Ep 1

On the south side of town, within an old warehouse located on Strand Road, three individuals stood together. Two of them, a lady of thirty and her partner of forty held lit torches, whilst their companion stood in the darkness.

“What can you feel Kenneth?”

The medium turned to face Nicola, noting the shorn dark locks and jeans.

“There is definitely some kind of presence here.”

“Is it who we are looking for?” Bert asked.

“Just give me a moment will you.”

Kenneth closed his eyes and opened himself to the world of spirit. As he did this, a cold breeze blew across his face.

“I am here,” the medium said.

Nicola shone the torch toward him, noting the calm face.

“Are you Edmondo?”

“Edmondo, yes.”

“We seem to have succeeded,” Bert commented.

“Edmondo,” Nicola said softly. “Is the story of the gold true?”

The medium’s placid face suddenly hardened.

“You know of this?”

“It’s only local gossip,” Bert said.

“Would you shut up?” Nicola said.

The medium turned very slowly.

“You should not be here.”

Nicola swallowed hard.

“Where is the gold Edmondo?”

The medium raised his arms high, a strong breeze swept from the dark void, and his voice rose in volume.

“I hear you, I hear you, I hear you.”

“Who’s he talking to?” Bert asked.

“Edmondo,” Nicola coaxed. “You are talking to us.”

“Never!” the medium roared. “I serve a lower power!”

“A lower power?” Bert asked.

Nicola flashed a warning glance.

“Come forward Kenneth,” she said. “Come out from the darkness.”

A second breeze blew up, surrounding the companions. Dust rose around them as cold hands suddenly gripped their fragile throats.

“What the hell is happening?” Bert asked as he began coughing.

“Kill the non-believers,” the medium commanded.

Nicola tried to scream, but the words were choked off. Bert fell to his knees as his now bloated face turned a livid blue. As life began to ebb, Nicola keeled over and saw the medium smiling.

Ep 2

The panda car drew up outside the crime scene that morning and the two familiar officers climbed out. Strolling inside they noted the doctor’s presence.

“What have you got for us?” DI Nixon asked.

The medic glanced up.

“They were both manually strangled. You can still see the compression marks.”

“Are we looking for a woman?” sergeant Percy asked.

As the doctor stood, he shook his head.

“A tall, but strong bloke did this sergeant. It’s strange though.”

“Why do you say that?” the DI asked.

“There is no sign of struggle sir. It looks as if they died willingly.”

The CSI team were scouring the warehouse for clues as the medic left. An officer handed the DI a small pink card.

“We found this in the woman’s pocket sir.”

The DI glanced at it.

“Ghost club? Nicola and Bert. Ring any bells sergeant?”

“I have heard of them. Mostly cranks you know sir. Their office is located just off Market Walk.”

“We had better go there then.”

The car sped off as the hearse arrived to collect the bodies.
Market Walk was located near the street of the same name. A rather dank part of town, with boarded up shops and a rundown economy.
Along that street stood a quaint little office and entering quietly, the two officers found themselves staring at a short dumpy woman who doubled as a receptionist.

“Can I help you?”

The DI handed the card over.

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news but the owners are no longer with us.”

The shocked woman dropped the card upon the simple desk.

“We need to know why they were at the warehouse madam,” Percy added.

The woman trembled for a moment.

“It was an official investigation sir. Crikey. How is Kenneth?”

Nixon glanced at his sidekick.

“Who’s he madam?”

“The medium sir. He went with them.”

“Why go there?” Percy asked.

The woman pulled herself together.

“They were investigating the legend of the gold sir. You know, Edmondo.”

The DI raised his eyebrows.

“Would you know where we can find him?”

The woman opened a drawer and pulled out a small appointment book. Opening it at the correct page, she read the address.
Nixon thanked the receptionist and the officers stepped outside. Reaching the car, Percy said, “I remember that story from school sir. I thought it was just that.”

“We need to speak to this medium my boy. Next stop Bridge Lane. On the way, you can fill me in on this gold story.”

The old legend slowly emerged of course.

In the year 1780, a Spanish vessel had berthed at the town. Edmondo, the ship’s captain, had unloaded a crate of gold doubloons at the wharf. For some unknown reason he had promptly buried it before heading out to sea again.

Edmondo never returned, and as time passed, the river silted up. Today, the town had no exit to the sea, and the warehouse was located where the gold was thought to be.

“I think we are here sir.”

Nixon saw the line of posh homes as they drew up.

“Let us see if this bloke is in shall we?”

As the door opened, Nixon handed over his warrant card.

“What is this about?” Kenneth asked.

“We need to speak inside sir,” Percy said.

After entering a rather posh sitting room, with a plasma television plonked in the far corner, the medium sat quietly upon an ornate chair.

The officers remained standing.

“Can you tell us about your whereabouts last night?” Nixon asked.

“I was here sir. I had felt rather unwell.”

Nixon produced the card and handed it over.

“The receptionist said you were with them.”

The medium smiled and handed it back.

“I phoned the receptionist to cancel sir. When I’m ill I cannot function.”

Percy glanced at the floor, spotting the gleaming black shoes.

“Wear those did you?”

“Of course sir.”

He reached down and picked them up. As the medium watched, he examined the souls.

“These have been cleaned.”

“I do try to be neat sir.”

“I’m not satisfied,” Nixon said grimly.

“Has something happened?” Kenneth asked.

“The team ended up dead sir.”

“Gosh.”

“Take him to the car Percy. I’ll order a search.”

“You need a warrant for that,” the medium protested.

“Don’t you worry,” Nixon hissed. “I’ll have one within the hour.”

The DI was as good as his word. Fifty minutes later, Nixon returned with the search team.

“Open every drawer and check every nook and cranny,” he ordered. “I want proof he was there.”

The officers started rifling through the entire home, hunting for that crucial evidence which would link the suspect to the crime. After a couple of hours, only one had come to light.

“I suppose this book on the legend is a tenuous link,” Percy conceded.

“It proves he knew of the story,” the DI said. “He must have returned here and cleaned everything.”

“The car has been removed for forensics,” Percy reminded him.

“That should turn up something. No car is totally clean.”

“He’s a cool customer sir.”

“Cool or not Percy. His so called career is over.”
 
Ep 3

As the sun went down, Percy walked inside his superior’s office smiling wryly.

“The forensic boys were successful?”

“They certainly were sir. Traces of lipstick that matches Nicola’s, and dust from the warehouse.”

“That is enough to charge him sergeant. I’m going to enjoy this.
Bring him to the interview room please.”

When Kenneth entered the intimidating environment and sat before the simple table, DI Nixon smiled back.

“What do you think is about to happen?”

Kenneth coughed.

“You tell me.”

“You are being charged with double murder sir. Anything you say will be used as evidence in court.”

“You are also entitled to one phone call and a lawyer,” Percy added.

“Are you finished?” the medium asked.

You wish to say something?” Nixon asked.

“I only want to return to my cell.”

The DI nodded.

“Take him away Percy. We can speak to him on the morrow.”

As he was led out, he smiled a cold dark smile.
The cells were quiet now. Midnight had come and gone. The officers had left for bed, but Kenneth was still awake. He sat upon the single bunk, listening to the sound from the front desk. After a moment, he walked to the cell door and banged continuously.

“What’s up?” the desk sergeant shouted.

“I need a drink mate.”

“Hold on then.”

A few minutes later, the door opened and the sergeant appeared with the hot coffee.

“This is your last till the morning.”

The medium took it, throwing it onto the floor.

“What was that for?” the sergeant asked.

The medium raised his arms high, a strong breeze ripped through the air, and the sergeant started chocking violently. As he crashed to the floor, the medium faded from view.
 
Ep 4

Charly was dozing softly as his phone rang from the bedside cabinet. He yawned loudly and picked the mobile up.

“Whoever it is I’m dead.”

A gruff response woke him up at once.

“What time is it? Five?”

He glanced at the clock and groaned.

“Look Nixon. Are you sure you need me?”

He paused to hear the reply.

“Okay. I’ll pop over. Grant is not here so I’ll have to walk.”

Charly paused once more.

“A car would certainly help. I’ll dress now.”

When he arrived at the station, he was met by a flustered DI.

“I hope you woke me up for a damn good reason.”

“Our prisoner escaped after killing the desk sergeant Charly,” Nixon informed him.

“You mean the other officers just watched him leave the building?”

“He seems to have just disappeared,” Percy added. “The CCTV saw everything.”

“Can I have a look at it?”

As he watched the footage in the interview room, the two officers watched his reaction.

“What do you think?” Nixon asked.

“It’s a neat trick sir. Who is he?”

“A medium by the name of Kenneth. He is also implicated in the murder of two people. Happened over on Strand Road.”

“Where that warehouse is?”

“Same place,” Percy added.

Charly thought this over.

“Whatever he is sir, he is extremely powerful. Who were the victims?”

“A couple of ghost hunters,” Nixon replied.

“Then the explanation is simple,” Charly said. “Your medium has become possessed by a dark entity. That sailor chap, eh, Edmondo is the likely candidate.”

“Would that explain the vanishing act?” Percy asked.

“What you see is a perfect fusion of material and spirit. With those powers, he is extremely dangerous.”

“He denied the crime of course,” Nixon chipped in.

“In his state, he would not remember it sir. You can’t really blame him for this. Call him an unwilling accessory.”

“We still need to find him,” Percy said.

Charly smiled and muttered, “Find the gold and you find him.”

The officers glanced at each other.

“Fetch that book Percy. It’s time to do some reading.”

As the book was fetched, the unwilling medium was standing inside the darkened warehouse. The sun started to rise as he surveyed the potted floor.

“Tell me where it is.”

A strong breeze enveloped him and started to ruffle the floor. Slowly but surely, the dust was blown away as a section of the floor began to rupture. From the earth itself, a small box of doubloons rose into full view.

“Ah, my missing gold,” the medium said calmly. “Back in my own hands at last.”

He walked forward as a vehicle drew up outside.

“Who can that be?”

He ignored it and picked the small, but heavy box up.

“Hold it right there mate,” Nixon shouted.

The medium turned slowly, laughing to himself.

“Mr Nixon and his faithful lapdog. Who is the other?”

“I’m Charly, Esmondo. Put the gold down.”

“I am only collecting what is rightly mine.”

“Three people have died already,” Percy said. “You can’t get away with that.”

“They stood in the way.”

“What about Kenneth?” Charly asked. “Let us talk to him.”

“I am afraid that is not possible. You see, he has crossed over.”

“A fourth murder,” Nixon hissed.

“He went willingly,” Esmondo replied. “I assure you of that.”

“In the cold hands of death?” Charly asked.

“Not so cold as you think,” Esmondo said. “Now let me pass.”

“We can’t do that,” Nixon told him. “We will die if necessary.”

Esmondo laughed again.

“If heroism is what you want, who am I to disagree?”

He raised his arms and a strong breeze was quickly summoned.

“Just give it up,” Charly advised.

“Never.”

As the breeze rose rapidly, the human cadaver stood motionless.

“If I were you, I’d run.”

The advice struck a chord in Charly’s mind. Jerrix the cat had said something similar. Such a long time ago now.

“Get him Percy,” Nixon said.

As the officer moved forward, a whirlwind picked him up and tossed him across the floor.

“Are you alright?” Nixon asked.

“I think so sir,” the officer replied.

As he picked himself up, Charly shouted, “Your power seems to be weakening Esmondo. What’s the problem? Don’t like the sun?”

Esmondo glared as Charly ran back to the double doors.

“Have some more then!”

He pushed with every bit of strength he had. As the door slid open, the sunlight swept inside.

“Nooooo!”

The being was suddenly engulfed in vapour as the box of useless gold crashed to the floor. He staggered back, trying to summon his power, but it was far too late now.

Screaming wildly now, the vapour stream intensified until at last, it faded from view.

“Has he escaped again?” Nixon asked.

Charly shook his head and walked over to the box of gold. Picking it up, he carried it back to the officers.

“He died of greed. If died is the correct term.”

“How will I record this little lot?” the DI asked.

Charly smiled.

“It beats me. You’ll think of something.”
 
Ep 5

The sunlight blazed into the pleasant flat as Charly fed the loving cat.

“Have to buy you some more love.”

As the cat purred away, the day’s strange events played through his mind. Especially the bit about running away.

“You know Christine; I tried that during our nightmare.”

The cat started feeding happily, as Charly stepped away. Out of curiosity, he walked to the open window and looked down toward the road. Everything was normal, which was a bonus.

“Something is not quite right,” he muttered.

He saw Grant’s mini draw up and the sixties friend leap out.

“He looks in a hurry.”

He strolled to the front door as his friend arrived.

“What’s the hurry?”

Grant stared at him.

“I think you are in deadly trouble mate.”

Charly stepped aside as Grant ran inside. Within the lounge, his friend paced the floor.

“What do you mean by trouble?”

Grant spun around.

“I am being followed by you. Since I got up this ruddy morning.”

“Not possible mate. Nixon needed my help again.”

Grant lurched forward and gripped his shoulders wildly.

“It was you Charly! Your eh, simulacrum. You know, doppelganger.”

Charly’s face went white. As Grant released him, he gazed toward the feeding cat.

“You understand what that means?” he stammered.

“Damn right I do. You will die shortly. That is why I came.”

Charly ran to the window and looked down once more.

“Oh crikey!”

Grant joined him, and saw his friend gazing up from the centre of the busy road.

“See what I mean?”

Charly nodded as the future ghost vanished.

“Turn on the television will you?”

Grant dashed over and did so. The picture showed the latest building to be opened in town. A tall gleaming skyscraper that locals thought looked ghastly. Indeed, they had attempted to stop its very construction. Charly gazed in utter horror. His cold lips trembled as he pointed at the screen.

“I’m there too.”

Grant looked and saw his friend standing just outside the monstrous creation...

Ep 1

Charly sat up in a cold sweat. He tapped the alarm, which deactivated it at once. He gazed around at the gloom as his mobile went off. He snatched it up to answer.

“It’s you Nixon. Rather early to call.”

He listened carefully.

“Yes I had a nightmare about the PM’s visit. It ended with my demise.”

“What? Your nightmare ended with Grant and I being released? I remember that too. Look sir. Allow me to phone him. Why not pop over at nine? Great. When is she visiting?”

Charly hissed at the reply.

“It would be tomorrow mate.”

The call ended and he phoned his friend.

“The DI and I had the most incredible nightmare mate. Oh, I see. How did your one end? You melted? I remember that. How did my own end?
Ran down by a killer hearse mate.”

Charly laughed as Christine nibbled his right ear.

“Nixon is coming over at nine. I need you too. This obviously means something. Do I still have the card? Hold on...”

Charly reached across and opened the bedside drawer. He saw the white card quite clearly.

“Yes I still have it. Just as long as Nixon does not tear it up eh? Okay mate, see you then.”

Charly put down the mobile and climbed from his warm bed. Wandering across to the window, he noticed that the storm of last night was still in progress.

“It’s raining cats and dogs darling,” he muttered as the cat brushed against him.

Charly padded through to the kitchen and poured himself cereal. He carried it to the lounge and ate slowly. His active mind tried to work out why three people shared the same nightmare. Even to him it was obvious. The warning could not be ignored.

As nine arrived the front door was rapped. He found the DI and Grant chatting together. His old friend’s grey beard was still too long, and the multi-coloured poncho had still not been washed.

“Nice of you both to come. Where is Percy by the way?”

“I decided to leave my sergeant out of the loop. This is far too weird.”

They sat in the lounge as Christine watched from atop the sofa. As she purred softly, they compared notes.

“For myself,” Nixon explained. “First came the dark knight who killed the PM. Then I had you both arrested. Next came the gator attack, and your release.”

“You don’t remember the explosion or fireball then?” Charly asked.

“Not in the slightest.”

“How about you Grant?”

“For me, everything is the same. After the release, we came back here. Then came the fireball and I eh, melted. I also remember you rambling about skewed reality.”

“Yes I was. After you melted, I tried to flee. As I crossed the road, a hearse came out of nowhere and rammed me. Last thing I remember was an alarm clock. Turned out to be mine.”

“Can people share dreams?” the DI asked.

“No idea,” Charly replied. “At least there was one thing I did get right.”

“Which was?” Grant asked.

“I warned Nixon that we would work together.”

“I remember that,” the two males said.

“Could it be a warning?” Grant suggested.

“You don’t seriously suggest that these events could start tomorrow?” Nixon asked.

“I would not poo poo it Nixon,” Charly said. “If we do that all hell could break loose.”

“You suggested matter transmission,” Grant told him.

“I also suggested warped reality,” Charly said. “The only problem is lack of technology. Even I doubt the military could build such a thing.”

“So we are back at stage one,” Nixon said. “Nothing real to go on.”

“Seems like it,” Charly conceded.

“Why not call the visit off,” Grant suggested. “You know? Break the sequence.”

The DI shook his head.

“I could not do that without a damn good explanation. Then I would answer for it.”

Charly noticed the DI looked rather nervous.

“What’s up?”

“Triad threatened me with demotion to traffic warden, if anything went wrong with this visit.”

Charly and Grant smiled.

“Quite right too,” they said.

“So what do we do?” Nixon asked in desperation.

“Close the pool and phone the Russian space agency would be a good start,” Charly advised. “Oh yes, evacuate the monastery.”

“Seems that I don’t have much choice. Will that work though?”

“At least we will have tried mate,” Grant said slowly.

As the DI left, he looked extremely concerned. When the door shut, Charly looked grave.

“I’ll phone Triad about this. Perhaps an outside opinion is required.”

Grant smiled at him.

“Let’s hope she does not lock us up!”

Charly made the call from his bedroom, as the cat chose to keep a sharp eye upon Grant.

“I’m telling you the truth my dear. We had a shared dream.”

Charly listened.

“I don’t care how crazy it sounds. Are you lot conducting an experiment?”

He heard the woman’s sharp reply.

“At least give us a few pointers.”

There was a pause.

“Thanks for no help.”

He disconnected and returned to the lounge.

“By the look upon your face, I take it she cannot help.”

“You are damn right. Scientifically impossible indeed.”

“We are running out of time,” Grant warned.

Charly stared at him.

“I know that mate. Let’s hope the DI has better luck.”
 
Ep 2

As soon as Nixon entered the station, he grabbed Percy by the shoulder.

“Take three men and close the pool.”

Lowering his voice to a whisper he said, “I received a bomb threat.”

“Right sir. What will you be doing?”

