[Alexander,Jack, Quentin]
Scene Started: Wed, 16 August
2000
Dateline: 5.30pm, Friday, December 25th, 1998
[ PC ]
Once everyone was washed and dressed, including Alan reminding Marcus that both he and Alex had already been in the bathroom earlier, and Marcus commenting of the sloppy job he must have done, they headed out to the restuarant that Quentin had seen. They were escorted by two of Hudson's men, one who had been in the hall earlier and another who had been in the hotel foyer.
Sunlight was still streaming in over the roof tops and lighting the upper floors of the surrounding buildings, but the streets themselves were already in shadow. The tip of the sculpture, pointing up at an angle into the sky, a single jagged spike of metal bathed in a red glow of the sun as it slowly climbed into the air. Quentin noticed more gang members wearing similar outfits to the three he had seen earlier. Some were chatting over their bikes while others were heading to or from the bar opposite.
Quentin led the way east and then down a broad street to the north and quickly pointed out the restaurant he had seen. 'Matachelli' claimed the hoarding over the door and window. There was indeed a clown cut out standing in the street, a chalk board nailed neatly in place, the figure's hands seemingly holding it in place. Around the edges of the chalk board someone had carefully drawn snowflakes and christmas trees and a couple of brightly wrapped presents. Pasta dishes and sea food were listed, linguini, pasta, cod and turbet. A couple of black painted cast iron tables were arranged on the pavement outside, but one table was already occupied, so they headed inside.
An atmospheric, cozy, gloom hung around the secluded tables, the room picked out by oil lanterns hanging from the tinsel adorned rafters overhead. It made the floor hard to see. A waiter politely introduced himself as Hassan and showed them to a table, menu's appeared from nowhere under his arm.
It was a small restaurant, only seating thirty people comfortably around the six tables. More if you included the alfresco tables out front. The walls were decorated with sprigs of vine, earthen-wear jugs on shelves, small framed photographs of hilly countryside. There was another party seated around another table, an older couple and a younger couple, although they looked enough alike to be brother and sister.
The two 'bodyguards' sat at a separate table and eat lightly, soup and the linguini. They sat nearer the door than the Jameson's and kept and eye on both them and the street.
The food wasn't perfect but was well above what Marcus and Alex had gotten used to eating. It couldn't really be faulted by any but the most annoying of food critics.
[Alexander,Jack,Quentin]
Scene Started: Wed, 16 August 2000
Dateline: 5.55pm, Friday, December 25th,
1998
[ PC ]
The gloom of winter evening had settled over the island by the time they had fininshed their light meal. Returning to the hotel, they waited patiently. There was no new news from Tanberg about their sister, Andrea's mother. Neither had Hudson returned. There was a note from Castleman, however.
Please be informed that a car will arrive to collect you at your hotel at 7pm this evening. I look forward to meeting you.
The note was in a heave card stock, hand written in a cursive script, almost artistic. Hand delivered. On the reverse of the card was printed an emblem. Three rings interlinked with a strand of ribbon looping through the center of all three.
[ CT ]
The card seemed a fair bit of work on short notice. Jack stuck it inside his jacket. He checked his watch, adjusted now to the local time.
[ PC ]
It was already 6pm, not much time to get ready. Hopefully they wouldn't be eating as soon as they arrived. Although they hadn't eaten much, it would still be too soon to dive into a full blown meal.
Marcus kept Alan and Andrea amused in the other suite while the other three brothers tried to find clothes to fit the occasion. Jack wasn't a problem, his luggage always contained a spare suite for special occasions. His everyday suit would be a near enough fit for either Alex or Quentin.
[ CC ]
"That's fine," Quentin said. "I've got some decent clothes that should prove suitable."
At a quarter-to-7, Quentin was ready. He'd dressed himself in a tight-fitting pair of fine black denim slacks, woven with elastic that allowed him superior freedom of movement, a snug cream-colored T-shirt, and a camel-colored suit jacket. He had well-polished black leather shoes and belt, the latter studded with bright silver conches. He sported a black felt fedora, with the brim low on his face. The very portrait of a rakish, but stylish, gangster (or so he hoped).
He'd placed his notebook and pen in the interior pocket of the jacket; he wanted to keep careful notes of whatever information this Castleman fellow might present them. Also, he expected to glean yet more show ideas to mull over.
His show mask was in the other jacket pocket.
[ CT ]
Jack stopped in the bedroom doorway, "That?s a ... an interesting look. 1940?s German? Is that felt?" He couldn?t hold back his smirk.
[ CC ]
Quentin was unmoved. "So you have something against style?" he replied airily.
[ CT ]
Jack smiled broadly. "Quentin. Style ... you got it, brother."
[ MT ]
"With the fedora and note pad, I thought he was aiming for 'mild mannered reporter'." Alex then decided his own attempt at a joke wasn't terribly funny, and went back to putting on other people's clothing.
[ PC ]
A minute before 7 the room phone rang. It was the receptionist. "Your car is here for you, whenever you are ready, Mr Jameson."
Accompanied by the same two men as earlier the three brothers headed outside and into the shiney limousine parked outside. The chaufuer closed the door after them and moved round to the drivers door. He looked in his mid-twenties, possibly he worked out, but not much if he did. The sort of physique that could be maintained by either exercise or a lucky metabolism. His dark curly hair was neat and tidy, topped by his hat. He had a slightly dark cast to his skin.
The limo pulled out onto the main road and headed east. Eventually it turned of this main road and took some minor roads before eventually arriving at a large building set back from the main street.
[ CC ]
Quentin felt areadier and steadier this time. He kept careful notes of the route the limo took, with a small map to flesh out details.
[ PC ]
The buildings surrounding it were large and ornate, and a few had signs on the lawn outside bearing their company logos or campus title. The property they entered now had no such board, although the car park at the side of the building looked about half full.
The map Quentin drew was a long straight line with a couple of crooked twists on the end. A few short lines like flights on a childs drawing of an arrow represented street entrances they passed but didn't enter. Easy enough to read directions of, third right, second left, round the right turning bend in the road and fourth building on the left.
A voice came over the intercom from the driver's cabin, "Mr Castleman has asked to meet you here before moving to his residence. He wants to give you a short tour of our facility."
Both of Hudson's men glanced at each other and one raised an eyebrow.
[ CC ]
"What does this gentleman do for a living?" Quentin enquired.
[ CT ]
Jack leaned over, "Hudson said he worked in the Faskil Organization like dad. Some other project, though. It looks like he wants to show us."
[ PC ]
As the limo came to a stop at the end of a paved walkway leading to the building two figures left the building and started walking the ten meters or so to the car. One, a tall thin man in his late thirties or early forties with short dark hair surrounding his mostly bald pate, wore a old grey suit under his lab coat. He had a pained look on his face, his eyes casting disapproval about with every glance. The other was an Oriental woman of roughly similar age, her hair tail back into a bushy queue. She was wearing a lab coat as well over a dress-suit, much better quality than her companion's.
Jack climbed from the limo, followed quickly be the first of the bodyguards.
The woman burst open a big smile under the bright flourescant lights illumination the scene. "Welcome, Mr Jameson, and Mr Jameson," she directed this last greeting to the bodyguard who didn't respond.
"It is an honour to meet the progeny of the Admiral," she continued once the limo had emptied and begun to pull away to a parking space. "We have heard so little about you."
The man's dark face had creased his eyes even closer together as each of the brother's stepped from the car. Now he seemed positively unhappy, "If you'll excuse me Dr Siu, I'm needed inside." And with that he turned and strode back to the building and nearly broke into a run once through the big glass doors.
Even Dr Siu looked surprised at the man's abrupt departure, and a little annoyed but she buried that quickly, "I'm sorry about that, Professor Hamilton is one of our best researchers, and can be ... a little highly strung shall we say."
"Mr Castleman has asked us, me now, to give you a quick tour of our labs here and to meet him in his own lab before heading to his residence for the evening. If you would like to follow me, and I'll try and answer any of your questions."
[ CC ]
Quentin quickly moved to Jack's side as they headed toward the lab. He whispered near his ear, "Did I hear that right? One of these hired muscle is a relative?"
[ CT ]
Jack turned suddenly. "What?" he said loudly. The blank look on his face begged Quentin to repeat himself.
[ PC ]
The bodyguards and Dr Siu glanced briefly in Jack's direction, the Dr seeing that the question was directed at Quentin started to turn away.
[ CC ]
Quentin hissed quietly, "When you got out of the car, she welcomed 'Mr. Jameson and Mr. Jameson'. The second one wasn't addressed to any of us -- it was aimed at one of the muscle." He scratched his ear absently. "I have the bad feeling we're going to learn a lot more about Dad than we ever suspected....or cared to suspect."
[ CT ]
"Relax, Quentin," Jack said aloud, and he smiled. "It's a common enough name. Probably a coincidence."
[ PC ]
Dr Siu led the way back to the building. The doors where where there would normally have been large ornate wooded slabs, but here had been replaced by huge, modern looking, sheets of glass. The effect was like a mirrored pool denying prying eyes as easily as the mighty wooden door would have done.
