‘So what exactly is it you want me to do?’ asked Cobb, intrigued.
‘I want you to find her and bring her back. I don’t know if she’s been kidnapped or just run away but you must find her for me.’
‘Why do you need me? With your organisation you must have contacts everywhere, surely you can find her yourself?’
‘Too dangerous. If I started looking for her using my men, too many people would know about it and that would put her in danger. The wrong people might find her first. I have competitors, rivals, who watch me closely. If I started looking for her, they would try to get to her first, to find out what my interest in her was. Once they found she was my daughter, well, you can imagine what would happen to her.
‘I need someone from outside my world, someone no one would suspect of having any contact with me. If they hear about you looking for somebody it is just another private detective on a missing person case. That’s why I need someone honest who I know can be trusted.’
‘I’m still not sure if I want to do it.’
‘Please Cobb … my daughter’s life may be at stake. Forget our personal history, think about my daughter’s safety.’
‘Supposing she hasn’t been kidnapped but has run away. What happens if I find her and she doesn’t want to come back?’
‘Just find her and then it will be between her and me.’
Cobb poured himself another drink and thought about it for a few moments. Quist fiddled with a paper knife and watched Cobb silently, almost anxiously. My life is getting really bizarre, thought Cobb, I’ve tried for years to put this man in jail and now he’s asking for my help!
Finally, against his better judgement, Cobb gave a sigh and said, ‘All right, tell me about her.’
Quist smiled and opening a drawer, took out a photograph and a few sheets of paper. Placing these in front of Cobb he began, ‘Her name is Adele … Adele Curran. Thirty two years old. She’s not my natural daughter; I married her mother, Angela Marsden, when Adele was just a child. Her real father had died some time previously. We set up house together in Swanwick using the name of Curran and I would visit them when I could. I didn’t mix that side of things with my regular “business”, so my wife and Adele lived an ordinary life. Adele is a smart girl; when she grew up she went to University and then took up a career in teaching. For the past eight years she has been teaching at a private school.
‘Everything was fine until my wife died a few months ago. Adele took it hard and became very distant from me. I couldn’t get through to her; she stopped talking to me, leaving the room when I entered, that sort of thing, as if she blamed me for her mother’s death.
‘And then a few days ago I received word from the housekeeper that Adele was missing. I went to the house, there’s no note, no explanation. As “Mr. Curran” I checked with the school and they haven’t heard from her either.’
‘It sounds to me like once her mother was no longer around, she took the first chance she could to run away from you,’ said Cobb.
‘That could be exactly what we were meant to think.’
‘Did she take anything with her?’
‘According to the housekeeper there’s just a few clothes and a bag missing but that could be to mislead us, if she was kidnapped.’
‘Any men friends?’
‘There have been some over the years but nothing serious and no one at present.’
‘That you know of.’
‘Won Lungh usually keeps himself informed about these things and he says not. When I’m living there he acts as my butler, so he knows what goes on in the household.’
Cobb picked up the photograph and studied it carefully. Adele Curran was an attractive woman. Her hair was dark blonde, pulled back in a bun. Cobb couldn’t tell the colour of her eyes in the black and white photograph, but they were certainly striking. He looked at Quist and thought she was lucky to only be his daughter by marriage and not inherit his looks.
‘I’ll need information on her friends, her habits, that sort of thing.’
Quist indicated the sheets of paper with the photograph. ‘You’ll find everything I know in there.’
‘Do you have anything personal of hers? I may need to use a diviner.’
Quist took a pearl drop earring from his pocket and laid it next to the papers. ‘This was one of a pair she wore frequently.’
Cobb looked at the earring, expensive but tasteful, not too flashy. Cobb hoped that a diviner might be able to pick up some “vibrations” from it to tell him something about what had happened to Adele, perhaps even her location. It was worth a try, it had worked before.
‘So, will you take the case?’ asked Quist gently.
‘Why should I?’ replied Cobb.
