by Ian Martyn
Harold glared at Shirley, whose returning glare could have blistered paint.
Harold retreated to being sheepish. ‘Yes, I regularly walk into solid walls just for fun. You should try it some time.’
Shirley’s voice came down a notch as curiosity took over. ‘So what should have happened?’
‘I should have been able to walk straight through, of course.’
‘But it looks solid,’ Kirby said, feeling it was now safe to enter the conversation again.
‘Yes, I know it looks solid. It always looks solid. But… oh, never mind.’
‘Safe to say then that someone has been tampering?’
Harold approached the gateway again, this time with more caution.
‘So what’s wrong with it?’
Harold shook his head as he reached out, touching it with one hand. Under the pressure of his fingertips, multi-coloured ripples spread across the surface. ‘It responds to individuals letting them through and anyone with them for the next ten seconds or so. My guess it’s been changed to allow the goblins through and at the same time exclude me.’
‘Can you change it back?’ Kirby asked.
‘Not from this end.’
‘I can see a figure,’ Shirley said, ‘a person, on the other side.’
‘Really?’ Harold asked.
‘Yes. It’s a bit fuzzy, definitely a person though.’
‘Goran,’ Harold said as he walked past Kirby and headed back towards the door.
‘So what now?’ Kirby asked.
Harold shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I think I need to talk to Edna.’
Back on the platform, there were now five people. None of them turned to see them appear, from what as Kirby looked back, was just a plain dirty cream coloured wall. Although, if he tried hard and knowing what was there, perhaps… He shook his head.
Outside, Shirley pointed along the road. ‘The girl’s flat is just around the corner.’
‘Close to where the line runs?’ Harold asked.
‘I guess so.’
‘Bit of a coincidence, don’t you think?’ Harold said turning to Kirby.
‘Why?’
‘Being near to the Metro and the gateway.’
Kirby shook his head. ‘If you say so. Believe it or not, gateways to other worlds are not something we have to factor in to our investigations on a regular basis.’
Harold sniffed the air like bloodhound trying to catch a scent.
‘What,’ Kirby asked.
‘I don’t like coincidences,’ Harold said.
‘That makes three of us,’ Shirley said.
twenty-five
Harold was tidying the shop, just thinking of closing up for the evening, when the bell tinkled. And this wasn’t a last minute customer tinkle this was a warning tinkle. Harold glanced up at the convex mirror. It was a tall man with long dark hair. On the surface he looked young, an academic perhaps. But the sneer as he glanced around the shop betrayed that.
‘Hello Mephisto,’ Harold said. ‘Wondered if you’d call in.’
‘Still here then, Harold,’ Mephisto said, his gaze taking in the whole shop.
Harold spread his arms wide. ‘As you can see. And as you must have known, you having hidden away not far from here.’
Mephisto grinned. ‘Ah yes, needs must and all that.’
‘But you still couldn’t resist the limelight. All that Youtube stuff. Once a second rate showman, always a second rate showman, eh.’ Harold shook his head. ‘A cat, really? And that cheap trick at the end.’
Mephisto sniffed as he picked up a mop, which with a faint pop, became a banana. Mephisto smiled and started to peel it.
‘More cheap tricks, Mephisto?’
‘Cheap tricks, Harold? You’ve been living one for how many years is it now? All these nice people thinking you’re just some dusty old shop keeper. Except now of course that Inspector, what’s he called?’
‘Kirby.’
Mephisto opened his eyes wider, pretending he hadn’t known. ‘That’s it, Inspector Kirby,’ he said taking another bite. ‘I think we might have to deal with him when this is all over. Knows far too much.’
‘You, Mephisto?’ Harold pointed to the banana. ‘That’s more your style.’
Mephisto threw the half eaten fruit on the floor. ‘Careful you don’t slip on that, or on anything else for that matter.’
Harold laughed. ‘First cheap tricks and now cheap threats. You know, I’ve almost missed you.’
Mephisto scowled. ‘You weren’t laughing last time. All those riots. We plundered the magic, fed the flames…’
‘And still failed.’
