Before I knew it, Claire was back with my carefully folded and neatly laundered and pressed uniform, together with my underpants, shoes, socks, tie and shirt. As she handed them to me, she said "Look, I think I ought to warn you. You're famous – I don't mean just round here or even in Britain, but world famous. Ever since you got back there have been photographers and reporters surrounding this hospital, waiting to get a glimpse of the man who went to the far side of the moon and lived to tell the tale."
I started getting dressed, taking no notice of the fact that she was standing there right next to me. "One odd question, Claire. When I was brought in here, was there a ball of wool in one of my jacket pockets?"
"A ball of wool. I don't think so, but then I wasn't here at the time. I'll ask around if you like. Why would you have a ball of wool?"
I explained briefly about tying the woollen thread round the letter box and paying it out to help us find our way back. The last thing I remembered was sticking it in my pocket, so it should have been still there. Claire was the one who saw the flaw in this.
"Did you untie the thread when you got into the lift?"
"No, I ... oh, I see. The lift door would have closed on the thread itself. To be honest, it was pitch black in that lift. No, literally, you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. I don't remember the ball being pulled from my pocket, though. Mind you, Anita and I were both pretty much out of it by then."
That was a shame, I thought. It may only have been a humble ball of wool, but it would have been nice to have a souvenir of some sort. Some object that had actually come from the New World. But, wait a minute, hang on, wait just one minute!
"I had a body camera on me! My uniform was tagged out with one of those new-fangled body cameras that the top brass are rolling out across the service. I shouldn't think it would have recorded any images, but it must have recorded sounds, surely." I was thinking of those ear-splitting screams that Anita had produced.
This question went unanswered as the door opened with a bang at that moment. Superintendent Sugden and Chief Superintendent Brewer both strode in. Sugden immediately walked smartly over to where I was still struggling with my shirt cuffs and grabbed my hand, shaking it firmly.
"Pritchard, old chap. My God, it's good to see you up and about."
"Thank you, sir. It's good to be back." I turned to the Chief Superintendent and acknowledged his presence. "Sir."
They were both agog for details of my trip, which was perfectly understandable. Brewer came closer, "I know you're going to be submitting a full report later, but we'd be very grateful for any information you can give us now." From the expressions on their faces, it was clear that I wasn't going to be able to leave that room without giving my account again. Was I doomed to spend the rest of my life retelling my tale again and again? This must have been how Neil Armstrong was treated after coming back from his moon landing.
I repeated the story again, trying not to sound as if I wanted to get through it as quickly as possible. Again, they got the essential details – the darkness, the lack of sound or sensation, meeting Anita in the flat and our eventual escape. And, of course, they got the salacious titbits – the demon woman and the red cross – that they obviously craved.
"You'll put all this in a report, won't you, Pritchard? This will form an essential part in our archives."
"Yes, sir, of course. Archives?"
"The Black Museum, of course."
Now this was a definite accolade. The Crime Museum of Scotland Yard, or "Black Museum" as it's generally known, only contains the most bizarre and outlandish memorabilia associated with the most famous crimes in service's history, including those of Dr. Crippen, Donald Neilson the Black Panther and John Reginald Christie. The murder weapon that Lord Lucan used to kill his nanny is in there, as are possessions owned by the Kray twins and the Great Train Robbers. And my report would be joining these illustrious items!
YOU ARE READING
Dangerous Games
ParanormalA mystery with a strong supernatural element written from the point of view of one of the investigating police officers, that takes the form of a cautionary tale as to what can happen when a dare gets out of hand. Three girls having a sleepover egg...