THE KILLER OF THE DARKNESS

EPISODE FORTY-THREE

FORTY-THREE

I handed Joanne the case, that Mũller gave to me earlier.

       "What's this?"

       She said, accepting the leather case with interest.

       "A virus of some sort. I wondered if you would try to analyse the contents of the phials. I administered the liquid to Inspector Roome and Doctor Walton, believing I was giving them a vaccine for the virus that bloody craft was carrying. Now I realize I gave them a virus, which killed them."

       "Bloody hell."

       Joanne's expression was one of shock and horror.

       "What can I do to help?"

       "Try to work out the chemical breakdown and components of what this virus contains. Can you do that?"

       "Of course, I will, but first you can buy me a drink."

       We walked down in the direction of the pub, in rather lower spirits than we had when we met up.

       We discovered that the pub appeared to be half full. They were not in high spirits but there had been an audible buzz of conversation when I had first pushed open the door and ushered Joanne inside, when as if a switch had been thrown, all talking stopped.

       Silence.

       There were lights around the walls, but they were unlit. The only illumination came from the milky sunlight that struggled through the smeary windows creating silhouettes of the figures sitting at the bar.

       I stepped past Joanne, oblivious to the faces turned towards us as I made my way up to the saloon-bar. Somewhere at the back of the room a chair scraped across the stone floor, but otherwise there remained utter silence. Joanne joined me, looking a bit out of place and disconcerted.

       Behind the bar stood, Barry Baker, the red-faced landlord who had full head of steel-grey hair. He paused mid-polish, a damp cloth wiping the inside of a pint glass. After a moment, the cloth started working again and Baker leaned forward towards me feeling like an intimidating gesture, but I stayed unmoved.

       "You normally have the Inspector and the Doctor in tow. Where are they, drinking at home?"

       I took a deep breath.

       "I'm afraid they are both dead."

       Every head turned in my direction.

       Again, Baker paused mid-polish.

       "What happened? Did that thing kill them?"

       I shook my head.

       "No, they fell victim to a fast-acting virus supplied by our German friends. I have managed to contain the poison, and Joanne will carry out controlled tests, to discover the product's chemical make-up and the best way to apply safe disposal."

       "Bastards!"

       Baker said between gritted teeth, and the word echoed around the pub, as the locals followed suit.

       "Can I offer you a drink?"

       Baker asked.

       I ran my finger along the damp top of the wood, tapping gently on each of the three beer engines.

       "Never tried the Fishermen's Ruin."

       "It's strong."

       Baker said, his deep voice boomed around the pub, that had taken on a character of shock and silence.

       "If you are not used to drinking our local brew. Which, if my memory serves me correct you don't do."

       I nodded.

       "Excellent. A pint of that them, please."

       I smiled across at Joanne, who sighed.

       "And a gin and tonic for Joanne."

       There remained no further movement or comment from anyone else in the room. Baker busied himself pulling the pint of beer.

       "Pam?"

       He called out suddenly, without looking up from the task.

       "Yes, Dad?"

       The reply came from the room behind the bar area. A moment later a woman appeared in the doorway. Younger than Joanne, she had red hair to her shoulders and a mass of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were a startling green, oval and wide. She froze in the doorway as she caught sight of Joanne and me.

       "Gin and tonic for Mrs Burton."

       Her father grunted as he lifted the foaming pint and placed the glass on the bar in front of me. The beer appeared cloudy at the top, but the bottom cleared at speed. A misty foam ran down the outside of the glass and pooled on the Mahogany surface of the bar.

       "Gin and tonic."

       Pam murmured, not moving from the doorway.

       "Today, girl."

       Not a harsh rebuke from her father. I sensed an undercurrent of humour.

       Her eyes increased still further, and she blinked.

       "Of course. Sorry."

       She disappeared out of the door again.

       "Sorry."

       Joanne apologized. Her voice a nervous high-pitched sound.

       "Didn't realize you would hold the social gathering in here."

       Baker concentrated on us with curious intent.

       "We couldn't all fit in the church."

       I raised my glass with care and took a mouthful of froth from the top, giving me a white moustache traced across my upper lip.

       "I will try to stop these deaths."

       I wiped the back of my hand across my lips.

       "I hope you can. The people are good people on this island. What with this killer and the German's arriving and now this bloody virus? The war has come to Onehouse with a vengeance."

       "Such a shame. I came here to escape from all that."

       I leaned across the counter, when to my annoyance my sleeve rested in the puddle where my glass had stood.

       Baker's eyes narrowed.

       "Seems to have followed you here."

       "I hope not."

       I had defused this conversation and fast.

