Chapter One
‘With half the city in his pocket, he could’ve found a better way to die,’ said Inspector Irvin as he leant over the corpse that lay sprawled on the floor in a wan patch of light.
‘And, I bet, a better time.’
This voice belonged to a tall, lean figure that stood alone by the window, looking out at the incessant rain. His black glossy mac seemed a rather expensive choice for getting around in such weather. The inspector’s outfit, though, was simple: a flat cap and pea-coat — both of a dark colour. He was a sturdy man who looked more like a bouncer than a senior investigator. Leaning in even further, Irvin cocked his head to the side to get a better look at the corpse’s neck.
Long Ben struck six, and its chimes echoed against the bare stone walls of the hall in which the two men stood. The room was vast, scarce in light and sparse in decoration. Its lancet windows and straight columns stood like numb guardians of a long bygone age. The city of Londrum, a megalopolis of thirty million people which stretched on for miles, was completely hidden behind a veil of pouring rain. Even its gigantic ever-gleaming skyscrapers, which were slowly but surely devouring the old city, were now invisible.
The dead man, who rested calmly, face up, on the mosaic floor in the centre of the hall, didn’t mind the cop’s gaze. With his limbs outstretched, he resembled a copy of the Vitruvian Man in the flesh, except he wasn’t completely naked.
‘His position . . .’ Irvin tilted his head to the other side, ‘It doesn’t seem to be very natural. Any ideas, Detective?’
‘Sure,’ said the figure by the window. ‘Looks like old Leonardo’s work.’
‘Who’s that?’ asked Irvin sharply as he straightened his back.
‘An Italian.’ The figure shrugged.
‘Ah, Italians.’ Irvin grunted knowingly. ‘Nasty guys they used to be. Have you got anything on him?’
‘Not much,’ the figure spoke in a dry voice. ‘A freelancer . . . kind of genius. Worked for some bigwigs on the continent. Politics, military and stuff. Wasn’t bad at drawing.’ Irvin listened to this report very carefully, with a tight mouth and narrowed eyes. ‘Died quietly in his bed with the King of France beside him . . . seven hundred years ago,’ the voice added innocently.
Irvin glared at the figure for a moment, then threw his head back and uttered a strong, short laugh.
‘Damn it, Thaler!’ he roared. ‘You got me there! Yes, the fella who drew that—’
‘That humble brow-less lady with a silly smile on her face.’ The figure by the window turned his head, revealing a Roman profile and thick tousled hair. ‘Personally, I wouldn’t ask her out. Besides, some experts say it’s his self-portrait.’
‘Oh, is it?’ wondered Irvin aloud as he looked back at the corpse. ‘But, anyway, why did they place this man like this?’
‘Another derisive message to mankind,’ Thaler sneered.
‘What message exactly?’ asked Irvin with a touch of impatience.
‘It’s all about priorities, you know,’ Thaler responded calmly. ‘In such a position, the human body has two central points: its stomach, if a circle is drawn around it, and its genitalia, if it’s fitted into a square. A perfect, well-devised microcosm that revolves around sex and food, with a small peripheral protrusion called the head, which incorporates a modest amount of brains and, allegedly, a soul.’
‘You like speaking in riddles, Thaler; I can never tell whether you’re cursing or just trying to play the clever one,’ Irvin said amiably.
‘It’s easy to tell, Irvin; I never curse.’
They fell silent and listened to the steady rustling outside for a while.
‘The rain,’ said Thaler. ‘It never stops. It’s turned this city into Venice, but there’s no end in sight for it. We’ve stopped using carbon fuel and gas emissions have dropped almost to zero, but it doesn’t seem to do any good. At times, the scientists are even more useless than the police. Don’t you think, Inspector?’
‘Bollocks,’ growled Irvin. He stretched his back and nodded at the corpse. ‘I recognise this guy. Did you know him?’
‘Not personally.’ Thaler shook his head. ‘Just heard of him like everyone else. I never rub shoulders with those stuck-up toffs who call themselves “high society.” This particular piece of rubbish was one of them. An opportunistic monster in the guise of a decent man.’
