One Thing Leads To Another

Location unknown: Rhyaad de’Annar, who had found himself hurled back through time – back to the moment of his turning – has been given solace in a most unusual place. A temple within another dimension: Dreamlands. There in the temple of the crimson monks and azure veiled priests he has found himself once more – repaired the emotional breakdown of his brief visitation to the past. And as he prepares to return once more to the small, ethereal, costal town of Collnsport, Maine, unaware that tragic events are even now taking place at the Miskatonic University library, he is about to take a most unexpected detour. A detour that is the first step on a journey of monumental consequence and discovery.

Soundtrack: [www.youtube.com]

The bright light changed into a kaleidoscopic swirl of light and he stepped forward. As he felt himself falling into the void of illumination he was surprised to hear a voice. Not his own, nor one of the monks – but a woman’s voice.

The woman, speaking with a British accent, was asking someone, “Do you have him?”

The small, metallic chamber is infused with flashing, blinding light, tall pillars pulsate and there is an odd sound like a wind one would expect to hear only in deep space – the sound of wind blowing past stars.

Vanessa Coats, the head of the Ruling Cabal of the Diogenes Club turns and takes a step over to the observation window and looks at the man working the console on the opposite side. He is dressed in an off white double-breasted lab coat of his own design, with matching trousers and shoes – the colour palette is of his own choosing. White and off white. His white hair looked unkempt, wild, as did his eyes as he looks up at the huge circular device in the center of the metallic chamber in which Vanessa Coats stood.

“Dr. Rotwang—do you have him!” She asks again, her voice rising irritation.

“Ja. Es ist nicht so einfach, wie es scheint, Frau Chairman. Ve are mixing the streams of zwei vortexs.” He tells her, his intense eyes looking up from the console to the chamber’s circular portal. The ever-increasing pulsation of the columns of light has begun to create a rhythmic strobe effect upon the metal walls.

Rhyaad blinked for a moment, then answered the question, even though it had not been directed to him. “If by him you mean me: the answer would be yes.”

The voice comes from the circular portal and Vanessa Coats turns to look at it, yelling back over her shoulder, “Do not lose him.”

“Ve have him now, look to the portal.” The ex-member of the nefarious Zwielicht Helden, the megalomaniac inventor, Dr. Rotwang says confidently.

Vanessa Coats watches now as Rhyaad de’Annar steps through the portal and onto the platform before it.

“Obviously this is not Collinsport.” He remarks he stands on the metal grate looking around him at the metallic chamber, the strange light columns, the observation window and the white-haired gentleman beyond – who had a fascinating metal automaton, which had the appearance of a nude woman. “Who are you and what power do you have to divert me from the course I was taking from the Dreamlands?”

“Mr. de’Annar?” Vanessa Coats says stepping forward, “I do hope you are no worse for the interruption.”

Suddenly aware that they had manipulated a portal transportation, re-directed it somehow, he quickly looks at himself to be certain he is all there: “No, it was quite smooth actually. But again, I must ask who you are and why you have interfered with affairs to bring me here?”

“I am Vanessa Coats.” The tall woman in the black suit, grey shirt and man’s tie introduces herself as she takes another step forward on the metallic grating of the floor, “I am the Chairman of the Ruling Cabal of the Diogenes Club – and I am sorry for this little detour – but we need to talk.”

“The time space vortex compensation is complete, Frau Chairman. There is no temporal vave distortion.”

She turns to look back at the German inventor, “Thank you Dr. Rotwang.”

The doctor bows his head and then turns to speak to his automaton.

Rhyaad looked about, trying to take in all the bizarre machinery and devices. “Of course. Who else on Earth would have such technology . . . But you?” he fixes his gaze on Vanessa Coats. “Where is Kaye? She is the leader of your Club, I thought. It was she who brought me to the Dreamlands.”

Her eyes narrow at the mention of the name Kaye, “This is one of the reasons we need to talk.”

She takes a step toward the door, and motions toward it with her hand, “If you would, there is a conference room just beyond, where we can talk. Oh and do be careful. There are very many things in here that do not like being touched.”

“Oh? I take it Mrs. Kaye has committed some breach of protocol? Well that’s no surprise. But why should you require my services?” He steps down the metal steps of the portal device, and carefully threads himself through the pulsating light pillars, and begins to follow her, slowly, carefully, trying to take in every detail, well aware Gregory would love to have a look at this place.

Where was he? London?

He thought not.

Vanessa Coats leads the way through a series of glass doors, past a security guard stationed at the door leading to a sedately lit room. She enters and motions for Rhyaad to take a seat at a round conference table. “As I said earlier, I am sorry for having to interrupt your journey – but I do have need of your assistance.”

Rhyaad steps over to the table to watch as Coats moves over to a chair at the table, near a stack of folders that have apparently been placed there for this meeting. “At the moment I am concerned about two of our Extraordinary Members.” She unbuttons her black jacket and takes a seat.

