Showing posts with label Medusa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Medusa. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 23, 2019

Pierce Mostyn in The Medusa Ritual




Pierce Mostyn, that intrepid foe of the things that go bump in the night, last appeared in Van Dyne’s Vampires, published October of last year.

Next week he will appear in a new adventure, his fifth: The Medusa Ritual.

The germ of the idea for Mostyn’s latest adventure can be found in the Hazel Heald and Lovecraft collaboration “The Man of Stone”. Collaboration, though, is a generous term; for, according to ST Joshi, Heald seems to have contributed virtually no prose to the story — based on textual evidence.

Thus, Heald probably only provided a story idea for Lovecraft to run with. Which he did, and that story then provided me with the idea for The Medusa Ritual. So thank you Hazel for that original idea!

However, while “The Man of Stone” got the wheels turning for The Medusa Ritual, there is nothing of the earlier story in the later one other than people being turned to stone.

While Van Dyne’s Vampires focused on what is essentially a mad scientist and his monsters, in Mostyn’s new adventure we return to the world of cosmic horror. That world where the terror originates from the realization that in the big picture we are completely and totally insignificant. A realization that can easily drive us to despair, madness, or self-destruction.

Nietzsche’s answer to achieving this awareness and its accompanying despair, was for the person to become a creative individual. To become as a god, in other words, for gods create; and in creating, the individual can thereby bring meaning to his or her otherwise meaningless life.

Nietzsche’s answer was essentially an existential one. We are in command of our fate. Counter the meaninglessness of existence by creating your own meaning.

Lovecraft, on the other hand, retreated into antiquarianism, and racial and cultural identity. The old days are good. The old ways are known and comfortable. My own kind are known to me. The foreigner is unknown, a mystery, and therefore suspect.

In Lovecraft’s fiction we see his philosophy play out in his vision of our world having been invaded by alien monster beings who have no regard for us. In strange, swarthy, and dark foreigners who do the bidding of these monsters. And in the insignificance of us Westerners and our science in the face of these ancient beings and their magical rituals. HPL’s conclusion is that it’s best if we don’t know too much of what is really out there, or know any of it at all.

When I come away from reading Lovecraft, I have the feeling that ignorance is bliss. In being ignorant, I can live my life in the delusion that this is a world of meaning and purpose. That I have essential meaning and purpose.

In “The Shadow over Innsmouth”, the narrator comes face to face with the horror of the curtain being pulled aside to reveal what truly is. He has looked into the abyss. In the end, when he realizes that he too will eventually join those monstrous denizens of the deep, rather than end his life, he resigns himself to his fate. For Lovecraft, once we know the truth, we either surrender to it, or go mad, or destroy ourselves. There is no Nietzschian optimism in Lovecraft.

Pierce Mostyn, knowing the truth, doesn’t go mad or destroy himself, but he is weighed down by the understanding that in the end all of his actions are futile. He resorts to duty to keep on going. Much like the ancient Roman Stoics. Duty gives him purpose and meaning in what is an otherwise meaningless and chaotic universe.

Now all of the above is a heck of a lot of philosophy. But don’t worry. It’s all in the background. The Medusa Ritual is not a philosophical treatise. It’s a tale of cosmic horror with plenty of action, adventure, monsters, and daring do. Just what we want to read. Right?

And it will be available, Amazon willing, on July 29th for your reading pleasure.


Comments are always welcome; and, until next time, happy reading!

Thursday, May 30, 2019

The Medusa Ritual - Installment 18




The Medusa Ritual
A Pierce Mostyn Paranormal Investigation
by
CW Hawes


Dotty’s rescued. But will Pierce Mostyn be able to stop the Masked Man’s escape?
Read on for the thrilling conclusion of The Medusa Ritual!


