Elizabeth Mayland
(Katharine Youle)
6th May 1924
As you sit down for breakfast you see the newspapers are full of stories of the meteorite shower that reached all over the United Kingdom. A number of people had a few rocks crash-land in their gardens or through their houses, and the shower itself played havoc with the radio, causing interference that all but obliterated the BBC’s evening broadcast from Alexander Palace. You missed last night’s storm because your were at a meeting for Equal Rights for Women but reading the newspaper you see the meteor shower is due to continue tonight and make plans to watch it with friends.
Turning the next page you see an article about Carter the Great being back in town after a stint in America. He was a magician of some skill by all accounts but a bit of a showman and known for being keen on excess publicly. Last year he spent six whole hours suspended above the Thames in a wicker basket with little more than a chamber pot and a dry Martini. It was done to provide a spiritual focus for all mankind, according to him. You thought he was an idiot then but when you read his story a few days ago that he had planned to stop the comet from hitting the earth with the power of positive thought you had upgraded him to a total loon. You can imagine what your cousin, Richard Harker had said about it. He had studied all mention of Aelfred’s Comet in history, made every mathematical equation on its orbit, its size, its shape. Nearly every newspaper and cheap magazine had interviewed Richard about the comet. It was his work; it was his life, and Mister The Great had turned it into a publicity stunt. He had better hope that Professor Harker didn’t catch up with.
Your anger fades with the story on the next page about a vicious murder at the British Museum. It looks like a burglary went wrong, with the night watchman interrupting the killers and paying for it with his life in a brutal way. All the burglars got away with was an artefact that could only be worth a few hundred pounds and only to a collector. A chill goes through you at the thought of how low some people could go for a little money.
“Well, this is bit of a damp squib!”
You nod at your friend Bill Biggs and stare back at the sky. You stand in the garden watching the night sky. Unfortunately, all you can see at the moment is a bank of rolling clouds with flashes of light behind them. “At least the glowing means the meteors are burning up in the atmosphere.”
“It only needs one to get through in one piece,” Winston Donahue remarks has he fiddles with his lucky flight goggles. No matter where he was or how he was dressed, he always had them on his person. He knocked back his whisky. “There’s an awful lot of them travelling through the sky…”
The temptation to gain cover is nearly overwhelming but you fight the urge to run and settle for a steady walk to the house to refill your Pims. What did your friend Winston know? Silly really, worrying about something that was against the odds. What was it they said in the newspaper? A million to one chance? Even more than that? Not even worth thinking about-
The noise is the first thing that warns you, a high pitched hissing whine that sets your hair on end. The wall explodes in front of you in a cloud of dust and brickwork; a shockwave hurls you off your feet, shards of glass fills the air, sudden heat dries your eyes and scorches your throat. Then with an abrupt deafening whump, the chaos ends. Cascading brickwork is the only noise in the air. Slowly, gingerly, you shake to stars from your eyes and shrug off the debris, sitting up with a wince as you expect an injury and find none apart from a few cuts.
“W-What h-happened?” you mumble around a thick tongue, looking around. Most of the end part of the kitchen is gone, a hole blasted through the house into the garden. “Winston? Bill?” You get up, slowly at first, and follow the trail of destruction.
“God, this whisky has a kick to it!” you hear from the rose bush to your right. Winston climbs out, his movements unsure, shaking the thorns from his clothing. “You in one piece? Where’s Bill?”
“Here.” Biggs sits up from under a pile of earth, looking as if he has just risen from the dead. “I have really got a headache now…” He looks around blearily. “What the hell happened?”
They were thrown either side of a furrow that had been dug from house to the end of the garden, getting deeper with every foot travelled. The earth is baked hard, cooked like clay in an oven. And then you see it: there at the end of the ditch is a rock, the size of your fist, covered in cracks that glow bright green.
“Million to one, they said,” you mutter out loud. “I should’ve put a bet on it.”
