Twincy Quinn and the Eye of Horus Part One (7 page)

He kept on
repeating her name, and she just stood there, half crying, though
not as ferociously as her father.

By now the
other Bobbies in the house and outside on the street had become
aware of what was happening. Behind me I could hear them descending
the stairs and then marching along the corridor.

Managing to
wrench my gaze from the child and her father, I turned to them and
offered a nod.

That was it.
For I could not offer an explanation. I had no idea how the child
had just walked in through the front door. Well, that was not fair;
I understood perfectly the mechanics involved in walking oneself up
a set of stairs, down a corridor and into the library. What I
didn't understand was how on earth she had escaped from her
kidnappers.

I attempted to
maintain a respectful distance for as long as I could, however when
it seemed the father had regained enough composure to let go of his
child, I cleared my throat. I was still hovering near the doorway,
barely one step inside the room, my hands clamped behind my back,
my jaw shifting back and forth as I tried not to stare too
hard.

‘
My God, Detective,’ the father finally looked my way, and it
was with an expression of complete adulation and thanksgiving, ‘I
cannot begin to thank you enough.’

I shook my
head sharply to the side. ‘I have done nothing, sir; your daughter
walked in off the street of her own accord.’

The father’s
expression faltered. As it did, his brow crumpled over his eyes in
a tight move. ‘Jennifer,’ he still had a hand clamped on her
shoulder, and I watched as his fingers twitched tighter, his thumb
slipping off the pale-pink lace of her nightgown, ‘what happened,
where have you been?’

Jennifer had
wide-open eyes, and she glanced at her father with a fixed, clearly
frightened look. Several seconds later, she flicked her gaze over
to me, then flicked it down to the floor.

Jennifer?’ her
father demanded again, a note of obvious insistence tightening
through his words.

‘
They came in through the window,’ she managed. Though her
voice was quiet, and her words hardly discernible, the effect of it
was like a spider inching slowly up my back. I even gave a shake of
my shoulders, clamping down hard on my jaw, trying to pull myself
together.

I took a step
forward. Placing a hand on the back of the leather couch, I cleared
my throat again, and nodded low at the father. ‘Who are they?’

Jennifer shook
her head. It was a frantic move, and though a single tear trickled
down her cheek, she wiped it away, and no more followed. ‘Black and
white,’ she answered mysteriously.

I waited in
perfect, absolute silence for her to add to that bizarre statement.
She didn't.

‘
Black and white?’ I prompted with a dry, suddenly sore
throat.

‘
They were black and white,’ she clarified, hardly advancing
the conversation. Yet again, the way she spoke served to send
shivers escaping over my shoulders and deep into my
stomach.

‘
Jennifer, what the deuce are you speaking of?’ The father now
brought both his hands up again, pressing them into her shoulders,
and concentrating her attention by dipping his head low, and
bringing his concerned gaze close.

She took a
dramatic swallow. ‘I didn't see them, just a flash in the light
from the open window. Black and white,’ she repeated in a staccato
voice.

Realising I
had to pull myself together and take control of this conversation,
I finally walked out from behind the couch. ‘What do you mean by
black and white? Were they wearing black clothes?’

She shook her
head, and for the first time she regarded me long enough that I
could gauge just how frightened and terrified her gaze was. Yet at
the same time she still was not crying.

Curious.

A child in her
position, by my estimation, should be nothing but an emotional
wreck.

‘
I must call for the doctor at once,’ the father suddenly shook
his head sharply to the side, ‘I request that you do not speak to
my dear daughter until we have a medical professional attend to
her.’

I gave the
father a brief look, quickly returning my attention to Jennifer. I
wanted to note every single one of her expressions, every reaction
she had to what was going on in the room. ‘No,’ I finally
added.

‘
Detective,’ the father began, indignation trilling through his
tone, ‘this is my house.’