‘She may not be my natural daughter but I’ve grown to love her as if she were my own. Look at that picture, she’s an innocent. She doesn’t deserve to get hurt because of me and I’ll do anything, pay anything to get her back safely. You may be her best chance. Will you really turn your back on her because you hate me? You’re a better man than that Cobb.’
Cobb did look at the picture and it did bother him that the woman in it might be out there somewhere, perhaps held prisoner and being made to pay for her father’s loathsome past. ‘I’ll do it on one condition. If I find her and she is safe but doesn’t wish to come back, then I tell you I’ve found her and it ends there. I don’t have to tell you where she is.’
‘Very well, I agree,’ said Quist, ‘I just need to know she’s not in trouble.’
‘Okay, you win. I’ll take the case. I’ll need some expense money.’
Quist opened the same desk drawer that he had taken Adele’s photo from and produced a thick envelope. It made a satisfying THUMP as it hit the table in front of Cobb. ‘There’s plenty in there. If you need more you’ll get it, as much as you need. If you want anything else, let me know. Anything at all.’
‘How do I do that?’
‘If you want anything, go to the doorman at the Rialto Theatre in Drury Lane. Tell him what you need; it will be delivered to you. Don’t use my name and don’t mention my daughter. Just tell him you have a message for “Mr. Curran”.’
Cobb finished his drink, stood up and then pocketed the picture, the earring, the money and the papers. ‘I’ll be in touch,’ he said. ‘Now, how do I get home?’
‘There’s a sealed carriage outside; Won Lungh will show you out. Unfortunately you will have to be blindfolded again until you are in the carriage. A necessary precaution I’m afraid, so you don’t know the location of this hideout. And thank you for taking the case, Cobb.’
‘I’m doing this for her sake, not yours.’
‘But still … thank you.’
‘One last question,’ Cobb said to Quist. ‘I investigated you and your organisation for years. How come I’ve never heard of him before?’ he jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards Won Lungh.
‘Oh, Won Lungh normally only takes care of me when I am Mr. Curran. He’s not part of my gang. I never involve him in my criminal activities except for special jobs.’
‘Like when you need someone who is going to testify against you to disappear … kind of special jobs?’
Quist stared back at him but didn’t answer.
‘I see.’ Cobb walked towards the door. Won Lungh held up a blindfold for Cobb to put on. Cobb did grudgingly then Won Lungh took him by the arm, led him out of the house and helped him into the waiting carriage. Before he closed the door, Won Lungh grabbed Cobb by the arm and hissed, ‘You find Missee Adele, pretty damn quick or you answer to me!’ then closed the carriage door. Once the carriage had driven away from the house, Won Lungh went back into the house and closed the door.
As the door closed, the man in the red and white diamond clown costume that Cobb had seen at the pub and in that other dimension, stepped out from behind a tree. The Harlequin watched the carriage proceed down the long driveway until it was out of sight. He stared thoughtfully at the house for a few moments
and then, with a click of his fingers, disappeared into thin air.
The Divine Mrs. Stiverley
Cobb sat at his kitchen table nursing his hand. Lucifer had bitten him when he had given him his breakfast. He sipped at his coffee with rum in it (or more accurately, rum with coffee in it) and pondered the events of the night before.
What was Quist up to? He didn’t believe for a minute that the woman he had been hired to find actually was Quist’s daughter, Cobb had never heard of him having family. So why did he want her found? What did she know or have that Quist wanted? What devious scheme had Quist dreamed up now and why had he involved Cobb? He wasn’t convinced that Quist had come to Cobb because he’d been the only honest copper in the force. There was obviously a lot more going on and the only way to find out what that was, was to play along for the time being.
He finished his coffee and put on his overcoat. Time to go and do things. Cobb took a Hansom cab to Soho to pay a return visit to Jarse. He now had the money to pay off Mary Templeton’s debt to the Loan Shark. He couldn’t have done it before but Quist had given him a bundle of cash to use as he pleased, no questions asked, so he intended to use it to help out a good person.
