Tales from the Triverse

The creature: part 5

Early shift
On duty: DC Yannick Clarke and DC Lola Styles

London.
1973. February.

The office was unexpectedly quiet. Lola still had one hand on the door, wondering for a moment if she'd gone to the wrong floor. But no, it was the SDC office, complete with the usual desks and cabinets and pin boards. There was Robin, already on the telephone. Through the window blinds she could see that the partitioned rooms were empty, so none of the bosses were in yet. It was early, to be fair, but it's not like she had anywhere better to be. The other door leading to the kitchen banged open and DS Collins walked in backwards, carrying two cups of coffee.

"Ah, Styles," he said, "glad you're here. Have you heard from Holland or Hobb?"

She blinked, feeling a sudden knot of tension in her gut. "I just got here. Why would I have heard from them? Aren't they here already with our guests?"

"That's the thing," Collins said, speaking slowly, as if he were reluctant to tell her the bad news. "They picked up the VIPs from the portal station last night, but we're not sure where they went after that."

Robin looked up and put a hand over the mouthpiece of the telephone. "Morning Lola, how are you? Quick update from down the road, no big surprises: they're in the pub."

Collins rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger and let out a deflated whimper. Robin shrugged her shoulders apologetically and turned her attention back to the phone.

In the pub. Holland and Hobb had a simple job, which was to get the hunters into their pre-booked accommodation and make sure they showed up on time to the office for their full briefing. It was a disaster before it had even got started.

*

She met Clarke coming the other way down the street. The White Horse was near to the SDC offices and Robin, being Robin, had put in a call to the establishment on the off chance that the landlord might know something. Turned out the landlord knew a lot, and it was still happening. Robin had noted that there was 'a lot of shouting' in the background on the call.

Barely even stepping foot into the office, Lola had turned on her heel and raced back down the stairs to the street. Clarke had been on his way in.

"Where you going in such a hurry?" he said, looking slightly dishevelled as he tended to in his pre-coffee state of being.

"The Palinor hunters arrived early, as in, in the middle of the night early," she explained, grabbing him by the shoulder and pivoting him around to follow her. "The welcome wagon went by the name of Holland and Hobb and it wheeled them straight into the boozer.

Clarke laughed involuntarily, then looked more concerned as he considered what she'd said. "Not the two I'd have picked to greet our guests, but here we are." He realised where she was leading him. "Hold on, are they still in the pub?"

She flung her arms wide in exasperation. "Apparently so! Not exactly the professional introduction I'd have gone for."

"Jesus," he grumbled, cracking his neck from one side to the other. "Right, let's go get them out of there so we can get out with hunting this critter." He frowned. "I didn't think The White Horse opened this early in the morning."

Slinging him a withering look, Lola grimaced. "I get the feeling it never shut."

Clarke pushed open the door to the pub and led the way inside. It was dark, stank of stale beer and sweat, and the sounds of singing came from one of the recessed areas. The bartender was leaning on the wooden bar top, chin propped up on one hand and looking half asleep.