The DI looked grim.

“Phoning Russia my boy. There are international repercussions.”
Sergeant Percy moved toward the door, pointing at three of his colleagues.

“You lot with me.”

The DI entered his office and slammed the door. Taking a deep breath, he phoned Russia and after twenty minutes, he was put through to the space agency.

“Hello Demitry. DI Nixon here. We believe someone has sent a signal to Nikov 2, instructing it to fire its thruster tomorrow. Can you check?”

There was a long pause.

“Are you sure everything reads correctly?”

There was a second pause.

“Okay then. Just keep checking.”

As he put the phone down he muttered, “Thank goodness my Russian could cope.”

He left the station at once, commandeering a panda car. With lights and sirens sounding, he drove at full pelt toward the monastery and the doomed nuns. When he drew up, the locked gates refused him entry.
He stared at them for a moment, before climbing carefully over and dropping onto the path beyond. He ran to the main building, and was relieved when he was given entry.

“As I see it Mother Superior you have two choices. Either leave as instructed or risk being blown to pieces tomorrow.”

The lady was none too pleased.

“Mr Nixon. If GOD requires a sacrifice, everyone here will gladly provide it. You see sir; we have something you obviously lack. Faith.”

“I appeal to your humanity,” the DI said. “The threat is real madam.”

“No doubt it is sir. We are staying put.”

The DI was downcast by the response and once he reached his vehicle, he sped toward the pool and Tressle Street.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the closed sign and his men waiting outside.

“Well done Percy. At least they listened.”

“I’ve ordered sniffer dogs sir. They should be here soon.”

“Excellent. Let me know if they find anything. I need to see someone.”

He turned the car around, and drove at high speed back towards Charly and the flat. Once inside, he delivered the good and bad news.

“At least one part of the chain has been broken,” Grant said.

“Only until the dogs confirm no bomb,” the DI replied. “It’ll be open tomorrow I fear.”

“Then we are stuffed,” Charly said.

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” the DI said.

“We still can’t explain the events though,” Grant reminded them. “These things simply don’t happen.”

“I see your point,” Charly conceded. “Problem is we are running against time itself.”

“Let’s try another angle,” Nixon suggested. “If we assume it will happen, regardless of what we do, the next question is...”

Charly answered that one.

“How did it happen?”

“Exactly,” the DI said. “What was the precise mechanism that allowed it to happen?”

“Certainly not the warping of space and time,” Grant chipped in.

“Highly unlikely here,” Nixon replied.

“I still think we are missing something important,” Charly said. “If reality cannot be warped to that extent, then something else can.”

“Drugs or subliminal messages could produce a similar effect,” Grant suggested.

The DI looked at him.

“There speaks the words of an addict.”

“True,” Grant replied. “That is all we have left.”

“Could you check the water supply?” Charly asked Nixon.

“Sure, I can phone from here.”

“Good man. Now, this subliminal message would have to come from a transmitter. If we experienced a test run, then it would have left visible traces.”

The DI headed for the bedroom as Charly walked over to his VCR.

“I made an overnight recording you see. I wanted to view that porn film.”

Grant was surprised by the admission.

“Christine must be jealous.”

Charly glanced back as the tape rewound.

“Nearly there.”

“I phoned the water board and they are checking,” Nixon said wandering back. “What are you up to?”

Ep 3

Charly stepped back from the television.

“Just checking a theory.”

He sat down as the tape played. After an hour of this, the picture suddenly scrambled. Charly hit the stop button.

“There is the proof. Now I’ll apply sound.”

As the tape played, strong images flashed across their eyes. Charly turned it off.

“It’s definitely a subliminal message mate.”

“For what purpose?” Grant asked.

Charly thought quickly.

“It must be designed to frighten people to death. That means the PM, that woman, the nuns, and not forgetting myself and Grant.”

“That sounds pretty solid to me,” Nixon admitted.

“Apart from the PM’s visit,” Charly asked. “Anything else going on tomorrow?”

There was a moments silence.

“Hold it a second,” the DI said. “A quantity of diamonds are due to be delivered to our bank tomorrow.”

“Then that is the real target,” Charly said. “We are not dealing with aliens or rogue scientists this time. We are dealing with old fashioned crooks.”

The DI was smiling now. Crooks he could understand.

“So where is the transmitter?” Grant asked.

“To be that strong, it must have swamped every signal within twenty miles. Which means it is close by. We should be looking for an old TV detector van.”

The DI pulled out his radio as the bedroom phone rang.

“Just ignore it,” Charly said. “Now we know the truth.”

“Sergeant Percy? Good. Now listen. Send out an APB on a TV detector van pronto. When located advise the armed response unit to engage. Have you got that?”

When the answer came, the officer switched it off.

“Now we are getting somewhere,” he muttered.

“Will you call the visit off?” Grant asked.

“With this ongoing operation, I am well within my rights,” Nixon replied. “I’ll do that once they have been caught and dealt with.”
Nixon left them at that point, racing toward the station with lights flashing. At the main junction, he got the expected call.

“Red van spotted near Baker farm. Armed unit on way.”

“Baker farm?” the DI muttered. “I’m going the wrong way!”

He slammed on the brakes and spun the panda car around 360 degrees. Pushing his foot to the floor, the car sped off toward the expected encounter.

Within a small grey van built during the swinging 60’s, four desperate men waited for the morrow to arrive. They had planned this bloody heist during the previous three years, and were quite willing to die for it.

As Tonky took a piss outside, he clearly heard the wail of approaching police cars. He dashed inside at once.

“They are on to us!”

He grabbed his shotgun and dashed outside, just as the armed response unit arrived on the scene.

“Damn pigs!” he screamed before letting off both barrels.”

The vehicle halted and three officers dashed outside. As they took up position behind the wrecked car, a hail of shot arrived to shatter the fuel tank. The vehicle exploded at once, even as the DI arrived himself.

“Oh ****!”

He hit the brakes and leapt out as shot spattered around him. Reaching inside his jacket, he pulled his weapon free.

“Give yourself up!” he screamed.

“Go to hell copper.”

“What a ruddy position to be in,” he said.

Nixon produced his radio and called for backup as the shot reigned down.

“Can’t ruddy well sit here.”

He spotted the adjacent tree and ran for it. As he threw himself down, his own car exploded.

“What an end to quite a promising career,” he hissed.

He saw one of the gunmen brake cover and cut him down.

“That evens the odds at least.”

As more sirens arrived, he watched what his opponents were up too. He was startled when the van’s engine fired up.

“No you don’t!”

He leapt into full sight and fired four shots at the retreating fuel tank. Before the backup had screeched to a stop, the TV detector van had gone up in orange and yellow flames.

“You alright sir?” Percy asked, dashing toward him.

DI Nixon put his weapon away and smiled broadly.

“I am now sergeant. Sadly, we lost three good men.”

As Percy surveyed the carnage, the DI said quietly, “I had better inform the chief constable to cancel that visit eh? There could be yet another threat to the PM.”

“As you wish sir.”

Nixon turned and walked over to the waiting vehicles. As an afterthought, he called an officer across, before heading back to the safety of the station.

Back at the flat, Charly and Grant had continued discussing the nightmare, and the message that triggered it. When the door was knocked, Charly quickly answered.

He was surprised to see a police officer waiting for him.

“Can we help?”

The police officer grinned.

“I have a message from DI Nixon sir.”

“Let’s have it then.”

“Death hath no dominion. What does it mean sir?”

Charly smiled to himself.

“Never you mind. Just thank the DI for me.”

“I’ll certainly do that sir.”

Wandering into the lounge, Grant stared at him.

“What was that all about?”

Charly sat upon the sofa and said softly, “A point of philosophy Grant. A point of philosophy.”

He stared across toward the window as Christine leapt onto his lap.
As it purred loudly, he stroked the jet-black fur.

“At least you love me darling.”

The cat meowed back, fully understanding the words.

“Sometimes you know,” Grant said. “I truly think cat’s are more intelligent than us.”

Charly grinned.

“Compared to them, we are but mice my friend. Get the Grouse out mate. We all could do with a wind down.”

This story questions the nature of our reality..Should trigger a philosophical debate...Eagle eyed readers will easily spot biographic info in these dramas..Here is a clue..Christine now ex-wife..Cat description correct..Her name is viola...Flat description correct..Can you spot the rest..Not all of these dramas are fiction...

After long nights of worry, tracked the prob to one of my microsoft programmes...Tried to delete but computer refused...Even reboot failed...!

Perhaps I should bribe it with Whisky?

author's note...This is follow up to Killer in the night...Happy reading...

Author's note...This is follow up to The Bathtub...

Killer in the night/welcome to my nightmare are out now...Death has no dominion...posting Thursday...

Ep 1

DI Nixon and his sidekick sergeant Percy were extremely worried men.
As they watched, the crowds gathering in Market Street the DI said quietly, “I hope the weather holds off. Damn rain would ruin everything.”

His sergeant nodded.

“Why the PM wants to come here baffles me sir.”

“You know what politicians are like Percy. They love to be in the spotlight.”

The DI thought for a moment.

“All the working girls have been removed?”

“Yes sir. They left easily enough. We also have sharp shooters on the roof. There is one fly in the ointment though.”

“Oh yes?”

Percy pointed across the street.

“Grant and Charly are here sir.”

“I suspect they just want to enjoy the event Percy. Keep an eye on them though.”

Within the crowds, Grant stuck out like a sore thumb. He was middle-aged and sported a long grey beard. His multi coloured poncho was his familiar trademark.

Charly stood to his right, as dark clouds rolled overhead.

“How long do you think she will be?” Grant asked.

“I suspect the glass blowers are keeping her fully occupied my boy.”

The distant wail of police sirens rent the air, indicating that Britain’s second female PM was en-route at last. As Charly watched, two police motorcyclists appeared, followed soon after by a gleaming black Mercedes.

“About ruddy time,” Grant grumbled.

The large crowd cheered, and flags were waived, as the PM’s driver brought the official vehicle to a halt. As she stepped onto the pavement, flash bulbs cracked as the photographers jostled to get a better shot. The town’s mayor waited patiently as the PM turned and smiled for the camera.

The sudden clatter of hooves took everyone by surprise. As eyes turned, a gleaming white charger thundered toward the startled politician. Upon that steed, and enclosed in black armour rode the Knight of old. As the security boys reached for their handguns, the knight raised the sword and expertly beheaded the PM with ease.
Before anyone could react, the terrible apparition faded from view.
Women fainted as the crowd surged against the barriers. The bloody head, with a surprised look upon its face, rolled into the gutter as DI Nixon and Percy grabbed the horrified mayor and led him rapidly into the waiting vehicle.

Charly and Grant stood aghast at the killing. Like everyone else that day, this was the last thing they had expected.

The crowds smashed the barrier down, trampling several children underfoot. The crowd ran for their lives as the crime scene was rapidly sealed off.

Only Charly and Grant stood their ground. When the DI returned, eyes gazing at the loose head, he spotted them at once.

“Grab those two now!”

Armed police ran forward and pulled the startled onlookers across the road, as the grisly head was carefully removed.

“We saw what you saw Nixon,” Charly said. “No need to grab us.”

“What about our civil rights?” Grant protested.

“Suspended,” the DI said. “I should have known that something crazy would happen by your very presence.”

“You are becoming paranoid,” Charly said. “I suppose you think we arranged all that.”

“Why else be here?” Nixon replied. “You are going into protective custody. Don’t bother asking for a phone call either. You ruddy well won’t get it!”

Protesting their innocence, the suspects were hauled into a waiting panda car and driven off at high speed toward the station. A moment later, an ambulance arrived, and Percy watched as the body was carried inside.

“What a bloody mess!” the DI yelled.

“You are not to blame sir. No one could have foreseen this.”

“I was in charge of security you clot. Who else will take the rap?”
Only a week before, Triad had warned him of certain consequences if anything went wrong.

“What are we going to do to Grant and Charly?” Percy asked.
Nixon’s face went bright red.

“Wring the ruddy truth out of them. Mark my words sergeant. Those two are up to their necks in this affair.”
 
Ep 2

Instead of being taken to the interview room, the suspects were marched straight to the cells and thrown inside. As Grant gave the door a hefty kick, Charly said, “There is no need for that mate.”

Grant swung around.

“That oaf should be struck off. If he has his way, we’ll be shot trying to escape.”

“They would not dare.”

“Oh yeah? Killing the PM is still a capital offence.”

Charly looked worried now. As Grant paced the squalid little cell, he said quietly, “I hope Christine is alright.”

“You are worried about the cat at a time like this?”

“I always worry about her. As for Nixon, well...He knows that we are innocent.”

Grant slammed the cell door with his fist.

“Tell that to the cleaner then.”

Charly sat upon the floor and started to think.

“Fancy a ghost doing a thing like that.”

As Grant joined him, he said, “You seriously expect me to believe that? Ghosts don’t kill.”

“I’m not so sure mate. That knight was certainly out of place you know. Appears from nowhere. Vanishes into nowhere. If you have a better explanation, let me hear it.”

“As a matter of fact I don’t. Hold up, someone is coming.”

They stood quickly as the door was unlocked. Percy and Nixon entered the cell looking quite grim.

“I want a full confession within the hour.”

“You must be out of your mind,” Grant said.

“A plea of insanity will not work now mate,” Percy warned.

“How could we have arranged that?” Charly asked.

“Oh I don’t know,” the DI said. “Perhaps you had help from your friends at military intelligence.”

Charly laughed.

“You are mad.”

“Just tell us how it was done. That’s all we want,” the DI continued.

“Charly thinks a ghost did it.”

The officers stared at Grant in mute surprise.

“That is the best explanation for what we witnessed,” Charly added.

“A ghost of a medieval knight returns to murder the PM?” Nixon asked. “That will never stand up in court.”

Grant stepped forward.

“The way that I see it. We will both be dead by then.”

The DI shook his head.

“Is that really the best you can come up with?”

“What’s your theory?” Charly asked.

“At the moment I don’t have one. Perhaps searching your flat will solve that little difficulty.”

Charly grimaced and reached inside his trench coat. He found the phone card and handed it over.

“Phone that number.”

The DI gazed at the card and then tore it up.

“If you think Triad can help you get out of this, I’m extremely sorry to disappoint.”

The officers left the cell, and the door was slammed shut.

“Were you serious about us being dead by then?”

“Deadly serious,” Grant replied. “He intends to dispose of us both now.”

DI Nixon and Sergeant Percy entered the flat slowly. Two armed officers had smashed the door open, causing the petrified cat to flee behind the lounge sofa.

“What are we looking for sir?” an officer asked.

“Any device that could create that apparition. Any files that show a design for such a machine.”

As the search got underway, Christine trembled, wondering where her loving daddy had got to.

Elsewhere that grim morning, events were turning truly hellish.

Ep 3

The modern baths were located on Tressle Street. A modern complex by any standard, it had recently been completed to commemorate the diamond jubilee of Queen Elizabeth the Second.

Zack was a plucky twelve year old kid who had thwarted a bank robbery the year before. For such an act, he had been awarded a bravery medal, and free use of the town’s pool. As he looked across the packed water, he grumbled.

“How can I swim with this lot?”

Mothers swam with children as the lifeguards watched for signs of distress or trouble. Zack wandered up to a familiar face.

“Pretty busy today Paul.”

The lifeguard looked down.

“Seems like it Zack. No space for your lengths today.”

“Perhaps I should dive bomb them?”

“Don’t you dare,” Paul replied. “That is banned. As well you know.”

Zack sat at the edge, his feet dangling into the lukewarm water.

“Can’t you raise the temperature?”

Paul chuckled.

“Afraid of the cold are we? Go on boy, get under.”

Zack slipped into the pool, feet treading the disturbed water. A young lad next to him, splashed water into his youthful face.

“Do you mind mate?”

“Sorry.”

Zack let go of the side and swam a short distance before stopping again. Here in the deep end, the floor was seven feet down. Zack was well out of his depth.

A family of four were playing around, the two kids wearing the orange armbands that kept them afloat. Usually this was banned in the deep end, but today the rule had been relaxed.

Zack managed to swim toward them, as the grotesque mother lifted her blubber-filled arm to smack her son. A dark sinister shape, unseen by everyone, swam from the pool floor and headed straight for her.
Zack was treading water now, unsure of how to get past when the woman let out a hellish scream. She suddenly went under as the water turned a bloody red.

“Crikey!” Zack yelled as her head bobbed up again.

“Help me!!!” she screamed.

Zack turned and made for the edge as teeth lined jaws surfaced. The mother’s leg was within its mouth as Zack glanced back. To his utter horror, the prehistoric shape of the alligator twisted in a death roll, as the mother was pulled under once more.

Pandemonium erupted at once. The lifeguards blew whistles to clear the pool as the helpless victim was torn to shreds. Zack made for the side, hauling himself out as the crowd followed suit.

When the pool was at last cleared, only blood remained. The gator had vanished from sight.

Ep 4

“We have searched the entire flat sir,” the officer reported. “Nothing unusual has been found.”

DI Nixon was livid.

“There must be something. My gut is telling me that those two are behind this.”

“We could search again,” Percy suggested.

“Do that. Take more care eh?”

Nixon heard his radio activate and answered it briskly.

“What do you want?”

The female dispatcher’s voice was trembling.

“A swimmer was killed by an alligator in the Jubilee pool sir.”

“What do you mean by gator? Don’t talk nonsense.”

“That’s the report sir. You had better get over there.”

Nixon deactivated it and took Percy by the arm.

“Keep them at it. I have to check out some damn silly report from the pool.”

When he arrived, only the lifeguards remained. Police divers had recovered the torn remains of the unhappy victim. Now covered with a sheet, the DI threw it back.

“What a ruddy mess.”

“Witnesses saw a gator tear her to shreds,” an officer told him.

“How is that possible? Where is it?”

The officer shook his head.

Nixon walked to the nearest lifeguard, who happened to be Paul.

“What did you see?”

“One moment, everything was normal. Then this woman started hollering. I blew my whistle and shouted for everyone to get out.”

“Then what happened?”

Paul was now visibly shaking.

“I saw this dark animal, a gator, break surface. It rolled and tore her leg right off.”

“How do you know what a gator looks like?”

Paul closed his eyes.

“I have seen enough of them on wildlife programmes.”

Nixon stepped away as the doctor approached.

“Can we talk sir?”

In a small corner, the medic gave his grim conclusion.

