First published: 17th September 2022
Status: COMPLETE & PUBLISHED.
Revisions: 3 [last revised December 2021]
Version: Extended - Final.
Published Episode No. 31
Previous episode: "Alexandra and the spies."
Next episode: “Alexandra and the naked Edwardians.”
Angel-in-charge: Margret
Team Assigned: Team 74
Mission: 2 - 409966 - 6 - 1958
OTHER INFORMATION:
Currently none apparent.
SMOKING - ALCOHOL USE - VIOLENCE [INCLUDING SEXUAL VIOLENCE & BDSM] - STRONG LANGUAGE - GRAPHIC HARD SEX REFERENCES INCLUDING PROSTITUTION AND DIVERSE SEXUAL PRACTISES - DRUG REFERENCES - ANTI-RELIGIOUS SENTIMENTS AND OPINIONS - HUMAN TRAFFICKING - COMMENTS AND BEHAVIOUR THAT MAY OFFEND SOME PEOPLE BUT WERE CONSIDERED 'NORMAL' IN THE TIME PERIOD. |
IF YOU ARE BELIEVE YOU MAY BE OFFENDED BY ANYTHING CONTAINED IN THIS WRITTEN WORK, THEN DON'T READ IT AND CLOSE THE PAGE! THANK YOU. |
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1. ‘THE KETTLE CAFE’,
ROYAL ALBERT DOCK, LONDON. Monday July 7th, 1958.
Every head turned and watched Alex walk to the corner table; she was dressed in the height of lady’s fashion for 1958; long skirt with plenty of petticoats, little red jacket with matching shoes and hat. She eased down on the wooden chair and placed her bright red clutch bag on the plastic covered table. Owen slumped in the chair next to her and picked up the small plastic
folder
holding the menu; “May as well have some breakfast before we start.” He said
with real anticipation in his voice. Alex smoothed down her beautiful skirt and
nodded; feeling every eye was on her. The café was packed with Dockers working
the early shift. She was now certainly the
topic of conversation amongst the men.
The place went silent – again – as Jericho and Wilson joined the pair. The old waitress came over and stared at Alex, then Wilson. “What can I get you?” she said loudly and pulled a pencil from behind her ear, the dirty hair obvious to Alex. Owen ordered a full breakfast with extra sausages and eggs, while Wilson just ordered a bacon sandwich. Alex and Jericho only ordered tea and the waitress wandered off, scratching her head with the pencil. The really big docker sitting at the table next to the team chuckled loudly; “Sweet mother O’Reilly, we’ve got toff’s joining us for scoff boys.” The three men with him all laughed. The big rough looking man continued; “I ain’t seen anything that pretty since...well, I just ain’t never seen anything that pretty before. I bet her old man walks around with a bloody big smile on his face!”
The waitress returned and slapped a big plate of breakfast down in front of him and admonished the big man; “Mind your language, Malcolm Jarvis; that’s a real lady, it’s bleeding obvious ain’t it.” Malcolm grinned at Alex; “So sorry your ladyship, but poor old Malcolm is all shook up about the terrible ghosts and ghoulish things creeping about shed 13. So please do forgive him.” The waitress sighed; “The day your scared of bleeding ghosts will be when the Pope gets married!” All the men at the table laughed at that. But Jericho was immediately interested in the big man’s remarks [as were the rest of the team]. He smiled at big Malcolm and asked quietly about the ghostly apparitions in shed 13.
Big Malcolm stared at him, looking puzzled; “It’s just a ghost mate; nobody’s seen any bleeding French cars around the place.” Jericho ran a hand over his face and asked again, just about the ghosts this time. Malcolm sat back and smiled at him; “You want to speak to weird Willy over there mate; he and Freddie saw the bloody things walk through a window and disappear. He’ll tell you all about it for a cup of tea.” All the men laughed and returned to their breakfasts. The team stared at the nervous young man sitting by himself at a small table by the door to the toilet. He wore a cheap suit and looked like he didn’t know what a proper meal was. He was in his early twenties, and he sat gripping his cup of tea with both hands; he managed to smile at the team.
Jericho nodded to Owen who turned and spoke to ‘weird Willy’ and invited him to join their table and recount his story. Willy shook his head and stared at the floor. Alex leaned over Owen and asked Willy – with a really big smile – to tell his story; she was very interested to hear it. Willy hesitated, then almost smiled and dragged his chair over. Jericho couldn’t hide his smile; Alex could get most males to do anything she wanted and that had proved really useful to the Temporal Detectives!
Jericho ordered the young man a tea and smiled at him, asking Willy about his experiences with the ‘ghost’. Willy smiled at Alex and sipped his tea. He worked as a clerk for the shipping line ‘OFL’ [Ocean Freight Limited] and was in Shed 13 with a colleague – Frederick Smith – checking an assignment of tea chests from India. It was four o’clock in the afternoon and they both saw another young man – who they didn’t recognise – standing by the doors reading a notebook apparently. Willy mentioned – twice – that he was really well dressed to work around the docks and that’s why they noticed him. Willy placed the cup down and gripped his hands together; “I said to Freddie that I had never seen him about the place before and Freddie hadn’t seen him before either. Then he walked past us – like we weren’t even there - and went straight through the big window without opening it or breaking the glass!”
Willy looked about and continued; “He was dressed like my old grandfather use to dress; three-piece suit with fob watch. He looked like he belonged in an Edwardian Accounts office. He didn’t have a hat or coat and Freddie just lost it and ran shouting from the shed. It took three cups of tea to calm him down.”
He leaned back; “But there was something really strange about the ghost...I mean, not that walking through a window without breaking it, isn’t strange!” Jericho asked what else was strange about the ‘ghost’. Willy now leaned forward and dropped his voice; “He appeared quite solid until he reached the window and then – just for a second or two – went transparent before stepping through. I’ve never seen that with any spectral apparition before.” Everyone glanced at each other and had the same thought; time traveller. Jericho asked him softly about the other ‘spectral apparitions’ that Willy had seen.
The young man glanced over his shoulder and dropped his voice even lower; “Several over the years at different locations.” He lowered his head a little in embarrassment and added; “That’s why they call me ‘weird Willy’ because I see strange things.”
Jericho nodded and smiled; “Well, Willy then join the club. We’re the team that the Dock Authority has asked to investigate the sightings. We’re the paranormal investigators from Rutland University.” A big smile burst upon the young’s face, and he visibly relaxed and smiled broadly at Alex. “That’s fantastic! If I can help in any capacity, then please ask. I would be really pleased to help.” Jericho patted his arm; “Well Willy, we may just take you up on that generous offer.”
As Alex commented later; it was like a light being switched on inside Willy. He completely opened up and relaxed with the team. At last, he had met people who wouldn’t immediately dismiss him as a ‘Looney’. He also couldn’t hide his interest in Alex very well. Wilson smiled at that and muttered to Owen; “Another moth to the flames.”
Apparently, Willy had been seeing strange things since he was a boy including a beautiful lady in white – he confessed, that now having seen Alex, the apparition wasn’t that beautiful! He recounted how he had a conversation with a strangely dressed old man on the number nine bus one evening, both sitting on the rear seats on the top deck. When he turned away; he noticed that the old man didn’t show in the darkened window. He turned back to find no one sitting there. He even asked the bored conductor about where the old man got off and was told that he [the conductor] hadn’t seen anyone matching that description on the bus!
Jericho nodded and smiled, telling Willy they were staying at ‘The Royal Standard’ pub in North Woolwich just opposite the police station. Willy knew it well and they would all meet up that evening. Everyone had to smile when he said ‘goodnight’ to Alex three times and then hung around the doorway, shuffling his feet and looking concerned. He hesitated by the door and smiled a little; “My old History teacher also investigates strange happenings like this. Mister McFarland has helped me, and I’ve helped him; he really knows about this stuff. Can I bring him along?”
Jericho nodded and smiled; he knew about ‘Quinn McFarland’ in this time and place and wondered about his involvement in a straightforward ‘ghost busting’ mission. Jericho was now very curious about what was happening at the docks. The team paid for their meals and tea, then walked outside and headed for the big black Morris Oxford car that Supplies had provided, which was being admired by several Dockers making their way to the cafe. They stopped admiring the car and admired Alex instead as Owen opened the rear door and she slipped gracefully inside. She received several ‘wolf-whistles’ in appreciation and just smiled.
Jericho sat in the front passenger seat and checked his mirror while Wilson started the engine; now he did really enjoy driving a big car like this; despite [in his opinion] the roads being far too small. “Young Willy is a ‘passer’ alright; he has the gift...or curse if you like. He could prove useful, so we’ll cultivate him. I’ll make a note to be there when he’s collected; he could have the makings of temporal detective with more experiences like that.” Wilson nodded and joined the traffic towards North Woolwich and their digs. “He reminds me of young hollow legs when he first joined.” Wilson chuckled and Alex agreed with him. Owen didn’t; “I wasn’t that wet behind the ears. I had been a novice monk you know. I had done and seen things.” He said, a little hurt and checked his mirror.
Alex patted his arm; “Don’t sulk sweetie, you know we love you.”
She
sat back and thought about young Willy: there was something about him that did
indeed remind her of Owen, and it wasn’t just his youth. Owen just grunted and
read his mirror. After a few minutes he looked up and smiled; “Did you know
there is a luxury block of flats now standing where shed 13 use to be; built in
2017? And guess what?” Jericho turned to him; he knew how good Owen was at research.
“What have you found?”
Owen now grinned; “Operations have reported several breeches of the timeline from those very flats; starting from shed 13 in 1912, right up to 2041.”
Jericho rubbed his chin and smiled; “So we definitely have a time traveler operating here. Now that makes this mission quite interesting.” Owen was working his mirror and almost smiled; “That fellow – Quinn McFarland – that Willy mentioned is a very interesting character holds a degree in History from Oxford, but his big passion is the supernatural and the paranormal and from what I’m reading here; he’s bloody good at it and knows what he’s doing. Little wonder Willy wants him along.” Alex leaned over and stared at Owen’s mirror and smiled; “Well, he’s certainly a big fellow. I bet he was an athlete when at school and university; smokes a pipe which is a good sign.”
No-one noticed the strange smile on Jericho’s face as they discussed Mister Quinn McFarland. Inspectors were privileged to know things that team members were not - under certain circumstances - and Jericho wondered what the big man was doing here.
Wilson turned the car onto the Bascule Bridge and chuckled; “Didn’t Doctor Crippen smoke a pipe?” They all laughed at that, and Alex commented on how little traffic there was at this time of day. Jericho nodded; “Wait until the shift change-over and you won’t say that.”
Owen gestured out the window; “Bloody hell, I’ve counted nine bloody pubs just down this stretch of road already!” Jericho chuckled; “You are a bit short; there are sixteen pubs down this road and three brothels. Remember that thousands of men worked each shift down here at this time, all with money to burn.” Everyone commented on the damaged buildings which appeared, the result of the German bombing of the docks during the last war. “I bet there are quite a few Earth-Bound spirits hiding around those ruins.” Owen said quietly and consulted his mirror. He sighed; “No less than nearly seventy souls not collected; just in the Second World War period alone. I suppose we can’t do…” Jericho shook his head: that was someone else’s mission.
They pulled down a quiet side street and grabbed their luggage from the boot. From the impressive police station rode out two mounted officers; followed by a huge constable on a little pushbike. He crossed the road and passed the team heading into the pub. He stopped and watched Alex walking in front of him with a wishful smile on his sweating face; then cycled down Pier Road. The pub was packed, and you could cut the smoke with a knife. There was a group of old men playing cards in a corner and they didn’t even look up as Alex swept past; they were the only men who didn’t! The publican leaned on his bar and raised his ‘pork-pie’ hat at Alex and asked; “You the Tibbs party?” Jericho nodded and the big man jerked a thumb towards the ‘Saloon bar’ and wiped his counter with a dirty cloth; “In there mate. He’s been waiting about twenty minutes.” Intrigued; the team headed for the saloon bar and found their visitor was sitting at a table with a bottle of scotch and several clean glasses with it. He pulled a large pipe from his mouth and smiled; “The Dock Authorities said you had been booked into here, so welcome to the London Docks my friends.” He raised a glass and gestured to the empty seats. “Please join me for a drink.” Jericho smiled; “Thank you Mister McFarland.” The team all sat down with Jericho introducing everyone and it was immediately noticed that Mister Quinn McFarland was seriously interested in Alex, though that didn’t surprise anyone!
2. THE STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE OF JOHN CRABB AND MICHAEL CHAMBERS on Thursday 3rd July 1958.
The big man pulled a shabby leather-bound notebook from his pocket and carefully opened it to a page marked with a playing card [the Queen of Hearts, should you wonder] and placed his pipe in the big ashtray that was already full of butts and ash. He tapped the page and read quietly; “John Crabb and Mickey Chambers were Stevedores working the night shift at the Royal Albert on Thursday 3rd July this year. They booked on at ten o’clock as usual and were placed by Shed 13. They were part of a crew unloading an Indian cargo ship that had arrived loaded with tea crates and cotton vests. When the tea break was sounded at midnight, they joined another member of their team near the shift office [at the side of shed 13] to play cards and drink their tea. Apparently the third card player, a certain Daniel Pike left the table to use the toilet at about quarter past twelve and as he walked back to the table, he could hear shouting. Both Crabb and Chambers were missing from the table.”