As they approched the doors a shadow moved behind one and it swung open to allow them entry. Nobody was there, a large open space with a minimalist decor against the slightly patterned cream wallpaper. An open staircase againts the far wall reached from the right up to th e left. The steps also appeared to be made of glass blocks a couple of inches thick. Below the stairs was a collection of greenery, mostly broadleafs, some stretching to the stairs overhead.
On either side of the stairs dark glass doors lead to either side. The glass partitions stretched all the fifteen feet to the roof.
To the left was a black reception desk, to edge coming up to about chest height on the brothers. Behind it sat a woman, dark skinned with long jet black hair with as light hint of blue streaks. She looked young, no more than her early twenties. She smiled at Dr Siu's party as they entered. Opposite the reception desk was a cluster of neatly positioned soft black chairs and couches. Luxurious and spotless. Above the chairs there hung an abstract painting, two groups of figures facing each other with stylized angry expressions, the left hand group hand tall red square blocks for heads and opposite them equally tall blue pyramidals for heads. Almost lost amongst the anger, hidden at the bottom were two small figures with a few tears each, there eyes level and holding each other's hand.
[ CC ]
"Fascinating," thought Quentin. He sought to discern the title and artist from where he stood.
[ PC ]
Looking closer at the painting Quentin noticed that none of the angry figures had eyes, only bared teeth. One figure on the left, a red rectangular figure held their hand aloft, fore and pinky finger extending straight from what would otherwise have been a fist. Neither of the two figures at the bottom, looking into each other's singular eye, had a mouth. And there was no signature anywhere to be seen.
"We'll start with the Library," said Siu starting up the stairs. There was a feint hollow 'pong' sound with each foot fall on the stairs.
[ CC ]
Good start, Quentin thought. He liked libraries.
[ PC ]
Climbing to the second floor, the stairs lead to a narrow rectangular hall that led through dark glass doors to left and right. In front of Dr Siu was a large wooden door, a rich red tinted wood. Carved into the surface was a fine pattern of plants, leaves and flowers. All intertwined in a mass of foliage around a pair of closed human eyes.
"Just through here." Holding open the glass door to the right, Dr Siu led the way down the corridor. Away from the brightness of the foyer and the landing the corridor was much darker, a sort of dusk. The lighting came from up-lighters lighting only patches of the wall near the ceiling, but not the ceiling itself. That was a curved arch like shadow about four feet above their heads.
Dr Siu passed two plain wooden doors, one on either side of the two meter wide corridor, before opening a door on their right. It looked the same as the others. A small steel plaque, etched with the simple legend 'Library' in dark blue.
Inside was a spacious room. The books looked like old traditionally bound books, on meter wide shelves, only a few modern books were scattered here and there. There were shelves devoted to other items. Bones, plants, and a few other items. In the centre of the room were three plain tables, a light beach wood surface, with two chairs each.
"This is where the results of our reseach here is archived. Personal journals, log books, and the odd research items. This is probably a unique resource in the whole world into this field of study."
[ CC ]
"Um, forgive my ignorance," Quentin said apologetically, "but just what does this research involve? What is this field of study?" His eyes roamed hungrily over the many volumes present. He tried to catch snatches of titles and authors as he swept his eyes over everything.
[ PC ]
The spines were narrow and plain but for a sequential gold leaf number following two letters.
A wicked, knowing smile crossed the doctor's lips. "Some might call us 'Seekers of True Knowledge'. Our research is in what you might call Practicing Theory. I have a demonstration for you which should ... 'raise' ... some interesting concerns."
[ CC ]
Quentin rolled his eyes visibly, trying to convey "an answer that is No Answer" as clearly in his body language as possible. "Fine," he growsed. "If you don't want to tell me, I can wait until the demonstration."
[ PC ]
Dr Siu pointed round the room at the the shelves. "These shelves here contain Mr Castleman's own personal journals." The books she had indicated contained about three and a half shelves of large red, leather bound books, each about an inch thick. The top shelf of journals were a deep dark red, like clotted blood. As the journals progressed they grew more vibrant in color. They bore the letters 'TC' on their spines with their numbers.
"And over here we have your father's journals." This time Dr. Siu pointed to a set of shelves opposite.
[ CC ]
Quentin grew visibly excited. Answers, perhaps!
[ PC ]
The journals here filled only a little over two shelves. On the third shelf, encased in a solid block of clear perspex, six inches to a side, were two peices of metal held at an angle. They looked like they should have formed a single peice, but the jagged edges nearest each other belied a violent seperation.
[ CC ]
Quentin almost gasped, but tried mightily to control his reaction. Could that be the source for the metal strip from Dad's study?
[ CT ]
Jack crossed toward his father's collection. His eyes were fixed on the block of perspex, and he dared to hope that the metal in the case was a match for the one he left wrapped in plastic in his bag at the hotel Bienvenidos.
[ PC ]
The dimensions were an almost exact match. The surface of these peices didn't swim like the other however.
[ CC ]
Quentin approached the shelves that held Dad's journals. He reached out toward one at random, and turned to Dr. Siu. "May I?" he asked.
[ PC ]
Dr Siu tilted her head for a moment considering Quentin and his brothers before nodding slightly.
[ CC ]
"Thank you," Quentin said, inclining his head in deference. "There's so much I never knew about Dad, and certainly nothing of his work."
[ MT ]
Alex followed him over to the shelf. "What is this in the block? Does it have to do with Dad's work?" He contemplated, but refrained from randomly opening one of the journals and searching for an explanation of what Dad did there.
[ PC ]
"Indirectly. It actually has more to do with Mr Castleman's research than your father's. I believe there is a story behind that piece, but you would have to ask Mr Castleman himself."
Tilting one of the journals from the shelf Quentin read the numberd spine, 'SJ234'. The book felt light in his hands despite it's size. The leather felt smooth and worn, a small diagonal scratch touched the front cover of the book, not quite cutting through to the meat of the binding. Placing the journal onto the table he lifted the cover and opened to the front page.
A simple title in their father's handwriting: 'March 12, 1987 - January 5, 1988'.
Turning to the body of the journal, Quentin found carefully handwritten passages or description. A glance suggested long hand descriptions of what had been happening on each day. A diary of sorts. The page Quentin had turned to was for April 30, 1987:
"Continued analysing Henderson's secreation sample. Overnight the pale grey liquid has dried in storage. We now have a viscous jelly of approximately half the original volume. Naturally we will have to revise some of the tests as they were for a liquid. We may be able to obtain another fresh sample tomorrow, Henderson is meeting with Nasbuam and may be able to slip away briefly."
Dr Siu reach up to a shelf behind her and lifted down a wooden box, about 6 inches long by 4 wide by 3 deep. It was a dark wood, deeply carved, the patterns gouged into the surface. She placed the box onto the same table and lifted the lid.
[ CT ]
Jack had turned back from his father's shelf and drew closer toward Dr. Siu and her wooden box.
[ PC ]
"Good Evening, Gropher. I have some friends to see you." Dr Siu had been talking to the box. Reaching into it she picked something up and lifted it into view.
The brothers could what appeared to be a stone carving of a dragon. The style art suggested Viking or another Norse culture. The lines around the creature's limbs were edged in white against the blue-black stone. The eyes plain black rock seemed to glint in the light as if regarding them.
[ MT ]
Alex looked up from examining the block with the metal bits inside. "What is that? Some of the stuff around here seems rather odd for a scientific institution."
[ CC ]
Quentin chuckled in half-derision, until...
[ PC ]
A sleepy voice stirred in their minds, of long ages past, awakening slowley. The sense of rock sliding against rock, back and forth like a slow breath sat just above their ears. The voice when it spoke was at one with this rock-breath, right there, in their ears. Like listening to a voice in a personal stereo, only clear and crisp and pin sharp right between their ears.
"Hmmm? I know you. Do I? Or someone like you? Or someone of you? Long ago. Long, long ago." The voice seemed male, or masculine, and old, but not weak. Simply tired.
[ CC ]
Quentin bolted upright from the chair, looking about wildly. "All right," he croaked. "What the hell is this?"
[ CT ]
Jack glanced toward the ceiling. His first instinct told him the voice was a hoax. Despite what he saw at home in D.C. -- family was one thing, anyway. It wasn't his nature to accept a stranger's word at face value, certainly not someone playing an angle. And Dr. Siu and Castleman had an angle to play. Directional speakers behind the walls maybe. Then again, maybe not.
Jack raised a finger, "Yes, what was that?"
[ MT ]
Alex looked around the room for another person or hidden speakers, but didn't really expect to find any. He seemed to know that wasn't the case, but forced himself to doubt anyway.
[ PC ]
Looking into the corners of the roof for speakers didn't reveal any, but over in one corner there was a small, unobtrusive camera.
Dr Siu held the rock figurine in her left hand and slowly stroked what would have been the dragon's back. "Gropher is an old being, old even when man rose up to it's current standing several thousand years ago."
[ CC ]
Quentin had calmed a bit -- perhaps he'd overreacted -- but this business around him got weirder and weirder. "Old being? Are you telling me that that rock is supposed to be some millennia-old being that you keep in a box and trot out to impress newcomers?"