7th May
After spending most of the morning arranging for the house to be repaired and the garden to be re-landscaped, you turn your attention to the rock. It sat there, still in the wooden box where Bill placed it last night. You wonder if his hand was any better, though remind yourself that you did warn him not to pick it up, despite his assurances that he could not feel any heat coming from it. According to him afterwards when he attempted to touch the rock he received a sharp wave of intense cold which numbed his hand senseless. It took an hour for sensation to return and only partially.
You stare at the rock: was it dangerous at all? The only person who could possible know the answer was Cousin Harker. You make drive to The Astronomical Society. Bill and Winston join you: Bill to find out if by touching the rock his legs were going to drop off or something; and Winston by the fact he didn’t have a plane to play around with.
You pull up outside the building. The Society had a grand title, but it was little more than an office in a block of other businesses. Having never trusted the rickety lift, you climb the stairs to the top. Each floor you pass becomes more and more a graveyard of fail business ventures until the top floor has only The Society and nothing else. You knock and enter. Harker’s assistant Shannon sits behind a desk. He looks up, recognises you, and waves you through to Richard’s office with a smile.
You enter to find the place in disarray, filled in every gap with rolls of maps and star charts. It was normally a mess but it looks even worse than normal. Richard comes walking swiftly out of a store room, his arms full of stuff. He drops everything when he sees you.
“Lizzie? Good lord, Lizzie old girl, what are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in months! And who are these gentlemen? Is everything all right?”
“Things are fine.” You introduce Bill and Winston. “You look – busy.”
“Very busy. I’m getting ready to leave for Wales in the morning. It sounds like a large piece landed in some place called Llangadfan. According to the locals the noise was like that of a bomb going off; the whole place lit up with the impact! Plus it set alight to most of the forest which I think they’ve got under control now. It could be a major discovery, Lizzie!”
“I’m glad for you. Do you want to see another for your collection?” You hand him the box. Brow furrowing, he quickly opens it. His gasp speaks volumes. “It fell last night, nearly killing us and nearly demolishing the house and the garden. As it is the birdbath will never stand straight again.”
Richard’s eyes are locked on the rock. “It’s beautiful! That glowing it’s doing there-”
“Don’t touch it!” Bill warns. “It freezes your hand solid!”
Harker snatches his fingers away from the box. “Freezes? That’s… unusual.”
“Is it safe?”
“Oh. Yes. Sure.” He puts the lid back on. “Probably.”
Winston raises an eyebrow at him “Probably?”
“Nobody got any hair falling out or anything odd like that? Good. Like I said, it’s safe then. It’s quite remarkable! I only wished I had more time to look at it.” Richard hands you back the box.
“You don’t want it?”
“Of course I do, but I’ve got larger fish to dynamite at the moment and not much time to do so. You keep hold of it for now for safe keeping, wait until I get back.”
“How long are you going?”
“Just a week, I’ll phone you when I return. I tell you, Lizzie; with your rock and the larger one, hopefully, plus any I get via the advert I’m going to put in the newspaper, this could be the making of my career.” Harker picks up the things he dropped and throws them haphazardly into a cardboard box. “Everything seems to be working well at the moment.” He face falls. “The only bit of bad news is that Carter fellow: he came to visit me today to ask all about the meteorites. I gave him a bit of a brush off and told him to come back tomorrow. He really is a self publicity-seeking pain! What with everything that happened I think the whole world is going mad about comets!”
You spend a few more minutes catching up with family news but you can tell Richard is dying to get packed. You leave him to his work and go back to the chaos of your house.
10th May
At morning breakfast again you see in the newspaper an advert which catches your eye and makes you cringe:
“Carter the Great is seeking any meteor rocks that fell in order to harness the power of the cosmos for his next great feat of daring and magic. Please send them to Mr C.T.Great, PO Box 132, Surrey.”
You can already imagine the cursing Cousin Harker would be doing when he reads it.
