The Watcher
Earth & Space - The Republic of Ireland - 2011
The Cast
Janet Kilkenny, Mrs Kilkenny, Mr Kilkenny, Kean, Gobbler, Tray, Sonia, Mrs Farrelly, Samantha Smith, Professor Brad Foley
Janet Kilkenny woke up slumped in her chair. Oh crap, I’ve fallen asleep again, she thought, rubbing the muscles in the back of her neck. She opened the curtain to reveal a cold white blanket outside. Had nobody told the weather that spring was nearly here? Her mind wandered a little more before remembering what she’d been doing the night before.
She switched on the TV for the local news. There was nothing out of the ordinary. She wasn’t expecting anything, but worth checking. She rebooted her computer and started searching some of the more credible websites that watched out for these sorts of things. Nothing. She wondered if her ex-work colleagues had seen anything.
She sat back, recapping the events of the last few weeks. She needed to find out what it was she had been monitoring.
‘Janet!’
Oh crap, again. ‘Yes, Mother. I’m coming.’
Up until three months ago, CIA Technical Intelligence Officer Janet Kilkenny was on loan to NASA studying NEOs—Near-Earth Objects. She was the lead on the LINEAR project, a NASA and Lincoln University joint venture. The LINEAR (Lincoln Near-Earth Asteroid Research) project’s goal was to discover and track NEOs to see if their orbits were a threat to Earth.
At thirty-five she was flying high in the Agency and was expected to be the next Assistant to the Deputy Director of CIA for Science & Technology. Then her world had been turned upside down when doctors diagnosed her mother with Acute Myeloid Leukaemia, a particularly aggressive blood cancer. The prognosis was not good. She had made the decision to go back to Ireland to spend what time she could with her parents. The outgoing Assistant to the Deputy Director of CIA for Science & Technology had told her he would hold off on retiring until she was ready to take the helm.
Janet’s parents had moved to the USA a couple of years before she was born, but four years ago they made the decision to retire in Ireland. Although Janet had never lived there, she’d grown up in a small, tight-knit Irish community and had an excellent Irish accent when appropriate. On the whole, her mother was in good spirits, but occasionally her reaction to the chemotherapy left her entirely wasted.
‘Hi, Mum, how are you feeling today, my darling?’
‘Not too bad, thanks.’ It was her mother’s stock reply, however she felt. ‘Where’s your father?’
‘I’m here, sweetheart.’ Janet’s dad walked in, still in his pyjamas, rubbing his weary eyes. ‘Tea, anyone?’
An hour later breakfast was finished. Her dad was on his way to the local golf club, and her mum was settled in the lounge watching daytime TV.
Janet returned to her musings over the events of the last few weeks.
When the Trun spies arrived in the Solar System, they latched on to a small asteroid about fifty million miles from Earth.
For Kean, it had been an arduous twenty-month journey. His two travelling companions were, to say the least, uninspiring company.
Tray was a very insular man. When not piloting the ship or carrying out any of his official duties, he would be reading books on early Trun philosophy and literature. Whenever Kean tried to strike up a conversation it would always fizzle out into an embarrassing silence.
Sonia was even worse. She blatantly refused to have any interaction with either of them and would often lock herself in her sleeping quarters for weeks on end, not answering any communications from her shipmates.
The remaining duties required for the operation of this intergalactic space vessel, were done by androids. Most were now deactivated. The only one still functioning was a simple food processing droid—or Gobbler as Kean had nicknamed it. To kill time early in the trip, he had installed a small but sophisticated voice recognition and response program in the droid, and the tiniest of mini-brains. He had found a great little domestic worker program that he’d integrated into the software, but the combined result of this mishmash amalgamation was something much more akin to a sarcastic vending machine. He had at least created a travel companion that was infinitely more interesting than the other two.
But now they had reached Earth, he had plenty to occupy him.
Kean’s first task was to find the probe the Vercetians would most likely have used to access the Earth’s information sources. It was highly likely it would have been abandoned in space, and its contents would save him considerable time. And it would be far more comprehensive than anything he would be able to put together.
‘Gobbler. Where are you?’ Kean muttered, busily trying to upload a scanning algorithm into his search probe that was now in orbit around the Earth.
‘Here, Captain DeMancer. Where else would I be?’
‘Cut the crap and promote me to admiral, please. I’m hungry. How are you getting on with the Earth food project?’ He decided he would need to redesign its outer casing if he was going to take it with him.
