“I think,” said Omally, “that Jim and I had best away. Leave you to your work.”
The Professor did not dignify the remark with a reply. He flipped down the sides of the case, exposing a cluster of mysterious accoutrements, bottles, flasks, crystals, strange indefinable objects. Blowing on to his fingers, he withdrew something that resembled a folded table-cloth. This he shook out before him. The thing was dark, characterized by a circle enclosing a pentagram, the whole wrought with cabalistic symbols. The Professor laid the cloth before him and stroked out its creases, mouthing certain words and phrases. He stepped into the circle, which was only of sufficient size to enclose himself alone. “Hand me the case, John, do not cross the line of the circle.” Omally did so. “And now withdraw.” Pooley and Omally did so, at the hurry-up. They retreated to what they considered a safe distance and squatted amongst the bushes. An owl asked who, but Jim did not reply. “And now …” Professor Slocombe delved into the case and laid about him a strange collection of articles: a lamp, which he lighted, a rock of a colour yet uncatalogued, a silver dish into which he decanted a dark liquid which solidified on the instant of contact, an emerald sphere and certain small caskets which seemed to tremble, as if containing living forms.
John drew Pooley back into the darkness, powerful magic was at work here. “I can’t be having with this,” whispered Jim, “it is all most unfair.”
And now the Professor stood up in the circle and raised his arms to the four cardinal points. For the second time in a single night the two men heard the words of power called forth: “SHADDAI EL CHAI ARARITA ADONAI TETRAGRAMMATON.” About the Professor the lamplight seemed contained, it ceased to reach beyond the boundaries of the circle, all else was lost in darkness.
Omally crossed himself and began the Hail Mary. Jim crossed his fingers and said, “Feinites.”
The ancient magician exhorted the ancient gods, those who were at one with the elements. The words flew from his mouth in rapid, well-practised succession, never faltering, each falling upon the last as part of a stream of consciousness, of understanding.
It was old magic, old and tried and proven beyond the possibility of error or doubt. And the two men who looked on in wonderment knew, knew that those things the Professor understood, that the world he inhabited, was not their own.
Many things passeth understanding and knowledge is given only unto the few.
“OMNE AUM AMEN AMOUN.” Professor Slocombe slumped into the circle, worn, wasted and silent.
John and Jim rushed immediately to his assistance. John cradled the old white head and pressed his hip flask to the parched lips. “Professor,” he said, “are you all right? Speak, speak.” The old eyes opened, the lips moved, John withdrew his flask and drained away the final measure.
“There is nothing more,” said Professor Slocombe, his voice coming as from a great distance. “Nothing, it is gone, we are safe.”
25
“I have called this meeting,” said Jennifer Naylor, “to clarify procedure, assuage doubts and re-establish co-ordination.” The council members received her words without conviction, each in their own manner, each with their own assimilation of “the facts” as they saw them. “Rumour runs rife, truth is as ever its victim.”
“How prettily said.” The words belonged to Mavis Peake. “Concern, however, exists regarding the bomb attack upon one of the sites and the talk of mass murder upon another.”
“Mass murder indeed,” Jennifer laughed. “You are letting your imagination run riot, dear.”
“Don’t patronize me.” Mavis smoothed down her vertical blouse. “My brother is a constable on the Brentford force, he told me that he spent half the night on Griffin Island, a blood bath he said.”
Jennifer Naylor made a note in her Filofax. “And your brother is prepared to swear this in court?”
“He isn’t going to get the opportunity, there is a cover-up, a conspiracy of silence, this new inspector “A conspiracy,” said Jennifer. “The masons, is it, or the illuminati?”
“I will not be held to ridicule, I know what I know.”
“You know nothing but hearsay. There was a small chemical fire upon the Cider Island Site. As to mass murder, who were the victims? Where are the bodies?”
Mavis sat down, speechless with rage. Major Mac-Fadeyen lurched up from his seat. “Madam,” said he, “the facts of the case are evidently being suppressed, but do not think to pull the wool over our eyes. Brentford is a small borough, one man sneezes and we all catch a cold.”
“How colourfully put,” said Jennifer.
“Since the outset of this … this business,” the Major fumed on, “you, madam, have been in possession of facts otherwise denied to us. Things are going on here and by God I will get to the bottom of them!” He sat down, life-readings fluttering into the red.
“Does anyone have anything factual to recount?” Jennifer asked. “Hearsay and conjecture have yet to prove themselves a reliable basis for informed opinion.”
Paul Geronimo raised his “howing” palm. “Squaw utter brave words, but bravery alone insufficient to carry battle when greatly outnumbered by enemy.”
Barry nodded in agreement. “Buffalo bullshit not always baffle brains,” said he.
“You may scoff at speculation,” said Philip Cameron, “but it exists none the less. Factions are forming, the rule of the mob becomes imminent. Doubts are being expressed. If you cannot quell ours to any satisfaction what chance do you have with the plebs?”
“That is exactly why I have called this meeting. We do not want dissenters, violence and uproar in the streets. We have been given the opportunity to host the next Olympic games. Do you not realize our responsibility, the importance of all this?”
“That is all well and good,” said Philip. “We are all well aware of the benefits to the borough. But incidents have occurred. If you do not choose to confide in us then you must bear the full responsibility.” Jennifer turned her devastating gaze upon him, but for the first time it failed to devastate to any visible extent. “Listen,” Philip continued, “you believe absolutely in this project, we would be happy to, but anomalies exist. If you can clear these up to any satisfaction, perhaps we could share your optimism also.”
Jennifer seated herself. “I will answer whatever questions I can.”
Philip gazed about at his associates, their faces egged him on. “All right,” said he. “Firstly, who is financing the games?”
Jennifer shook her head. “In truth, I do not know.”
“Then I have no further questions to ask. It is clear from the outset that you are not prepared to furnish answers.”
“I hold that this meeting is in disorder,” quoth Major MacFadeyen. “In fact, I press for an extraordinary general meeting to re-elect governing bodies and re-establish a respectable colloquium.”
“I second this motion,” said Mavis Peake.
“Gentlemen and lady,” said Jennifer. “There is nothing to be gained from such indecorum. As chairperson I reject the motion proposed. I have on my agenda several new proposals that I wish to have resolved. If I am opposed then I shall declare this meeting out of order and may possibly be forced to call each of its members before a board of my own choosing to discuss whether they be deemed suitable to continue in their offices or whether their replacement be considered necessary.” Amidst general uproar she raised her hand. “Anyone who feels that I am over-exceeding my authority has but to consult council doctrine. Under section five, subsection fifteen, paragraph seven, ‘the chairperson is empowered, during times of special circumstance to call for re-election any member of the council who performs an act or acts which are considered by he or she, in the body of the chairperson, detrimental to the public good, or welfare, inasmuch that …’”