Concept date: 21st June, 2017
First published: 19th November, 2017
Status: COMPLETED.
Version: STANDARD.
Age Recommendation: 12+
Age Recommendation: 12+
Average Reading Time: Approximately 30 Minutes.
Revisions: 4. [Last Edit: March 2018]
Angel-in-charge: Margret Team Assigned: Team 74
Human Time: 1929AD-1347AH Mission: 223467 - 7 - 6190
Angel-in-charge: Margret Team Assigned: Team 74
Human Time: 1929AD-1347AH Mission: 223467 - 7 - 6190
MISSION SUMMARY: "There has been an error in the 'Dispatch Department' [They keep the records of deaths] and Mr. Jericho Tibbs must find and bring back Patrick 'Bends' McGill from the dead of the Underworld, despite being a man of evil disposition, he must be returned to the Dimension of the living. This will involve a dangerous trip to a part of Hell colloquially know as the 'Devil's Garden' - where the Dark Prince rules!"
NOTES: This episode contains strong language and horror with very strong sexual references.
"This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or actual events is purely coincidental." The Author.
"GHOSTS IN THE DEVIL'S GARDEN OF THE DAMNED."
Alex sat reading in Jericho’s study; she had finished ‘Treasure Island’ and now started to read ‘Don Quixote’ with growing pleasure and interest; “I wonder if Jericho has read this.” She smiled and turned the pages quietly, adding; “Well I certainly know how the old Knight feels.” The study door opened and young Owen bounced in, with a big grin and holding a brown paper file.
He dropped onto the sofa and held the file aloft; “You’ll never guess where we are heading for Alex?” She marked her page and closed the book, placing it upon the small table beside her chair; “Go on Owen, you appear to be bursting to tell someone.” The young man almost giggled with growing excitement; “Bloody Hell.” He said and grinned again.
Alex rolled her eyes and pulled the file from his fingers and read the summary of their latest Mission – Indeed, they were scheduled a trip to Hell, well, the place colloquially known as the ‘Devil’s Garden’. It wasn’t quite ‘Hell’, but similar, in the old days and according to certain religions, it was known as ‘Purgatory’. It was the 'Quarantine' area used by 'Collections' to house souls waiting final judgement. If a soul was sent to 'quarantine'; this is where they ended up.
All souls that failed the initial inspection by the Duty Death Angel [currently Angel Margret] were placed there; to await their final judgement; return to the human life cycle or dispatched to 'Hell' proper. The 'Dark Angel' currently in charge was Simon. He and Angel Margret knew each other well.
Alex peered over the top of the file at young Owen and asked; “Has Jericho seen it?” Owen shook his head; “I just received it from little Ivan, the Messenger, he’s just left. Mr. Tibbs is apparently playing Chess with Wilson, or rather trying to teach him to play the damn game, without throwing the pieces about.”
Alex nodded and handed the file back; “Best you disturb their game, Mr. Tibbs will need to see it as soon as possible.” She watched young Owen jump from the sofa and disappear through the door, standing aside as Mr. Harris appeared with a large tray of drinks and he laid them upon the study table; “For the journey I believe, my Lady.” Alex pulled from her over- comfortable chair and lifted a brandy glass; “Yes, I think we’re going to need a good start for this particular show – thank you Mr. Harris.”
Alex peered over the top of the file at young Owen and asked; “Has Jericho seen it?” Owen shook his head; “I just received it from little Ivan, the Messenger, he’s just left. Mr. Tibbs is apparently playing Chess with Wilson, or rather trying to teach him to play the damn game, without throwing the pieces about.”
Alex nodded and handed the file back; “Best you disturb their game, Mr. Tibbs will need to see it as soon as possible.” She watched young Owen jump from the sofa and disappear through the door, standing aside as Mr. Harris appeared with a large tray of drinks and he laid them upon the study table; “For the journey I believe, my Lady.” Alex pulled from her over- comfortable chair and lifted a brandy glass; “Yes, I think we’re going to need a good start for this particular show – thank you Mr. Harris.”
The details of the Mission floated through her mind and she slowly sipped the brandy; there had been an error in the Dispatch Department and a ‘Patrick Bends McGill’ had been collected three hours earlier than scheduled by the Human Time-Line. Mr. McGill was a very unpleasant individual – a paid hit-man for the ‘Five Points Mob’ and had several murders to his credit. He should have been killed at 6.15pm by another gangster outside his boarding house in New York City, but had been collected some three hours before that event and with his record of killings, was sent to ‘The Devil’s Garden’ to await his final fate.
How he slipped through the system would be investigated thoroughly, buy it appears that a slightly over zealous new collector might be the answer!
Alex could hear voices coming from the Hall and realised that Mr. Harris was escorting James, a Knight of God - into the Reception Room; she placed her drink down and headed there at once. She found Jericho and Wilson emerging from the small Games Room, both sharing the file between them with Owen trailing behind; still smiling.
James was a stunning young man, who when last alive, had fought for the Tsars of Russia, on horseback with sword and spear. His piety and devotion to God was well documented and known - as was his chivalrous nature. His enemies both feared and respected the young cavalier. He was killed at the age of 28, defending a church packed with women and children who were refugees from Cossack raiders. The legend states that he killed over twenty of the fierce warriors with sword and dagger, before being killed by a volley of arrows fired by hidden archers.
His dying words to his enemy was to leave the church in peace. This the Cossacks did; out of respect for a fellow warrior and the legend of James of Kiev was written into the annuals of Russian History - pre-revolution of course.
It didn't survive the Revolution and now, few remembered the brave young man in his old homeland or his incredible sacrifice; there were no memorials or plaques to recall him or his feats of courage and devotion - but the BOSS [God] had remembered and within a century or two, the young man found himself made a Knight of God.
An elite company of the finest men and women that Humanity had produced and were nicknamed; 'The little angels', since they were considered just a step away from being an angel - and with a very important difference: they could still pass into the realm of mortal man!
Young Ruth watched from the kitchen door with mouth open in sheer awe of the handsome young man, until Mrs. Harris called her away. Ruth grinned broadly and said that Owen could easily end up as a Knight of God; Cleo Harris sighed and rolled her eyes; "Ruth, you certainly have an strong imagination!" The two walked back to the kitchen, passing Mr. Parker carrying a rubber chicken that Alex had given him to play with. Ruth reached down and stroked the big cat who disappeared into the Dinning Room.
John, the reclusive friend of Jericho's, was waiting in the kitchen doorway to hand back an empty plate and cup. He thanked Cleo for the sandwiches and tea, the asked who the visitor was. Cleo explained about James, the 'Knight of God' and John almost smiled; "Yes, I do know James. A good man - a very good man." Cleo suggested that he join Jericho and James in the Dinning room, but John shook his head and shuffled through the yard door and headed for his cottage.
Cleo sighed and placed the cup and plate in the sink; "Such a waste. If only he pulled himself together, he could achieve so much good." A puzzled Ruth asked Cleo what she meant, but Cleo just smiled and asked her to get on with warming the dinner plates and said nothing more about the hermit of Heaven's Edge Bay.
“Mr. Tibbs, I’ve placed himself in the Reception Room and will fetch more drinks.” Mr. Harris disappeared into the Butler’s Parlour with a determined step – having a Knight to entertain was the equivalent of serving Royalty; in his mind. Everyone gathered in the Reception Room and James was made comfortable and accepted a large Vodka from the delighted Mr. Harris, who had changed into his best black jacket and trousers – but was sporting a multi-coloured waistcoat beneath!
James glanced at the gaudy garment and had some difficulty stopping himself from smiling. Owen stood respectfully to one side with the grin gone, and was listening quietly to the Knight outlying the details of the Mission. James explained that authority for the Mission had come from ‘above’ – from ‘Himself’ – and despite Mr. McGill having an evil disposition; he was entitled to his fully allocated life-span – even if, it was just three hours more.
He also mentioned that it was the first error in almost a thousand Human years and that the 'BOSS’ had informed the ‘Dark One’ of the mission and there should be no interference from the dark side, and that the ‘Dark Prince’ had arranged a Minion to assist; if necessary or required.
Owen looked totally puzzled and whispered to Alex; “Why would the Devil do that – I mean assist us?” She smiled; “They are brothers and they do talk you know.” Owen shook his head in mock disbelief; “I still can’t get my head around that, and the fact they have a sister.” He said quietly and accepted a glass of whisky from Mr. Harris which returned a smile to his young face.
The Knight gave his instructions with a smile, especially when he saw the look on Jericho’s face, as he informed him that the Pilot of the ‘Necrosub’ was McAlister Semple. Alex grinned and tapped Jericho's shoulder; “You two will get on fine; this time.” For the Journey to the ‘Devil’s Garden’ a specialist craft was required; a ‘Necrosub’ which was created to cross between the dimension’s of light and dark/Life and Death. McAlister made many such runs each year; taking condemned Souls there and occasionally returning a very happy Soul whose sentence had been commuted or pardoned.
With all his experience, he was clearly, the right choice for the Mission despite the falling out between him and Jericho, some years previously. McAlister was the Chief ‘Necronaut’ of the small unit of ‘Necrosubs’ that were operated by the ‘Collections’ Department – and the best Pilot by far; he had said so himself on many occasions!
James stood by the fire and downed his vodka in a single throw, he smiled at Alex; "Lady Alexandra may I say that when 'the BOSS' decided to bestow beauty, grace and intelligence upon the female, he gave you a full measure of each." and kissed her hand.
It was rare for Alex to colour at men's mere words of admiration, but on this occasion she did blush a little and murmured a quiet; "Thank you Sir." It was clear that the good Knight had fallen under her spell - like many had done so and would continue to do so!
Wilson chuckled and said quietly to Owen; "Another bloody Moth to the flame."
The Knight turned to Jericho and raised his class, which Mr. Harris had rushed to refill; "To God and your safe return." He turned to Alex and whispered; Particularly yours." Alex sipped her drink and said quietly; "To God and his good Knights."
2. McAlister SEMPLE.
Jericho just nodded his head at that remark and sipped his whisky without further comment. The Mission would commence that very night with the group heading for McAlister’s office and home; an abandoned whaling station in South Alaska!
They arrived during a blizzard of snow and ice; “What bloody nutter actually chooses to live in this shit hole?” Wilson moaned, wrapping his coat tightly against the flying snow. "I bet he doesn't have many fucking visitors." He added, but Jericho smiled; "You would be surprised, never mind what I think of McAlister; apparently he's a very popular character. I have no idea why."
The group made their way through the numerous rusting and derelict buildings towards a couple of sharp lights, showing from what appears to be an old derelict Chapel. Alex was quite bemused by the stained class window at the front of the building - covered with rusting chicken wire - it appeared to be a large polar bear wearing a bright red three piece suit and a black top hat. Jericho actually chuckled; "Rumour has it, that's based on McAlister's first wife."
Jericho banged hard upon the doors and awaited entry. The night was falling fast – as was the temperature and Owen pointed out to his fellow travellers a pack of several large wolves, prowling around the perimeter of the ruined station. “They probably view us like we would a Pizza delivery.” Owen muttered; then grinned, wiping the snow from his face.
The big door jerked open and bright light streamed out; McAlister stood in the doorway and smiled. He pointed his rifle to the sky and fired – that actually made Alex jump – then laughed; “That’s tibb’s and his pack, he’s the really big fucker with the silver streaks in his fur. Mean and sneaky, but he’s clearly a good pack leader.” McAlister stared at Alex and lowered the rifle; “Jesus Jericho, you’re a lucky bastard, what a fucking babe!”
Everyone watched as ‘Tibbs’ led the pack away from the buildings; stopping once to look back, then quickly disappeared into the night. “He’s called a pack of wolves after the Boss?” Owen whispered to Wilson and grinned.
McAlister was easily the size of Wilson and dressed like an 19th Century Snake-Oil salesman, complete with chequered trousers, bright red waistcoat and a small pistol tucked into his braces. On his head was a large black Russian style fur hat, sporting a ‘skull and crossbones’ badge. He pulled a half smoked cigar from his pocket and grinned broadly; “Welcome to fucking Alaska!”
He stepped aside and everyone quickly pushed into the Hallway and McAlister slammed the big door shut and placed a metal bar across it; “The local Eskimo’s are a funny bunch – they’ll steal the teeth from your gob – given half a chance.” He hung the rife up and gestured towards a piano black door opposite.
“Tang! Tang! You lazy dog! Get off your arse; we have visitors and one is a real babe!” The group trooped into the room and were quite surprised by what they found; it was a saloon bar! There was a fine, dark wood bar with gold railings and a large painting of a completely nude woman; holding a shotgun and standing upon a dead grizzly bear, which had a surprised look upon its face.
Alex looked about the place in amazement; it was exactly like one of those Wild West saloons you saw in Western films. She shook her head and smiled at Owen; “Our host certainly has a specific taste in clothes and furniture.”
The door reopened and a small Chinese man crept in and quickly ran past McAlister, who tried to boot the little fellow up the arse. “Get the drinks on the go; we got fucking visitors!” Tang slipped behind the bar and stuck two fingers up; “Fuck you! I get drink for people and beautiful lady.” He grinned at Alex and bowed a little, jerking his thumb at the painting; “Your far more pretty than Stella – I wish to paint you – maybe getting out of bathtub!” He bowed again and started opening bottles of whisky and brandy.
“Tang painted the tart in the picture, some years back, he’s a lousy barman and servant; but quite a good painter of nude women and walls and ceilings.” McAlister laughed and coughed, pushing the cigar into his mouth.
McAlister lit his cigar and blew large smoke rings about the place and sat down on a gaudy red sofa, stretching out his legs and scratching his shaggy beard; “I got a message from Margret that I’m to do a run to Hell with you fellows and rather strangely; I’m to bring you back!” He laughed and coughed, drawing on his smelly cigar. Tang offered him a whisky and he took it slowly, eyeing Jericho closely; “So what’s the plan Jericho, who’s the fuckwit that has a second chance?”
Jericho accepted a large whisky from the grinning Chinese man and settled back in his surprisingly comfortable chair; he looked about the place and smiled slightly; "Just run us there, wait until we collect Mr. McGill and then return us here – we’ll do the rest.”
McAlister nodded his agreement and sipped his whisky; “I know you’ve been there, but what about these three – do they know the rules?” He waved his glass at Owen, adding; “He’s a bit young to visit such a place; you could leave him with Tang, the old bastard will teach him Poker and how to cheat without getting his head blown off.”
Jericho shook his head; “Owen wants to be a Temporal Detective and so he must learn the ropes, this mission will be good training.” Owen smiled with some relief at that; he didn’t want to miss out on the trip to Hell just because some crazy Necronaut thought he was too young. Wilson slapped him on the back and nodded. “Quite right; baby brother.”