‘Scan inconclusive, Admiral Captain DeMancer, sir. Need superior data uplink connection.’
‘I’m working on it. You must have something.’ He completed the upload and initiated the scan. ‘This shouldn’t take long.’
‘Expensive menu or inexpensive—also known as junk food.’
‘Junk.’ Kean watched the screen impatiently.
‘A hamburger? Should be right up your street, Admiral.’ The little machine beeped twice, then a red light activated and it chanted, ‘Warning! Warning!’ It beeped twice more. ‘Only joking Admiral, excessive amounts of chemical additives detected. Shall I reduce to safe levels?’
‘Yes, yes, whatever you think.’ Kean was more interested in the results popping up on the screen. ‘Got you.’
Gobbler hovered to the food dispenser and extracted all of the ingredients it needed, then set to work. A couple of minutes later, it presented Kean with a hamburger on a small tray held by its tiny mechanical arms. ‘Your hamburger, Admiral. Enjoy.’ It waited a moment, then added, ‘Shall I prepare something for stomach cramps?’
He grabbed the burger, ignoring the droid’s wittering, and began downloading the data and transferring it onto tiny knowledge disks. These would provide everything they would need for integration into Earth society. He bit into the hamburger, chewing ravenously. ‘This is good,’ he told the droid.
‘Oh joy,’ Gobbler replied.
Kean set to work on the appearances they would be adopting. The standard holographic program reproduced a human based upon Trun characteristics. Kean, a handsome young Trun, was pleased with his new human form. But he wasn’t able to get the level of definition he needed. Sonia could assist with that, he’d been told before they had left.
‘Finish what you’re doing then leave the rest to me,’ she said. ‘I’ll work on something for myself, so start on holographics for Tray.’
Kean thought that was strange but didn’t dwell on it. Before Sonia carried out the facial colour refinements, he had to choose hairstyles for them. Hair was a strange concept to him, requiring much consideration. He had a head cap - a much simpler head adornment - a raised thick layer of skin running from the forehead around the side of his head and running down through the nape of his neck. Within the depth of the skin surface were intricate patterns. No two Trun head cap designs were the same, though some similarities were hereditary.
He accessed his knowledge disk. The choice of hairstyles was overwhelming. He eventually settled for the rather unkempt look that mountain bikers tended to have. That was where he intended to spend most of his time, he mused. He chose a mousey blond colour, which he thought looked quite good. For Tray, he went for a crew cut. A bland hair choice for a dull companion.
He let Sonia know that he’d finished and left her to access the files and add the definition they still needed.
Janet Kilkenny had set up a casual ongoing search program to find and track NEOs from her parents’ house. She would eventually be back to work in an entirely different role. This was her last chance for stargazing. Besides, this research was her passion.
NEOs consisted of NEAs (Near-Earth Asteroids), NECs (Near-Earth Comets), other meteorites, and human-made satellites, all with orbits that brought them in the proximity of Earth. Satellite surveillance was the primary interest from the CIAs viewpoint. The majority of natural foreign objects came from the Asteroid Belt, ejected into the Solar System by interaction with Jupiter’s gravitational pull. There were thousands of these in the vicinity of Earth, many well over 1 kilometre in diameter. The largest so far discovered was 1036 Ganymed, which, at 32km, was due to fly by Earth in 2024.
Janet did her own tracking now, looking for an asteroid or meteor that could be the next threat to Earth. If she found any satellites that weren’t supposed to be where they were, then that would be a bonus. Her set-up in the attic of her parents’ home in the village of Carhoonahone, County Kerry, was pretty nifty. She had a very respectable wide field telescope and could take time lapse photos for downloading onto her home computer—a computer augmented with a powerful RAM, and processors obtained using her network of friends “in the know.” Being on the foothills of Carrauntoohil, the highest peak in Ireland, meant that the clarity of the night sky was pretty good.
About four weeks earlier, she had been tracking an asteroid, and as usual was recording notes on her Dictaphone.
‘Feb 26th. Day three tracking ‘Daisybell.’ Asteroid measures approximately 0.25 km in diameter. You’re a bit of a lump, Daisybell, but there are much bigger boys and girls flying around up there. I’m pretty sure now that I’m the first one to be following you. And, young lady, in today’s photo 26/2-16.30, you’ve developed a blemish. A big black spot. You need to wash more. Your orbit is becoming clearer. A few more days and I’ll know where you’re heading.’