Quinn stopped reading and sipped his whisky, then continued; “He swears that he could hear their voices in the old shed; shouting for help or some kind of assistance, so he rushed to the shed doors and exactly at that time, there was a complete black out in the shed with the lights flickering and diming, then going off completely. But he claims there was bright flash of light near the secure area which made him screw up his eyes and when he opened them again both Crabb and Chambers had gone. He ran to the shift office to get help and when several men returned to the shed, the lights were back on and there was still no trace of the two men. No-one has seen them since, and their families are – obviously – very concerned at what happened. The police have questioned Daniel Pike for almost two days, and he never changed his story. They released him on Sunday morning, and he hasn’t returned to work yet.”
Owen cradled his glass and asked what was held in the ‘Secure Area’ of Shed 13. Quinn picked up his pipe and struck a match. “Apparently. It’s currently full of antiques that were shipped from Bombay by a rich collector who hasn’t arranged for their collection yet. I’ve examined the cage they are contained in and it’s as secure as the Bank of England. There’s only one door in or out and it’s five inches thick and braced with steel bands. When I saw it; there were four big brass padlocks on it. But there’s a strange story about the secure area since those crates of antiques turned up. Two Custom’s officers reported that they found one of the crates had been broken open and when they checked inside; two bizarre and strange looking statues had been smashed to bits and left inside. The other two in the crate were still wrapped and appeared in perfect condition. That incident had happened earlier in the day [Thursday 3rd July] and had been reported to the Dock Police by the Custom’s Officers. I understand that the owner of the antiques has been informed and will turn up tomorrow to collect the rest. Apparently, he wasn’t impressed as the four little statues were a set and quite valuable.”
Wilson finished his whisky and nodded; “So basically, all these incidents happened over Thursday 3rd July into Friday 4th July and took place after the antiques were put into storage there.” Quinn sucked on his pike and smiled; “Like me, do you believe there’s a connection between the two strange incidents?” Wilson said yes quietly as Quinn refilled his glass. Jericho sipped his whisky and muttered; “There are few real co-incidences in anything, so I would agree that they could be connected. Firstly, we need to look at the backgrounds of the two men who vanished and then take a close look at what those statues actually were. I suppose we can safely assume they are Indian in origin. Then we’ll have a look at their owner.”
Quinn smiled; “Willy has done a little checking up on Crabb and Chambers, so I asked him here to tonight, but he’s running a little late.” Jericho informed Quinn that the team had already met ‘weird Willy’ in the dockside café earlier. Quinn chuckled; “He’s a lovely lad with a sharp mind and he doesn’t scare easily. Now that helps if you investigate the paranormal.” He re-filled everyone’s glasses and smiled broadly at Alex. Oh yes, Quinn was definitely interested in Alex and couldn’t hide it.
They were interrupted by the pub landlord who slapped some keys on the table and smiled – slightly – pushing back his hat which apparently never left his head [so local rumour has it] and gestured to a door at the back of the saloon bar marked ‘Private’. “Through there and up the stairs you’ll find your rooms as booked. A double and two singles, the other single was booked before your people called, I’m afraid. Some bloody toff booked it for one night and should be here soon. Apparently, according to the lady that booked it, he’s here to collect some valuable antiques that he had shipped in.”
Now that did interest the little group at the table and Alex smiled at him and asked who had booked the room. The landlord grunted; “Some geezer called Sir Ezra Byron. He’s travelling down from Yorkshire.” Jericho picked up the keys and pushed a crisp pound note into the publican’s hand. “I wonder if you would be so kind to tell us when the gentleman arrives.” The publican now smiled and kissed the note, pushing it quickly into his dirty apron’s pocket. “Certainly sir, it would be my pleasure.” And he wandered off a much happier man.
Quinn rummaged in the old briefcase at his feet and pulled some papers from it. “I have an ex-pupil who is a typist at the cop shop across the road there and she gave me these copies of Daniel Pike’s statement. I wonder if you will find it as interesting as I did.” Jericho took the two pages and with Wilson at his shoulder read carefully. After a couple of minutes, he passed them to Alex and Owen who did the same. Quinn sat back and puffed on his pipe. “What it doesn’t say may actually interest you more.” He re-filled the glasses and re-opened his shabby notebook. “Pike was working a double shift that day. He had already completed an eight-hour day shift when he booked on for nights. He had worked the exact same area during the day including the unloading and storage of those valuable objects from India. Now this is where it could get interesting. Pike has a criminal record for theft – not unusual around these parts – but it’s what he used to thieve as a young man before getting married and working a steady job at the docks. I would point out he’s record has been clean for almost ten years.”
Jericho nodded; “What did he serve time for?” Quinn smiled broadly; “As a young man he was busted working with a gang from Plaistow who specialized in stealing and selling antiques! He was one of the ‘break in boys’ who did the actual burglaries; he served four years of a nine-year sentence and joined the docks after coming out of prison. As I say, he’s been clean for ten years since he married.” Wilson grunted and sipped his fresh whisky.
“Until
he received an offer he couldn’t refuse. I wonder how much those objects were
actually worth in cold cash?” Now Quinn
smiled again and handed Wilson a copy of the local Eastham Gazette; “According to
that reporter, the Indian antiques – as a set of four – were worth about twenty-five
thousand pounds!” [In today’s money that would be about £540,000 or just
over half a million pounds!]
“That’s serious money.” Alex said quietly and wondered why the crate didn’t have more security placed around it. But her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of ‘weird Willy’ who seemed overjoyed at meeting Quinn and the others. He was carrying several books tied with thick string and he squeezed around the table and declined a whisky. Quinn bought him up to speed with the discussions taking place and Willy sat nodding. He pulled a thin volume from the tied bundle and carefully opened it to a marked page. “This volume gives some details about the rich merchants who used the docks before the Great War [1914-1918] and this picture of Sir Robert Granger taken in 1905 is a real eye opener.” Everyone leaned forward and saw that Sir Robert was a young man in an expensive three-piece suit, photographed by the desk and window of his study in June 1905.
Willy took a deep breath and tapped the photograph with a nervous finger; “I would swear that’s the man who walked straight through the window in front of me and Freddie!” Quinn turned the book and read quietly; “Sir Robert Granger lives and works near the London Docks, having a handsome villa in Forest Gate and offices at the dockside. He inherited his father’s business interests in 1899 and has proved successful in expanding that business. He specializes in shipments of goods from the Indian sub-continent including the ever profitable and popular mainstay of the English; tea, He is known as a keen collector of Indian memorabilia and his collection has been exhibited at the Victoria & Albert Museum.”
“It
has to be his ghost that Freddie and I saw that night. He’s a dead ringer for
that apparition.” Willy stated with some conviction and certainty. He then
pulled another book from the pile and slapped one open on the crowded pub table.
“Like a lot of ghosts who can’t rest; he died in strange circumstances, well,
quite tragic circumstances to be honest.” Alex leaned forward and smiled at
Willy; “What happened to him Willy?”
Willy managed a smile and loosed his tie which had become incredibly tight. “In July 1912 he was taken seriously ill with some sickness that baffled his doctors and was taken to Eastham Infirmary. He lingered there – totally unconscious apparently – until he died. But that’s not the tragic part, not by a long straw. He was buried in Forest Gate cemetery and was largely forgotten until 1941 when the bloody Luftwaffe bombed the Eastend, and some bombs landed on the cemetery and blew open several graves. He was one of them and workmen sent to re-bury the dead made a shocking and horrifying discovery. His coffin had been blown open and his remains damaged. But what utterly horrified them were the deep scratches on the inside of the coffin lid; poor Sir Robert had apparently not been dead and tried to get out of the coffin. The scratches were made by his fingers and nails clawing at the lid. Little wonder he had returned as a ghost; he was buried alive!”
Jericho just nodded and asked about Crabb and Chambers. Willy pulled his notebook out and flicked through a few pages. “John Crabb is straight as a dye. He’s worked the docks since he was seventeen with no incidents reported about him. He has no criminal record, and his uncle is a local priest at St. Mary’s at Eastham. Married with four kids he is considered a good risk to work within the secure area of Shed 13. So, this is quite out of character and the police are taking his disappearance seriously. But Michael Chambers is a different matter. Frankly I have no idea how he was selected to work in the secure area. He did time for burglaries in his youth, but for the last ten years he’s been clean. Lives with his old mum in Plaistow and there’s nothing known about him except his last brush with the law just a few months ago which came to nothing. He certainly wasn’t charged. The local CID found no evidence to support the allegations that he sexually assaulted a young girl in a Westham picture palace.
Apparently, she claimed he stuck his hand up her skirt and had a handful of…” he stopped talking and nodded at Alex, adding; “I won’t go into details with a real lady present.” and smiled broadly. “The police are looking at his disappearance solely – I believe – because he disappeared at the same time and place as John Crabb. By the way, the girl’s dad, uncle and two big brothers were said to be after him. I think it says all about that if you realize she was from a gypsy family!”
Quinn chuckled; “Now they certainly look after their own and the fact the police took no action wouldn’t deter them from giving Chambers a good hiding.” Everyone agreed that Willy’s research was top class and Jericho knew that his judgment of the young man was correct; Willy would make an excellent Temporal Detective when the time came. The little working party broke up with everyone agreeing to meet at Shed 13 the following morning. Willy would get the necessary permissions from his superiors at the Dock offices.
With Quinn and Willy gone the team sat at the table and went over what they had. The first problem was the time traveler theory; IF [and that was a big if according to Owen] Sir Robert had actually been buried alive and died, then he couldn’t possibly be a time traveler and was an earth-bound spirit. Owen pointed out the co-incidence of Sir Robert’s ‘Death’ in 1912 matched the first breech of the timeline from this time and place. He rechecked his mirror – discretely – and confirmed that breech had taken place in July 1912.
Jericho rubbed his chin; “Now that is some co-incidence, and you know what I say about them. Owen, check to see if Sir Robert’s soul was collected and his death was on schedule.” Owen nodded and operated his mirror beneath the table. He looked up unsmiling; “No soul collected, and Sir Robert should have died in 1951 from influenza but he missed that departure date; he’s a missing soul with no record of a death yet.”
Wilson grunted; “So the time traveler theory is back on the table, but who the hell was buried alive in that grave back in 1912?”
3. SIR EZRA BYRON.
Jericho sighed; “Well, even our slowest collector will think that collecting a soul from its damn grave is unusual, so see if any reported such an occurrence back in 1912.” He had directed his remarks to Owen, but Alex answered, looking up from her mirror. “John David Dakin’s soul was collected in July 1912 from its graveside by Little Kath who reported the odd incident to Operations at the time. Dakin’s had died two months ahead of schedule. He was basically a dead man already with the serious illnesses he was suffering.“ She read on and added; “He told Kath that he had been well paid to play dead and should never have been buried in the damn coffin. It had been arranged to have him escape at the undertakers and the coffin weighed with stones and bricks. But for some reason that never happened and he woke up in the coffin and tried to escape. He suffocated to death obviously. There’s not much else; except he received fifty years quarantine for a couple of murders committed in his youth in Nottingham. He was never caught for them but the Duty death Angel – Francis – knew about them. He re-joined the Human Life Cycle in 1962.”
That’s when Jericho saw the publican gesturing to him; Sir Ezra Byron had just checked in. “Now let’s get acquainted with Sir Ezra and find out about these precious Indian antiques.” Jericho muttered and rose from the table and headed for the public bar; gesturing for Alex to join him. Owen and Wilson sat and finished their drinks, talking quietly together.
Sir Ezra was signing the ‘Guests’ book on the main bar. Alex looked him up and down and smiled to herself. He was a big strapping man who clearly looked after himself. He had short dark hair and must have stood at about six feet. He was immaculately dressed in an expensive three-piece dark suit with equally expensive black boots. She noticed his well-manicured hands were big and he wrote with a confident flourish. Sir Ezra must have been in his late thirties. The pub landlord said something to him, and he turned and stared at Jericho and then Alex as they approached. Unsurprisingly, the big man now smiled at her.
Jericho introduced himself and Miss Alexandra, explaining why the Docks Authority had hired them. Sir Ezra placed the pen down and leaned on the bar. “Whisky my good man, some damn decent whisky please.” He said quietly. Alex had to smile again; his deep voice matched his appearance perfectly. Jericho gestured to the saloon bar and asked if Sir Ezra would join them. He accepted the glass from the landlord and took a sip, then looking at Alex – again – nodded slowly. He picked up his battered ‘Gladstone’ bag and followed them to the table where Owen and Wilson still sat. Again, Jericho did the introductions and Sir Ezra shook hands all round. He seemed impressed with Wilson and listened carefully to the stories about Shed 13 and especially the vanishing duo of Crabb and Chambers.