“No person did that to her. The bite radius, the savage attack, and the witnesses all point to one predator.”

“A gator?”

“Definitely. Though where it came from and how it escaped is another matter.”

“How long would you say it was?”

“Oh about twelve feet.”

Nixon stroked his hair in confusion.

“Such a thing is just not possible.”

“Tell that to the victim sir. She certainly did not do this to herself.”

As the medic wandered off, Nixon realised that his case against
Charly and Grant had completely collapsed. Something far more sinister was ongoing. He remembered tearing up the white card and quickly regretted it. He activated his radio and called the search off.
 
Ep 5

DI Nixon led the suspects from the cell himself. Once outside, the ashen faced officer said, “I have ordered repairmen to refit your door by the way. We will pay the bill.”

“I just hope Christine is okay.”

“Christine?” the DI asked.

“My cat.”

“We should sue the *** of them,” Grant suggested.

The DI gave him a withering look.

“What brought about the change in heart Nixon?”

“We had a gator attack at the pool.”

“Did you catch the animal?”

The DI shook his head.

“It vanished, just like the knight.”

“We need Triad,” Charly suggested.

“I don’t know how to contact her. Sorry about the card.”

“No worries. You know sir; this thing is bigger than the both of us.”

As they wandered off, Charly swung round.

“I promise you this. One day we will be forced to work together.”
As the DI entered the station, Grant asked, “What now?”

“Back to the flat to see the repair job and check on Christine. After that a coffee break.”

“I meant the strange events.”

Charly glanced at him.

“Someone is obviously warping reality. How we catch him is a bit of a problem.”

Charly found the new door fitted and once inside, the cat appeared from its hiding place.

“Hello darling. Sorry for being late. We were eh, out of touch. Fancy a coffee Grant?”

“I could kill for one thanks.”

Once the beverage had been drunk, the two friends started working on the perplexing mystery.

“How does one go about warping reality?”

Charly smiled.

“For a start it would need some serious tech. I don’t know anyone who could build such a machine.”

“Einstein did suggest that space and time can be warped by gravity,” Grant pointed out.

“I know that. Perhaps we are dealing with matter transmission?”

“If such a thing exists,” Grant added. “Only the military would own it.”

“I agree with you there. Point is though, why test it here?”

“After what has happened recently, this town would be perfect.”

As the two friends continued the discussion, the Russian space agency had problems of their own...
 
Ep 6

Nikov 2 was the latest in spy technology. Designed for the Russian military, it had been safely in orbit for more than a year. Only weeks before, a photo taken by the satellite had caused a global sensation. For the Whitehouse it was highly embarrassing.

The photo had clearly showed the president quietly sunbathing in the nude. Of course, denials were quickly issued. Until a second photo was published. A photo of his face!

In the control room, the project head was reviewing the latest photos when a technician shouted over.

“We seem to have a problem sir.”

Dimitri joined him at once.

“A thruster has activated for no reason. Our child is in de-orbit.”

“That is not possible,” Dimitri protested. “Countermand it.”

“I tried sir. Nikov 2 is not responding.”

As they watched the screen, the vector clearly showed an impact location. Somewhere in England.

“We have to warn the president now,” the technician said.

Dimitry knew why of course. This satellite was nuclear powered. He ran to the phone and snatched it up.

“Get me President Virkov right now!”

The technician watched as the satellite spiralled toward certain destruction.

Within the flat,the discussion was about to reach its logical climax.

“Look Grant, reality is a bit like snooker. We usually pot the red, but once in a while we pot the cue ball.”

“I follow that.”

“Since this morning we have been potting the cue ball.”

“So how do we reset the game?” Grant asked.

Charly was about to reply when the very air began to vibrate.

“Is that a quake?” Grant asked.

“I doubt it. Hear that?”

Christine pricked her fluffy ears and darted for the safety of the cat box as a roar filled the room. Charly dashed to the window and gazed out.

“It’s a ruddy fireball!”

As Grant joined him, the satellite smashed through the thin cloud layer and annihilated the monastery. As the mushroom cloud rose skyward, the two friends reeled back in shock.

“This is not happening!” Charly shouted. “Reality cannot be this skewed!”

He whirled around and saw his friend stagger.

“What’s up with you?”

“I really don’t feel well mate. I seem to be warming up.”

As Charly watched, his friend’s face started to become distorted. The skin seemed to liquefy and run down his trembling cheeks. A pool of goo began to form around him as his body disintegrated. Now left alone, Charly felt the onset of terror.

“I must stay sane!” he yelled. “Grant’s mini is still outside.
Perhaps I can get away!”

He picked up the keys from the coffee table and dashed for the front door. Once outside the block, he dashed into the open road. The sound of screeching brakes pierced his eardrums and he whirled around.

A low dark hearse was bearing down at high speed. Charly threw up his arms helplessly as it struck. He was tossed into the air and onto the cold concrete as the vehicle sped off into the distance. Residents dashed out and a kind old man felt the victim’s wrist.

“I’m afraid he is dead.”

It is a matter of fact, that hearing is the last sense to depart as the human body reaches the gateway to death. For Charly, it was no different.

Within that terrible, inky darkness, an alarm clock shrilled its warning...

Drama no 6, shall follow....

Ep 1

As Charly slept with Christine curled upon his lap, elsewhere, darker events were unfolding.

Tim Crisp had ran the wine store for three years now, and hated every minute of it. A tall but overweight individual, his doctor had warned that unless he lost weight and quickly, he could expect the crunching pain of a lethal heart attack.

This had not really bothered him of course. Even as he closed up this night, he chuckled about the irony of the situation.

“Well,” he muttered. “At least it would be restful.”

He scurried toward the rear car park, spotting his dilapidated van easily. The figure standing near the door was unfamiliar though.
A tall, slim woman, dressed in short skirt and see through top, turned and smiled.

“Hi mister. I really need a ride.”

Tim reached the pleasant woman and sighed.

“Sorry to disappoint my dear. I’m on my way home you know.”

The woman raised her eyebrows and slim fingers started raising the skirt toward those cream thighs.

“I can make it worth your while.”

Tim had never had such a blatant offer before and placed the key in the driver’s door.

“Hop in then my dear. Where to?”

As the woman climbed in, she whispered, “Foxly Wood.”

The dark trees grew undisturbed as the van drew up slowly. Tim could feel his heart thumping as he brought them to a halt.

“Here we are then mam. Strange place for a drop off though.”

The woman did not reply. She climbed over and sat upon his firm lap. Slender fingers tore at his zip, digging inside for his member.
Tim gasped as she impaled him, warm lips dragging across his sensitive throat. Her lips closed upon his and pain ripped through his body.

“This is what you deserve pig.”

She clamped her firm palm upon his screaming mouth as the skin peeled back rapidly. His eyes expanded before bursting from their sockets in a shower of white jelly.

She did not react to this horror. She was still impaled, even as the grinning skull fell forward and rested upon her cold shoulder. She climbed out slowly, chuckling to herself.

As owls hooted their protest, she wandered off into the darkness.
 
Ep 2

By the time that Percy and his DI arrived, the forensic team were crawling all over the vehicle. Each man dressed in the paper white suit.

“What have you got for us doc?”

“He was middle-aged for a start. He’s in quite a mess though. The acid stripped his skull and upper torso back to the bone.”

“He drank it?” Percy asked.

“That was my first thought,” the doc replied. “Problem is though, the forensic boys found no container.”

“What kind of acid are we talking about?” the DI asked.

“Sulphuric. Damn dangerous stuff. There is something else too.”

“Which is?” Percy asked.

“He had sex just before death intervened.”

As the doctor left the scene, the CSI officer walked over.

“We found extra prints sir. Definitely female.”

“I want DNA as well,” the DI said. “If he had sex, there should be traces from the female.”

“We have swabbed for that sir. The results should be on your desk by midnight.”

The DI looked inside the van where the corpse now sat.

“Ever see this before?”

Percy shook his head.

“Neither have I,” the DI said. “We’ll collect the prints and run them through the computer. We may get lucky.”

Back at the station, the prints turned up a negative response.

“I just hope that the swab gives us a better result Percy.”

“You think the woman did it?”

“She was certainly there. That makes her our prime suspect.”

The boring hours ticked away slowly. A search of the wine store turned up nothing of course. Elsewhere that day, a familiar face turned up at the flat.

“Hello again Charly.”

He stared at his middle-aged visitor who sported a long grey beard.

“Do you ever change that multi-coloured poncho Grant?”

“No point. I’m stuck in the good old days. May I come in?”

Charly stepped aside as his new friend made his merry way to the lounge.

“Mind Christine,” Charly said as the cat bounded over.

“What plans have you today?” Grant asked.

“I thought sitting at home would be nice.”

Grant reached under his poncho and pulled out the evening paper.

“This might fire you up.”

Charly took it as they sat upon the sofa. Christine leapt on the headrest and watched intently.

As Charly read the report, he screwed up his eyes.

“Stripped to the bone?”

“That’s what it says. Cops suspect acid did it.”

Charly read down.

“Says here they are looking for a woman.”

“That is not unusual. It was the nature of the killing that took my attention.”

Charly finished reading.

“You have a theory?”

Grant nodded.

“He certainly did not drink that acid willingly. I knew the bloke you see. He was decent and single. As a matter of fact, I was his best customer.”

“What do you think happened?”

“He must have picked up a prostitute. That would explain his van turning up at Foxly Wood.”

“You had better tell the cops.”

“I have just come from there. They took a statement. That CID bloke is in charge.”

“The one I spoke too?”

“Same damn idiot,” Grant said.

Charly thought deeply.

“If you are right, then she will strike again.”

“That is my conclusion,” Grant said. “Fancy a ride?”

“You have a car? I thought you were a cycle person.”

Grant grinned.

“Only during the summer my friend. My mini is outside.”
Charly grabbed his trench coat and said goodbye to his loving pet.

As they left, she meowed bitterly.

The mini was of the old design and badly in need of repair. As the motor started, Charly said, “I hope you know that cruising is illegal.”

“Course I know,” Grant said. “That is half the fun mate.”

The vehicle set off for the town centre as darkness finally fell.
 
Ep 3

At Market Street, the mini stopped. Grant wound the window down and shouted toward the two scantily dressed women.

“Any new girls working the area?”

A dark haired female who was obviously over sixty came forward.

“Hello Grant. Nice to see you again.”

Charly was rather astonished.

“Any new girls Stella?”

“Just the usual. Why ask?”

“The cop’s suspect that one of you lot did that chap last night. Keep a lookout eh?”

“We usually do, but ta for the tip.”

Grant rolled the window down and glanced at his friend.

“I’ve only ever spoken to her.”

“Hey, it’s your life mate. Where too now?”

“How about club land? It’s not that far.”

As they set off, a seventeen-year-old clubber was making her way gently home. Despite it only being eight o’clock, she was fairly on the inebriated side.

As she turned into the alleyway, a tall slim woman stepped from the darkness.

“Have you a light love?”

Tanya stopped.

“I don’t smoke I’m afraid.”

“Where you been then?”

“Cooper’s”

“That gay place?” the woman asked.

“What of it?” Tanya demanded.

“No worries girl, I’m as bent as they come.”

Tanya stared at the suggestive clothing and did not like what she saw.

“I need to get home now.”

The woman reached out and gripped her right hand.

“Just have a feel darling.”

“I eh, don’t want to ta.”

The woman’s grip was like iron, and the young girl could not stop her hand being thrust inside the flimsy top. The warm skin and firm nipple brushed across her palm.

“Can I go home now?”

“Only after a peck my dear.”

Tanya closed her eyes and pressed her lips against the stranger. As contact was made, a searing pain ripped through her. A hand clamped to her mouth as the head smoked profusely. As the legs collapsed, the stranger went down with it until all was silent once more.

“You should have taken more care,” the stranger whispered before wandering into the night.

The mini had now stopped in Perky Road where the clubs were located.

“Are we going in?” Charly asked.

“No point in doing that mate,” Grant replied. “We will just sit tight for a bit.”

The hours passed slowly and the young clubbers took no notice of the strange old car. Just after midnight though, a shrill scream rent the night air.

“That came from near here,” Charly said.

“I know it did. Hang on.”

Grant spun the mini around and throttled it into the main street. He spotted an hysterical woman gripping the wall tightly. The car screeched to a halt and the two friends leapt out.

“What’s the matter?” Grant asked.

The woman simply pointed down the dark alley.

“You keep her there,” Charly said. “I’ll take a look.”

He crept into the alley and nearly tripped over the cold corpse. He stared down at the grinning skull and staggered back.

“There is another one here,” he shouted back. “You had better phone the damn cops.”

The DI was not very happy when he arrived in the town centre. For a start, the DNA had turned up nothing in the way of a suspect, and the last thing he expected was to see Charly and Grant.

“Strange place to meet again,” he said. “Check the victim Percy.”

As the officer did so, the tired DI turned toward the hysterical woman.

“You found the victim?”

She nodded.

“She looks fairly young,” Percy shouted.

“What are you two doing here?”

“We just happened to be in the area,” Charly retorted.

“That’s a likely story. I’ll need to question you both tomorrow.”

“We are not to blame sir,” Grant insisted.

As Percy returned, the DI said, “Like the other?”

“Almost identical.”

“I could arrest you both on the spot,” the DI said. “However, reporting to the station at nine will be enough for now.”

“We can go then?” Charly asked.

“After one final question. Did you recognise her Grant?”

Grant glanced at Charly.

“I never saw the body.”

“Then have a look man,” the DI suggested.

Grant wandered into the alleyway and returned moments later.

“Thankfully she’s not one of the girls.”

“Okay,” the DI said. “Of you go, and remember nine.”

As the forensic team arrived with the doctor, the DI told his sergeant, “Those two know more than they are letting on.”
 
Ep 4

As nine came the following morning, Charly and Grant climbed the steps and entered the station. As they sat waiting, Charly said, “Just stay calm remember. Those idiots are barking up the wrong tree.”

An officer wandered in from the rear.

“We are ready for you now. If you could both follow me.”

Within the bleak interview room, Percy and the DI sat impassively as the suspects entered. As they sat down, the interview began.

“I don’t like civilians who interfere with official business,” the
DI said firmly. “You first turn up during the burnt body's case, now this one. So, I have been doing some digging.”

“What did you find?” Grant asked.

“You Grant have been involved in petty dope. Nothing too serious I might add. As for you Charly, I don’t like the file ending with classified. Seems military intelligence blocked the search.”

“I really don’t know why,” Charly replied calmly.

“Are you some kind of agent?”

Charly shook his head.

“Never mind then,” the DI continued. “Grant here gave us a statement concerning Mr Crisp which was a nice touch. However, we have a problem. You were both seen sitting inside a mini at Perky Road, just about when the murder took place.”

“We did not commit it,” Grant protested. “That woman suffered an acid attack, just like the last victim.”

“How do you know that?” Percy asked.

“I read the paper dumb ***.”

As Percy moved forward, the DI waived him away.

“You may not be our killers, but you do have an idea of what is really going on. I’d like to hear it.”

Charly cleared his throat.

“You asked for it.”

As the DI listened, the theory was put before him.

“Whoever is behind this operates as a sex worker. She also operates at night. She kills without thought or mercy and is so inconspicuous, that the victims are taken in. Grant spoke to one of the girls to warn them of the danger. Yes, we were in club land but the hunch did not pay off.”

“Police work is harder than you think sir,” Percy reminded him. “Amateur sleuthing is not appreciated.”

“Would you mind if we checked out the mini?” the DI asked.

“Go ahead,” Grant replied. “I would like it washed too.”

Percy smiled at the joke.

“I think that will be done,” the DI said. “Next time that you have a hunch, try and let me know.”

“Can we go now?” Charly asked.

“I don’t see why not.”

As they reached the door however, the DI’s voice swirled up.

“After the blast at the monastery, those nuns saw two blokes running off. They even gave a description. I cannot prove it was you two, but I’ll be watching.”

Charly whirled around.

“If I were you detective inspector, I’d spend more time looking for the killer!”

With that, he stormed out. Leaving Grant to follow. Outside the station, Grant caught up with him.

“What was that about military intelligence?”

“You would never believe me Grant. I suggest returning to my flat for a cool down.”

“Fancy some dope?”

Charly gave him a withering look.

“My brain is far too precious for that. Come on, before that DI changes his mind.”

Back at the flat that grim morning, Charly opened the Grouse and poured out two glasses.

“Get this down you mate. We both need a calm down.”

As they slugged it back, Christine watched from the rear armchair.

“How long you had her?”

“Since she was a kitten,” Charly said. “Bites and scratches but she really does love me.”

“No woman then?”

Charly’s face fell.

“Been married twice actually. Both committed adultery. Morals of a pig you know.”

“I think pigs would regard that as a slur,” Grant suggested.

Charly smiled.

“No snooping tonight eh? Let the cops work for a change.”

“Until another body turns up,” Grant said.

Charly was about to reply when the door rapped.

“Stay here mate. I’ll see who it is.”

“If it’s the DI,” Grant said. “Tell him to take a hike.”

As Grant laughed, his host pulled the door open.
He was confronted by a tall, slim woman, wearing a full dark suit.
At her side stood a short bloke in similar attire.

“Can I help you?”

The woman smiled.

“I’m Triad. This is Doctor Peters.”

Charly scowled back.

“You lot waste no time in replacing people do you?”

“It’s what we do Charly.”

As they entered the lounge, Christine fled to the rear of the sofa.

“Let me introduce military intelligence. I have a feeling that we are about to be conscripted.”

“That would take the emergency powers act 1939,” Grant said.

“We are acting under those powers sir,” Triad informed him.

As they sat down, the woman said politely, “We discovered the local police had been probing your past. Then we discovered why.”

“You know about the killings then?” Grant asked.

“We certainly do,” the doctor replied.

“How can we help?” Charly asked.

“The nature of the deaths suggest an alien involvement. Despite the tragedy of the admiral, we feel that you can help.”

Charly thought quickly.

“What you will need is a sample of that acid.”

“Our men are retrieving that now sir,” the doctor said. “Along with the DNA and the files.”

“We like to upset the Bobbies,” Triad added.

“You plan to hush this up?” Grant asked.

“We have no option,” the woman replied.

“I don’t suppose Jerrix has contacted you?” Charly asked hopefully.

“Not at present. Anyway, she died some time ago.”

Charly now repeated his theory as Triad listened intently. When he had finished she stroked her firm jaw.