Chapter 23


Mostyn hit the floor, and took out his pistol. He saw light in the entryway of one of the tunnels, and then gunfire erupted.
Jones, Mostyn thought. Hallelujah!
Arcing through the air were two flares. They hit the wall and fell to the floor. The bright light illuminated the situation in the small chamber. Mostyn’s eyes swept the room. He spotted two men struggling to drag Dotty from the chamber.
Mostyn fired a double-tap from his pistol, sending two forty-five caliber bullets into one of the men. The man pitched forward as if he’d been hit with a sledgehammer. The other man let go of Dotty, turned around, and fell backwards under the impact from another pair of bullets sent by Mostyn’s pistol.
With pistol in one hand and knife in the other, Mostyn low crawled across the floor to where Dotty lay. When he reached her, he positioned himself in front of her and took in the scene. Several of the black suits lay dead, there was no sign of the masked man or the Chinese woman. Jones, Baker, Hammerschmidt, and Stoppen entered the chamber. NicAskill stood up, her knife blade colored red.
Dotty groaned, and muttered, “Chinese woman. Stop her.”
Mostyn touched her cheek, stood, and said, “That tunnel,” he pointed to the one he meant, “the masked man and the Chinese woman were there. Let’s go.”
“Wait a minute,” Jones said, “where are the lizard people?”
“You saw them too?” NicAskill said.
“They led us here,” Jones replied.
“Well, I’ll be…,” NicAskill muttered.
“Let’s go!” Mostyn shouted. “Jones, NicAskill, you first. And when you see the masked man or the woman that was with him, shoot first, ask questions later.”
“Right, Boss,” Jones said, and plunged into the tunnel, with NicAskill following.
“Baker, Hammerschmidt, you two help Dotty.”
“My God, Mostyn, she’s in her birthday suit,” Baker said, dropping his pack and stripping off his shirt.
“Thanks, Willie Lee,” Mostyn replied, and to Dr Stoppen he said, “Follow me!”
Mostyn and Stoppen plunged into the tunnel. Almost immediately Mostyn noticed the tunnel descending deeper into the earth.
Maybe this connects to the auditorium, he thought.
Jones and NicAskill were about fifty ahead of Mostyn. They ran around a curve in the tunnel, and a moment later Mostyn, significantly ahead of Stoppen, rounded the curve and almost ran into Jones, who’d stopped.
Before them stood the Chinese woman. Her hand was raised in a signal to halt. “The master says, goodbye. It is time for you to die.”
The Chinese woman’s eyes turned red and she began to change shape.
“She’s the Gorgon!” Mostyn yelled, Dotty’s words suddenly making sense. Jones, NicAskill, and Mostyn opened fire on her. The Gorgon’s body shook and twisted under the impact of the bullets, but was still standing when the three OUP agents ran out of ammunition.
Her beautiful face was still visible, but her body was halfway between a woman’s and something amorphous, slimy, and tentacled. Out of her head, where her hair had been, tentacles were emerging. Rivulets of green ooze were streaming from the many wounds. Mostyn could already feel a certain paralysis setting in. He turned around, ejected the magazine from his pistol, slammed a new one home, and racked the slide. He grabbed his mirror, held it up, and opened fire, watching the monster in the mirror. The first half dozen bullets missed. The next two, however, smashed their way through the thing’s neck, nearly severing the head.
The Gorgon collapsed to the floor. Jones shook himself, muttering, “What the hell?”
NicAskill shook her head and took a deep breath. “My God, I couldn’t breathe.”
“You two alright?” Mostyn asked.
“Yep,” Jones said. “Although for a moment there, it was like I couldn’t make a decision.”
“Me, too. But I’m ready to go, sir,” NicAskill added.
“Where’s Dr Stoppen?” Mostyn asked.
“Here.” Stoppen crept around the curve with a sheepish look on his face.
“Okay,” Mostyn said, “let’s go. One monster down, and one to go.”
Down the tunnel they continued, coming out in the auditorium, which smelled of scorched stone from the thermobaric grenade.
Jones swept the place with his flashlight and helmet lamp. “No one seems to be here.”
“The masked man disappeared when I tossed the stun grenade on the dais,” Mostyn said. “There must be another tunnel somewhere around there.”
The team walked to the dais and Jones swept the area with the twin beams of his lights.
“Give me your flashlight,” Mostyn said.
Jones handed the light to him, and Mostyn walked to the back wall, sweeping the beam of light across the stone. Not finding what he was looking for, he panned the beam of light across the floor.
“Ah, here it is,” he said, pointing to a crack along a portion of the line where the floor and wall meet. He then played the beam of light along the wall. “I don’t see a trigger, unless…” Mostyn pushed on the door and it swung inwards, revealing another tunnel.
“Jones, wedge this open so Baker and Hammerschmidt can follow.” He then entered the tunnel followed by NicAskill, Stoppen, and Jones.
Jones called out, “I saw Baker and Hammerschmidt enter the auditorium with Kemper when I jammed open the door.”
Mostyn waved his hand to signal he’d heard.
They followed the tunnel as it made a couple right angle turns and finally emptied into a large chamber. A chamber that was illuminated and filled with books, thousands of books filling the shelves from floor to ceiling along all four walls. In the middle was a large desk and chair. In one corner was a large and ornate Oriental folding screen. The screen was black and on it was a swirling chaos of red and orange, with two yellow cat eyes peering out of the chaos.
From around the screen, stepped the masked man. “You have found me. Most unfortunate for you.”
Mostyn raised his pistol.
“You cannot kill me, Mr Mostyn,” the masked man said.
“Want to see me try?” Mostyn replied.
“Many men have, you see, and I am still here.”
Behind Mostyn, Jones, and NicAskill, Dr Stoppen took out of his pocket a small black object and tossed it over the head of Jones. The little thing hit the floor, bounced once, and transformed into a hulking black monstrosity.
The masked man cried out, threw a handful of red dust into the air, and turned to flee. The monstrosity reached out, grabbed the masked man, pulled the screaming man to itself, and vanished.
“What the hell was that?” Jones asked.
“A class three demidaimonus,” Stoppen said. “A gift from Dr Bardon. For emergency use only.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” NicAskill said. “And you had this thing all the time?”
“Well, not all the time,” Stoppen replied. “Dr Bardon gave it to me before he left. He thought we might have use for it. But only in the most dire emergency. I thought this qualified.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Jones asked.
“Because Bardon said not to. If you have an issue with him swearing me to secrecy, take it up with him.”
“That’s alright, Otto,” Baker said, having entered the room with Hammerschmidt and Kemper at the tail end of the conversation. “We all know Bardon moves in mysterious ways his wonders to perform.”
Mostyn clapped Jones on the shoulder. “You ought to know by now, the Director has lots of goodies up his sleeves.”
“What I don’t get,” Jones said, “is why he just doesn’t do all this himself instead of sending us in harm’s way.”
“Well, Jones, he’s not God,” Mostyn replied.
“He’s almost like God,” NicAskill said. “Are you sure he isn’t some kind of supernatural being?”
Mostyn shrugged. “I only know what he told me.”
“Which was?” NicAskill said.
“That he’s human. All too human.”
Jones shook his head. “Yeah, right.”