[ PC ]
"I'm sorry Mr Jameson. I didn't mean to offend you. You are rare honoured guests. The Admiral was very highly regarded here, that is why I am you are here, why I am showing you this. Excuse me," Dr Siu appologized as she pulled herself back from continuing to answer Quentin's question.
[ CC ]
Quentin scratched at the back of his neck, wondering how that voice could affect him so. "That's all very X-Files and the very stuff of myth'n'legend, don't you think?" Still, Quentin's wary look and skittery eyes belied his doubtful words.
[ PC ]
"Gropher went to a talented carver in a village just outside what is now Oslo, and made a deal to be tied to this figure. Now Gropher can sleep until the end of time. Death is unknown to his kind."
"That is a suggestion, I would think, to one of the aims of our research here. The ability to free the spirit of it's mortal bounds."
[ MT ]
Alex frowned, troubled by her statement. "Hmmm... I'm not certain I like that. Death is a necessary part of life, and the cycle of death and rebirth is the way to enlightenment..." he mumbled to himself.
[ CT ]
Jack raised his eyebrows and leaned a little toward Dr. Siu. He began to remark, "Can you--" but stopped short as...
[ PC ]
Dr Siu was interupted by a click as the door to the Library entered and a young man entered. Early twenties with short spiky black hair and a lab coat that looked too long and baggy on his thin frame. He walked past the everyone in the room without looking up at anyone, heading towards Dr Siu.
He whispered something into her ear and stepped back to wait.
"It would seem plans have changed slightly. Your tour is going to have to continue at another time. Mr Castleman has asked you to join him as he is about to return home. If you could follow Stevenson here he will take you to him." With that Dr Siu began to carefully place Gropher back into his box.
[ CT ]
Jack shoved his hands into his pockets and stood straight. He glanced at Quentin and shrugged, "free the spirit...". Jack sauntered toward Stevenson, paused just for a moment at the metal strip in perspex, and followed him.
[ CC ]
Quentin closed the diary he'd been perusing and replaced it regretfully back on its shelf. He placed his hand against the row of volumes as if to somehow absorb their knowledge through his skin, or perhaps as a token of respect. Not even he himself knew.
Turning, he joined his brothers.
[ PC ]
Stevenson shuffled past the brothers and their bodyguards and mumbled, "If you could just come this way." Out in the corridor he turned back to the left and headed back the way they had just come.
His Doc Martin boots clumped loudly on the glass stairs as he led the way back down into the reception. As they reached the bottom of the stairs they saw a tall figure quickly duck through one of the huge glass doors behind the stairs and disappeared into the darkness beyond. It could have been Professor Hamilton from outside, but the glass door swung shut into place with a rubbery ripping sound as the seal fit into place.
The same receptionist was sat behind her desk, there eyes following them as they passed.
Outside the limo from earlier was parked at the end of the paved pathway, the lights along either side spilling half circles of light into the slabs. As they approached the rear passenger door gave a pop and swung open as they approached. "Enter. I am sorry. To have. Cut. Your. Tour. Short." Came a voice. Jack recognized Castleman immediately.
[ MT ]
Alex looked over at Jack, to confirm by jack's reaction that this was Castleman.
[ CT ]
"Henry Castleman," Jack peered into the limousine, "it's our pleasure." He smiled graciously.
[ PC ]
Inside the limousine sat an elderly man, dressed in a deep black cotton suit, with a crisp white shirt and no tie. He was alone in the center of the rear seat. He lifted his right hand from the walking stick he had had both hands resting upon, and waved towards the empty bench opposite.
Despite his age, he looked healthy, and in his late fifties. He had a gentle smile on his face, with a hint of curiosity. He had thick grey hair brushed back from his receding hairline. A ruddy complexion, possibly with some scar tissue along his lower jaw and throat, something from long ago. Sharp, observant light grey eyes watched as the brothers and their guards climbed into the car.
[ CT ]
Jack stepped into the limo, across to the far side, and sat next to their host. He leaned into corner to face the entire compartment.
[ MT ]
Alex climbed into the car, and seated himself on the bench opposite Castleman, so that he could face him and watch him more.
[ PC ]
The bodyguards took the seats opposite Jack and next to Castleman.
[ PC ]
The look of curiosity slipped from his face and seemed to be replaced by a sort of satisfaction, as he looked each of the brothers up and down. He barely glanced at either of the two bodyguards.
[ CT ]
Jack spoke to Castleman, "I'd like to thank you for your invitation. I can't tell you how interested I am to hear about the work you've done. Dr. Siu was kind enough for provide a short demonstration."
[ PC ]
Stevenson closed the door from the curbside and the limo pulled away and out of the parking lot.
[Alexander,Jack,Quentin]
Scene Started: Fri, 1 December 2000
Dateline: 7.35pm, Friday, December 25th,
1998
[ MT ]
Alex interrupted his studying of Castleman's face as the car pulled away. "So, where are we going now?"
[ PC ]
Castleman looked round at the brothers, Quentin, Alex and Jack, beside him. He seemed pleased. He parted his lips slightly and, "It. Is. A most. Gratify. Ing. To. See that. You are. All. Well."
His lips hadn't moved, other than to close again shortly after he started speaking. But the look of contentration in his face punctuated each short utterance. The sound had come from his direction, all three brothers could attest to that. The bodyguard opposite Jack raised an eyebrow, but otherwise seemed unconcerned, the other shifted slightly on his seet, his arms now freer to move.
Castleman glance fleetingly at the man on his left, noticing him for the first time, then looked away.
"I'm sorry. I. Didn't mean. To. Startle you. An old. Wound. From. Before. Any of. You were. Born. I have. Had to. Learn. How to. Speak. Anew."
[ CC ]
Quentin eyed Mr Castleman's throat narrowly. Speech synthesizer, perhaps? The scar had him wondering.
[ PC ]
This wasn't like Gropher. They could definetely hear Castleman's speech with their ears.
Quentin couldn't see anything other than the aged scar tissue. Smooth like melted wax.
From his position, Jack could just make out a slight glow coming from the top of Castleman's walking stick. An ornate jewel was set in the gold on the handle under Castleman's left hand, his right laying relaxed upon his knee.
"We are. Heading. To. My home. Please. Tell me. What was. Dr Siu. Able to. Show you. Before. I. Interrupted."
[ MT ]
"We were shown some sort of statute that..." Alex wasn't certain what to say. "It did something. I heard a voice." He looked at his brothers for help explaining, then at Castleman to see if he seemed to recognize what they spoke of.
[ CT ]
"Dr. Siu called it Gropher," Jack explained, "a dragon like figure. Viking style?" Jack glanced to his brothers and shrugged.
[ MT ]
Alex nodded slightly, in a manner that said "That's my guess, but I'm not really sure".
[ CT ]
He turned back to Castleman, "It spoke to us..." tapped his temple lightly, "...in the head."
[ PC ]
Castleman looked across at Alex sitting opposite him and round to Jack and smiled. "Yes. Gropher. An. Interesting. Specimen. One that. Begs. Questions. Don't you. Agree."
[ CC ]
Quentin spoke for the first time. "Absolutely. But you call it a 'specimen'. You mean to tell me that it *is* ... some sort of millennia-old whoozywhazzit out of X-Files?" He shook his head. "I find that difficult to both comprehend and believe."
[ CT ]
Jack leaned back. "Dr. Siu mentioned something about freeing spirits from mortal bounds. That's your work, isn't it? To tell you the truth, I'm don't buy into a lot of that. At least, I didn't used to. Not until this Christmas. Tell me, Henry, does it ever work the other way?"
[ PC ]
Castleman's smile grew, "I am. Not. Here. To. Convince. You of. What. Is. You will. Believe. What you. Want to. The Other. Way." Castleman thought for a moment then, "We have. Some. Reseach. In. Trapping. Spirits. But. It is. A. Difficult. Dangerous. Thing. Why do. You. Ask."
[ CC ]
Quentin looked at Jack expectantly.
[ MT ]
Alex waited for the answer with visible interest.
[ CT ]
A wry smirk crept across Jack's face as he realized all the eyes turned toward him. He tossed it off and continued in his informal way, "Well, Henry, let's suppose you had a couple of willing spirits. Let's suppose it was me, for example. Let's say I let myself go one day and needed help getting back into my skin." Jack pulled his hand toward his chest in demonstration. "How would you go about doing that? Or would that be something our father knew more about?"
[ PC ]
"A Riddle." Castleman nodded. "I. Don't see. Why not. With the. Correct. Preparation. It could. Be. Achieved. Why. Would you. Want to."
[ CT ]
Jack looked Castleman straight in the eye and said, "Dad needs some help, Henry. I'm taking a chance that you're someone who can help him. Are you?"
[ PC ]
"I. Can. Try. Go. On."
[ CT ]
Jack sat a bit forward on his knees, "Let's talk brass tacks. I saw an artifact in your library that I've seen before. It's a metal strip so long," Jack held his hands apart. "The one in your library was broken. The one I saw wasn't. And as long as we're being candid, the one I saw swirls with color. Kind of like light coming off an oil slick."
[ PC ]
The look of surprise on Castleman's face melted into a smile. "A. Spirit Plate. My. Research. Specializes. In. Using. And. Developing. Them. They are. My. Invention."
