr in there, Jeanne thought of the woman’s accent, continuing her rapid mental assessment.

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “Why? Who are you? A reporter or something?”

  Odd. Jeanne could’ve sworn the woman’s posture suddenly turned defensive. However, when she flashed her credentials, the stranger calmed down.

  “Right,” she said. “Well, here’s what happened. I was heading south towards Stonehaven. It was raining and pretty misty as well. Made it kinda hard to see.

  “Just as I rounded the bend at the bottom, I spotted that tanker coming towards me on the other carriageway, and, just as we were about to pass, out of nowhere - and I mean, right out of the freakin’ rain - that thing appeared. Whatever it is. It obviously wasn’t paying any attention to where it was going. Too busy staring down at the bundle it was carrying, I guess. Anyways - ”

  “Wait, it was carrying something?” Jeanne was quick to jump on that detail.

  “Yeah, couldn’t tell what it was. -- Anyways, so it’s like it had just run up the gully from the railway tracks down there, and it darted out, crossin’ the road right in front of my car, and then it leaps the central reservation and runs slap bang front of the tanker. We both slammed on our anchors at the same moment.”

  The rest of the story was easy to work out. Both vehicles had swerved, the woman’s car ending up in a ditch facing down a bank, while the creature had been clipped by the skidding tanker. The witness had hardly stopped talking before Jeanne thanked her and edged away, heading back towards the creature.

  Still in its supine position, the Boggart now had both arms wrapped around herself and was softly keening a high staccato wail. Had she been human, Jeanne could’ve sworn it was crying, but no tears dampened her cheeks. Human or not, the worry stamped on her round, grey face, flat, broad nose, and dark, split lips was very real.

  Poor little bugger.

  Something sharp and empathetic pierced Jeanne’s chest. For all the world, the female appeared to have lost something terribly valuable, her grief almost like a mother bemoaning a lost child. Any woman can identify with that.

  “Ma’am, I wouldn’t go too close if I were you.”

  Another cop, not the pimple-faced rookie, touched her elbow gently. “She’s well agitated, tried to attack the medics when they went to check her out.”

  “Apparently she didn’t try very hard.”

  “Ma’am?” The officer was clearly taken aback.

  “Look at her arms and shoulders. She’s strong. If she’d wanted to do damage, she could have. I’m sure she was just reacting out of fright, not malice.”

  “Hmmm.” The man wasn’t mollified. “Well, just stay a safe distance away. That’s all I ask. Besides, we don’t even know what that thing is.”

  “I do.”

  “Beg pardon?”

  “I said, I do,” she repeated, louder. “And I’m going in. Maybe I can calm her down.”

  “Might want to take this with you.”

  Tom’s voice, less than a pace away, snapped Jeanne’s head around. When she saw him standing beside her grinning, freckled son saw what Paul was holding, her eyes widened.

  “What the ...?”

  In Paul’s arms, bundled tightly in a coarse brown blanket, like a wee clootie dumpling, was the tiniest baby she’d ever seen.
This explains everything! She realised. The female’s swollen breasts and forlorn look. She’s a nursing mother, and thought she lost her baby. Of course!

  She reached for the infant; Paul slid the teeny youngster carefully into her arms.

  “Isn’t it great, mum? Tom - ah, Pink, told me I could get out so long as I stuck with him. We were poking around, just to make sure nothing got overlooked, when I found it. Isn’t it great, mum? Isn’t it? Isn’t it? I found it - I mean, we found it. Pink and me, a real baby Boggart, just like in my book!”

  How is this possible? Wondered Jeanne. It’s just too bizarre for words.

  She glanced again at the little bundle, opening the blanket slightly. A hasty inspection revealed its sex - male, with its umbilical cord still attached. A few specks of blood dotted its head. This is a brand new model if ever I saw one, she thought with a matronly pang. The mother must have given birth within the last few hours. Her practiced eye darted over its extremities, finding all its bits and pieces in place. Nothing untoward, just so very tiny.

  As she stood staring down into the baby’s large, oval eyes, Jeanne felt another pair of eyes upon her. She looked up. The female was watching her closely, fully aware of what she held.

  Soon as their eyes met, the creature came up from the tarmac in one fluid movement and stood with her arms out, obviously begging for the infant. When Jeanne didn’t immediately comply, the female began to click her fingers loudly, almost insistently. Gently, Jeanne passed the precious bundle back to its mother, who immediately opened her top and clasped it to a breast. The infant responded by taking the nipple in its mouth. The babe now in her arms, the female became as quiet and as compliant as her male counterpart back at the Turner. Jeanne was able to guide the little creature and her offspring to the back of the ambulance, aiding her up the steps and into the interior. There, the waiting paramedics swiftly set to cleaning the wound.

  “It’s not too bad,” said the medic with whom she’d spoken earlier, speaking to Jeanne who stood at the rear door. “We’ll patch her up and take her to ARI.”

  “No!” Jeanne responded firmly. “Not the Infirmary, the Turner Institute building. You know it? Far side of the main car-park.”

  “Aye, ken’t,” acceded the male medic in a thick Aberdonian accent. “Yon secret placie.”

  “If you say so,” Jeanne replied darkly, making sure the guy clocked her ID, adding weight to her orders.

