Death on the Nyle

The Black Tower

The shining black tower stretched into the star-filled lunar sky like a giant fang, dangerous and foreboding. Behind it, the milky-blue glow of the Earth was faintly visible, entirely insignificant beside the gloomy monolith.

The air-car driver shifted nervously and sniffed. "You're sure about this, Mr Beckett? You're sure this is the correct address?"

Beckett was of course certain, but to reassure the man, he withdrew his pocket-pad and checked the screen. "Yes, this is it," he said. Then, in as jovial a tone as he could muster, he added, "What do you know of the place?"

"Very little, sir. I know the locals call it the Nyle Manor, but not much more."

Beckett remained silent and smiling, waiting for the driver to continue.

"I—I—It's all rumours, sir, I'm sure that's all it is. But still, I've heard—"

"Heard what exactly?"

The air-car become enshrouded in dark as the fast-approaching tower blocked out the last of the light from the distant Earth. The driver shivered. "Strange things, they say, sir. Ghosts and spooks and the like." A high gate flew open as they advanced towards it.

Beckett sat back and rested his hands lightly on his rounded stomach. "I have heard the same stories," he said.

The vehicle came to a stop at its final destination, the bottom of a wide stairway, dimly illuminated by a series of solar lamps. The stairway was encased in a transparent cover, almost invisible in the darkness. The shaking driver turned around towards Beckett. "If you have heard the rumours, then, if you don't me asking, sir; what on Earth brings a gentleman like you all the way out here?"

Beckett engaged the airlock, opened the door and grabbed his overnight duffle bag from the seat beside him. "Because, my good man, I must confess that rumours of murder, ghosts, evil things and the like, are my greatest weakness. I find them insufferably irresistible."

With that, Beckett wished the driver a good night and commenced the long climb up the stairs to the dark tower.