CHAPTER 07
Comet P/2018-YG874 wasn’t a big one by any astral mapping standards. Its designate name was Primordia, and it probably originated in the Oort cloud a hundred million years ago.
To date, there are nearly 6,000 known comets in the inner solar system and many billions more in the outer system. Only about one comet per year can be seen with the naked eye, and most are unremarkable.
Primordia had been travelling in an elliptical orbit in a periodic recurrence of every 10 years. It would approach the Earth, pass by it, and then head back to the inner star where it was grabbed again and then flung back out into the solar system for yet another cycle around the 3rd planet from the sun.
Due to the effects of solar radiation, the small body emitted the usual coma and icy tail, giving it the distinctive comet streak. When a comet finally appears to the naked eye, it is called an apparition.
The Primordia apparition was unremarkable, except for one thing — its comet nuclei, or central core, had a significant concentration of iron and other rare minerals that created a significant magnetic distortion on the surrounding solar geography.
The Primordia Earthly cycle had it passing closest to South America, directly over a vast tabletop mountain in Venezuela. It was only observable for a few days, but in that time, strange distortions occurred on the mountaintop — things became rearranged, reordered, pathways created and doorways opened.
In 48 hours, Primordia’s first magnetic wave effects would be felt. And in Eastern Venezuela, the season was once again at its wettest.
CHAPTER 08
Mateo bobbed his head from side to side as he read the data on the bank of screens before him. “Storm gathering, but centered.” He switched to the satellite images. “Very strange; just over the deep eastern jungle.”
Mateo was fresh from university and armed with a degree in meteorological and climate sciences, and he’d never seen anything like what he was looking at; he didn’t even know of a precedent for it in any textbook. There looked to be a small developing hurricane, but coming out of nowhere. It was tiny and centralized. But strangely, staying centralized.
He cursed under his breath as his computer systems refused to give him the data he wanted. The cloudbank swirled and was so dense that it wasn’t allowing any thermal or even geographic readings over the site. Worse, as he watched, the satellite image started to blur over the affected area as if there was a smudge on his screen.
“Hey, boss, this can’t be right. Look.” He rolled his chair backwards and pointed.
Santiago sighed and also rolled his chair backwards. The slightly portly man was Mateo’s superior and had been in the role for over 30 years. He rolled himself closer, took one look, and grunted.
“Yeah; wet season, and this year, the wettest. It’s rare, but it happens.” He rolled back to his own workspace.
“Huh?” Mateo’s frown deepened. “This is unprecedented. It looks like a hurricane, small, but so dense it’s now almost impenetrable.”
Santiago snorted. “Not everything that occurs within the boundaries of what we collectively group under the term weather is in textbooks. Um… ” He reached up to pull a battered old paper folder from a shelf and thumbed through it for a moment before handing it to the young man.
“Here, see, every 10 years, like clockwork, there is a unique phenomenon that happens in these parts. Only during the wettest of wet seasons.” He shrugged. “The conditions manifest over a single area, only remain for a few days, and then just as abruptly, dissipate and then vanish.” He shrugged. “Theories are that it is caused by an upwelling of thermal activity in the area that alters ground heat, and then the associated humidity and air density.”
“Wow.” Mateo grinned. “And we can’t see anything through that cloud?”
“Mmm, yes and no.” Santiago pointed to the folder. “Turn the pages, there, that’s it. We flew a high-altitude plane over the site twenty years back, and used LIDAR to bounce some laser off the area. Those images are what came back.”
Mateo frowned. He knew of LIDAR; they were the Light, Imaging, Detection and Ranging devices that were used to map areas by illuminating them with a laser light, and then reading the reflected pulses with a sensor — they were extremely accurate.
Mateo frowned. “It can see everything, except for this one large tepui in the inaccessible eastern zone — the top, it’s… not there.” He looked up, open-mouthed. “I don’t understand.”
Santiago winked. “A mystery wrapped in a conundrum, hmm?”
Mateo grinned back. “This is why I love this job.”
Santiago chuckled. “And that’s why they call us the bureau of climate guessology — we only know what’s happening some of the time.”
CHAPTER 09
Next morning, 8am sharp, Ben and Emma met Jenny downstairs. Ben still felt like he was going to burst; Margaret had made them toasted muffins, little sausages as long as his thumb, eggs and bacon, plus hot tea. Ben ate most of it, but stopped short on the bacon — it was floppy and undercooked and not crispy like he preferred it. He found out later that this was the way it was usually eaten here — yech.
Jenny led them back into the drawing room, and Steve, Dan, and Andrea soon joined them. They all flopped down into oversized armchairs and couches.
“What’s your plan, Jenn?” Steve asked his friend.
Jenny had a teacup to her lips and seemed to gulp the remaining contents. Ben was amazed at the quantity of tea that these guys put away; it put American coffee drinkers to shame.
Jenny replaced the cup in its matching fine china saucer and smacked her lips. “Our meeting is set to occur in another hour, and one of the reasons I chose Fairstowe was that it’s only 10 minutes from the Manor. Our cover story is that Emma and Ben are considering moving to the area for work, and will be bringing their elderly mother with them. You’ll be wanting help with her, of the highest standard.” She looked at Ben. “She’s 86, has no real health or dietary issues, but is slightly foggy of thinking, okay?”
Ben nodded. “Got it.”
“You drive the conversation. Don’t get bogged down in your details. You ask the questions and get them to show the pair of you around. Even better if once they’ve given you a quick tour, you’re allowed to do a bit of wandering around by yourselves.” She sat back and sighed. “And the million pound question is, looking around for what?”
Ben exhaled slowly through his nose. It was a question he had raked over his memory many times trying to tease out some clue, but came up empty every time.
“All we know is that the author, Arthur Conan Doyle, hid my great, great grandfather’s notebook at Windlesham Manor somewhere on the estate.” He gave her a wry smile. “And he didn’t exactly say where.”
“Good lord.” Jenny’s brows went up. “Do you know how big…?”
“Yes, yes.” Ben looked skyward for a moment. “I know, huge. This might be damn mission impossible.”
Emma sucked in one of her cheeks. “All we know is it’s somewhere under the earth, in a place that only Doyle and his ancestor knew about.”
“Hmm. This is just like Doyle, a man who liked mystery and intrigue.” Jenny’s eyes narrowed. “But this does mean that your ancestor had been here before. We could have used that, but unfortunately, all connection between the Manor and Doyle has now been severed. So we can’t expect them to give you any good graces in relation to the search.” She grimaced and shook her head. “I don’t like your chances.”