  Outside, the traffic cops were in the process of getting the opposite carriageway moving, waving the crawling eye-ballers past with angry gestures. Probably set up a two-way filter on the southbound side, which meant loads of overtime looming. The road would be slow running until the tanker was recovered. They began shepherding the rubberneckers, who had wandered from their vehicles to the front of the holdup for a looksee, back to their cars and trucks.

  Jeanne watched for a few moments as one of the policemen directed a tow truck to hook up to the back end of the witness’s Renault Laguna, pulling it up the bank. The vehicle was a W Reg, year 2000, in showroom condition. Or was... Crying shame... She shook her head. Got some scrapes and dents now.

  Jeanne turned back to the job at hand. “I’m going to take the back road to Netherley, and jump round this holdup. It’ll be an hour before I get to Stoney through this lot. My mobile’s not secure and I need a line pronto. The only place I’ll get one is the local cop shop.

  “Tom, can you ride with them in the ambulance. Make sure they get to the right place.”

  The Yank didn’t protest, and with a nod climbed in the back with the creature and her baby. The doors shut, hiding him from view. Within moments the ambulance was on its way, yodelling off towards Aberdeen, blue lights flashing.

  Jeanne flicked open her phone and tapped the screen icon, speed-dialling her Commander in London. “On its way to the office,” she said, and closed the connection.

  She strode back to the woman in the coat, who was watching the final recovery of her vehicle. “I’m going to need your name and address, madam. Please give them to the officer over there.” She singled out the rookie.

  “Make sure you pass her details to Stoney Nick soon as,” she murmured to the young officer, who came quickly at her beckoning.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he responded, pleased to be recognised as having some worth.

  5.

  STONEHAVEN

  Aberdeenshire.

  April 2011

  The Netherley road, a well known rat-run, was full of knowledgeable locals making their way around the blockage; even so Jeanne made good time to Stonehaven. The picturesque little town had not changed much from when she and Mike lived there. Speeding down the hill past the cliff top golf course and the outdoor swimming pool, she rumbled over the Cowie Bridge and was soon in the town.

  She passed the market square on her right, with its encircling brown sandstone buildings. Nowadays the square operated as the town centre car park, and, she noticed, was already filling.

  She almost missed her old favourite ‘take away’ the Harbour fish bar as she crossed the little stream at the far end of town; the ‘chipper’ was renowned for being the ancestral home of the infamous deep fried, battered Mars-bar. It had been a couple of lads during her last year at Mackie who had first conceived of the bizarre delicacy. Once over the bridge, she turned left towards the harbour, then immediately right and pulled into the Police Station car park. Nosing her way into a slot between a pair of Trannie vans, she hopped out, and with Paul in tow made her way inside.

  The desk sergeant looked up lazily, and then sprang to life as he recognised her. Ouch, it had to be Eddie Thomson, Mike’s friend and his one time partner when they were together in traffic. I haven’t seen him for at least five years. He hit the button to open the glass security doors.

  “Morning ma’am, to what do we owe the honour?”

  “I need a quiet office and a secure line to London.”

  “Won’t be a moment. Hi, Paulie, how you doing? - Gad, you’ve grown since I saw you last,” the burly man’s voice softened, “Seen your dad lately.”

  “Not since last month,” replied Paul, “he’s in Manchester now.”

  “So I heard. --- This way ma’am,” he was decidedly chilly with her. Ach, so what, it wasn’t her that had caused the break up, but it seemed men always stuck together in these things. Easy to blame her job and her ambitions, not the fact that he had strayed off the straight and narrow.

  “Can Paul stay out here with you, Eddie?”

  “Sure Je... ma’am, no probs.”

  Almost slipped up there, she thought sarcastically.

  Once she was alone in the office, she dialled her Commander in London and gave a full verbal report, logging times and events. Nipping back to the front desk where Eddie was in deep conversation with Paul, she broke in, “Have you received the name and address of the witness to the accident yet?”

  “Aye, it’s just come in, I was all set to bring it through to you.”

  Yeah, sure, when you’d finished jawing.

  He passed her a piece of paper, she ran her eyes down it; Aboyne, now why did that ring a bell, ah yes, - that was where the fantasy artist had his studio, ‘curiouser and curiouser’ she mused, and Wilson, wasn’t that the artist’s name?

  “Funny thing - they’ve arrested the woman, be bringing her in soon,” Eddie commented, “her car hasn’t been taxed or insured for years, and it’s never been MOT’d either, but she swears black is white that it’s brand new and she’s only just picked it up from Anderson Cars’ in Tullos.”

  “That’s ridiculous; didn’t they go belly up in oh one?” Mike and I bought our first car from the Langstracht branch a couple’a years before Paul came along, and that was years ago.

  “Aye.”

  She went back into the office picked up the phone, passed the name and address across and concluded her call with “I’m off back to the Turner soon, give you another report later.”

  She made her way back to the front offi
ce where Paul was still chatting to Eddie, “I was just telling Eddie about me finding the Boggart baby, Mum.”

  “Eddie, you got live feed from the cameras at Muchalls?”

  “Aye all three, working fine, I was clocking the shenanigans as you came in.”

  “Can you download me everything on here please,” Jeanne passed him a slim memory stick. “Don’t worry it’ll have enough space, its two TaBs.”

  “Two TerraBytes, Sheoot! - Where’d you get this? Sorry Ma’am,” he said as he realised his expletive slip.