If it appeared it would pass within five million miles of Earth, she would give it her full attention and study it in more depth.
‘March 1st. Day six tracking Daisybell. Well, young lady, it looks like you may get as close to me as 500,000 miles. I’ll need to have a more detailed look at you.’
The asteroid might still be twice the distance of the Moon away, but in astronomical terms, that was quite close. A call to her old colleagues in the USA might be in order.
The shadow was still there. It had only been mildly interesting at first, but once the NEA flyby distance was established, she decided to zoom in as close as her “amateur” equipment would allow. The resolution was far from perfect, but the shadow was there to be seen, cast across the side of the asteroid, blanketing the small hills and valleys. It was definitely circular. The question was: what was casting the shadow? She was now a little more than mildly interested.
With their transformation now complete, nothing was stopping Kean and Tray from heading down to the planet. A missing message globe would have been more than enough to guarantee the Vercetians’ departure from Harewood Hall. The Trun spies hoped they were still in The Republic of Ireland but were more confident of locating the Princess’s two friends.
They waited for a new moon before leaving the relative safety of the asteroid. A direct route straight down to Ireland afforded them the best chance of remaining undetected. The sphere possessed some masking devices, but if anyone were looking for them particularly, they would see them. Their arrival would be at high speed, so any exposure would be brief and hopefully they would be assumed to be a small asteroid.
Their target was a lake by Macroom. It stretched over a large expanse, and by targeting the farthest point from the town, they would be in a quiet and desolate area. The ship rapidly decelerated, and entry into the water was anything but quiet, with a sizeable wave radiating in all directions. Soon, all was calm.
Now the sphere rested on the bottom of the lake gently vibrating, about half of the ship still above water. The water appeared to shake as the sphere sank slowly into the mud and silt that made up the lake bed. A minute later, it had disappeared, and all was silent again.
They monitored the surrounding area for any signs of life or anyone taking an immediate interest. There was nothing.
Now their thoughts turned to becoming human.
Kean ran both his hands through his holographic hair. He liked it. Sonia had made a good job of their facial colour refinements. He hoped he looked like a real human specimen, but that needed proving.
‘What do you think?’ he had asked Gobbler.
‘I would have said fantastic if I had any optical equipment with which to view you, Admiral.’
Over the next week, with Tray’s assistance, they worked on their language converter, playing about with all sorts of English dialects. They decided not to use an Irish accent, afraid the locals would see through them and chose a neutral English one instead.
After eight days they decided their first proper taste of Earth could start. Two single rooms were booked at the Mayfield Hotel, where they hoped to eat and socialise with the locals. Sonia, who still hadn’t finished her own holographic disguise, would stay with the ship.
They exited the submerged sphere via an air bubble, stepping out of it onto dry land and looking a little more dapper than their situation warranted. A trip to the London office would have been more in keeping with the sharp suits they were wearing. They thought nothing of the six-mile walk to the town, even though it almost ruined the mock leather lounge shoes they had replicated.
Tray was verging on sociable during the stroll. This adventure was obviously exciting him.
‘I can’t believe we’re about to enter a town on Earth and converse with the locals. How do I look?’ he asked, not for the first time.
‘You’re asking me? We’ll soon find out when we talk to the locals. If we’re that bad the local police will probably beat us up, take us to jail and throw away the key,’ said Kean.
‘Really? But the voice translator seems to be working correctly, and we’re wearing regular clothing. Why would they want to arrest us?’
Kean sighed deeply. ‘Your disk has Earth humour, yes? That was supposed to represent irony, a form of humour. It is working, isn’t it?’
Tray looked blank for a moment while he accessed his knowledge disk. ‘Yes, I see. Becoming human isn’t going to be as easy as I thought.’
‘It isn’t,’ Kean agreed. ‘But that’s why we’re here. Don’t forget to refer to me as Rob. Okay, Tom? We’re here now and here’s hoping.’
‘And there are your room keys, numbers four and six,’ Mrs Farrelly smiled broadly at the two men, big rosy cheeks making her appear warm and welcoming. ‘Are you gentlemen on a business trip? You’re quite well dressed.’
Rob replied, ‘Well dressed? We, er, well we’ve been to Cork. On business, yes, but we didn’t want to stay in a big city.’
‘You’ll be fine here, luv. Get yourself sorted and come down for some dinner at about six o clock.’
