by G R Jordan
“Yeah, fine! Who the hell’s SETA?”
“Smith, get the limo round. We can talk on the way, Mr Kirkgordon. I take it Mr Austerley will not need assistance in waking up? Good. I can bring you up to speed on the way to the pub. We have important notes to compare and not that long to do it. I fear a cataclysmic event may be in the offing.”
“So I keep hearing.”
The Government Agent
Austerley was awake enough to accept a large brandy in the back of the limo. Sitting opposite Kirkgordon, his mood never lightened and he emitted dark looks from under furrowed eyebrows. Calandra was actually in buoyant mood, having succeeded in her part of the mission. Havers’ arrival was a turn-up for the books and a bit of luxury travel was suiting her still-aching leg. The debate began between the four would-be saviours of the planet.
“Mr Kirkgordon, you came up on the radar in Russia but the FSB were struggling to track you. They did find you once but apparently this dear lady was too much of a match for them. More brandy, Mr Austerley?” Havers was chuffed to bits too, just in a more eloquent way.
“Yes! Hell, yes! What did you do to me?” said Austerley, glaring intensely at Kirkgordon.
“Nerve pinch. Stops a lot of deadly foes. And the odd arsehole.”
“Now then, gentlemen,” intervened Havers, “there are more pressing things at hand, I fear. As I was saying, we heard about your exploits in Russia and then the countryside altercation. Then total silence. The FSB, and I have to admit ourselves also, believed that something had got to you out in the sticks. But I understand now that Calandra was showing her worth. Always a good stick, Calandra. Top notch on a tricky wicket.”
“Churchy seems to think so, anyway.” Having delivered the low blow, Austerley turned his face to the window. Havers ignored this and continued.
“We picked up on certain occurrences too. Lots of activity around selected items. And what with Mr Austerley possibly being with a hostile force, we thought best to protect certain individuals, and hence we took measures to have your family secured, Mr Kirkgordon.” Calandra’s face dropped. She hadn’t been expecting the competition to still be around.
“That’s why you were there today?” Kirkgordon queried.
“Is this for the slow kids not keeping up? Dammit, Churchy, you didn’t get the brains, did you?”
“Enough, Austerley! Grow up. Just cos she hasn’t got the hots for you any more, don’t bring it into everything.” Damn, thought Kirkgordon, that wasn’t the moment. Deserved, but not the moment. Cally’s not going to enjoy that.
“Boys! In case you’re wondering, this old girl’s had about enough of the pair of you. Maybe you could behave a bit more like Major Havers. Do continue, Arthur. Let’s get onto the important matters.”
“Gladly, dear lady, gladly. When we saw all this activity occurring we decided to try and get in, in front of the targets. It has taken some time and a bit of luck but we managed it today. Previously, we missed a copy of Zahn’s manuscript being sold in Zurich and a small Elder conducting baton changing hands in Boston. We think it may be the same buyer, but they are doing it through various different hands. Fortunately, we captured a source today and with a little persuasion we have obtained an address. Ah, here we are! The base. One of Her Majesty’s Air Force bases. I promised a pub but the officer’s mess will have to do. Draught on tap I believe. Even got the local brew. Damn fine dark. Mild, too, if you would prefer. One always has a dark.”
The limo doors were opened and Havers led his motley gathering inside the green, dashed mess building. The room was empty except for a single barman dressed in his finest white and black bow tie. Pictures of regiments and aircraft lined the walls and a number of solid but rather bland oak-coloured tables occupied the floor. Four chairs sat around each table and Havers pulled one out for Calandra.
“G&T, dear lady?”
“Perfect, Major.”
“Gentlemen?”
“Dark for me. Austerley’s is a mild with a chaser. Malt mind, no crap.”
“I can speak for myself, if you can keep that too-well-thought-of mouth under wraps. Major Havers, a pint of the finest mild and a dram of the single malt closest to the barman.”
“Very good, gentlemen.”
“And Havers?”
“Yes, Mr Kirkgordon?”
“I’ll repeat my earlier question. Who is SETA?”