Owen ordered more drinks from the bar and fetched them back; all very large decent whiskies. Now that did impress Sir Ezra who stated – whilst smiling at Alex – that whisky was like women. The cheap one’s left a bad taste in the mouth, but the exquisite and usually expensive one’s were like nectar, and he never did bother with the cheap ones! Jericho asked him about his Indian objects and expressed sadness that two had apparently been broken. Sir Ezra sat back and sipped his whisky with some unrestrained relish. Finally, he spoke quietly; “The four figures were all purchased in Delhi from a very reputable dealer for the amazing sum of £25,000. [He seemed to believe that was a bargain!] They represent the four Gods or demons of evil and death. They are all medieval; created in the fourteenth century of the Christian era. They represent Kali, the Demon of evil manifestations and Shiva the God of Destruction. Those two were a pair and I’m hoping they are not the broken ones. The other two represent Ravana, the demon King and Yama the God of the dead or the underworld. They are known as the underworld or Dark Pantheon and are rarely displayed together because of the sheer amount of evil they represent. I had been searching the damn sub-continent for about a year for such a collection. I knew I should have carried them myself when I returned in May this year. But I had all the other finds from my archeological dig to supervise. I’m an Archeologist by profession and I’ve been digging in the Kashmir region for a few years.”
He finished his whisky and immediately accepted another from Owen’s tray. “They are important to me obviously, but as long as crate 7 is still untouched then I won’t be too sad.” Jericho called the landlord over and pushed a couple of pound notes into his hand and asked for a very decent bottle of single malt. The landlord actually grinned this time and kissed the notes. He returned with a dusty, but decent bottle of single malt whisky. Now that did make Sir Ezra smile.
Alex asked him about crate 7 and what was so important about it. She did it with a lovely smile and Sir Ezra couldn’t resist her request. He rolled his glass around in his big hands and sighed.
“My dear pretty little thing, the crate contained an incredible find from the snow-capped mountains of the Kashmir. It is actually far more valuable than the dark Pantheon figurines.” He took a deep breath and explained. “My little expedition was moving through the foothills of the mountains when we were caught in a huge and violent snowstorm. My guide hadn’t seen one like it in twenty years and we needed shelter urgently; especially for the horses and mules. If we lost them, then we were also lost; dead probably. We stumbled on and suddenly came across the ruins of a small Hindu Temple. I knew it was old, ancient even in medieval times, but it was shelter and so we camped down to sit out the storm. We sat for a few hours as the storm raged about us, then Rami – one of my senior diggers – noticed what appeared to be a doorway of stone inside a dark alcove. I had to investigate of course. It was covered with writings in Sanskrit – a very ancient language – warning about the prison of Madāsura; the demon of the human hubris or arrogance who had been cast down to protect humans from becoming too self-important and self-centered, bloated with their own confidence which would lead to humanity self-destructing itself. Well, I’m an Archeologist and we had to look. We found a small little statuette of the demon, no bigger than a man’s head, sitting in cave surrounded by human skeletons. There were bones everywhere. But the figurine was made of gold with precious gems, so we took it. Having found such an item, I cancelled the expedition and when the weather cleared, we returned to Delhi as quickly as possible. I made immediate arrangements for all the finds to be shipped home to England on a fast tea clipper. There were several crates and I paid well to have them handled with care. So as long as Crate 7 is untouched I will be a happy man.”
Jericho, who had listened with some real interest, asked what else was in the crates. Sir Ezra leaned forward and finished his whisky. “The only other item I’m concerned about is a small statue of Mahaka that I acquired. That figurine is quite priceless and very ancient. It’s also cursed in that some of its previous owners all simply disappeared, never to be seen or heard of again. According to the legends that surround it, no less than five owners have mysteriously disappeared in the last two hundred years. But there were many more that didn’t!”
Owen asked quietly what ‘Mahaka’ was God of. Sir Ezra placed his glass down and almost smiled; “Why, he represented the victory of man over time and death my young friend.” Sir Ezra didn’t notice the look that passed between the Temporal Detectives. They all thought the same thing, an ancient time portal.
Wilson whispered to Alex; “This case gets more interesting by the minute.” And she couldn’t disagree with him. Sir Ezra slapped both hands on the table and smiled; “I have a great idea my friends, why don’t we go up west and find a decent restaurant. The treats on me and I do enjoy interesting company and ghost hunters will do that job nicely. I can also tell you about my adventures in the Punjab which almost got me killed. I had to escape by boat from an angry mob who though I was going to steal the village’s statue of their protective Goddess. That was a close-run thing I can tell you!” he rose and gestured to the doors; “Come on, let’s make a night of it. After all, we could all wake up dead tomorrow!” Jericho retrained from smiling, wondering what Sir Ezra would say if he knew they had all been ‘dead’ for years!
The team dined at the Savoy Grill and went dancing at the Piccadilly Club afterwards. Sir Ezra wouldn’t let anyone pay a penny and tipped the waiting staff and cab drivers generously. The Piccadilly Club visit almost ended with everyone in police custody due to two men who objected to Wilson dancing with a young white woman who really liked the look of the big man. Sir Ezra – who was dancing with some skill with Alex – joined in the growing argument between Wilson, his dancing partner and the two men. Someone threw a punch. Owen thought that was Sir Ezra, but he denied it. Soon a full-scale fight had exploded on the dance floor. Apparently, there were several Royal Navy ratings present and they joined in, though strangely enough mainly beat each other up! The police were called, and the team escaped through a fire exit with Sir Ezra gripping Alex’s hand quite tightly.
They ended up in a couple of taxis and headed back to their digs. As Owen summed it up; “He’s quite a character, isn’t he?” No-one could disagree with that.
4. ALEX AND THE ARCHAEOLOGIST.
They returned to the Royal Standard pub and headed for their rooms with Alex noting that Sir Ezra’s room was on her floor.
The
pair were left alone in the small gloomy corridor, and they said ‘goodnight’ to
each other, then stood in silence until Sir Ezra gestured to his door and
slowly smiled, “Would you like a nightcap my dear?” Alex smiled ruefully and
nodded, “A small one would be nice.” Sir Ezra chuckled and unlocked the door
saying, “There’s nothing small about my nightcaps my dear!” And Alex followed
him in and found that, whatever Sir Ezra was, he didn’t exaggerate [well, not
too much!] and she was very pleased by what he served up.
He sat on the bed, pulling off his clothes as Alex stood by the subdued fire and slowly removed hers. She was giving the horny archaeologist a teasing strip show and he was very grateful to receive it. Her blouse came off with her bra and those magnificent tits were revealed and Sir Ezra actually groaned a little and pulled off his trousers at some speed. She unzipped her dress, removing it with a naughty flourish and placed it on the chair by the fireplace. Next, she simply pulled down her petticoat and stepped from it. Now standing in just her stockings and panties, she removed her heels and smiled at Sir Ezra, now naked and gripping his cock. Alex’s eyes widened and she now grinned: his ‘nightcap’ was enormous, erect and ready for action.
She walked slowly to him, and they embraced, with Sir Ezra’s mouth meeting hers, and her hand taking possession of that natural wonder that hung between his legs. “I have something in my handbag for that.” She whispered when she managed to get his tongue out of her mouth. He watched with growing lust and anticipation as she picked up her bag and produced a tube of the magic potion [as she called it, but it was good old KY jelly!] and walked back to him. He pulled her roughly onto the bed and pushed her head onto his cock and she devoured it without argument. He lay back, watching her carefully, as she knelt by him and set to work on his throbbing and twitching cock. She started at the tip and worked her way down to his equally huge balls, using her tongue, mouth and skilled fingers. He loved it and groaned in appreciation of her efforts, especially when she did the same with his balls, almost fitting them entirely in her mouth. He loved that and said so.
His hand was now between her legs, caressing her fanny with eager fingers and was delighted to find that it was already soaking wet. “You’re a very naughty and horny ghost hunter my dear.” He whispered and Alex managed a giggle as best she could, with her mouth stuffed with his big cock. Her jaw ached a little as she pulled it from her mouth and smeared it with the ‘Magic potion’ which signalled that the fucking must start, and it did. Alex settled against the pillows which were pushed up against the headboard and opened her legs, one hand lubricating her fanny with more of the ‘Magic potion’ and when she finished, Sir Ezra mounted her with some urgency.
He gripped the back of the small headboard with both hands and started as he meant to carry on: fucking her hard, deep and fast. The bed groaned more than Alex under his skillful thrusting, and she gripped his big shoulders and pushed up to meet his heavy downward thrusts with some skill. He chuckled, “You’ve done this before my darling!” Alex smiled; “And some!” Was all she said.
They changed into Alex’s second favourite position: her on top and Sir Ezra loved it too because he could now take full possession of those wonderful big tits and especially those rock-hard nipples, which he feasted on and enjoyed immensely. He grunted in appreciation as Alex moved back and forth, slowly at first then faster, her hips almost rotating as she too gripped the headboard. The bed now rattled, moaned and squeaked under the lovers assault. It clearly wasn’t coping with such an energetic pair of lovers and said so by collapsing under them. They rolled onto the floor, laughing and cussing, with Sir Ezra grabbing the pillows and placing it behind his head as Alex remounted and the passionate fucking continued on the threadbare carpet, in front of the dying fire.
They changed position again, Sir Ezra held Alex around the waist with one hand, whilst the other supported her bouncing arse. The pair was up against the wall, with Sir Ezra lifting her up and down with sheer strength. Alex noted, in-between groaning and gasping, that archaeologists must be fit to do their job! He certainly proved that statement. She gripped his shoulders and threw back her head, her long hair now falling about her shoulders, cascading down as was her first big orgasm. It came just seconds later, making Alex’s legs shake and twitch with passion. That’s when her head caught the small picture of Jesus giving the sermon on the mount, and that fell to the floor, smashing. The happy couple ignored that and now fucked in front of the fireplace, well away from any broken glass. As Alex whispered; she didn’t want bloody broken glass anywhere near her bum or feet. Sir Ezra agreed and they changed to the floor by the fire which was now dead. Alex was face down on the carpet, her head and tits cushioned by the pillows as Sir Ezra lay on top, pounding her with renewed vigour. She had another mighty orgasm and actually bit the damn pillow! They now changed to the small sofa which couldn’t accommodate both of them stretched out, so Sir Ezra sat on it with Alex facing away from him, on his lap. She leaned back and gripped the sofa as she enthusiastically bounced up and down, watching his big wet cock penetrating her, which turned Alex on even more, not that she needed it. But their luck [with bloody furniture!] was out and one leg of the old sofa gave up the ghost and they now fucked at a strange angle until Sir Ezra announced that he was about to cum and he certainly did.
Alex groaned and took several little breaths as he filled her with his juice, and it just kept coming. It managed to squeeze past that enormous cock and run down her thighs and legs, like a river that broke its banks. “Sweet Jesus! Do you supply it by the gallon?” Alex gasped out and they fell upon the floor, laughing and kissing.
They were both covered with sweat and were panting. Sir Ezra now kissed Alex with some passion: it had been a long time since he had such an energetic and sexually dirty partner to play with and he would be very reluctant to give her up. They sat against the broken sofa and stared about the room in silence, until Sir Ezra sighed “I think I’ll have some explaining to do about all this my dear and it will coast me some serious money to placate the damn landlord, but you were certainly worth every bloody penny!” They laughed together and Alex knew she had to go. They dressed quietly, kissed again and Alex returned to her room to find it was almost three o’clock in the morning: they been fucking for almost an hour and a half! “Sweet bleeding Jesus! He must have the stamina of a breeding bull.” She whispered to herself as she slipped into her bed and hoped this one wouldn’t collapse under her. But she slept soundly until Owen knocked, saying that breakfast was in an hour and she better hurry if she needed a bath. There were only two between the guests and bloody Jericho was already in one!
Alex groaned at the thought of eating, she had only been asleep for three hours, but a hot bath appealed greatly to her. She was probably still filled with some of Sir Ezra’s cum and there were lots of that. She managed a smile as she slipped reluctantly from the bed, grabbed her dressing gown and headed for the bathrooms. One door was locked – she could hear Jericho singing to music, probably from his mirror – and the other was locked too! But Owen’s voice asked who it was, and she answered quietly and that she really need a bath. She heard the lock turn, and she stepped in to see Owen climbing back in the tub. “Thank you, you’re a true gentleman…..or lady!” She said and pulled off her dressing gown and joined him in the bath. The pair splashed about, very quietly chatting and laughing, especially when she described her experience with Sir Ezra and the damage to the room. She lay back and enjoyed the hot water and Owen’s conversation. “You’re a true friend.” She murmured.
5. SHED 13. Tuesday 8th July 1958. PART 1
Alex stared at her scrambled eggs and poked them with a fork. To say the team was a little subdued at breakfast was an understatement. Wilson stared at his full English and would have sworn that the two eggs looked like his own eyes. Owen drank glass after glass of orange juice whilst staring as Jericho tucked into his breakfast [also full English] with some gusto. “Cracking breakfast this people, one of the best we’ve had in some time. This pub gets five stars just for this.” He buttered some more toast and asked Alex to pass the marmalade.
Sir Ezra sat opposite with a huge plate of fried everything and worked across it with his knife and fork. “Absolutely spot on Jericho my man. The best one I’ve had in months. The ship I travelled home on did a good show, but nothing compared to this.” He called the publican’s wife and complimented her on the food and asked her for some ‘Bucks Fizz’, which she returned with almost immediately – smiling it should be noted – as she piled more bacon and sausage on his plate. “Now this is a proper breakfast my friends. When my brother has hunting on the estate, there’s always Bucks Fizz and brandy before the off and the breakfast has kidneys and lamb chops too. Plenty of Kedgeree to fill the gaps; don’t know how some people can do a full morning’s hunt on a cup of coffee and some toast. Just unbelievable!” This was followed by hot coffee and to everyone’s non-surprise, a glass of brandy!
