The Four Realms (11 page)

She tried to reason with herself.
 
She was a little old lady, not one of those television detectives who leapt across car bonnets and beat confessions out of people.
 
But what did she have to lose?
 
If the cold didn't take her, old age would.
 
And what had she accomplished in all her years?
 
Opened a door.
 
That was hardly a worthy epitaph.
 
And it looked like the very organisation she was working for, was the one trying to cover this all up.

"I've had enough," she said to herself.
 
She had put up with years of people's nonsense; she was at an age where she didn't have to take it anymore.
 
It was only when the Inquisitor looked up from his notes that she realised that she'd said it aloud.

"Don't worry," he said matter-of-factly.
 
"We're due to do another review next year, and this place only just escaped closure last time.
 
Have you got family you can go live with?"

She wanted to say no, that she'd been too busy married to the job to settle down and have children of her own.
 
What was worse was that the Inquisitor didn't seem to see any offense in saying this.
 
That's all right Maureen, he seemed to suggest.
 
We'll just throw you out on the streets so you can take care of yourself.
 
By the way, thanks for the years of service.

Maureen pursed her lips, and looked out the window.

"Are you planning on going up to London today, Inquisitor?" she said.

"That's why I'm here," he said, not without a trace of sarcasm, Maureen noted.

"Well, I hope you brought a thicker coat than the one you are wearing now.
 
It's a long walk into Guildford, and there's no way the bus is going to be running in this weather."

"Walk?" the Inquisitor said perplexed.

"Oh, haven't you heard, Inquisitor?
 
We're out in the sticks here.
 
Anybody looking to go into London nowadays does so via Luton.
 
Easier transport connections, so I hear."

The Inquisitor got up, putting his briefcase on the chair as he stood, and looked out at the snow.

"Don't they grit the roads, or something?"

"Oh don't be so silly, they won't down here for days.
 
Folks down here are used to coping.
 
Most of them have those big four by fours."

"A hearse?"
 
There was a note of worry in the Inquisitor's voice.

"Oh lordy.
 
You won't be able to get a hearse down that road for a week.
 
It'll just skid off into a ditch."

"A ditch?"

"Road up to Puttenham is very narrow at the best of times.
 
And of course we're in the shade of the Hog's Back here, so it'll take ages for the snow to melt, and then ages for the ice formed from the melted snow to go.
 
Do you know, a couple of years back, we still hadn't got rid of all the snow by April?
 
April!
 
Can you believe it?"

"But I have to get the body back tonight."
 
Maureen took great delight by the way the man almost seemed to squeal.

"Oh dear," she said.
 
"I don't think you'll be doing that."

"But I...
 
But I..." the Inquisitor flustered.
 
He started stuffing papers back into his briefcase.
 
"I'll have to go another way."

"You could always try Luton," Maureen suggested helpfully.

The Inquisitor closed his briefcase but not properly because he'd not gone more than a couple of steps across the living room before it sprung open, the contents flying across the room.
 
Maureen bent down to help but the Inquisitor was already scooping papers up and throwing them unceremoniously back into the briefcase.
 
Safely clasped this time, he picked it up and hurried down the cellar stairs.

There's no use hurrying, Maureen thought to herself whilst fingering the key in her pocket.
 
She deliberately took her time going down the steps.

"Well, it was lovely seeing you, Inquisitor," she said as she ambled over to the door.
 
"Perhaps next time, it won't be such a flying visit?"

The Inquisitor said nothing, instead seeming to hop from foot to foot as if he was in desperate need of the bathroom.
 
Maureen couldn't help but take slight pity on him and decided not to torment him anymore.
 
She unlocked her door and then entered the passage to bang on Joseph's door.
 
She saw the latch go but noted that, as Joseph had said, the door had remained unlocked.

"Finished so soon?" said Joseph with a face of concern.

The Inquisitor said nothing and pushed his way past without as much as a goodbye.
 
Maureen tutted.
 
Manners didn't cost anything.

Joseph watched him storm down the covered walkway before turning back to Maureen.

"Are you all right, Maureen?" he asked worriedly.

Maureen looked up at him and smiled.
 
"Yes, Joseph.
 
I'm fine.
 
Really.
 
Thank you."

Joseph didn't look convinced.

"You just holler if you need anything," he said.

Good old Joseph.
 
Always there if she needed him, just like his father and grandfather before him.
 
She worried how she would cope if she had to leave this place.
 
No, she corrected herself, not if,
when
.
 
The Inquisitor had confirmed it was on the cards, although it was no big shock.
 
She had a year left here, at most.
 
And then what?
 
Where would she go?
 
What would happen to Joseph?
 
This gateway was his job too.
 
She should tell him, give him notice so that at least he had time to maybe look for another job.
 
But what if he found one?
 
That would mean losing him early, and she wasn't sure she could cope with that.
 

So instead she just told him, "I'm just a bit of turmoil at the moment.
 
Pay me no mind.
 
I'll be all right, just want to be on my own for a while.
 
Please don't take any offense by it."

The troll reached out and ruffled her hair with that big three fingered hand of his.
 
"Oh Maureen," he said.
 
"What are we going to do with you?"

She returned his smile and then stepped back to close the door, hearing the latch but not the key turn.
 
What were they going to do with her indeed?
 