“When I get the results of the search, I’ll make contact. For now though, stay put. If the DI calls again, give him this number.”

She handed over a small white card, which he took gratefully.
Triad looked at the whisky bottle.

“Enjoy yourselves. We shall be in touch.”

After they had left, Charly poured out two more doses.

“I hope you realise, this could mean our life’s?”

“Who cares,” Grant said. “I have always fancied going out with a bang.”
 
Ep 5

The sun had gone down now and Casy wandered back towards her North Street flat after a hard day at the office. Elegant to look at, with fluffy ginger hair, her friends wondered why she had never married.
She smiled at that thought as she entered the apartment block. As she reached the third floor, a tall slim woman greeted her.

“I seem to have locked myself out. Mind if I use your phone love?”

Cassy smiled at the daring attire.

“I don’t mind in the slightest. Perhaps we could chat and things...”

The stranger smiled back as they entered the short hall.

“Phone’s in the lounge. I’ll just take a shower.”

As the stranger walked off, Cassy entered the shower room and quickly stripped off the formal clothing. She adjusted the dial and stepped inside the warm flow.

“I must not take too long. My catch may fly the nest.”

As she rapidly soaped herself, the shower room door opened and the stranger padded inside.

“I’ve made the call thanks. How much?”

Cassy took a deep breath and almost rushed from the shower. Now standing naked, she stammered, “No charge. Look, stay a bit longer eh? I shan’t be too long.”

The stranger glanced at the wet body and slowly advanced. As Cassy closed her eyes, firm fingers stroked the curvy thighs.

“Enjoying it?” the stranger asked.

“Oh yes.”

“Then perhaps you will enjoy this too.”

Warm lips enclosed Cassy’s own, as firm arms embraced her. A violent pain shot through the unlucky woman, as the flesh was stripped from her skull and upper torso. As the cadaver collapsed, the woman let it drop.

“Just too easy.”

She left quietly, as elsewhere; military intelligence was dealing with the confiscated items.

“According to this,” Doctor Peters said. “The DNA sample is perfectly human. As are the fingerprints.”

“How can that be?” Triad asked. “The victims suffered horrendous damage.”

The doctor continued.

“The acid is definitely sulphuric. No alien isotopes at all.”

“That has torn it,” Triad hissed. “We are not allowed to interfere with those crimes.”

“There may be an explanation for all this,” the doctor said.

“Get on with it then.”

“Duplication. The alien could be using a mock up.”

“That would certainly explain the results,” Triad said. “Any sign of alien tissue in the victims?”

“None I’m afraid. We will of course examine the next victim.”

As the phone went off, she picked it up harshly.

“Yes DI? Thanks for the tip. We will be right on it.”

“Problem?” Peters asked

“Some woman has been found dead in her flat. Come on, we better take a look.”

By the time they arrived, the crime scene was swarming with CSI operatives.

“What have you got DI?” Triad asked.

“Same modus operandi. These killings are horrendous.”

As the doctor examined the corpse, Triad asked, “How long she been dead?”

“According to my doc about two hours. The housemaid found her.”

“It’s obvious that the acid entered via the mouth,” Peters pointed out. Never seen this level of damage before though.”

“Was she assaulted?” Triad asked.

Peters examined her lower region and shook his head.

“She was a virgin. Gay probably.”

“I suppose that you will want these samples as well,” the DI said.

“Of course. Until we are satisfied, that is. If it turns out to be a normal crime, we step away.”

“Who could call this normal,” Percy asked.

“That is not what I meant,” Triad said coldly.

As Peters stood, the CSI officer approached.

“We have fingerprints of two female’s sir. I’ll send them off to you tonight.”

Triad smiled.

“As a matter of fact, you will send those to me. Your DI knows where we are.”

They left the police to sort things out before speeding towards Charly’s flat.

“Why go there?” Peters asked. “He is as much in the dark as we are.”

“Have faith doctor. Charly may think of something we can’t.”

Charly was a little worse for wear when he answered the door.

“Join the party.”

“We have no time for that,” Triad snapped. “Another woman has been murdered.”

Charly staggered back as the officers walked inside.

“Whereabouts?” Charly asked entering the lounge.

“North Street,” Peters answered as they sat down.

“Have you come to any conclusions yet?” the woman asked.

“I still need one piece of information,” Charly replied.

“Which is?” Peters asked.

“How the hell can she carry all that acid about without spilling any?”

“I believe that it enters through the mouth,” Doctor Peters replied.

Charly thought for a moment.

“In that case, we need a moderator my boy. It could well kill the woman too.”

“I don’t quite follow,” Triad said.

“Charly thinks the acid is secreted from her lips,” Grant chipped in. “If that is correct, then the moderator should at least slow her down.”

“Would that work?” Triad asked.

“Only if her system is full of the stuff,” Peters replied. “We could try it I suppose.”

“Now we have to work out how to flush the ***** out,” Charly said.

“I have considered that,” Triad told him. “We get the women off the streets and make it public. Then we substitute one of ours.”

“Sounds a good plan to me,” Charly stammered. “How do you intend to deliver the moderator?”

Triad smiled.

“Would you believe dart guns?”

Charly glanced at Grant and fell about laughing.

Triad cut them short.

“You had better sober up Charly. You are about to cross dress.”

The drunken man looked at her in shock.

“You want me?”

“Who else? I think you will look quite suave in a dress.”

Charly staggered into the kitchen to make black coffee as the military waited.
 
Ep 6

It had just gone one in the morning. As dark clouds rolled overhead,
Charly walked Market Street.

The girls had been cleared by the constabulary, though the DI protested against the military intervention. In vain, as it turned out.

Charly felt extremely silly, dressed as he was in a short skirt and woolly top. Triad had felt obliged to add a long blonde wig and a bra so large, that it felt quite ridiculous.

Hidden away in the dark, military sharp shooters waited. Their darts filled with the moderator. These darts were designed to impart the fluid on impact.

Not too far away, Triad and Doctor Peters waited in the darkly coloured truck. The vehicle that doubled as a mobile lab and command post.

“Are you sure these darts will work?”

“Of course,” Peters replied. “The trick will be to hit the target and not the civilian. That would be rather tragic.”

“Especially for him,” Triad added.

Charly tried to keep himself calm by whistling, as he wandered back and forth along the cold concrete footpath.

Just before two, the clicking of high heels sounded and the ‘victim’ turned slowly.

“Who is it?” he called nervously.

“You got a light love?”

Charly saw the tall, slim figure walking towards him. Beneath the transparent top, the breasts wobbled in perfect harmony.

“I may have one,” Charly replied. “Just give us a second.”

The woman stopped suddenly.

“You’re a bloke,” she said carefully. “New to the game are we?”

Charly tried to smile.

“Any tips?”

The woman strolled on, stopping at his feet.

“The wig does not suit you.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

The woman smiled.

“No worries eh? Fancy a snog? It may help you to relax?”

Charly stepped back and suddenly shouted, “It’s her!”
Shots rang out and the startled woman staggered under the blows. As Charly watched, the woman began screaming.

“What the hell have you done to me?”

She suddenly convulsed, yellow pus oozing from her open lips. She crashed against the wall of a sweet shop, before crashing to the cold pavement.

The sharp shooters ran forward, the muzzles pointing at the twitching corpse. A few moments later, Triad and the doctor joined them.

“We got her then?” Triad asked.

The doctor knelt down and checked.

“She’s dead. God knows what that pus is though. We will have to cremate her.”

“That is no problem,” Triad said.

Turning to Charly, she put out her hand.

“Thanks for the help.”

Charly took it.

“I just hope this is the last time. Life seems so crazy now.”

Triad smiled.

“Believe me, I know how you feel.”

That morning, the DI had a visitor.

“As far as we are concerned the case is closed,” Triad said.

“What about the files, samples and so forth?”

“Burnt. Standard procedure.”

“There is still the business of the nuns you know,” the DI said.

Triad’s face hardened.

“Whatever Charly was up to, I’m sure it was for the common good.
Just drop it.”

The DI nodded rather reluctantly.

As the military officer was leaving, she stopped and turned.

“I understand that the PM is visiting the glass factory next week.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure that security is tight.”

“You had better,” Triad said. “Otherwise your next assignment will be delivering parking tickets.”

As Triad marched out, she grinned.

Charly woke at seven that morning. Grant had taken a taxi home an hour before. As he fed Christine, the cat meowed loudly.

“Don’t worry darling. Daddy is home.”

Outside his window, a thunderclap rent the air.

Ep 1

The ambulance and police had gone now. The woman, a next door neighbour had died within his warm arms as the cat looked on sadly.
About an hour later, Charly heard a knock upon her door.

“Stay here Queeny,” he said to the moggy before checking out the door.

When he opened it, he saw a middle-aged bloke with long grey beard and wearing a multi coloured poncho.

“Can I help you?”

The stranger turned and smiled.

“I was looking for Sadie actually.”

“You had better come inside. I am afraid there is bad news.”

The stranger sat in the lounge as Charly recounted the tragic events. When he reached the part about the missing bathtub the stranger looked at him strangely.

“It can’t be missing. We only used it last weekend.”

“That is what the CID officer told me. You see, I had assumed that she had fallen inside and scolded herself. What with those awful burns.”

“Someone must have stolen it.”

“I rather doubt that,” Charly replied. “People would have seen it.”

The stranger shook his head.

“She spent a grand on that. Chinese ceramic you see. Damn thing weighed a ton.”

“How old was it?”

The stranger thought.

“According to the antiques dealer around three-hundred.”

“Pretty old then.”

“Sadie loved old stuff,” the stranger whispered.

“I am curious though,” Charly admitted.

“About the missing part. So am I. You don’t suppose the pigs nicked it?”

Charly shook his head.

“They are not allowed to mate. How do you fancy talking to that dealer?”

“What good would that do?”

“He may be able to tell us more about her purchase. We have to start somewhere. Something feels wrong about this.”

“Turning detective are we?” the stranger asked.

Charly smiled.

“There is more to that than you can possibly realise. Fancy staying the night?”

The stranger nodded and put out his hand.

“I’m Grant by the way.”

Charly introduced himself. A little late perhaps.

After a dismal breakfast, the new friends made their way to ‘Times of Old’ and found the grey haired proprieter sweeping up.

“Had an accident?” Grant asked.

“Just getting rid of the cobwebs sir. Wait a moment, I know you.”

“Ceramic bathtub?” Grant suggested.

“Yes indeed.”

“Can you give us some background info?” Charly asked.

“What do you want to know?”

“Where it was made would be nice.”

The proprieter smiled.

“Northern China. Legend says a mystic conjured it.”

Charly glanced at Grant.

“A mystic?”

“So the story goes. You see, this mystic was rather evil and designed the tub to destroy good. All rubbish of course.”

“Quite right too,” Grant said quickly.

“How can a tub destroy good?” Charly asked.

The proprietor walked to the heavy wooden counter and said, “By boiling them of course.”

Outside the shop, both men were deeply worried.

“There can’t be anything to that.”

“I saw the burns Grant. Problem is how do we locate the ruddy thing?”

“You think it moved by itself?”

“How else? Whoever has it now is in grave danger.”

“We better not go to the cops about this,” Grant said. “We would be locked away.”

“I agree with you. What do you reckon?”

Grant smiled and pointed to the newsagent window.

“How about putting up an advert?”

Ep 2

As the sun went down that night, a hard working mother of two was preparing the ceramic bathtub for use. As it filled with the warm water, she poured in her favourite scent. Stripping slowly, she dipped her foot in and realised it was just right.
She slid down, her smooth body being covered in the frothy bubbles. She started washing slowly, as the temperature started to rise. As it did so, the room filled with steam.

After a few minutes, she realised that it was rather too hot for her taste and turned the cold water tap. The water suddenly bubbled around her, skin slewing off in the heat, hellish screams drifting through the still air.

The DI gazed at the severely burnt body that was still and silent upon the bathroom floor. The doctor stood slowly.

“That’s the second this week Percy. No water, no bath even.”

“It certainly is peculiar sir.”

“She died from first degree burns,” the doctor said. “Though how? I have no idea.”

As he left the scene, the DI scratched his head.

“The front door is bolted, no sign of forced entry, and she burns to death.”

Percy looked at his superior.

“Black magic do you think?”

The DI stared in disbelief.

“I am really beginning to wonder. None of this makes any sense.”

“What do we tell the press?” Percy asked.

The DI shrugged his shoulders.

“How about cause unknown. That should keep them off our backs for a while.”

That evening, Grant returned with the paper.

“You had better read the headline.”

Charly did so and winced.

“Death undetermined. Sounds like another victim.”

“It happened three miles from here,” Grant said. “Surely she would have noticed the new bath.”

“Perhaps it can disguise itself. Who knows.”

“So what the hell do we do now?”

“Any response from your advert?”

Grant shook his head.

“Not a whimper. We daren’t go to the cops.”

“I think we should you know,” Charly said. “They may take us seriously.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Two missing bath’s? Come on. CID are not that daft. They know that something crazy is going on.”

The DI stared across the simple table of the interview room, staring as Charly outlined what he knew. After a pause he folded his arms and said, “Quite outlandish sir. Who was the evil magician? Merlin?”

“He was Welsh, not Chinese. Explain the missing bath’s then.”

Percy strode over.

“Who says they are missing?”

“The officers who collected the body from my hall of course.”

“They were only joking,” the DI said.

“At a crime scene?”

“It’s how we cope mate,” Percy said.

“I don’t believe a word of it,” Charly replied. “You lot know I’m right.”

“You say the antique dealer told you this?” Percy asked.

“He doesn’t believe the story either,” Charly admitted.

“Sounds like an intelligent man to me,” the DI said. “Look sir, nothing you have said convinces me.”

“Then how do you explain the two deaths? Accident?”
Percy glanced at his boss.

“At present,” he said. “That is precisely how we are handling it.”

The interview was over and Charly found himself outside the station staring at Grant.

“See they let you out then.”

“Don’t you start,” Charly said. “One thing though. They look damn worried.”

“So they should be mate. I got a call by the way.”

“Who from?”

“Some occultist who spotted the add. He wants to see us now.”

“So what are we waiting for. Let’s go see him.”

The taxi took them across town and stopped outside a fancy townhouse. Their host lived upon the ground floor and when he answered, Charly was quite shocked. The occultist wore a black cloak and sported a jet beard.

“Please enter of your own free will.”

The gents entered a quaint, if dark sitting room. A round table dominated and the chairs had carvings of angels upon them.

“Quite a set up,” Grant commented.

“I like it. Please have a seat.”

Once they were comfortable, Charly asked, “How can you help us exactly?”

“I specialise in tracking down evil. Your bathtub was indeed created by a magi.”

“You have done some digging?”

“Indeed I have. What your dealer forgot to say was that the magi was killed by his own creation.”

“Then what happened to it?” Grant asked.

The occultist raised his bushy eyebrows.

“Then it vanished from history.”

“Until now,” Charly said.

“Indeed.”

“You can track this thing?”

“All evil leaves a trace,” the occultist explained. My crystal pendulum should find it easily enough.”

Charly looked disappointed.

“I was hoping for something more.”

The occultist produced the pendulum from his cloak and they watched as he fired a question.

“Where doth evil lie?”

The small crystal moved upon the gold chain until it indicated an easterly position.

“It’s that way?” Grant asked.

“Towards the station to be precise. Now we take its advice.”

Standing outside now, the group finally reached the station and the strange man asked another question.

“Where doth evil wait?”

This time the device swung north and when they followed, Charly spotted a small stone cottage.

“We seem to have arrived,” the occultist whispered.

Ep 3

“Who’s going to knock?” Grant asked.

“That is not our main problem,” Charly replied. “How do we end this tub’s reign of terror?”

The occultist put away his trusty pendulum and drew out a silver crucifix.

“This should do the trick. I just toss it inside the damn thing and it should crack asunder.”

“That is enough?” Grant asked.

“I certainly hope so,” the occultist replied. “That is the only plan that I have. We cannot exactly ask its creator to undo it.”

Charly reached the yellowing front door and rapped twice. A moment later, an elderly lady wearing a shawl and holding a walking stick opened it.

“Can I help you,” her trembling voice asked.

The occultist smiled serenely.

“Have you recently gained a Chinese ceramic bathtub mam?”

The pensioner shook her head.

“I’m rather old fashioned,” she explained. “I still use my mom’s metal one.”

“Mind if we take a look?” Grant asked.

“Whatever for?”

“We believe there is a health risk mam. Bugs you know,” the occultist told her.

“Bugs? What type of bugs?”

Charly thought quickly.

“Ones that cause vomiting mam. A two minute test should be enough.”

“You don’t look like environmental officers,” the pensioner pointed out.

The occultist suddenly waived two fingers across her eyes and whispered, “We are old friends.”

The protests stopped and the woman stepped into the lounge. The occultist glanced at his shocked companions.

“Old trick you know. She was getting rather tedious.”

As they stepped inside, the lady closed the door.
The friends glanced at the neat little room and made their way towards the rear hall. At the far end they entered the water closet, and stared at the happy metallic tub.

“It’s not the one we are looking for,” Grant pointed out.

Charly would have none of it.

“It’s disguised. Now throw that ruddy cross.”

The occultist tossed the Christian symbol and waited for the tub to shatter. When naught happened, their faces fell.

“Your pendulum has not worked,” Grant said. “Now what the hell do we do?”

The occultist leaned forward and peered inside the tub. His shocked face told them everything.

“It melted it.”

Charly peeked and saw the cross had indeed been subjected to a terrible heat. The cross beam now lay shrivelled and curled.

“We should get it out of here,” the occultist suggested. “That woman is a sitting duck.”

As they started to lift the killer tub from the floor, the room filled with a strong smell of sulphur. From the lounge, the pensioner croaked, “Is everything alright?”

The friends coughed and spluttered as the temperature of the tub rose sharply.

“We got to let go,” Grant said. “My hands are burning.”

Moments later, the bath clattered to the floor as the heat became unbearable. They stepped back as the metal surface turned a dark red.

“Damn thing is alive,” Charly said.

“A quick withdrawel is required.” The occultist advised. “Everyone out now.”

As they reached the hall, real flames shot toward the ceiling, scorching it at once.

“Run for it!” Charly shouted dashing into the lounge.

He grabbed the startled woman and ushered her out into the street. Moments after his friends joined them, the lovely stone cottage went up in flames.

“Let’s hope that is the end of it,” Grant said.

“I’m afraid not,” the occultist said. “What we have seen is a demonstration of absolute evil.”