17th May
You begin to worry about Richard. A week has passed since he went to Wales and still there was no word from him. Had he found something of importance and decided to stay on longer? If that was true Harker would have sent word to someone. It seemed out of character. You try phoning his assistant but get no answer. You receive a call from Doctor Ogilvie, an old friend of Richard’s who works at the Greenwich Observatory and someone you have met a couple of times. He is equally as concerned about Harker but as he points out, what can you do? The man was in the middle of nowhere miles from communication. Still, you decide to leave it a day before taking steps to find him.
18th May
It is quite late at night when you receive the distressed call from Ogilvie. He went to The Astronomical Society figuring Richard must have sent word there, if even to let his assistant know that he would be away for longer. He found Shannon murdered, horribly mutilated. He also found a screwed up bit of paper which turned out to be a telegram from Harker, dated the 11th. Judging by the number of fingerprints over it Ogilvie reckons other people have read it – like the murderers. He has turned over the information to the police and pressed on them the danger to Richard. They have promised to contact the local bobbie down in Llangadfan to go and check on the professor.
19th May
Your night’s sleep is fitful as your dreams are plagued with dark figures chasing you through a forest of unending trees. Just as they reach your throat you awake in a start. It is early morning, and you get out of bed, unwilling to risk sleeping in case of any more bad dreams. You reach the breakfast table in a haze and see the headlines on the early editions are all about Shannon’s murder.
Later in the day you’re in your car coming home from one of your Women’s Rights meetings when you notice a black car following you. At first you think it is coincidence, but you take a few turns that make a complete circle yet the car is still there. You dive down a few alleys, fear beginning to rise as you wonder about who they are. Could they be behind Harker’s silence? You shake your head. No, you’re over reacting. You look back. The black car is nowhere to be seen. Part of you breathes a sigh of relief and puts it down to coincidence, but the sliver of fear remains.
20th May
You wake early again, still bothered by the dark dreams. You decide to find out directly how the police are getting on even though you know what the answer will be – Ogilvie said he would call as soon as he had any information.
The officer at the station reports no word from his man in Wales, and he listens to you again explain how Harker could be in danger from unknown agents if Shannon was killed. The officer nods in agreement and takes down notes, promising to do what he can, yet he seems only half hearted in his work this time. Confused and frustrated, you leave the police station and begin to wonder how long it would take to get to Wales.
21st May
The sleepless nights catch up with you and you wake at midday, yet you are filled with determination. You spend the rest of the day packing for Wales, booking a hotel in Llangadfan, and setting things in place for your house while you are away. Despite your attempts to do things by yourself, Winston and Bill insist on coming with you to Wales, which is slightly annoying as it makes you feel as it they are only doing it because you’re a woman. After spending an evening meal together at the Mayship Club (the only club in London that not only allow women in, also treat them as equals!), you head back to your house. The streets are beginning to become shrouded in fog, the mist turning sounds dull, and you cannot help but start at the shadows. Upon opening the door you can tell something is not right. Being careful, you turn on all the lights and pick an umbrella out of the stand to use as a club. You enter the front room. Everything is in disarray, with drawers open and things scattered and broken. Before you can curse, you notice the Ming vase is untouched, as is your gold sovereign collection, which is merely thrown around. Whoever broke in clearly did not do so for money.
You jump as the phone rings. It’s Winston. He has been burgled as well yet nothing has been taken. Your bewilderment at the break-ins turns to worry as he tells you that he tried phoning Bill but cannot get an answer. You quickly make a decision to meet Winston at Bill’s house. It might be a worry about nothing, you know, but you do not want to take the risk.
You pull up outside Bill’s house at the same moment as Winston, and you both run inside as you see his front door wide open. The place is in a mess like your house. A pool of blood lies in the doorway to the kitchen. Bill lies in a heap in the hallway. You rush to his side and feel for a pulse, shouting his name, fearing the worse. He groans as his eyes flicker open, reaching for the back of his head. You touch the egg size bump there but apart from that he seems in one piece.
Bill sits up, shaking his head clear. His words are slurred at first but they quickly become clearer as he explains what happened. As he entered the house he noticed the place had been turned over and was about to call the police when a figure in black robes leapt from the shadows. He fought him off, using his dentist tools as weapons, but just when he thought it was over he was struck from behind, knocking him to his knees. Then another robed man stepped out of the kitchen, brandishing a wicked looking dagger. It was then he got whack on the back of the head, and the next thing he knew was when you were waking him. He does not have a clue where the blood came from.