Castleman reached into his left, inside jacket pocket and pulled out a long flat leather case. The case was just the right size to contain a 'Spirit Plate' as Castleman called it. "This is. My own. Plate." He slipped a flap open and slid out an inch or so of the plate, showing it to Jack.
"I think. You had. Better. Tell me. What. Happened."
Jack felt a light pressure on his foot. The bodyguard sitting opposite had gently stood on his toes. As Jack glanced in his direction, he could see the serious expression on his face as he subtly turned his head right then left.
[ CT ]
Jack faced Castleman again with an easy turn meant to betray nothing of what he had seen in the bodyguard. "I wish I could." He shook his head and shrugged, "but I really don't know what happened. There was this ... spirit plate ... on the desk in my father's office, which I'd never seen before, and he was missing." A pause for a moment, then he kind of trailed off, "That's all we ... really know." Jack nodded at the plate in Castleman's case; he was guarded ... uncertain, "What does it do?"
[ MT ]
Alex watched the entire conversation with surprise and curiosity. He hadn't expected Jack to open up quite so much to Castleman, but thought it likely wouldnt hurt. He sat back as far in his seat as he could, and watched Castleman's reactions closely to see if it was the right choice.
[ CC ]
Quentin's eyes had widened upon seeing Castleman's spirit plate. He'd been following Jack's lead thus far, but, noting his digression, he took pains to neither betray the digression nor to give Mr Castleman any indication that Quentin was anything but innocently curious about what was going on. Quentin unconsciously scrunched up into a more compact shape, bringing his arms in, keeping his hands in his lap.
[ PC ]
The guard sitting next to Castleman seemed to be staring at something out the front of the limo for a moment before he shook his head remembering where he was.
The metal strip, the Spirit Plate Castleman had called it, glinted as a street light swept through the window as the limousine sped along. The surface was a blue and red swirl, bright sharp colors, more vibrant that they remembered there father's Plate. With a flick of his wrist Castleman slipped th Plate back into it's sleeve and folded the flap back over it, then slipped it back into his jacket pocket.
"Your. Father. Was. Missing. He has. Been. In. Touch. The. Help. Your. Father. Needs. He has. Contacted. You. To. Help him." Castleman's monotone didn't help separate his sentences from one another. Alex noticed, that Castleman's speech continued uninterrupted by either swallowing or inhaling. And he never moved his lips, although he definitely concentrated on each little phrase, separately, forming each one distinctly.
[ CC ]
Quentin continued where Jack left off, deliberately ignoring Castleman's questing statements: "Dr. Siu had mentioned that this ... Gropher ... was linked to his, um, dragon rock. I take it that you are ... linked with this Spirit Plate? Are you thinking that it'll take *your* spirit" -- here, Quentin began making unfocused circling motions with his hands -- "essence, or what have you, and you'll be, um, unliving in that metal strip once you die?" He practically *exuded* innocence -- he was getting into his Performing frame of mind.
[ MT ]
Alex spoke up after Quentin. "What do you mean that Dad's been 'In Touch'? Did he contact you sometime recently ... after he died?" While saying the last part, Alex's voice wavered with uncertainty and emotion.
[ CT ]
Jack stared at Alex. Or rather, glared at him. To the best of his knowledge, up to that point, nobody had said anything about Dad being, well, dead. Fortunately, Castleman seemed not to notice Jack's glare since his attention was on Alex at the time.
[ PC ]
Castleman held Alex's gaze for a moment before speaking, "What. Makes. You. Think. He is. Dead. There was. No-body."
[ CC ]
Quentin reached over to Alex and gripped his knee. "It's OK, Alex," he said in soothing tones. "We understand." He tightened his grip ever-so-slightly, to be noticed by no one but Alex, then patted Alex's knee in sympathy and returned to his original posture.
"But you say Dad's been in touch?" Quentin directed toward Castleman. "When did this happen?" He hadn't forgotten that Castleman had ignored *his* questing statements, but he'd deal with that later. He took pains to make sure his face showed concern and worry.
[ CT ]
"Please, Henry," Jack appealed to the human sense of compassion, "if you know anything..."
[ PC ]
"You. Must. Excuse. My. Inability. To. Inflect. Properly. I was. Asking. You. If. He had. Been. In. Touch. With. You. I. Apologize. For the. Mistake."
[ MT ]
Alex looked puzzled for a moment. "I must have misunderstood. The mistake was mine." Alex leaned back in his seat, silently cursing his jump to a wrong conclusion.
[ CC ]
Quentin murmured, "Oh." A pause. "We were hoping..." He sighed. He leaned back in his seat, looking out the window, chewing on a thumbnail, hoping that his body language would help to cover Alex's inadvertent gaffe.
[ PC ]
"We are. Here." The limousine turned into a driveway, surrounded by high stone walls. Trees and bushes lined the inside of the wall, spilling over the ten foot hight to form a fringe of greenery covering the top of the wall. Ferns and evergreens were mixed in with ivy and bushes. No real color, but for the overpowering greenery.
[ CC ]
Quentin made a mental note to recreate as much of the route as he could remember in his notebook later, when no prying eyes were about.
[ PC ]
But he wasn't sure he had been able to count every entrance they had passed, the map might be of slightly.
[ PC ]
Castleman indicated the door on his left as it gave a pop and opened slightly by itself.
Stepping onto the pink sand washed gravel they could see the house. Small really, two stories, and only about fifty feet wide. The house was an old stone building, built from blocks of granite roughly two feet to a side. The front of the building was covered by a broad- leaved climbing ivy. There was no garage or way around the side of the building for a vehicle. There seemed a narrow gap of a few feet, but the entrances on either side were overgrown by dense bushes.
[ CC ]
Quentin admired the house, even as he sought out good climbing routes and small cubbies, perhaps usable for entrances or hiding places -- after that car ride, he'd discovered that he really Did Not Like this guy.
[ PC ]
The ivy, looked to be the only feature, other the the stone door frame and lintle, that could help Quentin climb. Although the garden wall was probably close enough to the side of the building. Quentin might make it up as far as the second floor windows without having to rely on the ivy.
Windows on either side if the large covered door, held the sight of a brightly decorated Christmas tree in the left bay window and simple dark drawn curtains to the right. Security lights on either corner cast stark double shadows as Castleman stepped towards his front door.
"Please. For a. While. May I. Invite. You to. Forget. Your. Present. Troubles. As my. Guests."
[ MT ]
Alex stayed to the back of the group, and tried to keep an eye on Castleman as they moved to the house.
[ CC ]
Quentin smiled and looked utterly gracious as he stepped forward to enter the house.
[ CT ]
Jack lagged behind Castleman and sidled up to the bodyguard who had warned him against talking. Jack faced him as they walked side by side. "So do you know something I don't?" he asked in his frank, matter-of-fact tone. And he glanced ahead at Castleman to give his question clarity. "Because from where I stand, you don't know much of anything." Jack spread his hands and coaxed the man, "Make it easier on me. C'mon, throw me a bone."
[ PC ]
The bodyguard was watching the upper windows of the building as he answered in a whisper, "Sorry, I don't."
[ CT ]
Jack flinched, "Sorry, what?" He leaned closer to hear.
[ PC ]
"It just didn't strike me as something you should be so open about. It's my job to be paranoid."
[ CT ]
Jack nodded and patted the man on the shoulder, "It's all right, buddy. Thanks for looking out for me." Jack continued ahead, taking in the house's decor.
[ PC ]
The dark wooden door swung open as Castleman approached. Beyond there was a warm red carpet, lightly patterned around the edges. Light colored walls with a feint hint of red. A pollished wooden stair case at the end of the hall went straight up away from the door before turning to the left.
Four doors led of from the hall, two on either side. Castleman indicated a coatrack in the hall next to a cabinet against the left hand wall, a mirror set in the back, a telephone and notepad carefully arrayed.
From one of the doors to the rear of the house, a young woman appeared. She was dressed in a cooks apron, with her long red hair tied in a bunch away from her face. Mid to late twenties, with a warm smile. "Five minutes, grandad." She looked around the crowd gathering in the hall and smiled, "Hello, Merry Christmas everyone," before ducking back through the left hand door again.
[ CC ]
Quentin gave a small wave and a "Hello".
[ CT ]
"Merry Christmas," Jack called back, but she was gone already.
[ PC ]
Castleman indicated the door opposite the coatstand and led the way through into a room with surprisingly modern furniture compared to the hall. Black leather suite, matt-glass topped coffee table, widescreen television, and a few speakers strategically placed around the room. A glass covered drinks cabinet, to the side and behind the TV.
"Please. Make. Yourself. Comfortable."
[ CC ]
"Thank you," Quentin said, and took a seat at one end of the sofa. He looked around. "Very impressive place you have here. It feels quite comfortable."
[ MT ]
Alex walked over to one of the chairs. "Attachment to material things is an obstacle to enlightenment," he mumbled to himself, just loud enough that someone nearby might hear him.
[ CT ]
Nearby, Jack strolled past Alex. Giving no sign of hearing him, he spoke for everyone to hear, "Say, that's nice leather!" Jack stroked it and nodded in appreciation. "Nice looking place. Clean. Do you use a service or do it in house?"
