The Stranger Times

by C. K. McDonnell

‘It always does. This, I fear, has been only the first shot. A cold wind is coming.’ She took a seat back on the bollard and they sat in silence for a few moments, watching the city start to rise.

  Banecroft pulled a cigarette from behind his ear and lit it.

  ‘By the way, can you pull a rabbit out of a hat? I’ve always enjoyed that one.’

  ‘Oh, do shut up, Vincent – there’s a good chap.’

  Psychics’ Convention Cancelled Due to ‘Foreseen Circumstances’

  The 15th annual convention of Portuguese Psychics has been cancelled due to what organizers are calling ‘foreseen circumstances’.

  In a press release, they revealed that next week’s event will not take place because ‘if it did, something very bad would happen. We cannot give any further details, as unfortunately that would cause something even worse to happen.’

  The organizers go on to explain that the cancellation has absolutely nothing to do with poor ticket sales.

  CHAPTER 41

  Hannah leaned back in her chair and cradled the phone to her ear. A part of her had been excited to have her own desk. It was now a pile of kindling lying beside the wall, having been a momentary inconvenience to a rampaging beast. She looked at it, feeling that the incident from a few hours ago was already starting to seem like a particularly vivid dream. Surprisingly, her phone still worked, although Hannah hadn’t yet decided if she was happy about that or not.

  After the long night, now that the newspaper was published and everyone else had gone home, the adrenalin was finally leaving her. Still, the buses wouldn’t start running for another hour, and seeing as she would soon be unemployed again, she couldn’t afford a taxi. She realized that going through the phone messages again was not only unnecessary but also entirely futile, given the edition of The Stranger Times that had just been printed would be the last. However, it was that or try to process everything that had gone on, followed by everything she had been told, and this side of the morning, that felt like far too big a task to undertake. Instead …

  The electronic voice spoke to her. ‘You have … thirty … nine … messages.’

  Hannah groaned to herself and slammed the phone back on its cradle. ‘Oh, screw this.’

  ‘Well, that’s a fine attitude!’

  She looked up to see Banecroft standing in the doorway, leaning on his crutch and holding the remnants of the flowers that had sat on Grace’s desk prior to Hannah hurling them at his head.

  She immediately sat forward in her chair. ‘Oh, sorry, I was just going through the voicemails. Killing time before the buses start running and I can go home.’

  ‘Home?’ said Banecroft, sounding outraged. ‘Home? We’ve got a features meeting for next week’s edition at nine, and attendance is mandatory.’

  ‘For who? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but one half of the features department is in hospital and the other has been arrested.’

  Banecroft sniffed. ‘Bloody excuses. I’ve been shot in the foot and I’m still here.’

  ‘You did that to yourself.’

  ‘And I got tossed around by that big hairy lummox too, and you don’t hear me whining about having a broken arm.’

  ‘Well, with the amount of alcohol in your system, I’d imagine we could hit you with a building and you wouldn’t feel it.’

  Banecroft shook his head disdainfully. ‘Fine. Be back here for eleven – no, wait, ten thirty. We need to get cracking on next week.’

  Hannah closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this tired. ‘Oh, why don’t you go and …’ Her eyes shot open. ‘Wait a sec, I thought we wouldn’t be publishing next week? Or ever again?’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Banecroft. ‘I have used my considerable powers of persuasion and negotiation and—’

  ‘Mrs Harnforth,’ interrupted Hannah. ‘She’s fixed it, hasn’t she?’

  Banecroft gave her a look as he lit a cigarette. ‘It was a team effort.’

  ‘Who did she ring at this time of the morning?’

  Banecroft took a long drag and pushed out a cloud of smoke. ‘I would imagine quite a few of the people she has to deal with are not exactly big sleepers.’

  Hannah was surprised by the elation she felt. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the relief that she would not have to go through another job interview.

  ‘Well, that’s good news, I suppose,’ she said, trying to sound non-committal. ‘And if you’re looking for an apology from me for throwing those flowers at you, you’ll be waiting a while. You thoroughly deserved it.’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Banecroft, ‘I’m just glad you didn’t try to burn down the building.’

  Hannah, for the first time in God knew how long, stuck out her tongue in a childish gesture of defiance. It was amazing how good it felt.