Cobb walked up to Jarse’s office and without knocking, opened the door and walked in. Jarse was across the room at a filing cabinet and Bruno was sitting in his chair, in the corner of the room. Bruno started to get up but Jarse waved him back down.
Cobb took a roll of Quist’s money out of his pocket. It amused him to use some of Quist’s ill-gotten gains to put towards a good cause. He peeled off some notes and dropped them on the table. ‘Here’s the money for Mary Templeton’s back rent, thirty pounds. I strongly suggest that you forget about the interest.’
Jarse quickly crossed to the table and pocketed the money as if he thought Cobb might change his mind. ‘Very well Mr. Cobb, we’ll consider the debt paid.’
Cobb left Jarse’s building. Right, that was that taken care of, now for the other matter, Miss Adele Curran. Where to start? Well, Cobb had wisely asked Quist for an object of Adele’s that he could give to a diviner to see what information they could come up with. Who knows, they may even be able to tell him where she was. The only trouble was Cobb didn’t know any diviners but he knew a man who did … The Witchfinder.
***
The post of Witchfinder was an ancient position. As long as Man has been on Earth, there have been witches, warlocks and others who were “gifted”, who conducted their business openly and freely in the community. But there were always complaints from the leaders of the organised religions. (Chiefly because witches tend to go their own way and not follow leaders of organised religions.)
Matters finally came to a head in the 1600’s when, due to an expose by a printed broadsheet The Solaris, it became public knowledge that the ruling monarch King Charles, was actually a warlock (Carlus the Magister as he was known to the occult community). This outraged the leading members of Parliament and the various church leaders, who demanded his abdication. (As usual, most of the ordinary people didn’t really care one way or the other.)
Ultimately, this led to the Albion Civil War, the downfall of the monarchy and the execution of the king. For four years war raged across the length and breadth of Albion, as the Parliamentarians (nicknamed the “Roundheads”, due to the round helmets their soldiers wore) fought tooth and nail against the Royalist/Occultists (nicknamed the “Coneheads”, due to the shape of witches hats).
The Roundheads and the Coneheads battled long and hard but eventually the Roundheads were victorious, due to sheer weight of numbers, and the defeated king was beheaded before a specially invited audience. (Tickets only, backstage access, all areas.)
The victorious Parliamentarians immediately introduced the position of Witchfinder, who was charged with hunting down all witches and putting them to death. The first holder of the post of Witchfinder, Thaddeus Flax, became the most feared and hated man in Albion. He had the power of life and death over entire villages and he used that power extensively and indiscriminately.
There were countless witch trials, mass confessions and executions. Fear ruled the land. But the truth of it was, real witches simply went underground and the only people tortured into a confession before being burnt at the stake, were innocent peasants who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or they had inadvertently annoyed somebody, who would take the opportunity to get their revenge by shopping them to the Witchfinder. Nobody in their right mind was going to inform on a real witch. That was a good way to become a frog, or a turnip, or wake up dead in the morning.
Eventually this led to a popular uprising when the ordinary people (who were really, really getting tired of being burnt at the stake for being cross-eyed or for having a wart on their nose or for having an attractive wife who someone else coveted) led by the Royalist/Occultists, stormed the Houses of Parliament, beat up anyonewearing a round hat, and forced Parliament to repeal the anti-witch laws and re-instate the monarchy. (Fortunately the king had sired an heir before he died, so they didn’t have to bother with any of that voting nonsense.)
One of the new conditions that the Royalist/Occultists and Parliament agreed on to settle their differences, was that witches and others of their kind were free to practice witchcraft openly as before, but if they charged for their services, then they must be licensed. This would also provide protection for the customer as, before a license would be issued to an individual, they had to prove that they actually did have occult powers. This, it was hoped, would reduce the amount of charlatans and fakers who had previously preyed on the innocent and the naïve.