He examines the room first before sitting across from her. “Do you normally use such technology to snatch people out of space-time? You could have simply let me return to Collinsport and called me. There is such a device as the telephone you are aware, no doubt.” He looks at her warily, “And I still don’t see how my assistance could be of much value to you.”

She looks at him rather unemotionally.

“Extraordinary Members . . . is that your highest level? But—do go on . . . ”

“We have several levels, Mr. de’Annar. The Ordinary Member, those that give the Club it’s featureless face to the world at large, those who know nothing of our true nature. The Valued Member, those who do know of our mission and undertake them on behalf of Her Majesty. The Very Valued Members, those who have performed exemplary service. And, then there are the Extraordinary Members.”

“Like Elizabeth Báthory and the mad Dr. Praetorius?” Rhyaad tells her, letting her know he is well aware of certain aspects of the club.

“Yes, well – you see, our founder, Mycroft Holmes was of the opinion that certain missions required the services of individuals with particular talents – and that perhaps fiends are far more plentiful, and at times more effective, than heroes. If one were to find the right key to turn them so to speak. And so to that end we do vet those who received such status very carefully – I can assure you. Or, so we try.”

He sat back.

“As to our method of communication. Well, I felt it best to speak to you in person and before you returned to Collinsport – as I said I have some concerns regarding two of our members. To the point, do you trust Nicole Collins?” She settles back into her chair.

“Is Catriona Kaye one of them?” he asks, leaning back, smoothing out the maroon velvet robe and crimson sash and was putting aside what appeared to be some replica of a magic wand—but was suddenly very startled by her question. The mention of Nicole – “Of course I do! You know I have worked closely with her, or you would if you were truly the head of this . . . club. You would know that.”

She crosses her legs and looks at him, “I did not ask whether you worked with her, or how closely, but whether you trusted her; but as you have mentioned Catronia Kaye—twice so far—perhaps we should begin with her.”

“Perhaps we should.” He tells her still wondering what she meant by trusting Nikki.

“In answer to your question, yes, Miss Kaye was the former Chairman of the Diogenes Club. And no, she is a Very Valuable Member.”

“Not Extraordinary? Really? She was the instrument of my induction into the Dreamlands, a dimension of which I was previously unaware.”

“Which interests me very much, Mr. de’Annar.” She sits back and interlaces her fingers, “As to how that is even possible. Now, tell me. How did she look to you? Did she look like a 67-year-old dead woman?”

“As a matter of fact, no. She did not. She looked remarkably young for her age. But remember of whom you ask this question. Do I look my age? I know there are many ways to extend life beyond the normal limitations.”

“Yes,” She smiles, “I am well aware of the reason you look as you do. Whereas I have no clue about Catronia.”

He frowns – more riddles.

“To be brief, about a year ago, Catriona, against all proscribed protocols began a secret investigation, and investigation that she personally undertook—an investigation into something to which this day she has yet to reveal and we are to uncover.”

“Why did you choose the words dead woman? Do you think she is using some form of vampirism or necromancy to restore her youth?” He considered those words carefully. “Perhaps she has discovered something she wishes to keep for herself.”

Vanessa Coats nodded, “I am not sure, none of us are. But, to continue and to answer your question, it was during this clandestine investigation that she was shot at very close range three times in the chest.”

“Oh!” Rhyaad leans forward interested, “And did she die?”

“The shooting took place in Westminster Cathedral, where it is reported that a clergyman acting rather quickly called Medical First Response – and apparently helped keep her alive until they arrived. Of course, I say reported, for to this day regrettably that clergyman cannot be found.”

He listened to her, concerned that he did not appear rather too odd in his robe and sandals, hoping he didn’t look as if he had just emerged from some sort of retreat – which in fact was exactly the case.

“She was taken to hospital and placed on life support.” She continues, “Doctor’s gave us no hope. At that decisions had to be made—”

“But . . . and this is the important point . . . was she at any point clinically dead?” Rhyaad asks.

“Before her sister could make the decision of whether to continue evasive procedures, Catriona expired.”

“She died.” Rhyaad said evenly.

“For 60 seconds, Mr. de’Annar.”

“Dead. A full minute – then what happened?”

“Suddenly, all of the medical equipment attached to her began to explode. Watches and clocks nearby stopped. All the mirrors on two floors of the facility were shattered. Circuit breakers to the entire building were tripped.” She tells him evenly, “And then, Catriona Kaye returned from the dead. Only, when she was examined her wounds were healed and it was determined that she was now physically 30 years old.”

“What!” He looked disturbed and shocked, the first time his odd calm had been perturbed since his entrance. “I have heard of necromancy to bring back the recent dead . . . but nothing like what you describe!”

“Neither had we.” Vanessa Coats replies, “You see, that is why she was removed from the Chairmanship and has been – shall we say under close observation.”

“Club house arrest, so to speak?”

“Precisely.” Vanessa Coats nods, “Owing to who she was we – we wanted to be sure. You see we do not even know if she is Catronia Kaye. But if she is, then—she is still a Very Valuable Member of the Club.”

