The Medusa Ritual - Installment 10
The Medusa Ritual
A Pierce Mostyn Paranormal Investigation
by
CW Hawes
Wait, a minute. Are you trying to tell me that mythology is real?
Well, maybe not real, but in this case…
Read on! The adventure continues!
11
Mostyn didn’t sleep well in spite of Dr Bardon’s help. All night he dreamed of Dotty, and the dreams weren’t good. Finally at a quarter past six, he got up, showered, and dressed, and went to the conference room. He was surprised to see Dr Bardon there, drinking tea and smoking his pipe.
“Ah, Pierce, my boy, sit down. May I pour you a cup of tea, or do you wish to wait for coffee?”
“I’ll wait for the coffee.” Mostyn took a seat.
“They should be bringing it soon.”
“What are you doing here, sir, if I may ask?”
“Thinking. I’ll be leaving later this morning.”
Mostyn nodded. He knew better than to ask the boss what he was thinking about. If Bardon wanted him to know he’d tell him, and Bardon said nothing. Mostyn got up and went to the window. He looked out over the Los Angeles skyline. Out there somewhere was Dotty Kemper, the ancient book they were after, and the masked man.
“I know what Dotty means to you, Pierce. However, the book is the top priority.”
Mostyn turned and faced his boss. “Do you, sir?” Mostyn kept his voice steady.
“Yes, Pierce, I do. And I care about her, as well. Not in the same manner as you, but I do care. I am human, Pierce. Sometimes, all too human. I understand your feelings. I have lived and loved too.”
Mostyn took a deep breath and exhaled. “The mission first. Yes, sir, I understand.” Mostyn turned back to look out the window.
In a moment, Bardon was standing next to him. “This job we do is very difficult. Very difficult. There are days when I would like nothing better than to walk away and spend the rest of my days reading novels, drinking port and tea, and smoking my pipe.”
“Truly, sir?”
“Yes, Pierce, truly.” Bardon put his hand on Mostyn’s shoulder. “We have, however, a higher calling.”
“Yes, sir.”
The door opened and in came Jones, NicAskill, and Dr Stoppen, followed by the hotel staff person with the breakfast cart.
“Good morning, Los Angeles!” Jones said. “And to you, Dr Bardon, and to you, Boss.”
Mostyn and Bardon turned around, and at the same time said, “Jones.” They extended morning greetings to the others and took their seats at the table. When the cart was empty and the staff person was wheeling it away, the remaining team members arrived.
Bardon stood and indicated everyone still standing should take a seat. “I’ll be leaving shortly. Your mission is to find the book and secondly to retrieve Dr Kemper. I’ve briefed Special Agent in Charge Mostyn on the things he missed while drugged. I have confidence you’ll succeed, and look forward to your return. I leave the briefing in Special Agent Mostyn’s very capable hands.” The director wished everyone a good day and left.
Mostyn stood and went to the head of the table. “As Dr Bardon said, he briefed me on what’s been happening. Did he say anything to you, while I was out of action?”
“Nope,” Jones said. “Told us you’d fill us in.”
“Very well.” Mostyn went on and told his team what Bardon had told him the night before. When he was finished, he entertained questions.
NicAskill was first. “Cortado didn’t carve those statues. That I think is obvious. Even without the opinion of the geeks in the lab. So the question is, how did those people get turned to stone? Does this have something to do with the book we’re looking for?”
“The answer to your second question, Agent NicAskill,” Dr Stoppen said, “is very likely. Dr Bardon believes there is a ritual in the book which will summon or create a Gorgon.”
“What’s that?” Jones asked.
“The Medusa?” Stoppen said.
“You mean that woman who was so butt ugly she turned people to stone?” Jones asked.
Stoppen, a smile on his face, said, “That’s one way of putting it.”
“So what you’re telling us,” NicAskill said, “is that we’re dealing with a mythological creature here.”
Stoppen nodded. “That’s what Dr Bardon believes. Only it isn’t a myth.”
“Let me get this straight,” Jones said. “There’s a butt ugly woman running around LA turning people to stone. Those people we found that were in the art gallery.”