She stepped back into her realm, closed her door, locked it and hung up the key before everything hit her at once and she burst into tears.

CHAPTER TEN - A Different Direction

Magellan stared out the windows at the vista beyond.
 
From up here you could see across the whole valley.
 
You might not even know there were Humans here were it not for the tell-tale signs of houses visible under the trees on the far side.

He sighed.
 
How to ruin perfection, stick an ugly house in the middle.

He turned to look at Mr East who was sitting patiently on the living room sofa, sipping at a cup of tea.
 
How false, Mr Magellan thought, probably all West’s fault with his comments on individuality and acting ‘more human’.
 
But why would anyone want to be more human?
 
They called this space a living room but Magellan wanted to spend as little of his life as possible in here.
 
The television had never been switched on, and as for that bookcase, he wasn't even sure what books were in it.
 
A bookcase can tell you a lot about a person, the training programmes had said.
 
Apparently his told him that he liked bird watching.
 
All he knew was that if it wasn't for the fantastic view, Mr Magellan wouldn't ever come into this room.

Mr East seemed different though.
 
Whilst he'd not fully embraced humanity like Mr West, he was acting a little too human for Magellan's liking. Magellan had noticed he'd adopted little things, like the tea he now drank.
 
In Magellan’s mind that made East weak.
 
Their overall mission depended on people like him to ensure distractions didn’t divert them.
 
It clearly had West, though he was sure beyond any doubt that the man’s heresy would only improve his own fate.

He sat down next to East on the sofa, crossed a leg over another, decided he didn't like it and went back to sitting with his legs slightly apart.

"I trust you are enjoying the tea?" he asked.

Mr East nodded.
 
"I have to say that I have acquired a taste for it now. Makes me a little more comfortable in my body."

"And you're finding that all right?"

"It's uncomfortable and restricting, however I have spoken to others who say they find the same.
 
But there is nothing that can be done.
 
It's not like the humans can grow several extra sets of arms."

This was the right attitude to have, Mr Magellan thought.
 
No complaints, no whinging, just a realisation that they had a job to do and needed to get on with it.

"And your future?"

"I'm due for a promotion in four point seven years.
 
I'll be moving out of analysis and into a more supervisory role."

"Excellent, you must be very pleased."

Mr East shrugged.
 
"My fate is whatever the Planners decide."

"A very practical approach.
 
Very sensible."
 
Magellan was surprised by the level-headedness of one so young.

"Well, I knew when I volunteered for this dangerous mission that my fate could get all out of line.
 
Coming into such a chaotic system presents many challenges we could not foresee, and I'm sure the Planners will have to make alterations to my fate to make allowances for this."

Ah
, thought Magellan,
now we come to the point.

"It is truly a different way of living than we are used to.
 
Some are adapting it better than others."

"Some are adapting a little too well," Mr East shot back chirpily.

Excellent
.
 
He had no reason to doubt the work his profilers had done - that was one area for which they'd not had to rewrite their science since coming to this world.

"I take it you do not approve of Mr West's methods then?"

"If I'm honest sir, no, I do not.
 
It is one thing to crave results, to adapt in a chaotic world, but what he does well, it's..."

He stopped.
 
Magellan could see by the way his cup clattered on its saucer that he was shaking.

"Go on, you'll find no criticism of your views from me."

"It's heresy, sir.
 
No two ways about it.
 
And we're willing to give up all we hold true just to win this war?
 
That seems like a very dishonest war to me."

"Mr West would argue that we do not have time."

"I'll give him that our analysis is nowhere near good enough.
 
But we're making progress with the data models every day.
 
The teams, they've hardly slept, sir."

"No-one can fault the data modellers on their dedication and persistence," Magellan agreed.

"But the problem is, you do what West is doing, you're making waves.
 
Big huge waves.
 
As it is, the data modellers are trying to do something akin to trying to find a stick in an ocean.
 
West, he's turned that ocean into a storm."

"I know.
 
When I let him commit heresy I never realised how far he would go."

"He needs to be stopped.
 
Don't get me wrong, he's doing it out of loyalty to our cause.
 
There are few who are quite as patriotic as Mr West, but still...
 
what he is doing is madness."

Magellan sighed.
 
"Stopping him might not be so easy."

"With all due respect, sir, you
are
his commanding officer.
 
Take him to task, reel him back."

Normally Magellan would not take well to such criticisms, especially from someone who reported to him, but he understood East's anger.
 
West was indeed creating waves.
 
Waves so large they were impacting on other operational areas.
 
He couldn’t have his team questioning his actions.
 
West would get what was coming to him, but he had to make sure he didn’t lose respect in the meantime.

"What I really need, Mr East, is evidence.
 
Something concrete I can pin him down on.
 
I do not have the time to go around chasing after him."

Magellan didn't want to smile as he planted the seed of an idea in East's head, but he had to fight his body's urge to do so.

"I could do it for you sir.
 
My own project is halted because of the storm West has kicked up.
 
I'd happily follow him around and collect evidence, if that meant things calmed down.
 
Heck, short of heresy I'd even help him if it meant I could get on with my own projects."

Now Magellan did smile.

"He can't know you're following him.
 
Just stay a good number of hours behind. It shouldn't matter, the evidence will still be there."