“So you suspect she discovered something new? But these explosions, they suggest the operation of some outside force. Frighteningly like . . . ” he continues, but her words stop him for a moment. “So you think it might be another entity that has possessed her body?”

“Which brings me back round to my first statement, my concern for two of our Extraordinary Agents.”

“But Kaye is not an Extraordinary Member – thought, now she might should be. Perhaps you need to reconsider that.” He muses, and then looks across the table at Coats, “A remarkable story – but how does the possible possession of Kaye affect my Nikki?”

“Miss Collins? She is – she is a different matter all together.” The head of the Ruling Cabal tells him, “She holds membership in our club you see, owing to Miss Kaye’s persuasive suggestion to the Ruling Cabal, as well as, a message left for us from Mycroft Holmes.”

“She isn’t in any trouble, is she?” Rhyaad asks, “I must return to Collinsport to find out what happened to her . . . to us.”

Vanessa Coats sits forward, “There are three sitting members of the Ruling Cabal Mr. de’Annar – Miss Collins holds a card and her membership by a vote of 2 to 1. I can assume you can more than accurately guess how I voted.”

His eyes narrow.

“She was conceived by an rather radical experiment Mr. de’Annar, I am sure you are aware.” She told him, her gaze seeking to detect any subtle reactions.”

“Yes – I am aware.”

“You know that project was authorized by Catriona Kaye.”

“Project? Authorized? “ The replies, “I thought it was part of a cure for her mother.”

“Angelique?” Vanessa Coat’s replies, “Yes – ostensibly that was its origin – but Dr. Pretorius’s involvement? That was Kaye’s doing I am afraid. She authorized his participation, as well as obtaining permission to allow their access to the Egdon Heath Collection – the Undertaking’s mausoleum – in order to gather certain material from Erzsébet Báthory. But the question, Mr. de’Annar, for me has always been, how was it done? Dr. Praetorius thought eccentric is brilliant, but the reanimation of an egg harvested from an over four-hundred-year old vampiress? Surly even you must beg the question – just where did they get the technology, or more precisely, where did they get the formula?”

She passes over a file from the several on the conference table. It is marked with the name: Marceline de Champeraux.

“Have you ever heard Miss Collins mention this woman?”

He looks at the name on the folder. “I think so. Somehow I have heard the name before. But I have no idea who she is.” He opened the file. “I suppose since you let me see this you wish for me to know about her.”

“She is sorceress of some magnitude – a member of a family that only truly began to grow in power and prominence during and after the Second World War. Until recently she lived in France. She owns various international corporations – her financial reach is significant.”

Coats sits back watching de’Annar carefully, “About a year ago, Miss Collins became involved with her. One night, something untoward happened in Marceline’s home – and Miss Collins was involved. We suspect a rift, a gate, was opened. We know a young woman was murdered, as a sacrifice. Has Miss Collins spoken of this?”

“A sorceress. Great. I would have thought that by this century magicians and necromancers would not be so common.” He peered at her sharply. “I cannot believe Nikki would be willingly a part of a ritual sacrifice. No, I haven’t heard anything like that. And just exactly what do you mean by involved with this woman?”

Rhyaad, flipping through the pages within the file, sees references to Jérôme Ménard. Something about munitions– the First World War and the family’s growing wealth. Then, there are terrible losses in 1932. The family’s fortunes nearly wiped out owing to the Depression. He sees the names Aremelle Ménard and Joseph Salpêtrière. References to travels to French Algeria and Berlin. Then there are various reports about something to do with occult studies for the Germans in the Second World War. Die Karotechia appears on several classified documents – apparently taken from captured German war files. Accused of collaboration—but the charges were dismissed. Suspected bribery. What does all of this have to do with Nikki? There is a sudden change in the family’s fortunes as a vast financial empire begins. It appears to be all very, very matriarchal. He notes that in 1981 Marceline is born. Wasn’t that the same year as Nikki? Marceline was apparently kidnapped in 1998 and rescued in 1999. She takes over control of the family’s businesses upon her mother’s death in 2001. Munitions. Hotels. Mining Operations. Insurance companies. Pharmaceuticals. Health Care. They are seemingly into everything, Rhyaad thinks. He sees that she co-authored a book on the occult. He turns a page and now there are references to Nicole.

She must have read the book – she reads everything.

Yes, that is how she came to seek her out – he thinks as he comes to the confidential reports from the Parisian police and their murder investigation.

There is a crime scene photograph of a young woman lying in a field – a single stab wound directly into the heart. It certainly sounds ritualistic. Witnesses indicate that the young woman knew Marceline – she is reported as having stated that she was going to a party at the Champeaux’s the night of her murder. Apparently, there was not enough evidence to support charges against either Marceline de Champearux or Nicole Collins, though both were suspects. There are several photographs of Nicole and Champeaux – together. Cafes. Restaurants.

He shook his head as he read the file. “I just can’t believe Nikki would be part of a murder ritual. Unless this Champeaux had her under some sort of spell, compelled her against her will. You said she was a sorceress.”

