by Nick M Lloyd
I said, ‘Justio, get to your assigned position.’
Lying on the ground, Commander Justio lashed out at me with his foot—striking out with the force of an infant. I stepped backwards, evading the kick, and then showed him how a kick should be executed.
At this stage, I still felt compassion towards my crew member; he’d been deceived.
I said, ‘Don’t let the animustosis take you. Get up! You have your responsibilities!’
The fool screamed at me. ‘My responsibilities can burn!’
Any renouncement of responsibility is very unwise. I kicked him again, not so hard, but squarely in his genitalia. I swear I saw his eyes actually roll back into his head as he passed out.
As I walked past his twitching but thoroughly unconscious body, I whispered down to him. ‘Careless kick, I seemed to have missed both your legs.’
These young ones, no respect.
Sharnia smiled, Commander Hunla had been a role model and a wise counsellor. The evidence was tenuous: Jenkins was under suspicion, Justio had a history of instability, and they’d worked together a lot.
Chapter 29
By the time Jeff woke on Sunday, half of the morning had gone. He rolled over and was not surprised to find Louise wasn’t there; he wasn’t sure she had even been there overnight. He glanced around; her clothes from yesterday were on the chair.
After taking a few moments to take stock of the situation, he called out. Louise was not in the house. Jeff dragged his feet through his late-morning routine and only felt perkier after his 11 o’clock cigarette break with Mrs Saunders. As he walked back into the house, Jeff congratulated himself. He felt he’d nodded, shrugged, mumbled, commiserated and smiled all in the right places to effect a nice social exchange.
Then, picking up his notebook, he left the house to meet Mike. A text arrived from Louise. She was on her way to her first targeted accident survivor.
In The Three Kings pub, Mike sat with two drinks on the table. He waved Jeff over. ‘We’re ready for Wednesday. I’ve set up 10 sets of test equipment.’
‘Sounds good.’ Jeff picked up the beer. ‘Louise is off chasing after survivors.’
Mike winked. ‘As long as they do as she says, they’ll remain that way.’
Opening his notebook, Jeff doodled a picture of a coin box. ‘Do you honestly think anyone could alter a coin toss within a closed box?’
‘You mean inside Schrödinger’s Kitty!’
Jeff smiled, Mike’s enthusiasm was a little infectious. ‘But without a meaningful interaction, an exchange of some sort of force. How?’
‘We agreed to suspend disbelief.’
As he thought about it, Jeff’s smile slipped. ‘I guess I did agree to assume it’s possible. It’s just a bit much…’
Mike leant over and gently closed Jeff’s book. Jeff looked up and Mike held his gaze for a few moments, then Mike spoke. ‘Everything we know now about the universe is true and irrevocable, right? They’ll never be any new theories and never be any improvement on what we know now, right?’
Jeff remained impassive. Well there’s open-minded and there’s mentalist.
Mike continued. ‘Newton, Copernicus, Einstein should have all respected the received wisdom of their age.’
Jeff’s could feel a Mike rant coming. Could he hold it off? ‘Well, Newton was a fervent alchemist and astrologer…’
‘Come on, this is a chance to do something big. Jeff?’ Mike imitated an over excited football commentator. ‘You want your Bjørge Lillelien moment right? Pierre Simon de Laplace, Pierre de Fermat, Blaise Pascal, Christiaan Huygens…Your laws took one hell of a beating!’
Jeff laughed. ‘Okay, not really their laws but I’m in.’
‘Has Louise got any more from her informer on Project Hedgehog?’ Mike scribbled some notes. ‘Are we even close to the same type of test?’
‘We’ve not had any more. Project Hedgehog was a military initiative, so I suspect their tests were quite edgy; probably a large fear element.’ Jeff paused for a moment, thinking. ‘Assuming Louise convinces the accident survivors to participate, we can’t expect to replicate the fear they felt in their own escape situations.’