  ‘I’m testing a theory,’ continued Banecroft.

  ‘If it’s whether or not holding flowers makes you more charming, the initial results aren’t encouraging.’

  Banecroft limped across the office. ‘Don’t forget you are still on probation. It’s a slow economy – people would kill for your job.’

  ‘Really?’ said Hannah, standing up. ‘Well, they’re in luck, because I’m way too tired to put up much of a fight. So, what’s your theory?’

  ‘Why did that … thing attack us?’

  Hannah shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I mean, it’s a monster. It …’

  ‘Don’t think of it in those terms. You heard Mrs Harnforth: it is a weapon. So the question is, why did its owner aim it at us?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Oh come on, woman, think!’

  Hannah glowered at him. ‘I don’t … We had the photo. They knew that if it was published it would be big trouble for them.’

  ‘Right. And how did they know that?’

  ‘I …’ Hannah stopped.

  ‘Think about it,’ said Banecroft. ‘The only people who knew about it were in this office, and incompetent though they may be, I doubt even they would have found a way to somehow leak that information to the enemy.’

  ‘Then …’

  Banecroft tossed the bunch of flowers to Hannah. ‘Say it with flowers.’

  She found the device, about the size of a two-pence piece, stuck just above where the stems were tied together.

  ‘Someone bugged us?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Banecroft. ‘And I think we know who that certain someone is. The good news, at least, is that we found out who your secret admirer is.’

  Hannah dropped the device on the floor and stamped on it repeatedly with her heel, not stopping even when it had most certainly been rendered inoperable.

  ‘Men,’ said Banecroft. ‘You can’t trust any of the bastards.’

  ‘Oh, shut up.’

  ‘So you know, I had a whole little speech planned, in which I’d tell our American friend how we’d beat him, but you literally stepped on it.’

  ‘That’s a shame. I know how much you enjoy the sound of your own voice.’

  Just then, the office phone rang. The phone system, antiquated though it was, was set up to ring in the main office if Grace was not behind her desk.

  ‘Grace!’ shouted Banecroft. ‘Get the phone!’

  ‘She’s not here.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s five thirty in the morning and nobody should be here.’ Hannah looked at the phone. She had had her fill of crazy for the night, but it might be about the trucks that had just left, full of newspapers. Reluctantly, she picked up the handset.

  ‘Hello, The Stranger T—’ Hannah sat forward. ‘OK, calm down, Grace. Calm … Are you sure? Where are you?’

  ‘What in the—?’

  Hannah raised her hand to silence Banecroft.

  ‘OK. We’ll be right there. Which hospital?’

  Hannah stood up as she listened. ‘OK. We’re on our way.’

  She slammed down the phone and grabbed her coat. ‘Come on. Grace i
s in hospital. They’ve taken Stella.’

  CHAPTER 42

  Hannah heard Grace before she saw her.

  ‘Get your hands off of me!’

  They’d taken Banecroft’s car. Hannah had torn through the early morning traffic at a reckless speed, ignoring a couple of inconveniently coloured lights on the way. Banecroft had hopped out of the car as soon as they’d arrived at the hospital, and rushed into the accident and emergency department as fast as his crutch could carry him.

  Hannah had thrown the car into the first thing that looked like a parking space and raced after him, catching him up as he stomped down the hall. They passed a rotund nurse whose beaming smile crashed to the ground when she clocked Banecroft. ‘Oh no, not you again.’

  ‘Lovely to be back,’ said Banecroft, not stopping. It had been five days since his visit, but he had clearly left an impression.

  There was no need to talk to the woman behind the reception desk. As soon as Hannah entered A & E, Grace’s presence was unmistakable. Her voice carried from the ward and down the halls: ‘You do not understand. Let me go. I need to help her.’

  A harassed-looking police constable stood outside the curtain. As Banecroft and Hannah moved towards him, he held out his arms to block their passage.

  ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa. This is a closed-off area.’

  ‘The woman in there is my employee,’ said Banecroft, ‘and I wish to speak with her.’

  ‘You can’t do that, sir. It isn’t safe.’