“In a nutshell?” Charly asked.

“It has escaped,” he whispered grimly.
 
Ep 4

As the cottage burned, they left the confused woman staring at the inferno. Making their way back to the rail station, Grant was incandescent with rage.

“So much for your plan. Where the hell has it gone too?”

“My plan was not at fault,” the occultist said. “We simply underestimated our enemy. As for its new location. Well, I thought that was obvious.”

“What does that mean?” Charly asked.

“Supreme evil tends to gravitate towards supreme good. In this town, that means one place.”

“The monastery,” Grant gasped.

“Exactly,” the occultist said. “It sits at the outskirts within the wood. Twenty nuns live there now.”

“Then that is where we are going,” Charly said. “I find the idea of frying nuns as offensive as you two.”

They reached the taxi rank and climbed inside the sleek, black vehicle.

“St Mary please,” Charly said.

The driver set his clock and headed towards the nunnery. Thankfully the traffic was light, and the vehicle reached the locked gates ten minutes later. After payment, the vehicle set off, leaving them staring at the new problem.

“I don’t fancy climbing the ten foot wall,” Grant said. “Can’t you just waive a wand and create an entrance?”

The occultist grinned and checked the locked gate. It was secured by a new padlock and he shook it roughly. After a moment he reached toward the top and hauled himself up. They watched as he landed safely upon the open lawn.

“Time to join him I suppose,” Charly said.

As he landed inside the perimeter, Grant had reached the top of the gate. He carefully dodged the spikes before jumping down.

“The main entrance is that way,” the occultist pointed out. “The washing block should be to the rear then.”

“The water closet is outside?” Grant asked.

“It’s part of their suffrage. At least it makes our task a bit easier.”

They dashed toward the imposing Tudor building and gasped as they reached the left hand corner. The occultist glanced at the rear, just as a young nun stepped inside the washroom.

“Damn. One of the sisters is about to use it.”

Charly dashed toward the door and tried to open it. When it refused, he thumped the door with his fist.

“Get out of there now!”

The startled nun was genuinely terrified. Only six months in service, this was the last thing that she had expected.

“Come on man!” Charly shouted. “Your very soul is in imminent peril.”

Within the cold room, the good lady hesitated. As she did so, the tub gave off a loud howl.

“What in His name was that?” she asked swinging round.

Outside, the occultist became highly alarmed.

“If it escapes again, we are done for!”

He kicked at the door thrice, smashing the lock at the third attempt. As it burst open, a soul wrenching scream met their ears.

The nun was standing near the ceramic tub, engulfed in a firestorm sent from the pit of hell.

“We are too late!” Grant screamed.

“Over my dead body,” Charly shouted.

Ignoring the terrible flames, he grabbed the burning woman and hurled her outside. Dashing out, he rolled her violently until the flames were extinguished. He stared at the charred body and shouted back.

“She’s dead.”

Within the water closet, the occultist and Grant stared at the innocent looking killer.

“At least it’s still here,” Grant commented.

“It won’t stay for long,” the occultist whispered. “I can feel that.”

Charly ran inside and pointed at it.

“Now finish it.”

The occultist stared at him.

“A suggestion would be nice.”

Charly’s agile mind had worked out a rather drastic solution. Without warning, he grabbed the occultist by the shoulders and shoved him headlong into the bathtub. Grabbing Grant, he hauled him outside.

“Hit the deck!”

As they crashed down, the wc detonated. Bricks and stone scattered across the lawn as a fireball rolled towards the blue sky.
When the din had subsided, the two men rose slowly.

“How did you know?” Grant asked.

Charly looked at him.

“After the nun’s death, I suddenly realised that the occultist was immersed in evil. By shoving him into the tub, I created a short circuit. Hence the blast.”

From the monastery, women came running, and the two men dashed for the locked gate. After scrambling over, they dashed down the road until a taxi was successfully flagged down.

“I’m glad that is sorted out,” Grant said. “Hope the cops don’t find out.”

“I doubt that,” Charly replied. “The nuns don’t really know what happened.”

They parted outside the flat and Charly made his way upstairs slowly. As he opened the door, his loving cat padded toward him.
Charly knelt and stroked his pet, before wandering back to the peace of the lounge. As the cat joined him, he stared at the blank tv screen.

“I wonder what’s on.”

He switched it on and noted the film.

“I’ve seen this before,” he muttered. “Oh well. Have to watch it again I suppose.”

Charly settled back as the film played through. His loving pet curled up upon his lap and fell fast asleep.

Forgot to add, this is sequel to Prison..Happy reading...

Of course my dear...Lovely photo..Wish I looked like that..OH BOY!

Of course it has...Love new photo by the way...

Ep 1

A week had now passed since Charly’s return, and indeed, he had flashed his experience across the internet network.
Today, a Sunday, he was visiting his local internet cafe to see how the tweeters were taking it.
As he walked through the broken door, heads turned and a voice cried out, “Here comes the abductee.”

Charly grimaced, walking over to the caller.

“Hello Nero, having fun at my expense?”

Nero smiled and invited him to sit.

“Half the guys here think it’s a story. The other half thinks it was for real.”

“What do you think?”

Nero shook his head, his eyes moving in separate directions.

“I have not made up my mind yet.”

“At least you are truthful.”

“Always am. Plenty of rumours going about too.”

“The internet is full of rumours,” Charly reminded him.

“Not like these.”

Nero pointed to his feed and Charly gazed at the messages.

“Who the hell is Triad?”

"No one knows for sure. It says here that he is in the neighbourhood.”

Charly glanced at the computer screen.

“What else does it say?”

Nero turned nervously.

“Apparently, Triad is looking for you.”

Charly laughed it off and said his farewells. Returning to his flat, he was astonished to see a long, sleek, black truck parked nearby.
As he climbed the stairs a deep voice called out, “Is that you Charly?”

Charly remained silent as he reached the final flight of stairs. The gent who had spoken was tall and sported a grey beard. His dark suit was formal as he produced an ID card.

“Admiral Langly...What can I do for you?”

The military man returned the pass to his top pocket and pointed to the dark haired female wearing the white coat of a medic.

“This is Doctor Jones by the way.”

“Hello...Now what is this about?”

The admiral stroked his beard and said, “Your tweets were picked up by my department and we would like to investigate.”

“As far as I’m concerned there is nothing to investigate.”

“Just allow us inside,” the admiral said. “We will be the judge of that.”

Charly shrugged his shoulders and led them inside the offending bedroom. From the lounge, the cat cried loudly.

“This is where the creature first appeared.”

The admiral glanced around and spoke to the doctor.

“Bring up the equipment.”

As she dashed off, Charly asked, “Is this really necessary. I have to live here you know.”

“National security may be at risk,” the admiral replied. “We cannot have aliens abducting our people.”

“Please yourself. You talk as if you have met little green men.”

The admiral smiled.

“Not little and not green either. I even had the pleasure of meeting a talking cat.”

Charly stared in disbelief as two uniformed troopers entered carrying a rather largish pyramid.

“Put it by the window please,” the doctor said.

Charly gazed at the weird metallic contraption in wonder as Jones knelt and pushed a few buttons.

“I hope it plays music,” Charly said grinning.

“It is a quantum oscillator,” Jones commented as the pyramid began beeping loudly.

“What did you say?”

Jones stood and smiled.

“It detects quantum projection fields you know. We suspect that was how you were abducted.”

“How long will it take?” the admiral asked.

“Not too long sir. There should be enough residual energy to pick up.”

“Well I hope you both know what you are doing.”

“We are the expert’s sir in this field,” the admiral replied.

Charly wandered into the lounge to tend to the cat as the beeps became even louder.

“We have the projection field bandwidth now sir.”

Jones knelt once more and tapped the buttons.

“62.4 and stable.”

“That’s a Siphonan signature,” the admiral hissed.

“If only Jerrix was here,” Jones moaned. “I’m pretty much out of my depth.”

“We cannot resurrect the dead Jones. Just do your best.”

She smiled and nodded as the military man joined Charly in the lounge.

“Find anything?”

“We are on the right track,” Langly assured him.

“So what happens now?”

“We eh, await developments.”

Ep 2

A sudden shout from the bedroom saw them dashing quickly to see what was up.

Charly saw something quite astonishing. The walls of the pyramid had gone opaque and a scene of whirling mist could be seen.

“That gizmo is certainly not ours,” Charly commented.

“We have synchronised with the field sir,” Jones informed them.

Admiral Langly reached into his pocket and drew out a radio.

“Team one, we have a go.”

“I hope you don’t plan to enter that thing?” Charly said as four heavily armed troopers sprinted into the flat.

“How do you expect us to deal with it?” Langly asked.

“The scientist ain't going to be pleased.”

“We are unlikely to end up at the same location,” Jones explained. “Though thanks for the warning.”

As Charly watched, the troopers walked through the pyramid’s walls and promptly vanished. As the admiral and Jones followed, Charly shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s now or never I suppose.”

He took a deep breath and stepped boldly into the unknown.
The scene confronting him was rather strange to say the least. Regardless of what Jones had said, he had expected to arrive inside the familiar lab.

He gazed in astonishment toward the horizon where two huge green moons hung lazily in the sky. High above in the noon position hung a placid sun, whilst brown clouds scurried across its yellow face.

“How did you enjoy the trip?” the admiral asked.

“It was pleasant enough. Where do you think we are?”

“It must be Dorian,” Doctor Jones replied. “Same planet those experiments were conducted on.”

“You got that from my feed.”

“It was a mine of invaluable information,” she said.

Charly saw the troopers scanning their hostile surroundings with their weaponry. The land here was pretty grim, with towering mountains and little sign of vegetation.

“What do you advise?”

“How the hell do I know sir,” Jones answered. “Jerrix is the recognised expert. One thing that I am sure off, this humidity is downright dangerous.”

“Perhaps we should just go back,” Charly suggested. “I don’t fancy drying out here.”

“Where is your sense of adventure?” Langly asked.

“I left it in my bathtub.”

“No sign of the enemy sir,” a trooper commented. “As a matter of fact, no sign of anything.”

“Very well,” Langly replied. “Move out.”

The soldiers began heading in a southeasterly direction, towards what looked like a distant volcano. Charly tagged along as their willing companion.

“Who’s this Jerrix?”

The admiral smiled at the familiar name.

“The talking cat that I spoke of earlier. She helped in a few of our investigations.”

“You are kidding right?”

Jones shook her head.

“She was a friendly alien. The last we heard she was dead. I sure could do with help now.”

“So you have never done this?”

“First time for us,” the admiral conceded. “As a matter of fact I am rather enjoying it.”

A trooper suddenly called out.

“Hit the deck!”

The military types did so instinctively, leaving poor Charly standing in open view. The admiral reached up and hauled him to the dry, greyish soil.

“Get your bloody head down!”

“What’s the problem? I don’t see anything.”

The annoyed officer pointed at the sky where three glittering objects were floating in formation.

Ep 3

“Those are Siphonans,” he hissed. “If you really want to die, I suggest that you do it somewhere else!”

Charly watched as the machines moved lower, their distinctive star shape looking rather elegant. If a little menacing.

“They don’t seem to be armed,” Charly whispered.
“That is the problem,” Langly replied. “They never do!”

The machines swooped but luckily did not detect the humanoids. As they glided off, the troopers visibly relaxed.

“Probably a patrol,” Jones said standing once more.

“Well, at least we know they are here,” Langly said.

“Are you trying to say those stress tests have something to do with them?”

“Isn’t that rather obvious?” Langly asked. “Where were you when they bloody well landed?”

“Safe at home of course. We never saw them. I just put it down to media hype.”

“Bloody typical,” the admiral exclaimed. “Jerrix had to lower the planet’s temp to drive them off and you were lounging.”

“I thought that little ice age was caused by CO2 levels.”

“Now you know the truth. Those bastards set up work camps, especially in Northumbria. Tens of thousands were murdered.”

“I had no idea,” Charly said sheepishly.

“Would you two stop arguing?” Jones said sharply. “We must stick together.”

The two men glared at one another, before strutting off toward the distant and ominous mountain. As they reached what looked to them like a large crater, a familiar voice was heard.

“Strange this you know. The crater is rich in Dolomite. A very rare mineral in this galaxy.”

Langly and Jones looked over the outer lip and saw around twenty feet below a large slim cat with sea blue eyes and wearing a distinctive yellow cloak around his deep brown fur.

“Jerrix!” the admiral gasped.

The five-foot high feline looked up.

“So what are you stupid humanoids doing on Dorian?” he demanded.
Doctor Jones gripped the admiral’s arm tightly.

“That is an earlier incarnation sir. He obviously does not know us.”

The military man took this in and measured his reply.

“Simply following up on a lead. We regard the Siphonan’s as a grave threat.”

The feline stopped examining the crater floor and quickly scrambled up the steep bank.

“As do I by the way. How did you lot get here?”

“We designed a quantum oscillator,” the doctor replied.

The moggy was less than pleased.

“You lot should not have that kind of technology. Far too dangerous.”

“We had no choice and it is lucky we did. This poor chap was abducted.”

Jerrix regarded Charly with interest.

“The Siphonan’s grabbed you did they? Then explain why you are still alive?”

In utter astonishment, Charly related his experience.
Jerrix scratched his head and thought deeply.

“Obviously that scientist was working for them. More fool you to let him live.”

“If I had killed him, we would not have got home.”

The cat snarled.

“Ever heard of self sacrifice? Of course, you haven’t. Your species is too tied up with self preservation.”

“Could we have less of the I am superior to you please?” Langly asked. “We really need the help.”

“Of course you need my help,” Jerrix snapped. “When I detected the quantum fluctuation I landed here.”

Doctor Jones decided to ask a simple question. To be truthful, she expected a simple reply.

“How old is that crater?”

“About twenty thousand years my dear. The asteroid that made it was fairly small by galactic standards.”

“Did you spot the machines?”

Jerrix gazed at the admiral rather harshly.

“Of course I spotted them. The good thing about a crater is that it is easy to hide in.”

“So will you help?” Jones asked.

Jerrix smiled radiantly.

“Why not, without me you jumped up monkeys will never leave this planet alive.”

The cat reached inside a cavernous pocket and produced a forklike device, which he waived around. After a moment or two, he glanced at the readout.

He screwed his eyes before muttering, “Obviously that volcano is an artificial construct.”

Jerrix then padded toward the admiral.

“What lofty position do you hold?”

The military man introduced his team.

The cat raised his eyebrows.

“Can’t you just sit behind a desk or something?”

Doctor Jones decided intervention was necessary.

“You may be the recognised expert Jerrix but come on, treat us a little better eh?”

Jerrix snarled at her before padding toward the distant mountain.

“I hope that you cretins brought enough water with you.”

Charly caught up with the admiral as they trekked toward the ominous peak.

“Is this the cat you spoke of?”

The military man glanced at him.

“I am rather afraid it is. When we met him, he had eh, calmed down shall I say.”

Charly ran up to join the fearless moggy.

“How did you get here?”

“I have a ship of course. What a stupid question.”

Charly was shocked by the insult.

“I was just checking that we could get home again.”

The cat stopped in midstride.

“I will certainly get home again sonny. As for you lot though...I’m not so sure.”

Jerrix gazed at the mountain and strode on, leaving Charly rather nonplussed.

“Don’t worry,” the doctor said to him. “We will survive this.”

“I just hope you are right.”

From ahead the moggy said rather indignantly, “I heard that.”

Ep 4

After trekking for an hour, they stood at last beneath the huge volcanic mount. No sign of the machines, or their designs.
Jerrix gazed up at the dark summit, noting the black volcanic rocks that made ascent extremely treacherous.

“We cannot possibly climb that,” the admiral protested.

The cat glanced at him and said, “We can and we will. If you wish to stay here that is your affair.”

The determined moggy began climbing slowly and carefully as the humans watched with mounting dread.

“What’s the point?” Charly asked.

Jerrix stopped beneath a line of boulders and glanced back.
“The Siphonan’s went to a lot of trouble to build this my boy. I want to find out why.”

“This has nothing to do with my abduction though.”

Jerrix rolled his eyes.

“Those stress tests were to see how you lot would cope. It is fairly obvious that the scientist is working for our enemies. The answer must lie within this mountain.”

Jerrix stared at the boulders before clambering over them.
“I suppose we better tag along,” the admiral said. “If only to check out his theory.”

The doctor smiled.

“Knowing him, he is probably right sir.”

The military party began the ascent as the cat saw the ominous overhang.

“This could be a little troublesome.”

He edged closer and saw a small gap, which his claws clung too. With a mighty pull, he flipped over the hanging rock and sat down to rest.
Far below, the party was clambering slowly toward him.

“By the time you lot reach the summit, darkness will have fallen. Try and move faster will you?”

They had now reached the overhang and Jerrix pointed out the small handhold.

The admiral came first, breathing heavily as he hauled himself onto the ledge. The doctor soon followed, her youth giving her an obvious advantage. Charly found the going a little difficult, and was happy when he clambered onto the ledge.

As the four armed men reached the overhang, the cat muttered, “That just leaves the troopers.”

The first of them was in the act of gripping the handhold when the mountainside began shaking violently.

“The damn thing is going to erupt!” Charly shouted.

As the shaking grew worse, large volcanic boulders high above began to roll towards them with gathering velocity.

“Everyone down!” Jerrix screamed as the boulders rushed at them.

The troopers tried to avoid the hellish impact, but in their exposed position, this was hardly credible. The boulders struck and the smashed bodies hurtled toward the ground.

“Crikey,” the cat exclaimed. “That was a little close.”

“We lost our men,” the admiral informed him. “You're stupid idea has caused this.”

Jerrix turned on him.

“You are only here on sufferance remember? You brought yourselves.”

He gazed upward and began climbing once more.

“What do you think caused that?” Charly asked the doctor.

“How the hell do I know? Artificial volcanoes simply don’t do that sort of thing.”

From high above the cat said, “Machinery probably. They may be widening the interior.”

They had now reached another ledge, roughly ten feet from the gaping maw of the crater.

“We are nearly there,” Jerrix muttered.

He scrambled to the lip and as the others joined him, he peered inside. What he saw was quite astonishing.
A small metallic machine was midway inside the mountain, busily chewing away at the hardened rock strata. The fearless muggy peered at the sides, his nimble mind working out a stratagem.

The admiral glanced at him.

“We can’t go down there Jerrix. No handholds for a start.”

