Strange Eons (19 page)

“Lovecraft’s city may be here, under the plateau he called Leng. The unexplored region of Australia he describes in
The Shadow out of Time
may offer up its secrets. As to the aliens he describes—in the light of unexplained but verified UFO sightings we’ve had access to, we can no longer dismiss the possibility of their presence, either in the remote past or today.”

A pudgy little man whom Kay could only describe as thick—in form, features, and accent—shook his head impatiently from his seat across the table. “But Herr Lovecraft nowhere speaks of spaceships,” he muttered.

“Not directly, perhaps,” the tall man said. “Still one must consider the implications.” He turned to point at the map behind him. “The enormous so-called meteorite, which theoretically exploded near the Stony Tunguska River on the Siberian plateau in 1908, left no crater at its impact site and no traces of the fallen object itself were ever found. More recent investigation tends to confirm the theory that some sort of atomic-powered spacecraft may have exploded directly overhead when entering the friction of our atmosphere at high speed. Lovecraft himself used a meteorite as a possible vehicle for an alien life-form in
The Colour out of Space,
but perhaps he was purposely attempting to disguise what he knew. Other extraterrestrial creatures are represented in his stories as flying to earth on membranous wings, their bodies impervious to the hazards of outer space, their minds sealed off for infinite light-years during the journey—surviving because of a different subjective time-sense, alien-structured physiological patterns, and a tremendously lengthy life span.

“But there are other ways to account for interstellar or intergalactic journeying, and Lovecraft didn’t neglect them. He wrote about gateways between dimensions and of passages for returning to this dimension in other areas of space or time. The current constructs in astrophysics—black holes, white holes, antigravity and antimatter—were apparently anticipated in his work.

“And maybe he wasn’t anticipating. His story,
The Dreams in the Witch-House,
links modern science to ancient witchcraft, suggesting that certain spells and incantations actually embody mathematical principles to bring about temporal and spatial interchanges. In other words, the alien life-forms once regarded as demons would be summoned, not from hell but from outer space, other dimensions, other points in time, by means of spoken rituals designed to alter the vibrational frequency and structure of matter and its interrelationships.

“Some of you here have done advanced work on field theory in this regard. Others have investigated parapsychological phenomena—even so-called black magic—which leads to the same conclusion.

“Through certain sources we were able to set up an exchange of information with the Soviet laboratories engaged in the same research, and their findings correspond to ours.

“So much for the scientific aspect of Project Arkham. If that was all we had to consider we might shrug it off as irrelevant. And, in passing, pay our respects to the intuitional brilliance of Lovecraft—that most aptly named of all writers.

“Unfortunately, there’s another angle we’ve pursued with our own people; one which involves the military, political and geophysical disasters that threaten us in real life, today.”

Ignoring the murmured response from his audience, the tall man picked up a sheaf of notes from the tabletop and turned to the map behind him.

“What I tell you now is classified information. Only a small portion of it has been reported in the news media during recent months, and in such instances the actual details were suppressed or glossed over. In many cases these details were not apparent until we investigated. Fortunately, no outside agency or observer has yet found the common connection between them all; it remained for us to establish the links.”

His bony forefinger jabbed at various points on the map as he spoke.

“Item—terrorist activity.” He read from his notes. “The assassination of Fuentes in Argentina on July 9th, of the Shah of Iran on the 23rd, the unsolved disappearance of the leaders of three African republics between July 15th and 27th. In August, the attempt on the life of the French Minister of Justice on the 1st, the apparent death by drowning of the putative heir to the Spanish throne on the 10th, the allegedly accidental death of two members of the Politburo on the 18th. The plane crash that wiped out the lives of five United Nations delegates from the so-called Arab oil countries on September 2nd, the September 11th report of the sudden death of China’s Number Two man in the Peking government, the assassination of Hoffman in West Germany on the 25th and of Salvador’s president on the 29th. The murder of India’s Conservative Party leader the week following, the supposed suicide of our own Senator Portright on October 8th—”

He paused as voices rose around him, then turned and rapped once more for order.