‘Well, then. Who gave you the address?’ asked Irvin, drifting slowly between the columns and gazing around.
‘I got an anonymous call,’ Thaler answered vaguely.
‘Nice one.’ Irvin stopped near a wrought-iron candlestick that held a thick, half-melted candle. ‘You feed moles with fat worms, not the other way round, don’t you?’
‘Honestly, Inspector, you personally don’t resemble a worm,’ said Thaler, still watching the rain. ‘But some of your colleagues really do.’
‘All right then. Seems like a ritual murder,’ said Irvin enthusiastically, as if he’d already solved the case. ‘So, before I call in the team . . . how do you think he died?’
‘She strangled him,’ answered Thaler curtly.
‘She?’ Irvin snorted. ‘You know, in his case, you might be right. There are dozens of women in this city who’d love to see him dead. You found a pig in a pigsty! Bravo!’ He produced a few mocking claps.
‘My pleasure.’ Thaler bowed slightly and turned back to the window.
‘But there’s something that doesn’t fit your theory.’ Irvin adjusted his cap.
‘What exactly?’
‘You’re right: He died of strangulation. I’ve checked the body,’ said Irvin. ‘But the knot was tightened under the Adam’s apple.’
‘So?’
‘It means,’ Irvin continued, ‘that the rope was pulled downwards along his chest. That’s more typical of auto-asphyxiation,’ he concluded.
‘Or a kind of adult game in which this man could seek assistance,’ responded Thaler.
‘Anything is possible.’ Irvin grimaced in disgust. ‘I don’t like this man or the kind of death he met here.’
‘Wrong, Inspector,’ Thaler said. ‘It happened on the other side of the city.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Irvin chuckled. ‘I should’ve known! And after that, like a zombie lured by the heat of our brains, he marched all the way across the city!’ he responded with contrived laughter. ‘I haven’t got as vivid an imagination as you, my dear colleague.’
‘No imagination at all,’ Thaler replied calmly. ‘Just some extra information a good little robin told me. But, anyway, we’ve got something much more exciting than the stiffened body of some wealthy tosser. Look at that.’ Thaler nodded towards the corner. ‘There, we’ve got some wood, and here we have a nice place to set a fire,’ he pointed at the huge fireplace. ‘Soon, you’ll see what a favour one single match can do for all humanity. I don’t smoke, but I hope you’ve got one. And, by the way, thank you for calling me “colleague.”’
‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ Irvin replied good-heartedly. ‘Thank you for inviting me to sit by the hearth tonight.’
They were old friends, the two men, and they knew their jobs inside out. But any daily routine can become poisonous. So, just to liven things up, they would play the ‘stupid cop, clever detective’ game, trying to outdo each other with any number of clichés. At that point, it was a tie.
Chapter Two
Inspector Irvin took a few measured steps across the hall and peered into the darkest, farthest corner of the room. Then he swore, snapped a cigarette from his pack, picked it out with his teeth, lit it and took a long drag.
‘The black box,’ the inspector murmured. ‘Just like the one we fished out of the sewer a week ago. It must be somewhere in the back of our office.’
‘I really doubt it’s still there,’ replied Thaler. ‘It’s the very same box right here. There’s only one in the city and in the entire universe.’
The inspector looked at the box again, this time with a kind of awe. ‘What’s it for?’ he asked.
‘I’ll tell you later, Inspector,’ answered Thaler evasively. Irvin frowned in response. ‘You’re my colleague, Thaler,’ continued Irvin after a pause. ‘Plus, you’re the only lad out there I can always trust.’ Irvin took another puff. ‘But, to be honest, I don’t understand your methods. They work at times. That’s the only thing I know.’ He stared at the glowing tip of the cigarette. ‘You can see through walls and read other people’s thoughts. I’d love to be able to do such things myself.’ The inspector chuckled. ‘But you know, we are different people after all. I just don’t believe in all your mumbo-jumbo supernatural stuff.’
Irvin held the cigarette in front of his face, stared at it and spoke. ‘I grew up on the outskirts of this rotten city. My version of life was too painful for me to believe in otherworldly fluff. There was too much violence around for me to be a mystic. Most of my then friends have ended up in jail. Or,’ Irvin grinned, ‘in the cemetery. You might ask me, Inspector, how I became a cop. Elementary, my dear Watson.’