  ‘Safe?’ asked Hannah, doing nothing to hide her disbelief. ‘Grace is a lovely, sweet woman who wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

  Grace’s voice grew louder. ‘You let me go this instant or so help me God, I shall rip off your arms and use them to beat you to death.’

  ‘Her bark is worse than her bite,’ finished Hannah.

  ‘There was an explosion at her house,’ continued the PC, ‘and we think she might have concussion – she’s raving like a lunatic. The medical staff are restraining her for her own safety.’

  Grace’s voice lifted over the quieter voices from behind the curtain, the ones using that specially trained, calming tone of reassurance. ‘You’d best let me out of here, or with the good Lord as my witness, I will not be responsible for what happens. None of you are listening to me! You have got to listen to me!’

  ‘What kind of explosion?’ asked Hannah.

  ‘We’re not sure, madam. Probably gas. Lot of it about.’

  ‘I’m going to talk to her,’ said Banecroft, and went to move past. The PC placed a hand firmly on his chest. Banecroft glanced down at it for a moment and then looked the PC dead in the eye. ‘I’m the editor of a newspaper and the lady in there is my employee. If I were you, I’d think hard – this is about to be a career-defining moment for you.’

  Hannah could see the panic in the man’s eyes.

  ‘Look,’ the PC said. ‘The poor woman is ranting and raving. She keeps talking about a monster. She needs medical assistance.’

  Banecroft looked down at the hand again. ‘She won’t be the only one in a minute.’

  Hannah stepped forward. ‘Is she under arrest?’

  ‘What? No. Course not.’

  ‘Right, then.’ Hannah raised her voice. ‘Grace. Grace!’

  ‘Hannah? Hannah, is that you? They will not listen to me.’

  ‘It’s OK, it’s OK. Grace, I want you to take a deep breath, stop struggling and calmly say that you want to speak to me.’

  There was a moment’s silence and then, ‘I wish to please speak to her.’

  Banecroft nodded. ‘She sounds calm and in control of her faculties to me.’

  Hannah nodded. ‘I agree.’

  ‘I bet the paper’s lawyers will too. What do you reckon’ – Banecroft glanced at the name badge on the PC’s jacket – ‘Constable Sinclair?’

  PC Sinclair hesitated, then turned and stuck his head around the curtain. After a brief whispered conversation, he drew back the flimsy material. Hannah stepped beyond it to see two flustered nurses standing either side of a bed occupied by an irate and sweat-covered Grace. She had leather straps around her arms and cuts on her face.

  ‘Oh my God, Grace. Are you OK?’

  ‘Silly question,’ said Banecroft, before raising his voice and addressing the nurses. ‘Thank you, ladies. We’d like to speak to our associate privately for a couple of minutes, please.’

  The nurses looked at PC Sinclair and then back at Grace, who was now a little calmer than she had been. They moved out of the cubicle, pulling the curtain closed behind them. As soon as they did, Hannah undid the restraint on one side of the bed and Banecroft did the same on the other.

  Grace’s voice came out in a torrent. ‘You have got to save her. Oh, good Lord, that poor child. You have got to. They have got her. They have got her. They have got her.’

  Hannah tried to keep the panic from her own voice as she spoke. ‘Grace, it’s OK.’

  ‘It’s not, it’s not! Oh Lord, oh Lord!’

  ‘Grace,’ said Banecroft sharply. ‘Calm down and stop ranting like a lunatic. Christ on a bike.’

  ‘One,’ said Grace automatically, as she somehow seemed to regain a semblance of self-control. ‘Listen to me. They have got Stella!’

  ‘All right,’ said Hannah. ‘Grace, I know you’re upset, but you’ve got to focus. What happened exactly?’

  Grace closed her eyes, and for a second Hannah thought she was going to burst into tears, but then they reopened, looking more focused. ‘We had not been home long. Stella had gone upstairs to bed. I was making myself a cocoa – I can’t sleep without my cocoa – and then there was a knock on the …’ Her brow furrowed. ‘No, there was … I don’t know. But suddenly, they were there. That … thing.’

  ‘The one from last night?’ said Hannah.