“The babe should definitely stay, Tang could paint her and I can show her my engravings when I return.” McAlister smiled broadly at that suggestion and added; “A beauty like that shouldn’t be risked in such a shit hole.”
“Alexandra, my name is not babe, baby or anything else but: Alexandra.” She spoke quietly and sipped her brandy; “I have been to ‘The Devil’s Garden’ twice before and I know what I’m doing Mr. Semple.”
“Never Semple, always McAlister!” He groaned and lifted his class in salute; “Alexandra!” He said simply and swallowed the whisky down in one gulp. The door creaked open and Omar stepped in, scratching his head and stubbly beard with some enthusiasm, declaring; “Mac, why have we got visitors at this time of night?” He made his way to the bar and Tang dished up a large dark rum, he took a couple of swigs and nodded at Wilson; “Nothing beats a slug of rum for breakfast!”
“He likes to sleep late.” McAlister said simply and shrugged his shoulders.
Omar Hussein [the subs co-pilot] was a tall, thin individual dressed like an 18th century Turkish brothel keeper and with the same cheerful disposition. Alex cringed as the young man took bites from a small red onion and picked at some bread Tang had handed him.
“He has Dark Rum, onions and dry bread for breakfast?” Owen didn’t know if he was impressed or nauseous. Omar looked Alex up and down - then smiled. He pushed his hands through his long dark hair and spoke softly; "I never thought I could really fancy a bloody copper, but you are one hell of a piece of skirt and trousers don't suit you. Always wear a short dress that shows off your legs. They look long and lean and I bet they go right up to heaven - that's one ladder I'd climb any day!"
Alex said nothing initially, but sipped her brandy - she believed a trouser suit was the most appropriate clothing for where they were headed and told him so. Omar disagreed - clearly; "Nay Alex, its all wrong. I would have thought, that you would know the Minions there, are all in human form. They won't take a bite out of piece of skirt like you; showing those gorgeous legs and plenty of cleavage. If it all goes tits up, pardon the pun! - that's your key to survival in that shithole.
McAlister nodded his agreement with Omar's comments and turned to Jericho; "You should either leave the babe here or tell her to dress up. Surely; when she made the other trips; the Necrosub crews pointed that out. Young Kate, the skipper of sub six, always wears skimpy shorts and an open blouse. She knows the score."
Alex didn't admit that both the crews on her two previous trips had made the same comment. Both the captains she travelled with, made the point of insisting, to her Inspectors, that she remain on board - for her own safety. But she really didn't like being told what to wear - her husband Henri always ordered her about; when it came to dressing to please him - and she hated that.
Jericho just smiled; "Alexandra can wear what she likes. If she's prepared to take a chance on those clothes, its fine by me. But, very reluctantly for once, I would have to agree with you - just to safeguard herself." Alex sighed - quite loudly and folded her arms in defiance. Then she saw the look of concern upon Jericho's face; had she badly cocked up on the costume front this time?
McAlister jerked a thumb towards a bright green door at the rear of the 'bar' and said; "Take a look around in there, there's lots of girl's stuff left by Omar's and my friends. Your bound to find something more suitable and safer than looking like a vulnerable young boy."
"You should wear something really revealing; a short skirt with stockings would be perfect and just a little black bodice, showing off those hooters - they are bloody stunning." Omar chuckled to himself and gulped down yet another rum. "We can wait." McAlister added and pointed to the door. Jericho shrugged his shoulders and said to Alex; "Its your call Alexandra."
Wilson, who had made several trips to the 'Devil's Garden' during his tenure as a Temporal Detective, said quietly; "For once they're right Alex. I suggest you slip into something that shows off your female charms. You'll have those bloody minions eating out of your hand - if needs be - so don't be a mule-head and get them legs showing!" He grinned and pointed to the green door.
Owen didn't offer an opinion, but what McAlister said about 'vulnerable young boys' gave him some thoughts to ponder; but he was still going.
Alex said nothing more, but walked slowly to the green door and pushed it open. The team sat about drinking and chatting, with Jericho and Wilson giving last minute advice to young Owen. McAlister offered one piece of advice to him; "Don't bend over in the Reception centre when we book in - the skinny minion; Simon, who's in charge there, really likes young boys!" He and Omar laughed for some time over that comment - Owen forced a grin and said nothing.
All the heads turned, as the green door creaked open and Alex re-appeared. She was wearing a short black mini-skirt with black boots that came to just below her knees and a bright red leather, over bust corset, which certainly showed her magnificent breasts to their best advantage. Her long dark hair was tied back with a white ribbon and she wore a dark lace collar - she simply looked stunning. She did a little twirl and said simply; "Will this do?"
There was a silence for a few seconds, then McAlister nodded; "Alex, you look fucking stunning. If I wasn't already dead - like everyone here - I would marry you tomorrow and live happily in lust for ever more and die a happy man - a very happy man." Omar grinned and said; "Ditto." The look on his face said all he was thinking.
They had one last drink before their trip to Hell - Alex sipped her brandy and turned to Jericho; “In another century, these two could easily pass for pirates!”
Jericho nodded his agreement with that statement and placed his glass upon the table; “Let’s go people.” McAlister sighed loudly and eased from his sofa with little enthusiasm; “Come on Omar, let’s fire up the old girl and get this crap done.”
3. NOT A NICE PLACE TO VISIT, AND YOU WOULDN'T WANT TO STAY...."Jericho just nodded his head at that remark and sipped his whisky without further comment. The Mission would commence that very night with the group heading for McAlister’s office and home; an abandoned whaling station in South Alaska!
They arrived during a blizzard of snow and ice; “What bloody nutter actually chooses to live in this shit hole?” Wilson moaned, wrapping his coat tightly against the flying snow. "I bet he doesn't have many fucking visitors." He added, but Jericho smiled; "You would be surprised, never mind what I think of McAlister; apparently he's a very popular character. I have no idea why."
The group made their way through the numerous rusting and derelict buildings towards a couple of sharp lights, showing from what appears to be an old derelict Chapel. Alex was quite bemused by the stained class window at the front of the building - covered with rusting chicken wire - it appeared to be a large polar bear wearing a bright red three piece suit and a black top hat. Jericho actually chuckled; "Rumour has it, that's based on McAlister's first wife."
Jericho banged hard upon the doors and awaited entry. The night was falling fast – as was the temperature and Owen pointed out to his fellow travellers a pack of several large wolves, prowling around the perimeter of the ruined station. “They probably view us like we would a Pizza delivery.” Owen muttered; then grinned, wiping the snow from his face.
The big door jerked open and bright light streamed out; McAlister stood in the doorway and smiled. He pointed his rifle to the sky and fired – that actually made Alex jump – then laughed; “That’s tibb’s and his pack, he’s the really big fucker with the silver streaks in his fur. Mean and sneaky, but he’s clearly a good pack leader.” McAlister stared at Alex and lowered the rifle; “Jesus Jericho, you’re a lucky bastard, what a fucking babe!”
Everyone watched as ‘Tibbs’ led the pack away from the buildings; stopping once to look back, then quickly disappeared into the night. “He’s called a pack of wolves after the Boss?” Owen whispered to Wilson and grinned.
McAlister was easily the size of Wilson and dressed like an 19th Century Snake-Oil salesman, complete with chequered trousers, bright red waistcoat and a small pistol tucked into his braces. On his head was a large black Russian style fur hat, sporting a ‘skull and crossbones’ badge. He pulled a half smoked cigar from his pocket and grinned broadly; “Welcome to fucking Alaska!”
He stepped aside and everyone quickly pushed into the Hallway and McAlister slammed the big door shut and placed a metal bar across it; “The local Eskimo’s are a funny bunch – they’ll steal the teeth from your gob – given half a chance.” He hung the rife up and gestured towards a piano black door opposite.
“Tang! Tang! You lazy dog! Get off your arse; we have visitors and one is a real babe!” The group trooped into the room and were quite surprised by what they found; it was a saloon bar! There was a fine, dark wood bar with gold railings and a large painting of a completely nude woman; holding a shotgun and standing upon a dead grizzly bear, which had a surprised look upon its face.
Alex looked about the place in amazement; it was exactly like one of those Wild West saloons you saw in Western films. She shook her head and smiled at Owen; “Our host certainly has a specific taste in clothes and furniture.”
The door reopened and a small Chinese man crept in and quickly ran past McAlister, who tried to boot the little fellow up the arse. “Get the drinks on the go; we got fucking visitors!” Tang slipped behind the bar and stuck two fingers up; “Fuck you! I get drink for people and beautiful lady.” He grinned at Alex and bowed a little, jerking his thumb at the painting; “Your far more pretty than Stella – I wish to paint you – maybe getting out of bathtub!” He bowed again and started opening bottles of whisky and brandy.
“Tang painted the tart in the picture, some years back, he’s a lousy barman and servant; but quite a good painter of nude women and walls and ceilings.” McAlister laughed and coughed, pushing the cigar into his mouth.
McAlister lit his cigar and blew large smoke rings about the place and sat down on a gaudy red sofa, stretching out his legs and scratching his shaggy beard; “I got a message from Margret that I’m to do a run to Hell with you fellows and rather strangely; I’m to bring you back!” He laughed and coughed, drawing on his smelly cigar. Tang offered him a whisky and he took it slowly, eyeing Jericho closely; “So what’s the plan Jericho, who’s the fuckwit that has a second chance?”
Jericho accepted a large whisky from the grinning Chinese man and settled back in his surprisingly comfortable chair; he looked about the place and smiled slightly; "Just run us there, wait until we collect Mr. McGill and then return us here – we’ll do the rest.”
McAlister nodded his agreement and sipped his whisky; “I know you’ve been there, but what about these three – do they know the rules?” He waved his glass at Owen, adding; “He’s a bit young to visit such a place; you could leave him with Tang, the old bastard will teach him Poker and how to cheat without getting his head blown off.”
Jericho shook his head; “Owen wants to be a Temporal Detective and so he must learn the ropes, this mission will be good training.” Owen smiled with some relief at that; he didn’t want to miss out on the trip to Hell just because some crazy Necronaut thought he was too young. Wilson slapped him on the back and nodded. “Quite right; baby brother.”
“The babe should definitely stay, Tang could paint her and I can show her my engravings when I return.” McAlister smiled broadly at that suggestion and added; “A beauty like that shouldn’t be risked in such a shit hole.”
“Alexandra, my name is not babe, baby or anything else but: Alexandra.” She spoke quietly and sipped her brandy; “I have been to ‘The Devil’s Garden’ twice before and I know what I’m doing Mr. Semple.”
“Never Semple, always McAlister!” He groaned and lifted his class in salute; “Alexandra!” He said simply and swallowed the whisky down in one gulp. The door creaked open and Omar stepped in, scratching his head and stubbly beard with some enthusiasm, declaring; “Mac, why have we got visitors at this time of night?” He made his way to the bar and Tang dished up a large dark rum, he took a couple of swigs and nodded at Wilson; “Nothing beats a slug of rum for breakfast!”
“He likes to sleep late.” McAlister said simply and shrugged his shoulders.
Omar Hussein [the subs co-pilot] was a tall, thin individual dressed like an 18th century Turkish brothel keeper and with the same cheerful disposition. Alex cringed as the young man took bites from a small red onion and picked at some bread Tang had handed him.
“He has Dark Rum, onions and dry bread for breakfast?” Owen didn’t know if he was impressed or nauseous. Omar looked Alex up and down - then smiled. He pushed his hands through his long dark hair and spoke softly; "I never thought I could really fancy a bloody copper, but you are one hell of a piece of skirt and trousers don't suit you. Always wear a short dress that shows off your legs. They look long and lean and I bet they go right up to heaven - that's one ladder I'd climb any day!"
Alex said nothing initially, but sipped her brandy - she believed a trouser suit was the most appropriate clothing for where they were headed and told him so. Omar disagreed - clearly; "Nay Alex, its all wrong. I would have thought, that you would know the Minions there, are all in human form. They won't take a bite out of piece of skirt like you; showing those gorgeous legs and plenty of cleavage. If it all goes tits up, pardon the pun! - that's your key to survival in that shithole.
McAlister nodded his agreement with Omar's comments and turned to Jericho; "You should either leave the babe here or tell her to dress up. Surely; when she made the other trips; the Necrosub crews pointed that out. Young Kate, the skipper of sub six, always wears skimpy shorts and an open blouse. She knows the score."
Alex didn't admit that both the crews on her two previous trips had made the same comment. Both the captains she travelled with, made the point of insisting, to her Inspectors, that she remain on board - for her own safety. But she really didn't like being told what to wear - her husband Henri always ordered her about; when it came to dressing to please him - and she hated that.
Jericho just smiled; "Alexandra can wear what she likes. If she's prepared to take a chance on those clothes, its fine by me. But, very reluctantly for once, I would have to agree with you - just to safeguard herself." Alex sighed - quite loudly and folded her arms in defiance. Then she saw the look of concern upon Jericho's face; had she badly cocked up on the costume front this time?
McAlister jerked a thumb towards a bright green door at the rear of the 'bar' and said; "Take a look around in there, there's lots of girl's stuff left by Omar's and my friends. Your bound to find something more suitable and safer than looking like a vulnerable young boy."
"You should wear something really revealing; a short skirt with stockings would be perfect and just a little black bodice, showing off those hooters - they are bloody stunning." Omar chuckled to himself and gulped down yet another rum. "We can wait." McAlister added and pointed to the door. Jericho shrugged his shoulders and said to Alex; "Its your call Alexandra."
Wilson, who had made several trips to the 'Devil's Garden' during his tenure as a Temporal Detective, said quietly; "For once they're right Alex. I suggest you slip into something that shows off your female charms. You'll have those bloody minions eating out of your hand - if needs be - so don't be a mule-head and get them legs showing!" He grinned and pointed to the green door.
Owen didn't offer an opinion, but what McAlister said about 'vulnerable young boys' gave him some thoughts to ponder; but he was still going.
Alex said nothing more, but walked slowly to the green door and pushed it open. The team sat about drinking and chatting, with Jericho and Wilson giving last minute advice to young Owen. McAlister offered one piece of advice to him; "Don't bend over in the Reception centre when we book in - the skinny minion; Simon, who's in charge there, really likes young boys!" He and Omar laughed for some time over that comment - Owen forced a grin and said nothing.
All the heads turned, as the green door creaked open and Alex re-appeared. She was wearing a short black mini-skirt with black boots that came to just below her knees and a bright red leather, over bust corset, which certainly showed her magnificent breasts to their best advantage. Her long dark hair was tied back with a white ribbon and she wore a dark lace collar - she simply looked stunning. She did a little twirl and said simply; "Will this do?"
There was a silence for a few seconds, then McAlister nodded; "Alex, you look fucking stunning. If I wasn't already dead - like everyone here - I would marry you tomorrow and live happily in lust for ever more and die a happy man - a very happy man." Omar grinned and said; "Ditto." The look on his face said all he was thinking.