Epilogue


Dr Rafe Bardon lit his old bent bulldog briar pipe. The odor of sweet Virginia pipe tobacco filled his office. Sitting on the other side of his desk were Mostyn and his team. There was an empty chair in remembrance of Dr Winifred Petrie.
“I want to begin by saying thank you for an outstanding job. You destroyed a star vampire and the Gorgon. Wing Lee is no longer with us. His incredible library is being cataloged by Dr Stoppen. And we have made contact with the lizard people. All in all, a superb job. Thank you all.”
“What about the family of Fiorella Flores-Hernandez?” NicAskill asked.
“Yes, very unfortunate,” Bardon said, nodding his head slowly and gravely. “They will be adequately taken care of.”
“But what did you tell them?” NicAskill pressed.
“Something they could believe,” Bardon replied. “After all, who would believe that an extra-dimensional entity killed their daughter by turning her to stone? Why such things are the stuff of myth!” Bardon’s face was serious, but there was definitely a twinkle in his eye.
“Well, again, I want to thank you for your service. You all did fine work. Thank you.” Bardon stood and everyone knew that was the signal the meeting was over. As people began filing out, Bardon said, “Mr Mostyn and Dr Kemper, if you’d be so kind as to wait a few moments?”
When everyone was gone, Mostyn and Kemper resumed their seats. Dr Bardon sat and relit his pipe. When he had it going, he spoke.
“I’m glad you got there in time, Pierce, otherwise our Dr Kemper would not be here and, well, we’d have a bigger problem on our hands.”
“What problem, sir?” Dotty asked.
“Don’t have time to go into it now, my dear. No, no time.”
Mostyn looked at Dotty. “Yes, we were very lucky getting there when we did, sir,” Mostyn said.
Bardon smiled. “Oh, I don’t think luck had anything to do with it.”
“What do you mean, sir?” Mostyn asked.
“Just what I said, my boy, just what I said. Now, unfortunately, I can’t give you two any time off. A very big discovery has been made by one of our satellites. The photos are phenomenal, and I have to send you two out right away.”
Bardon slid a folder to the edge of his desk. Mostyn picked up the folder and took a look inside.
“Is this for real?” Mostyn asked.
“It is, Pierce, my boy, it is.” Bardon rubbed his hands together in obvious glee. “The opportunity of a lifetime.”
“For crying out loud,” Dotty said, “will you two let me in on what’s going on?”
“Sorry, Dot,” Mostyn said, “we’re going to Saudi Arabia.” A wicked smile appeared on Mostyn’s face. “And just think…”
“What?” Dotty said.
“There won’t be any trees.”
A look of disgust appeared on her face. “Maybe not, but there will be plenty of goddamn sand. For once, just once, I’d like to get an assignment in a city.”
Dr Bardon leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across his ample stomach. Around his pipe, his mouth was stretched into a big smile. “Oh, you will, Dr Kemper, you will.”