[ PC ]
Castleman settled into one of the single seaters, balancing his walking stick across his knees. He gave a little silent laugh at Jack's question. "You could. Say. That the. House. Cleans. Itself." It was obvious now, without his hand covering it, that the gold set jewel on the end of his walking stick was glowing, brighter then darker. With each of Castleman's little utterances, the gem glowed faintly then dimmed again, brightening again with the next phrase.
[ CT ]
"I'd love to see a demonstration some time," Jack said.
[ PC ]
"Now. Please. I am. At a. Disadvantage. I don't. Have. All. Your. Names. You are. Alex," he nodded at Alex.
[ CT ]
Jack swooped across the room with his hand held out, "I'm Jack. Jack Jameson." Castleman already knew the last name, but the whole thing came out quickly as a matter of habit.
[ PC ]
Castleman looked hesitantly at Jack's hand for a moment before shaking it. The grip was strong, although the pump up and down was weak.
[ CC ]
"Quentin," Quentin said, bowing his head and indicating himself with a tap on his chest. "You may have seen me in an (off-)Broadway production, perhaps?"
[ PC ]
"How. Do. You. Think. I could. Help. Your. Missing. Father."
[ CC ]
"Well," Quentin began, "we don't know much about the work that Dad, and I presume you as well, were working on, and we think it may impinge on how and why Dad is missing...."
[ CT ]
After the introductions, Jack had wound up near the liquor cabinet. "May I," he asked. He made himself comfortable with its contents and fixed himself a short Jack Daniels while he answered Castleman, "We have Dad's spirit plate, Henry. We need to know how to make it bring him back."
[ CC ]
Quentin's eyes widened. "Well, we're in neck-deep now," he thought. "I hope this'll be a walk in the park more than Mr Toad's Wild Ride." He sat up from his position on the couch, making it clear he was listening intently to every word.
[ PC ]
Nodding Castleman settled further back into his seat. "You are. Assuming. That your. Father. Is in. The. Spirit. Plate. That you. Found. If. He. Is. Then. We. Would. Also need. His. Body. Or. A. Body. But. Preferably. His. Own. Less. Danger."
[ CC ]
"Speaking of which," Quentin interrupted, "what sort of condition would these 'bodies' have to be in to accept spirits that you trap in these plates or statues or whathaveyou? Seems like it'd be a rough go if, say, a body were missing important parts before a transfer." He kept his tone deliberately light, but not *too* light -- he wanted the chance to shift to purely comical or purely serious, depending on how the conversation shifted. "I imagine Frankenstein's Monster would have had a harder time of it if it had been missing its brain or something."
[ CT ]
Glass of whiskey in his hand, Jack ambled over to their bodyguard, "Did Captain Tanberg bring our parents here, too? Can you see if you can find out? And if he didn't..." Jack nodded seriously at the man, "...tell him to get on it." He tossed back the rest of his drink.
[ PC ]
"Do. You. Have. The. Plate. With. You. So. That. I may. Examine. It."
[ CC ]
Quentin took this opportunity to get up. "Sounds like a drink *would* be in order. May I?" he asked, gesturing toward the liquor cabinet.
[ PC ]
Castleman nodded.
[ CT ]
Jack looked toward Castleman and lied, "I'm sorry, Henry, we left it in Washington. That may not have been smart on our part, but... things were a little hectic at the time. If we need to bring mom and dad back, we can probably get it then. Or do you think someone else might be looking for it?" At Castleman's reaction and response, Jack hoped to notice whether he was hiding something or whether his demeanor was sincere.
[ PC ]
Castleman's eyes followed Jack, listening to him as he spoke. "Unfortunate. A lot. Of. Effort. Could. Be. Avoided. If. Your. Fathers. Plate. Is. Empty."
[ MT ]
Alex realized he had been staring at Castleman for some time. "Effort in reviving him, or in ... something else?" he asked.
[ CT ]
Jack glanced at the floor, "I think Henry's saying that it'd be wasted effort bringing mom and dad's bodies back ... if the spirit plate's empty."
[ PC ]
"Precisely," nodded Castleman.
[ CT ]
Jack glanced up toward Castleman and shook his head, "But it's not. I know it. They're both there."
[ PC ]
Castleman simply nodded.
There was a light tap at the door before it opened to reveal Castleman's red-headed granddaughter. "That's dinner ready now."
"Excellent," said Castleman. "Shall. We." He rose to head to the door.
"Excuse me," spoke the bodyguard, who until now hadn't said a word, "Were is your bathroom."
"Of. Course. Jean."
Castleman's granddaughter beamed, "Sure, it's just up the stairs on your right. You can't miss it."
The man slipped past and his foot steps could be heard on the wooden stairs.
[ CC ]
Quentin sat up a bit, his head half-cocked in thought -- didn't Andrea make the same sort of announcement before that Mogul creature turned the world upside-down? He shook his head; no need to be so paranoid. He sighed as he stood up and brought his screwdriver to the table with him, ice tinkling merrily in the glass.
[ PC ]
Castleman waved everyone else to follow Jean as she led them through the hall and into the room opposite. This room was more in keeping with the style seen in the hall, warm reds and light colored walls. Victorian styling evedent in the furniture. Ornately carved wooden chairs surrounded a long dining table that filled the center of the room. Places were set around one end, a third of the table was left. A flower arrangement had evidently been moved from the centre to the unused end.
"Please," Jean indicated to the chairs. Moving to the chair at the head of the table she pulled it out for her grandfather and carefully slid it back in slightly for him.
[ CC ]
Quentin ran his hands over the carven wood of the chair arms. He examined the craftsmanship and texture of the wood and its shaping.
[ PC ]
They were high backed chairs of carved oak by the looks of it. The seat and back had more modern style padding, the arms were mearly little curved extensions of the seat that only came up about two inches above the seat itself.
[ CC ]
Quentin murmured appreciation for the craftwork put into the furniture.
[ PC ]
As the brothers sat, their bodygaurd stood stoicly just inside the door. "Please. Join. Us," invited Castlman, indicating to the two remaining empty seats. The man simply shook his head, "Sorry."
Once Jean had left though another door towards the rear of the house Castleman spoke again. "If you. Could. Each. Take. One of. These." Castleman had picked up three wallets identical to the one he had shown in the car to contain a Spirit Plate. He offered them to the brothers.
"For. Your. Own. Safety. Each. Needs. To be. Attuned. To your. Own. Unique. Aura."
[ CC ]
Quentin reached out and took the wallet offered to him. He opened it gently and carefully slid out the contents. Upon noting the plate within, he took out a handkerchief and slid the plate onto its linen to examine it more carefully.
[ MT ]
Alex took one wallet and examined the plate inside. "You want us to ... attune to these, in case we're injured or something?"
[ PC ]
"Yes." The plate looked very similar to the three they had already seen. The one in Alex's hands didn't bear the same swirlling, oil-slick effect that Castleman's or ... their father's ... had shown. Nor did it have any 'points' like the first plate now showed. A simple dark red color merged from one end to dark blue at the other.
[ MT ]
"How do we go about attuning to them?"
[ CT ]
Very slowly, Jack picked up one of the wallets. He held it lightly as he turned it over front to back like one of Quentin's dirty socks.
[ PC ]
"Simply. Hold. Either. End. In your. Hands. And I. Can. Start. The. Process. It should. Only. Take. A. Minute. But. You. Might. Feel. A little. Disoriented."
[ CC ]
"Wait a second," Quentin piped up. "Forgive my uneasiness, but I still can't get over that serpent statue from your workplace ... is this 'attunement' going to make me somehow like *that* thing Gropher? I don't like the idea of *me* somehow being stuck in a chunk of metal for eternity."
[ PC ]
"No," interrupted Castleman. "Gropher. Is not. The. Same. As. A. Spirit. Plate. They. Are. Similar. Gropher Did. Help. Lead. To. My. Develop. Ing. Them."
[ CC ]
"And what about this business about reattaching spirits to bodies? I'd really like an answer as to the condition a body's supposed to be in. After all," and here Quentin shifted from a serious earnestness to a more jovial tone, with a liquid ease, "I'd hate to get gutted only to find myself in the body of a 12-year-old girl, for instance."
[ PC ]
"Yes. A healthy. Body. Naturally. We. Do not. Want to. Become. A. Zom. Bi."
[ MT ]
Alex looked up from the plate. "I'm somewhat doubtful about the plate even if it works. The natural cycle of death and rebirth in a different body is part of the path to enlightenment, and this would seem to..." he paused, to find an appropriate word, "subvert that cycle." He glanced uncertainly from Castleman, to the plate, to his brothers.
[ PC ]
Castleman chuckles quietly as he speaks, "Subvert. No. Assist. Take. Control. Of. Destiny."
[ CT ]
Jack put the spirit plate back on the table. "I don't ask my customers to buy anything without seeing a demonstration first," he said. "If we bring our folks back with *their* spirit plate, then I'll think about it. Can you do that, Henry?"
[ PC ]
He wasn't chuckling anymore. "I am. Simply. Trying. To. Help. To. Protect. You. While. You. Are. Here. It. Is. A. Dangerous. Place. Why. Do. You. Have. These. Body. Gaurds."