They had one last drink before their trip to Hell - Alex sipped her brandy and turned to Jericho; “In another century, these two could easily pass for pirates!”
Jericho nodded his agreement with that statement and placed his glass upon the table; “Let’s go people.” McAlister sighed loudly and eased from his sofa with little enthusiasm; “Come on Omar, let’s fire up the old girl and get this crap done.”
McAlister walked slowly down the steep staircase towards the basement with Omar just behind who was telling Owen what to expect when the 'Necrosub' drops. At the foot of the old stone staircase, McAlister opened a heavy metal door and pushed through; the rest of the group followed in silence.
"There she is; the Scallywag." McAlister announced with some pride in his voice. Alex chuckled; "My reference to pirates couldn't be more appropriate." Wilson nodded, but looked puzzled. Owen sighed; "Scallywag is a pirate saying." Jericho and McAlister stood next to the 'Necrosub' and exchanged views about the mission. Owen stood staring at the craft; he had never seen anything like it. "It looks like a giant teardrop made out of plastic!" he exclaimed and walked round the small craft which was no bigger than an old London Double Decker bus.
"How many souls can you transport in this thing?" He asked Omar directly - not impressed with the vessel - Omar shrugged his shoulders; "We normally carry about two thousand on a trip." Now that did puzzle Owen; "Where the fuck do you put them?" He muttered as the team started to board.
Omar chuckled and slapped Owen on the back with some humour; "You'll see my young friend." Omar dropped through the hatch first and eased into his pilots seat, Owen followed and stood a little amazed; the inside was enormous. Wilson dropped down next and smiled at Owen; "Same as the lighthouse really - the inside is certainly not constrained by the outside." Owen just smiled and made himself comfortable in one of the six visitors seats, behind the two pilots.
Everyone stared up at the hatch as Alex made her way day into the craft. "Now that's the sort of view that should be on an art gallery wall." Owen muttered and really did grin. Wilson gave him a gentle slap and shock his head in mock despair.
"Little white panties are an absolute favourite of mine." Omar interrupted the pair and smiled broadly. Alex simply stuck up a solitary finger at them and found a comfortable seat, then strapped herself in. Jericho and McAlister dropped through the hatch and then 'Mac' sealed it up behind him.
Jericho sat next to Alex and checked his mirror; "I take it we're not carrying any souls on this trip?" He asked McAlister who nodded: Yes. The soul chamber was empty. Owen scratched his head and asked Wilson; "If this craft can carrying about two thousand souls, do they carry extra guards or something?" Wilson shook his head; "Don't need them; the souls are delivered in a couple of small, sealed crates which are only opened by the receptionists at the centre. The crew have no access to them - except to load the crates into what's called the 'Soul Chamber'. The Receptionists will unload the crates once the paperwork is processed; it's a really simple procedure."
Owen nodded; "Yeah, but why is it shaped like a teardrop; that's weird." Omar chuckled; "Well. if your going to Hell, what better way to travel than in a tear drop?" Owen grimaced and settled in his seat.
Alex smiled and tapped Wilson's shoulder; "You haven't explained to our resident pervert about the ghosts in the devil's garden." She eased back in her seat and consulted her mirror. Owen stared at Alex, but spoke to Wilson; "Ghosts? what ghosts?" He asked with real curiosity in his voice. The big man sighed; "Sometimes there are errors - failures - in the system and the odd soul is lost on arrival. Sometimes, souls turn up there without warning and are lost in the 'Garden'. I understand that the 'Dark One' does allow his minions to carry out searches for them; but its rare to find one in the vast space that is the devil's garden. Everyone there refers to them as 'Ghosts'."
Omar turned around and grinned at the pair; "Don't forget the poor bastards of crashed Necrosubs' - I know that over the centuries, that two subs have crashed there and none of the crews were recovered. They're out there somewhere; now ghosts in the fucking garden."
Wilson smiled at Alex; "Being a beautiful young woman, you'll have a far greater chance of survival than any of us blokes; most of the devil's minions there are male humans." He gestured to her outfit; "hence the advice about your clothes." He chuckled and settled back in his seat. Jericho nodded to McAlister and he fired up the 'Scallywag'.
"Next stop hell!" McAlister shouted and pulled down a vivid red lever just above his head. The ship dropped through nothing at incredible speed - Owen actually felt sick; his stomach was now - apparently - just below his chin! he closed his eyes tightly as the craft appeared to drop further and faster. Then it stopped and his stomach was now - apparently - around his ankles. He felt awful and groaned loudly; he needed brandy urgently. Alex smiled and shoved her hip-flask under his nose. "Well. we got here without turning into bloody ghosts." She muttered as Owen took a couple of sips from her flask.
"Are we really there?" He whispered and leaned back in his seat; his legs were no longer shaking and his stomach had stopped moving about. Wilson grinned and released his safety straps; "We sure are baby brother - our day trip to Hell starts now!" Alex gripped Owen's shoulder and smiled; "Come on Owen, Simon and his staff are very good hosts to visitors like us - they almost view us as respected colleagues. You should enjoy - and learn - from our quick visit."
McAlister was up the ladder, unsealing the hatch as Jericho consulted his mirror; "OK people, lets get this done as quickly as possible. Mrs. Harris has Beef Wellington on the menu tonight." Owen felt sick at the thought of food [now that was a first!] and took another sip from the hip-flask before handing it back to Alex. Omar stood arms folded by the seats and grinned; "Mac and I will wait for you fellows at the Staff bar and restaurant; the food is very good there and the booze is completely free. The company can be difficult; not many have a real sense of humour down here."
"I'm last up the ladder - thank you gentlemen." Alex grinned and gestured towards the ladder. Omar and Owen both groaned; "Spoilsport." Jericho just chuckled and followed McAlister up the ladder, with Omar and Owen behind him. Wilson came next; then a happy Alex. They were in the reception area of the Devil's Garden.
Owen stood in amazement, staring at the huge stone interior of the Reception area; it appears to have been built from Neolithic stones of enormous proportions. The reception desks look like they were carved from single pieces of gold and white marble. The place was packed with people, formed into orderly queues at the desks. He then noticed, that there was two other 'Necrosubs' just behind where the 'Scallywag' had docked. That's when he saw they appeared to be standing on pools of dark water, he looked above each craft; there appeared to be similar puddles on the ceiling!
Wilson slapped him on the shoulder and pointed to a imposing desk in a quiet corner; the blue sign above said: 'Visitors Only'. "That's our one." He smiled at Owen and they followed the others over to the desk. The Receptionist was a young man in a neat black suit, white shirt and black tie. He smiled broadly and opened the large, ornate book on the desk and offered an old fashioned 'fountain pen' to Jericho; "Would you please sign yourself and your team in Inspector."
Jericho nodded and McAlister slapped him on the back; "We'll be in the bar when your finished." He turned to Alex; "You'd be better off staying with us. The drinks are on me and Omar." He stared at her breasts and licked his lips; "You'll love the place; it's like an old fashioned disco and strip bar. They play ABBA a lot here." Alex declined his generous offer; not very politely it must be said.
A little disappointed, McAlister shrugged his shoulders and with Omar in tow, headed for the bar. Owen had to chuckle; the place was called 'Dave's Inferno'. A bright red sign displayed above the two big red doors shouted that out. "I get it. The devil's real name is David; isn't it?" He spoke to Wilson, who just sighed; he guessed it was going to be a long stay; even if it only took a few hours.
The receptionist - quite politely - asked the team to wait until their hosts appeared. He checked Jericho's time piece and wrote its number down in the ledger. Every temporal Detective Inspector and above, carried a custom made fob watch. The time piece was their badge of office and authority to carry out their duties. Each Inspector received his watch from the 'BOSS' himself.
It was the first time, that both Owen and Alex had seen the fabled and almost legendary time piece. Jericho closed it with a snap and replaced it in his waistcoat pocket. Owen chuckled and said quietly to Alex; "Now I know why all Inspectors wear waistcoats; even the female ones!" Alex just smiled; she was watching the two people approaching the team from a door marked Staff Only'.
The male - wearing the obligatory black suit - was a tall African male with strange horizontal scars on each cheek. He was quite handsome despite those markings. The female was in a matching black 'business' suit with a very short skirt. She had amazing burnt copper coloured hair, tied up with a black ribbon. Her skin was very white; almost like milk. She had real dark eyes and thick red lipstick. She was easily considered a 'real beauty'.
Jericho smiled and held out his hand; "Hello Peter. I hope this isn't too much of an inconvenience?" Peter returned the smile and shook Jericho's hand with some apparent affection; "Your always welcome Jericho." He had a deep voice; he could have made a fortune doing movie talk overs! He introduced his assistant; Tabitha to everyone. Apparently Peter was her mentor; she was still learning the job. Her and Alex stood chatting; Tabitha was pleased that Alex knew the ropes here and had dressed appropriately!
That's when Peter dropped the little bombshell; their BOSS was here in person. He had arrived just a few minutes ago with his large retinue and had asked to meet the visiting detectives at some point, in their mission. The two minions never noticed how Jericho, Wilson and Owen all stared at Alex, when they were told the news.
Owen whispered to Alex; "Bit of a co-incidence that; he turns up when your on a mission here?" Alex just ignored him; but she was actually quite concerned. He [the Dark Prince] had made it clear, at their last encounter, that he wanted her for his personal 'Harem'. She tugged at her short skirt and felt a little vulnerable. She really wished she had stayed in her business suit with its wonderful trousers.
Peter pointed to a pair of large glass doors - guarded by at least a dozen staff [easily recognisable; all staff wore the same uniform] and said simply; "Shall we go?"
4. THE GARDEN.
They walked through the doors and the heat hit them; it was like stepping into an oven. Owen groaned; "Now I know how the Christmas turkey feels." Wilson chuckled; "I expect its a little climatization for the real thing." Peter gestured to their transport; sitting a few yards away. "Captain Stabbings and her crew will take us out into the garden." Owen just stared and Alex joined him; their transport resembled a large cockroach on wheels!
As they drew closer, they realised just how big the vehicle was. It towered above them, black and shining in the bright sunshine. "It must be five stories high." Owen said to Alex, with real amazement in his voice. Alex nodded and then noticed, at the front was a moveable set of steps, like you see at airports, with two people waiting to greet them. Both women, in neat black uniforms with the mandatory short skirts and like Alex; wearing knee length boots. They smiled broadly and said together; "Welcome aboard the 'Alexandra'."
Owen actually giggled at that, he turned to Wilson and said quietly; "Well, at least we can say, we have been in Alexandra!" But Alex had heard him and slapped his shoulder; hard. He just grinned and the team made their way up the steps and into the welcoming cool of the inside. The interior was like a hotel reception area. The two very pleasant ladies showed them the reception desk and departed. Wilson and Owen watched then walk away; their hips swinging gently in unison. "That's what I call a real pair of glorious ars…." Wilson never finished his sentence; he saw the look on Alex's face. He just smiled.
The receptionist on board was another young woman in the same uniform that the greeters wore. She smiled at Peter; "I understand that these guests are day visitors and do not require rooms, just access to the bar and restaurant Sir." Peter nodded and he asked the team to follow him. That's when they noticed the little clutch of staff around the door marked 'Staff Only'. They were all chatting and gesturing towards Alex. Peter waved them away and smiled at her; "They're a bit excited. They have obviously never met the person - in the flesh - that a crawler has been named after. The 'BOSS' [the other one] named this himself; after you apparently Detective."
Alex didn't smile and that didn't go un-noticed by her colleagues. Finally she said quietly; "I'm really flattered that he named a giant cockroach after me. Charming." Even Peter had to chuckle at that. For a minion, he still had quite a sense of humour. They were shown to the bar; it was clearly marked 'VIP's ONLY'. It was stunning; all wood décor and furniture to match. It would not have been out of place in a five star hotel.
Tabitha showed them to window seats and they were like large armchairs. Alex carefully eased herself into hers and stared out the window. There was nothing but desert - just endless miles of brownish red sand - she wondered about the strange humour of naming this place; the Devil's Garden'.
Everyone felt the gentle movement as 'Alexandra' got under way. The music playing - it was 'Lead Zeppelin' - stopped and a woman's voice was heard. She spoke with some authority in her voice; "Welcome above the crawler Alexandra, the newest crawler in the fleet and Captain Stabbings and her crew are pleased and honoured to welcome aboard Assistant Director Peter and his staff. We are also pleased to welcome the visiting Temporal Detectives; especially Inspector Tibbs and detective Alexandra Cappanni, who this very craft is named in honour of. Thank you and have a pleasant voyage."
A very smart, good looking young waiter appeared and took orders for drinks. Alex asked for a brandy and some cold water. He smiled and murmured; "You may have anything you wish Ma'am. Anything." Tabitha chuckled at that and ordered a large whisky and - again - some cold water. "The BOSS has instructed us, that you can order anything you like. Food, drink, hot bath, new clothes, anything. You are quite the VIP Alex." Tabitha smiled at her and pointed out the window adding; "Hopefully the Captain will take the Southern Pass to the 'Shadowlands' and you'll be able to see the mysterious ruins on the way."
Alex accepted her drinks from the young waiter who smiled broadly at her; he couldn't huis eyes off her over bust corset, that was showing off her magnificent bosom. Tabitha took her drinks and waved him away; with a smile. " What are the 'Shadowlands?" Alex asked her, quite intrigued by the name. Tabitha nodded; "Its a remote district here; to get some idea of its size; it's about the size of North America - all of North America."
Alex looked impressed, then asked; "The ruins?" Tabitha lowered her voice and sipped her whisky; "No one really knows. They are very ancient. In human years they are reported to be millions of years old. No one has any idea who built them or what they were built for. You'll be impressed by them, if you like mysterious old buildings."
Alex sipped her water and said dourly; "That's more Owen's department." The young waiter was back; taking orders for lunch. Alex asked for the menu and the young man just smiled; "Sorry ma'am, there are no menu's. Just order what you wish and it will be served." Tabitha leaned across Alex and whispered; "He really mean's anything, so order what you really fancy." Alex shrugged her shoulders and waved her brandy glass gently at him; " I would like Turbot with oysters, cabbage and bacon, with a decent bottle of plonk...sorry, white wine." He simply smiled and asked what Tabitha wanted.
Owen eased forward in his seat - opposite Alex and Tabitha - and said quietly; "Where the hell are they going to get bloody Turbot out here?" He sounded a little amazed. Tabitha ordered exactly the same and smiled at Alex; "The BOSS said you had exquisite taste Alex and I must agree with him. You are a real pleasure to host." Owen grunted at the waiter; "Fillet steak - rare - and chips [French fries] with all the trimmings." He saw the look of disappointment on Alex's face. "You could have ordered something with a little more imagination." Alex said. "I ordered all the trimmings." He said; defensively. Alex just sighed and sipped her brandy.
