waved to him while Jeremiah stood at her side, studying the display in that intense, totally absorbed way he had. Shrewsbury waved back then approached, weaving his way through the crowd. As he came up to them, Kathleen grinned and welcomed him, then nudged her husband none too gently in the ribs. Jeremiah turned around and regarded Shrewsbury casually with his usual stony expression. Most people found that stare unnerving, especially with those hard, steel-blue eyes looking back at them like they were specimens he wanted to study. Shrewsbury understood that it was nothing personal; it was Jeremiah's normal reaction to anyone, close friend and stranger alike. Besides, he was used to it.
Kathleen hugged Shrewsbury and he shook hands with Jeremiah, who managed a faint smile and a nod of the head. "So, to what do we owe this pleasure?" she asked, her sing-song voice buzzing with a faint Irish brogue.
"The director of the museum is a former student of mine. He has a puzzle he would like the two of you to investigate. It concerns the disappearance of one of his researchers."
Jeremiah cocked an eyebrow. "Solving puzzles is not our profession," he said evenly in his strong, robust baritone.
Shrewsbury gave him an enigmatic smile. "This is one I believe you will appreciate."
Kathleen gave her husband a look of reproach. "We'll be happy to help in any way we can, Laban; lead the way."
Shrewsbury took them through the crowd to a bank of elevators, one of which took them up to the offices. He then escorted them to a suite used by the museum director. The secretary in the outer office directed them into the inner office, where they found a professorial type, middle-aged, portly, with thinning brown hair covering a bald spot on his head and a short-cropped Hollywood-style beard on his round, pudgy face.
He stood and came out from behind his desk to greet his guests and shake their hands. Shrewsbury introduced him as Dr. Theodore Carroway, and he invited the Arkentons to sit.
"I am pleased you agreed to see me," he began as he returned to his side of the desk. "I appreciate how valuable your time is."
"Laban is a good friend of ours," Kathleen assured him. "He would not have spoken to us on your behalf if he felt your problem was trivial."
"I appreciate that, Mrs. Arkenton, and I thank you for your graciousness."
"Not at all, Dr. Carroway, and please call me Kathy."
Carroway flashed a happy smile. "My friends call me Ted."
"So, how may we help you?"
Carroway leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. "Here at the museum we use endowments, grants, and contributions to fund research into various areas of the natural and physical sciences. We try to keep a tight control over these various projects, to make sure the money is not wasted on frivolous or crackpot endeavors, but occasionally an operation slips through the cracks. Why, just last year we cancelled funding for a project that was suppose to study the physiology of sleep but was actually used for some nonsense about predicting the future through dreams."
"Actually," Jeremiah said, "ESP dream research has a sound scientific foundation--"
Kathleen silenced him by putting her hand on his knee. "Now's not the time, Jerry."
Carroway cleared his throat with a nervous grunt. "Well, a week ago one of our physicists disappeared from his lab, and I believe it may have been due to what he was working on. He had been funded to conduct research on unifying relativity with quantum theory, but I'm afraid he may have been using his grant to conduct unauthorized experiments."
"Why do you believe he disappeared?" Jeremiah asked.
"He was seen going into his lab in the morning. No one saw him leave, yet when the security guards checked his lab after closing he was not there. Now, mind you, no one can say with absolute certainty that he did not leave on his own, but neither can anyone confirm that he did."
"Could he have gone out a window?" Kathleen inquired.
"No, his lab is in the basement; there are no windows."
"I take it you examined the lab," Jeremiah evaluated; "what was he working on?"
"I had hoped you could tell me, Jerry."
"I prefer Jeremiah."
"Oh dear! I am sorry--"
"I would like to see the lab," Jeremiah announced suddenly.
Flustered, Carroway at first made no move, but when the Arkentons stood he jumped up out of his chair and hastily led them and Shrewsbury out of his office and back to the elevators.
They went down into the basement level, and along the way, Kathleen said, "Try not to mind my husband's abruptness. He doesn't mean to be rude, he just has a straightforward manner."
Carroway nervously glanced askance at Jeremiah, but if he was offended by his wife's comment he gave no sign. "No, no, I understand completely."
The lab in question was under guard and locked. Inside, it looked more like an electrician's workshop than a science lab, yet the room was dominated by a large piece of unusual equipment. It resembled a reflecting telescope, except there was only a single piece of glass embedded in its base, which looked more like a lens than a mirror. It was some three feet in diameter and encased in a metal frame that was itself built into the cylindrical latticework. Cables attached to the superstructure ran off to various machines scattered around the room, which were in turn connected to monitoring and control equipment.
While Carroway hung back, the Arkentons and Shrewsbury examined the device. Kathleen voiced the obvious thought they all entertained: "Why build a telescope in a basement room with no windows?" No one ventured an answer.
In time they each gravitated to a different part of the room. Shrewsbury concentrated on the lens, while Kathleen checked out the electrical equipment, and Jeremiah found and began reading the researcher's notebook. It was Shrewsbury who broke the silence first.
"This is a scrying glass."
"A what?" Carroway asked as the Arkentons looked over at their friend.
"A magical device for viewing scenes from great distances."