They were down well before that, ready to practise their conversation techniques. Rob didn’t have to work too hard or wait too long, as there was a group of girls in the bar, keen to talk to this handsome new boy. Rob enjoyed being the centre of their attention and very quickly got into character. Unfortunately, Tom took a bit of a backseat, being well above the girls’ target age range.
Rob was invited to visit the pub over the road with the girls, where the music was a little more upbeat than the hotel bar, leaving Tom to go to dinner on his own. He was seated next to a table with a blonde woman eating by herself, just finishing her meal. Tom decided to try and start a conversation.
‘The weather is quite beautiful this evening,’ he began.
‘Yes, it is,’ she replied.
‘Are you staying at the hotel?’ Tom was feeling a little awkward now.
‘Oh no. I work over the road. I’ve had a tough day, what with my boss away ill,’ she said. ‘I’d be too tired to cook for myself, so I’m having some of Mrs Farrelly’s gorgeous hotpot.’ He liked the way her hair moved as she turned her head.
He quickly accessed his knowledge disk, checking what hotpot was. ‘Braising steak, onions, carrots and potatoes. Was it enjoyable?’
She looked at him curiously, then smiled. ‘Yes, enjoyable. My name is Samantha, Samantha Smith.’ She offered him her hand.
Tom knew all about handshake greetings but was a little overzealous with his grip of her delicate hand. ‘My name is Thomas.’ He noticed her wincing and immediately let her hand go. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘Well, I must be off, my cat will want to feed and I’ve still a wee walk to get home.’ She stood up and put her coat on, trying to button it up, still wincing at her hand. ‘Goodbye, Thomas. Enjoy your meal.’
Tom ordered the hotpot from Mrs. Farrelly, and couldn’t help thinking he was having a successful first outing.
For the next stage of the tracking process, Janet Kilkenny set up an algorithm to lock on to the NEA and take photos when it had traversed a defined distance, helping determine its speed more accurately. She left the program running, returning to it after a trip she’d planned for a long weekend in London with some old friends.
After four days of sightseeing, plenty of banter, much shopping and even more Guinness, she was home again. She spent the afternoon fussing and storytelling with her mother, then made her way to the attic to see what was happening. She booted up her computer and downloaded the images captured in the external data drive. The first image appeared, then the second. She set it to slideshow and popped downstairs to get a coffee. When she returned, it had finished. Impossible, she thought, it should be at least a half hour longer. She grabbed her Dictaphone.
‘My lousy equipment appears to be on the blink. It looks like I’ve wasted a few days.’ She started the slideshow again. ‘March 8th. Reviewing the distance-lapsed photos of Daisybell. Series commenced on March 4th/First photo 14.30. Second photo 16.18.’ She turned the Dictaphone off, considering the next twenty photos spaced at similar time differences. The image changed. ‘March, 6th, 02.24. Daisybell has disappeared, just a picture of the stars. Seven more photos of the stars in rapid succession and finish. Total waste of space.’
Annoyed, Janet spent the next two hours finding Daisybell again and resetting the equipment. She left it in tracking mode and went to bed cursing all things technological.
Four days later Janet reviewed the next set of results. The tracking had worked perfectly. The results confirmed her first predictions, so she sent the file back to her friend and colleague Emily at NASA, with a note suggesting they might want to keep an eye on this asteroid.
The results from last week were niggling at her, though. She viewed the slides again, talking out loud as usual, but without the Dictaphone. ‘An asteroid, then no asteroid. Star system on the slide, then more of the star system on the slide, continuing thusly, then ending.’
She returned to the latest photos. ‘Daisybell, you don’t look the same.’ She flicked between the old and the new pictures and it dawned on her. Where had the shadow gone?
It wasn’t on the latest images. Where did it go?
Janet began sifting through the images much more intently now. She was viewing the ones taken around the time the shadow had appeared, particularly the before and after pictures when the bombshell struck.
‘It’s the background stars! Two background stars have disappeared.’ She looked from one to the other. The stars were there, then gone. ‘Exactly in the position that an object would need to be to cast a shadow onto the asteroid. An invisible object that doesn’t allow light to pass through it? What is going on?’
Her mind was racing. ‘What if my tracking software was working correctly and was tracking the mystery object itself? It would mean the object headed towards Earth. At great speed.’
She sat back in her seat and closed her eyes.