That's when she noticed that Jericho and Peter were deep in conversation. They clearly appeared to know each other very well; that puzzled her a little. But then she glanced out the window and saw the small group of people, standing by the roadside. They were in rags and wore no shoes. They looked like vagrants and beggars who had fallen on real hard times. They stood in silence as the 'Alexandra' passed. They didn't wave or make any gestures.
Alex turned to Tabitha, but Tabitha spoke first; "Settlers here. They tend to gather in groups now and again, for company I suppose. Heaven knows what they have to talk about, if they've been here for a while."
Alex just nodded. The 'Settlers' - as they were called - were condemned souls awaiting their final judgement. Alex also knew that they suffered all the human emotions and needs still. They hungered and knew thirst. They could feel the heat and the bitter cold of night. They still had sexual feelings and all their memories from their time amongst the living. But - and this was a big but - They could not physically eat or drink or copulate. That was all gone. They could dream and desire, but never realise any of them - ever.
The basic rule of the Garden - for visitors - was simple; you gave them nothing - clothes, shoes, trinkets or words of comfort. You must not help or assist them in any way. The penalty was simple too; you became one of them, if you broke the rules.
The waiter appeared and asked everyone to follow him to the dinning room. Everyone rose and followed him. Alex took another look out the window at the disappearing group of 'settlers' and despite whatever evil crimes they had committed; she could still feel a little sorry for them - they had been fellow humans after all. Now they were just creatures of unfulfilled desires and they could never change.
The meals were superb and Alex got exactly what she wanted; that did amaze Owen. After dinner, back in the bar, Jericho briefed his team about what lay ahead. They were going into the 'Shadow lands' and there meet an 'agent' who ran the place; he was a condemned soul that apparently could be trusted; like 'Trustee's' in normal prisons for the living. He would take the team to where Mr. McGill had been placed.
Through the windows, Owen and Wilson could see the passing settlements; made of brick, stone and canvas. Each one had little groups of ragged humans standing or wandering about. Not one condemned soul waved or gestured or even acknowledged the 'Alexandra' as she passed. But occasionally, they saw a much smaller version of the 'Crawler' they were aboard, parked near one of the ramshackle townships. Tabitha explained it was guards from the centre, sorting out various problems with the natives. Some of the guards did wave as the big crawler passed them.
Owen was a little puzzled and finally asked Tabitha outright. What was the difference been the condemned souls and their past actions [when they were alive] and the guards and staff, that ran and policed the place? Wilson thought that was a cracking question; and said so!
Tabitha smiled - a little - and pointed out that the staff and guards had all been followers of the 'Dark Prince' when living and had 'sold' or given their souls to him. That way, when they died, they were never collected and thus, never faced the judgement of the Duty Death Angel. It was a sort of 'get out of jail - free' card. She summed it up, with an old expression, popular amongst the staff; "Better dark than judged."
"No bloody wonder the devil is so popular." Muttered Owen and that did make Alex and Wilson smile.
5. THE SHADOW LANDS.
Night had started to fall as the 'Alexandra' passed a huge signpost, erected by the side of the road. It stated; 'DISTRICT 9. GUARDIANS ONLY'. Tabitha pointed out that the temporal Detectives Mission team had special permission to pass into the District. But the team would have to transfer to a 'Guardian' flyer at the Guard Station ahead. The 'Alexandra' would wait at the station for them to return with McGill. They would be escorted by Guards throughout their short stay; the place was especially dangerous at night.
That remark really puzzled Owen; "How can it be dangerous? everyone is bloody dead." Peter chuckled at that and pointed out that some of the 'residents' were carrying horrific injuries from fighting amongst themselves. Some had lost limbs, eyes, hands and even heads! Their existence was miserable enough without adding the burden of crippling disability to it. Plus, these people have absolutely nothing to lose - nothing." Owen nodded his understanding.
The 'Alexandra' pulled up outside the station and awaited entry through the large black gates. The place was constructed from huge, stone blocks and towered above the crawler. There was a tall metal watchtower at each corner and they shone bright lights down upon the crawler. "It's like fucking Alcatraz' without the water." Muttered Wilson.
Once inside the compound; the gates were closed and they were greeted by three Guards. They all saluted Peter [the Deputy Director of the Garden] as the team decamped from the bus. The Station Commander seemed extremely nervous that such a high ranking official from the Reception Centre would turn up at his station [No. 153] - especially at nightfall. The two Senior Guards with him made no secret of their sudden and intense interest in Tabitha and Alex; especially Alex.
Wilson whispered to Alex; "See what me mean Alex? What we have been telling you? If you ever got stranded here; you wouldn't be short of some real protection. The buggers in the garden would tear you apart just for the fun of it - they have no use for women - even beautiful ones." Alex slowly nodded her agreement; the Guards and Staff retained all their human desires and many of the males would certainly protect and shelter her; for the sexual favours she could bestow upon them. it really didn't make her feel any safer.
The Station Commander showed the team to the flight deck of the station. He was a big man, clearly - originally - Japanese or Chinese in descent. He introduced them to the flyers who would take them out to where McGill had been dumped. The Pilot was a certain tall, athletic looking male who smiled broadly at Alex and Tabitha. He was called 'Mackenzie' [no one really used surnames on the 'Dark Side'] and admitted he was from Glasgow; when alive.
Owen groaned; "Are all the bloody pilots we meet from Scotland?" Wilson slapped him on the back; "As long as the fucker can fly really well, I don't care if he's from bloody Nazi Germany!" Owen smiled at that. Wilson really fucking hated Nazi's - but then who didn't?
They all stared at his craft; called 'Jessabelle'. it resembled a large black mosquito and was about the size of a single decker bus. Standing by the open hatchway was the Co-Pilot; a young woman of African descent and Mackenzie introduced her as 'Bugsy'. They gave each other a 'high five' and Mackenzie pointed to Alex and Tabitha, slapping a kiss on Bugsy's cheek; "You've a real couple of rivals here my girl."
Alex smiled; 'Bugsy' was actually quite a beauty. Bugsy pushed him away and smiled at the girls; "Never mind bloody Casanova; welcome aboard the 'Jessabelle'. We'll be flying for about two hours. Your man has been assigned to camp 477 - its a mix of males and females - mostly newcomers. We're just waiting for young 'Tagger' show up. He's the Trustee there."
Everyone climbed aboard and found a seat. Alex and Tabitha sat together; they were actually getting quite friendly, considering they were on totally opposing sides. Wilson sat next to Owen - who insisted on a window seat - whilst Peter and Jericho sat just behind the pilots. The last two rear seats were empty - for now. Everyone could feel the engines come to life and a small vibration could be felt through the seats and arm rests. There was very little sound from the engines.
Peter stared at the hatchway as two figures squeezed through; one was a rough looking guard, with a big nasty scar running the length of his right cheek. The other was a young man - dressed in little more than rags - who said nothing and stared at the floor, as he made for his seat, but stood next to it.
"He knows where McGill is in the camp?" Peter asked the guard, who saluted and stood by the empty rear seats; "Yes sir, Tagger says he was put near the old towers." Peter nodded and gestured for the pair to seat. The hatchway closed softly and Bugsy checked it before taking her seat next to Mackenzie. Everyone could feel the craft lifting vertically and increasing in speed. They were airborne in seconds.
"We'll be flying for around two hours before we reach settlers camp 477. The weather is reported as clear. But don't hold your breath over that forecast. Storms can come up in minutes and can be really nasty for hours. If we shout to use the seat harness's; then slap them on!" Bugsy's voice came over the intercom and everyone chuckled.
Owen stared through the window; Guard Station 153 - lit up like Blackpool Tower - was fast disappearing into the darkness. He settled back in his seat and said softly to Wilson; "I wonder what our young friend 'Tagger' did to get quarantined and for how long?" Wilson shrugged his shoulder; he certainly didn't know.
But Tabitha turned in her seat and said quietly; "Tagger was in the Russian army. His patrol entered Berlin in 1945 and was responsible for raping two German women - young girls really - he received quite a light quarantine, considering your Angel Margret heard his case. You know what she's like about such matters. But, apparently, he didn't want to take the girls, but the rest of his patrol made him. He was killed - along with most of that patrol - by some Hitler youth just days later. He only received a human century in quarantine, all the others are here for some time more."
Alex stared at the young man - sitting head down - next to the burly guard who was picking his teeth with some determination. The boy was no older that Owen. She sighed and stared out of the window; there was nothing but darkness - no lights anywhere and then she realised there was no moon! She wondered where - exactly - was the 'Garden' located?
That's when Alex noted a small string of little white lights on the sand below. She turned to Tabitha; "Is that one of your patrols down there?" Tabitha didn't reply, but Peter shouted to the cockpit crew; "Lights on the sand. Call it in." Bugsy's face appeared by the hatchway door and nodded. "Yes sir." was all she said. Tabitha leaned back in her seat and didn't smile; "Illegal night movements by gangs of smugglers. We must have caught them out - this was an unscheduled flight - they were not expecting us up here - obviously."
Owen leaned forward and said to Tabitha; "What are they smuggling?" Tabitha smiled; "Trinkets, blankets, bits of furniture, clothes and stuff like that. Books especially, they're like gold down there. But anything that can make their miserable lives a little more comfortable. Which is not allowed or tolerated." Alex stared back at the ground; The lights had been extinguished -they must have seen the 'Jessabelle'. The rest of the flight was quite uneventful; apart from Wilson snoring loudly! Owen woke up the big man by shaking his arm. "We're here." He said and grinned; the 'Jessabelle' was starting her descent to the sand.
The craft landed softly - just a little bump - and the team spilled out onto the sand. Camp 477 looked like a third world village that had hit really bad times - really bad times. There was a small group of settlers watching from the crumbling brick entrance. They made no sound or gestures; they just stood and watched. Peter produced a simple looking black rod from his jacket and turned it in his hands. Both Tabitha and the unpleasant looking guard did the same. Peter turned to the temporal detectives; "I know, I don't really have to tell you, but keep your wits about you. This place is full of human rats and this is THEIR nest." He smiled and gestured to Tagger; "After you boy." The guard shoved the boy hard and tagger gestured for them to follow them.
The place was lit with little yellow lamps and the smell was appalling; Tabitha held a hankie to her face on a coupkl of occasions. Alex was clearly made of sterner stuff and that made the guard smile. He certainly would be having some pleasant or rather, unpleasant thoughts, about what he would like to do to her, after this shift had finished. Tagger lead them through the silent streets, Alex stared at the hopeless people; men and women, huddled in doorways, wrapped in ragged blankets or scraps of heavy cloth, against the chill of the night.
Wilson pulled off his jacket and Alex - really gratefully - wrapped it around herself. The slow witted guard smiled to himself and offered his jacket to Tabitha; who just stared at him and waved his gesture away. She may not like the smell, but she could suffer the cold, rather than accept 'charity' from a lowly guard. Now, if Wilson had offered his coat to her; well, that would be a very different matter.
Tagger stopped outside a small brick and canvas covered hut, below two ruined brick towers, whose purpose was totally unknown. He gestured inside and stood back. Peter tapped the broken wooden door mantle with his rod; "McGill. Patrick McGill, get your sorry arse out here." He shouted and stepped back. they could hear movement inside and the dirty door flap was pulled back. A young Asian women - in utter rags and almost skeletal in appearance - appeared and pointed inside. Then she folded her arms and stared down at the sand.
Peter and Jericho peered inside. A big white male was pulling himself from the dirt. He was dressed quite well compared to the others. "You McGill?" Jericho asked, pulling out his mirror, to confirm the man's identity. The man simply nodded. Satisfied that it was McGill, Jericho nodded and said quietly; "Your coming with us. You have been given a three hour reprieve." The man just picked up his jacket; he had been using it as a pillow. He started to brush it down, when Peter slapped the rod across his chest; "Get a move on. No one is interested in what you look like."
It was obvious by his face and stance, that McGill wanted to shove that bloody rod somewhere very unpleasant. But he just pulled on his jacket and then touched the woman's face. Nothing was said. He followed Peter and Jericho outside. "What do you mean 'three hours?' What fucking good is a reprieve of three hours?" McGill's New York accent was quite pronounced. Owen chuckled and turned to Wilson; "He sounds like you. The pair of you should get on like a house on fire." Wilson grunted; "I don't fucking think so."
6. Patrick 'Bends' McGill.
Tagger took the team back through the streets. Several of the settlers gestured to him, but said nothing. Nearly all stared at McGill trailing behind with the guard. Peter instructed Tabitha, to ensure that the Station Commander gave Tagger a little something for his co-operation; extra blankets and some new clothes, stuff that he could trade or keep for himself. Such gestures, normally strictly forbidden, could be authorised by someone of Peters high rank.
Tabitha nodded, she would arrange it when they returned to Guard Station 153. They gathered around the hatchway of the 'Jessabelle' and watched Tagger disappear back into the township. No one had thanked him and only Peter had actually spoken to him on the trip.
Owen rubbed his chin; he would certainly speak to Jericho - and the rest of the team - about the posters he had seen, pinned to crumbling walls and doors. They were asking for 'Volunteers' for a new and - hopefully - better life on the 'Outworlds' of the Dark Princes Empire. He wondered what the hell that was about!
McGill was placed in a rear seat with the not vey talkative guard. Owen settled in his seat and stared at McGill with some curiosity, he spoke quietly to Wilson; "I pulled his file from Human Records. His has six murders to his credit. All other gangsters, apparently he made a point of never taking out civilians. He appears to regard himself as some sort of soldier."
Wilson threw a glance at McGill; "He was a soldier - once. I also looked him up. He won the Silver Star in 1918 at the age of just nineteen. Took out a German machine gun post, whilst wounded, with a spade and a pistol. The bastards had apparently killed all his friends in a patrol they were on. Took out seven of them single handed, probably would have got the Medal of Honour, if he hadn't punched the officer out, who sent them on the damn patrol, for no apparent reason."
"Brave, but evil bastard." He added and looked back out the window. Alex looked back at McGill, sitting up in his seat and staring ahead. If a rival gangster didn't kill him on that fateful day, then he would almost certainly would have gone to the Electric Chair - eventually. He had a boxer's face with the usual broken nose and marks under both eyes. But those eyes were so green and bright. She wondered what had turned an apparently brave and loyal man into a paid killer?
Owen chuckled and said to Alex and Tabitha; "Do you know why he's gangster name is Bends? " Alex sighed, but said no anyway. Owen grinned; "Well, before he killed people; sometimes, he would bend their fingers right back - until they snapped; hence 'Bends'." Alex just shook her head in a little despair; Owen almost admired the man. His years in that bloody Monastery had done him no good whatsoever.