“SETAA, sir, S-E-T-A-A, is one of Her Majesty’s lesser known but highly dedicated departments. And ever since you followed Mr Austerley down that grave near the Gainsville Pike we have been keeping a damn good eye on you both. Supernatural and Elder Threat Assessment Agency. We are not large in number and, indeed, most of our employees are, so to speak, freelance, but we have the ear of the top brass.”
“The Joint Military Command?” ventured Austerley.
“A good deal higher than that!”
“Number ten?” said Kirkgordon, duelling to be one up.
“Prime ministers come and prime ministers go. Her Majesty is our head.”
“So are you, like, MI5 then?”
“Mr Austerley, sometimes it would be prudent to take one at his word. Now, enough about where I come from and who I work for. The more pertinent question… there you go my dear… is exactly where you two stand. The dear lady I have had dealings with before and I know where her loyalty lies; despite hailing from outside these shores, she does stand for the good of mankind. As for yourselves, gentlemen, your track record is somewhat tainted. Let’s take that graveyard for a start.”
“That was his fault! All his bloody fault!” Kirkgordon protested. “I was running standard protection duty and this arse takes me down the hole of hell, just to get a glance at something of Carter’s. Bloody nightmares, a back that’s scored like a pork belly on Sunday and a rift between me and the missus that three months of therapy didn’t even begin to touch. That was his baby. He dragged me in, and if it wasn’t for me, we would have been dragged under!”
“There was a good chance to find items that would have led to Carter. It was over a hundred years, how was I to know they would still be there? And then you had to start shooting your pistols. Now you just shoot your mouth off,” Austerley responded.
“Hold it there you… oh, thank you Havers. It was all you, Indy! You know it. We know it. There’s only one thing that drives you. You’re just like Carter!”
“A fact I am all too aware of, Mr Kirkgordon,” interrupted Havers. “Now, just so we understand each other and understand how this relationship will work…”
“Relationship?”
“Yes, Mr Austerley, relationship. The relationship between yourselves and oneself. Now, we are all aware of your evasion of the FSB in Russia and a reliable source tells me that they are interested in whoever incapacitated one of their men in a metal container.” Austerley chuckled, as Havers continued. “Their interest seems even deeper in a certain gentleman who was seen evading them from a restaurant and who is believed to have helped in securing a potentially dangerous document for an unknown power and unwisely passing on secrets about said document. Also, our American friends are looking for a certain inmate from a very select asylum taken by a charlatan for an unknown purpose. This particular character is of interest now to Her Majesty’s Government as he was recently seen trying to purchase material believed to be required by a covert organization for a possible world-ending event. So yes, Mr Austerley, our relationship, in which I will direct and you will follow said directions, are we clear?”
“Nailed to your cross then,” said Kirkgordon. “I hope you believe in redemption and forgiveness too, Havers?”
“I believe in protecting this land of mine and we will be working together to secure that purpose. Now, all primed? Then cheers!”
Havers took a measured draught of his dark and looked intently at his new compatriots. Turning to the bar, he quietly asked the barman to leave, watching him exit before turning back to the assembly. His driver, Smith, who stood guarding the entr
ance, was the only other person in the room.
“So, now I need everything you know about what is to come. Why Zahn’s music? Why a conductor’s baton? Why Pickman paintings? Nightgaunts in Russia? And plenty of other darker beings protecting other artefacts. All being gathered together by whom? And why a cryptic message from the lips of the man who seized the baton for me? Have cheer, it will topple. What is happening, friends?”
“Austerley had the sense for a while, Havers. That’s how we tracked down the painting. The music was being sourced and found. As to what is going on, we haven’t any specifics, we are just following a smell in the wind.” Calandra swung her hair round clear of her face. “But it reeks of something Elder. A disturbance, judging how Austerley reacted. A rising of some sort. Remember the last time a statuette was found.”
“What happened?” Suddenly Kirkgordon felt like he was the only one who had missed class. Havers and Austerley looked aside, embarrassed, while Calandra enlightened him.