He took a puff.
‘They were hard times when I was a youth. I’d just finished school. I had to support my unemployed parents and look after my three younger brothers. I made money taking part in backstreet boxing matches. Good times they were! Our modern pop-and-crisps politicians did their best but dragged us all into hyperinflation and blackouts. Then, they left. The old-style crooks came back and had to restore order. They pushed up taxes and introduced harsher penalties. People were, let’s say, a bit discontent with these changes. The confrontations grew. More cops, more dogs, more riot vehicles. That’s how I ended up at the Police Academy.’
Irvin watched the dying cigarette carefully.
‘I’d always dreamt of becoming an educated man. A lawyer. A scientist. Maybe a doctor. However, I was neither intelligent enough nor rich enough for that. So, then we made a deal. They wanted me to be their goon to protect them from everything — from home-bred Marxists to petty burglars. In return, they gave me a chance — a modest, middle-class seat on their gravy train.’
He shook a loose column of cigarette ash into the cupped palm of his hand.
‘I was a diligent student. But two-thirds of what we studied at the academy was useless. When I first went on the beat, I just listened to the old-timers. And you know what? When the tracks really, really stank, they always led right to carved doors and lavish parlours. I was never able to nab them. They knew how to cover their dirty deeds.’
Irvin carefully wrapped the cigarette butt in a piece of paper and stuffed it into his pocket.
‘Crime is incurable,’ he grumbled. ‘That’s why I feel completely useless sometimes. Whatever I do, it’s still there at every turn. I’m not one of those fancy cops who hunt down web killers or arrest the first exhibitionist on the moon. Headlines! Headlines! Damn it, no. I’m just an old breed of policeman who relies on his mind, courage and, sometimes, his gun.’
He finished. There was no ovation.
‘Well, enough snivelling. Let’s get down to business.’ Irvin rubbed his hands. ‘So, you think they brought this bastard here in that box? Or they wanted to put him into it? But damn it, Thaler, who and why? Do you—?’ He turned to the detective and fell silent.
In the darkness of the hall, Thaler stood absolutely still like a wax figure, his unblinking eyes gazing straight through the window.
With his left hand, Irvin quickly raised his collar and pulled the cap over his eyes; simultaneously, his right hand slipped into his armpit holster. He stooped a little and looked around quickly. He knew that he could be the next target for a blowgun spike with paralysing venom in it. However, he saw no signs of danger.
With his finger locked on the pistol’s trigger, Irvin inched slowly towards the detective.
‘Thaler?’ he called. ‘What’s going on, old man?’
There was no reaction. Irvin continued to edge towards him.
‘Detective!’ he cried even more loudly. ‘Do you hear me?’
Like a spring-powered mannequin, Thaler turned his head towards the inspector. His body was still rigid, and his face looked like a wooden mask.
‘They are coming,’ he said in a strange, gravelly voice. ‘They are coming,’ he repeated.
‘There you go again, Thaler, with your silly tricks!’ snapped Irvin. ‘What the heck are you talking about? I’m a bloody cop, you know, not a silly youngster!’
Thaler shook himself out and rubbed his shoulders, trying to quickly get rid of his previous stiffness. He looked ashamed.
‘Put your gun away, my friend,’ he said tiredly as he pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘I’ve underestimated them. Rain . . . it doesn’t only wash away tracks; it also erases the borders between the worlds. It gives them extra speed.’
A sky-wide flash of lightning sparked behind the windows and an immediate blast of thunder shook the building. Thaler looked around the room as if he were seeing it for the first time. His gaze stopped on the entrance. ‘There’s no way out,’ he said. ‘We’ve got to hide right here. Right now.’
‘Listen,’ growled Irvin, ‘I need a bit of an explanation . . . some basic facts I can piece together in my copper’s head . . . just an idea of what’s going on here. Who the hell are “they,” and where are “they” going?’
‘I’ll tell you later,’ Thaler said bleakly. ‘But right now, we’ve got to hide. And, please, don’t swear anymore.’