  Grace’s head pistoned up and down furiously. ‘Yes, that abomination was in my kitchen. My kitchen! And a man was with it. And then …’ Tears welled in her eyes. ‘And then it went for me, and Stella was there suddenly, and she screamed. Then there were chains in the air. Full metal chains, flying through the air. I know that does not make any sense, but I swear to God, chains. The little bald man, he threw them at her, only … not. And then she screamed so loud, and there was this blue light. So bright. And the explosion …’

  ‘What exactly exploded?’ asked Banecroft.

  Grace looked at him, her eyes filled with confusion as tears rolled down her face. ‘Stella did – or, I mean, it sort of came out of her. She … Bless her. She cannot control it when she gets upset. Blew out the whole back wall of the house. And then she was standing over me, telling me to get up, and then … It went dark, things fell, and when I came around they were all gone and part of the roof had fallen on me.’

  Banecroft and Hannah looked at each other.

  ‘I tried to explain it to the police,’ Grace continued, ‘but they looked at me like I was crazy.’ She grabbed Hannah’s hand. ‘You know, though – you saw it. They have got our Stella.’

  Banecroft spoke to Hannah. ‘When that thing was in the church earlier, remember? It was going for us and then …’

  ‘When Stella came up the stairs,’ said Hannah, ‘it turned and went for her. Like it was, I don’t know, drawn to her.’

  Banecroft looked back down at Grace. ‘Did you see where they went?’

  ‘I didn’t. I was … They were there, then it all fell down, and when I opened my eyes again they were gone. Oh Lord, oh Lord. I have not got my phone.’

  Hannah put her hand over Grace’s, partly to comfort her and partly to try to ease her grip, as her fingernails were digging into the skin of Hannah’s forearm. ‘I tried ringing Stella on the way over but there was no answer.’

  ‘No, you don’t understand.’ Grace looked up at Banecroft. ‘A few months ago, when we had that fight – me and Stella – and she disappeared for a couple of days?’

  Banecroft nodded.

  ‘I asked Ox,’ Grace continued, ‘and he … he did it a
s a favour.’

  ‘Grace,’ said Hannah, as calmly as possible, ‘what are you trying to tell us?’

  ‘My phone!’ said Grace. ‘I made Ox put a thing on it so I could see where she was. I made him … I just wanted to know she was safe, and she always has it with her.’

  Hannah placed her hand on Grace’s cheek so that she would meet her gaze. ‘Are you saying you’ve got a tracker on Stella’s phone?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Grace. ‘I told Ox I wanted something she would not see, and he did it for me, eventually. There is a thing on my phone, only it was on the kitchen counter and the wall blew up. I’ve not got my phone.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ said Hannah. ‘Ox will be able to find her.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Grace. ‘Yes. Ox will be able to. She’s a good girl. You’ve got to find her.’

  ‘We will,’ said Hannah. ‘We will.’

  Banecroft turned and headed out of the cubicle. ‘C’mon, then – clock’s ticking.’

  Hannah looked down at Grace. ‘It’ll be OK. I promise. We’ll find her.’

  She rushed to catch up with Banecroft as he brushed past PC Sinclair and the two nurses, who were huddled in conversation.

  ‘Would you just …’ Hannah shouted after him. ‘Hang on! What are we going to do?’

  Banecroft didn’t look back as he spoke. ‘We’re going to find Stella.’

  ‘We need to tell the police.’

  ‘Really?’ said Banecroft. ‘Our employee has been snatched by a werewolf and his demented Yankee master. Do you want to end up strapped into a bed beside Grace?’

  ‘Well, what are we going to do, then?’

  Banecroft pushed through the swing doors and stomped on. ‘We’re getting in the car and then you are ringing your boyfriend.’

  CHAPTER 43

  Tom Sturgess stared at the notices on the information board. Apparently, cats could carry some kind of killer flea now.

  He was sitting in the large waiting area of the Ancoats Urban Village Medical Practice. About twenty people sat around in uncomfortable moulded plastic chairs, waiting for their names to scroll across the LED display, followed by a room number. At some point, visiting your GP had gone from waiting in a hallway to see a man in what was essentially the converted front room of his house to sitting around in what looked like a rather shoddy airport gate, waiting for your flight on Air NHS – maximum flight time: ten minutes. There were some subtle differences, of course. On the few occasions he had flown somewhere, nowhere near as many of his fellow passengers had been showing the effects of serious smack addiction.