Sir Ezra sat back and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Now my friends, that should keep the damn worms at bay until lunchtime. I’ve booked lunch on the train back up to Yorkshire and should be home in time for dinner.” Alex stared at him and wondered where the hell he put it all! His figure certainly didn’t betray his eating habits. Wilson jabbed her with a finger; “He’s like bleeding Owen; has hollow legs I expect.” She just nodded and managed some well buttered toast.
Sir Ezra was inspecting his cargo at 10am and they all agreed to meet there at Shed 13. He stated that he looked forward to meeting Quinn and weird Willy as they ‘sounded like bloody interesting chaps!’ and the breakfast party broke up. Jericho outlined a new priority for the team; discover if the Indian figurine found in the Kashmir contained a time portal which would explain all the mysterious disappearances of some of its previous owners. Owen – his appetite slowly returning – set about his almost cold breakfast which actually made Alex feel a little nauseous. He tapped the table with his knife; “Do you know who Sir Ezra reminds me of?”
Wilson nodded and muttered; “Yeah, bloody McIves!” Now that did make everyone chuckle. Jericho finished discretely checking his mirror and said quietly; “Sir Ezra Byron is a relative of the notorious poet Lord Byron who loved life, women, food and drink as much as Sir Ezra does. His brother is a bleeding Earl who inherited a castle and a grand estate in North Yorkshire. Sir Ezra is a noted archeologist, noted it should be said, by his alleged ‘looting’ of antiquities. He’s practically banned from Egypt and the Far East. According to this, the authorities in Persia actually will arrest him if he sets foot in Iraq or Iran. On a personal note, he has fathered three children by three different women so far. As Owen put it, quite a character. But there is nothing known about any time travelling activities or connections with the Dark Side. He’s clean on those two important aspects.” Everyone rose from the table and headed back to their rooms. They passed Sir Ezra heading out to his car and he said ‘goodbye’ to each; especially Alex it should be noted. He leapt into his Healey 100 sports car and disappeared up the road waving with one hand.
Quinn met them at the Dock Gates and squeezed in the back of the car with Alex and Owen. He carried a big canvas bag which had to go in the boot. The two Port of London Authority police officers checked the car and its passengers before letting them on site. The older constable informed Jericho that a certain William Weaver was waiting for them at Shed 13 with a Custom’s officer. They would be under his supervision [the Custom’s officer] until they left. Wilson followed the constable’s directions to the Shed, and everyone was amazed at the amount of traffic and people swarming around the ships and dockyards. Only the team knew – of course – that by 1981 the docks would be closed and derelict for years, changing east London for good and at the time, causing massive unemployment amongst the working class of the area.
But for now, the place was a thriving workshop; filled with people, ships and cargos. They parked outside the shed beneath the shadow of big steamer which had just docked; it was flying the Norwegian flag. Some of the crew leaned on the railings of their ship and wolf-whistled Alex as she stepped from the big black car. They cheered when she gave them a cheeky little wave in response. Willy introduced the Custom’s Officer to them; a certain Graham Venture who apparently was dour, humourless and a ‘jobs worth’ according to Willy’s whispered conversation with them as they waited for Sir Ezra. Jericho watched as Quinn was sketching the scene in his notebook after Officer Venture [as he liked to be addressed] said no photography was allowed inside the secure shed area.
The shed supervisor – a certain Arthur Kent – waited by the locked cage door and said very little. He answered every question put to him by Quinn or Jericho with a ‘yes’, ‘no’ or ‘don’t know’. Owen said quietly to Alex and Wilson; “He’s almost bloody monosyllabic!” They couldn’t disagree with his judgment of the man. Finally, Sir Ezra arrived and leapt from his sporty little car and joined them at the caged area. The Custom’s officer wasn’t impressed that he was a peer of the realm and called him ‘Mister’ despite being properly introduced by Jericho. Finally, Officer Venture gave the go ahead to Mister Kent and the four big padlocks were opened and removed, the heavy door pushed open, and the lights switched on. They wandered in and headed for the ‘valuables’ area where Sir Ezra’s crates were stored. They were in for a big surprise; there was a dead body sprawled across the dirty floor between two crates!
They
gathered around the dead man as Jericho told Mr. Kent to fetch the police which
he did without saying a word. Alex bent down and examined the corpse and pronounced
it definitely dead. Sir Ezra was now thoroughly impressed with her after Owen
told him she was a doctor. Willy Weaver looked a little shocked but managed to
blurt out; “For Christ’s sake it’s Mickey Chambers!”
Alex stood and spoke directly to Jericho; “He’s still warm, so time of death has to be less than a couple of hours at the most. But I wouldn’t get too near; this man died of the bloody Bubonic Plague! Look at the Buboes! There hasn’t been an outbreak of this in England for years. Since the 1700’s I believe.” Sir Ezra stared at the body and agreed with Alex’s diagnosis; he had seen some cases in India during his travels there. Officer Venture just stood with his mouth open, finally he said quietly; “How the hell can a man missing for five days contract the bloody Bubonic Plague and die?”
Jericho shrugged his shoulders; “I don’t know officer Venture, but it’s a bloody good question!” They could all hear the running feet of the London Port Authority police officers entering the caged area. “I have a feeling Jericho my man, that I will have to wait a bit longer for my goods.” Sir Ezra muttered and took a swig from a huge silver hipflask and passed it round.
Quinn turned to the pair and asked; “So if this is Chambers, where the hell is Crabb?” Jericho again shrugged his shoulders and rubbed his chin; “Quinn, that’s another bloody good question.” The older policeman listened very carefully as Alex explained what the man had died of – apparently, she could see no marks of violence on the body – and how his corpse should be handled to stop the spread. He removed his helmet and wiped his face and neck with a hankie; “It’ll be done just as you say Doctor.” and he told the younger constable to fetch CID from the local station and tell them to proceed with care with the body.
Everyone
waited by the Shed 13’s main doors, glad to be back in the warm morning
sunshine. Jericho sat in their car, checking his mirror and then called his
team over whilst Sir Ezra, Quinn and Willy huddled together, talking softly.
Jericho spoke to his team through the open car door. “No collector, so either he sold his soul or was killed outside his ordained time period which would mean he died in another time and was dumped here after death. According to Operations, there was a breach of the timeline this morning at 8.35am for this time and place. Two living humans arrived from 1344AD, stayed about twenty minutes and then returned to that time. I can tell you that in 1344 there was serious outbreak of the Black Death in the world at the time; thousands upon thousands died of Bubonic Plague.”
Wilson patted Alex’s arm; “Spot on with your time of death girl. Just about 600 years out!” Alex folded her arms and didn’t smile; “This is really serious, what if those idiots returning here have bought the bloody deadly plague back with them? We could have a disaster on our hands with thousands of unscheduled deaths and that would change the current timeline drastically.” Jericho nodded his agreement with that. “If Chambers ended up in 1344, then I suspect so did Crabb. But where the hell is he now and is the bugger infected?”
They could all hear the sirens getting louder and Jericho sighed loudly as they were joined by Quinn who leaned on the open car door. “I take it you all spotted the odd thing about our dead dock worker?” Jericho stared back at the shed entrance and almost smiled; “You mean apart from being dead from Bubonic plague.” Quinn smiled; “How many Dockers go missing for days and then turn up dead from a medieval illness whilst dressed like someone from the bloody Edwardian area?”
Owen clicked his fingers and cussed; “I noticed that his clothes were odd, but the plague bit threw my thoughts off track!” Quinn smiled at the team and said softly; “You don’t think our two missing dock workers have been travelling in time, do you? Bit of a co-incidence is it, that the ghost who started all this – a certain Sir Robert Granger – was from that very era and all this started when he put in an appearance?” Jericho managed a smile; “Now that’s an interesting theory.”
6. QUINN’S REVELATIONS.
Sir Ezra got nowhere with his argument with the dour Detective Inspector from North Woolwich police station over collecting his precious objects. He was told firmly that he would have to wait until the apparent crime scene was thoroughly investigated. Everyone who attended that scene was escorted to the police station to make statements, which they did.
Alex
insisted everyone check their clothes for lice or fleas and that did impress
the Detective Inspector who made it an order. It was a couple of hours later
that the team trudged across the busy Albert Road back to the Royal Standard
pub. They were impressed by the landlord’s wife who had produced lunch for
those that wanted it. They sat in the saloon bar and enjoyed Shepherd’s pie,
carrots and peas washed down by some decent bitter. Alex had a bottle of ‘cream
label stout’ and really liked it.
Willy
sat cradling his bitter shandy, deep in thought, whilst Quinn knocked back a
pint with a whisky chaser. There was relative silence until Willy opened up the
conversation.
“Sir Ezra has gone back to the shed to wait the lifting of the cordon; he really wants to check his objects. I thought that Inspector was going to sling him in a cell at one point.” Willy allowed himself a little smile at that. Quinn returned from his phone call closing up his shabby notebook. He smiled at everyone and slapped a pound note into Willy’s hand. “Get everyone another round Willy.” Quinn sat back down and sat holding his notebook until Willy and Owen left for the bar, talking together like a pair of old friends.
“I’m a history teacher by profession and a social history researcher by hobby and in my spare time I study the supernatural and paranormal. I’ll address my remarks to Jericho and Alex first because I haven’t quite worked out the facts of Owen and Mister Wilson. You see, there was a certain lawyer at the turn of this century called Jericho Tibbs who disappeared without a trace; just like a certain east end Doctor called Alexandra Featherstone. Both just disappeared and were related by marriage; the lawyer was married to the doctor’s sister; Elizabeth. The doctor’s distraught brother Charles spent years trying to find the pair without success and left quite a trail behind him, which revealed his efforts. Two of my very best students have just passed on their findings to me. Hence the telephone call. You see, Doctor Featherstone would be in her seventies now and the lawyer even older. But to my surprise I find they are still quite young and alive; apparently. I can only guess that travelling in time doesn’t age one.” He sipped his beer and continued; “Then there are those little thin glass boxes you try to hide. I can’t even begin to understand their power, but they definitely don’t belong in Edwardian times or even these modern times. I seriously wonder why you have appeared in this time and place, but suspect you chase other time travelers and apprehend them before they can change things. I have a strong suspicion just who you work for and that blows my mind. Now please tell me I’m wrong in my deliberations?”
Owen and Willy returned to the almost silent table and sat back down. “The body has not been taken to Eastham Morgue, there are a couple of coppers – off duty – from the nick and they told the landlord. Apparently, men in plastic suits, like you see in those films about atomic bomb explosions, took the body in a van. They’re taking it to some specialist hospital north of the river for examination. The authorities haven’t pressed the panic button; yet!” Willy told everyone as he handed out the pints and another bottle of ‘cream label stout’ for a very subdued Alex.
Owen could feel the change in atmosphere at the table, but Willy clearly didn’t and carried on with what the two coppers had told the landlord. “They have cordoned off the whole area and I doubt if Sir Ezra will get his Indian figurines or anything else for some time. Apparently, the Military are sending some kind of specialist decontamination team to clean the area. No-one will be allowed near the place until it’s done.” Alex poured her stout into a clean glass and said quietly; “How come they are doing all that if they let us just walk out the door and go into a bloody pub?”
Jericho
– still staring at Quinn – nodded his agreement; “You’re right Alex. It doesn’t
make sense. If you are going for an effective quarantine, then everybody in
close contact with that infected body needs to be quarantined.” He had just finished talking when everyone
heard the loudspeaker outside the front door calling for attention inside the
pub.
Jericho and Quinn walked to the open doors, quickly joined by the landlord. There was red coloured ropes strung everything with dozens of uniformed police officers standing behind them. A uniformed Police Inspector was standing with a megaphone, shouting out instructions. It appears everyone in the pub was there for at least four days, maybe five because that was the acknowledged time of the disease’s incubation period. They would be released – if all clear – after that time. Anyone trying to escape would be placed in prison isolation for a month and charged with endangering human life under the Emergency Powers act. He reminded everyone in the pub they could get five years minimum for that offence, so they had better stay where they were. Food and water would be supplied. For any medical emergencies there was already a doctor inside. He repeated his statement and walked back to the Police van and talked with several news reporters.
Willy joined them at the door, grim faced; “They have cut off the phone and the backyard has coppers swarming all over it.” Quinn gestured to the military lorry which had several men in bio-hazard suits standing by; they were shepherding the Detective Inspector and his team inside, along with the station sergeant and anyone who had come into contact with the people from Shed 13. Alex joined them, arms folded; “They will probably supply us with Antiserum. That’s known to ‘cure’ the bubonic plague. It was developed by a German scientist late last century; it’s made from horse serum. But I suspect it may be hard to get hold of initially and hence this quarantine.”
Quinn nodded his agreement; “I’m afraid we’re trapped here until they get the serum to us, but they’ll only do that if anyone here shows signs of infection, otherwise they’ll just sit back and wait.”
The pub landlord turned to them and looked puzzled; ”What are they talking about? What bloody doctor?” Alex held up a hand and the landlord now smiled; “Blimey, you’re the doctor! I wonder if you could have a look at my ‘farmer Giles’, they’re bleeding killing me!” Alex just sighed. It could be a very long quarantine in some respects. [Framer Giles is Cockney rhyming slang for piles or haemorrhoids!]