Owen turned to Jericho; "Is it ok to talk to McGill?" Jericho looked at Peter, who just shrugged his shoulders; "Yes, there's no harm in that. He'll probably keep the memory of any decent conversations. He'll be back here quick enough." Tabitha chuckled at that, which gave Alex a strange, little uneasy feeling.
"What turned you into a paid killer McGill?" Owen asked the man outright - subtlety wasn't his strong point - and McGill just stared at him, then slowly smiled at the boy. Finally he said quietly; "War and influenza." Wilson and Alex exchanged a glance, but said nothing. Owen screwed up his face; "But that don't make sense?" He muttered, a little disappointed by the answer. He slumped back in his seat and Wilson gently tapped his arm and pulled him close.
"You didn't go very deep on your background research, did you?" Wilson said quietly. Owen said 'no' softly and looked back at McGill. Wilson sighed; "He fought in one of the worst wars humanity could come up with. Living in a filthy, rat infested hole with the constant threat of death. Dead friends and colleagues littered around the place. Sometimes they couldn't bury them for weeks. Little food or water and constant real fear. He then returned home to marry his childhood sweetheart and found that she had died of influenza in 1919. He had no family or friends left. He had been bought up in a Catholic boys home - not known for the gentle way it raised its kids - in one of the toughest districts in New York. He came home a hero and was quickly forgotten; the Great Depression saw to that; they didn't need hero's anymore."
Wilson glanced at McGill and continued; "Firstly he made his living - if you can call it that - as a fair ground boxer. Knocked about four or five time a night for bed and board and some drinking money; maybe. Joining a gang must have seemed like a holiday on Coney island. Like the army, he was paid to kill other soldiers - gangsters - and I suppose that suited him just right. Ever heard the expression; 'there but for the grace of God'? " Owen slowly nodded.
Wilson almost smiled; "Secondly; he really enjoyed the work." He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, adding; "Wake us up, when we reach the station." Owen said nothing more and eased down in his seat.
Jericho smiled at Alex and they both knew that Wilson was going to make a cracking Inspector when the time came! Everyone turned to McGill as he chuckled loudly and gave a little clap. "So, its true, you temporary defectives are really a bunch of fuckwits. Well, except the big black fella. He knows a real bad one, when he meets him, and that makes me think about another expression; 'it takes one to know one'. I wonder what the big fella is hiding?" McGill grinned and eased back in his seat. He stared at Alex.
"That's about the best looking broad I've seen in years. A great fucking body and not ashamed to show it off. May dress like a fucking bar room tart, but I suspect there's real lady under the hooker's clothes. Give me a working cock again and I'll show her what a real fuck is." McGill grinned and stared up at the ceiling. The guard smiled and waited for the command from Peter.
He didn't wait long; Peter sighed and just nodded. The Guard touched McGill with his rod and the big man convulsed and dropped from the seat onto the floor; twitching and groaning. He had several fits and lay quiet. Alex rose from her seat, but Jericho waved her back down - saying nothing. Tabitha grinned and said to Alex; "He really had that coming. They keep a civil tongue in their heads or we remove it."
Alex just stared at the grinning woman. Then realised why so many of the settlers said nothing; they couldn't. She actually felt a little nauseous and really needed a brandy. She turned, looking out the window at the darkness - away from the darkness sitting next to her.
After a few minutes, the guard hauled the groaning McGill up and threw him back into the seat. "Your lucky stupid; if you weren't going on a little trip; that would have cost you that foul tongue of yours." He grinned and tapped his rod with real pleasure. He was now a very happy guard.
There were no further incidents with McGill and the flyer landed back at Station 153. Bugsy pulled open the external hatch and smiled at everyone as they departed. Alex wondered what she had done to end up here? Then remembered what Tabitha had said about the guards and staff here; they had all been followers of the 'Dark Prince' before they died. She pulled Wilson's jacket tightly around herself and walked with him back into the Guard Station. "I'll be glad to get home." She whispered to him. Wilson smiled and said simply; "Ditto."
In the small visitors area of the Guard Station they were served Coffee and waited for the call to board the 'Alexandra' for the return journey to Devil's Garden Reception Centre. McGill was dumped in a small cell; he certainly wasn't given any coffee. He couldn't drink it anyway.
Wilson and Owen watched Peter talking into his 'Mirror' - they were very similar to the one's carried by temporal Detectives - and he was clearly reporting that all was going well. They knew who he was talking to; Simon, the Dark Angel in charge of the garden. They knew this because he called the other one 'Sir', several times. Given Peter's position, the only person above him was, indeed, the Dark Angel himself. Peter walked over to them and gestured for Alex and Jericho to join them.
He spoke directly to Alex; "A suite has been put aside for you on the crawler Lady Alexandra, so that you and your companions can freshen up before we return to the Centre. There is going to be a little reception for the BOSS and you are all invited. His has provided a couple of his ladies to assist you and hopes that you will be pleased with the dresses provided. Let's get going." They followed him back out into the cold night air and boarded the waiting 'Alexandra'.
Wilson smiled at Alex; "A really big bloody moth to the flame." Both Owen and Jericho chuckled at that, but Alex said nothing. Everyone looked up, as the big red flyer took off from the flight deck of the station - it had an incredible gold dragon insigne painted down the sides - the personal emblem of the Dark Prince himself. It had just delivered the Dark Prince's ladies and of course; gowns for Alex's selection. She was not happy. From her window seat in the bar, she watched McGill loaded into the back of the crawler; like spare luggage into a baggage compartment.
7. DANCING WITH DARKNESS.
Everyone had noticed the extra security aboard the 'Alexandra'; there were three more garden guards in reception, chatting happily with the Receptionist and the two greeters. but it was the guards in neat black uniforms with gold buttons and dragon insignia that caught the teams attention. They were the Dark Prince's personal bodyguards. But it was the tall, strikingly beautiful woman in a full length black gown with all the accessories that really drew their looks. She was Bathsheba - a Dark Angel and she was heading their way.
Bathsheba was known to command the personal staff of the Prince and for now, kept a close eye on his 'Harem'. That would fall, eventually, to the Queen; when the Prince choose one. That simple little act - or rather lack of - was the talk of the 'Family'. His brother - the BOSS upstairs - had wanted his younger brother to 'settle down' for some time now. But the right human female had escaped the young prince; for now. It spoke volumes that he had not 'promoted' one of his three Princesses to the role.
Jericho gestured for everyone to rise. She greeted Peter quite warmly and then turned to Jericho. He bowed a little and said nothing until spoken too. "Mr. Tibbs, your reputation does preceded you. I guessed it would be you or old Doc Underhill that would have been sent. Everything satisfactory? have my people been looking after you and your team?" Jericho bowed again; "Yes, your Grace. The hospitality we have been offered has been superb and I thank you and your staff." The dark Angel smiled; "You are most generous Mr. Tibbs. Now this must be Lady Alexandra Cappanni?" She turned to Alex, who actually managed quite a good curtsey, considering the outfit she was almost wearing.
The Angel just stood for a good few seconds, looking Alex up and down. Then smiled; as Wilson whispered to Owen 'like a snake viewing a rabbit.' Owen just nodded. "You really are quite a beautiful human female. Absolutely stunning. Little wonder males fall at your feet." Alex didn't smile and said quietly; "Thank you, your Grace." She gestured for Alex to follow her; "David [the dark prince] has sent a couple of his girls with some gowns, for you to pick a suitable one for the reception. I know you will appreciate their quality and beauty." She chuckled; "The gowns, I mean. Not the ladies. Well, what ever you fancy my dear. Whatever."
Wilson turned to Jericho; "I take it we not on Earth at any time in its history, otherwise the shit would really hit the fan with dark Angels everywhere." Jericho nodded; "The Garden is not on earth at any time in its history." He gestured out the window and sighed; "This is Mars; millions of years into its past." Owen actually stood with his mouth open, staring at the reddish brown dirt and no moon. "Mars?" He whispered and slowly sat down; he needed a brandy.
Alex smiled and tapped Wilson's shoulder; "You haven't explained to our resident pervert about the ghosts in the devil's garden." She eased back in her seat and consulted her mirror. Owen stared at Alex, but spoke to Wilson; "Ghosts? what ghosts?" He asked with real curiosity in his voice. The big man sighed; "Sometimes there are errors - failures - in the system and the odd soul is lost on arrival. Sometimes, souls turn up there without warning and are lost in the 'Garden'. I understand that the 'Dark One' does allow his minions to carry out searches for them; but its rare to find one in the vast space that is the devil's garden. Everyone there refers to them as 'Ghosts'."
Omar turned around and grinned at the pair; "Don't forget the poor bastards of crashed Necrosubs' - I know that over the centuries, that two subs have crashed there and none of the crews were recovered. They're out there somewhere; now ghosts in the fucking garden."
Wilson smiled at Alex; "Being a beautiful young woman, you'll have a far greater chance of survival than any of us blokes; most of the devil's minions there are male humans." He gestured to her outfit; "hence the advice about your clothes." He chuckled and settled back in his seat. Jericho nodded to McAlister and he fired up the 'Scallywag'.
"Next stop hell!" McAlister shouted and pulled down a vivid red lever just above his head. The ship dropped through nothing at incredible speed - Owen actually felt sick; his stomach was now - apparently - just below his chin! he closed his eyes tightly as the craft appeared to drop further and faster. Then it stopped and his stomach was now - apparently - around his ankles. He felt awful and groaned loudly; he needed brandy urgently. Alex smiled and shoved her hip-flask under his nose. "Well. we got here without turning into bloody ghosts." She muttered as Owen took a couple of sips from her flask.
"Are we really there?" He whispered and leaned back in his seat; his legs were no longer shaking and his stomach had stopped moving about. Wilson grinned and released his safety straps; "We sure are baby brother - our day trip to Hell starts now!" Alex gripped Owen's shoulder and smiled; "Come on Owen, Simon and his staff are very good hosts to visitors like us - they almost view us as respected colleagues. You should enjoy - and learn - from our quick visit."
McAlister was up the ladder, unsealing the hatch as Jericho consulted his mirror; "OK people, lets get this done as quickly as possible. Mrs. Harris has Beef Wellington on the menu tonight." Owen felt sick at the thought of food [now that was a first!] and took another sip from the hip-flask before handing it back to Alex. Omar stood arms folded by the seats and grinned; "Mac and I will wait for you fellows at the Staff bar and restaurant; the food is very good there and the booze is completely free. The company can be difficult; not many have a real sense of humour down here."
"I'm last up the ladder - thank you gentlemen." Alex grinned and gestured towards the ladder. Omar and Owen both groaned; "Spoilsport." Jericho just chuckled and followed McAlister up the ladder, with Omar and Owen behind him. Wilson came next; then a happy Alex. They were in the reception area of the Devil's Garden.
Owen stood in amazement, staring at the huge stone interior of the Reception area; it appears to have been built from Neolithic stones of enormous proportions. The reception desks look like they were carved from single pieces of gold and white marble. The place was packed with people, formed into orderly queues at the desks. He then noticed, that there was two other 'Necrosubs' just behind where the 'Scallywag' had docked. That's when he saw they appeared to be standing on pools of dark water, he looked above each craft; there appeared to be similar puddles on the ceiling!
Wilson slapped him on the shoulder and pointed to a imposing desk in a quiet corner; the blue sign above said: 'Visitors Only'. "That's our one." He smiled at Owen and they followed the others over to the desk. The Receptionist was a young man in a neat black suit, white shirt and black tie. He smiled broadly and opened the large, ornate book on the desk and offered an old fashioned 'fountain pen' to Jericho; "Would you please sign yourself and your team in Inspector."
Jericho nodded and McAlister slapped him on the back; "We'll be in the bar when your finished." He turned to Alex; "You'd be better off staying with us. The drinks are on me and Omar." He stared at her breasts and licked his lips; "You'll love the place; it's like an old fashioned disco and strip bar. They play ABBA a lot here." Alex declined his generous offer; not very politely it must be said.
A little disappointed, McAlister shrugged his shoulders and with Omar in tow, headed for the bar. Owen had to chuckle; the place was called 'Dave's Inferno'. A bright red sign displayed above the two big red doors shouted that out. "I get it. The devil's real name is David; isn't it?" He spoke to Wilson, who just sighed; he guessed it was going to be a long stay; even if it only took a few hours.
The receptionist - quite politely - asked the team to wait until their hosts appeared. He checked Jericho's time piece and wrote its number down in the ledger. Every temporal Detective Inspector and above, carried a custom made fob watch. The time piece was their badge of office and authority to carry out their duties. Each Inspector received his watch from the 'BOSS' himself.
It was the first time, that both Owen and Alex had seen the fabled and almost legendary time piece. Jericho closed it with a snap and replaced it in his waistcoat pocket. Owen chuckled and said quietly to Alex; "Now I know why all Inspectors wear waistcoats; even the female ones!" Alex just smiled; she was watching the two people approaching the team from a door marked Staff Only'.
The male - wearing the obligatory black suit - was a tall African male with strange horizontal scars on each cheek. He was quite handsome despite those markings. The female was in a matching black 'business' suit with a very short skirt. She had amazing burnt copper coloured hair, tied up with a black ribbon. Her skin was very white; almost like milk. She had real dark eyes and thick red lipstick. She was easily considered a 'real beauty'.
Jericho smiled and held out his hand; "Hello Peter. I hope this isn't too much of an inconvenience?" Peter returned the smile and shook Jericho's hand with some apparent affection; "Your always welcome Jericho." He had a deep voice; he could have made a fortune doing movie talk overs! He introduced his assistant; Tabitha to everyone. Apparently Peter was her mentor; she was still learning the job. Her and Alex stood chatting; Tabitha was pleased that Alex knew the ropes here and had dressed appropriately!
That's when Peter dropped the little bombshell; their BOSS was here in person. He had arrived just a few minutes ago with his large retinue and had asked to meet the visiting detectives at some point, in their mission. The two minions never noticed how Jericho, Wilson and Owen all stared at Alex, when they were told the news.
Owen whispered to Alex; "Bit of a co-incidence that; he turns up when your on a mission here?" Alex just ignored him; but she was actually quite concerned. He [the Dark Prince] had made it clear, at their last encounter, that he wanted her for his personal 'Harem'. She tugged at her short skirt and felt a little vulnerable. She really wished she had stayed in her business suit with its wonderful trousers.
Peter pointed to a pair of large glass doors - guarded by at least a dozen staff [easily recognisable; all staff wore the same uniform] and said simply; "Shall we go?"
4. THE GARDEN.
They walked through the doors and the heat hit them; it was like stepping into an oven. Owen groaned; "Now I know how the Christmas turkey feels." Wilson chuckled; "I expect its a little climatization for the real thing." Peter gestured to their transport; sitting a few yards away. "Captain Stabbings and her crew will take us out into the garden." Owen just stared and Alex joined him; their transport resembled a large cockroach on wheels!