“You are aware of her desires to find her parents? It was she, Mr. de’Annar, who sought this woman out for assistance in that effort.” Vanessa Coats tells him, “Miss Collins—she has read some very vile books Mr. de’Annar. Books that corrupt nearly all who have ever read them. She has in her possession a book, the translation of which, we know caused the death of three German translators back in 1938. And yet – she is unaffected?”

Rhyaad nods, “Yes, I am aware of her obsession. I understand it. But I still have a hard time believing she would participate in murder to open a rift to him.”

“Him?”

“Her father.” He says.

Vanessa Coats looks at him, “I will be rather blunt Mr. de’Annar. Catriona Kaye trusts her, and even though she is no longer the Acting Chair, she still has persuasive powers with those on the Ruling Cabal, she talked the others into giving Miss Collins membership. But, sir, I do not trust her at all.”

“That would have been the objective . . . to attempt to open a rift to this city, this dimension where Barnabas is . . .. ” He ponders aloud looking at the folder, the picture of the murdered young woman. He looks up at Coats, “And yes, I am well aware of how vile those books are.”

“Are you aware she has on more than one occasion met with aspects of Nyarlathotep?”

“I don’t hold that against you, Miss Coats.” He says about her admission of distrust, “In fact I admire some honesty, for a change. And as for Nyarlathotep, it’s not like we had a choice in the manner . . . like she had a choice. You can’t just throw a godlike being out on his ear. He came to her.”

She raises an eyebrow, “Yes, he does. Doesn’t he? He does come to her. And as the head of a Crown sanctioned agency of British Intelligence, tasked with the protection of the realm and this planet’s existence from occult menaces, from threats born in other dimensions, from magical perfidy and the Deep Dark Deadly Old Ones. I question that. Why? Why does he come to see her? Nyarlathotep is one of the most insidious creatures that we face, and . . . yet he talks to Miss Collins, on several occasions.”

“What are you suggesting?” Rhyaad asks.

“If he has corrupted her, a member of this organization, I need to know.” She narrows her eyes, “We have our own difficulties, as it is, opposition leader Ed Milliband and Labour, have had the most vocal opposition to our existence since he found out about us. Deputy Prime Minister Nick Clegg and the Liberal Democrats, question the club’s espionage activities into places like the United States, an ally, but continued to agree, in this time of budgetary crises, to keep the Club funded. While of course, the Prime Minister, David Cameron, well, he of course wants membership. But, we luckily still answer as an agency to the sovereign.” She told him, “I can not afford a scandal Mr. de’Annar. Not one of that monumental proportion – a member of this organization aligned with an Outer God for God knows what purposes!”

“And does this intelligence agency have any idea what Miss Collins, albeit with the help of Nyarlathotep, prevented from occurring recently?”

“I know what the report says—from Doctor Praetorius, who has his own agenda and opinions on various matters—but . . . I have also been made aware that Count Andreas Peftoi’s ashes were collected and the underground occult chatter we have obtained indicates that his essential salts have been used to bring him back to life.” She tells Rhyaad, “I know that Richard Pickman was allowed to escape. That Simon Orne was never captured and no one knows where he is – or what he is up to. That Louis Castainge has only just recently appeared in Collinsport with financing from Champeaux. And so, for all of the supposed reported success, it would appear as if these villainous necromancers and their allies have all been allowed to escape and re-group.”

Rhyaad sits in silence.

“I am about to ask you to do something, which you may find distasteful, but I need to you to watch Nicole Collins and let me know if she is involved.”

“That is most disturbing – that you think Peftoi is restored. He was so insane he would have brought forth this one who’s name you don’t say and his Lost City. Pickman as far as I know has no more interest in them, having failed to obtain what he wanted. Blair – or Orne, well, I have my own particular distaste for that man – and he will not have long to live after I find him. But if they re-group, they may attempt it again? Confusing and disturbing.”

“Yes – quite.” She tells him.

Rhyaad narrowed his eyes a bit. “I would watch Nikki Collins at any rate. To be sure she is all right. And if she is not, I shall tell you. But know that I feel about Doctor Praetorius as apparently you feel about Nicole. I do not trust that man.”

“He is Kaye’s man. Not mine. His loyalty is to her, always has been, always will, and I do not trust him either.” Coats leans forward, “You must understand Mr. de’Annar – there is a fraction here within the organization which remains loyal to Kaye – and I have to honor that – at the moment.”

“Indeed, you are ironic. You name your club after the philosopher who walked the streets of Athens by noon with a lamp, looking for an honest man. But so far I have seen more deceit than honesty in your order, and now you tell me you don’t even trust each other.”

“What you see is the political aftermath of Catronia Kaye’s shooting.” Vanessa Coat tells him, “Those bullets were also well placed into the heart of this organization. I have worked with and beside her for years, I would do anything for Catriona Kaye, but I strongly suspect—no, I know—that the woman walking around as Catronia Kaye is not Catronia.”