Winston calls the police and explains everything, telling of the burglaries, the attack, the blood, the knife, the attempted murder. But again they almost appear disinterested, and all they can say is: “We’ll look into it”. Disgusted by their attitude, he gives up. Staying together until morning might be a safer option you decide, and after picking up Bill and Winston’s suitcases you head back to your own home through the thickening fog together.
You are only minutes from your house when Bill decides to speak. “I still say we should’ve insisted on seeing the chief constable!”
You glance in your rear view mirror at him in the backseat. “It wouldn’t have done any good.”
“Why?”
Winston looked back. “Because I did insist! They simply didn’t want to know.”
“Just what is going on?” you mutter, partly to yourself. You start driving across Tower Bridge, absently noticing the fog creeping along the surface of the water. “God, Richard, I hope you’re all right-“
A violent impact on the roof makes you slide the car to a halt, the screeching of the tyres nearly bursting your eardrums. Then everything is still, only the quiet tick over of the engine breaks the silence. You stare at each other, trying to work out what happened. Then you look up and see two large foot-size dents in your roof.
“My bloody car!” you shout, and jump out of the door to see what caused the damage. Winston gets out, as does Bill, and together you look around.
“Maybe you hit something,” ventures Winston but you silence him with a glare.
“I hit nothing! Something hit us! Did you not see the dents?”
Bill sighs quietly. “I suppose reporting this to the police isn’t going to help much?”
You begin to shrug when Bill suddenly goes flying, landing in a slide across the road. A blow to you chest hammers the breath from your body before you have a chance to react. Winston shouts as you drop but before he nears he is thrown back, suddenly grabbing at his throat. The fog eddies around the unseen attacker, making a general shape far larger than a man, and fear hits you as hard as any punch. Winston gasps for air, his sucking rasps forcing you into action. You run to help but Bill gets there first. He hurls punches and kicks wildly in the direction of Winston, and you hear them connect with a wet, fleshy slap. An animal-like howl splits the air which you hope is in pain. With a fierce yell you try to join in the fight, but Bill is thrown in your way and you both go down in a crumpled heap. He apologises quickly, even though you are sitting on him, and rushes to his feet to help Winston again. He flails at the unseen attacker but all in apparent vain; Winston is lifted off his feet, hovering in mid air like a thrashing puppet. He screams as puncture wounds appear on his shoulders. Blood starts to flow, but upwards, filling invisible veins, starting to reveal more than a shape. You frantically look round for a weapon but there is nothing. Then you see the car.
You leap into the driver seat and floor the accelerator, roaring towards Winston. He stops screaming for a single moment to stare at your rapid approach in confused terror, and then he manages to twist himself around. You pull the handbrake and slide the back of the car around, wheels squealing as they burn. The body shudders as it hits something and you hope to god it isn’t your friend. The car stops dead as it hits the kerb. Taking a deep breath, you get out, dreading what you might see. Winston is on the floor, holding his wounds, his teeth gritted against the pain, but he manages to give you a nod of thanks.
“Where did it go?” you ask.
“It smashed through the barrier,” Bill waves. The three of you gather in the gap and stare down at the Thames, but all you can see is fog.
“Is it dead?” you ask quietly.
“If the water doesn’t kill him, the rats will,” Bill mutters.
There is a pause before anyone decides to speak again. “Can anyone tell me,” says Winston, “what in god’s sweet name of all that is holy and bright what exactly ‘It’ was?”
“I don’t know,” you answer. “And I’ve got the feeling it isn’t something I want to know in my life time.” You let your breath out slowly. “With this, with Mr Shannon, with Bill’s attacker… We have to find Richard. Not only to make sure if he is all right, but to find out some answers. This all seems to revolve all around him and I’m not accepting it as a coincidence. Winston, let’s get you to a hospital.”