       "Will you have a drink?"

       "I might."

       Baker smiled at me.

       "You've not paid for those two yet."

       "Ah."

       I started to rummage through my pockets.

       "An oversight. I am sorry."

       "No problem."

       Baker let me struggle with my wallet with his coat for a few moments.

       "Don't worry. It's a free bar for the wake."

       "Thank you."

       I showed gratitude but I also felt grateful. I had a mixture in my pocket of second world war coins and the twenty-ninth century p*****t method of a bar code on my right wrist.

Baker shrugged.

       "I reckon you might have had the sort of day when you need a drink."

       "Yes, rather traumatic."

       "So, I understand."

       Joanne and I both turned. The speaker was Sergeant Allum, wearing a dark suit. Behind him several other people were coming in, all in dark suits. The mourners from the funeral.

       "I believe the Inspector and Doctor Walton are dead."

       I told him how they died, gesturing to the bag that Joanne carried.

       Sergeant Allum was traumatized.

       "Let's get a table."

       Joanne pushed her way past several tables to find an unoccupied pair of chairs close to a dartboard in the corner of the bar. The restaurant where we had a meal the other day, was through an adjoining door.

       The table wobbled when she set her drink down and the chair wobbled when she sat down. She peered at the stone-flagged floor to adjust the table's position when Sergeant Allum sat down next to her.

       "I hope I'm not ruining your date?"

       He smiled at Joanne as she glanced up.

       "No, not at all."

       I said as I pulled up another chair. I set my glass down on the table, the beer sloshing against the sides as the table wobble.

       At that moment Pam Baker set down a pint of ale in front of the sergeant. I could not help but heeded the smile that went with the service, nor the way Allum smiled back. He reached for the glass, his hand brushing against the young woman's hand.

       "What happened?"

       Allum asked once Pam Baker had gone.

       "Mũller gave me some phials containing what he made me believe to be a vaccine, against a virus the craft carried. A German soldier injected me and with no side effects. However, when I injected Roome and Doctor Walton, they suffered painful deaths, after a short time."

       Allum appeared taken aback for a moment.

       "Jesus Christ, what's in those phials?"

       "I'm hoping Joanne will find out for me."

       "Good."

       He turned and looked at Joanne and gave her a smile.

       "Where are all the children, Ian?"

       I asked with an abrupt tone.

       "At school, of course."

       I nodded in understanding, but the sergeant could see by the expression on my face that his answer was not the one I was looking for.

       "Oh. Well, I imagine they feel that a funeral isn't really appropriate for children."

       Allum seemed not to be paying full attention. He examined Pam pushing past a group close to the bar. On the edge of the group, the husband of Dee Williams, still with the same intent glaze he had had when he put the lid back on the coffin.

       "Terrible what is going on to this island. It is affecting the local farming and fishing. That's all they have here."

       "And there is a war on."

       "Yes, there is a war on."

       Allum repeated before standing up.

       "Look, I'd better have a word with the families, if you'll excuse me."

       "Of course."

       I told him, but he happened to be heading back to the bar.

       "What do you think?"

       Joanne asked as soon as Allum stood out of earshot.

       "I don't know but something is niggling me."

       I took another swig of ale.

       Joanne's hand froze, her gin and tonic close to her mouth.

       "Niggle?"

       She did not like the way I had said that.

       "Mm. Niggle. Allum knew of their deaths. How did he find out?"

       "He's a policeman."

       "So, we take that at face value."

       "What else?"

       "Nothing much."

       I frowned and pouted as I thought.

       "We keep our eyes and ears open for anything unusual."

       I sipped my beer.

       "Or the anachronistic."

       I smacked my lips and held the remains of his pint to the light from the nearest window.

       "The odd."

       I nodded to myself and drained my glass in a single swallow.

       "The weird."

       I concluded.

       Then I belched.

       "Sorry."

       Joanne shook her head and looked at the ceiling. Grimy and discoloured by smoke and time.

       "So, we're just going to sit here?"

       "Certainly not."

       My voice came to her from slightly further away and when she looked up, she realized that I was already out of my seat and stood behind her, making her flinch with surprise.

       "And you."

       I whispered close to her ear before kissing the lobe.

       "You can stay here."

       "Thanks."

       "Or."

       I suggested as he turned away.

       "You could circulate bit. Converse. Get acquainted. Listen out for..."

       I shrugged.

       "The unusual, the anachronistic, the odd, the weird."

       Joanne finished for me.

       "And the belches."

       I was halfway to the bar by the time she finished.

       She looked at what happened to be left of her gin and tonic.

       "I could do another drink, too."