“I see. Well I could try to see what I think of the new’Kaye. Perhaps I might detect something in her aura. Perhaps not.”

“Which brings me back around to the other Extraordinary Agent I am concerned about—Victoria Wren—who appears to have suddenly disappeared about the time Catriona died. I think she may have been working with her on whatever it was she was investigating . . . “

“The author writing a book on ghosts?’ Rhyaad asks looking at her bewildered, “She is an agent?”

“An author?”

“Yes, she’s at Collinwood doing research on the Collins family records.”

Concern etched on her face, she passes over a very thick file marked Victoria Wren.

He looks at the picture and is now very aware that the woman in the photograph is not the woman in Collinsport calling herself Victoria Wren.

“There must be some mistake. This picture is not Wren. I have seen her in David’s house.”

“There is a Victoria Wren at Collinsport?” Vanessa Coats asks and looks at the photograph, “And she is not this woman?”

“That can’t be . . . Wren has been in Collinsport for some time. Unless. . . ” He quirked his eyebrow. “Unless the woman in Collinsport is an imposter. But why would anyone impersonate Wren?”

Vanessa Coats sits forward, her hands atop the conference table, “Victoria Wren is Randolph Carter’s daughter. The reason I had you re-routed here, and I will tell with considerable doubt as to whether I should, as it might compromise an agent it took us a very long time to get into Dreamlands, but I understand you were taken there by a woman with a silver key, is that correct?”

He nodded. “Catronia Kaye somehow diverted me, much like you did. And she possessed a silver key.”

Vanessa Coats for the first time sits back stunned, “Kaye? You say Catriona Kaye brought you to Dreamlands. Kaye has the key?”

“If you mean a silver key, about 5 inches long, covered with symbols, one which seems to be magic . . . yes.” He tells her looking through the file, “The key, that is . . . seems to be magic. I have a certain sense of such things. Comes with the pointy ears.”

Vanessa Coats takes the file back that she just handled him and flips through it to photograph of Wren. It is a shot of some distance but there is a red circle about Wren’s hand in order to highlight something she is holding – a silver key. Vanessa Coats points to it, “This key?”

Rhyaad studies it. “I’d say yes. Probably. But photographs of magical objects are just photographs. They don’t radiate anything.”

She sits back thinking, “Catronia Kaye has the key . . . oh my bloody god – it – it is so bloody obvious—but it makes no sense!’ She seems to be thinking aloud.

“So why would Kaye have Wren’s key? Why would someone else in Collinsport be impersonating Wren? Is it possible the real Wren was abducted and her key stolen?”

Suddenly she looks at him intensely, “Have you seen an very old, and very mysteriously odd looking clock?”

“Um, yes, but it has nothing to do with these people.”

“Where and when did you see it?”

“It belongs to a gentleman whom you do not know, who has no connection to these people. I have not seen the Wren in Collinsport with a clock, no.”

“Mr. de’Annar – I am going to ask you to do a few things for me – it is vital.”

He nods. “You obviously need some investigation done.”

“Yes – ”

“A sleuth might deduce that someone has possessed Kaye, kidnapped Wren, stolen her magic key, and someone else is now posing as Wren in Collinsport.”

“By happenstance, Catriona Kaye has been sent to Collinsport. She is currently under the supervision of one of our Valuable Members, Agent Nine. I would like you to see her—find out what you can. But most importantly watch her.”

“Kaye or this Agent 9.”

“I would say now, both. Second, there is a ancient house in Kingsport, it sits high on Kingsport Head, please see what you can find there.”

“Or, you mean the entity that occupies the body of Kaye?”

“Yes—because if I am right, she is not Catronia Kaye.”

“I fail to see how you can be so sure, but I’ll take your word for it for now. But as for this house, why? What do you suspect may be in it?”

“It belongs to Wren, given to her by some horrid old man that seemed to own it for a very long time – I have had agents go through it, but your – with your gifts, you may find something they have missed.””

“The house in Kingsport?”

“Yes, and make no delay in searching it.” And then she looked at him as her eyes narrowed once again, “And lastly, I need to you to—do something as I said you may find most distasteful—but I need you to spy on your friend. I need to know if Miss Collins is working for Nyarlathotep.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Technically speaking, we all were doing Nyarlathotep’s bidding, myself included, not so long ago. For you anyway.”

“That is the horror of his trickery—he at times is useful before he springs some deadly trap.”

“I doubt she would have anything more to do with him. She is the one who told me not to make any bargains with him. I trust Nikki. But as I said I will keep an eye on her.”

“I know you distrust Praetorius –and he does, as I said, have his own agendas, but he is loyal to Kaye so in that regard he should be of some help.”

“Now about this house . . . is there some detail you are leaving out? Something that might spring up and grab me? Nightgaunts? I’ve had unpleasant surprises before.”

“No, it should be deserted – the only object one should be concerned about is her clock.”

She leans back and motions to the white haired inventor, Dr, Rotwang through the glass partition of the conference room. He doctor rises and walks through the maze of glass doors, past the guard standing at the door of the conference room.