“I could go on, but I think these examples are sufficient. Apparent suicides, alleged accidents, unexplained disappearances, unsolved murders and outright assassination attempts. In only four of the latter instances were the perpetrators apprehended. Three were shot down on the spot and the fourth killed himself before he could be questioned. None were definitely identified, and no terrorist group has come forward to claim credit or responsibility for the crimes. The death of world leaders and persons in key governmental positions remains a mystery.”

Kay glanced at Mike as the tall man moved to the map once again. Mike nodded, then directed his attention to the speaker.

“Item—the South Pacific. Volcanic activity reported or observed during the past several months in the area between the Equator and south latitude 46°, west longitude 131° to roughly 150°. I’ll spare you the dates and cite only a few major instances, for seismic disruptions occurred somewhere within these perimeters on an almost daily basis. A major quake, followed by unprecedented
tsunamis,
inundated the so-called Gilbert and Ellice Island group. Similar disturbance led to the Manihiki disaster and set off a chain of major destruction in the Celebes area, Ceram, Timor and Tuamoto. Renewed tremblor and
tsunami
activity wiped out every man-made structure on Easter Island last week, tumbled every standing statue, and left no known survivors. This latter has not been publicly revealed—nor has the typhoon that hit Pitcairn two days ago. Early reports from rescue mission flights have, and will be, suppressed. Over half of the population is dead, and the remainder either seriously injured or in a state of trauma, which one medical officer equates with acute paranoid schizophrenia.

“Accompanying these phenomena during the same two-month period are other classified instances involving the disappearance of light planes, fishing boats, motor launches, and cargo vessels. Our present information is incomplete, but we have reports on no less than seventy-nine such occurrences.”

One of the gray-haired women at the table looked up quickly. “The Bermuda Triangle!” she said.

The tall man shook his head. “I’m talking about the same Pacific area in which the quakes occurred. Of course the Caribbean could be one of their secret lairs too.”

“Lairs?” A mustached elderly man frowned at the speaker, his eyes narrowing.

“I use the term advisedly. The Caribbean, Antarctica, the northern Siberian plateau, the Himalayas, underground caverns in our own state of Maine—Lovecraft hinted or specifically wrote about them all. But his main concern, and ours, is the South Pacific. The area he identified most precisely in
The Call of Cthulhu.”

“You’re evading my question.” The mustached man was on his feet now, glaring. “These lairs you speak of—‘advisedly,’ as you put it. What about them? Are we to presume you believe they are actually inhabited? And if so, by what? Aliens? Extraterrestrials? The monstrosities that Lovecraft wrote about in his stories? You say his main concern, and yours, is the South Pacific. All right, let me put it to you straight and you can give me a straight answer. Are you saying that Cthulhu really exists?”

There was a moment of shocked silence; all eyes were on the speaker as he met the gaze of his challenger.

“We don’t know,” he said. “But that’s why you’re here, all of you. Because we’ve got to find out.”

Suddenly the room seemed icy cold. Kay felt herself shivering; the shimmering effect began, and everything wavered as though seen underwater—far underwater, where the feasting fish fastened on the corrupt corpse flesh, then fled before the coming of creatures neither fish nor men; they in turn circled and slithered off as the waters churned and the sea floor shattered before the coming of Great Cthulhu—

She fought to focus her eyes and attention on the tall man as he continued.

“I brought you here because I need your reactions, your evaluations, additional data that you may have previously ignored, but which may have a bearing on the problem now that you understand its scope. I need your
expertise,
your cooperation, your help—and I need it now.

“Every one of you has been given a liaison officer and security protection. You have been individually assigned to custody situations throughout this area. For the time being I ask you to respect this arrangement. A few of you already know some of your companions because of previous professional contacts in the course of mutual research. But please do not identify yourselves to anyone else here at this briefing; do not fraternize or compare notes.