‘Not before you and Edna were tearing yourselves apart trying to protect this precious world of yours. And then there’s Geraldo and Roberto. Is he still masquerading as that dumb rabbit? Why, Harold? You don’t belong here.’ Mephisto spread his arms. ‘And this shop, what’s all that about? Do you actually sell any of this rubbish?’
‘Enough.’
Mephisto picked up a tin of floor polish. ‘Beats me why anyone would come in here for anything.’
‘Buying that?’
‘Huh?’
Harold took the tin from him and put it back on the shelf. ‘Maybe people like a bit of stability in a fast changing world.’
Mephisto sniffed. ‘If you say so. Come on, Harold, these people have lost the way, they don’t believe any more. They wouldn’t know real magic if it slapped them in the face. Tricksters and illusionists are all they have. They all applaud and cheer even though they know it’s a sham. They’ve shunned true magic and forgotten it even exists, replaced it with a pale, worthless imitation.’
Harold shook his head. ‘That’s their choice. It’s their world. And the magic’s still here waiting to be discovered again. What’s more it belongs to this world, Mephisto. It’s not yours to plunder. That’s not right. There has to be balance in all things.’
‘Who says?’ Mephisto said as he took a couple of steps down one of the isles. He picked up a can of sweetcorn which disappeared from his hand. A mouse ran off along the tops of the other tins. He picked up another can.
Harold put a hand on the shelf. ‘You can stop that now.’
Mephisto yelped and dropped the can, then licked his fingers. ‘Now who’s using cheap tricks.’
Harold smiled.
‘You won’t stop us, Harold. Nor will that interfering old crone, Edna.’
‘Us? Mephisto. Harold paused as if thinking about it. ‘Of course, you were never any good on your own. You know I’m surprised that Marianne has forgiven you again.’
Mephisto reached out towards the shelf again before thinking better of it. He turned his attention back to Harold. ‘We’re a team. She needs me.’
‘Only because she daren’t turn all Sisillius’s misogynistic brutes into stone.’
‘It’s not just Marianne now though is it?’ Mephisto said with a grin. ‘We’ve got help from a native of this world. You know what that means.’
‘A young girl, that’s a bit low even for you and Marianne isn’t it?’
‘She’s Marianne’s daughter.’
‘But she knows nothing of her mother. Then you abduct her, for what?’
Mephisto laughed. ‘Knows nothing. You think so?’
Harold shook his head. ‘Even Marianne must know she’s playing with fire.’
‘But Marianne doesn’t burn easily as you well know. Unlike others.’
Harold cocked his head to one side. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘We know all about your little retreat Harold. Those nice people and what’s your ‘nephew’ called, Goran is it?’
Harold grabbed Mephisto by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him towards him until their noses were almost touching. ‘Look into my eyes, Mephisto, tell me what you see?’
Mephisto held Harold’s gaze. ‘Harm me, Harold and who knows what Marianne might do.’ Mephisto raised a hand but the look in Harold’s eyes made him hesitat
e.
‘Don’t even think about it.’ Harold said pushing Mephisto away so that he clattered against the shelf behind him. ‘If any harm comes to them there are not enough worlds for you and Marianne to hide in.’
Mehpisto stepped out of Harold’s reach. ‘Words, Harold, just words,’ he said although Harold could see the doubt in his eyes.
Mephisto opened the shop door. The bell gave a single clipped “tink”. He pointed a finger at Harold. ‘It’s different this time, Harold. You’ll take my advice if you know what’s good for you and keep out of our way.’
Harold laid a calming hand on the bell which still held the echo of a vibration. He bolted the door for the first time in years before making his way into the back room. He took a glass out of a cupboard. On the shelf above he moved aside a dozen bottles of ketchup and lifted down a half full bottle of McCallan Malt whiskey which he kept for special occasions, deciding that sometimes there had to be exceptions. After taking a first sip he took out his mobile.
He smiled as he heard the faint words. ‘Damn… blasted thing.’ There was pause then a more controlled voice took over. ‘Hello, this is Edna. Who’s that speaking please.’