Janet Kilkenny had not moved from her chair for about two hours. Her blond hair was bedraggled, with dark roots showing. She was an attractive woman, tall and elegant, but was willing to let her standards drop when she was working hard on some project or another. Her boss had instilled in her many times that she would need be more professional when she took over from him. But for now, she was home with Mum and Dad, and they were used to her and couldn’t care less how she looked.
She had decided to try and track the mystery object’s trajectory and was pretty sure it would have landed somewhere in Ireland. The fact that the night sky had stayed constant suggested it had travelled straight down towards her, give or take a few hundred miles.
She needed a lot more computer power to analyse the data, though, and needed some help from a friend. Her initial thought was it was best to keep this low key. Using NASA’s facilities could result in too many questions being asked—for the moment anyway. She spent the next couple of hours getting all the relevant information ready to email to her friend. There was a lot of data, and it needed four separate emails to get it to him.
Sonia now had the chance to attend to her transformation.
Kean and Tray were spending their first night out of the sphere. She would have until morning to find a suitable host.
She’d had enough of the Trun host and was looking forward to a change. No further modifications to her anatomy were required, as humans were stockier than the Trun. Her forehead horns and the protruding bones from the upper vertebrae of her spine were still phase shifted away. They were there, but moved forward in time a fraction of a second, thus not visible in normal time.
She had selected a park three miles away, near Macroom, close to a thoroughfare used by locals. The park had an abandoned building once used as a tearoom that would be perfect for her needs. With all research completed she exited the ship via the air bubble, wearing a tracksuit with hood, dark glasses, and a scarf covering her mouth. A half hour later, she arrived. She set up a scanner on the thoroughfare, moved down the path, hid in some bushes and waited.
Anyone who passed by the scanner would have their age, sex and dimensional suitability transmitted to Sonia. She wanted a woman on her own, between twenty-five and forty years old.
Over the next hour, a steady stream of people passed. Finally, a woman who fitted all criteria crossed through. She was on her way home after a hard day in the local pharmacy and was looking forward to curling up on the sofa with her cat. Sonia let her pass, checked carefully for passers-by, then stunned her from behind and dragged her off the path. She retrieved her scanner before heading on to the abandoned tearoom, her potential host over her shoulder.
Inside the building, she stripped the clothes from the woman and laid her face down. She had no time to play with her victim this evening. She positioned the scanner directly above the woman’s body, set the hover function and locked it in place. She activated it, and it began carrying out a series of sweeps, assessing the work to be done. When it finished, a small green laser beam appeared and started cutting from the top of the skull to the base of the spine. It cut down the rear of each leg and then each arm. The whole of the corpse was opened out, ready for the technological taxidermist to do its work.
Sonia began discarding the Trun epidermis that she had worn for the majority of the last sixteen years. All neural and physical interfaces were severed, and the Trun skin crumpled to the floor. She folded it up and placed it a portable storage unit. She would need her Trun host later. Sonia stood in front of the scanner. The physical attributes that had been time shifted reappeared—her short back, shoulder and head horns and extended horns flowing gracefully down to the middle of her back.
She exulted in the comfort of being in her own form, savouring this briefest of moments while the scanner carried out its work.
All of the internal organs, the skeleton, muscles, blood and lymph circulatory systems were phase shifted out of this existence. All that remained was the exterior of the woman that would soon be her new host.
The scanning machine stopped and emitted a short message in her native tongue, ‘Time Shift.’ She stood there while it moved her horns into the future, and then, ‘Enter Host.’ Sonia moved toward her new epidermis and climbed inside.
The skin slowly started wrapping itself around her legs and arms. Finally, she was enclosed entirely. The Zerot, in her new outer skin, was lifted from the ground and floated, long blond hair flowing in all directions. The machine rotated her, emitting a plethora of green beams at the body, connecting and activating every nerve ending, every neural and physical interface. Soon, it was complete. Sonia was returned to her feet as the machine turned itself off. She dressed.
The lady lived, though her cat would not be fed tonight.
Professor Brad Foley was Janet’s Astrology lecturer at Florida International University. They had stayed friends after her graduation, and he had taken a keen interest in her career after acting as one of her references on her application to join NASA—on loan from the CIA.
A man who survived on little sleep, Brad had picked up Janet’s email within minutes of her sending it, even though it was still only 4.30 in the morning.
Hey Brad,
How are Kate and Emily? I hope you are all well.
I’m still in Ireland. Mum’s not faring very well at the moment. She has her good days, but the bad days are hitting her harder now. I dread where this is going.