‘
33,’ I said the number as I returned my gaze to him, narrowing
my eyes as I did, ‘that is the number of children that have been
kidnapped. I need to find out everything I can as quickly as I can.
You can call for the doctor, and then you can return to the room,
but I need to question Jennifer now.’

Though the
father did not look happy, he conceded my point with a curt nod
nonetheless. He left the room briefly, spoke to his butler, and
then returned. His face was white with fear, yet at the same time
exuberance. He had his child back, and I desperately needed to find
out why.

To Jennifer’s
credit, she did not immediately fall into a fitful state, and
neither did she beg her father to be excused from the room. Instead
she stared at my shoes, then my knees, then finally my eyes. Taking
a step backwards, she brought her hands up, and ran her thumbs
feverishly over her fingers. ‘I don't remember much. They came into
my room. I heard the window clicking open. It woke me up. Then I
saw them against the light coming in from the window. Black and
white,’ she repeated in that same staccato voice she had used
before. ‘Then they pressed something into my neck,’ as she spoke,
she let her fingers drag over the skin just between her collarbone
and the nape of her neck.

Without having
to take a step forward, I could see two raised, red abrasions. It
made me narrow my eyes in an instant. I had seen wounds like that
before, though not on the living. Many mysterious deaths had been
taking place in London over the past several months, and though I
had not thought of it before, in a way they coincided with the
commencement of these strange kidnappings.

‘
What monsters,’ the father roared.

I brought a
hand up, though I did not thrust it in front of the father's face,
I spread the fingers wide, and hoped it was a clear sign for the
father to leave Jennifer to speak uninterrupted.

‘
Things went black,’ she managed, now letting her gaze drift
down towards the floor. No doubt locking her eyes on some marked
patch of the leather chair, she ran her top teeth over her bottom
lip before she continued, ‘then they put something over my
head.’

The father
made an angry noise, but thankfully he did not interrupt again.

As Jennifer
spoke, I hardly blinked. It was as if I feared that if I lost
attention for even the minutest fraction of a second, I would miss
some vital clue.

‘
Then . . . ,’ she brought her hand up,
brushing at her hair, ‘I woke up. There were a lot of noises,’ her
brow was crumpled low over her eyes, and she kept on sinking her
teeth deep into her lip as she stared fixedly at the couch. Either
she was emotional or she was having trouble remembering the exact
details of her ordeal, or perhaps both. Still, as I waited for her
to continue, I could not deny the rush of unease and yet
expectation that claimed me. I realised how important her account
was. Though in a way it sounded impossible—two black and white
shapes climbing in her window, knocking her out with some device,
and carrying her off in a sack—I had to suspend all disbelief. The
past several months in this city had taught me that lesson. New
devices. Technology. The wonders of the modern age. Though they
were mostly the creations and brain children of the enigmatic and
eccentric Doctor Elliot Esquire, other scientists and boffins were
also developing new and incredibly powerful devices. Though the
town, in fact the country, and possibly the world, were busy
singing the praises of this new power, it had not taken long for
its effect to filter into the criminal world. My job was becoming
so much harder. The world I had known was changing, far too rapidly
for me to keep up, and far, far too rapidly for a cumbersome police
service to deal with.

‘
Then . . . ,’ Jennifer finally let her
gaze unstick from the couch, and she settled it on me, and in that
moment I swear she composed herself. For a child, she suddenly
swallowed all the fear I had seen crippling her form, and she set
her keen gaze my way, ‘a woman came and saved me. She fought off
the black and white shapes. She stole their carriage, and she took
me home.’

I faltered.
And the father gave a strange, loud huffing sound. ‘Jennifer, you
are confused,’ he shook his head as he spoke.

Though I
should have pleaded with him to keep his silence, I couldn't.
Instead I found my eyes narrowing instinctively.

Though I knew
I had to keep an open mind, considering the rapid rate of change
and the new technology I was dealing
with . . . Jennifer’s story sounded too
fantastic.