"If. You. Feel. You. Cannot. Trust. Me. In. This. Why. Would. You. Then. Trust. Me. To. Help. Your. Father. I. Am. Sorry. But." At this point the door Jean had disappeared through opened as she returned with a silver tray bearing a large soup urn and six bowls stacked neatly. Castleman looked uncomfortable, not speaking, but smiling for his granddaughter.
Jean quickly served everone a bowl of vegetable soup, it smelled delicious, and left with the tray and the two spare bowls.
[ CC ]
Quentin dipped into the soup and savored the blend of spices and vegetable textures. He enjoyed its flavor, but felt somber at the turn of conversation, which detracted from the good food.
[ CT ]
"I'm sorry if I offended you," Jack said. "I'm just a little uncomfortable with these things. Probably because I don't understand them. Those guys," Jack nodded toward the bodyguard, "I understand what those guys are. And how they work. But, to answer your question about them in another way, we didn't ask for them. A friend insisted on it." Jack folded his hands in front of him. "And whether I trust you or not ... doesn't enter into it. You're the only one who knows anything about these darn things. As I see it, the floor's dirty all ready. Can't make it more dirty. I've got nothing to lose, and the world to gain. But, if you won't help our mother and father unless I attune to this plate ..." Jack tapped the wallet lightly, "... then I'll do it. If that's the payment, then I'll pay it." Jack started to stir his soup. "By the way Henry, you know how to get the client to trust you? Show them everything they ask for, anyway they ask for it. Then they know you've got nothing to hide about your product and it works exactly as advertised." He slurped down a spoonful and his eye lit up, "This is wonderful!"
[ CC ]
"I'm sorry, Mr Castleman," Quentin said. "For myself, it's been just one mystery piled on another, too many too quickly. It's like trying a new position" -- here Quentin bent his arm behind his back, then neck, then rested his chin in the palm of his contorted arm -- "without taking the time to work up to it, mastering the intermediate positions. As sure as eggs are eggs, something's bound to snap or pop."
[ MT ]
Alex tasted his soup and nodded in recognition of its quality. "It's not a matter of trust, Mr Castleman. I truly believe that these things will do everything you say they do, but I'm not certain I *want* to do what they let me do. I think I must turn with the wheel of karma, rather than try to stop its turning." He shrugged. "If you can bring my parents back, I would think the preservation of life a good thing, as their murder does seem incorrect, but my own life, or death rather, is another matter." He calmly returned to eating his soup.
[ CC ]
He sighed as he listened to the others offer their own thoughts, then he straightened as he came to a decision. "I've walked into the abyss before, and it scared the hell out of me, but I came back from it once. And if I can help Dad by walking into another one ... well, I owe him everything, so I'd be a thankless son if I didn't at least try." Uncurling, he loosened his collar.
"I'm ready whenever you're willing to start this process of yours. Now, or would after this excellent supper be more to your liking?"
[ PC ]
Castleman had sat quietly listening to each of the brothers as they spoke, even raising an eyebrow at Quentin's flexability. He took a few spoonfuls of soup as he listened.
"Please. Jack. Do not. Consider. This. A. Price. For. My. Help. That. Is. Freely. Given. I am. Offering. What. I. Consider. A. Great. Boon. I am. Sorry. If. You. And. Alex. Do not. Agree."
"May. I. Suggest. Quentin. After. We. Have. Eaten. As I. Said. It. Can. Be. Disorient. Ing."
"As to. Your. Parents. You. Must. Excuse. Me. My. Bluntness. But. May. I. Ask. What. The. Cause. Of. Death. Was."
[ CT ]
Jack told him, "We ... don't really know. We found him already dead."
[ CC ]
Quentin chimed in, "From the looks of things, his throat was crushed. How or by what, we don't know." The memory struck him fresh, the horrible feel of the sharp bone-edges, and his appetite left him completely. He took a gulp of his screwdriver, letting the burn of the vodka help strip back the curtain of sadness that threatened to smother him.
[ CT ]
"What we *did* see was our mother. Some of it, anyway. She's the one who used the spirit plate. She said some words ... strange words. And breathed ... something yellow. When she was finished, we saw ..." He looked up, not focused on the dining room. He was looking into the past when he said, "... there were lights. Yellow lights. Then a vision of mom. Maybe twenty-some years old. Her body was lying face down in the den, but we saw her floating there. She told us to find the maker." Jack focused on Castleman, "Find the maker. Only he can free us. Then she told us she loved us. Then she was gone."
[Alexander,Jack,Quentin]
Scene Started: Wed, 17 January
2001
Dateline: 8.00pm, Friday, December 25th, 1998
[ PC ]
Castleman seemed surprised when Jack mentioned finding the Maker, but let him finish before commenting. "I. Take. It. You. Think. She. Meant. The. Maker. Of the. Spirit. Plate. Which. Would. Lead. To. Me."
[ CT ]
Jack simply nodded.
[ MT ]
Alex started to nod in agreement, stopped and considered the question more thoroughly, out loud. "Well, I kinda hoped your were the Maker, as that would have made the search rather easy. But I don't really know what she meant."
[ CC ]
Quentin asked, "Can more than one spirit occupy a single plate?"
[ PC ]
Castleman paused before speaking, arranging his thoughts. "Not. That. I. Am. Aware. It. Is not. Something. I have. Tried. But. I. Cannot. See. It. Working."
[ CC ]
Quentin nodded distractedly, but frowned at the same time. "Huhn," he murmured, but said nothing more. His gaze drifted off to a point somewhere far off, as he pondered.
[ PC ]
"Please. Finish. Your. Food. Then. We. Can. Get. Started."
Jean appeared to clear the empty bowls and Quentin's half empty one.
A few minutes later she returned with a number of dishes which she set in the center of the table. Slices of turkey, mashed potatoes, brussel sprouts, steamed carrots, boiled potatoes and cabbage and a gravy boat.
"Okay, everyone. I hope you enjoy it." And with that she gave her grandfather a smile before dissappearing through the door into the kitchen.
[ CC ]
Quentin pushed at his plate apologetically. "I don't mean to be rude or anything, but I'm just not up to eating anymore right now. Please forgive me." He stood up from the table and sat back down at the couch, drink in hand, morose and distracted.
[ MT ]
Alex ate, but avoided the turkey politely.
[ PC ]
Alex, Jack and Mr Castleman finished there meal with the twinkling light from the Christmas tree trying desperately to add some seasonal cheer into the room. Jean returned from the kitchen to clear the plates away. Sensing that noone was really in the mood for desert she left them as they rose from the table. The bodyguard steped aside at the door to let them all pass, before turning to follow.
Back in the sitting room, Quentin was sitting absorbed in his grief. Numbed.
[ CT ]
Jack glided into room and remained on his feet next to Quentin. "I'll be right here," he boldly spoke to his brother and flashed a quick smile.
[ CC ]
Quentin didn't seem to notice. His eyes were downcast, lidded, and his face seemed even more ravaged than normal. Sometimes it's hard to tell, between the scars and the natural unbeauty God gave him.
[ MT ]
Alex chose to stand back a little, and to observe the upcoming event.
[ PC ]
Castleman followed Jack and Alex into the room carrying the Spirit Plates. "Quentin. Are. You. Ok. Are. You. Ready. To. Attune. To. Your. Plate." Castleman settled into his seat as he spoke to Quentin.
[ CC ]
Quentin jerked up, startled, then settled into a more relaxed pose. He did some minor stretching of hands, arms, and shoulders, trying to retrieve some social focus, then sat up, hands on thighs, in a ready position.
"I'm ready. Now what exactly do I need to do?"
[ PC ]
"First relax. Stress. Can affect. The attuning." Castleman waited Quentin composed himself.
[ CC ]
He felt a small twinge of fear -- after all, he was certain one of these plates brought this Mogul creature to wreak havoc with their lives -- but he damped it down. He closed his eyes and began breathing deeply, centering himself and thinking on his fondest memories of Dad and Mom. The *really* good ones, when Dad would play piggy-back and Mom would be laughing as she unpacked the over-full picnic baskets on those bright summer days ... Quentin felt the edge of sadness recede enough for him to get composed.
He opened his eyes, ready for the event.
[ PC ]
"Here is. Your plate," Castleman said leaning forward, one of the wallets in his hand. "Remove it. Now. Hold it. Between. Your palms. Gently." He demonstrated using one of the other wallets, holding the Plate with opposite ends resting in the center of his palms. The Plate was cupped in his hands as he might have held a baby.
[ CC ]
Quentin followed Castleman's instructions, all the while scrutinizing the plate, studying whatever imperfections or identifying features it had, memorizing this that was to be attuned to him, whatever that meant.
[ PC ]
"Ready." Only the singe raised eyebrow gave a hint that this was a question, not a statement.
[ CC ]
Quentin looked up, met Castleman's eyes, and nodded his head.
[ PC ]
Castleman closed his eyes and breathed out, a breath like dry paper. His eyes opened slowly and he spread his arms out to either side, his palms open. Leaning forward slightly he brought his hands forward and held them over Quentin's. Quentin could feel the Plate in his hands vibrating slightly. An almost imperceptable humming sensation right in the palm of his hands. The urge to scratch bubbled lightly at the back of his mind.