Anyway, as you know, my little set-up here is keeping me out of mischief. And I’ve got something I’d like you to look at with the university computers.
I won’t say anything at this stage. Study the pictures and see if your conclusions are the same as mine. I know you like a mystery.
Watch for three more emails.
Love, Janet
Brad Foley was feeling like a boy on Christmas morning as he looked through the emails and began piecing together the timeline of the pictures.
‘She’s studying a stationary asteroid with an unusual shadow on it. She’s on time lapse—no, distance travelled—frame shots. Not a lot happening until these last few. What’s going on now?’
He flicked through the pictures again, and a third time. Closed his eyes for a minute, scratched his chin, then jumped up and ran upstairs.
He leant over his sleeping wife, who was stirring from the noise he was making.
‘Janet’s sent me a riddle. I’m just going over to use the university’s computers for a couple of hours.’ He kissed her.
‘Brad, it’s Saturday. What time is it? For God’s sake. Be back by eleven, we’re having brunch with Ted and Sally.’
‘I will.’ And he was off.
Brad Foley leaned back in chair seat in the study lab, with a wry smile on his face. The evidence was conclusive. Janet, on her home computer, had tracked something from a fixed location behind a big rock in space—that could be deemed as hiding—to somewhere in Ireland.
The data was the data, and his computers could do no more than confirm what Janet had suspected, albeit with more speed and a lot more accuracy.
Was it a UFO? Brad thought it might well be. Although he had tracked many objects that displayed typical UFO characteristics and weren’t. Was it worth making a fuss over this information? He didn’t think so. Janet’s data was just too sketchy. Anyone could have reproduced what she’d sent him. Nobody would be interested in this except Janet and himself. He emailed her back and told her as much.
...and the landing coordinates are 51deg 54‘16“ N 8deg 57‘25“ W, give or take a mile or two. That’s the best I can do with what you’ve sent me.
Let me know how it goes with any more investigating you decide to do. I’m interested, though as I’ve said, I don’t think anyone else will be.
Love to you and your folks. We’re all wishing your mum the very best with her treatment and praying for her.
Keep in touch.
Brad x.
Kean and Tray made their way back to the hidden TW Sphere the following morning with a spring in their steps. Kean was happy that his popularity with Trun girls carried over to his earthly persona, and Tray was still delighted with his perceived successful encounter with Samantha Smith. They both had moments where their naiveté had shown, Kean especially. One of the three girls had whispered in his ear to a Rod Stewart record playing ‘Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?’ Kean quickly accessed the lyrics to the song, saw where the couple in the song ended up and panicked. ‘No, I don’t,’ he blurted. She left in a huff.
At the edge of the water, they summoned up a transport bubble, stepped inside and transferred into the sphere. Sonia was still in her room and unresponsive. Kean replicated some clothes more in keeping with the younger men’s attire in the public house. The new look was denim jeans, trainers, t-shirt and a short black leather jacket. He went straight back out to meet the girls from last night, for a liquid lunch as they described it. Standard Saturday behaviour in the village, apparently.
Once Kean had gone, Tray sorted himself out some casual wear. He was admiring a holographic image of himself in brown corduroy trousers, brown brogue shoes, and a checked shirt when Sonia stepped out of her room.
But it wasn’t Sonia. It was Samantha Smith.
Momentarily confused, Tray said, ‘Samantha?’
‘No it’s me, Sonia. I’ve completed my transformation.’
‘But you’re identical to Samantha Smith. A lady at the next table to me at dinner, last night. How has that happened?’
Sonia didn’t answer that question, she asked one instead. ‘Where is Kean?’
‘He’s gone to meet some girls from the town. I’ll ask again. Why are you imitating a woman from the village?’
It was the last question he would ever ask. Sonia moved with lightning speed. In a moment she was behind him, one arm holding him and the other twisting his head, breaking his neck. She held him for a moment and then sneered as she let him drop to the floor.
‘Turdgutter,’ she muttered. ‘What do I do with him now?’
Janet finished reading Brad’s findings and sent a reply thanking him, and agreeing that it would be pointless to share the data with anyone else at this juncture.
Then she plotted the coordinates on her dad’s Ordnance Survey map.
The Gearagh, near Macroom.
Janet knew of the place but had never been there. A submerged glacial woodland formed during the building of two hydroelectric dams. She remembered seeing photographs of the remains of old trees, eerily visible through the surface of the lake, giving a ghostly appearance. She’d thought at the time that she would like to see this nature reserve.