Perhaps she saw that neither of us were convinced, because now
she shook her own head, her tousled hair bouncing over her
shoulder. ‘She saved me,’ she repeated, her voice resonating on the
word
she
.

‘
Detective, I say that this can assuredly wait, my child is
clearly confused. She has been through a terrible ordeal,’ the
father now took a solid step forward, clamping one of his hands
protectively on Jennifer’s shoulder. He also fixed me with the kind
of look that told me in no uncertain terms that he was no longer
going to accommodate my wishes.

Tearing my
eyes off Jennifer, I swallowed as I gave a low and respectful nod.
‘I understand,’ taking my watch out and checking it quickly, I
nodded once more to the father, glanced at Jennifer, and turned
sharply on the heel of my shoe. I made it through the door, through
the corridor, and out of the house, hardly taking a breath. Then I
stopped, one foot resting up on the bottom step that led down to
the street below. Bringing my hand forward, I planted it on my
knee, and I tipped my head back, gazing at the roofs across the
street.

I had seen
something, hadn't I? It had been no trick of the light, and neither
had it been an artefact of an addled brain.

Bringing a
hand up and distractedly scratching at my chin, I took the final
step down, all the time angling my head up, and staring at the
rooftop.

A woman
fighting off strange shapes, stealing a carriage, and returning a
child? It was, obviously, fantastic. Perhaps the father was right,
and Jennifer was far too affected by her ordeal to be able to
rationally and clearly recount what had occurred to her. Still, as
I took several steps along the street, always staring at the
rooftops beyond, I couldn't deny the tight feeling that gripped at
my gut. A feeling halfway between nerves and expectation, I quickly
ran a hand through my hair.

All too soon I
took leave of the house, and clambering up onto the roofs above. It
was not easy. First I had to gain permission of the owners of the
building on the opposite side of the street, which turned out to
house several offices. Claiming my rights as a member of Scotland
Yard, I managed to find a maintenance ladder that led from one of
the top windows up onto the roof. Huffing and puffing, and
realising I was certainly not as fit as I had been when I had been
in the army, nonetheless soon I found myself gripping onto the side
of the gutter as I peered up over a sloped section of slate. Beyond
was a relatively flat part nestled in between several chimneys.

I did not know
what I expected to find, nevertheless, I somewhat precariously
clambered my way up to that flat section, then turned around,
planted my hands on my hips, and stared down at the house below. It
was the perfect vantage point to see in through the front door. I
narrowed my eyes, scratched at my head again, then turned on my
foot, and stared out over the cityscape beyond. I recognised some
of the buildings, others were at too strange an angle for me to
figure their identity.

Yet I did
remember something else. Something thoroughly bizarre. Something
that was fresh in my memory, yet had been displaced by this
morning's sad duties and surprises.

The woman from
last night. The one in the simple grey dress. She had plunged out
of an alleyway, running at a fair speed, and had slammed right into
me. It had been with some force; in fact, if I hadn't been able to
shore up my legs quickly, she would have knocked me clean off my
feet.

Stumbling
backwards, she had soon turned on her heel, and had sped off down
the street. With phenomenal speed and agility, I might add. After
attempting to enlist several men to help me stop her, we were
unable to do anything at all. I remember watching in slack-jawed
awe, as she rolled and kicked and ran her way down the alleyway,
and then simply disappeared.

Yes,
disappeared. I would not say into thin air, because though my world
had changed a great deal recently, I still did not believe
technology had advanced to that level yet.

Though it had
been dark in that alley, for a single second, I had fancied she had
jumped her way up the side of the wall and onto the roof. Fantastic
I know. As quickly as it arose in my mind, I had equally quickly
dismissed it—it was plainly impossible. Yet now that memory
transfixed me. With powerful hands it gripped at my attention,
focusing me fully.

And yes, it
made my frown twinge all the deeper as I stared down from my
perfect vantage out over London.

One thing was
for sure. These were strange times. With the rapid rate of
modernity, could I afford to not question anything?