‘Wait a second.’ Irvin held up his hand. ‘I’ll call—’ He pulled out his copperphone — a rugged smartphone, but the screen was dead. He swore again.
‘I’ve got an idea!’ exclaimed Thaler with unexpected strength.
‘Hey, how many of them are there?’ Irvin shouted. ‘You’ve got an idea, but I’ve got a barrel and enough bullets for three dozen madmen!’
‘Your bullets are useless now,’ Thaler whispered. ‘Unless they’re made of silver.’
‘Who are they?’ roared Irvin.
‘Demons . . . all of them.’ Thaler grinned.
‘Oh, no.’ Irvin shook his head bemusedly. ‘I want my hooligans back.’ He scanned the room quickly. ‘There’s no place to hide, by the way.’
‘There’s a nook over there.’ Thaler pointed at the corner where the black box rested. ‘Please, listen to me carefully, and do exactly what I say. Otherwise, we’ll both die in the bloodiest way your copper’s head could ever imagine.’
‘Sounds comforting,’ Irvin noted.
‘First,’ Thaler started, ‘we are gonna hide our arses in that black box. Yes, just shut up and listen. If we’re in it, they can’t harm us. But,’ Thaler raised his finger, ‘if you poke your nose out, they’ll tear us into little pieces.’
Irvin twisted his lips sceptically.
‘Second,’ Thaler continued, ‘don’t talk to them! They’ll try to lure you out by speaking in different voices. Just don’t open your mouth, or we’ll end up like two calves in a cow grinder!’
Irvin winced and folded his arms across his chest.
‘Third. Who would you sacrifice your life for without thinking twice?’
‘My eldest daughter,’ Irvin replied quickly. ‘She’s my everything.’
‘Oh,’ said Thaler, ’you haven’t told me that before. Where is she now?’
‘Over the pond, in New Amsterdam,’ answered Irvin. ‘I haven’t seen her since—’
‘So, listen to me,’ Thaler interrupted him. ‘You have to talk to her in your heart. Ask her for help. Tell her: “My dear . . .”’ He paused and gazed at Irvin.
‘Ashley,’ murmured Irvin. ‘Her name’s Ashley.’
‘“My dear Ashley,”’ Thaler continued his improvised plea, ‘“please help me. I’m in danger.” Repeat it again and again until all this mess is over. Got it?’
‘Ashley, I’m in trouble. Please help me,’ Irvin repeated like a schoolboy.
‘Very well then.’ Thaler turned Irvin round and pushed him energetically towards the box. ‘Here you are, Inspector.’
It was a long, coffin-shaped box, overlaid with a thick gold-and-lilac brocade fabric, that lay on a low rack. The drapery exuded the scent of incense, but when Thaler lifted the hinged lid, a putrid stench hit the two men.
Irvin flinched and nearly puked on the floor. ‘No way,’ he spluttered, gasping for air.
‘You have to,’ said Thaler, trying to grab the inspector and push him into the box. But this was a tricky manoeuvre to use against a one-time street fighter. Making no discernible effort, Irvin freed himself from the detective’s arms and pushed him away.
‘Irvin!’ shouted Thaler as the two men circled each other. ‘Please, listen to me! We have to hide right now!’
‘No, you listen!’ Irvin shouted back. ‘I won’t go in there. I’ve seen enough rotten corpses in my life. I know that smell!’
‘But—’ Thaler almost cried.
‘Full stop,’ Irvin said whilst making a cutting motion with his hand. ‘Whoever they are, I’ll meet them here! They’ll bite my bullets!’
A terrible crushing sound came from downstairs, as if a giant wrecking ball had been swung through the front door. It shook the whole building, and a strange rumbling flooded the old mansion as though dozens of heavy-hoofed creatures had come hooting and howling their way up the stairs.
Irvin glanced at Thaler and then at the entrance. The Inspector looked terrified.
‘Get in before it’s too late!’ Thaler shouted again. He clutched Irvin with both hands and pushed him into the box.
A gust of cold air burst into the room, and the musty smell of a cellar flooded the hall.