She headed up the stairs back to her room and lay on the bed, thinking about Sir Ezra and Quinn the historian, but there was something strange about Quinn and she couldn’t put her finger on it. That’s when there was a soft knock at the door. Alex jumped from the bed and opened it. “Talk of the devil.” Was all she said as Quinn smiled and she gestured him in, checking the corridor and closing the door. ‘Now this could be interesting.’ she thought. He eased himself onto the only chair and Alex sat on the bed, so Quinn pulled his chair closer and leaned forward, his voice just above a whisper and spoke for a couple of minutes and sat back smiling.
Alex folded her arms: her instincts had been correct about this man and now the bastard was using his knowledge and position to bloody blackmail her! Finally she said, “And what if I become your friend mister McFarland or whatever your name is?” He smiled again and held up his hands, “Well Alexandra, I could never betray a friend so, your secret sex games will remain a secret from your friends, colleagues, and bosses. I think that’s a really generous offer considering your position, don’t you?”
“And what do you want this friend to do for you?” She asked, knowing full well what he wanted of her. He reached out and ran a hand up her skirt and playfully tugged at a suspender, then squeezed her thigh. He slowly withdrew his hand and said softly, “So, friend or foe Alexandra?” She sighed, this was some awful turn up for the books and her future was now in the hands of this disgusting man. But what choice did she have, submitting to his sexual demands would solve the problem, after all, if he fucked her, that could be proved and if he spoke up, she could use that against him, and he would be just as ruined. She unfolded her arms and slowly nodded. He smiled and rose from the chair, pulling off his jacket. “Keep your stockings on darling and nothing else.” Alex sighed again, now that didn’t surprise her unlike his dirty proposal.
Alex lay against the pillows which were propped up against the headboard. She was in the missionary position [his choice] with just her stockings and suspender belt on [as ordered] and Quinn had mounted her with his adequate cock and was thrusting slowly, so he could make it last. He wasn’t interested in satisfying her, just himself. Alex stared up at the ceiling and thought about anything except him fucking her. She didn’t like just submitting to sex and she certainly didn’t like the man who was buried inside her and clearly enjoying her body. He groaned a couple of times with pleasure and told her to smile, like she was enjoying his unwanted attention. Alex just gripped the blankets and stared back up at the ceiling as he abused her tits with his mouth and a hand. Then he speeded up, gripping the headboard with one hand and a big soft tit with the other. He was now thrusting hard and fast, and Alex groaned a little under his sustained sexual assault. To her surprise – and a little disgust – her body was reacting to his touch, and she couldn’t really fight it.
He now pulled her legs right up, her ankles close to his head, and fucked her even harder. That caused a little orgasm to escape, and he chuckled, “That’s it my friend, you enjoy your so-called ordeal.” He was now pounding her hard and with tears filling her eyes, she orgasmed again, much to his delight. He roughly turned her into the doggy position and continued to fuck her with some strength and determination. Her head was buried in the pillows, and she was now moaning as her body took control. The big one rolled down her body and exploded from her, causing Quinn to laugh and fuck her harder. “I knew it, you dirty little bitch. You’d fuck anyone and anything!” He exclaimed and he cussed loudly as he unexpectedly came deep inside her. Groaning he pulled from her and knelt, sweating and panting, then slapped her arse hard. “Good girl, That’s the first one, there will be other times I call upon you to keep our friendship good and solid. I’ll be looking forward to those.” He said and took a deep breath while Alex wiped her face on the pillows and said nothing. She watched in silence as he dressed, blew her a kiss and left.
After a few minutes, Alex rose from the bed, removed her stockings and suspender belt, and grabbed her dressing gown, heading for the bathrooms for a much-needed soak. “So, for now, you think I’m your beck and call girl, you bastard. But I’ll have your balls and you won’t fucking smile much then.” She lay in the bath and plotted his downfall and she suddenly realised how she could extract her revenge and she laughed loudly to herself. She splashed the water about and heard a soft knock at the door and she called out “Who is it?”
“It’s me, that dirty old landlord wants you to take a look at his arse! Say’s his bloody piles are playing him up, says this whole lockdown incident has set them off.” Wilson chuckled and Alex splashed the water with both hands and now grinned, she said quietly; “Get your black arse in here! I need you now!” He opened the door and stepped in smiling, pulling his jumper over his head. “Christ Alex, this is an unexpected pleasure, what’s up? Why are you so horny?” He pulled down his trouser and pants, kicking off his unlaced shoes, and stepped into the bath.
Alex knew she was seriously sexually aroused, and Wilson was the answer, well, his big black cock would certainly help! She pulled herself up and opened her legs, saying simply, “Fuck me good and hard big man!” He chuckled again and nodded “I certainly can do that baby sister.” And he did. The water poured over the side of the bath, causing a large puddle on the floor and Wilson pounded her, his big hands gripping the sides of the bath as she held onto his shoulders. They kissed passionately and anyone watching would have sworn on oath, that they could see sparks! Alex now enjoyed herself [as she usually did] and Wilson certainly knew how she liked to be fucked: hard, deep and fast. It was just minutes before Alex had a massive climax and almost screamed the small bathroom down but managed to clamp a hand over her mouth. Wilson was really surprised, “Christ Alex, You’re horny as a nymphomaniac’s convention!” She could only answer with a groan. They slipped from the bath – the water was now cold – and continued to fuck in the doggy position on the damp floor and Alex had another big orgasm which finished her.
Wilson was a sensitive lover and pulled from her, stroking her face, so an appreciative Alex turned and pushed his cock into her mouth and sucked hard until he ejaculated with some relief. She licked and cleaned his cock after swallowing every drop of his tasty seed. She leaned back against the bathtub and grinned, saying quietly to herself “The lady is bloody back! Fuck you Mcfarland or whatever your name is!” Wilson just had to smile and muttered; “Glad to be of service.” Alex grabbed him and the pair kissed again and again, with some real unbridled passion which even surprised them. They sat together, clutched in each other’s arms, gently kissing and whispering, until they heard Owen shouting for them. Jericho wanted a team meeting. Wilson rubbed his face and said quietly, “I would shout that I’m coming, but I already have!” They both laughed then saw the state of the bathroom, which made Alex giggle; the poor landlord wouldn’t be very happy with his guests now. First the bedroom and now the bathroom! She shrugged her shoulders and Wilson helped her up. He dressed whilst Alex threw on her dressing gown, kissed the big man again, and headed for her bedroom. She felt 100% better now and boy, was she going to really fuck bloody McFarlnad in the future. On that happy though, she dried herself and dressed, reapplying her makeup. Then headed downstairs, carefully avoiding the landlord’s quarters!
Jericho – quite grim faced – called the team together by the rear staircase and explained their very serious problem. “We’re now part of a historical incident and our names will become part of that incident. Especially Alex: the press will really play on the lone female doctor battling the deadly plague until they find out that Doctor Featherstone vanished in 1901! Then all hell will break loose. So, we have just two choices; jump immediately or stay and front it out. Unfortunately, we can’t really opt for the staying part because our current identities will be exposed. So, reluctantly, we need to jump.” Wilson nodded and ran a hand over his face; “What about Quinn? He knows exactly who we are and could sell his story for serious money, couldn’t he?”
Alex shook her head and smiled; “Come on big man, who the hell would believe him? Temporal Detectives working for God? Time travellers? Rogue time portals in old figurines? That’s the stuff of H.G. Well’s and the like; no respectable paper would risk their reputation printing stuff like that.” Jericho chuckled; “I think the lady has a very good point. Quinn McFarland is clearly on top of his game and his knowledge of how the afterlife processes work is brilliant. I think the angel will grab him with both hands when the time comes.” No-one could disagree with that deduction.
Owen
also chuckled; “And it would get her out of looking at the old landlords
‘Farmer Giles’.” There was a ripple of restrained laughter and the team headed
for their rooms. They needed to ensure that they left no traces of themselves
in the rooms. Stores certainly wouldn’t be able to clean up in here, but they
could pick up the big car parked in Pier Road without a problem. Jericho made
the call some minutes later and the team vanished.
7. SHED 13 - on Tuesday evening; 8th July 1958. PART 2.
Jericho sat on the crate and checked his mirror; “It’s about twenty minutes before Crabb and Chambers appear after their card game. We’ll sit and watch what transpires and if possible; stop them being taken back to 1344 or Edwardian times, whatever it needs we will do.” Owen was sitting by the cage door watching the entrance. “I wonder if the supposed ghost of Sir Robert Granger will put in an appearance. Maybe he had to take them with him for some reason.”
Wilson was laid on a big crate, staring up at the ceiling, hands behind head. “I was really surprised that Sir Ezra’s statuette of ‘Mahaka’ didn’t contain a time portal. Now I would have bet good money that it did.” Alex sitting at the end of his crate chuckled; “What I like, is how we solved the mystery of the broken figurines.“ They laughed as they all looked at Owen who just grunted; “Wasn’t my bloody fault that a rat ran over my foot as I lifted them out to check for time portals. It was a bloody accident and you lot know it.”
Jericho just smiled and re-checked his mirror. “Heads up people, Crabb & Chambers should be making an appearance any minute now and according to Pike they yell for help pretty quickly.” He eased off the crate and slapped Wilson’s leg. They gathered by the door and peered into the gloomy shed. “Here they come.” Jericho whispered and then everyone looked at each other. Three men walked slowly into the warehouse and stopped by some barrels, talking softly together. Owen whispered; “It’s bloody Daniel Pike! He lied about going to the toilet and he’s in here with them.”
A smiling Alex had to tap his arm; “Thanks for that Owen. We would have never guessed.” The mild sarcasm in her voice was obvious. Owen just ignored her, and the team watched carefully as Pike pulled the lid off a barrel quite easily. He began to hand out clothing to the other two men. Wilson lowered his mirror; “That clothing is from 1895 to 1904, they must have stored it before tonight.” Owen jabbed Alex gently; “I notice you’re not sarcastic when the big man’s obvious!” Jericho just waved them to silence and watched as Crabb and Chambers changed into their Edwardian costumes. The three men shook hands all round and Pike walked slowly back to the entrance, constantly checking his watch. He stood by the light switches and checked his watch again.
“Wilson and Owen, get ready to log where those two jumps to and follow. Set your mirrors.” Jericho whispered and checked his own mirror. That’s when Owen gestured rapidly toward the big window and everyone watched as the figure appeared from it, walking slowly and checking his fob watch. It was Sir Robert Granger. Owen rubbed his chin; “Doesn’t that fucker look familiar to anyone?” Nobody thought so because of the semi-darkness in the shed. “I mean the way he walks and that….” Owen added and then was interrupted by a very annoyed Jericho.
Jericho slapped a hand over his face and hissed; “Bollocks! How did we miss a fucking Jerusalem Mirror set in a window!” They watched as Sir Robert joined the two men and shook hands. The team couldn’t make out the whispered conversation between them and Sir Robert signaled to Pike who slammed off the lights and started to shout at the top of his voice. “The bastard could win an Oscar for this performance.” Muttered Wilson as a bright light suddenly appeared around the three men, and they were gone. Alex turned to see that both Wilson and Owen were also gone. She gripped Jericho’s arm; “Have we got the time and place?” Jericho nodded and almost smiled; “Yeah, Shed 13 in 2017 or rather what’s standing in its place. So why the hell are they dressed up in bloody Edwardian clothes?
He checked the big window with his mirror and sighed; “No bloody Jerusalem Mirror in the window; so, Sir Robert must have the time device on him.” They watched as several men came running into the shed shouting for Crabb and Chambers, being led by Daniel Pike who was the loudest. “Let’s go Alex.” Jericho muttered and the pair vanished.
8. GRANGER HOUSE; ROYAL ALBERT DOCK, LONDON. Friday July 14th, 2017.
Owen sat in the rear seats with Alex, his legs up and mirror on his knees, he stared up at the block of flats and had to smile; “Apparently a certain Robert Granger owns apartment 13 which overlooks the water. Well, he actually owns all the apartments because he owns the company that built them. The rest are rented out to bankers, lawyers, architects, and a couple of doctors. They’re so expensive only professionals can afford them.” Alex eased back in her seat; she loved this big dark Japanese SUV because of the space, and she particularly liked the rear seat DVD & TV players. Wilson – sitting behind the wheel – really loved driving it and no-one else would be allowed a turn.
Jericho sipped his coffee from ‘Costa’s’ and stared about the new ‘docks’; “Sweet Jesus, can you imagine what those Dockers in the café would say if you showed them all this; some of the most sought after and expensive real estate in London.” Wilson nodded and drained his coffee cup; he was having a good day so far. A decent vehicle to drive and proper coffee to drink; all that was needed now was to collar Sir Robert and disable his time device. Oh, and send the bugger back to his own time so that his soul could be collected when the time came – well before he faked his own death – and maybe even prevent Dakin being buried alive.
“Operations informed us that there was breach of the timeline from this time and place back to August 9th in 1912 by two humans and I’m guessing that was Crabb and Chambers. But I wonder what they are doing back there.” Jericho finished his coffee and pushed the cup into the ‘Tesco’ carrier bag at his feet.
Old Joe of Supplies had handed to them for their rubbish. “Don’t leave it like a bleeding pigsty.” He had muttered, handing the keys to Wilson who looked delighted with the team’s new transport. Owen looked up from his mirror; “August 1912 was the month after Sir Robert was supposed to have died and would probably have been the time his bent funeral was carried out.”