“Basically, certain individuals decided that bringing back one of these Elder gods would be a good idea. Or rather, allowing him to rise. They believe that these creatures exist in the deep waiting to be set free. The last time one rose, the world got lucky. The person that witnessed it believed they collapsed it by ramming it with a boat, but the word today is that other factors may have been in play.”
“They came from outer space, have been here from ancient times and first formed us,” added Austerley.
“Wait right there. Formed us? Only one person formed us and he’s the one thing I had to hang on to in all this hell.”
“But these are gods!”
“I don’t know what they are, but gods they are not.”
“Evil is what they are!” Calandra interjected. “I have seen too many fall to this blackness not to know what they are. Don’t embrace them, sweet Indy. Not everything fantastical is healthy.”
“And that is why you are on a leash, Mr Austerley,” said Havers. “My leash. You seem to have an inordinate attraction to these matters. Miskatonic University at one point, I believe. Professor of Occultic Affairs. Kept in the background though. You never published much. Well, not openly. But the private material made interesting reading. And a copy of the book! You scare me, Mr Austerley. Curiosity killed the cat and unfortunately it may also flatten the house this time too. Yet you have such knowledge I cannot find anywhere else, and so you are on my leash. Don’t make me pull it tight.”
Austerley supped on his mild with disdain. Also looking deep into his pint was Kirkgordon, musing on the situation. After some thirty seconds of uncomfortable silence, Havers interrupted his thoughts.
“What is it, Mr Kirkgordon?”
“Nothing. We really have nothing. We don’t know what except that it’s going to be big…”
“Cyclopean!”
“Shush, Indy. We don’t know where, either. All we have is a delivery address for a small piece of the puzzle. Where was the buyer going to send the package, Havers?”
“The plan was to take it to another town and from there post it, in the normal post, to a Scottish island off the West Coast. The island only has about a hundred people living on it. But that is where we are heading, once you sup up. There’s a Hercules awaiting us out on one of the pans.”
“Are we going covert or overt?”
“Overt I think, Mr Kirkgordon. I doubt Mr Austerley could be covert. We’ll pick up some essentials in Scotland when we land. It will be a boat to the island and a small one too, I believe. We’ll go armed. Never know what we will find.”
“No pistols, Havers. Unwise around Indy. Trust me.”
“As you suggest, Mr Kirkgordon, just a small side arm for myself in case of emergencies.”
Havers looked at his team. A haggard, recently beaten Elder junkie scared of guns. A broken-down former protection agent with serious marriage issues. And an extremely old woman whose leg seems to be falling apart. Oh well, he thought, I hear the fishing’s good.
An Island Welcome
“Is he always so quiet?”
“No, Mr Havers. Not always.” Kirkgordon had started addressing Havers as a Mister, deliberately ignoring his Major. Never having been a military man, he had a distrust of uniformed people and, despite working with many over the course of his former career, he had never fully accepted the notion that anyone was in complete charge.
“What’s he doing?”
“Crouching on the end of a boat staring into the depths of the sea.”
“There’s no requirement to be facetious. Calandra, what is he doing?”
Calandra, now dressed in tight blue jeans and a red crop top, over which sat a black leather jacket, turned round to face the pair. Kirkgordon could have sworn she was going to a rock concert, not a potential hellhole, and the knee-length black boots just encouraged these thoughts. She’s so like Alana. Aside from the extremely pale complexion, of course.
“He’s checking the deep,” said Calandra, “looking for any signs of disturbance. So far I haven’t seen anything. But this fog isn’t helping. I’m surprised auld Jim is capable of piloting this anywhere. There’s maybe twenty feet of distance. At least it’s calm. Looks like your tabs weren’t required, tough guy.”
Constant little digs, thought Kirkgordon. Little barbs about everything. Probably deserve it, though, for that comment in the mess. Damn. At least I’m getting something from her. Austerley’s gone so quiet since Havers called him out. He’s like a brooding vulture awaiting some poor bugger’s death.
“I’ll take my tabs all the same. Little bit eerie though, isn’t it?”