Time seemed to slow, his perceptions seemed to rise and sharpen. He looked up towards Alex, a frozen expression on his face, Quentin could almost see his own reflection in those eyes, standing near the door beside the bodygaurd. The bodyguard, stiff backed and rigid. His lips parted slightly his gaze fixed on some point far across the room. As he looked Quentin could almost swear he saw a yellow cloud swirl behind the man's eyes. Jack, reflection visible in the glass fronted drinks cabinet opposite, scowled down at Castleman. Again Quentin could almost see the reflection in Jack's eyes, the plate shimmered under Castleman's hands, the two colors starting to shift and mix like oil and water.
Quentin felt himself blink and he was sitting opposite Castleman, beaming at him. Castleman gingerly lifted the Plate from Quentin's palms, slipping it into a wallet, and the itching sensation in his palms vanished like a star at dawn. The hairs on the back of his hand felt alive with motion. The air in the room seemed almost visible, he could almost feel Alex's breath from across the room with his fingertips.
It had taken but a moment for all Jack and Alex could tell. Castleman had held his hands out, then over Quentin's. Quentin blinked and that was that.
[ CT ]
Jack waited for a sound from Quentin. Or any sign that the attuning was over and Quentin was all right.
[ CC ]
Quentin breathed deeply, then rubbed his hands together, intrigued by the sensation. He opened his eyes widely, then squinted, then opened them normally. "Well, *that* was an experience," he said. He blinked again and chuckled slightly. "Better than coffee for waking up, *that's* for sure." He looked at Castleman. "Should I be feeling anything in particular right now? Any sort of sensation to confirm that this attunement is still intact?"
[ MT ]
Alex slowly breathed in and out. "He looks the same to me. How can you tell if he's attuned or not?" He approached Quentin slightly and tried to look in his eyes. As an afterthought, he looked down at the Spirit Plate involved, in hopes it would give some clue.
[ PC ]
Castleman was holding Quentin's Spirit Plate in it's wallet, leaning back in his seat. The lines around his eyes seemed more sharper now, but perhaps that was just the way the shadows from the room's uplighters were falling. "There. Maybe. A little. Disorient. Ation. That is. Normal. And. Alex. To. Those. Of us. With. The. Sight. We. Can. Tell. By. Looking."
[ CC ]
"Disorientation is right," Quentin said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. For the benefit of his brothers, he continued, "Things seem *sharper*, somehow, more in focus. I kinda *like* that." He looked around the room, taking in the sight of everything once more, feeling out this sense of *focus* for as long as it would last.
[ PC ]
Gradually as Quentin's gaze fell across the room he could almost feel his vision blurring. The tiny dimpled texture of the leather suite became the sweeping whole he had seen earlier, Jack and Alex looked as they had, there eyes no longer mirrors on the world they saw. Still with a slightly vacant look in his eyes the bodyguard stood patiently by the door. And Castleman, almost exhausted looked back smiling. The lines around his eyes and mouth more pronounced than before. They weren't fading like the rest of the extra details Quentin had seen.
"Jack. Alex. My. Offer. Stands. For. You. Both. I. Would. Urge. You to. Reconsider."
"I am. Sorry. I cannot. Be. Of. More. Immedi. Ate. Assistance. With. The. Admiral. And. Mother. Bring. Me. The. Spirit. Plate. You. Found. And. I. Will. Do. My. Best. To. Help."
"An. Old man. I. Must. Rest. Now. Please. Accept. My. Invitation. To. Finish. Your. Tour. Of. Faskil. Before. You. Leave. The. Island. The. Driver. Is. Ready. For. To. Take. You. Back. To. Your. Hotel." Castleman stood and offered the Spirit Plate wallet to to Quentin. "Keep. This. Close. And. Safe. Return. It. To. Me. Should. Something. Happen."
[ CC ]
Quentin took the wallet from Castleman, but couldn't resist opening it and taking a peek at the now-attuned plate, noticing any differences, if any, from it's unattuned state, before closing it back up and slipping it into the inner breast pocket of his jacket.
[ PC ]
The blue and red had mixed well, fine lines of either color swirled around in little whorls. The surface of Jupiter came to mind, a fast forward film he remembered seeing on TV some years before. The metal was cold to the touch, but not icy, just a little below body temperature.
[ CC ]
"Thank you very much for your hospitality. I'm looking forward to the rest of the tour."
[ CT ]
As the brothers got up to leave, Jack crossed to Castleman and offered his hand, "Thank you, Henry. It's good to have a friend in new places."
With a look and a nod, Jack made his way to the front door with Quentin, Alex, and the bodyguard.
[ PC ]
Castleman struggles to his feet, resting his weight in his cane. This wasn't the same sprightly man who had led them through to dine earlier. He seem older somehow. He followed them to the front door where the limousine was ready waiting, the driver holding the rear door open for them.
"I'll. Forward. Details. To. You. At. The. Hotel. So. You. Can. Call. Me. Good. Evening." Caslteman watched as they climbed back into the limo before shuffling back inside.
The limousine seemed spacious now, and the brothers could stretch out. As the limo pulled out onto the road and started picking up speed as it whisked them back to their hotel, and Marcus and the kids.
[ MT ]
Once the limo had pulled away from the house, Alex looked over at Quentin and asked "I know what I saw happen, but what happened to you?"
[ CC ]
Quentin began a sequence of stretches, methodically moving through each limb, feeling out how this lingering change in perception affected his contortion work. "It was strange. Not uncomfortable, though, not like that other test Tanberg put us through. It was like a really mellow acid trip, except that, instead of hallu- cinating, you really *were* having some sort of transcendent moment. It was almost like I could see myself and the room through your eyes, if I focused enough on you. It wasn't like an out-of-bdy experience, I'd guess, but pretty close." He fell silent for a minute, then continued.
"I don't know how you two are handling this, but I'm caught like a fly in all this, mentally. I'm used to regular cause- and-effect, physical laws of the universe, life, death, the whole thing. And, suddenly, in the space of, what, one *day*?!, we've seen possession, disembodied spirits, beam-us-over-Scotty.... hell, next I expect to see Cthulhu blocking the street and picking off pedestrians with his tentacles. This is just too fucking whacked-out for words."
Quentin stopped talking then, and concentrated on his exercises.
[ CT ]
Jack looked out the window to watch the city roll by as he said, "I know, Quentin. We got a big mess in front of us. Just look at it." He turned back toward his brothers then, "But it's like mom always said, 'when you go camping, you leave the place looking better than when you found it.' I can't pretend I understand half of what we've been through, but all I can think of is to keep focused on the ball. That's mom, dad, Amanda ... and the rest of us. Clean up the big spills first. You can see it right in the open, and all it takes is the stright forward cleaning power of the basic unit. After that, we can get to know all the little specialized attachments and track down the dust and dirt smudges in all the cracks and crevices." He nodded, "You know what I mean."
[ PC ]
It was definitely night by the time the brothers returned to then hotel. During the drive Quentin had been stretching and twisting, feeling out how different his body felt. It was subtle at first. The sense that he could identify every muscle, ligament and tendon as they slid over each other and twist and turn with each movement. A slight relaxing of just the right muscle and the ligament slid over further allowing his shoulder to twist around and down his back and extra few centimeters. The smell of his brothers and the bodyguard had been noticable when they first entered the limo, but that faded. How much longer would this extra muscle control last.
Jack could see Quentin give the bodyguard to occasional guarded look as he twisted his arms around. Even Alex noticed that the guard seemed completely oblivious to Quentin's extreme movements.
The commissioner opened the door to the limo as it pulled up under the covered driveway outside the Beinvenidos. The bodyguard stirred as if awakening, and climbed out looking about, he seemed to have a puzzled look on his face.
The black limo slid silently away into the glittering night as the commissioner closed the door once they had all stepped out.
[ CT ]
Jack stepped up next to the bodyguard. He spoke casually, "You alright? Look a little tired."
[ PC ]
The bodyguard blinked, a confused look on his face, as he looked around at Jack and the others.
[ CT ]
When he got the man's attention he reminded him, "Remember, we need Captain Tanberg to bring in our folks. Samuel and Amanda Jameson. They're probably back in Washington, and I'd like him to get there before they end up on an autopsy table."
[Alexander,Jack,Quentin]
Scene Started: Tue, 6 February 2001
Dateline: 8.50pm, Friday, December 25th, 1998
[ PC ]
"Your folks? Em, right. I'll let Hudson know." The bodyguard looked at each of the brothers closely. "Are you ...?" He shook his head and looked up, more composed. What ever had been bothering him he had dismissed it. "Shall we go up to your rooms?"
Alex led the group into the foyer followed by the bodyguard. As they were passing through the revolving door Quentin tapped Jack on the elbow and handed him a folded slip of paper before darting past him into the door. Puzzled Jack unfolded the sheet before stuffing it in his pocket.
"Bodyguard <-> Mogul connection? Need to talk, but need to keep everyone else safe, too," it had read. Jack followed Quentin in the next compartment, there were just too many questions about every aspect of today.