To this end, a new government department was set up. The Bureau Of Occult Practitioners (B. O. O. P.) was created and one of its tasks was to track down unlicensed witches who were operating in the community and … issue them with a fine.
The person whose responsibility this became (in a pleasing touch of irony) was the Witchfinder. So, from the man who had the power of life and death over everyone in the country, he became that thing that is even more despised and feared by mere mortals … a bureaucrat!!
The time honoured and feared position of Witchfinder has degenerated over the centuries to just being a government employee (complete with health care and a pension plan) but in reality, little better than the council dogcatcher. (Who says the Gods don’t have a sense of humour?)
The present incumbent of the post is the masterful, authoritative person (well, that’s what he would like to think) of Roderick Grindle. And his loyal secretary, Deirdre.
***
Cobb approached the door of the office of B. O. O. P. It was contained within the Westminster Council building, hidden away at the back. The door was open and Cobb stopped in the doorway. The office’s only occupant was a young woman in her twenties. The first thing Cobb noticed was that she was wearing really thick glasses. She was standing behind the desk waving a wand around and occasionally flicking it at a piece of coal that was lying on her desk.
Flick. ‘Rabbit!’ she said.
Flick. ‘Vase!’ she ordered.
Flick. ‘Book!’ she commanded but the piece of coal resolutely refused to change its shape and obstinately remained a piece of coal, despite all instructions to the contrary.
‘Good morning,’ said Cobb.
The young lady instantly whipped off her glasses and hid them behind her. ‘Good morning,’ she said looking at the door.
‘I’m over here by the filing cabinet,’ replied Cobb. She was obviously one of those vain types that thought they were more attractive when they were bumping into things.
‘Ah yes, of course you are, how can I help you?’
‘My name is Cobb, I was looking for some information and I wondered if you could help?’
‘Is it to do with Magick?’
‘Erm … yes. That’s why I’ve come here.’
‘Then you’ve come to the right place. Here at B. O. O. P. we know all about Magick. Why, I myself have the gift,
you know,’ she said proudly. ‘That’s why I was drawn to B. O. O. P. I think. I just need to develop my powers a little, that’s what I was doing when you came in, just takes a bit of practice, that’s all.’
‘And you are?’
‘My name’s Deirdre, personal assistant to the Witchfinder. When my Magickal powers are fully developed I’ll be an invaluable asset to the Witchfinder. Together we’ll rid Albion of any threat from Black Magicians, that’s the Witchfinder’s aim you know.’
‘Are we in much danger from Black Magicians?’ asked Cobb dubiously.
‘Oh yes, they’re everywhere, you know. But don’t worry, the Witchfinder is on the case … a wonderful man, so inspiring.’
‘Do you think it would be possible to have a word with him?’
‘He is a busy man. Do you have an appointment?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Well, I’ll tell you what, I’ll see if I can persuade him to see you,’ she said winking in the direction of the filing cabinet.
Cobb, who was now over by the window said, ‘Thank you, I’d appreciate that.’
Deirdre slipped on her glasses for a second to get her bearings then went to the door leading into the inner office, knocked and went in.
After a moment she came out and waved Cobb into the office.
‘Mr. Cobb, pleased to meet you, I’m Roderick Grindle … The Witchfinder.’ The way he said it, Cobb could almost hear a drum roll preceding it. ‘Deirdre, do you think we might have some tea, please?’ Grindle shook Cobb by the hand. ‘Take a seat.’
Cobb sat down and looked at the Witchfinder who had seated himself behind the desk. He was a small man and looked as if he was in his early twenties, though he was probably older. On his desk was the daily newspaper with a half filled in crossword. Busy huh? thought Cobb.
‘Is this all there is in your department, just the two of you?’ asked Cobb.
‘Oh, they let us borrow a couple of filing clerks who work in the records department.’
‘Well how do you cope with the issuing of licenses? There must be hundreds of witches in Albion.’
Split Infinity Page 9