‘Edna, it’s me, Harold. Your phone’ll have told you that.’
‘Oh, you know I don’t hold with these things. Anyway, why’re you calling at this time, when Enders is on?’
Harold relayed a shortened version of his conversation with Mephisto.
‘Oh,’ Edna said.
‘Yes, exactly. I’m going to be at the girls flat with Kirby about 10.00am, can you meet me there?’
‘No, sorry, Pet. I needs to be seeing someone else. You’ll be fine there without me.’
Harold poured himself another drink.
twenty-SIX
Kirby parked a few doors away from Susie and Sarah’s flat at 35 Eslington Road. Not because there wasn’t a space nearer, it was just that he liked to get a sense of the place, the street. He was outside a neat row of three-storey terraced houses, some of which had been converted into flats. Further up the road were some large double-fronted detached houses, where at one time some of the more well-heeled Victorian citizens of Newcastle had lived. It had seen rougher times as well, but in the last twenty years had come up in the world again. So now there was a mix of the original residents and newer professional types, hence the four by fours with private number plates parked next to ageing Ford Fiestas and Renault Clios. Some gardens were little oases of well-tended calm whereas others were full of straggly grass, verging on the wild. These, no doubt, were favourite haunts for the local cats. There was a rumble on the other side of the road, the Metro. As he locked the car and wandered down the street, out of the corner of his eye he caught the slight twitching of a curtain, a professional, it hardly moved. He made a note of the house number.
On Susie’s doorstep, there was quite a gathering. Harold and Geraldo were standing watching him. To his dismay, Harold had his coat on. Geraldo looked like a walking rainbow in a coat of many colours. He couldn’t see Roberto, or that Geraldo had anything he could be in, which he was thankful for. He found the idea of a talking rabbit more than a little disturbing.
As he walked towards the little chattering group, Shirley Barker arrived. Kirby waited for her as she got out of the car.
‘Interesting looking pair?’ Shirley said with a grin.
‘Yes, I asked Harold to join us. The other one’s Geraldo. Come on, let’s see what’s going on.’
Shirley’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, that’s Geraldo?’
‘Yes, but don’t get your hopes up, I don’t see any sign of the rabbit.’
Shirley tutted.
‘Morning, Jonah,’ Harold said as they joined the group.
‘I wasn’t aware I’d issued a general invitation,’ Kirby said to Harold.
‘I thought Geraldo’s expertise might prove useful.’
‘Did you?’ Kirby noted that he didn’t explain what that expertise might be. He assumed magic, which made his heart sink a little.
‘And should I frisk you?’
Harold smiled and held out his arms.
Kirby thought better of it, valuing a full set of fingers. ‘Has anyone rung the bell?’
Harold reached up and pressed. ‘No, we were waiting for you.’
Susie opened the door in a white T-shirt with a ‘Students power the future’ slogan on it and what to Kirby seemed to be long, checked pyjama bottoms. However, he knew from his daughter that didn’t mean she had just got up and that this was considered perfectly acceptable “around the house” wear.
‘I hope we haven’t got you up?’ he tried anyway.
‘No,’ Susie said. ‘I know that’s the traditional view of students, but I’ve lots to catch up on.’ She looked past Kirby and her smile turned into a concerned frown at the gathering behind him.
‘Er, yes, the team. Sorry about that. Shirley, you know. This is Harold and that’s Geraldo. He paused seeing Susie’s bemused expression as she took in Harold’s coat and Geraldo’s multi-coloured jacket. They’re… er… experts,’ he said, avoiding saying just what they might be experts in.
Geraldo bowed with a flourish. ‘Geraldo the famous magician, mademoiselle,’ he said, handing Susie a card that had appeared in his hand. ‘You must come to my show.’
‘Er, thanks.’
‘No Roberto?’ Kirby asked as Geraldo walked past him.
‘No, Inspector. Roberto is not enamoured with early mornings.’
Thank heavens for that, Kirby thought.
Shirley, who was behind Kirby, tutted again. ‘I’d like to have seen him,’ she muttered.