“So I’m looking for a magic clock?” Rhyaad asks, as the white-haired inventor enters and looks at him.

“You have no idea vhat that clock is Herr de’Annar.” He tells him.

“And who is this pale gentleman who dares meddle in interdimentional portals?” Rhyaad asks, “Does he have any idea what he could have done to me had he made a slight mistake?”

“Ja – ich bin mir bewusst, But this clock it is ancient magic. Technology called magic as it comes from before the beginning of the vorld.”

“Since clocks were invented by humans, that statement seems impossible.”

‘This Gerät it appears as a clock – but it . . . who is to say vant appearance it had before it vas removed from Leng.”

“Let me guess. It’s a portal or portal key?”

“Let’s say you have to enter the clock to understand what it is.” Vanessa Coats tells him. “Doctor, Kaye has Wren’s key?”

“Vhat?” He looks at Coats, “She has frau vren’s key? How is this possible?”

“So this clock, what does it do?” Rhyaad asked, “You seem so concerned about it.”

“Let’s say—it adheres to the mind of whomever it decides to bond with and once that happens, you can go anywhere.”

Dr. Rotwang nods, “Ve are talking anyvhere, Herr de’Annar—in time or space. It is 6-dimensional.”

“I see. Sounds even more powerful than a portaling device. But perhaps the reason you have not found it is because it is not there.”

“It should answer only to Wren as it was given to her by her father along with the Key.”

“If someone abducted Miss Wren, they should wish to steal this clock also, I would think.” He looks at them suddenly, “And what happens when you put the key and the clock together?”

“I do no vant to think vhat one could do vith it if they have it.”

“Find the clock, it will find Wren. Find Wren and you should find the clock, they are in mental communication at all times – or so, it has always been.” Vanessa Coats tells him,

“I’m actually not a detective. But it sounds more and more like you have some enemy who has possessed Kaye, abducted Wren, and wishes to obtain these two devices together.”

“And Frau Chariman have you not put her in Collinsport – vhere we know there are agents of Petofi.”

She frowns, now beginning to second-guess herself.

“A question, Herr Rotwang. How old are you?” he peers sharply.

“Doktor. Doktor Rotwang.” He says, “And my age is not germane to this conversation.”

“You sound like another Doctor I know,” Rhyaad says, and then looks over to Coats, “Well, this just smells worse and worse, doesn’t it? But please, the next time you wish to see me, invite me. Do not risk scattering my atoms by interfering with my interdimentional transport.”

“I am even more certain that I was correct in intercepting you Mr. de’Annar.” She looks over at Rotwang, “You can place him in Collinsport.”

Outside the conference room a glass door hisses open and an old man wheels a mop-bucket trolley through the glass doors and into the antechamber. He nods at the guard who nods back.

“I would also like you to find out what you can about that night in Paris with Miss Collins and Marceline de Champeaux.”

“When exactly was this night?” Rhyaad asks taking note of the man with the mop and bucket – in a secure portal chamber?

“It happened one week before Miss Collins was attacked—murdered and turned by her mother.”

“While she was still human. Interesting.”

She passes over a folder that says Nicole Collins.

“Any reason why I should not just ask her about it openly?” He opens the folder to see a photo of a young woman outside her London Town House with an older red-haired woman, who is smoking a cigarette. The townhouse is large and in a rather exclusive part of London, which shows her wealth.

“No—perhaps that is the best way, she trusts you, she may confide in you.”

He will sees a grisly photo of her dead in a dirty gutter on a Parisian street.

He frowns and shudders at the photo, having been told all to personally of the agony she felt – the horror of that night.

There are several other photos and then one of her sitting at a cafe with a man recognizes to be the avatar used by Nyarlathotep.

He points at the photo and looks to Coats, “Date of this photograph?”

She takes the photo and turns it over, “The day before her attack*

He sighs. “That’s not good. Are you sure there is no mistake?”

There is another photo, and she is with him again, at a different café.

He turns it over and looks at the date.

‘Yes, that one is the night of the incident at Marceline de Champeaux’s.”

Rhyaad sighs and shakes his head, “So you suspect that Nichole Collins was working with Nyarlathotep and a sorceress before she was attacked and turned?”

“It does raise the question, does it not, Mr. de’Annar.”

The old man pushing his mop trolley stops and begins mopping. Rhyaad hears him mumbling,” Ffycin Saeson ac yn eu hesgidiau yn fudr. . . [F**king English in muddy boots]

The guard outside the door watches him.

“But you know who turned her?” Rhyaad asks rhetorically.

“Yes – her mother.” Vanessa Coats tells him, “Which is yet another question for me, supposedly at the direction of the Brides of Dracula – but, how did they know of Nicole Collins and Bathory’s connection? How did they know they were mother and daughter? That was eyes only at the highest levels. And, even more importantly how did they know she was in Paris?”

The old man looks at the guard, “Beth yr ydych yn edrych ar blentyn?” [What are you looking at child?]