The End




If you enjoyed reading the working draft of The Medusa Ritual, and would like to know when the final version will be released, become a VIP Reader and be the first to know! You’ll also get the Pierce Mostyn novelette, “The Feeder” — which is available only to my VIP Readers! 

If you haven’t read the other books in the Pierce Mostyn Paranormal Investigations series, check them out on Amazon.

What people are saying about the Pierce Mostyn series:

“…a fast-paced story with lots of action, yet does not neglect the characters.”

“Hawes has a great time with this series and does a good job (too good) of leaving us wanting more.”

“This series is fun…”

“…a weird tale of adventure, humor, and horror.”



The Medusa Ritual is copyright © 2019 by CW Hawes. All rights reserved.

Friday, May 24, 2019

The Medusa Ritual - Installment 17




The Medusa Ritual
A Pierce Mostyn Paranormal Investigation
by
CW Hawes


Will Pierce Mostyn make it in time to save Dotty Kemper from the sacrificial knife?
The adventure continues!


Chapter 22


Mostyn shrugged out of his backpack, took out a stun grenade, and hurled it onto the dais. The flash-bang caused instant pandemonium. Mostyn and NicAskill charged down the steps that led from the balcony to the main floor, across the auditorium and up the steps to the dais.
The women who had been holding Dotty were screaming their panic at being unable to see or hear. The man with the knife had vanished.
Mostyn picked up Dotty, who looked as though she’d been drugged, and headed back towards the steps leading up to the balcony.
A couple of the men who had been chanting tried blocking Mostyn’s way and were shot down by NicAskill. Up the stairs the three went, and once on the balcony, Mostyn laid Dotty down and tried to rouse her. NicAskill dispatched two more of the men who’d been chanting as they climbed the stairs.
“Can you get her awake, Boss?”
“She’s pretty much out of it. Keeps mumbling something about a Chinese woman, but I can’t make out the words.”
“We’re going to have to get a move on, they’re getting ready to mount a counterattack.”
“Alright, NicAskill, let’s go.” Mostyn slipped into his backpack and hoisted Dotty up over his shoulder and moved into the tunnel.
NicAskill fired a thermobaric grenade into the auditorium and then joined Mostyn. “That ought to slow them down, Boss.”
“Take the lead, NicAskill.”
“I can help carry her.”
“No, one of us needs to be ready for action.”
“Yes, sir.” NicAskill moved passed Mostyn, taking the lead, as they walked down the tunnel.
Two men appeared in the tunnel entrance, and NicAskill dropped them before they got off a shot. She sprinted ahead and at the tunnel entrance, Mostyn saw gun flashes and heard the firearm reports. He carefully lay Dotty down, and once again tried to rouse her. All he got was incoherent mumbling about the Chinese woman.
Mostyn stood and saw NicAskill hurl a grenade. The explosion was deafening in the confined world of the tunnel. And even where he was standing, his ears were ringing.
NicAskill yelled, “All clear for the moment,” and moved out into the intersection of the five tunnels.
Mostyn picked up Dotty and followed NicAskill into the intersection of the tunnels, where he saw that they were surrounded by armed men in black suits.