‘Agreed, given we can’t be honest with them; I can’t see how we could drive those levels of fear. But there’s definitely some tweaking we could do related to fear, if we felt suitably empowered.’
‘We can’t. Most of the participants are just volunteers from the university; our control population.’
Mike conceded the point. ‘Okay. I’ll cancel the order for scorpions.’
The evening wore on with general discussion.
Just as they were getting ready to leave, Jeff’s phone received a text. ‘It’s Bob checking if we’re still meeting next week. Shall we invite him?’
Mike thought for a moment. ‘He’s a solid thinker. A little political in places, but generally a decent scientist. And from what you’ve seen he seems to have an interest in the workings of the brain.’
‘But…he also sits on the funding committee. I don’t want him thinking I’m a loony.’
Mike laughed. ‘We can sound him out, I think he’ll welcome any experimentation that might push back the frontiers of knowledge.’
‘So we invite him.’
‘It couldn’t hurt.’
Chapter 30
At lunchtime, Louise arrived in Wolvercote, looking for James Hollander’s home. Parking on the edge of Port Meadow, she soon found the relevant house. Rather ominously, it looked run down and had no signs of life. She walked up to the front door and peered through the crenulated glass, but could make nothing out. She rang the doorbell and waited, then a few moments later rang it again. The house had a high wall, blocking access to the back garden. After five minutes, Louise tried a neighbour’s house.
The door was quickly opened, by a middle aged woman. ‘May I help you?’
‘Good morning, madam, my name is Louise Harding, and I work for the Daily Record.’ Louise showed her identification. ‘I’m writing an article on survivors of dangerous traffic accidents and was hoping to speak to James Hollander, who I understand lives next door.’
The lady’s body language gave the distinct impression to Louise she wasn’t about to be invited in. ‘Sorry to tell you, but your information is a little old. Lucky Jim was found drowned in a canal 18 months ago.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Louise kept a respectful silence for a few moments. ‘You referred to him as Lucky Jim. Was there any other luck…other than the car crash?’
‘Well.’ The lady paused. ‘I’m Sue, by the way. He survived cancer about 10 years ago. He told me about it. He said one day the doctors were talking about making his last days comfortable, and then a few months later the tumours had disappeared.’
‘That is lucky. Anything else?’
‘He talked a bit about his gambling friends. I got the feeling he did quite well.’ Sue paused.
‘Oh.’ Louise made notes and then looked back towards Jim’s house. ‘His death didn’t come up in my research. I was going to ask him about the crash. Was there anything unusual about the story, anything Jim may have told you?’
Sue shrugged. ‘He’d been travelling in a friend’s car on the way back from a concert. He always said he was very drunk and one minute he was singing along to the radio, and the next moment he was sitting by the side of the road while the car had been burned to a crisp. He was the only survivor out of six people in the car.’
‘Was there much interest in his death?’
Sue shook her head. ‘A few suspected foul play, but it all died down in a week or so.’
‘And, pardon me for saying something which may sound strange, but did Jim ever talk about hedgehogs?’
Louise noticed a faint reaction from Sue, perhaps a twitch of recollection. She held her breath.
Sue paused. ‘Actually, Jim did mention once he had contacted some other crash surv
ivors. I think there was a hedgehog club, something to do with deaths on the roads.’
Louise nodded. ‘I think it was a road safety thing. I have come across some references. You don’t remember the names of any of the members of the club, do you?’
‘There was an old lady called Mary Jones who lived in Banbury. I remember her because she’s got the same name as my goddaughter. I don’t have any contact details; sorry.’
‘I’m sure I’ll track her down.’ Louise passed over a business card. ‘If anything else occurs to you please give me a call. Also, not to be too dramatic, but could you drop me a note if anyone else starts asking you about Jim? I have a professional adversary, nothing serious though!’
Louise called the newspaper and asked an assistant to look up contacts for Mary Jones. Then she headed north towards Woodstock. After 10 minutes her phone buzzed: Mary’s phone number and address.
Louise dialled the number and a few moments later the phone was answered. ‘Hello?’