Jericho
rubbed his chin; “Why fake his death back then? He could have easily continued
to travel between the two time zones, so why close his life back in 1912?”
Wilson nodded; “There must be a very good reason to do that. He clearly has an ‘open’ time portal since he’s jumped to 1958, 1912 and 2017.” Jericho nodded slowly and wondered if Crabb & Chambers had arranged the switch which would leave Dakin to die; buried alive by mistake. Or was it a mistake? He rubbed his chin again and sat up as Alex tapped her mirror and sounded quite surprised; “Getting out of the Black Bentley, the chauffer opening the rear door; it’s John Crabb.”
“Well, we now know that he’s still with us and not dead of the bleeding plague!” Owen said softly and everyone stared at the passenger who straightened his very expensive suit and headed quickly for the apartment block. “Bloody Wolfgang Leitcher!” Jericho almost spat the words out. They watched in silence as their archenemy disappeared inside. Jericho slowly opened the car door but stopped when Alex said quietly; “There’s someone else in the car Jericho, I can’t get a fix on him…wait…. Got him!” She lowered her mirror and almost whispered; “Sweet Jesus! It’s young Wolfe from the old music shop, bloody Wolfgang’s great grandson! He’s now a young man.”
Jericho sat back and stared at the big expensive car and sighed; “So now that old bastard has dragged his great grandson into his evil plans. Why am I surprised by that?” He slapped the dashboard and sighed, then turned to Alex; “I take it this is his ordained time and place? We met him as a boy back in 1939 so it should be.” Alex nodded: he certainly belonged in this time. “According to Human Records he simply vanishes from the timeline in 1951 and misses his departure date in 2015. Now we know why.”
Owen looked up from his mirror; “Bloody operations has assigned us the case should you wonder.” Wilson snatched up his mirror: “Heads up people, Operations report a breech in the timeline from this very time and place back to 1340AD. To the city of Chennai in India and I’m guessing it’s Wolfgang and Grainger.”
Jericho cussed as the big car pulled away with young Wolfgang sitting reading a newspaper in the rear. “There’s an enormous connection here with medieval India and centres on those damn antiques back in Shed 13. There has to be something really important in those crates if Wolfgang is involved. We need to find out what before we take another step.” He pulled out his mirror; “Alex and Owen go back to Shed 13, just after we left and after the mob has given up searching for Crabb & Chambers. Check to see if the statues in the crates are genuine; especially the ‘Mahaka’ one.”
Wilson lowered his mirror; “The witness to the ‘ghost’ walking through the glass window, a certain Freddie Smith is from that era. I suspect he was the gullible witness who would add credence to the story. But why expose themselves like that and why at that time?” Jericho slapped the dashboard in a rare show of frustration and a little anger. “What was stored in Shed 13 at the time? “
Owen groaned; “The bloody Indian objects of Sir Ezra; Sir Robert Granger was heavily involved with the Indian sub-continent in his business life and probably in his personal life. He would have heard all about the statuette of ‘Mahaka’ and what happened to its previous owners. Like us he would have believed it contained a time portal, so he went after it. But who would Custom’s and the Dock authorities allow to examine the crates and the secure area before their owner turned up. The damn police on a missing person’s job and some paranormal investigators to pour water on the ghost stories that were causing problems with the workforce; that’s who!”
Alex leaned back and sighed; “The only fly in the ointment was that we turned up and not some paranormal amateurs who would have fallen for their tricks quite easily; not knowing that time portals exist.”
“Come on, let’s have a look what’s really in those crates.” Owen muttered and the pair was gone in an instant. Jericho slapped Wilson’s arm: “Come on, let’s see where young Wolfgang and Crabb are headed.” Wilson started the SUV and turned down the estate road, he could see the Bentley at the traffic lights ahead. They followed for some minutes before the Bentley parked outside a derelict, large Victorian Villa in Eastham. They watched as young Wolfgang easily climbed the small wooden and wire fence and disappeared into the overgrown gardens. “Due to be demolished and modern flats erected in 2019 according to Human Records.” Jericho lowered his mirror and stared at the building. “Let’s find out what’s so interesting about this old place to time-travellers.” They eased from the SUV and walked down the side of the property with Wilson easily pulling back some of the pitiful fence to allow them entry.
The grand old building was really no more than a shell: the fire that consumed the place must have been fierce and unrelenting. There was very little of the interior remaining and all the top floors were gone. Jericho consulted his mirror and didn’t smile: “In what would have been the rear gardens there’s a statue and it contains a linked time portal. Let’s take a look since young Wolfgang has obviously just used it. Operations has just flagged a jump by one human from this time and place, again to India in 1340AD.”
They walked carefully through the remains of the building and into the very overgrown gardens, following the signal on Jericho’s mirror, stopping before a life-sized statue of General Gordon. “Shall we see where he’s disappeared to?” Jericho said softly.
Then he stopped and a strange look swept across his face, he spoke quietly to Wilson; “Now that the junior staff are away, I need to tell you something about Quinn McFarland, do you remember when he was first mentioned I said that I knew about a certain Quinn Mcfarland?”
Wilson nodded slowly; he did indeed remember that. “When Owen checked him, he came up legitimate. I take it you know why that happened?”
Wilson nodded again and almost smiled; “When agents are undercover, Operations upload their cover stories and identities so that other agents don’t blow their cover when they’re checked with our mirrors. The last time we blew someone’s cover was with Inspector Harry Hadden.” [See episode; ‘Alexandra, Harry, Tess and Lisa too….’
Jericho nodded; “I have just realised who McFarland is: Inspector Ray Gains from team 46, For some reason, bloody Operations have placed three teams on the same case, unknown to each other, with one team playing the protagonists. Can you recall the last time that was done?”
Wilson stopped walking and didn’t look happy. “When operations suspect’s a member of a team has gone rogue and set up for themselves. A rotten apple in the barrel.” Jericho nodded and rubbed his chin; “Except we don’t know which team is investigating which team’s rotten apple. The Inspector was giving us a quiet ‘heads-up’ when he spoke in the pub about working for God, time-travel and knowing about Alex and me. That means he must be here investigating another team or members of that team and I strongly suspect it isn’t us. There are members from a third team here and they’re probably bent as a corkscrew!”
Wilson shook his head and muttered; “Fuck!” a couple of times. He then said softly; “It’s normally kept between the Inspectors, so you shouldn’t really have told me.”
Jericho smiled; “Big man, you couldn’t be a rotten apple if you were left in the sun for a year!” Jericho smiled a little: “Team 46 has Raymond Gains as the Inspector, a certain young Lesley Janski as the Constable with sergeant Maggie Devon. The trainee is a fellow called Frank Washington. According to Operations the team is on assignment to London in 1958.”
Chuckling they headed into the time portal. Jericho stopped suddenly and checked his mirror. “What is it?” Wilson asked.
9. SHED 13 - on Tuesday evening; 8th July 1958. PART 3.
Alex stood by the cage door and watched the lone policeman pacing the entrance to Shed 13. He looked thoroughly bored and smoked at regular intervals. She turned to Owen who was examining the remains of the two statues he had accidently broken earlier. He looked up and smiled with some relief; “Both fakes; made in bloody 1956 in a New Delhi sweatshop.” He moved onto the next pair and ran his mirror over them and rubbed his chin in surprise; “Same again, bloody fakes. Good copies but fakes nevertheless.”
Alex folded her arms and whispered; “They must be good fakes if they fooled Sir Ezra, isn’t he supposed to be some kind of expert on ancient Indian artifacts?” Owen nodded and moved onto the crate containing the figurine of Madāsura and looked puzzled as he ran his mirror over it. “Sweet Jesus, another bloody fake! I thought this one would be genuine because of the story that Sir Ezra talked about finding the damn thing. I’m quite disappointed; I loved that story.”
Alex checked her mirror and the police guard again and had to smile; he was relieving himself against the shed doors! “What about the statuette of Mahaka, the one we thought contained the time portal?” Owen lowered his mirror; “The big man checked that already, didn’t he?” Alex nodded and stared at her mirror. “So, all the objects that Sir Ezra brought back from India are fakes?” Owen nodded, then cussed softly; “I had better check to see if Mahaka is a fake.” He ran his mirror over the little statue and stared at Alex who saw the look on his face. “What is it?” she whispered.
“It’s not fake; made in medieval times about the 1340’s or 1350’s. It’s quite genuine and worth a packet of money. But the real surprise is that it was reported stolen from some big Hindu temple in 1912 and never recovered until 2017 when it was handed back to the Indian Government and returned to the temple after being missing for over a hundred years.”
Alex lowered her mirror; “Who returned it?” she asked, and Owen held up both hands and said quietly; “A certain Robert Granger who is shown in 2017 as a philanthropist and benevolent millionaire. He claimed he purchased it in good faith and then realised it was stolen and so returned it. Apparently, he’s due a Knighthood for his good deeds.”
“Now that doesn’t make bloody sense, why steal the damn thing in 1912 only to return it in 2017?” Alex asked and Owen just shrugged his shoulders; he didn’t know. Owen sat on a big crate and swung his legs; “Well, I think we have everything Jericho will want, so shall we jump back?” then saw that Alex was staring between his legs. “What is it?” he asked checking the zipper on his trousers.
Alex gestured to the crate he was perched on; “That’s also marked for Sir Ezra Byron, do you think we should take a look?” Owen slid from the crate and read the label on the side. It was marked ‘Fragile’ several times. He tapped the big yellow label stuck on the lid. “According to this, the crate and its contents have been passed by Custom’s for onward shipment to Sir Ezra.”
“That’s odd, isn’t it? I thought only stuff that was awaiting Customs clearance was kept in here. Who’s cleared it for removal?” Alex said a little intrigued. Owen read the label carefully and looked up; he didn’t smile. “A certain Officer called Graham Venture; he has cleared it.”
Alex picked up the crowbar and handed it to Owen with a smile, saying softly; “Don’t make too much bleeding noise!” Owen grunted a few times but had the lid off and both Alex and he shifted the packing straw and found a canvas sheet wrapped tightly around something. They managed to lift it a little and remove a portion of the canvas wrap. They both looked at each other; it was a golden bust of a very handsome young man.
“I think that is a bust of Alexander the Great.” She said quietly and held her mirror over it and nodded; “Bloody hell Owen, it’s genuine, made in the great man’s lifetime from gold and the eyes are two precious gems worth a bloody fortune on their own. In this time and place [the 1950’s] it would be worth over a million pounds. Can you imagine how much it would fetch in 2017?”
Owen rubbed his chin; “He invaded India in about 327BC didn’t he? I’m a bit hazy with my history of the great man. But he certainly was in India, and I wonder where Sir Ezra nicked this from.” Alex smiled; “Do you think that wonderful story about the ruined temple, the cave of skeletons and the golden object was almost true? Except that he found this and not bleeding Madāsura.” She lowered her mirror and smiled; “It is almost priceless and quite beautiful. The bloody Indian Government would never have let Sir Ezra remove it legally; hence the crate is marked ‘miscellaneous objects’ and a bent Custom’s officer has marked it up to go. I wonder how much his share is.”
“Quite a considerable sum of money for these times Miss Alexandra. Enough to ensure my future descendants a life of wealth and happiness, not to mention the fun of travelling the world I will have.” Graham Venture stood by the cage door and gestured with the large automatic pistol to the crate, adding; “Please replace it and the lid thank you Owen.”
Graham smiled; “Oh and please drop your mirrors in there too without trying to operate the stun option on them. I’m very quick with this pistol and would kill you as you operated it. The darkness of real death is not a pleasant place to end up Miss Alexandra as well you know.” He gestured to the crate again and smiled. They both heard the safety on the pistol click off. Alex let her mirror drop into the straw filled crate and Owen slowly removed his and placed it inside. “Now close the lid down please.” Graham smiled and with his free hand, pulled an exquisite little fob watch on a gold chain from his jacket pocket. “We’re going on a little trip my friends. I hope you like sunshine.” He operated his time device and was gone, taking Alex and Owen with him.
Jericho’s mirror buzzed loudly as they stood in front of the statue, and he was quite grim faced and spoke closely with Wilson; “Both Alex’s and Owen’s mirrors have gone offline and there’s been a breach of the timeline from July 1958. From exactly the same time and place I sent them back too. Except three humans have jumped back to India in 1340AD. To the Sultanate of Chennai.”
Wilson groaned; “I don’t think they went voluntarily if their mirrors are still in 1958.” Jericho nodded; “I’m afraid young Wolfgang will have to wait. Let’s go. We need to contact supplies urgently.”
10. ‘THE BLACK HOLE OF CHENNAI?’ – 1340AD.
Graham smiled through the small wicket on the heavy door and scratched his head a little. “You’re in the Kingdom or Sultanate of Tamil Nadu in the year 1340AD. This city is called Chennai and you are in the dungeon of prince Ulugh Khan – a good friend of mine – I’ve handed you over to him as a present and I have no doubt Alex that he’ll keep you for himself. But I think Owen will end up at the slave auctions. There are plenty of rich men that like fair skinned young men and he’ll fetch a good price I suspect.” Alex sat on the stone floor and folded her arms; “Just who the hell are you?” she said with some anger. It didn’t help her mood that she and Owen were both stark naked, having been stripped of everything before being thrown into the bare room.