The feline glared, as he usually does when his intelligence is questioned.

“Oh yea of little faith. How else can we discover what they are up to? Perhaps we should sit here and shout down perhaps?”

“Your sarcasm is getting a little repetitive,” Doctor Jones reminded him.

“I intend to get inside, and if you lot of glorified baboons wish to stay here, that’s your lookout.”

Charly nodded slowly.

“I’m game.”

The admiral stared at him.

“After your previous experience?”

“Why not sir? It’s not every day that you visit an alien planet.”

Jerrix tapped his shoulder.

“That’s the spirit. Now let me see...”

The small rock eater ignored them of course. As it hungrily expanded the interior, Jerrix clambered over the edge.

“Just be ruddy careful.”

“I’m always careful admiral. It’s you lot I’m worried about.”

Very carefully, the intrepid hero clambered inside the open vent. His claws digging in, trying not to dislodge the loose rocks. Six feet below the crater, the feline spotted something.

Ep 5

Glancing up, he whispered, “There is an access tunnel here. Come on you lot down you come. The picnic’s over.”

Jerrix entered the tunnel, which had been lined with metallic sheets. As his reluctant companions joined him he said, “This is wide enough to accommodate their machines. I wonder where it leads to?”

“We had better find out eh?” Charly suggested.

Jerrix grinned and padded on, peering ahead.
The tunnel was rather long and at the far end, it dropped away sharply.

“Oh that is brilliant,” the admiral spluttered. “You led us into a dead end.”

Jerrix shook his furry head and peered down the vertical shaft.

“This is where they leave from. We must get down there.”

Doctor Jones glanced down and backed away.

“No ruddy way. That is a sheer drop. Not even you can get down there.”

Jerrix scanned the shining walls and wet his finger.

“Quite a breeze. It may be enough for our needs.”

As the military glanced at each other, Charly smiled to himself.

“You intend to jump.”

“I think the air volume will support us. Let me go first though.”

The admiral stepped forward and held him tight,

“I cannot allow that my friend. If you get splattered, we are marooned here.”

Jerrix shook him off.

“I never get splattered. Just you watch.”

Before anyone could stop him, he stepped into space with open arms. Like a skydiver, the cat fell at a rapid pace before the column of air slowed his descent. A moment later, he landed quite safely.

“Well I made it,” he called up.

This was enough for Charly. He threw himself forward and watched the ground hurtling towards him. When the deceleration came, he was rather relieved.

“That was pretty wild,” he gasped.

Looking up, the admiral and doctor followed suit and promptly joined them.

“This passage leads further into the mountain,” Jerrix explained. “You lot follow me and keep your voices down.”

They crept forward until the cat stopped suddenly.

“We have reached the control room. There are only two machines in here.”

“We cannot deal with those,” the admiral reminded him. “My pistol is no use.”

“I already know that,” Jerrix replied. “Let us hope this works.”

He pulled out his fork like device and set the dial. As everyone watched, he pointed it at the Siphonan machines and pressed.
Moments later, both machines exploded and Jerrix dashed forward.

“They seem quite dead to me. Now to find out what they are up to.”

“What did you do to them?” Charly asked.

“I reset their nemorax matrix, causing a short circuit.”

“That blast must have been heard by their buddies,” the doctor pointed out. “Whatever you do, do it damn quickly.”

Jerrix scanned the console and pressed a single button. A viewing screen sprang to life and what it revealed was truly terrifying. Within a huge rocky cavern, thousands of machines stood ready for action. Jerrix staggered back in shock.

“There must be enough to conquer the entire galaxy.”

From the right side, a single voice grated a response.

“More than enough Jerrix Tau.”

The companions swung around and saw three machines hovering at a doorway. The first was smaller than the rest and the feline recognised him at once.

“Mr Ambassador. Long time no see.”

The machines glided towards them.

“Our army will indeed conquer the galaxy, and your interference is not appreciated.”

Jerrix padded toward the mechanical monsters.

“Oh I don’t know. I enjoy our meetings.”

The doctor had been unnerved by their arrival and made a dash for the tunnel. Before she had taken twenty paces, a pink ray lashed out and reduced her to ash.

“There was no need for that!” the cat shouted.

Two shots cracked the air as the admiral let rip with his sidearm. The bullets had no effect but the machines cut him down anyway. Jerrix threw up his paws in desperation.

“Stop the killing now.”

Charly stood in shock as the feline joined him. Glancing quickly he said, “If you stay calm you shall live.”

The terrified humanoid simply nodded.

“You will accompany us now,” the ambassador grated.

Reluctantly, the captives followed their jailors into another corridor, which led to a huge chamber. Jerrix recognised it as the one upon the screen.

“Why bring us here?”

“What you see before you,” the ambassador said. “Is an entirely new construct. These machines are invulnerable to everything.”

“Tut, tut my friend,” Jerrix replied. “Nothing is invulnerable.”

“Are they empty?” Charly asked.

“Sort of,” Jerrix said. “These machines are sentient.”

“They have been designed to withstand anything,” the ambassador insisted.

“How about a demonstration?” Jerrix asked pulling out his device.

“Do you think this will work?”

As Charly watched in utter horror, the device activated but nothing happened.

“Proof enough?” the ambassador asked.

Jerrix looked more than a little downcast. He slid the device back inside his cloak pocket and placed his paws behind his back.

“Seems that I stand corrected.”

The ambassador floated toward them.

“I have something planned for you.”

The prisoners were frogmarched from the chamber and into a small, cell like structure. As the door slid shut, Charly asked, “How long will they keep us here?”

Jerrix sat upon the floor looking rather grim.

“Only until they are ready to execute us both my boy.”

“They could have done that already.”

“True, but the ambassador loves to play upon my nerves.”

“You don’t seem too worried,” Charly observed.

“When you are about to die, there is really not much point.”

Ep 6

Charly started pacing back and forth, thinking deeply.

“Are there any natural volcanoes upon this planet?”

Jerrix stared at him.

“Of course there is. Siphonans are not that stupid.”

“Which means volcanism,” Charly continued.

Jerrix stared at him for a moment as Charly pressed on.

“Don’t you get it? What we need is lava.”

Jerrix stood and said, “You my friend are not as daft as you look.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Jerrix produced his fork like device and set it on scan mode. He pointed it at the floor and started waiving it around. As Charly watched, he read the readout.

“The crust is unnaturally thin here my boy. A little trickery is required to pull this off.”

The cat padded to the cell door and started banging loudly. He stepped back as the ambassador glided inside.

“We are almost ready for you,” he grated with deep menace.

“Oh don’t be so stupid,” the cat replied. “This planet of yours is seething with Dolomite.”

The star shaped machine seemed to regard him steadily.

“Don’t you lot check first?” the moggy asked.

“You can prove this?” the ambassador asked.

Jerrix pointed to the centre of the floor.

“Try firing one of your bolts here my boy. You’ll soon see the truth of my words.”

Jerrix stepped back and dragged the humanoid towards him.

The machine fired an energy bolt, which did indeed penetrate the floor. Seconds later, the entire complex shook violently.
Grabbing Charly roughly, the cat screamed, “Run for it!”
They scampered into the vast chamber as huge cracks appeared upon the metallic floor. The ambassador hovered into view, firing wildly.

“Over here,” the cat insisted, running for the tunnel.

As lava smashed through the floor of the chamber, Charly glanced back in mounting horror.

“We will never make it!”

They bolted into the control room as a wall of lava smashed through the opposite wall.

“Looks as if you are right,” Jerrix conceded.

He pressed the gold throat clasp, and seconds later, a soft green glow appeared beside them. The cat hauled the startled human inside as the lava wave broke upon them.

“That was ruddy close,” Jerrix muttered, padding towards the star shaped console.

“Wow...”

Standing at the north apex Jerrix tapped until the galactic map appeared upon the central screen. Charly noticed the two flashing dots.

“Those are departure and arrival points,” the cat explained.

Padding to the east apex, he activated the drive system. There was no sense of movement, nothing at all. As the door slid open, Charly saw his own bedroom.

“I’m back.”

“You certainly are my friend. Now, I will have to remove that quantum oscillator before any other fool uses it.”

Jerrix left the craft and picked up the pyramid easily. After dropping it inside, he turned towards Charly.

“One piece of advice that I can give you. Next time something strange happens here, just run for it eh? Rescue missions are not my idea of fun.”

The door slid shut and the alien craft faded from view.
Charly shook his head and stumbled back into the lounge where the loving cat meowed loudly. Charly knelt down and stroked it softly.

“Don’t you worry love. I’m home now.”

Two loud knocks from the front door smashed his sense of peace.

“Who the hell could that be?”

He tramped along the hall and opened the door quickly. A naked female with heavy burns fell into his open arms. Laying her down upon the carpet, he was about to rush towards the phone when she gripped his arm.

“The bathtub...The bathtub...”

The drunken sailor lurched from the bar of the Happy Ram in Medley Street, London docks. He had just completed yet another eight month voyage, and dressed in his civies and wearing the service cap, he set off towards his penny digs.
The fog had thickened as he zig-zagged down the alley way, stumbling as he entered Larson Road.
“Never drink more than three rums me hearty,” he slurred as the clomping sound of hooves approached.
He strained his eyes through the gloom.
“What goes on there?”
His eyes widened at a hideous sight. A huge luminous coach, driven by a skeletal figure, was bearing down upon him.
The unfortunate man only had time to scream, before the wheels crushed him to a bloody pulp.
“Did you have to accost that old gent?” Jones asked, as Selby made himself comfortable.
“He nearly ran us over old man. What else did you expect me to do.”
“The poor codger was half blind.”
“Then he should not have been driving.”
The knock at the flat door interrupted their conversation and moments later Inspector Campbell entered.
“Enjoy your holiday?”
Jones grinned.
“Quite relaxing. As long as you are not a pensioner.”
Selby scowled and asked, “What can we do for you today?”
The Inspector looked rather uncomfortable.
“A rather delicate case has crossed my desk. It could do with your expert eye.”
The detective glanced at his friend.
“Here that Jones. Expert eye. You had better tell me about it.”
The Inspector related the cold facts as the detective looked on. When the account had ended, Jones asked, “Any witnesses?”
“Just a crazy old woman who swears it was a phantom coach.”
Selby glanced at Jones.
“We should talk to her my friend. Crazy or not, she must be heard.”
At the corner of Larson Road, above a sweet shop, stood the home of the crazy woman. She was a sprightly eighty year old who was often rather inebriated.
“I tell you sir, tis was a damn ghost that killed the sailor.”
“You saw it?” Jones asked.
“As clear as day sir. I was gazing out the window when it struck him dead.”
“Describe it to us,” Selby said slowly.
The woman’s eyes rolled for a moment, “Tis was a glowing white and rode by Satan.”
“Come on now,” Selby said. “That is rather far fetched.”
“You were not there sir. A skeleton it was.”
Standing outside, the two gents glanced at each other.
“The woman’s quite batty you know,” Jones said.
“I don’t think so old man. That emotion was genuine.”
“How can that be genuine Selby? Ghost coaches just don’t exist.”
“Perhaps not, but fluorescence does.”
“I don’t quite follow,” Jones admitted.
“The horse and coach must have been dowsed in the stuff. As for Satan, well, a man in a mask obviously.”
“For what reason though?” Jones asked. “The victim was not that important.”
“I think the answer to that one lies upon his ship.”
When they found the vessel at anchor, Jones was none too impressed. A simple sloop it was, captained by an uncouth man who sported a filthy beard.
“So you want to know all about him do you?”
“That would be terribly helpful sir,” Selby said.
“He was a jolly hard worker but a little loose with the booze. I had to lock him up a few times.”
“Was he a gambler?” Jones asked.
“He didn’t know when to stop,” the captain replied.
“So he ran up debts then,” the detective commented.
“Like there was no tomorrow.”
As Jones figured that one out, Selby tapped his shoulder.
“A trip to that boozer is required old man. The answer to the puzzle certainly lies there.”
The barman at the Happy Ram certainly remembered the unfortunate sailor.
“When he left here, he was pretty far gone.”
“Who was he drinking with?” Selby asked.
“A middle-aged chap who goes by the name of Rodgers.”
“What does he do for a living?” Jones asked.
“He runs a coach you know. Wealthy folks only you understand.”
Selby gazed at the barman seriously.
“Where can we see him?”
The barman thought back for a moment.
“Wayward Yard is the place. He’ll be glad to see you.”
As they made their way to the yard, Selby pieced the puzzle together.
“They must have had an argument over a gambling debt old man, and Rodgers decided to give him a fright.”
“So he posed as the ghost coach?”
“Exactly. Probably never intended to harm him though.”
Wayward Yard was quiet as the two gents entered carefully. Selby spotted the tell-tale luminous splotches upon the ground.
“We have our man Jones. Now just be careful.”
At the far end, two massive doors swung open and a huge coach trundled towards them. Sitting upon the driver’s seat was the masked miscreant.
“Look out!” Selby said pushing his friend aside.
The coach bore down, and at the last moment Selby jumped onto the foot step and grabbed the miscreant’s arm.
“Slow down man.”
“Get stuffed.”
Selby balled his fist and struck him hard. The driver reeled and toppled off as the coach lurched to the left. A hellish scream rent the air as the rear wheel crushed the life out of him.
The detective grabbed the reins and brought the carriage to a rapid halt.
“It’s up for him,” Jones said staring at the smashed corpse.
Selby shook his head sadly.
“The gambler paid too high a price for my liking.”

To Kill the King

It was the knock which woke him up. It was loud and repetitive. He opened his eyes and saw Jones looking out of the window.
“Something interesting?” Selby asked.
“Look for yourself,” Jones said, half turning.
Yawning, the detective climbed to his feet and joined his partner.
“We have royal company,” he said.
“How do you know?” Jones demanded.
Selby pointed to the royal crest upon the carriage door.
“I hope nobody has stolen the Crown Jewels,” he said slowly, before breaking into a large grin.
“Come on Jones,” he said walking towards the front door. “No rest for the wicked.”
Jones shook his head sadly. It was going to be a long night.
Later, Selby returned with a gentleman, in a dark suit and tie of around fifty years.
“Please have a seat,” Selby said sitting opposite.
“I am Taylor Wyatt and...”
“Personal bodyguard to George V,” Selby interrupted. “Don’t look so worried. I read it in the London Times. Please continue.”
“It appears,” Wyatt said. “That His Majesty fears an attack by the so-called Cooper gang and wants you to look into it.”
Jones raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“What would that gang of misfits want with the king?”
“He did make a reference to them in last week’s speech,” Wyatt replied. “Now he has received this short note.”
Selby took it and read quickly. Then he said, “At least it’s to the point.”
“I agree,” Wyatt said. “Now what can we do about it?”
“Tell His Majesty that I will do my best,” Selby said scratching his head.
The bodyguard nodded and left.
“Where do we start?” Jones asked.
“Let’s pay Pinky a visit. He may have something.”
As the brougham took them towards their destination, Jones wondered what a petty thief would know about a gang of cut throats.
The cab stopped in Fleet Street, opposite an old man in ragged clothing and wild grey hair. As Selby approached he tried to run, but a single shot cut him down. The detective swung around to see a cab careering out of sight.
“Did you get the number?” Jones asked.
Selby shook his head.
“Not this time. At least they know we’re on to them.”
After the autopsy, Inspector Campbell handed Selby the single bullet which had killed Pinky.
“What do you make of it?” he asked.
“It’s made of silver,” Selby said, examining it closely.
“Correct,” the Inspector replied. “The trademark of the Cooper gang.”
Jones tapped Selby on the shoulder and whispered. Selby swallowed hard.
“Is there something I should know?” the Inspector asked, glancing between the two of them.
“They are going to murder the king,” Selby said slowly.
The Inspector stepped back, and Selby explained.
“In that case,” the Inspector said. “We can take over from here. I don’t think you will be needed.”
Once in the main street, Selby stopped dead.
“I’m a fool. If you were going to kill the king, where would you do it Jones?”
“The Mall. It’s wide open there.”
Selby gripped his shoulders.
“The king travels down that route on the morrow. According to The Times, he is off on holiday.”
“Good lord,” Jones replied. “We have to stop him.”
“Better than that,” Selby replied. “We can lay a trap. Come on. We have to tell Campbell. We need his men.”
The following morning, Selby and the Inspector stood among 300 plain clothes policemen who had been drafted in from the Home Counties to deal with the threat.
“I hope the gang turns up,” the Inspector said. “My reputation depends upon it.”
“As does my own,” Selby replied. “If I’m wrong, it’s a quick trip to the Tower for me.”
A moment later, the King’s carriage swung into view, and the detective rested his hand upon his concealed pistol. He scanned the opposite line of people and saw something that alarmed him considerably.
Three of them were moving forward slowly, and turning towards the approaching monarch. Without warning, Selby dashed into the Mall, making straight for the carriage.
Realising something was up, Campbell followed, only to see the detective cut down in a hail of gunfire.
“He’s one of ours you fools,” Campbell screamed, as he reached Selby’s prone body.
Then he saw three people with handguns drawn, running away through the screaming crowds. As he watched them depart, he knew what had happened. He turned his head wildly to see Jones running towards him.
“He put himself in the line of fire,” Campbell explained.
“I know old man. There is help on the way. He doesn’t look too good.”
A constable ran up to the kneeling pair.
“They got away sir. I doubt that we will catch up with them.”
Selby’s eyes flickered open, and from his cracked lips a single word drifted forth.
“Distillery.”
Jones turned to the Inspector.
“I’ve got it. Coopers make barrels.”
That night, the forces of law and order were massed outside a tall dark building with cracked windows. Jones produced his firearm and on a given signal, the twelve officers burst through the outer doors.
They were met by a hail of metal, and a number of officers fell, fatally wounded. The officers charged, and bullets crashed through the air, cutting down the Cooper gang.
At the end, the floor was littered with bodies, and fresh blood was flowing towards the Thames.
Jones looked around at the carnage.
“What a mess.”
Campbell asked carefully, “How is your partner?”
“He will be out in six weeks. Then we will be back on the streets.”
 
Who Killed the Time Traveller?