‘Hello, is this Mary Jones? My name is Louise Harding, I’m a reporter for the Daily Record and I was hoping to get 10 minutes of your time.’
The voice on the other end of the phone sounded unsteady. ‘What’s this about?’
As Louise approached her turning she switched the phone into the other hand. She checked her rear-view mirror, checked the road ahead, and made the turn. ‘I’m doing a piece on road safety.’ Louise grimaced, the irony was not lost on her. She completed her turn right and continued talking. ‘I heard your name in conjunction with a safety campaign and was hoping to get some of your thoughts. I’m close to Banbury. Could you do 10 minutes face-to-face please?’
There was silence for a moment. ‘If you’re here before 4:30pm. I lock up at dark and I don’t open my door after then.’
‘Okay, thanks. See you then.’ Louise put the phone down. It was 3:45pm, plenty of time. She looked in her rear-view mirror. There was a car 50m behind her doing a 3-point turn. She hadn’t noticed anyone in the street, but the light was fading fast and she couldn’t make out any details. The car had turned around and was following her. Maybe.
There was a flash of blue light. Louise groaned and started scanning the road for somewhere to stop.
A few moments later Louise pulled into a bus stop and wound down the window. She watched as the policeman made a slow circuit of her car, finally stopping at the driver’s window.
‘Good afternoon, madam, I suspect you have an inkling of why I pulled you over.’
Louise tried her best to look contrite. ‘Sorry, officer, I’m usually very careful about my driving habits.’
The policeman mumbled a polite acknowledgement and turned his attention to his phone before speaking. ‘Are you Louise Harding of Exeter Road, London, NW2 3UU?’
‘Yes, officer, I am.’ Louise waited with growing trepidation as the policeman flicked through a few screens on his phone, then he frowned and sighed. ‘And your comment about being a careful driver…do you count the six points you have for speeding, or not?’
Louise’s shoulders sagged, and fumbled in her purse. ‘I’m sure this won’t make a difference, but I’m trying to get to an old lady in Banbury of a matter of urgency. I’m a reporter.’ Louise passed over her identification card.
The policeman studied it then smiled. ‘You are quite correct Mrs Harding, this doesn’t make a difference. I am going to issue you with a fixed penalty notice. If you could just answer a few questions, please.’
Louise looked at her watch in frustration and then closed her eyes to get under control. I can still make it.
At 5pm, Louise pulled up outside the house of Mary Jones. Although in her 80s, Mary still lived in her own house in a quiet side street of Banbury. The house was in complete darkness. She can’t have gone to bed this early. Louise looked through a downstairs window. There was no movement within. She checked the address; this was the place.
Louise called through the letter box. ‘Mrs Jones. I just want to ask some questions about road safety…and hedgehogs.’
A few moments passed, then a light came down the corridor. Mary Jones stopped and talked through the front door. ‘So who are you, exactly?’
Louise posted her identification badge through the letterbox. ‘My name is Louise Harding. I’m a journalist. I’m investigating people who survive road crashes. I’m focusing on people who survive and then go on to have other unusual occurrences.’
Mary paused for a few moments. ‘I believe you, but I’m not sure I’d let the Mother Teresa into my house after dark. Perhaps you could come back tomorrow?’
‘Well, Mrs Jones, if my only option is to come back tomorrow then I will.’ Louise stood, turned and walked back down the path.
After taking a few steps, there was a click behind her, the front door opened. Mary Jones leant out and scrutinised Louise. ‘Okay, then, you can come in for five minutes, no longer.’
Louise followed Mary into the back room. Once seated, she turned to Mary. ‘Thank you very much for agreeing to see me, Mrs Jones.’
Louise took her notepad out of her bag and opened it up at the next blank page. ‘So, Mrs Jones, I have been looking into road safety and I came across a reference to a Hedgehog Club. Your name came up and I know nothing about it, is there anything you can tell me?’