Perhaps now was the time to go and pay a visit.
Janet arrived in Macroom on the Saturday lunchtime. She had booked into the Mayfield Hotel for just one night but was early—her room not ready until 2pm. The Ploughman’s Inn over the road looked a good place to kill an hour or so. She ordered a Ploughman’s lunch—it seemed rude not to—and a half of Guinness, and sat herself down. The pub wasn’t crowded by any stretch of the imagination, but still quite lively.
She finished her meal and popped to the loo. While she was washing her hands, she spoke to a girl next to her touching up her makeup. ‘I’ve only just arrived, but I like this little town. I bet you don’t get many visitors.’
‘Few come at this time of year, though things will start picking up when the spring arrives. Visiting the nature reserve, mostly.’ She smiled. ‘Why are you here?’
‘To see the reserve,’ Janet said. ‘Mostly, I was hoping to bump into some friends, but the arrangement was never made firm and I’m sure I’ve got their phone number wrong. Have you seen any strangers in town?’
‘Only the lad we’re talking with. He came with his friend, last night,’ she said.
‘Doesn’t sound like the people I’m looking for,’ Janet sighed.
‘He’s English, and a bit strange.’
‘In what way?’
‘Oh, how he dresses—or did last night—and speaks. Can’t put my finger on it, but Rob there is killing us. We’re having a real good time.’ The girl finished touching up her lips and was gone.
Janet went back to her seat and watched the boy with the three girls for a while. He was certainly a natural entertainer. Maybe a bit too natural?
Just after two, she checked into the hotel. She changed into her walking clothes, then made a point of bumping into Mrs. Farrelly again, using the same story she’d used earlier: hoping to bump into some old friends, and had she seen any strangers about. ‘Some businessmen from Cork was all,’ she had said. A little more questioning and she found out it was the boy Rob and his friend.
She bought a map of the area from a corner shop and stood reading it in the weak spring sun. In the bright light, the pretty little Irish town appeared to be coming to life after the winter blues, with daffodils colouring grass borders everywhere and people busying themselves outside. She realised she hadn’t thought this through and didn’t have any plan. After some consideration, she decided to walk out to the nature reserve. It was there on the map, but the road she was on was doing a good job of hiding from her. A sign reading “Gearagh Nature Reserve” over the road saved any embarrassment, and off she strolled out of the charming little town.
Halfway there, she was overtaken by a young man. She called to him, ‘Is this the way to the Gearagh, please?’
The lad turned. It was the boy Rob from the public house. ‘About another half mile and you’ll be there,’ he said and smiled broadly.
Janet tried to keep up with him, but his pace, though appearing casual, was relentlessly fast.
He had gained a lead of a couple of hundred feet before the road veered left and she lost him for a short time. When she turned the corner, there was no sign of him. She spoke into her imaginary Dictaphone. ‘Now, where has he gone?’ The road ahead was straight for about a quarter of a mile. The reservoir was on her left, the wood was on the right, with no visible tracks into it. She checked behind. Nothing. Strange, she thought.
This part of the road was close to the water’s edge, and Janet was captivated by the strange beauty of the lake. Ageless oak sentries broke the surface of the mirror smooth water, guarding any treasures that might lie beneath. One of the few remaining European oak forests had been partially cut down sixty years ago when the valley was flooded to supply hydroelectricity to the city of Cork. The remaining trees still stood, defiantly shouting out against this ecological disaster.
Janet’s enjoyment of the view was interrupted by a rustling in the bushes behind her. A woman emerged, fully dressed in apparel more suited to an office than the woods. She stopped and stared at Janet, eyes piercing straight through her. ‘Good afternoon,’ Janet offered.
The woman ignored her and walked straight to the water’s edge, pondering for a moment before turning and walking back around the bend in the road.
What a strange woman. She gave her a minute, then followed her around the bend. Gone. Again. ‘Strange. People keep disappearing.’ There was another rustle in the bushes on her right, near the way back to the lake, followed by a gentle splash of water.
Janet waited. Then she walked up and down the road looking at the spring flowers sprouting under the bushes, but all was quiet—no further sign of life.
Janet returned to the hotel, showered and got ready for dinner. Downstairs, the reception was deserted, and that gave her opportunity to flick through the guest book and note the details of the guests from the previous day.