Thaler then clambered into the box; his boots were in Irvin’s face, and his head was right up against the inspector’s feet.
He managed to slam the lid shut barely a second before the horde of behemoths stampeded into the room.
Chapter Three
The two men shifted about, trying to somehow make themselves less uncomfortable in the tight space. The smell inside was unbearable. ‘Breathe through your mouth, not your nose,’ said Thaler in a strangled voice.
The multitude of unknown creatures continued to stream into the room like a herd of puffing buffaloes. The floor shook from the pounding of their heavy hooves. Suddenly, it ceased. Nothing was to be heard aside from the creatures’ ominous breathing. Then, one single pair of hooves began to clack its way unhurriedly towards the box.
Soon, Irvin and Thaler heard deep snorting that sounded like a giant hound sniffing its prey. The creature walked around the box, taking slow, heavy steps as it thoroughly inspected its every corner. And then dead silence reigned in the room.
‘My fine fellows.’ The voice outside was unexpectedly clear, somewhat sarcastic and utterly human. ‘I came here tonight with the intention of carrying out the routine procedure of initiating one more respectable citizen of this likewise respectable city into our league when . . .’ Muffled giggles rippled across the room. ‘When I suddenly discovered,’ the voice paused, and absolute silence returned, ‘an unexpected gift. A trophy. Butter upon bacon, if you will, awaiting me in this room. Of course, you know what I refer to: these two gentlemen hiding from us here in this box, with a most wicked disposition.’
A rumble of laughter echoed across the hall.
‘The Goddess of Fortune has never been quite so generous to us as at this very moment. For quite some time, I have been dreaming of meeting these two particular gentlemen under such intimate circumstances.’
A burst of wild laughter shook the room.
‘Lord Wittslock?’ asked Irvin in a whisper.
‘Yes, it’s him,’ Thaler hissed. ‘But shut up. I told you.’
‘Dear gentlemen,’ the crystal-clear voice apparently addressed the box, ‘I hope you’ll agree that your current position is obviously uncomfortable and, I dare say, ridiculous. You are kindly invited to leave your rather vulnerable shelter and share our company.’
Irvin started to fidget, but Thaler calmed him down with a swift jab to the stomach.
‘Don’t move,’ Thaler muttered through his teeth.
The inspector grumbled and slid his hand between his belly and the detective.
‘Gentlemen,’ Lord Wittslock’s voice announced, ‘if you continue to ignore us, we’ll have no choice but to evict you from this tiny box, which is, as you know, our property. But, my friends and I are willing to offer you the chance to vacate of your own accord with, if such is your preference, some kind of dignity.’
‘Thaler,’ Irvin started to shiver, ‘I’m gonna shit myself.’
‘Don’t move. And think about your daughter,’ hissed Thaler.
There was a strained silence in the room.
‘Very well then,’ Lord Wittslock uttered with a tinge of disappointment. ‘It looks like these oafs know a thing or two about our customs. My dear friends, let’s afford them our finest hospitality!’
At once, the creatures began to gallop around the box. They cried, growled, roared, whistled and hooted as they rushed and danced around Thaler and Irvin’s shelter. The sounds of their ferocious voices and stomping hooves blended into one wild, cacophonous rhythm.
As Irvin started to fidget again, Thaler dealt him another punch to the stomach. In response, Irvin hit Thaler in the groin with a quick but efficient movement. Thaler gritted his teeth in pain.
‘Marvin . . .’ a seductive female voice leaked through the sounds of the raging pandemonium. ‘Can you hear me, Marvin?’
Irvin cocked his head. Then, he shifted himself like a caterpillar and pressed his ear against the rotten boards of the box. The voice fell silent. He heard nothing but the sounds of wild bacchanalia.
‘Who . . . who’s calling me?’ asked Irvin in a quivering voice. ‘How do you know my nickname?’
There was no answer — just the sounds of the rabid party outside.
‘Who’s calling me?’ shouted the inspector.
‘Shut up, you idiot,’ Thaler growled and got another punch to the groin.
‘Marvin . . . is it you?’ the enchanting voice returned.
‘Who are you, damn it?’ Irvin growled.
‘Don’t . . . swear,’ Thaler moaned.