Rhyaad looks out the glass door at the man and wrinkles his nose. “Do you usually have smelly old men who mumble in Celtic languages wander in during conferences?”

“Eh?” The old man says, “Bah!”

“I am sorry – we are having a meeting in here – can you can come back shortly.”

He mops his way over to the conference door, opens it, “Eh?”

“We do have to keep this area as clean as possible. The equipment you know. But we are having a conference here.”

“Clean? Yes. I clean.” He says, and then mumbles, “Beth ydych chi’n meddwl fy mod i’n ei wneud Saesnes?” [What do you think I’m doing Englishwoman?]

Rhyaad glares at the old man. ” Pwy? boots mwdlyd? Nid wyf yn Saesneg a dwi’n gwisgo sandalau.” [Who? Muddy boots? I am not English and I wear sandals.]

The old man starts to hobble away, but turns upon hearing his native tongue, “Ah! RYDYCH olrhain yr holl mwd i mewn yma? [YOU all tracking mud in here?]

He harrumphs and takes out his mop.

“In Collinsport you will find that Catronia has a nice little house by the sea. She is guarded as I said by one of our best agents,” Vanessa now opens a folder and takes out a small white business card and hands it over. It says Rhyaad de’Annar, Extraordinary Member, Diogenes Club, Pell Mall, London. On the back is a large ? “Show this to Agent Nine and she will give you any assistance you need.”

Rhyaad watches the old man suspiciously. “Wyddoch chi ddim beth sylw at y ffaith y gallai glywed glustiau. Ac nid oes mwd yma. A ydych yn wallgof?” [You never know what the pointed ears could hear. And there is no mud here. Are you crazy?]

He takes the card and looks very surprised and disregards the old man “Me? You want me to be an Extraordinary Member? I . . . . I am quite . . . honored.”

The old man looks at the dirty floors, then at Rhyaads ears, gives him the two fingered salute and goes right on mopping.

“But I must be totally honest with you Mr. de’Annar – I fear that the difficulties once thought to have been adverted from Collinsport – from Maine, perhaps even worse –may only be starting. Everything else might have been merely prelude. For the first time in a very long time – and I must say a very long time – we are uncertain what is actually being planned by the forces we combat.”

“I suppose Agent Nine guards Kaye.” he pocketed the card. “And I understand. If the necromancers can regroup, if you think old Narly has influenced Nicole even before she changed . . . it seems our problems have not even begun to be solved.”

“Precisely. And that is why I had to have this conversation with you.”

“I see. But you do know that I tend to trust or at least want to protect Nikki. This will be very difficult for me.”

“If you need anything, contact Praetorius and he has access to the portals here at the Club. If he is his usual self, show him that card.”

“Even though I trust the man only as far as . . . you could throw him?”

“As I said, I know this is a distasteful thing I am asking you to do – in more ways than one – but I have to have someone there on the ground with your – talents. Someone I can trust.”

“Then I shall be flattered that you trust me. Trust is not an easy thing.”

“And rare if at all from me.”

“Then we understand each other.” he gave a slight bow of the head.

“Now, I have an immediate request.”

“Yes?”

“Arrest that cleaning man. Now.”

The guard eyes the cleaning man.

The old Welshman just keeps mopping.

Vanessa Coats looks at him – then suddenly to the armed guard, “Detain that man.”

She looks back at Rhyaad, “Why?”

The guard moves forward, grabbing his shoulder with one hand as the other quickly whips out cuffs.

“Beth? Beth yw hwn? Rhyddhau mi fenyw! [What? What is this? Release me woman!]

“I suspect he is either a spy, or deranged. Either way his presence disturbs me.”

The guard locks the cuffs around his wrists.

“How so –?” Vanessa Coats asks.

“Distawrwydd!” he yelled in at the old man. [Silence]

Rotwang looks disturbed – concerned that his equipment may be compromised, “You see, ve have their agents even here Frau Chariman. Bedenken les Hommes Mysterieux!”

“Duw Damn Sais. Bob amser yn chwilio am gyfle i atal y Gymraeg. [Godd**n Englishman. Always looking for an opportunity to stop the Welsh.]

“He keeps on muttering about Englishmen and tracking mud on the floor. There is no mud here. Shouldn’t be. And how many Welsh janitors just happen to need to clean imaginary mud during a secret conference?”

“Sbïo! SBïO!”

“Petofi vill stop at nothing – baah, I have said before this vhole pretense of insanity of his vas ausflucht.”

The security guard presses the Welshman him to the wall and frisks him.

“Pam eich bod ychydig anghyfreithlon. Os oeddech yn blentyn i mi roeddwn yn cymryd y gwregys i chi!” [Why you little b***h. If you were my child I would took the belt to you!]

“I am English? Are you a spy.” He says to the old man.

“Duw gorachod chyfrgolla. Maent yn waeth na’r Saesneg.” [Godd**n elves. They are worse than the English.]

“Then I should warn you Mr, de’Annar to be watchful for a gentleman known as Aristide. He is the Count’s closest confidante – a gypsy.”