“That’s what he’s saying,” Hammerschmidt said.
“Yes,” Stoppen confirmed. “Whoever has the book, has created or unleashed a Gorgon.”
NicAskill sat back in her chair and muttered, “Well I’ll be damned.”
“Why the hell didn’t he tell us this to begin with?” Dr Petrie asked.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Dr Stoppen,” Mostyn said. “It’s because Bardon wasn’t sure. Our discovery of the statues confirmed Dr Bardon’s suspicion.”
Stoppen nodded to let Mostyn know he was correct.
“Any other questions?” Mostyn asked. “Okay, seeing none, let’s move on. NicAskill and Dr Petrie, you spoke with the family of Fiorella Flores-Hernández?”
“We did,” NicAskill said.
“Good thing we know Spanish,” Petrie said.
“What did you find out?” Mostyn asked.
“Fiorella lost her job thirteen months ago,” NicAskill began. “She was a secretary at FAZ Logistics. She was unable to find another job and her roommate kicked her out when she didn’t pay the rent. She lived with her parents in Avocado Heights, but she wore out her welcome at home and started staying with extended family and friends until she pretty much wasn’t welcomed anywhere. At that point she ended up staying in parks in downtown LA.”
“And at that point she disappears,” Petrie said. “Her family lost contact with her.”
“Until she shows up at an art exhibit as a statue,” NicAskill added, and after a pause said, “Her mother gave us a picture so we could find her. They, her mother and father, feel terribly guilty. They feel they should have had more patience with her.”
Mostyn looked out the window. Like so many homeless, he thought, she ends up in the big city. The cold, cruel, heartless city. Dotty’s somewhere in this city.
His eyes took in the buildings and the streets. In the distance he saw two jets. His mind drifted to the masked man. The Chinese-looking mask. The Chinese robe he wore. The voice.
He turned back to his team sitting around the table, watching him. “He’s Chinese. The masked man is Chinese. Maybe originally from Hong Kong. Dr Stoppen, you and Willie Lee are to visit every antique bookstore in LA.”
“I can do that. I know where all the important dealers are.”
“Good. Find out everything scrap of gossip about the book you can. Report back here by seven tonight. The rest of us are going to Chinatown.”
***
Mostyn sent Jones and Hammerschmidt to the north end of Chinatown with instructions to work their way south. NicAskill and Petrie were to begin and the opposite end and move north. The two teams meeting somewhere in the middle.
As for himself, he had a different task. He went to the county recorder’s office and began looking through the platt books to get an idea as to who owned what in Los Angeles. The clerk had given him no trouble whatsoever, even showed him to a desk he could use. Such was the power of his IRS ID badge.
Taking no chances, Mostyn had put on his disguise. A dark brown wig to cover his strawberry blond crewcut. A fake mustache and Van Dyke beard in the same color as the wig. He’d used a makeup pencil to color in his eyebrows, and he wore a pair of dark brown framed glasses.
He carefully examined the books, often resorting to a magnifying glass, paying particular attention to Chinatown. It took him a couple of hours of looking at a myriad of names to notice a pattern of holdings by the Ching Wo Company, Inc. He took pictures of the platt book and texted the address of the Ching Wo Company back to headquarters requesting information.
With the request sent off, Mostyn flagged down one of the clerks. “Say, can you tell me if there’s any significance as to why someone would want properties along this route, and this one?”
The man followed the two routes Mostyn pointed out. After a minute or so, he said, “Beats me. The old subway ran along this route.” He pointed to the map. “Don’t know if there’s any significance.”
“What about this one?”
The man shrugged. “Those properties are on top of some of the old tunnels under LA.”
“What were the tunnels used for?”
“Beats me. I think they were service tunnels. Gangsters used them during Prohibition, so I’ve heard, to transport booze. There were even bars down there. The King Eddy used to be down there. A music store was the cover. Now the bar is where the music store was. You can still access the tunnels from there.”
“Thank you,” Mostyn said.
“Sure. Don’t mention it.”
Mostyn smiled. Everything was beginning to come together.
To Be Continued!
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