Susie led them down the tiled corridor to the back of the flat and into a large open-plan room as the latest fashion in house renovation dictated. The ceilings were higher than in modern houses and the walls were a pale yellow. The sun was streaming in through the glazed rear doors of what Kirby presumed was an extension, lighting the table in the kitchen area on which was a laptop and several books. There was also a faint smell of pine disinfectant as if to dispel another student myth.
‘Looks even nicer with the sun coming in,’ Shirley said. ‘Great place to work.’
‘Yes,’ Susie said. We’re very lucky, although it does feel a bit empty without Sarah around. When do think she’ll be back? She is OK, isn’t she?’
Shirley smiled. ‘Yes, her dad says she’s fine, just a bit tired. I’m sure she’ll give you a call when she feels up to it.’
‘Speaking of Sarah, can I see her room?’ Kirby asked.
‘It was the first door on the left that you passed coming in.’
‘Thanks,’ he smiled at Susie.
‘Sorry,’ Susie said. ‘Would anyone like some tea?’
‘Splendid idea,’ Kirby said.
He opened the door and stood taking it all in. It looked as if Sarah had just left. The bed wasn’t made. There was a pair of jeans and a T-shirt on a chair, and a couple of pairs of shoes on the floor underneath. There was a desk and chair under the window, which looked out over the street. A closed laptop and couple of books. It was a little untidy, but not messy, especially when he thought about his own daughter’s room.
He held out an arm. ‘You two stay here while the constable and I have a look around first.’
‘Well?’ he said to Shirley as they entered.
‘As I left it the other day. Nice,’ Shirley said. ‘A definite one up on my first place.’
‘Not quite what I was meaning.’
Shirley shrugged. ‘Again, can’t see anything out of the ordinary, sir. No sign of any struggle or anything. She sniffed the air. ‘The only thing I can smell is perfume, if you know what I mean.’
‘I do, Constable. And I agree.’
Kirby turned. ‘OK, you two can come in.’
Harold entered first and inspected the book shelf next to the desk. ‘Some here on the occult, witchcraft and,’ he wrinkled his nose, ‘vampires.’
Kirby glanced across at Shirley. ‘Fiction
, popular stuff among the young, I’m told.’
‘Especially girls,’ Shirley said. ‘Bit after my time though. Can’t see it myself.’
‘Hmm,’ Kirby mused. ‘My daughter was into it for a while. It’s as if as technology takes over, they want to believe that there is something else, perhaps a little magic in the world...’ He paused, realising what he’d just said.
Geraldo waved a hand in a theatrical gesture. Kirby suspected Geraldo’s whole life was a bit of a performance. ‘That’s just it, Inspector. Millions of young people, how shall I put it, leaning that way, thinking those thoughts, make it more likely.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The young,’ he said, extending a hand palm up towards Shirley, who shrank away from it, ‘are more open, their minds more receptive. So it’s easier for them to make, let’s say, a connection.’
Kirby put down the photograph of Sarah and her father that he’d been holding. ‘What, you mean wishing for something can make it happen?’
Geraldo gave a little laugh and rolled his hands as if he was about to make something appear out of thin air. Kirby was even a little disappointed when it didn’t. ‘No, no, at least not in the way you mean. But a lot of people all on the same wavelength, as it were, can be a powerful thing.’
‘Like the riots?’
Geraldo raised an arm with a finger pointing at the ceiling. ‘Exactly! People blamed technology, mobile phones, messaging and the like. But underneath all that was the power of all those human minds, and influencing them, well…’
Shirley looked up, having been on her knees peering under the bed. ‘What, like telepathy?’
Geraldo smiled back. ‘There you go, you see. Just because you can’t touch something or measure it, you’re sceptical about its existence.’
Shirley tutted and got off her knees, brushing at her trousers. ‘If you say so. Anyway, there’s nothing under there,’ she paused and sneezed, ‘but dust.’ She glanced across at Geraldo. ‘Unless of course it’s invisible, in which case…’
Kirby huffed in response. ‘Yes thank you, Constable. Well, have we seen enough?’
Geraldo sniffed twice. ‘I almost missed it.’