As they drew closer, they realised just how big the vehicle was. It towered above them, black and shining in the bright sunshine. "It must be five stories high." Owen said to Alex, with real amazement in his voice. Alex nodded and then noticed, at the front was a moveable set of steps, like you see at airports, with two people waiting to greet them. Both women, in neat black uniforms with the mandatory short skirts and like Alex; wearing knee length boots. They smiled broadly and said together; "Welcome aboard the 'Alexandra'."
Owen actually giggled at that, he turned to Wilson and said quietly; "Well, at least we can say, we have been in Alexandra!" But Alex had heard him and slapped his shoulder; hard. He just grinned and the team made their way up the steps and into the welcoming cool of the inside. The interior was like a hotel reception area. The two very pleasant ladies showed them the reception desk and departed. Wilson and Owen watched then walk away; their hips swinging gently in unison. "That's what I call a real pair of glorious ars…." Wilson never finished his sentence; he saw the look on Alex's face. He just smiled.
The receptionist on board was another young woman in the same uniform that the greeters wore. She smiled at Peter; "I understand that these guests are day visitors and do not require rooms, just access to the bar and restaurant Sir." Peter nodded and he asked the team to follow him. That's when they noticed the little clutch of staff around the door marked 'Staff Only'. They were all chatting and gesturing towards Alex. Peter waved them away and smiled at her; "They're a bit excited. They have obviously never met the person - in the flesh - that a crawler has been named after. The 'BOSS' [the other one] named this himself; after you apparently Detective."
Alex didn't smile and that didn't go un-noticed by her colleagues. Finally she said quietly; "I'm really flattered that he named a giant cockroach after me. Charming." Even Peter had to chuckle at that. For a minion, he still had quite a sense of humour. They were shown to the bar; it was clearly marked 'VIP's ONLY'. It was stunning; all wood décor and furniture to match. It would not have been out of place in a five star hotel.
Tabitha showed them to window seats and they were like large armchairs. Alex carefully eased herself into hers and stared out the window. There was nothing but desert - just endless miles of brownish red sand - she wondered about the strange humour of naming this place; the Devil's Garden'.
Everyone felt the gentle movement as 'Alexandra' got under way. The music playing - it was 'Lead Zeppelin' - stopped and a woman's voice was heard. She spoke with some authority in her voice; "Welcome above the crawler Alexandra, the newest crawler in the fleet and Captain Stabbings and her crew are pleased and honoured to welcome aboard Assistant Director Peter and his staff. We are also pleased to welcome the visiting Temporal Detectives; especially Inspector Tibbs and detective Alexandra Cappanni, who this very craft is named in honour of. Thank you and have a pleasant voyage."
A very smart, good looking young waiter appeared and took orders for drinks. Alex asked for a brandy and some cold water. He smiled and murmured; "You may have anything you wish Ma'am. Anything." Tabitha chuckled at that and ordered a large whisky and - again - some cold water. "The BOSS has instructed us, that you can order anything you like. Food, drink, hot bath, new clothes, anything. You are quite the VIP Alex." Tabitha smiled at her and pointed out the window adding; "Hopefully the Captain will take the Southern Pass to the 'Shadowlands' and you'll be able to see the mysterious ruins on the way."
Alex accepted her drinks from the young waiter who smiled broadly at her; he couldn't huis eyes off her over bust corset, that was showing off her magnificent bosom. Tabitha took her drinks and waved him away; with a smile. " What are the 'Shadowlands?" Alex asked her, quite intrigued by the name. Tabitha nodded; "Its a remote district here; to get some idea of its size; it's about the size of North America - all of North America."
Alex looked impressed, then asked; "The ruins?" Tabitha lowered her voice and sipped her whisky; "No one really knows. They are very ancient. In human years they are reported to be millions of years old. No one has any idea who built them or what they were built for. You'll be impressed by them, if you like mysterious old buildings."
Alex sipped her water and said dourly; "That's more Owen's department." The young waiter was back; taking orders for lunch. Alex asked for the menu and the young man just smiled; "Sorry ma'am, there are no menu's. Just order what you wish and it will be served." Tabitha leaned across Alex and whispered; "He really mean's anything, so order what you really fancy." Alex shrugged her shoulders and waved her brandy glass gently at him; " I would like Turbot with oysters, cabbage and bacon, with a decent bottle of plonk...sorry, white wine." He simply smiled and asked what Tabitha wanted.
Owen eased forward in his seat - opposite Alex and Tabitha - and said quietly; "Where the hell are they going to get bloody Turbot out here?" He sounded a little amazed. Tabitha ordered exactly the same and smiled at Alex; "The BOSS said you had exquisite taste Alex and I must agree with him. You are a real pleasure to host." Owen grunted at the waiter; "Fillet steak - rare - and chips [French fries] with all the trimmings." He saw the look of disappointment on Alex's face. "You could have ordered something with a little more imagination." Alex said. "I ordered all the trimmings." He said; defensively. Alex just sighed and sipped her brandy.
That's when she noticed that Jericho and Peter were deep in conversation. They clearly appeared to know each other very well; that puzzled her a little. But then she glanced out the window and saw the small group of people, standing by the roadside. They were in rags and wore no shoes. They looked like vagrants and beggars who had fallen on real hard times. They stood in silence as the 'Alexandra' passed. They didn't wave or make any gestures.
Alex turned to Tabitha, but Tabitha spoke first; "Settlers here. They tend to gather in groups now and again, for company I suppose. Heaven knows what they have to talk about, if they've been here for a while."
Alex just nodded. The 'Settlers' - as they were called - were condemned souls awaiting their final judgement. Alex also knew that they suffered all the human emotions and needs still. They hungered and knew thirst. They could feel the heat and the bitter cold of night. They still had sexual feelings and all their memories from their time amongst the living. But - and this was a big but - They could not physically eat or drink or copulate. That was all gone. They could dream and desire, but never realise any of them - ever.
The basic rule of the Garden - for visitors - was simple; you gave them nothing - clothes, shoes, trinkets or words of comfort. You must not help or assist them in any way. The penalty was simple too; you became one of them, if you broke the rules.
The waiter appeared and asked everyone to follow him to the dinning room. Everyone rose and followed him. Alex took another look out the window at the disappearing group of 'settlers' and despite whatever evil crimes they had committed; she could still feel a little sorry for them - they had been fellow humans after all. Now they were just creatures of unfulfilled desires and they could never change.
The meals were superb and Alex got exactly what she wanted; that did amaze Owen. After dinner, back in the bar, Jericho briefed his team about what lay ahead. They were going into the 'Shadow lands' and there meet an 'agent' who ran the place; he was a condemned soul that apparently could be trusted; like 'Trustee's' in normal prisons for the living. He would take the team to where Mr. McGill had been placed.
Through the windows, Owen and Wilson could see the passing settlements; made of brick, stone and canvas. Each one had little groups of ragged humans standing or wandering about. Not one condemned soul waved or gestured or even acknowledged the 'Alexandra' as she passed. But occasionally, they saw a much smaller version of the 'Crawler' they were aboard, parked near one of the ramshackle townships. Tabitha explained it was guards from the centre, sorting out various problems with the natives. Some of the guards did wave as the big crawler passed them.
Owen was a little puzzled and finally asked Tabitha outright. What was the difference been the condemned souls and their past actions [when they were alive] and the guards and staff, that ran and policed the place? Wilson thought that was a cracking question; and said so!
Tabitha smiled - a little - and pointed out that the staff and guards had all been followers of the 'Dark Prince' when living and had 'sold' or given their souls to him. That way, when they died, they were never collected and thus, never faced the judgement of the Duty Death Angel. It was a sort of 'get out of jail - free' card. She summed it up, with an old expression, popular amongst the staff; "Better dark than judged."
"No bloody wonder the devil is so popular." Muttered Owen and that did make Alex and Wilson smile.
5. THE SHADOW LANDS.
Night had started to fall as the 'Alexandra' passed a huge signpost, erected by the side of the road. It stated; 'DISTRICT 9. GUARDIANS ONLY'. Tabitha pointed out that the temporal Detectives Mission team had special permission to pass into the District. But the team would have to transfer to a 'Guardian' flyer at the Guard Station ahead. The 'Alexandra' would wait at the station for them to return with McGill. They would be escorted by Guards throughout their short stay; the place was especially dangerous at night.
That remark really puzzled Owen; "How can it be dangerous? everyone is bloody dead." Peter chuckled at that and pointed out that some of the 'residents' were carrying horrific injuries from fighting amongst themselves. Some had lost limbs, eyes, hands and even heads! Their existence was miserable enough without adding the burden of crippling disability to it. Plus, these people have absolutely nothing to lose - nothing." Owen nodded his understanding.
The 'Alexandra' pulled up outside the station and awaited entry through the large black gates. The place was constructed from huge, stone blocks and towered above the crawler. There was a tall metal watchtower at each corner and they shone bright lights down upon the crawler. "It's like fucking Alcatraz' without the water." Muttered Wilson.
Once inside the compound; the gates were closed and they were greeted by three Guards. They all saluted Peter [the Deputy Director of the Garden] as the team decamped from the bus. The Station Commander seemed extremely nervous that such a high ranking official from the Reception Centre would turn up at his station [No. 153] - especially at nightfall. The two Senior Guards with him made no secret of their sudden and intense interest in Tabitha and Alex; especially Alex.
Wilson whispered to Alex; "See what me mean Alex? What we have been telling you? If you ever got stranded here; you wouldn't be short of some real protection. The buggers in the garden would tear you apart just for the fun of it - they have no use for women - even beautiful ones." Alex slowly nodded her agreement; the Guards and Staff retained all their human desires and many of the males would certainly protect and shelter her; for the sexual favours she could bestow upon them. it really didn't make her feel any safer.
The Station Commander showed the team to the flight deck of the station. He was a big man, clearly - originally - Japanese or Chinese in descent. He introduced them to the flyers who would take them out to where McGill had been dumped. The Pilot was a certain tall, athletic looking male who smiled broadly at Alex and Tabitha. He was called 'Mackenzie' [no one really used surnames on the 'Dark Side'] and admitted he was from Glasgow; when alive.
Owen groaned; "Are all the bloody pilots we meet from Scotland?" Wilson slapped him on the back; "As long as the fucker can fly really well, I don't care if he's from bloody Nazi Germany!" Owen smiled at that. Wilson really fucking hated Nazi's - but then who didn't?
They all stared at his craft; called 'Jessabelle'. it resembled a large black mosquito and was about the size of a single decker bus. Standing by the open hatchway was the Co-Pilot; a young woman of African descent and Mackenzie introduced her as 'Bugsy'. They gave each other a 'high five' and Mackenzie pointed to Alex and Tabitha, slapping a kiss on Bugsy's cheek; "You've a real couple of rivals here my girl."
Alex smiled; 'Bugsy' was actually quite a beauty. Bugsy pushed him away and smiled at the girls; "Never mind bloody Casanova; welcome aboard the 'Jessabelle'. We'll be flying for about two hours. Your man has been assigned to camp 477 - its a mix of males and females - mostly newcomers. We're just waiting for young 'Tagger' show up. He's the Trustee there."
Everyone climbed aboard and found a seat. Alex and Tabitha sat together; they were actually getting quite friendly, considering they were on totally opposing sides. Wilson sat next to Owen - who insisted on a window seat - whilst Peter and Jericho sat just behind the pilots. The last two rear seats were empty - for now. Everyone could feel the engines come to life and a small vibration could be felt through the seats and arm rests. There was very little sound from the engines.
Peter stared at the hatchway as two figures squeezed through; one was a rough looking guard, with a big nasty scar running the length of his right cheek. The other was a young man - dressed in little more than rags - who said nothing and stared at the floor, as he made for his seat, but stood next to it.
"He knows where McGill is in the camp?" Peter asked the guard, who saluted and stood by the empty rear seats; "Yes sir, Tagger says he was put near the old towers." Peter nodded and gestured for the pair to seat. The hatchway closed softly and Bugsy checked it before taking her seat next to Mackenzie. Everyone could feel the craft lifting vertically and increasing in speed. They were airborne in seconds.
"We'll be flying for around two hours before we reach settlers camp 477. The weather is reported as clear. But don't hold your breath over that forecast. Storms can come up in minutes and can be really nasty for hours. If we shout to use the seat harness's; then slap them on!" Bugsy's voice came over the intercom and everyone chuckled.
Owen stared through the window; Guard Station 153 - lit up like Blackpool Tower - was fast disappearing into the darkness. He settled back in his seat and said softly to Wilson; "I wonder what our young friend 'Tagger' did to get quarantined and for how long?" Wilson shrugged his shoulder; he certainly didn't know.
But Tabitha turned in her seat and said quietly; "Tagger was in the Russian army. His patrol entered Berlin in 1945 and was responsible for raping two German women - young girls really - he received quite a light quarantine, considering your Angel Margret heard his case. You know what she's like about such matters. But, apparently, he didn't want to take the girls, but the rest of his patrol made him. He was killed - along with most of that patrol - by some Hitler youth just days later. He only received a human century in quarantine, all the others are here for some time more."
Alex stared at the young man - sitting head down - next to the burly guard who was picking his teeth with some determination. The boy was no older that Owen. She sighed and stared out of the window; there was nothing but darkness - no lights anywhere and then she realised there was no moon! She wondered where - exactly - was the 'Garden' located?
That's when Alex noted a small string of little white lights on the sand below. She turned to Tabitha; "Is that one of your patrols down there?" Tabitha didn't reply, but Peter shouted to the cockpit crew; "Lights on the sand. Call it in." Bugsy's face appeared by the hatchway door and nodded. "Yes sir." was all she said. Tabitha leaned back in her seat and didn't smile; "Illegal night movements by gangs of smugglers. We must have caught them out - this was an unscheduled flight - they were not expecting us up here - obviously."
Owen leaned forward and said to Tabitha; "What are they smuggling?" Tabitha smiled; "Trinkets, blankets, bits of furniture, clothes and stuff like that. Books especially, they're like gold down there. But anything that can make their miserable lives a little more comfortable. Which is not allowed or tolerated." Alex stared back at the ground; The lights had been extinguished -they must have seen the 'Jessabelle'. The rest of the flight was quite uneventful; apart from Wilson snoring loudly! Owen woke up the big man by shaking his arm. "We're here." He said and grinned; the 'Jessabelle' was starting her descent to the sand.
The craft landed softly - just a little bump - and the team spilled out onto the sand. Camp 477 looked like a third world village that had hit really bad times - really bad times. There was a small group of settlers watching from the crumbling brick entrance. They made no sound or gestures; they just stood and watched. Peter produced a simple looking black rod from his jacket and turned it in his hands. Both Tabitha and the unpleasant looking guard did the same. Peter turned to the temporal detectives; "I know, I don't really have to tell you, but keep your wits about you. This place is full of human rats and this is THEIR nest." He smiled and gestured to Tagger; "After you boy." The guard shoved the boy hard and tagger gestured for them to follow them.