“No. Just get me a whisky and a couple of aspirin and I’ll be as right as rain in the morning. Anyway, I somewhat get the feeling it isn’t safe to be in London at the moment…”
“For any of us,” adds Bill. “So when do we leave for Wales?”
You look west. “Now.”
22nd May
You take turns to make the long drive to Wales, each continuously checking for any following vehicles, and by the time you reach Llangadfan you are all quite ready for a rest. You spot a place called The Cann Office Public House and stop for some food and a drink. Feeling suspicious of everyone, you pick a table by the back of the wall.
After eating, you are about to get up to inquire about the local policeman when the door opens and two men walk in. One of the men glances at you twice.
“Lizzie?” he ventures. “Elizabeth Mayland, is it you?”
You look up from the drink your were pretending to have. The man seems familiar… “Mister Ogilvie! Oh it’s good to see a friendly face! I assume you’re here to look for Richard as well?”
He nods. “I think he might be-”
“-in some trouble?” you finish for him. “Yes, I’m beginning to see that now. We’ve had some trouble-”
“-as well,” he finishes for you. He exchanges looks with his colleague.
“There seems to be a lot of that going round,” says the man. “I’m getting a drink. Anybody want one?”
You introduce Winston and Bill, and Christian points out his friend Arthur Catt to you. He quickly explains about the meeting he had planned with a policeman and invites you to join him.
The door opens again and you hope it is the officer. But much to your surprise Charles Carter, Mr ‘The Great’ himself, walks in. He pauses as he sees Christian, then approaches gingerly. “Mr Ogilvie,” he nods.
Christian doesn’t shake his extended hand. “Now I’m guessing you are not here by chance,” he replies coolly. “Are you really this pathetic in your attempts for publicity that you would follow me?”
Carter is already shaking his head. “Please, Mr Ogilvie, this has nothing to do with that. In fact I wish I had never heard about the meteorites! I’ve had a break in, been nearly killed, I can’t go back to my home, my life! The only connection I’ve got to all of it is the comet, and that means Harker, and that means you!”
“We’ve been attacked as well!” you say. “By black robed men. And something else…”
“Something not very nice,” adds Winston, grimacing as he touches his shoulders.
Christian bits his lip. “Me and Arthur had a spot of bother as well with something not very nice.”
The door opens again and this time it is the policeman along with a shifty looking fellow. Christian gives him a nod and a wave. “Are you Mr Ogilvie?” The policeman shakes his hand. “I’m PC Gray, we spoke on the phone.”
“Pleasure. Can we go to and find Harker now? I’ve just received news that has me doubly worried.”
“Of course.” The policeman gestures to the shifty man. “This is Thomas Moore who will be guiding us to the cottage Harker has rented. It’s in a nearby forest but it’s a bit of a maze getting there.”
“Excuse me, Officer” a voice interrupts. A man stands behind your small group. “I couldn’t help overhearing, but did you mention a small cottage in the forest?”
The policeman nods. “And who might you be, sir?”
“I’m Peter Roberts, Estate Agent.” The man motions towards a rather wealthy looking couple seated nearby. Their servants stand a discrete distance away. “I have been appointed by the estate of the late Mr Joseph Lewis to sell his land and property and the Earl and his betrothed were to view it today. However the key holder, Mr Dafydd Jones, has advised me that the chap who recently rented the property for a week has not returned the key and by all accounts may still be there. I wonder if I could have some help with directions to the cottage, and if necessary evict the trespasser-”
“Poppycock!” Christian snorts.
“Richard’s no trespasser!” you begin hotly but PC Gray holds up a hand for quiet.
“Now, now, let’s all stay calm.” The policeman brushes some dust off his lapels. “I’m sure this is all some big misunderstanding. Let’s sort all this mess out. Moore, lead the way.”
The shifty man mutters something under his breath which doesn’t sound too pleasant and motions for everyone to follow him. Setting off with your entourage, including a hesitant Carter, you all drive in your vehicles to the entrance of the forest before setting off on foot in search of Professor Richard Harker...
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