As Alex left the door he looked around the foyer. Unlike earlier there was a small crowd of people about now. Men in dark suits, women in evening dresses. They were milling around the enterance to the restaurant, passing through in couples. Large tickets were being handed to a maitre de who glanced briefly at the names with a fixed but almost natural smile on his face.
The bodyguard accompanied the brothers up in the elevator. As they approached their rooms he muttered, "Dave?" before looking over his shoulder as if looking for someone.
The two guards on duty stood from their chairs as they arrived.
They found Marcus in the room Quentin and Andrea had used for their siesta. He had been watching MTV on the hotel TV with the sound turned low, some classic Christmas songs filling time. He was slumped on the couch snoring softly, Andrea and Alan curled on eitherside of him in their night clothes.
"Hudson went to meet Tanberg. He should be here in about a half hour," one of them informed their bodyguard.
"Have either of you seen Fielding since we left?" he asked them.
The two men just looked at him for a moment before the first replied, "No. He hasn't been here since you left."
[ CT ]
"Are you okay, buddy?" Jack asked the bodyguard. "Why don't you have a drink with us? You look like you could use it." He glanced back into the hotel room.
[ PC ]
The guard looked up at Jack then glanced around at Alex and Quentin, "I better not. I need to get your message to Hudson and Tanberg." He seemed obviously distracted and started turning to head back down the corridor. He stopped as just as he passed the other two guards who shared a puzzled glance. "Have Fielding report to me if he shows here." And with that he heads of down the corridor.
[ CT ]
"Hey," Jack said. He turned to the two guards and snapped his fingers, "What's his name?" When they reply, Jack called out again, "Hey, Kirk!"
Jack caught up to him. "You sure you're allright?"
[ PC ]
Kirk stopped at the corner as Jack cut him off. He looked startled. "Ah, yes?"
[ CT ]
He smiled to reassure him, "Castleman's got more than a few funny tricks, huh? Lemee get you a seltzer, just to clear the fog a little. C'mon, I can't let you go out like this, you're liable to run some poor schmuck over." Jack rested his hand on the bodyguard's shoulder and gently guided him back toward the room.
[ CC ]
Quentin stiffened as he noticed the contact. He scrutinized both Kirk and Jack for any obvious changes in personality, and he strained to use whatever heightened sense he still kept to help in the scrutiny.
[ PC ]
All Quentin could make out from the man's posture was his tiredness. Quentin could tell this from his own practice of watching people and studying how they moved. He recognized it, for he saw a lot of it back in NYC. But the confusion was different. He had seen similar in some arty hangers on at one of the few parties he had cared to attend. Drugs. He hadn't gone to many parties after that.
[ CC ]
He looked to see where Alex was, then made his way over.
[ MT ]
Alex had reentered the room after checking on Marcus and the kids. He sat down and began examining the newspaper again in closer detail, trying to get a feel for the island.
[ CC ]
Quentin walked over by Alex and looked at the paper, murmuring, "Be careful and watchful. This Mogul-creature, or something like it, may be riding our bodyguard here, and maybe Jack now. Say nothing, but *be* *aware*." He added as an afterthought, "And *don't* tell Marcus, or he'll just hit the roof. I'm unsure on this thing, OK?"
[ MT ]
When Quentin whispered to him, Alex nodded slightly, hopefully enough that Quentin would notice but no one would.
[ CC ]
Quentin also noted the locations of the other bodyguards, wondering if and how they all were armed. He was starting to get a headache. He looked toward Marcus and the children, feeling scared for them all.
Back in the hall...
[ PC ]
Kirk resisted Jacks urgings but did lean intoward's Jack, his eyebrows narrowing slightly. "Jack, What happened to Fielding? I think he left here with us but for some reason I can't remember anything much after that."
[ CT ]
Jack looked puzzled. "There WAS another guy wasn't there?" He thought for a moment, "Dave was in the limo when we got to Castleman's place. We must have forgotten him back there. Sorry, Kirk. I don't usually forget a teammate like that." Jack grinned, "Boy is he gonna be pissed. Better send the car back, huh?"
Off the bodyguard's look, Jack promised him, "It'll be all right, Kirk. Dave's a professional. Now, I gotta get inside." He nodded and headed up the hall to the room.
[ PC ]
Kirk didn't move when Jack tried to urge him back to their room, "How long were we in there for?"
[ CT ]
Jack made a guess, "It must have been more than an hour, but not much more. I remember Dave left the room pretty early on...before dinner."
[ PC ]
Kirk seemed to almost awaken, his eyes harden again. "I'm going back for him now. You stay here. I'll see Hudson about you parent's bodies before I go." He turns to walk away from Jack without another word.
[ CT ]
Jack walked up the hall and turned into the hotel room where Quentin and Alex waited at the couch. He smiled at the two bodyguards, "Scuse me fellas," and closed the door gently behind him.
Jack relaxed with his hands in his pockets and strolled toward his brothers. "It turns out we forgot a guy back at Castleman's place. Kirk's going back for him, now. How are you guys doing?"
[ CC ]
Quentin eyed Jack narrowly, looking for any ... *differences* ... in manner or tone.
[ CC ]
"I'm doing fine," Quentin said, "but you scared me with that bodyguard. The way Tanberg was so adamant about that whole retesting gig after physical contact ... well, it just makes me nervous as hell. *Damn*, but I wish he could give us some sort of stuff to look out for, or ways to defend ourselves from ... *whatever* that thing is." He began to pace about the room -- he was getting hyper. He needed to *do* something, and the stretching exercises hadn't centered him all that well.
[ CT ]
Jack added to Quentin, "I don't think Mogul's in our bodyguard Kirk. I think he would have seemed ... more erratic. But, he just seemed a little sleepy."
He couldn't help but admit the fact though, "I suppose I don't really know what a Mogul-possessed person would act like."
[ MT ]
Alex pretended for a little to be reading the paper while actually examining Jack's behavior. Some of his comments could be interpreted in sinister ways ... Alex shook his head, gave Quentin a quick glance, and then answered: "We left a guy behind? I must have been too absorbed in what was going on with the Spirit Plates and such to notice."
[ CC ]
Quentin let out an exasperated sigh. "Well, for starters, that person would be snapping necks and tackling linemen." He stopped pacing and shook his head. "No, scratch that. I'm sorry, guys." He drew a hand down across his face, wiping imaginary sweat. "I'm just not in the best mood, and I *hate* being put in this kind of position. At least on stage, I *know* what's going to happen and what to expect. All ... *this*," he said, opening his arms wide to encompass the room, the island, and the world, "... is just, just a bit much, that's all." He let his arms drop, and he sighed again.
[ CT ]
A slow grin appeared on Jack's face, "You've studied improv, haven't you?" He shrugged, "I know it's not the same. And you're right, it *IS* a lot." Jack flopped onto the couch next to Alex and kicked off his shoes.
[ CC ]
"Anyway, now that we're alone," Quentin said, with a wry arching of his eyebrows to imaginary bug locations and a mocking grin, "I saw a bit more than just a lucid acid trip during that at- tunement whocheewhatzit. The world got ... *crisper* somehow, but looking at people was a whole different matter. Both of you, I saw like reflections, like I could see through your eyes, kinda like an out-of-body experience, but not quite.
[ CT ]
Jack turned toward Alex, "Sounds like something up your alley."
[ MT ]
Alex had been listening carefully, with eyes still more or less on the newspaper. "Artificially induced satori? I wonder more and more about what messing with Castleman's work would do to our karma." Alex shrugged and said a silent prayer to himself.
[ CC ]
Castleman, however, was almost like he wasn't even there. And the *bodyguard* ..." Quentin's voice got sharper and earnest. In a low tone, he continued, "I didn't get that out-of-body thing with him. Instead, I saw a yellow cloud, similar to that other one we saw, but centered on him." He stood tall. "*That's* what got me worried about him being ridden by this Mogul thing or something like it. And he's been acting weird. Even if he isn't being ridden right now, I'd bet money that he *had* been, and that puts us all in danger."
[ CT ]
"Dun-dun-dun!" Jack blurted out a menacing music riff. He said quite earnestly however, "Do you think we should mention that to the two guys outside?" Jack nodded toward the door.
[ CC ]
"Well, this sounds like something we should take directly to Tanberg, in my opinion," Quentin said. "He's the one coordinating this effort, and he's the one who can test folks. And, considering that Castleman has been researching this stuff for a while, maybe he and Tanberg can compare notes or something." He shrugged.
"And I can't believe we forgot a friggin' *bodyguard*!" Quentin exclaimed. He resumed his pacing, waiting to see what the others had to say.
[ PC ]
Nervous energy kept the three brother's from resting completly as they waited for news of Tanberg to arrive. There was a knock at their door some twenty odd minutes later. Tanberg were standing outside.
"Well I'm glad to see that *you* made it back," Tanberg's sardonic smile smothed as the entered. "Amanda is at the hospital with Hudson, being treated for the effects of possession. She should be awake and about by sometime tomorrow morning."
He sat in the single chair with a sigh. He seemed tired and almost to have aged since they had last seen him. "So tell me. What did you find at Faskil and Castleman's that was worth the risk of walking into the den of your father's greatest rival?"
This site maintained by Paul Campbell My PGP Public Key
This Page Last Modified: Wed, 3 Jan 2001
|
|