“I have scheduled separate interviews for all those present over the next forty-eight hours, and your liaison will be informed of the time assigned you. When we meet privately I trust you’ll each be prepared to answer further questions in depth and offer any suggestions or additional data you believe will be of help. At such a time you may be asked to continue working alone, or in some cases, to join forces with others here. In the latter instance, the necessary introductions will be made then.

“This much I can tell you now. Whatever the nature of your particular professional function, its requirements have been anticipated. We have set aside the funds, the manpower and the physical equipment, and will supply whatever is needed to carry on your efforts. The entire resources of this government are at your disposal.

“Now I’m going to ask you to return to your separate quarters and await further instructions. I think you’ve heard enough to understand the reasons for these precautions, the necessity for secrecy, and the urgency of our concern.

“Let me leave you with this final thought. What we know is called science. What we do not know is called magic. And what we must determine, in order to survive, is whether or not these two are actually one and the same.”

Twenty-four hours later the tall man came to Mike’s apartment for a private interview with Kay.

She still hadn’t learned his name, and even now there were no introductions, though his manner was friendly and direct. Pulling a pipe from his pocket he settled in a wing chair, nodding at Kay and his host.

“Everything under control? Good enough. I know this arrangement’s been awkward for you both, but it’s important we keep a low profile.” He smiled at Kay. “Putting you into a hotel would have raised a few problems—the minute anyone checks in with a security guard detail, word is bound to leak out.”

“I understand,” Kay said.

“Then let’s get down to business. You’ve been of great help to us, Mrs. Keith. From what we’ve been able to check out through your testimony, we’re now satisfied that your ex-husband and his friend Waverly played the role of innocent bystanders in this affair. At least I can set your mind at rest on that point. What few indications we have seem to show that they got involved through accidental circumstances and were eliminated before they learned too much.”

“Are you telling me that Nye killed them?”

The tall man lit his pipe. “We have reports on his whereabouts and activities during much of this period—enough to satisfy us that he was neither in Boston nor the South Pacific at the time they disappeared. But it’s reasonable to assume he gave the orders to dispose of them.”

“What could they possibly have known?”

“I have no firm answers. But we suspect Waverly went to Boston to investigate something concerning Lovecraft. And that made him a potential threat to Nye.

“As for your late husband, his trip to the South Pacific indicates that he knew or guessed a great deal more about the cult. We now think he may have actually been searching for R’lyeh itself. And that he was destroyed when he found it—just as Lovecraft’s characters were destroyed when they found similar lairs in his stories. I refer you to
Dagon,
and
The Temple.”

“I still can’t accept it,” Kay said. “Even knowing what happened to me.”

“Then consider my position.” The tall man puffed on his pipe. “How do you think I feel, standing up in front of hard-headed scientists and military personnel and admitting the realistic basis of black magic? Not just admitting, by God, but
insisting
that they believe?”

“And they do,” Mike murmured. “Because of their own experiences.”

“That’s just it.” The tall man nodded. “Everything ties together. And Nyarlathotep holds all the strings.”

Kay remembered her earlier conversation with Mike. “Do you really think Nye is Nyarlathotep?”

“Consider the facts.” The tall man tapped the residue from his pipe into an ashtray. “According to Lovecraft, Nyarlathotep is black, and the prophecy says he will come out of Egypt. We don’t know Nye’s origins, but we can’t rule out that possibility. We do know he fits most of the description; red robes, strange devices and all, preaching the end of the world to people who come away not quite understanding what they’ve heard.”

“So he created himself in the image of what he’s read.”

“That’s the obvious conclusion, and I wish I could go along with it. But what about the rest of the circumstances—earthquakes, tidal waves, all these sudden natural disasters combined with manmade disasters in the form of worldwide terrorist activity? It could be coincidence, of course, but it certainly sounds like Lovecraft’s description of what will happen when the Mighty Messenger appears.”