The place was lit with little yellow lamps and the smell was appalling; Tabitha held a hankie to her face on a coupkl of occasions. Alex was clearly made of sterner stuff and that made the guard smile. He certainly would be having some pleasant or rather, unpleasant thoughts, about what he would like to do to her, after this shift had finished. Tagger lead them through the silent streets, Alex stared at the hopeless people; men and women, huddled in doorways, wrapped in ragged blankets or scraps of heavy cloth, against the chill of the night.
Wilson pulled off his jacket and Alex - really gratefully - wrapped it around herself. The slow witted guard smiled to himself and offered his jacket to Tabitha; who just stared at him and waved his gesture away. She may not like the smell, but she could suffer the cold, rather than accept 'charity' from a lowly guard. Now, if Wilson had offered his coat to her; well, that would be a very different matter.
Tagger stopped outside a small brick and canvas covered hut, below two ruined brick towers, whose purpose was totally unknown. He gestured inside and stood back. Peter tapped the broken wooden door mantle with his rod; "McGill. Patrick McGill, get your sorry arse out here." He shouted and stepped back. they could hear movement inside and the dirty door flap was pulled back. A young Asian women - in utter rags and almost skeletal in appearance - appeared and pointed inside. Then she folded her arms and stared down at the sand.
Peter and Jericho peered inside. A big white male was pulling himself from the dirt. He was dressed quite well compared to the others. "You McGill?" Jericho asked, pulling out his mirror, to confirm the man's identity. The man simply nodded. Satisfied that it was McGill, Jericho nodded and said quietly; "Your coming with us. You have been given a three hour reprieve." The man just picked up his jacket; he had been using it as a pillow. He started to brush it down, when Peter slapped the rod across his chest; "Get a move on. No one is interested in what you look like."
It was obvious by his face and stance, that McGill wanted to shove that bloody rod somewhere very unpleasant. But he just pulled on his jacket and then touched the woman's face. Nothing was said. He followed Peter and Jericho outside. "What do you mean 'three hours?' What fucking good is a reprieve of three hours?" McGill's New York accent was quite pronounced. Owen chuckled and turned to Wilson; "He sounds like you. The pair of you should get on like a house on fire." Wilson grunted; "I don't fucking think so."
6. Patrick 'Bends' McGill.
Tagger took the team back through the streets. Several of the settlers gestured to him, but said nothing. Nearly all stared at McGill trailing behind with the guard. Peter instructed Tabitha, to ensure that the Station Commander gave Tagger a little something for his co-operation; extra blankets and some new clothes, stuff that he could trade or keep for himself. Such gestures, normally strictly forbidden, could be authorised by someone of Peters high rank.
Tabitha nodded, she would arrange it when they returned to Guard Station 153. They gathered around the hatchway of the 'Jessabelle' and watched Tagger disappear back into the township. No one had thanked him and only Peter had actually spoken to him on the trip.
Owen rubbed his chin; he would certainly speak to Jericho - and the rest of the team - about the posters he had seen, pinned to crumbling walls and doors. They were asking for 'Volunteers' for a new and - hopefully - better life on the 'Outworlds' of the Dark Princes Empire. He wondered what the hell that was about!
McGill was placed in a rear seat with the not vey talkative guard. Owen settled in his seat and stared at McGill with some curiosity, he spoke quietly to Wilson; "I pulled his file from Human Records. His has six murders to his credit. All other gangsters, apparently he made a point of never taking out civilians. He appears to regard himself as some sort of soldier."
Wilson threw a glance at McGill; "He was a soldier - once. I also looked him up. He won the Silver Star in 1918 at the age of just nineteen. Took out a German machine gun post, whilst wounded, with a spade and a pistol. The bastards had apparently killed all his friends in a patrol they were on. Took out seven of them single handed, probably would have got the Medal of Honour, if he hadn't punched the officer out, who sent them on the damn patrol, for no apparent reason."
"Brave, but evil bastard." He added and looked back out the window. Alex looked back at McGill, sitting up in his seat and staring ahead. If a rival gangster didn't kill him on that fateful day, then he would almost certainly would have gone to the Electric Chair - eventually. He had a boxer's face with the usual broken nose and marks under both eyes. But those eyes were so green and bright. She wondered what had turned an apparently brave and loyal man into a paid killer?
Owen chuckled and said to Alex and Tabitha; "Do you know why he's gangster name is Bends? " Alex sighed, but said no anyway. Owen grinned; "Well, before he killed people; sometimes, he would bend their fingers right back - until they snapped; hence 'Bends'." Alex just shook her head in a little despair; Owen almost admired the man. His years in that bloody Monastery had done him no good whatsoever.
Owen turned to Jericho; "Is it ok to talk to McGill?" Jericho looked at Peter, who just shrugged his shoulders; "Yes, there's no harm in that. He'll probably keep the memory of any decent conversations. He'll be back here quick enough." Tabitha chuckled at that, which gave Alex a strange, little uneasy feeling.
"What turned you into a paid killer McGill?" Owen asked the man outright - subtlety wasn't his strong point - and McGill just stared at him, then slowly smiled at the boy. Finally he said quietly; "War and influenza." Wilson and Alex exchanged a glance, but said nothing. Owen screwed up his face; "But that don't make sense?" He muttered, a little disappointed by the answer. He slumped back in his seat and Wilson gently tapped his arm and pulled him close.
"You didn't go very deep on your background research, did you?" Wilson said quietly. Owen said 'no' softly and looked back at McGill. Wilson sighed; "He fought in one of the worst wars humanity could come up with. Living in a filthy, rat infested hole with the constant threat of death. Dead friends and colleagues littered around the place. Sometimes they couldn't bury them for weeks. Little food or water and constant real fear. He then returned home to marry his childhood sweetheart and found that she had died of influenza in 1919. He had no family or friends left. He had been bought up in a Catholic boys home - not known for the gentle way it raised its kids - in one of the toughest districts in New York. He came home a hero and was quickly forgotten; the Great Depression saw to that; they didn't need hero's anymore."
Wilson glanced at McGill and continued; "Firstly he made his living - if you can call it that - as a fair ground boxer. Knocked about four or five time a night for bed and board and some drinking money; maybe. Joining a gang must have seemed like a holiday on Coney island. Like the army, he was paid to kill other soldiers - gangsters - and I suppose that suited him just right. Ever heard the expression; 'there but for the grace of God'? " Owen slowly nodded.
Wilson almost smiled; "Secondly; he really enjoyed the work." He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, adding; "Wake us up, when we reach the station." Owen said nothing more and eased down in his seat.
Jericho smiled at Alex and they both knew that Wilson was going to make a cracking Inspector when the time came! Everyone turned to McGill as he chuckled loudly and gave a little clap. "So, its true, you temporary defectives are really a bunch of fuckwits. Well, except the big black fella. He knows a real bad one, when he meets him, and that makes me think about another expression; 'it takes one to know one'. I wonder what the big fella is hiding?" McGill grinned and eased back in his seat. He stared at Alex.
"That's about the best looking broad I've seen in years. A great fucking body and not ashamed to show it off. May dress like a fucking bar room tart, but I suspect there's real lady under the hooker's clothes. Give me a working cock again and I'll show her what a real fuck is." McGill grinned and stared up at the ceiling. The guard smiled and waited for the command from Peter.
He didn't wait long; Peter sighed and just nodded. The Guard touched McGill with his rod and the big man convulsed and dropped from the seat onto the floor; twitching and groaning. He had several fits and lay quiet. Alex rose from her seat, but Jericho waved her back down - saying nothing. Tabitha grinned and said to Alex; "He really had that coming. They keep a civil tongue in their heads or we remove it."
Alex just stared at the grinning woman. Then realised why so many of the settlers said nothing; they couldn't. She actually felt a little nauseous and really needed a brandy. She turned, looking out the window at the darkness - away from the darkness sitting next to her.
After a few minutes, the guard hauled the groaning McGill up and threw him back into the seat. "Your lucky stupid; if you weren't going on a little trip; that would have cost you that foul tongue of yours." He grinned and tapped his rod with real pleasure. He was now a very happy guard.
There were no further incidents with McGill and the flyer landed back at Station 153. Bugsy pulled open the external hatch and smiled at everyone as they departed. Alex wondered what she had done to end up here? Then remembered what Tabitha had said about the guards and staff here; they had all been followers of the 'Dark Prince' before they died. She pulled Wilson's jacket tightly around herself and walked with him back into the Guard Station. "I'll be glad to get home." She whispered to him. Wilson smiled and said simply; "Ditto."
In the small visitors area of the Guard Station they were served Coffee and waited for the call to board the 'Alexandra' for the return journey to Devil's Garden Reception Centre. McGill was dumped in a small cell; he certainly wasn't given any coffee. He couldn't drink it anyway.
Wilson and Owen watched Peter talking into his 'Mirror' - they were very similar to the one's carried by temporal Detectives - and he was clearly reporting that all was going well. They knew who he was talking to; Simon, the Dark Angel in charge of the garden. They knew this because he called the other one 'Sir', several times. Given Peter's position, the only person above him was, indeed, the Dark Angel himself. Peter walked over to them and gestured for Alex and Jericho to join them.
He spoke directly to Alex; "A suite has been put aside for you on the crawler Lady Alexandra, so that you and your companions can freshen up before we return to the Centre. There is going to be a little reception for the BOSS and you are all invited. His has provided a couple of his ladies to assist you and hopes that you will be pleased with the dresses provided. Let's get going." They followed him back out into the cold night air and boarded the waiting 'Alexandra'.
Wilson smiled at Alex; "A really big bloody moth to the flame." Both Owen and Jericho chuckled at that, but Alex said nothing. Everyone looked up, as the big red flyer took off from the flight deck of the station - it had an incredible gold dragon insigne painted down the sides - the personal emblem of the Dark Prince himself. It had just delivered the Dark Prince's ladies and of course; gowns for Alex's selection. She was not happy. From her window seat in the bar, she watched McGill loaded into the back of the crawler; like spare luggage into a baggage compartment.
7. DANCING WITH DARKNESS.
Everyone had noticed the extra security aboard the 'Alexandra'; there were three more garden guards in reception, chatting happily with the Receptionist and the two greeters. but it was the guards in neat black uniforms with gold buttons and dragon insignia that caught the teams attention. They were the Dark Prince's personal bodyguards. But it was the tall, strikingly beautiful woman in a full length black gown with all the accessories that really drew their looks. She was Bathsheba - a Dark Angel and she was heading their way.
Bathsheba was known to command the personal staff of the Prince and for now, kept a close eye on his 'Harem'. That would fall, eventually, to the Queen; when the Prince choose one. That simple little act - or rather lack of - was the talk of the 'Family'. His brother - the BOSS upstairs - had wanted his younger brother to 'settle down' for some time now. But the right human female had escaped the young prince; for now. It spoke volumes that he had not 'promoted' one of his three Princesses to the role.
Jericho gestured for everyone to rise. She greeted Peter quite warmly and then turned to Jericho. He bowed a little and said nothing until spoken too. "Mr. Tibbs, your reputation does preceded you. I guessed it would be you or old Doc Underhill that would have been sent. Everything satisfactory? have my people been looking after you and your team?" Jericho bowed again; "Yes, your Grace. The hospitality we have been offered has been superb and I thank you and your staff." The dark Angel smiled; "You are most generous Mr. Tibbs. Now this must be Lady Alexandra Cappanni?" She turned to Alex, who actually managed quite a good curtsey, considering the outfit she was almost wearing.
The Angel just stood for a good few seconds, looking Alex up and down. Then smiled; as Wilson whispered to Owen 'like a snake viewing a rabbit.' Owen just nodded. "You really are quite a beautiful human female. Absolutely stunning. Little wonder males fall at your feet." Alex didn't smile and said quietly; "Thank you, your Grace." She gestured for Alex to follow her; "David [the dark prince] has sent a couple of his girls with some gowns, for you to pick a suitable one for the reception. I know you will appreciate their quality and beauty." She chuckled; "The gowns, I mean. Not the ladies. Well, what ever you fancy my dear. Whatever."
Wilson turned to Jericho; "I take it we not on Earth at any time in its history, otherwise the shit would really hit the fan with dark Angels everywhere." Jericho nodded; "The Garden is not on earth at any time in its history." He gestured out the window and sighed; "This is Mars; millions of years into its past." Owen actually stood with his mouth open, staring at the reddish brown dirt and no moon. "Mars?" He whispered and slowly sat down; he needed a brandy.
The 'Alexandra' reached the Reception Complex and parked near the main doors. The moveable staircase appeared and the two greeters stood at the bottom and thanked everyone for travelling on the 'Alexandra'.
Owen knew that 'Mr. Simon' was the Dark Angel in charge of the garden and he certainly knew who the 'HE' was; the Dark Prince himself. A couple of guards helped drag McGill away; he certainly wouldn't be meeting the grand visitor. He was secured aboard the 'Scallywag' by McAlister and Omar; strangely enough, the pair weren't invited to the reception! They would wait on their craft until required.
Jericho noticed that the two huge piano black doors at one end of the reception area were slowly opening. It revealed the Arboretum; it looked like a ancient woodland with a circle of standing stones its centre piece. The team were impressed; very impressed. There were lamps hanging from trees and fairy lights decorated bushes. Just behind the doors was a large brick and stone 'Summer House' filled with tables and two bars apparently. Owen was actually speechless - that was a first!
Jericho turned to the pair; "If this is just his little playroom here - in this dismal place - can you imagine his palace?" Wilson whistled through his teeth; "He certainly knows how to live." Then thought about the condemned wretches outside in the other 'Garden'. He was a little disgusted by the comparison.
The team noticed that the female staff actually curtsied to Alex, when she came into the Reception area. That certainly wasn't normal protocol. Jericho and Wilson exchanged a worried glance; they could smell a rat - a large Princely one - behind that.
But when they saw Alex approaching them, she also left them impressed. She was wearing a stunning full length, white, backless gown of silk and gold. The bodice was cut quite low and it certainly showed off her magnificent breasts. Her dark hair was piled up and held by a an exquisite diamond tiara. Around her neck was a gold and silver necklace of stars. It looked priceless - a master piece of the jewellers art. She walked slowly in white heels, holding her dress with one hand, whilst the other held a clutch purse encrusted with diamonds and pearls.
The front split in the gown gave a glimpse of pure silk stockings with each step. Alex was dressed like a Queen and you could actually hear little gasps as she passed. " I think, I'm in fucking love." Wilson muttered and wiped his face.
Jericho stood by Alex and whispered; "Best behaviour please Alexandra; remember whose world we are now in." Alex nodded; she just wanted to go home, but she would play her part; diplomacy demanded it. The rooms were filling with guests; including Court ladies dressed similar to Alex; but, as Owen pointed out; 'They couldn't hold a candle to our Alex.' Jericho sighed; "Yes, and that could be the problem here."