The door opened and Inspector Campbell strolled in with a smirk upon his chubby face.
“Morning Inspector,” Selby said looking up from his book.
“You look well,” Campbell said. “What are you reading by the way?”
“He’s into time travel now,” Jones said smiling.
“The Time Machine is a good novel,” Selby replied scowling.
“Ah...H G Campbell replied. “Great man. Read him myself you know.”
Selby put down the book and said, “Have you come to exchange common niceties, or is there a purpose to your visit?”
The Inspector sat down and tossed a coin onto his lap.
“What do you make of this?”
Selby picked it up and examined it.
It was a simple bronze coin showing a crown and the number two with a woman’s head on the obverse side.
“1998? Queen Elizabeth the second? Where did you get this little gem?”
“From a body we pulled the Thames this morning. He’s in the morgue now.”
Selby sprang to his feet.
“Come on Jones, I have to see this.”
The dead man was around thirty, with flowing blonde hair and a severe wound upon his skull. Selby examined his clothes and remarked that they were quite odd.
“Single piece garments like these don’t belong to our time you know.”
“Oh come on,” Jones said. “I reckon those bullets did more damage than we thought.”
“So what do you think?” Selby demanded, turning on him.
“A prank that went wrong perhaps. How about you Inspector? Believe in time travellers?”
The Inspector shuffled his feet but did not reply.
“So you found no identity on him?” Selby asked.
“Nothing. Not even cigarettes.”
“So we have a mystery,” Jones said.
Selby turned away and stared into space.
“Who killed the time traveller?”
As they were leaving, Selby asked the Inspector, “Exactly where was the body found?”
Campbell stopped for a moment and said, “Just down the river from Tower Bridge.”
“I would suggest that we check the hotels in that area then,” Selby suggested. “After all, he had to stay somewhere.”
They had checked most of the hotels when they found themselves outside the Charles Hotel in Whitechapel High Street.
This was a modern building with an unusual crested roof. As they wandered inside, they met a thin woman at the reception desk.
After a bit of questioning, they established that their victim had been staying on the premises. When they entered his room, they got quite a shock.
“Have a look at this,” Jones said pointing to the bed.
Selby picked up the object and examined it.
It was a silver flat screen watch with a number of buttons on the side. Selby was about to press a few when Campbell stopped him.
“Is that wise?”
“We have to. There is no other way.”
The first button did nothing but the second activated the screen. Upon its surface, a small map appeared with a flashing cursor.
The Inspector gazed at the device and asked, “What do you make of it?”
“It looks like Greenwich Park, where the observatory is.”
“Let’s go there. Now we might get an answer.”
They took a brougham and arrived within half an hour. As they gazed across the park, they wondered what they were looking for.
“Just what does a time machine look like?” Campbell asked.
“I have no idea. Just look for something that shouldn’t be there.”
As they walked across the green grass, they saw a six foot triangular object nestling under the branches of a tree. They approached it slowly and stopped less than a foot away.
“Now what do we do?” Jones asked.
Selby took the watch from his pocket and pressed another button. Immediately, the side vanished and revealed a glittering interior. The three men walked inside and saw a young woman standing beside a control panel.
“You found his body then” she said casually.
“Who was he?” Selby wanted to know.
“It doesn’t matter now,” the woman replied. Then she brushed back her brown hair and said, “His death was an accident. A levitating device failed.”
“He could fly?” Jones asked incredulously.
“In a way,” the woman replied. “It is a waste really. It will set the project back a decade.”
“What project?” Selby asked moving closer.
“I cannot answer that,” the woman replied. “It would divert the time line.”
“I think I understand,” Selby replied.
The woman looked at him strangely.
“You understand the multiplicity?”
“Only vaguely,” the detective said.
Then on a hunch, he told her his name.
The woman turned away from her controls and walked up to him. As his companions looked on, she raised her left hand and stroked his cheek.
“I see good looks run in the family.”
“Then you are...”
The woman stepped back with a grin.
“Carla John Selby. You are my great, great grandfather. It was you we came to see.”
The shock was almost too much.
He reeled back and would have fallen, had Jones not caught him.
“What is it like in your time?” he managed to ask.
“It’s hell John. Pure hell.”
The woman returned to her control panel and Selby moved to hand over the watch. She shook her head.
“If I ever return,” she said. “I will send out a signal and the watch will tell you where I am.”
Selby nodded as she said, “It’s time to go.”
They walked from the craft and Selby had a terrible feeling in his bones. It was still there when they watched the vehicle vanish a few minutes later.
Back in his flat, Selby picked up the ‘Time Machine’ and threw it across the floor.
“It’s just fantasy,” he muttered.
Jones patted his back.
“She was real John. She was too real.”
 
Ripper

Selby watched as Jones strode into the room with water dripping from his new suit.
“I told you it would rain,” Selby commented smiling.
Jones gave him a sideward glance, and produced the paper from beneath his jacket.
“Read that,” he said, throwing it onto his friend’s lap.
Selby glanced at the headline and inhaled sharply.
“That is the third this week. So what are we going to do about it?”
Selby climbed to his feet and replied, “See Inspector Campbell of course. He needs our help.”
The Inspector handed the detective the latest report on the victim, which Selby read with grim determination. Then he put it down and said quietly, “I need a map. Have you got one?”
Campbell opened his desk drawer and produced the article, which Selby rolled out.
As Jones stood beside him, Selby pointed to various locations.
“Bizzard was killed in Kensington Park. The second victim died in Hyde Park. The last met her end in Green Park. Now that indicates that the fourth will die at St James.”
“He dislikes parks?” Campbell asked.
Selby shook his head slowly.
“Not the parks Inspector. It’s the women she hates.”
“A woman did these?” Jones spluttered.
“A well built woman in her early fifties, I would say,” Selby replied.
“That is unlikely,” Campbell told him. “We are dealing with a madman.”
Selby rolled up the map and for once decided to explain himself.
“I believe that this woman cannot have children of her own, hence the brutal removal of the victim’s sexual organs. Call it a kind of psychological self mutilation. She must be well built to overpower the victims and it’s twenty-four years since her last escapade.”
The Inspector raised his eyebrows.
“Jack the Ripper? Are you serious?”
“Never more so. That letter to Scotland Yard was written by a woman. I have studied it, you know.”
“So Jack is short for...?”
Selby turned to his companion.
“Who else but Jaqueline.”
The Inspector broke into uncontrollable laughter before managing to pull himself together.
Selby scowled and tapped the desk twice.
“Are you going to deploy your men, or shall you leave it to me?”
“I’ll deploy them all right. But I swear this to you. If it turns out to be a bloke, your reputation will be in tatters.”
“I can live with that. Just make sure you get her.”
With that short statement the detective strode out.
“Bungling fool,” he muttered as they strode down the packed London street.
“You’d better calm down,” Jones replied. “People are starting to stare.”
“Then let them. Tonight my friend,” he said raising his voice, “We are going to get that demented woman.”
St James was deadly quiet. Selby, Jones, and the Inspector were resting against one of the many trees.
“I’ve got this place sown up so tight that not even a spider could get in undetected.”
“You think so Inspector?,” Selby said, crouching down and pushing his hand into the soft earth. He pulled out a handful of dirt with spiders in abundance.
“These got through.”
Jones shook his head as Selby stood up.
“Do you need to show off?”
The scream prevented his reply.
“Come on this way,” Selby said, bounding into the dark.
They followed until within 100 yards they found him standing over the body of a twenty year old woman. She was smartly dressed and very dead.
Selby’s torch danced over the corpse as the shrill of police whistles ripped through the night.
“Her womb has been removed,” Selby said before swinging his torch around the scene. Then he gasped.
“Blood spatters. Stay here.”
Before they could react, he had darted off in hot pursuit. He followed his quarry into George Street, through Parliament Square, and onto Westminster Bridge. Then he stopped dead. Just ahead of him, a hooded figure stood, menacing and silent. Then the hood was pushed back and the face was illuminated in torchlight.
Short dark hair, a brutal nose, and blazing eyes. In short, a vision of hell.
It strode towards him, an arm pointing towards the heavens.
“Why should they have children when my womb is barren?” it screeched.
“That is no reason to murder the innocent,“ Selby screamed back.
“You support them,” she screamed. “You will be my first male victim.”
Before Selby could react she was upon him. Long sharp fingers smashed the torch from his grasp before plunging into his unprotected throat. Brute strength lifted him from the ground, and the detective felt himself rapidly suffocating.
In a final desperate attempt to save himself, he lashed out with his right foot, which connected with the killer’s groin.
The grasping hands let go, and Selby collided with the hard path, gasping for life giving air.
He looked up and saw the Ripper bent over in agony. As approaching steps signalled the arrival of the cavalry, he threw himself at her. Arms outstretched, he pushed her violently against the waist high balustrade. She turned, snarling like an animal, just in time to receive his right hook. Her head shot back and her body overbalanced.
With a long, panic stricken scream, she plunged into the freezing water of the Thames. A moment later, Campbell, Jones and four policemen arrived on the scene.
“You’re too late,” Selby gasped.”The Ripper is dead.”
“Was it a woman?” Jones asked.
Selby nodded before turning slowly and walking away. Alone once more in their flat, Selby put his feet up and seemed to lapse into deep sleep. Then he opened his eyes and whispered, “I think we need a holiday.”
Despite an intensive police search, the woman’s body was never recovered.

Selby was a thin, tired looking man around forty. His dark brown hair was thick and curly, which gave him a strange look in the rigid class system of 1911.
As he entered the premises on Duke Street, he noted with interest the gargoyle which sat to the left of the mahogany door.
“Strange brute that,” he said to the butler.
The tall man ignored him, and led him quickly through to the lounge, where lady Marion Porter waited.
“Nice of you to come so quickly sir,” she said from the comfort of the sofa.
“I like to be prompt,” he replied. “May I ask why you need the services of a detective?”
The woman reached into the top of her dress and held out a black and white photograph.
“I would like you to find him sir.”
He regarded the picture with interest. It showed a short, sturdy and balding man.
“Is he a relation?” Selby asked.
The lady smiled.
“No sir. He is my husband.”
Selby coughed and placed the photo into his inside pocket. Raising his voice a little, he said, “In that case, I will need a full list of your husband’s watering holes.”
A light drizzle had fallen upon the streets of London, and Jones felt uncomfortable in his formal attire.
As the brougham drew up outside the Atrium Club, his employer climbed out and paid the driver.
“Take a deep breath Jones,” Selby said. “We are entering rarefied air indeed.”
Jones smiled and followed him inside. The doorman stepped aside as he received the expected bribe, and they walked into a large formal room.
Members of the local gentry, dressed in dark suits, and talking with upper class accents, were sitting at tables dotted around the floor.
“Imagine it Jones,” Selby whispered. “There is enough money here to keep you for life.”
He walked over to the bar area and accosted the barman.
“Have you seen this man?”
The barman glanced at the photograph quickly, and shook his head.
Jones stepped in.
“We understand he comes here regularly. We can always double check you know.”
The young barman scowled and said softly, “He was here two nights ago. What of it?”
Gradually the barman talked. The object of Selby’s attention had left the club with two well dressed women. He had overheard them saying they would walk by the river.
“Come on Jones,” Selby said at length. “Let’s go fishing.”
As the carriage took them towards the Thames, Jones said, “This will take us all night.”
Selby shook his head.
“Not so. I reckon those women are rather loose with their favours. Which means one place. The Albert Bridge.”
“I think you are jumping to conclusions,” Jones replied. “You have no proof that these two are women of that sort.”
Selby laughed.
“Tell me Jones. How many well to do women do you know who operate in pairs?”
“Well none of course.”
“Exactly. Women of the night always do you know. It’s called safety in numbers.”
The two men sauntered down Cheyne Walk towards the large suspension bridge which crossed the river towards Battersea Park. They had only gone a short distance when Selby noticed something.
He stooped down and picked up a handkerchief.
“So it ended in murder,” he said softly.
He held out the piece of cloth, and pointed to the initials H A in the corner.
“Follow me,” he said tersely.
Jones hurried after him, until they came to a building painted brilliant white.
There were red curtains hanging at each window.
“This is the place,” Selby said, bounding up the steps. He rapped loudly on the door.
“We need to see Sarah and Helen this very minute,” he said to the middle-aged women who opened it.
The woman smiled, and led them to a reception area. A moment later two women entered. They were both about 40, and wore flowing dresses that were so low cut that Jones eyes opened in amazement.
“Can we do something for you sir?” one of them asked, her voice low and her eyes slyly flirtatious.
Selby took the handkerchief from his pocket.
“Fetch the Peelers Jones. We have the killers.”
Slowly the story came out.
“Soon after we reached the bridge, our client became violent through his damn whisky. He pushed Helen to the ground, and would have killed her if I hadn’t slammed him over the head with my cosh. After that we rolled him into the drink. It was self defence sir. We swear.”
It was only when they had been led away that an amazed Jones questioned his companion.
“It was the handkerchief, my dear friend. Remember those initials? H A? I know the ladies of this area, and that meant Helen Anderson. As for her friend, you never see them apart.”
They hailed a brougham which took them to their modest second floor flat, and sank into two chairs.
“Now we wait for the next case,” Selby said, before falling asleep.

EP 1

By Colin Bristow.

Charly woke to find himself alone that awful morning. A medium height chap, who had always respected others, the feeling of desertion closed in rapidly.
He climbed from his bed, a couch really, and wandered to the bedroom.
It was empty of course.
“Where the hell has she gone?”
An awful wave of emotion broke him completely, as he staggered out. His skeletal hands supporting himself as he retched into the vacant loo.
Collecting himself at last, Charly noticed the missing cat. Scratching his head slowly, he turned and noted the locked door.
“Well,” he muttered. “She obviously did not go out that way.”
 
EP 2.

Charly marched up to the door and raised the latch. He then turned the main key 360 degrees and pulled.
Nothing.
He pulled again.
Still nothing.
With a bemused look upon his face he turned and swiftly marched into the lounge. Pointing a finger at the curtains he said through gritted teeth, “You dare stay closed.”
He reached them easily enough and pulled them open. He staggered back in astonishment.
“I’ve heard of fog, but two floors up? This is ridiculous.”
Charly turned then, and decided that the quicker he found the cat the better.
“Christine?”
To his intense relief, she came bounding towards him. Kneeling as she rubbed against him, Charly said, “At least you are here. My favourite daughter eh? I knew you would not desert me. My only true friend eh?”
He stood and glared at the thick fog bank.
“I know, the damn kitchen...”

EP 3.

He marched into the cooking area and glared through the window. The fog bank remained absolutely solid as he stood there, somewhat perplexed.
“Now calm down,” he muttered to himself. “The front door has probably jammed itself.”
He gazed at the neat pile of dishes as they stood upon the rack and noted the box of wine. Removing a glass from the cupboard, he filled this and drained the glass.
“Just what I don’t need first thing on a Saturday morning.”
He put the glass down and sauntered back into the lounge where the cat was waiting patiently.
“I really don’t know love,” he said slowly. “Certainly something peculiar going on.”
Charly was about to sit upon his favourite armchair when a loud crack from the bedroom whirled him around.
“If that’s the damn ghost again she can get stuffed.”
He entered the short hall and thrust the door open. As he walked inside the empty room, his eyes scanned for movement.
“I know you are in here my dear. I’m really not deaf you know.”
As he scanned again, a swirling black cloud began to appear below the window and Charly stood his ground.
 
Ep 4.

“That won’t scare me off,” he said defiantly. “You are not welcome here.”
As the cloud grew in size, he dashed into the lounge and took down the rosary which had hung over the kitchen door for years.
Gripping it tightly, he entered the bedroom where the cloud had now assumed a human shape.
Charly thrust the crucifix out and said calmly, “Creature of evil, I banish you in the name of the Lord.”
He waited, expecting the apparition to fade. However, it remained solid as the definition grew stronger. As Charly watched, two cloven feet appeared and shortly after a hair encrusted body.
“Oh you must be joking,” he said as the face became fully visible at last.
Two beady eyes stared out from a goat’s face, and two white horns protruded from the crown.
“You can go back from whence you bloody well came,” Charly said as a handful of talons swept the crucifix from his fingers.
“It is not I who is about to leave,” the monstrosity said in a bloodcurdling voice.
The talons clamped his shoulders in a vice, and the two figures promptly vanished.
Within the lounge, the cat cried bitterly.

Ep 5.

When Charly opened his eyes, he was no longer in the warm lounge. As a matter of fact, he rapidly became horrified.
His frantic eyes noted the bonds around his hands and feet, and the mouth pad prevented him from screaming.
A thought passed through his desperate mind.
‘Where have my clothes gone?’
All around were baking hot rocks and his brow dripped with fear induced sweat. As if this was not bad enough, the bathtub looked a little incongruous in this weird setting.
The horned demon was gone, he was sure of that.
He saw the wall parting and two, very naked females strutted out. One of them carried a large wicker basket which looked rather on the heavy side.
When they reached him, this basket was upturned, and writhing, hissing vipers fell onto him.
For Charly this was his worst nightmare. The only problem was, it was far too real. As he struggled fruitlessly, the serpents writhed over his body, fangs biting at his naked flesh.
He felt the mouth pad being ripped off and one of the females forcing his mouth open. As his eyes darted left and right, a viper slithered up his neck and across his tremblinh cheek.
He moaned in horror, as this creature forced itself into his mouth and down his exposed throat. A violent choking sensation followed, as the snake tore itself through the food pipe.

Ep 6.

As rivers of blood spewed into the bath and the mass of vipers, the snakes seemed to become invigorated. Despite the wound, Charly was very much alive, very much in screaming agony.
A snake opened its mouth and tore his manhood to shreds. Another struck at fingers, while a third drilled its head inside his ear. His terrified eyes saw two snakes upon his cheeks, then saw no more as they smashed through the fragile membrane.
In the induced darkness, he felt everything. The pain and the lack of air. He felt as though he was about to explode when his sight returned once more.
The bonds were gone, along with the bathtub.
“Thank God for that,” he gasped taking in the scene.
As far as the eye could see, a golden beach stretched before him. Nearby, two nude females beckoned with upright fingers. Charly glanced down and muttered, “It’s still there.”
A little happier now, he strolled towards them as they made lewd suggestions. This was one of those occasions that every hot-blooded male dreams off.
At least for the moment.
As he reached them, a little hot beneath the flesh, the dark haired one pulled him down between them.
“Come on girls,” he said. “Time to play.”
They however remained silent, as he glanced over them with a little suspicion. Then he saw it...

Ep 7.