Graham chuckled; “I was formally the Temporal Detective Sergeant on team nine under that idiot Richard Quinn, he never suspected a bloody thing until it was too late. No-one can trace me now; my mirror is now somewhere safe, and they can’t trace it whereabouts. The only clue they will have is the year I jumped to here and then, that won’t help them too much because I will be moving on. Finding a time portal device that can’t be traced is a big bonus for someone like me. I do hope you enjoy your new lives. By the way, the city has the Black Death and thousands have died; so, slaves fetch quite a price here at the moment.”
Alex stood and walked to the door; “You replaced Sir
Ezra’s objects with fakes, didn’t you? During the Custom checks I suspect. That
way you could keep them for yourself and sell them in the 21st
century for massive sums of money. But you needed an accomplice; who is that
may I ask?”
“A very talented individual who could fool even the great Jericho Tibbs; you will never work out who it is my dear. Not if you had all the time in the world!” he chuckled at his own pun and slammed the wicket gate shut. She could hear his footsteps fading away and absolute silence returned. Well until Owen sighed loudly; “Do you think this is the original black hole of Chennai?”
Alex sat back down and shook her head; “That was in Calcutta apparently and this one has a nice window up there.” She gestured to the skylight; some thirty feet above their heads. “A bloody fly couldn’t climb these walls.” She added and leaned back. Sitting with a bare arse on a stone floor was not comfortable and certainly didn’t improve her mood. She knew they been stripped to hide their true origins and slaves were normally bought and sold naked. The buyer needed to see what they were paying good money for.
“This place is called Madras when the British rule it.” Owen added and Alex sighed; “Trust you to think of bloody curry.” He didn’t smile. “So, if the bloody plague doesn’t get us, it’s slavery and having my bum poked.” Owen said and almost laughed. Alex ran her fingers through her hair and didn’t really relish being the sex slave of some old Indian prince even if her life in his harem would be pretty comfortable compared to where young Owen could end up. “Maybe you could use your immense charms on the guard?” Owen suggested, staring at the strange writing scratched on the walls.
As if on cue, the door was being unlocked and they both stood. A big black man appeared in dirty white shirt and trousers. He placed a wooden tray down which appeared to contain fruit, bread and water. He grinned and gestured to it saying something in a language they couldn’t understand which surprised them as Temporal detectives could speak every human language.
Alex smiled and walked slowly to the tray and bent over it, making sure he was getting a good view of what was on offer and was now really smiling at the man, who ignored her and grinned at Owen. She carried the tray back to him and smiled with some joy; “Over to you our little honey trap.”
Owen just groaned. The big Blackman stood – hands on hips – and started to laugh. They both stared at him and finally Alex shouted at him to ‘shut the fuck up!’. He stopped laughing and smiled, rubbing his chin. “Sorry about that, but I have a real strange sense of humour, apparently! When I spoke gibberish, I thought you’d catch on.” [All temporal detectives can speak and understand all human languages, so the pair should have caught on that the man was fooling them and knew who they were.]
He turned and checked outside the door and then pulled his mirror from under his waistband. “Trainee Constable Frank Washington from Team 46, we’ve had that bastard Graham under investigation for some time. He’s corrupted another team member too, team 9‘s Constable: John Crabb, but he can wait. I take it you want a quick trip back to your HQ – the lighthouse – to get some clothes?”
Alex nodded slowly and Owen just had to laugh. Frank operated his mirror, and the dismal cell was empty, well, except a fat grey rat who scuttled across the floor and enjoyed its free meal from the tray.
Jericho and Wilson walked ahead with Wilson carrying the parasol and holding it over Jericho’s head – he was playing a negro servant of a rich merchant – with Alex and Jackie walking behind playing his concubines. Supplies had provided six rough looking guards to add authenticity to the disguises. They passed through the marble pillars and stood in the small greeting room of the palace. Several wealthy men and their servants all stood quietly watching Jericho and his team. They paid particular attention to his beautiful concubines. That’s when an elderly man dressed in immaculate silks and accompanied by two ‘secretaries’ slowly approached Jericho and they both bowed to each other. The old man smiled broadly – and in English – welcomed Jericho back to the palace.
“This is Imran, who is an adviser to the Sultan and a human agent of Stella’s [Temporal Detective Inspector Stella Longstreet] for this time and place.” Jericho quietly informed his crew, and they followed Imran to a quiet corner. “Your man Graham has fled the city. I believe he left with a silk merchants caravan at dawn this morning. That particular caravan is heading for China down the old silk road. He’s accompanied by a stranger to the city; an old man who must come from Europe. My spies tell me that the old man is clever and cunning. Also merciless, he had a slave killed for eating scraps from his plate without permission!
The pair pay a great deal of attention to a wooden
crate which is carried by a camel guarded by four Ethiopians [well respected
and feared mercenaries in this time and place] and they allow no-one near it.
What it contains is unknown.” Imran spoke softly and tapped Jericho’s arm with
a smile. He bowed again and walked away.
Jericho discretely checked his mirror and sighed; “Operational Intelligence states the last sighting of Wolfgang Leitcher was in India in 1410AD but that he breached the timeline and appeared in 1340AD just two days ago in local time. Now that’s no co- incidence!” [ As you probably know: Wolfgang Leitcher is a notorious time-traveller and missing soul who Team 74 has encountered on several occasions. He is a dedicated follower of the Dark Prince and if Jericho wanted a ‘nemesis’ Wolfgang would fit the bill. He is clever and cunning and definitely evil.]
Alex nodded; “Graham told us he had an accomplice that was – apparently – a clever bastard. Old Wolfgang would certainly fit that description and Team 9 is bound to have encountered him on their missions. We can’t be the only bloody team he annoys!”
“He must have corrupted Graham and John Crabb and turned their heads to his evil plans. Their Inspector is currently suspended pending investigation to discover just how deep the corruption goes.” Jericho sighed: it was very black day for the department but not rare he sadly admitted too himself. The temptations offered by unlimited time travel could overwhelm the most honest and upright operative.
Jackie rubbed her chin; “So, Graham and old Wolfgang concocted this whole thing and talked Crabb into joining. Two bad apples in Team 9 and Operations sends two teams to investigate, except they don’t tell one team what is actually happening and that’s us dumb buggers!”
Wilson nodded; “Team 46 under Inspector Ray Gains were the actual investigators and I suspect we were sent – unknowingly – to provide cover for them. Graham would be deeply suspicious if no team arrived to investigate the sightings and disappearances and since we didn’t actually know, we played along perfectly, doing everything he knew we should do. So, he carried on in the knowledge - so he thought – that his corruption hadn’t been uncovered.”
“His [Graham’s] Inspector is really only guilty of loyalty, and I suspect that Angel Margret will be quite lenient with him.” Jericho said quietly and they headed for the grand doors. They had a caravan to catch up with. They were up against the clock on this one: the timeline was already altering to accept the changes that Graham had created.
“If old Wolfgang is he’s partner then why would they go through with all the palaver of a caravan and travel for months, when they can use their time portals and be gone in instance?” Jackie asked and they all stared at her. Jericho slowly nodded; “Now that my girl, is a very good question and the answer is Operations tracking their time jumps. This way Operations would be blind to their movements, and they can appear anywhere. So, a little discomfort is nothing to gain anonymity from us.”
Jackie nodded her agreement as Alex smiled at her. “Was that bloody obvious to everyone else?” A disgruntled Jackie muttered.
11. GOOD STORM OR BAD STORM? CHENNAI 1340AD.
“Medieval ships are not bloody comfortable or safe!” Alex declared as the small ship - carried by a gentle wind – moved slowly along the coastline. Jericho had rented the whole ship from a very nice man with few teeth and appeared never to have eaten in his life. Everyone was concerned that if the wind grew stronger, Ahmed would fly off. He was thin, yet apparently ate like a pig and was deceptively strong. The team had watched him hauling sails and raising the anchor with little effort. He also really liked Jericho’s ‘concubine’ Jackie. He smiled at her constantly – as did his two crewmen – as the little craft progressed. There were several other ships heading north, hugging the coastline and Jericho was most interested in the small craft about half a mile ahead of them. Apparently two ‘white’ men had hired the craft to take them to Kolkata [it would become Calcutta under British rule] up north. Wilson had discovered that the ‘white’ men was carrying a single large crate and were accompanied by four ‘black’ men who were armed. He had been given the information by another African man who sold slaves in the city market. His brother was ‘skipper’ of a small ship that carried slaves up north: to Kolkata and they [the white men] had – very generously – hired it. Apparently, they were travelling to meet their ‘business partner’ in the city.
[Note: Slavery apparently still exists in India to this day! India accounts for almost 8 million or 20% of modern ‘slaves’, making it the largest absolute contributor to modern slavery. This typically involves types of forced labor such as bonded labour, child labour, forced marriage, human trafficking, forced begging, and sexual slavery. From Wikipedia.]
A caravan had left the city at dawn – as planned – but Jericho knew it was just a diversion. The pair [Graham & Wolfgang] knew that travelling through medieval India with a horse caravan would attract gangs of bandits, be incredibly slow and time consuming: they were clever enough to make some other arrangements. Jericho had a strong suspicion that it was John Crabb and young Wolfgang that they sailed to meet.
The time aboard the little ship passed slowly and
the team all noticed the slow change in the weather. Jackie consulted her
mirror and called the team together in the covered bow. “According to Human
Records, there is a bloody storm about to run down this part of the coast. They
don’t actually give its strength, just to say it sinks a few ships and kills
several sailors. Not a bloody lot of help.”
Not an hour later, the wind had grown considerably in strength and rain was now coming down like it was Monsoon Season.
Ahmed shouted that he was heading for the shore and Jericho – hanging onto the small mast – could only agree with that plan of action. It was a fight to turn the little boat – now rolling like a can thrown down a waterfall – towards land. The boat didn’t make it. She filled with water and quickly began to break up in the driving wind and strong waves that pounded it. With great reluctance Jericho had to operate his mirror and the team found themselves on the beach, huddled in the remains of a large wooden ship that had suffered a similar fate years ago and had washed up on the shore. They hid beneath its bleached timbers and waited the storm out. A sad Jackie announced that Ahmed and his happy crew had their souls collected by Yoki the collector.
When morning came the team walked the beach, checking with their mirrors and found some boat wreckage and one body. It wasn’t anyone from the crew of their boat. By the afternoon they had found another two bodies, again not from their boat. But both were Black men and Jackie checked the bodies. “Both originate from Ethiopia and were from this time and place. They both died early but changed the timeline very little. They must be from Graham & Wolfgang’s boat. It appears to have suffered the same fate as ours in the storm.”
Jericho stood arms folded watching the now calm sea. “Check on Graham?” he said quietly, and Jackie sighed; “He’s shown as a missing soul now. He would have been out of his ordained time period and IF he died in the wreck, then that makes sense. But why didn’t he operate his mirror like us and escape….” Jackie stopped talking and lowered her mirror. “Oh, shit, the idiot told us when we were in that hole, that he had hidden his mirror somewhere safe. He didn’t have his bloody mirror on him!”
Wilson nodded; “Yeah, but if he had Wolfgang with him, Wolfgang has a time device – we certainly know that – and surely they would have jumped using that?” Alex was already using her mirror and she didn’t look happy. “Operations informs me that there were no breeches of the timeline during the storm. No time device was operated, but it shows we used our mirrors to change position at the same time and place.”
Everyone now stared out at sea: what had happened on Grahams & Wolfgang’s ship to prevent them using a time portal device?
Jericho
started to walk slowly along the beach, arms behind his back and thinking to
himself. He stopped and didn’t look happy.
“Well, there’s not much more we can do until John Crabb operates his mirror and we can get back on his trail. I wonder what he will do when they don’t show, and the word arrives that the ship was sunk with no survivors? It also means that the crate is at the bottom of the sea with its time portal and the golden head of King Alexander. John Crabb is now without any benefits that they would have brought, and his bent partner is gone too.”
Wilson nodded his agreement; “I’d still bet that slippery bastard Wolfgang found a way out. He has more lives than two cats.”
Jericho sighed and pulled out his mirror; “I’ll inform Operational Control to pass on what happened to Inspector Gains and his team. Until John Crabb breaks cover, we cannot do any more.”
The sun was starting set and Jackie groaned; “My stomach thinks my throat has been cut! I haven’t eaten for hours!” Everyone chuckled at that, and Jericho operated his mirror, leaving the beach lonely and quiet as night fell.
The two Temporal Detective teams met up at the lighthouse for dinner. Inspector Gains was explaining his assignment to team 74, he started with Graham & Crabb’s Inspector. “They fooled him completely; he really had no idea what he was up too, and I’m really surprised that Angel Margret hasn’t demoted him. But I’m getting ahead of myself. I get a visit from James the Knight who tells me I need to investigate another team – one of the best – team nine and was to design a mission to draw a traitor out. So, I sent Lesley [Willy Weaver] ahead to 1958 to gain a job on the docks. Then I had words with my human agent for the time and place; Sir Ezra Byron who would supply some of the props and play a real shady character. He actually didn’t have to act much; you’ve met him for yourselves! Inspector Richard Quinn – his Inspector – simply didn’t believe that Graham was bent and so was stood down from the case and I was sent with team 46. I had no idea they had sent another team – as backup I suppose – until I met you Jericho and I knew what was going on then. I knew you would catch on [indicating to Jericho] when I spouted about God’s Detectives!”