Waiters were serving glasses of champagne and Alex took a glass and asked about McAlister and Omar; she chuckled, when told they were sulking aboard their ship. "Sweet Jesus, they have a band." Owen said as music started coming from the Arboretum. Wilson just laughed; "Its probably a bloody orchestra." And the big man was right.
The place suddenly fell silent; their 'BOSS' was here. The Dark Prince strolled in with Dark Angels Simon and Bathsheba at his side. There was a small greeting line, with Peter at its head and the Prince shook hands with everyone. Alex chuckled as she watched Tabitha trying to curtsey properly in her short skirt. Jericho spoke softly to Alex; "Keep your wits about you, I think our Dark Prince is up to something. He has made it clear that he wants you - anyway he can."
Alex nodded, she clearly remembered the encounter with the Prince and having to ask him for a favour, in restoring Wilson and Jericho back to the team. [see: the episode; 'Lucy London's lost soul.'] She glanced at herself in the one of the grand mirrors; he had picked her clothing right down to the panties. That made her shiver a little.
That's when Alex realised that Bathsheba was gesturing to her. "Here we bloody well go." She muttered and handed Owen her drink [which he finished in one hit] and walked slowly across the room. Jericho and Wilson smiled; there was not a pair of eyes looking anywhere else - including the Dark Prince.
Alex curtsied and the Dark Prince took her hand and kissed it. Jericho, Wilson and Owen were all straining to hear, what the conversation was between the two; but they couldn't make it out. The Prince placed her hand upon his arm and the pair walked into the Arboretum. Inside the circle of stones was a dance floor. He swept her into his arms and the pair danced - beautifully together - it must be said. The guests were all clapping and cheering, then one by the one other couples joined them on the dance floor; starting with Simon and Bathsheba.
Wilson and Jericho exchanged a concerned look and were joined by a very happy Peter. He stopped a passing waiter and handed everyone more champagne, then told the young women to fetch more. "Your in a good mood Peter; your BOSS happy with everything in the Garden?" Peter nodded and sipped his drink; "Most pleased. Its nice when one's efforts and commitments are appreciated." He gestured to the dancing pair; "The place is full of gossip and rumour about your young lady - which comes as no surprise - she's utterly stunning and knows how to behave at this level. That's really important Jericho, my old friend, really important. He's princess [he has three of them and about another thirty girls in his harem] are real beauty's, but have no real class. Not like young Alexandra."
Jericho and Wilson exchanged another concerned look and Jericho managed to smile; "Do tell?" What delicious rumour and gossip is that?" Peter grinned; "That our Prince has finally found a real Queen." He raised his glass, adding: "To young Alexandra; Queen of Darkness - hopefully." The team raised their glasses slowly and stared at the dancing pair, who were clearly centre of attention at this party. Finally Wilson whispered to Owen; "The really big shit has hit the fan full on." Owen just nodded and downed another glass of champagne. Jericho just watched the pair dancing and realised his mirror was buzzing.
He walked away and found a quiet corner and answered; it was Angel Margret. Jericho watched as Peter and his partner Todd, took to the dance floor. The young man looked resplendent in his evening suit. They danced smiling at each other. Jericho finished his brief conversation with the Angel and walked back to Owen and Wilson. He didn't smile; "We've been recalled. The Angel wants us back with McGill, with or without Alex." Wilson ran a hand over his face and gripped Jericho's arm; "Who's going to get her? We are NOT leaving her here."
Jericho managed a weak smile; "Down to me I'm afraid. Goes with the Inspectors job. You and Owen get aboard the 'Scallywag' and tell McAlister to fire up the engines." He stared at the dancing pair and added softly; "I've always wanted to piss on that bastard's strawberries. I just hope I don't end my days wandering around this fucking cesspit." Then made his way into the Arboretum; slowly.
Owen dropped through the hatch, followed by Wilson who shouted at McAlister to start the engines and be prepared to 'drop' as soon as Jericho and Alex came through the hatch and sealed it behind them. The pair were eating - what appeared to be - a takeaway curry. McAlister sighed loudly; "The fucking party sounds like it has ended with a bang." He grinned at Omar, who took their plates to the disposal hatch. McGill was sitting in his seat - saying nothing - the crew of the 'Scallywag' had handcuffed him to it. Wilson sat next to him and smiled; "Hope you've got a strong stomach." McGill just grunted.
McAlister stared at the monitor for the external camera's and chuckled. Jericho was running full tilt towards the 'Scallywag' with Alex in tow - holding her hand - whilst she ran with her skirt pulled right up and her heels gone. He shook his head; "I may not like him, but he's got balls of steel to go up against the fucking dark prince; especially over something the bastard really wants."
Everyone turned and stared at the hatch as Alex came down the ladder. Owen grinned, but sounded a little puzzled; "Nice white lace panties, but why do they have bloody pearls sewn onto them; who the hell is going to see them? - Apart from Alex and who ever does her laundry?" McAlister and Wilson exchanged a despairing glance and both muttered; "Bloody monastery."
Alex jumped into her seat; quite breathless and straightened herself up. Jericho closed the hatch and sealed it, shouting; "Drop for fuck sake McAlister!" and leapt into his seat, snapping his harness shut. Omar stared at the external camera's monitor and ran a hand over his face; "Mac, I'd really fucking drop right now!" McAlister pulled the big red lever above his head and shouted; "Yippe-ki-yay motherfuckers!" The Scallywag dropped at some speed.
Jericho sighed loudly; "Bloody Bruce Willis has a lot to answer for." Owen groaned. He really wished he hadn't drank all that champagne. McGill shouted; "Yes! Fucking Yes!" He clearly loved it - well, he was a murdering Psychopath after all - and had always loved the big rollercoaster on Coney Island!
8. INTERVIEW WITH THE ANGEL.
The team sat on the clean marble seats outside the Angels office, somewhat bored. Jericho checked his mirror and then smiled at Wilson; the big man was slumped against the wall - arms folded - staring down the almost empty corridor. "Waiting for what seems an eternity, goes with the job. You'll get use to it. I must have spent the equivalent of a couple of lifetimes sitting here; waiting for the Angel to see me." Jericho said quietly to Wilson, who nodded, then sat up straight. Mr. Colgate, the Angel's personal Secretary, had appeared in the doorway of her private office. He gestured for them to enter.
Jericho threw a glance at Alex; looking very smart in her blue and white business suit and had to smile. That's one hell of a woman - just like Elizabeth was - little wonder the Dark Prince had 'thrown his dummy from the pram' over her. It was now, clearly apparent that the Prince wanted her; not just for his Harem, but as a Queen. The ramifications of that desire were enormous. His brother; The BOSS wanted his wayward younger brother settled down and taking a Queen - like Alexandra - would be definitely be a step in the right direction. Except Alexandra was having none of it!
The team lined up before Angel Margret's desk. Unusually, she had several glass sheets laid upon it. All contained Confidential Reports or forthcoming Mission summaries. She didn't look up as Mr. Colgate announced the arrival of Inspector Tibbs and Team 74. The door slid silently shut behind them and Mr. Colgate stood quietly behind the angel's back; his face expressionless.
Angel Margret sighed and sat back in her chair; hands clasped in her lap. She didn't smile. "Firstly, I must congratulate you and your team Inspector, upon the successful finding and return of the McGiff fellow." Jericho coughed; "McGill, Ma'am. It was McGill." He said quietly and refrained from smiling. The angel just stared at him and tapped a piece of glass upon her desk. "Secondly, there's the little matter of my Detective Constable Cappanni. Though, little doesn't really cover the storm that has closed in around her." She straightened up in her chair and picked up another piece of glass. To human's; it appeared blank.
"Detective Cappanni was the main topic of discussion at HIS Privy Council meeting." She explained, jerking a finger skywards, adding: "The unanimous verdict, and their advice to HIM was simple; give her to the Prince. That would solve a great many problems with the young prince and make himself very happy." She leaned over her desk and clapped both hands upon it. She looked straight at Alex; who stared at the floor in silence. "Except young Cappanni was not very willing in this matter. No, willing is the wrong word; downright hostile is a better term, I think."
She addressed Alex directly; "Telling the young prince to shove his marriage proposal up his..." She picked up the glass sheet nearist her and peered over the top at Alex. "Sorry, told him to 'poke his proposal up his dark arse' is not the language of a future Queen or the diplomatic answer expected, no, required of one of my Detectives." Owen and Wilson couldn't hold it any more; they giggled a little. The angel just stared at them; they both whispered; "Sorry Ma'am." and stared at the floor.
Alex slowly held up a hand and the angel nodded at her. "I don't want to be Queen of Hell, Ma'am." She said simply and looked back at the floor. The angel sighed and placed the glass sheet down. "With the situation between himself and those two son's of his, you would eventually be Queen of all this." She gestured around with both arms, adding; "Queen of all Existence. Do you realise that any woman in his harem, would probably murder their grandmother for that position?" Alex said nothing. the angel continued; "Any one of his three princesses would do in their own children, for the title of Queen and you casually, tell him to poke it up his dark arse?"
That was the final straw, Jericho, Wilson and Owen all chuckled. Alex just shrugged her shoulders; "Sorry Ma'am; he caught me unaware with that damn proposal and I just couldn't think of anything diplomatic to say....and well, it just came out. Sorry Ma'am." The angel actually groaned and placed a hand against her cheek, just staring at Alex, finally she said; "You would have been handed over to him; except Queen Mary just wouldn't have it. She pointed out that 'Free will' must be allowed to exist in humans. Fortunately for you, young lady; HE agreed with his Queen. Otherwise you would be now resident in the Dragon Palace as Queen - willing or not."
She turned to Jericho and really didn't smile; "Then, there's my Inspector." She picked up another oiece of glass, stared at it and replaced it on her desk; "Let her go fuckwit is not the language I expect one of my senior Inspectors to use when addressing a high family member. I do have that right Inspector? You've not been misquoted there, have you?" Jericho shook his head and said nothing; but now Alex, Wilson and Owen all chuckled. Then they all muttered - very quickly - "Sorry Ma'am."
She turned back to Alex; "Apparently, you removed your heels and threw them at him and his two senior Dark Angels. Then pulled your skirt up, exposing your underwear to everyone, and ran for it - with your inspector - and made your getaway like thieves in the night? I do have that right? " Alex nodded. The angel folded her arms and sighed quite loudly; "At least you returned the necklace; its a family piece - quite priceless - normally worn by high females of the family. It was yours girl, a little gift from that totally besotted young Prince, though heavens know why, with your behaviour to him."
The angel gathered the pieces of glass together on her desk and said quietly; " I think, I shall refer to you as 'Lady Cinderella' in future. Apparently, the prince keeps your shoes on his desk." Now that did make the team laugh outright. The angel just sat back in her chair and gestured towards the door. "There's a mission file being sent to the lighthouse, as we speak. Get it done without causing a major rift in the family or a diplomatic incident with the other side. Go on, just go."
As the team headed for the door, she called after Jericho; "You best keep a close eye on our girl in future. He will not take this laying down, Watch yourselves." Jericho nodded and the team spilled into the corridor; they couldn't keep the laughter in anymore. Mr. Colgate stood outside the door - unsmiling - he spoke directly to Jericho; "I think the common feeling amongst the angel's staff is that; 'she's covered your arse's - yet again.' Yes, I think that's what being said. Goodbye Inspector." He disappeared down the corridor and just for a second; they all thought, they heard the usually dour man laughing.
Jericho sat in his big armchair and sipped a well earned brandy and stroked Mr. Parker, who lay sprawled across his lap. He picked up the brown paper file and re-read the next mission. It could wait until another day. He smiled to himself despite the fact that team 74 had been banned from any future trips to the 'Devil's Garden' - well, just for the immediate future. Anyway, The main sucess was that Alexandra was not now 'Queen of Hell' and lived to fight another day.
He glanced over to the card table and the three were arguing - again - about certain points of the mission. John was dealing the cards with an amused smile on his face; especially when Owen raised the question of Alex's panties - again. He couldn't understand why they were decorated with pearls, since only Alex [and who ever did her laundry - Ruth - would see them]. He argued; what was the point? Alex finally said, in some frustration; "They came with the damn dress; I suppose he wanted me to wear them." That puzzled Owen and then he seemed quite shocked; "You were going to show him your knickers! With yourself still in them? That's unbelievable."
Alex gave up and sat staring at her cards. John chuckled; "Knowing the Dark Prince's reputation, I really don't think he wanted to just look at them." He said quietly and laid down a full Royal Flush - again. Alex slapped her cards down and folded her arms; "Can we please drop the subject of my damn panties for once." That remark creased young Owen up; "Drop the subject!...her bloody panties were the subject....drop the subject!" He laughed and took a sip of his brandy and then realised no-one else was laughing - just staring at him.
Wilson dealt the cards out and remembered what he had said to himself, when he saw Alex in that dress, walking across the floor towards him. He sighed and could easily understand why the young Prince wanted her. He had always told himself that he wouldn't be 'another moth to the flame', but the damn flame was edging closer every day. He looked up from his cards and saw Alex smiling at him; "Your call." Was all she said. He nodded and tossed two custard cream biscuits onto the table. "I'll see you and raise you one." He smiled and could still see her; walking towards him in that dress, smiling.
"Despite the 'diplomatic incident' with the Dark Prince, the mission was considered a success. Team 74 was successful in returning Patrick McGill to reclaim those extra three hours of life, that he was accidently denied. Temporal Detective Alexandra Cappanni remains an object of fascination and desire for the Dark Prince and that will always be a danger to her and the Team."
W.A.S.
Patrick 'Bends' McGill was returned to the 'Devil's Garden after his three hour reprieve. He had a quarantine of nearly three hundred human years to complete. But he was a clever man and volunteered for the Dark Prince's 'Outworld' project. His current whereabouts are unknown.
Alexei Andreyushkin - 'Tagger' - was sixteen, when he was killed in the fighting to take Berlin in 1945. His part in the rape of two young German girls cost him a century in quarantine. But the boy was clever and resourceful, becoming a Trustee at Camp 477. He was released, a little earlier, because of his 'good behaviour'. He re-entered the Human Life Cycle and is now an Amazon dirt farmer.
Despite the 'incident' between Team 74 and the Dark Prince; its business as usual for the Devil's Garden and its staff. McAlister Semple and Omar Kassam still make regular runs to the place in their Necrosub; the Scallywag. They often carry Temporal Detectives to the garden; to interview souls for missions they are currently on. But they do remember Team 74's trip with some affection and much amusement.
SPECIAL APPEARENCE BY Prince David, the Dark Prince, as himself.
SPECIAL APPEARENCE BY Prince David, the Dark Prince, as himself.
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