Along the midriff, the human appearance ended. Small white teeth slowly ground together, waiting for the obvious meal. Charly’s eyes opened wide and he scrambled back.
One of the women grabbed his foot, and he rolled onto his chest, fingers raking across the surface of the sand.
“Will someone help!” he screamed as claws slashed across the manly buttocks.
His fingers unearthed a long piece of flotsam and he pulled it free. Kicking wildly now, he broke free and scrambled to his feet.
“See how you like this.”
He swung the dark wood at the harpies heads, connecting perfectly. As the first keeled over he swung again, and in a frenzy reduced the skulls to a bloody pulp.
Charly dropped the make do weapon and dashed off across the sand in the direction of a rocky outcrop. He was frantic with worry as he reached it.
“What kind of place is this?”
Breathing heavily, he glanced ahead and saw the impossible.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Just a little further, a tall clock tower stood buried up to the face. As he approached, he recognised it at once.
“Big Ben eh? What crime did you commit?”
He stood open mouthed, fully aware of the implications.
He saw the hands had stopped at noon, and despite the incongruous setting, the plate glass was unbroken.
Charly glanced across at the calm ocean and was about to walk around the clock, when a young female voice caught his attention.
“Hey you? I’m over here.”
He turned and saw a woman standing at the mouth of a darkened cave. He smiled and ran over.
“Are you eh..?”
“Of course I’m human.”
She stood there, around five foot and dressed in a nurses uniform. Her golden locks gave her a rather attractive look. Charly suddenly felt self conscious and placed his hands strategically.
The woman laughed.
“Small sausage eh? I’m Cynthia.”
They shook hands as he introduced himself.
Behind this twenty year old stood two others. A small boy of around ten, dressed in a school uniform and a middle-aged bloke who looked like a shopkeeper.
“How did you lot get here?”
Cynthia smiled.
“Grabbed by that thing. Just like you I imagine.”
A loud squawking from outside made everyone swing round.

Ep 8.

A weird looking bird with small but useless wings was hopping across the sand toward the sea.
“Those are friendly Charly,” Cynthia said.
Charly pointed to Big Ben.
“How do you explain that being here?”
“It’s not real. You can walk right through it.”
“So what lies beyond?”
“The sand and a field to the left. We were six last week. Then we investigated the field. Now we are three.”
“What took the others?”
“Mines would you believe.”
Charlie pushed through to the rear of the cave, scanning slowly. He spotted a large root and pulled it free.
“What are you going to do with that?” the boy asked.
“Probe mainly,” Charly said. “We are getting out of here now.”
“Across that field?”
He stared hard at Cynthia.
“I don’t fancy staying here much longer. I have a cat at home you know.”
“You will never see it again,” the shopkeeper affirmed.
Charly glared and hissed, “Better to die trying mate!”

Ep 9.

They left the cave mouth together, Charly leading the way toward the standing clock. He felt rather weird walking through the image and was relieved when the beach came back into view.
“There’s that wretched field,” Cynthia pointed out.
Charly gazed toward the left, and saw the innocent looking patch of green.
“We had better tackle it then,” he said with a smile.
They reached the boundary between sand and grass, and Charly knelt down and started probing slowly.
“This patch seems clear,” he muttered.
Moving to the next patch he probed again.
“Everyone remain within my footsteps,” he cautioned.
Slowly but surely, they moved further into the minefield. Charly probed again and hit something hard.
“I think that I’ve found one,” he whispered.
He placed the root at his side and probed with his fingers. Once the surface of the weapon had been exposed, he probed beyond and took the next step.
The movement was slow and relentless but eventually they reached the middle sector. “So far so good,” Cynthia whispered.
Charly gazed ahead as the grass appeared to flicker.
He probed once more and saw it promptly vanish.
“You don’t see that every day,” he said pulling it back.
“What the hell is it?” Cynthia asked.
“It’s certainly not natural,” Charly replied.
“We can’t go back,” the shopkeeper said urgently.
“I don’t intend to,” Charly told him. “Hang on a second.”
He held his breath and poked his head forward. He was amazed to see a river bank just a few paces distant, and beyond that a blackened forest.
He pushed on until his feet were through before standing up. As he looked, the others soon appeared.
“Weird kind of place,” the kid said.
“At least we are free from that damn beach,” the keeper said.
Charly glanced in both directions, trying to decide which way to turn when the kid spotted something very peculiar.
“There is a bloke fishing over there.”
Everyone stared and sure enough, a tallish gent with a goaty beard and tweeds sat to their right with a makeshift rod.
“Hey you!” Charly called dashing toward him.
The fisherman turned and smiled at the new arrivals.
“Where did you lot spring from?”
“You don’t know about the beach?” Cynthia asked.
“Never been there and don’t want to either thanks.”
“Caught anything?” the kid asked.
“Not today.”
Charly introduced himself.
“Mac Southby.”
“That flyer who vanished in twenty-three?” the kid asked.
“So you have heard of me eh?”
“How is that possible?” Cynthia asked.
Charly glanced at her.
“Our abductor is not who he claims to be.”
“I was grabbed from my bunk,” Mac said.
“You have lived here since then?” the keeper asked.
“More or less. I built a lean to not far from here.”
“What’s beyond the burnt forest?” Charly asked.
“No idea. When I arrived it was safer to stay put.”
Mac pulled the carved pole from the bank and wrapped the line around it.
“If you lot follow me, we cab have some moonshine.”
“What’s that?” the kid asked.
“You are far too young mate,” Charly said.
Mac led them along the bank and toward a large wall of bushes.

Ep 10.

“It’s just beyond there.”
Standing on the edge of scrubland stood a low stone construction with a makeshift cooker on the outside.
“I found the stones locally,” Mac pointed out.
“You did well to build that,” Charly said.
“Thanks.
“Nice scrubland,” the keeper said walking toward it.
“I would stay here,” Mac advised.
“Something dangerous over there?” the keeper asked.
“After a hundred yards the ground falls away into a bottomless pit.”
“Sounds rather fun,” Cynthia commented.
“How far does that river go?” Charly asked.
“I have followed it both ways,” Mac replied. “It circles the forest and returns here.”
“Which means the end of the road,” Charly muttered.
“You better explain that,” the keeper said.
“Don’t you see? That damn forest is at the centre of all this. If we really want to get home, we have to reach it.”
Mac shook his head.
“I seem to be better off here. You know that I’ve not aged a day here?”
“He certainly can’t go back,” Cynthia muttered.
Charly turned and gazed toward the river and his projected destination.
“You are probably right. I say that we stay the night and go for it.”
“Sounds good enough to me,” the keeper said.
Mac glanced up at the darkening sky.
“The light is starting to go. My construct should accommodate everyone with a squeeze.”
He led the way inside, crawling slowly forward until he hit the rear wall.
“Why so low?” the kid asked after everyone was safely inside.
“You will find out soon.”
Charly gave Cynthia a warning glance as the night suddenly arrived.
Loud crumping sounds echoed from the night and Mac whispered, “Here it comes.”
“What’s coming?” the kid asked nervously.”
“You two should move further inside,” Mac said.
“That’s good enough for me,” the keeper said.
He started to crawl forward when he suddenly yelled.

Ep 11.

“Something’s got my foot!”
He winced in pain as he struggled frantically.
Mac reached out to grab him but it was too late for that. Before their horrified eyes, the keeper was dragged outside, screaming hysterically.
The kid panicked as he was grabbed by the unseen force.
“We have to help!” Cynthia said.
Mac grabbed her arm.
“Not if you want to live dear.”
The kid vanished into the dark as Charly lay there in mute silence.
“I have never seen it,” Mac admitted. “Only that crumping noise.”
“Does it come from the wood?” Charly asked.
Mac shook his head.
“I believe that it wanders the scrubland. Obviously a carnivore. That is why I built this.”
Beyond the safety of the shelter, the victims had been shredded neatly. Bits of clothes and sinews were scattered around as the creature moved off until the coming of night once more.
Charly woke with a start.
“The morning has come,” Cynthia whispered.
Charly noted the absence of Mac.
“Where is he?”
“Would you believe fishing.”
They crawled outside, stretching in the cool air. There was no sign of the victims, and no prints to indicate the killer.
“Fancy tackling the river now?”
“After last night yes,” Cynthia replied.
They found Mac sitting upon the bank with his legs dangling over the edge. At his left side, a couple of strange looking fish flapped furiously.
“Morning you two,” he said cheerily.
Charly was shocked.
“We lost two and you greet us like that?”
“Can’t grieve for strangers mate.”
“How deep is that river?” Cynthia asked.
“Over twenty foot. My pole can’t reach the bottom.”
Charly glanced at her.
“It really is now or never.”
She nodded grimly.
They said goodbye to the lost airman and followed the river until it bent west. Gazing down Charly said, “It seems to be rather placid. Not much of a current.”
Cynthia stripped to her underwear and hobbled down to the edge. Placing her foot gingerly into the water she said, “It’s warm enough.”
Charly joined her, taking hold of her hand.
“Here’s for nothing.”
They hobbled into the river until it reached their waist. Charlie struck out first and Cynthia quickly followed.
The distance to the far bank was roughly a hundred feet, and it seemed to take no time at all before they clambered out again. Shaking themselves down, they gazed toward the blackened trees.
“Obviously a fire caused this,” Cynthia suggested.
“Certainly looks like it. Come on, home is this way.”
Charly led the way into the dead trees, the soot smothered ground reducing the sound to a whisper.
The blackened trunks closed in around them, and the silence was deafening.
“Seems safe enough,” Cynthia said.
“We don’t know that for sure. I certainly don’t want to be here after sunset.”
Charlie spotted a thick fallen branch as Cynthia stumbled.
“Damn.”
“Just be ruddy careful.”
Reaching the trunk, Charlie wiped the soot off and sniffed.
“Carbonised. No sign of an exit.”
“Perhaps there isn’t one. For all we know it’s one way.”
“If you can get in, then you can get out,”Charly said shaking his head.
They walked around the trunk and saw four unharmed trees standing in a small circle.
“Now that is weird,” Cynthia said.
Charly stopped.
“I think we have found the exit my dear. Just let me go first.”
“Don’t you dare mate! I’m not being left behind. We go together or not at all.”
Charly smiled and took her hand.
“The first step is a killer.”
They walked towards the green and leafy trees until they stood at the very centre.
“Nothing seems to be happening.”
“Perhaps it takes time,” Charly suggested.
Moments passed.
“Let’s try something,” he suggested.
He balled his fist and tapped the bark. When nothing happened, he stepped from the circle and into open space.
“Arghh!”

Ep 12.

As he tumbled, he saw the woman right behind him as his gaze shifted towards the approaching ground.
As seconds ticked away, the bright metallic surface hurtled up until he suddenly blacked out.
“Are you okay?” he heard the woman ask as he opened his eyelids slowly.
“I think so. Where are we now?”
“A metallic nightmare.”
He sat up and scanned their surroundings. The floors and walls were obviously metal in appearance, and overhead, the shaft rose skyward.
“We can’t get back,” she informed him.
Charly stood and saw the corridor stretching ahead.
“On we go then.”
He led the way slowly along it, keeping his eyes wide just in case something appeared. The floor seemed to be descending and a door appeared at the far end.
“Hopefully we are here,” he muttered.
“Hold it a second,” she said.
“We have to go through that door,” he reminded her.
“I don’t doubt it. The problem is what’s on the other side?”
Charly winked.
“If you allow me to open it we will both find out.”
“Not on your life. We seem to be missing something.”
“The obvious you mean?”
“Exactly,” she said. “We are kidnapped then dumped God knows where. We meet a long lost flier before falling down a mineshaft that was well hidden. Then there is Big Ben, half buried upon the beach.”
“What’s your point?”
“Illusions Charly. I am starting to wonder how much of this is real.”
He thought for a moment. Stepping away from the door, he pointed to his chin.
“Punch me.”
She giggled.
“I can’t do that.”
“You need proof of reality, so do it quickly.”
She shrugged her shoulders and slapped him instead. He crashed against the door, rubbing his jaw.
“Did that hurt?”
“You bet it did, Now we open the door...Yes?”
She nodded, wondering what lay beyond it in this crazy environment.
He opened the door and peeked inside. He was astonished to see green pipes running across the walls and three glass tubes standing at the centre. The tubes were filled with a light green fluid and contained human specimens.
Walking inside gingerly, they gazed upon the familiar figures sleeping within.
“It’s us,” Cynthia muttered.
They approached slowly, noting Mac sleeping within the third tube.
“I wonder who is real,” she asked. “Them or us?”
Charly scratched his head.
“At least we know now.”
A deep voice forced them to spin around.
“You!” Charly shouted at the horned demon.
“No violence please,” it replied.
“You better explain right now,” Cynthia suggested calmly.
“I am a simple scientist conducting stress tests.”
“We are not on Earth then?” Charly asked.
The demon shook it’s head.
“This is Dorian.”
“What about those we lost?” Cynthia asked. “That kid and the keeper for starters.”
“No one died,” the scientist replied. “They were created from the cerebral cortex after gentle stimulation.”
“Mac is real enough!” Charly shouted.
“He has accepted the situation, unlike you Charly.”
“What do you mean by that?” Cynthia asked.
“By coming here, the test has been ruined. You both know the truth.”
“So you are sending us home?”
The scientist nodded.
“A simple addition of a chemical will create the necessary reaction. You will be transferred to your own world.”
They watched as the scientist wandered toward the tubes and tapped them thrice.
“That should do it.”
“I’ll tell people about this damn place,” Charly hissed.
The scientist turned with a sad look upon his face.
“Who will believe you?”
Charlie suddenly found himself standing inside the empty bedroom, staring toward the window. He slapped himself twice before dashing toward the lounge.
As he entered, the loving cat meowed loudly.
Charly knelt upon the floor and stroked his only true friend.
“You would not believe what happened to me today.”
He saw the laptop and a sudden thought flashed through his fertile mind.
“No one will believe me eh? I’ll flash it across Twitter!”
He sat and activated his device, and told his story to his followers, and to the world...Finis..

Call Me Not

My phone went off today,
trilling a shrill alarm
which I ignored.
It trilled again.

I sat watching the
face light up.
Smiling at the frustration
of the caller.

Wondering who so
desperately wanted to
speak to me.
It rang once more.

I gazed at the clock,
just after two.
Strange time to call really.
I heard it ring again.

Just as loudly.

For ten minutes it rang.
I sighed and moved to
pick it up.
My fingers failed to connect.

I watched them move through
the solid casing and stepped back.
I scratched my head and heard
the door go.

I entered the hall and saw
a box being carried inside.
Not a musical box though.
This was an coffin.

I saw the familiar name plate and
reeled in utter shock.
This was my box, my body.
My funeral.

The phone still rang of course
until someone picked it up.
“Hello?”
“I’ll be late.”

Just that short reply.
My partner’s voice.
I started to fade into nothing.
Just a memory now.
 
Today I Died

When I woke this morning,
I realised that I was dead.
No pulse, no warmth.
Just a feeling of utter cold.

I stared into the mirror,
With no reflection.
I watched and waited.
But no reflection came.

I woke up this morning
Knowing I was dead.

Waiting for compassion.
Waiting for joy.
Waiting for the door to knock.
Waiting for you.

Old Sparky

I sat there as I always have,
biding my time and watching
the guards flutter past in dread.
They always looked away.

I could wait forever if need be.
Wait for my special task in
life to begin again.
Time was nothing really.

I would hear them coming.
The rattling of the chains as
another was brought.
I watched him enter nervously.

He sat as the tie down team did
their work. As the chains were
removed, and the device placed
over his crown.

I waited as he breathed long
and hard. Until the command
was given and I switched on.
Savagely.

He strained as the volts passed
through his body. Muscles locked
up and skin charring quickly.
I enjoyed this bit.

The voltage would stop and
I would hope for another charge.
It came again as sparks flew
from my wooden arms.

The current ceased once more.
The doc confirmed time of death
as the man was carried away.
I waited once more.

Alone in the death house.
Not quite though.
Ghosts and guards wandered past.
I knew that my time would come again.
 
Death Knell

The letter arrived today.
Delivered from the bowels
of hell, by one of Satan’s minions.

Dropped through the
letter box, with a soft
sound of tears.
Or was it laughter?

I opened it of course,
read the contents slowly.
Terrible emotions swept over
my shattering heart.

The dam burst again.
Tears of salt streaming
in an endless flow.
Like so many before.

Torn asunder now.
Ripped to shreds like some
mutilated corpse.
Mutilated by you.

Outside, the air is warm with
spring, and the sky is a
light blue. Birds are singing
happily.

No songs here of course.
Just eternal silence.
The silence that follows
a storm.

The living part of me has
died now.
I am but a corpse.
Dragging on toward eternity.


Satan’s Agent

She was slim and dark
with that evil twinkle in
her cold eyes.

The words that flowed
from her cruel mouth,
could tempt a cone from
the fingers of a babe.

Tall and elegant, she had
lived for centuries.
Reborn each time for one
Purpose only.

To destroy.

Many had fallen under her
evil charms.
Many had paid the ultimate
price.

The price of their eternal soul.
Crushed in that dark maw,
crushed as grapes are crushed.
Crushed to a slimy pulp.

Satan too has his winepress.
Spewing the blood of innocents.
Victims of his favourite assassin.
The soul taker.

She stalks the streets now,
searching out for the foolhardy,
the unwary.
Perhaps looking for you?
 
Horror of memory

Memory can be such a cruel thing.
Lingering long after the actual event.
Lingering like some walking ghost,
doomed never to rest.

Remembering the happy times,
remembering the sad times.
Remembering those times
we would rather forget.

Memory without end it seems.
Lurking through the dense
swirl of time.
Forever present.

Rising like the dead to
strike when you least
expect it.
Waiting until your guard is down.

You sleep, but memory lives on.
Like a being with its own passion,
its own life.
You wake in a clammy sweat.

The memory recedes now,
As you waken to another day.
To another illusion of reality.
Reality created by your dreams.
 
I Miss Mummy
By
Jerrix the Cat

I cried today because your bedroom
door was closed.
I cried and clawed at the door,
but daddy refused to open it.

I padded across the hall carpet,
glancing back as daddy worked hard.
Too hard really.
I turned and entered the rear bedroom.

Where mummy used to play music.
Where mummy used to write and phone
while daddy worked hard in the lounge.
Mummy has gone now.

I can still smell her scent
upon that chair.
I sleep upon the headrest
as I used to do.

That chair sits empty now.
Empty and alone.
I yawn and gaze around at the
bears, the cats.

Daddy’s calling now.
Teatime again.
Dreamy time.
I miss my mummy still.

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