‘The woman of your dreams, Marvin,’ the voice cooed. ‘You wanted me so badly and now you don’t even remember me?’ She laughed softly. ‘But, I remember you,’ she continued with a whisper. ‘A young, newly fledged policeman, stiff and proud of himself, taking evidence and eyeing me up at the same time in the hall at Mannheim.’
‘Lady Angsgott?’ whispered Irvin.
‘Yes, Marvin, it’s me,’ the voice purred. ‘And it was me,’ it continued, ‘who killed my old hubby. I have no regrets on this matter; he deserved it. Would you like to arrest me right now? Or . . .’ she laughed gracefully, ‘we could find a better way to spend the night.’
Irvin moaned and clutched his head.
‘You know,’ the voice persisted, ‘I’m fed up with all these little wimps. I need you — a decent, strong man. I want you from deep in my loins. Come out and join us.’ Irvin’s body was shaking feverishly. ‘We’re gonna make love all night . . . taste pleasures you’ve never dreamed of . . . be mighty and free.’
‘Don’t leave the box,’ Thaler pleaded. ‘Think about your daughter . . . It’s all lies. They’re all monsters, cruel monsters. You’ll never see your child again.’
Irvin took a deep breath, turned on his back, placed his hands against the lid of the box and sighed bitterly.
‘Forgive me, Thaler,’ Irvin said, fighting back tears. ‘Forgive me, my friend. I’ve been wrong all my life. And I have to fix it . . . right now. I can’t stay here any longer.’
‘Stay inside, you idiot,’ growled Thaler.
‘Marvin, I’m waiting for you,’ the female voice continued impatiently. ‘Come on, darling. Come to me.’
‘I’m coming,’ whispered Irvin, ‘just to get rid of my misery.’
Suddenly, the wild discord outside stopped. Deep silence befell the scene, and the only sound the two men could hear was their own strained breathing.
‘Lady Angsgott! I’m coming!’ Irvin cried.
‘You arsehole!’ shouted Thaler.
Irvin sobbed, took a deep breath and . . . his telephone rang.
It broke the silence like a silver bell welcoming the dawn and dismissing all evil spells. It rang on and on. The message that this simple sound brought to the scene was clear — somebody at the far end of the line was trying to get through. The inspector removed his hands from the lid and began to fumble in his pocket.
‘Marvin? Where are you, Marvin?’ The voice outside was audible once again. But now, it was harsh and impatient. Irvin paid no attention to it. The voice continued to call to him, but with every passing second, it became more and more distorted. It was like an old vinyl record that was slowing down, giving it a terrifying intonation. ‘Marvin, you son of . . . a . . . bitch.’
But Irvin didn’t care. He managed to reach his phone, and he answered the call.
‘Yes,’ said the inspector. ‘It’s me, my dear.’
The silence around the box thickened.
‘Yes, it’s me,’ repeated Irvin, trying to speak with a brave voice. ‘I’m okay, my love. I’m absolutely fine. I just ran into my old friend, Thaler. He’s a solid fella, dear. You’d love him. So much stress at work . . . so, naturally, we went to the pub. Yes, it’s a bit noisy here. That’s probably why I missed your calls. Yes, yes, I’m okay. Yes, I promise — just a pint or two. We’re leaving soon, dear. I miss you so much. Don’t worry. Take care now. Love you, too.’
Irvin hung up and, seen by nobody, broke into the happiest smile of his life.
At that very moment, the silence outside exploded as though thousands of bats, screaming and screeching, had suddenly taken flight and squeezed themselves out of the room through a tiny window. Then, the hall plunged into dead silence.
Soon, the two men heard a distant scuffling sound. They knew what it was. Thaler pushed the lid off, and it fell to the floor with a terrible crash. He started to chuckle. Irvin blew out his cheeks and started to chuckle, too. Fresh cool night air was pouring into the room through the broken windows.
The scuffling sound grew nearer.
No words could have been more welcome than the short, snappy command they heard: ‘Police! You’re surrounded! Drop your weapons ’n come out one by one!’
© 1995–2025 Alexander Daretsky. All rights reserved.