“In what way? What are you seeing, Mr Kirkgordon?”
“Hearing, not seeing. Or rather not hearing. Seagulls, where are they? I grew up on the coast and I don’t know any without some sort of bird life, fog or no fog. They would tail the boats looking for food.”
“When we left there were some. I know, cos one nearly crapped on my jacket.”
“Yeah, Calandra, and now listen… nothing except the lap of the water. No porpoise or dolphin or even a seal on the way over. That’s not uncommon, but combined with the total lack of gulls… something isn’t right. Austerley?”
“What?” Austerley spat back at him.
“Seagulls?”
“Stopped about ten minutes ago. Haven’t seen a fish either. Deadest water I’ve ever seen.”
“Oi! Jim! How far are we from shore?”
“Reckon a good ten minutes,” said the boat’s captain. “Hard to tell in this fog but that’s what the GPS says.”
“We will keep to our ‘visiting tourists’ plan,” said Havers. “How could we have known there were no birds? Should make a good question. Oh, and Mr Kirkgordon, what is that extra case of yours?” The case in question was narrow but long and flat in the third dimension. It had the look of a tough shell exterior.
“You advised weaponry, Mr Havers. So weaponry I have brought.”
“You were unable to find something smaller? Like my little Glock?”
“Austerley doesn’t like guns. Trust me, they make him freak. He becomes unpredictable and generally even more chaotic. Arrows don’t make the same sort of noise.”
“Ah, I see. I shall refrain until necessary.”
“Always a good maxim.”
“The best weapon,” Calandra interrupted, “sits in plain sight.” Leaning on her staff, she smiled and touched her lame leg knowingly.
“Is that a light up ahead?”
“Damn, your eyes are good, Churchy.”
Kirkgordon didn’t tell Calandra that he had seen the light just over her shoulder while casting an indulgent survey of her body. Oh God, help me focus.
“Time to make our entrance, so everyone look sharp, and look like a tourist. Oh, and Mr Kirkgordon,” Havers dropped to a whisper, “keep a damn good eye on Mr Austerley. He looks somewhat compromised to me.” Compromised! He had been in that damned institution for a reason.
Apart from the gentle lapping of
the water on the boat’s edge, there was only the gentle putt-putt of the engine. Gradually, a stone harbour wall could be made out, and the boat’s skipper gently steered alongside. Kirkgordon leapt up onto the pier’s edge and fastened a rope to the buttress. Reaching down to a smiling Calandra, he pulled her up, whereupon she hobbled until Austerley threw her staff to her.
“Straight back, skipper, then wait a maximum of two days. If you haven’t heard anything from us then it’s a full go for an island invasion.” The boat’s captain doffed his cap then threw some of the bags onto the quayside.
“Good luck, Major. See you soon.” With Austerley and Havers both on shore, the skipper calmly reversed the little boat and disappeared slowly into the gloom.
“Very little light considering we should be at the main harbour. Not a damn beacon or anything.” Havers scoured the area around him for any sign of life.
“Mr Havers,” whispered Kirkgordon, “your three o’clock, behind the wall. And that’s just the first one.”
“Hmm. Well, let’s make our acquaintance. You, behind the wall, where’s the nearest lodging? Here for a spot of bird watching. Possibly not tonight, blighters seem damn quiet. So where’s the nearest hostel, my good man?”
Austerley had wandered off to a spot on the quayside. Staring intently at a signpost, he was nearly left behind by the others, who were making their way to the local. Calandra was the first to see him dallying and strode back over.
“What is it?” A hand dropped onto Austerley’s shoulder, immediately breaking his mood and defences. She knew him too well.
“The names on the signpost,” he answered, enjoying the rubbing of a tight knot, “seem familiar.”
“Federal Place, Washington Avenue, La Fayette. Not very island to me.”
“No,” agreed Austerley, “not Gaelic, or even Scots. Not Norse either. But definitely familiar. Just can’t place them at the moment.”
“Cally, Austerley, get over here, this man’s going to show us to the local. Apparently they’ve got real ale on tap. Local stuff.”