Inspector Raymond Gains sipped his whisky and continued; “So I set up a sting for Graham, something I knew the bastard couldn’t refuse. He was undercover at the time working on the so-called apparition of a certain Sir Robert Granger at the docks, who, of course, didn’t have a clue that three team of Temporal detectives were actually on his case! me. But Graham had never met the Inspector of Team 46 or any of its motley crew so that went well. Sir Ezra made contact and played the desperate character trying to get his ancient goods into the country under the radar. Graham – playing a Custom’s official – went for it. We staged the same play about Sir Robert for him as we did for you. So, I knew he would contact the supposed time traveler and sure enough he did. Even if he checked us with his mirror, we would come up legitimate. Then of course you arrived to add credence to the time travelling Sir Robert. Graham could have become very suspicious if no-one arrived to check out the story.” He accepted a refill from Owen and stared at the fireplace.
“So there where now three temporal detective teams operating. Graham had command of number nine since the Inspector had been – temporarily apparently – reassigned by Angel Margret to some tasks she wanted completed. So, the field was open for him and he took it. Little did he know there were another two teams on scene, one apparently investigating and the other[us] playing the naughty guys. The only thing we didn’t expect was the death of one of his minions from this time and place; Michael bloody Chambers, who had been sent back to Chennai in 1340AD to set up the finding of the golden Alexander bust for Sir Ezra to discover in 1958. The man contracted Bubonic Plague and returned back to 1958 looking for treatment. But died before he could even get out of the secure area of Shed 13. That’s when my plan went a little astray. Graham panicked a little and decided to grab what he could and jump back to 1340AD. So, he jumped to the storage area and was surprised to find two temporal detectives from the investigating team there. He had no choice, so he forced them to accompany him back to Chennai whilst his other minion John Crabb, grabbed the items and followed, using the rogue time portal that Graham had discovered and kept for himself. But there I was one step ahead of him. Frank Washington my trainee had already gained a job back there, looking after the Sultan’s bloody prisoners! Now that was a stroke of luck, wasn’t it?”
Alex and Owen both said, “Yes it bloody was!” together and laughed. Ray continued; “Lesley [now back as a woman] found John Crabb in the Denmark Arms in Eastham High Street. Crabb was having one last drink before spending the rest of his life in luxury – so he thought – in Chennai. Well, you’ve not seen what Lesley looks like when not disguised as a young man and Crabb couldn’t resist and that was his downfall. They had a wonderful night on the town up west and Lesley discovered that Crabb had the bloody objects in his flat in the Victoria Dock Road. He didn’t have them for long. As you know, Crabb is doing fifty years in quarantine for his betrayal and breaking his oath before being allowed to jump back into the human lifecycle. Can you imagine; two rotten apples in the same barrel? But Graham was the brains behind the whole operation, that’s a fact.”
Alex really smiled and snapped her fingers: “That’s what bugged me about young Willy and why he was so similar to our Owen!”
“So, Graham was going to ship fakes to Sir Ezra, but our Owen fucked that up by breaking a pair?” Wilson asked and Ray Gains nodded; “Bit of luck that, otherwise Graham’s plan may well have worked despite Chambers dying of the bloody plague!” Jericho smiled; “Just out of interest, we know you’re the Inspector of Team 46 and young Lesley is the constable, who was your sergeant?” Ray smiled broadly; “You’ve met my sergeant all right. she played a waitress in the dockside café!” Team 74 had to laugh at that, and no-one noticed how Alex stared at the man, plotting.
But Jericho wondered who the pair [Graham & Wolfgang] were on route to meet if John Crabb had already been apprehended? Unless it was young Wolfgang; that would have to remain a mystery.
12. A TEAM REUNION.
“He should be here in about an hour, so I have time to warm up.” Alex giggled to herself, she had invited young Lesley [who played ‘Willy Weaver’] over for a re-union. Strangely enough Ray the Inspector wasn’t invited by her! The team had agreed to meet him at the Royal Standard pub and the landlord was most reluctant to rent them rooms and they had to pay twice the going rate to get them!
Alex checked the corridor – twice – before leaving her room and knocking softly on the boy’s door and Owen opened it with a broad grin on his face. She slipped past him, and Wilson handed her a glass of brandy which she slipped slowly. The boy’s sat on the edge of the bed and Wilson raised his glass to her; “To our Alex and what we will receive!” Owen agreed with that and raised his glass too. Alex smiled and placed her glass on the empty mantelpiece, she walked slowly up and down the room a couple of times; using both hands to raise her long skirt a little each time. She stood before the pair and slowly pulled her skirt up, allowing her long legs to appear. She finally lifted the skirt and frilly petticoats up to her waist and the boys groaned with pleasure at the sight of creamy white, silk French knickers and stockings. She turned and bent over a little, legs a part.
Wilson finished his drink and placed the glass on the floor; he started to pull off his jacket, then his shoes. Owen quickly downed his drink and did the same. He pulled off his braces and dropped his trousers. He was kneeling before Alex in an instant as Wilson pulled off his trousers and gripped his already hard penis. Alex smiled at Owen; “I think it’s your turn to unwrap the presents.” Owen grinned; “Fuck yes, it is!” and his hands gently pulled her knickers slowly down and she kicked them away. His mouth was on her vagina, and she smiled at Wilson; “We only have about an hour darling.” He nodded and stood behind her; his big hands disappearing under her blouse and was delighted to find that she had removed her bra already. Alex slowly knelt on the floor with Owen’s mouth on her wet fanny and could feel his tongue probing her clitoris.
Owen lay under her as she leaned over him and felt Wilson’s eager tongue in her bum hole. Both men worked on her for a few minutes and then she told Owen to lay flat on his back. She quickly squatted over him and gripping his erection, guided it into her moist fanny. He pulled open her blouse and those magnificent breasts spilled out into his hands. Wilson dropped the little tube of ‘KY’ jelly after smearing Alex’s bum hole and his throbbing cock with some of the magic potion. He knelt behind Alex and guided to cock into her arse with some skill. Alex groaned and pushed back on him as Owen started to thrust upwards.
Wilson gripped her pale buttocks and thrust in time with Owen. Alex actually had to clamp a hand over her mouth as they fucked her relentlessly; she moaned and cussed a little. It didn’t take long before she had a couple of little squirts and moaned softly between her fingers. Owen was sucking hard on a nipple and squeezing the other tit quite hard. Wilson now pressed her right down on Owen and was kissing her neck and shoulders. She could feel every inch of their cocks in her body. She cussed and cum again, with both hands flat on the floor. She knew they wouldn’t last too long the first time and she was right; as usual!
Owen was first to explode inside her with lots of restrained cursing and groaning. She gripped his face and the pair kissed passionately with their tongues filling each other’s mouths. Wilson muttered something and then cussed out loud as he cum too and Alex felt every drop filling her back passage. She really did groan and the trio lay quietly together on the floor, exchanging kisses and whispering to each other. Wilson – still firmly embedded in her bum - checked his watch and sighed; “Jericho’s wants us in the lounge bar in twenty minutes to meet weird Willy.”
Alex managed to nod; “I’ll need to clean up first; I’m full of your juice you pair of naughty, dirty buggers!” Then she grinned, a wicked but happy little grin. “You’ve done so well, I won’t waste any.” She said quietly as they smiled at her. They all laughed and panting a little; came apart slowly. Alex rolled over and squatted; grabbing Wilson’s discarded glass and held her skirt up again. She held the class to her vagina and watched Owen’s cum drip in. She then groaned a little and held the glass close to her bum hole. She pushed down a little and Wilson’s cum ran from her twitching bum hole into the glass. Well pleased she raised the glass and giggled; “For what I did receive!” and slowly emptied the glass into her mouth, her tongue licking around inside to get every drop.
Wilson sighed with great pleasure; “You really are a dirty little whore underneath that wonderful lady’s exterior and boy; am I glad!” Owen chuckled and said simply; “Ditto big man.”
Owen peered out the door and gestured quickly to Alex to go. She kissed them both and – a little awkwardly – ran quietly across the corridor and into her room. She wanted a bath, but that was out the question, no time. So, she washed her well used parts and changed her underwear, then quickly checked, and touched up her make-up. She wanted to look nice for young Willy. He was going to discover that chasing ghosts had its perks!
And she would have her revenge on bent Temporal Detective Inspector Raymond Gains and his little blackmail scam. She would finish him and still keep her secrets safe. Now she did smile and anticipated Lesley’s [Weird Willy] arrival.
"A very complex mission
for Team 74. But they had succeeded in exposing two rotten apples in the
Temporal Department and thwarting their old adversary Wolfgang Leitcher’s plans:
yet again and they now wondered if their archenemy had – indeed – perished? Alex is now being blackmailed by an unsavoury Temporal Inspector but is already plotting her revenge: I think the money is on her!”
CHARACTERS
William
‘Weird Willy’ Weaver [the apparent Dock Office worker and part-time Paranormal
Investigator] was in fact Temporal Detective Lesley Janski under cover. Like
Owen, she could play a woman or a man with ease. Her and Owen have become quite
good friends and play chess together frequently.
Malcolm Jarvis [Docker] this big man worked the docks until his retirement in 1971. He died in 1977 after having a major stroke. He was survived by his widow and five children. His soul was collected and processed.
Frederick James Smith [Dock Office worker] left the docks in 1961 and opened a sweetshop in Brighton. It wasn’t successful and he turned to his hand to gardening and worked for the local council until his death in 1978. His soul was collected and Processed. It was quarantined for fifty human years for the murder of his roommate back in 1960. He was never prosecuted or served time for that act whilst alive.
Quinn MacFarland [ the apparent History teacher and part-time Paranormal Investigator] was in fact Temporal Detective Inspector Raymond Gains of Team 46. He still runs Team 46 to this day, and this wasn’t the first case of ‘rotten apples’ that he investigated despite being one himself! Just ask Alex!
Sir Robert Granger – the time traveling Edwardian – was most surprised when his posh apartment in 2017 was raided by Temporal Detectives from Team 46. He was returned to 1912, before his fake death, and lived the remainder of his life in his ordained time period. He died in 1951 and his soul was collected and processed. He received no quarantine for his time traveling activities and jumped immediately back into the human lifecycle.
John Crabb [the apparent Dock worker] was in fact a Temporal Detective from Team 9 who had gone ‘rogue’. Crabb was captured by Team 46 in 2017 and taken before a very unhappy Angel Margret. He was sentenced to fifty years in quarantine for his betrayal and breaking his oath, before being allowed to jump back into the human lifecycle.
Michael Edward Chambers [Dock worker] had been corrupted by Graham with the promise of money and believed he could have a great life time traveling. But back in 1340AD he contracted the ‘Black death’ and died before he could return to 1958AD for treatment. Crabb & Graham dumped his body in the shed in panic. Since he died outside his ordained time period, his soul was never recovered, and he’s shown as a missing soul.
Daniel Pike [Dock worker] was paid serious money for his part in the plans of Graham & Wolfgang, but he didn’t enjoy it for long. Christmas 1958, he staggered from the big Christmas party in the Queen Victoria pub and stepped straight in front of a cab. He was killed instantly, and his soul was collected and processed.
Sir Ezra Byron [the Archaeologist and dealer in antiquities] was a human agent for the Temporal Department and a real character. It appears that most of his outrageous ‘adventure yarns’ were – in the most part – actually true! In 1965 he was excavating a strange temple in the jungles of Vietnam when the Vietnam war caught up with him, Apparently the Vietcong were after him for stealing ‘their’ treasures and he vanished into the jungle: never to be seen or heard of again. His friends, family, and colleagues all believed he had been murdered and the body disposed of by the Vietcong. But his soul is missing, and Jericho has been assigned to the case. There is no resolution yet.
John David Dakin was never buried alive in the restored timeline but succumbed to the cancer he was suffering, just months after his ‘fake’ burial should have taken place. Ironically, he was buried just five plots down from the grave he would have ‘died’ in! His soul was now collected from his hospice bed and processed. He received fifty years quarantine for a couple of murders committed in his youth in Nottingham. He was never caught for them but the Duty death Angel – Francis – knew about it. He re-joined the Human Life Cycle in 1962.
Graham Venture [the apparent Custom’s officer] was the sergeant on Temporal Detectives Team 9 and with John Crabb from that team, hatched a plan to be rich and live in another time period. They though they knew how to ‘outsmart’ any Temporal teams set after them but was mistaken in that. It’s unknown if Graham perished in the storm at sea, but his soul is shown as missing and there is no trace – yet – in the human timeline. He remains high on the departments ‘most wanted’ listing until concrete proof that he perished, and his soul was lost to the darkness of real death, is found.
Professor Wolfgang Leitcher is reported to have drown in the storm, but Jericho remains cynical about that. But there have been no sightings of the man passed to Temporal Intelligence for some time. His soul remains missing: as it has been for some time.
Young Wolfgang Leitcher was never apprehended and his part in the plan was never uncovered, but it’s clear that he has followed in his great grandfathers footsteps and gone time travelling. Whether he is a follower of the Dark Prince is unknown. But his soul is posted as ‘missing’ and that concerns the temporal department.
Ahmed Mohamed [the boatman] was killed in the storm at sea – he was fated to do so; in the original timeline he was carrying cargo and not temporal detectives! – and his soul was collected and processed.
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