Carroway barked out an astonished laugh, but Shrewsbury gave him a stern look. "There is nothing amusing about it. This is an extremely dangerous object, unless you know how to handle it. Among other concerns, it can act both ways, so that a being you are observing may observe you as well. And unlike a technological viewing device such a telescope, a being with a sufficiently powerful will may directly affect whatever it views."
Carroway burst out with a genuine horselaugh, which earned him disapproving looks from all present. "Surely you're not serious?"
"I am deadly serious, Theodore." Shrewsbury's tone sounded severe. "I see you haven't changed. You always were a stubborn student, and it would seem you still need to learn your lessons the hard way."
Carroway colored with anger and embarrassment, but before he could respond, Shrewsbury suddenly announced: "I'm afraid I must leave."
"So soon?" Kathleen objected as she walked over to him.
He smiled. "Yes, I have to be back in Arkham this evening and my flight leaves in an hour."
"Jerry and I were hoping to take you to dinner this evening." She sounded disappointed.
"My apologies, but when you come to Arkham next you shall be my guests instead." He took her hand, and she reached up to kiss him lightly on the cheek.
"We'll see you at the conference in July, Laban," Jeremiah said before turning back to the notebook.
Squeezing Kathleen's hand, Shrewsbury then turned towards Carroway as he began to leave. "I leave you in good hands, Theodore; if anyone can determine what happened it is the Arkentons. However, I strongly advise all of you that once you have completed your investigation, you destroy that device immediately. Good luck, and good day." And with that he left the room and headed down the hall.
Carroway waited until he had passed from earshot, then turned back to the Arkentons. "Surely we can disregard that nonsense about magic."
"At our peril," Jeremiah replied without looking up.
Kathleen added, "Laban may not be a scientist, but he is a leading scholar on the philosophy of science and its
relationship to metaphysics and epistemology. He is also an acknowledged theorist on the application of abstract mathematics such as hyperdimensional geometry to physical and metaphysical cosmology. Much of his expertise is in what people superstitiously call 'magic', so his warning is to be taken seriously."
Carroway's face purpled with anger again, but for a different reason. "Then Francis may have been using museum funding to perform crackpot experiments?"
Kathleen scowled, but she was interrupted by Jeremiah's even voice: "Perhaps not so crackpot."
Carroway scoffed, but he followed Kathleen as she went over to where her husband was sitting. "What've you found?" She leaned over him.
Taking a pen from the desk and ripping the top sheet off a legal pad, Jeremiah began scribbling out formulas. "I'm not sure." He sounded distracted. "The math is rather complex; I wish Robert were here."
Kathleen looked up at Carroway. "Robert is our son; he's currently doing postdoctoral work at Harvard on developing new methods of calculus."
"However," Jeremiah said, sounding more focused, "it would appear that your researcher had a rather unique theory to explain how a scrying glass worked."
"Oh, please, I need you to conduct a serious investigation. If you're going to waste my time on a wild goose chase--"
"Keep still and listen!" Kathleen spat, her Irish temper aroused.
Jeremiah tossed the pen onto the pad. "Based on what I've read, your researcher speculates that scrying glasses use tachyons the way a cathode ray tube uses electrons, to paint pictures on a specially prepared screen. He then attempted to construct a 'tachyon television' as he called it using science instead of sorcery." He paused as a faint smile cracked his lips. "Your researcher seems to have a rather wry sense of humor; he abbreviated his invention as the 'tacky-TV' in his notes."
"What in the name of Beelzebub is a tachyon?" Carroway sounded sarcastic.
From "The Peril Gem"
Eile Chica looked down past her feet at the pit of lava. It was maybe ten yards beneath them, but she knew they'd get a lot closer real soon. Looking up, she examined her restraints. Her wrists had been well lashed with a thick cord made of fibrous vines, and slipped over a hook that hung from a rope. The rope had been thrown over a cross-pole high above them, from which she and White-Lion dangled. She couldn't twist her body around far enough to see, but she heard the creak of the winch as it was turned, lowering them towards the lava at a tedious pace. She looked out in front of her. The tribe had gathered around the lip of the pit, and they danced, screamed, and gesticulated in a wild orgy of religious ecstasy, as others stood off behind the crowd pounding on hollow log drums.
"Uhh, Braveheart, I think we're in trouble."
Irritated by the inane comment, she scowled and gave White-Lion a dirty look. "Brilliant deduction, Sherlock," she growled in a sarcastic tone.
White-Lion jerked her head around, her eyes and mouth opened in large startled O's. "Oh, my! What brought that on?"
"Whaddya think, ya ditz?"
"You sound upset."
"Now, what makes you think that? A bunch of murderous savages want ta immolate us as a sacrifice to their god in punishment for trying ta steal their sacred jewel. Why the hell would I be upset?! Gaaah, sometimes you can be such a space-case!"
"Well, getting mad at me won't help."
White-Lion's words triggered an idea for how to escape. She realized it was a long shot, but she didn't see that they had any choice.
"Geeze, get a clue, will ya? We wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for you and yer hair-brained schemes."
"Hey! You can't blame this on me."
"Oh, yeah? Whose idea was it ta steal the Eye of the Devourer?"
"Well, it certainly wasn't my idea to sneak through the village at night."
"Yer the one who set off the alarm!"
"Only because you were about to step on
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