“Byddwn yn torri i chi yn ei hanner”[We will cut you in half], he added. “Sut y meiddiwch sarhau fy mhobl!”[How dare you insult my people]

“He disappeared in Berlin four days ago and we have not been able to locate him.” Vanessa Coats says, trying to not be distracted by the arrest of the cleaning man.

“A gypsy, you say? That’s interesting.”

“Yes – he has been with the Count for some time – we – I was suspicious earlier when the Count was heading to America – and was leaving him behind.”

“Well it just gets thicker and thicker. Perhaps the Welsh spy is right: this room is very muddy. But do interrogate him anyway.”

“Aristide vas the key to this being yet another of his games. The Count goes no vhere vithout him.” Dr. Rotwang says as if confirming what he had told Coats at some early point in time.

“Twyleth Teg! Lleidr Plant!” [Fair Folk! Child thief], He turns to the guard. A ydych yn gweld clustiau y dyn hwn? Cymer fi i ffwrdd cyn iddo yn rhoi melltith ar mi. [Do you see this man’s ear? Take me away before it is put a curse on me.]

“The Count sought to replace Mr H.’ and become a God. I doubt he cared much for anybody at that point.”

“Dr. Rotwang – we need to get Mr. de’Annar to Collinsport quickly.”

“Ja— ” The German inventor nods, “”If you vill but step back to the Time Vortex, Herr de’Annar.”

He stared at the old man, and his eyes began to literally glow. “Oes! Dweud y gwir, neu byddaf yn rhoi hecs ar chi!”[Yes! Telling the truth, or I will put hex on you!]

Rotwang steps out and looks at the cleaning man, gives him a harsh look.

The old man points at Rhyaad, “ Take Away Fair Folk. Take Away!”

Rotwang walks over to the robotic woman, “Ah, Maria, ve vill be resetting the device.”

Rhyaad waved his hands dramatically; small sparks beginning to fly from them. “Hoffech chi fod yn llyffant? Efallai y neidr?”[Would you like to be a frog? Perhaps the snake?]

Gwnewch eich gwaethaf! [Do your worst!]

Rhyaad pointed menacingly at the man. “Dywedwch wrthynt y gwir, neu byddaf yn gwneud hud ofnadwy i chi!” [Tell them the truth, or I will make a terrible magic for you!]

Rydych chi fy ngalw yn gelwyddog. Ddim yn wir. Galwaf chi llwfrgi, Twyleth Teg. [You call me a liar. Not true. I call you coward, Fair Folk.]

Rhyaad rolled his eyes. “Digon o ddadl fel plant. A oes gan eich bod yn gwybod.” [Plenty of debate as children. Do you know.]

“Bring up the power.” Dr. Rotwang says, adjusting his console, “Ve are ready Chairman Coats.”

“Now we must get you to Collinsport.” She rises and walks back into the Time Vortex chamber.

Rhyaad stood and slowly followed, allowing a final word to the old man. “Peidiwch â phoeni. Fy brathiad yn waeth na fy rhisgl. Ac yr wyf yn parchu eich pobl, hyd yn oed os nad ydych yn parchu mi. Ffarwel.”[Do not worry. My bite is worse than my bark. And I respect your people, even if you do not respect me. Farewell.]

“So, Herr de’Annar vhen do you vish to arrive?” The doctor asks.

“Hrm”. . . he ponders the question. . .

Vanessa Coats leans forward to the observation glass, “Do not muck about Rotwang, this device is more Wren’s design than yours.”

“Ve buit it together, it vill vork fine.” he says softly, then yells out, “Vhen do you vish to arrive?”

“How about two days after the ‘bookcase incident’, at 10 pm, in the Nightingale.”

Dr. Rotwang’s fingers begin to deftly work upon the console; he turns to the robotic woman and smiles, “Activate sequence now.”

The Portal begins to swirl with a rainbow of hues.

“Good luck Mr. de’Annar.” Vanessa Coats says as he steps up on the platform.

“Diolla lle. And this thing better work.” He said, then stepped into the portal, “This better work . . . ” he thinks vanishing.

In a void of darkness he finds himself lost.

There isn’t any body only consciousness.

Then light.

Bright white light.

And he finds himself standing before the fireplace in the Nightingale.

The clock says 10:00.

“Phew! Praise Adonia!” He uttered aloud. “Now . . . where do I begin with this mess?”

In the time vortex chamber of the Diogenes Club, Dr. Rotwang looks through the observation glass at Vanessa Coats, “He is going to need the luck. You have set a loose bullet into a crowd, Frau Chairman. Using the truth to deception, you are much too much like Catriona Kaye in that regard.”

“He will shake things up, something will fall out.” Vanessa Coats says and turns to the guard, “Take those bloody things off.”

The guard removes the handcuffs.

The cleaning man rubs his wrists, “He suspects nothing?”

She looks at the cleaning man, “Now, someone tell me about these muddy boot prints.”

Cue Music End of Episode