Mary sat quietly for a moment, apparently thinking, then leant forwards towards Louise. ‘Well, my two boys—my husband, William, and my son, Thomas…do you know their story?’
‘Sorry, I don’t. I’m in the very early stages of the investigation, Mrs Jones. Perhaps you could tell me about them.’
Mary’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’m not sure how you got to me without hearing their story. I’m also concerned about your use of the word hedgehog.’ Mary looked at Louise in an appraising manner.
‘Sorry, Mrs Jones, I got your name and the hedgehog reference from a neighbour of James Hollander…Lucky Jim. I know very little more.’
Mary went over to her desk, took out an old local newspaper cutting from the late 1970s and passed it to Louise. ‘Well, firstly, take a look at this.’
Local Father and Son Disappearance
Local father and son, Bill and Tom Jones disappeared in the mid-1960s without a trace. Bill’s wife, Mary Jones, has been searching for her missing family ever since.
Bill miraculously escaped from a serious car crash involving over 15 vehicles in late 1962. Following his escape, he was invited to participate in some government studies into road safety.
On the way home from the first session he disappeared. His son Tom disappeared a few days later.
Now, after almost 15 years, Mary says she’s giving up. ‘The UK Government aren’t telling me anything.’
Louise passed the newspaper clipping back to Mary. ‘I am sorry for your loss.’
Mary gently shushed Louise. ‘No matter. I’ve given up the chase. Many years ago I got a few visits from a senior civil servant who implied Bill and Tom had been involved in espionage and they’d been eliminated by a foreign power.’ She shrugged and concentrated on her hands.
Around the room there were a few old photos Louise assumed were Bill and Tom. ‘So what about Lucky Jim and Hedgehog?’
There was a pause as Mary collected her thoughts, then frowned slightly. ‘Four or five years ago I got a visit from a man who had a totally different spin for me to consider.’
‘Lucky Jim?’
‘Yes. He said he’d been investigating for many years and had come across a Project Hedgehog. This was a military experiment run in the 1960s and there were a number of people involved in the experiments who were car crash survivors. He thought it was linked to mental changes people suffer under trauma. Lucky Jim said he was pretty sure Project Hedgehog had taken Bill and Tom.’
‘What did you do?’
Mary sagged back in her chair for a moment and then pulled herself together and leant forward. ‘Nothing much. I wrote to the government, I pl
eaded they let me put my ghosts to rest. I asked explicitly about Project Hedgehog. I got no replies, and I was unable to drum up any support. It was another dead end.’
Louise nodded sympathetically.
Mary looked resigned. ‘A year or so later Jim called me and said he’d some more information. He implied he’d spoken to a government official, and there’d been talk about psychic powers and aliens…Well, I asked him to come round to discuss it, but he never showed up.’
‘Aliens?’ Louise kept a straight face and looked carefully at Mary.
‘I didn’t believe him either. I didn’t try to investigate.’
‘Was there anything else?’
‘No, dear. That’s all.’
Louise stood up. ‘Well, if I find out anything about Bill or Tom I promise I will let you know.’
‘That would be kind.’
Mary walked Louise to the door.
A few moments later, Louise was on her way to her hotel.
Louise rented a room in a motorway hotel. Entering the bedroom, she threw her laptop and overnight bag down and jumped onto the bed; her phone was dialling before the bedroom door had closed shut. ‘Jeff, I’ve made some progress. Lots more about Project Hedgehog, plenty of references to the MOD, mentions of psychic powers and aliens.’
‘Aliens…are you sure?’
Louise spoke back tersely. ‘I’m absolutely sure it’s what I heard…look, let’s both do a little internet searching and see if we get anything.’
Although it was getting late, Louise drove into the centre of Oxford to find an internet café. She paid for an hour of browsing in cash, and was careful to keep her baseball cap pulled down over her face.
After an hour of browsing with all her new search words she managed to achieve pretty close to zero except re-hitting a few web forums which had the old postings from FibonacciEddie. There was nothing on aliens at all.