***

It hadn’t taken DC Jones long to figure out that Mostyn and NicAskill would soon be out of range and he’d lose contact with them. He made a call to Sumer Base and managed to relay through the static that Langston needed to send him the holographic map that he’d sent to Mostyn. Langston sent the map and now Jones had the tunnel system and also the little blinking dots from the sub-dermal trackers indicating where Dotty, Mostyn, and NicAskill were in the pile of spaghetti that was the tunnel system below Los Angeles.
Dr Otto Stoppen was the slowest moving in the group, which frustrated Jones to no end, as the doctor’s slowness prevented the team from making good time. However, with Langston’s guidance, Jones’s group was able to take a couple shortcuts that got them into Chinatown fairly quickly.
“Alright, Jones,” Langston began, “now that you’re under Chinatown, we’re going to be dependent on your eyes and ears. Our maps are close non-existent for this part of the tunnel system.”
“Roger that, Langston,” Jones replied, and began a running monologue of the tunnels as they passed through.
Fifteen or so minutes into the monologue, Jones said, “Okay, we’re coming up to a ninety degree left turn.” There was a brief pause, before Jones continued, “I’ve made the turn. There’s another tunnel coming in at a right angle… What the hell?”
Baker snapped a picture, at the same time saying, “Oh, my God, it’s the lizard people!”
Everyone came to a halt. In the tunnel joining the one Jones and the team were in, there were four strange looking beings. They were humanoid in form. Their skin had the texture of a lizard’s, and their heads were block-shaped, with the jaw protruding somewhat. They had two slits instead of a nose, and their ears were small and lay flat to the head. The creatures appeared to have no hair, or clothing.
Jones regained his composure first. He held up his hands, and said, “We won’t hurt you. We’re looking for our friends.”
Two of the creators looked at each other, then turned back to Jones. Into his mind popped images of Mostyn and NicAskill.
“Yes, yes!” Jones said, and smiled.
Next came an image of Dotty Kemper.
“Yes!” Jones said, and once again smiled.
A third image came into Jones’s mind, that of the masked man.
Jones shook his head, put on an angry face, and said, “No! He’s not our friend.”
The two creatures faced each other for some time, then one turned to Jones and in Jones’s mind a picture formed of him and the team following the creatures.
Jones smiled in reply and said, “Yes.”
“What’s going on down there, Jones?” Langston asked.
“Just made contact with the lizard people.”
“Lizard people? Are you serious?”
“Yep. Baker even snapped a pic. The lizard people know about Mostyn, NicAskill, and Kemper. If I understand them, they’re going to take us to them.”
“Sounds too good to be true.”
“We’ll find out.”
“You sure they aren’t a product of sewer gas? You know. You’re imagining them.”
Jones chuckled. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
The team followed the lizard people down the tunnel. The passageway made several turns and after the last one Jones saw light and heard voices, voices he recognized. The voices of Pierce Mostyn and Kymbra NicAskill.

***

“We’re a bit outgunned, Boss,” NicAskill said, “so what’s our game plan?”
“I thought you said it was all clear?”
“It was when I said it. So now what?”
Before Mostyn could answer, from out of one of the tunnels stepped the masked man. Next to him was a beautiful Chinese woman.
“Special Agent in Charge Pierce Mostyn, we meet again,” the masked man said in his ethereally sibilant voice. “Although you and your Dr Bardon did have me fooled. However, my accomplice,” he turned and gave a slight nod to the Chinese woman, “was able to extract much useful information from Dr Kemper. Now I know who you are and what you want. Unfortunately for you, you and Dr Bardon will not succeed this time.”
The masked man motioned with his hand and two men stepped up to Mostyn and took Dotty Kemper from him. As they were doing so, Dotty muttered, “Chinese woman, bad.”
“The conflagration you unleashed in my temple, Special Agent NicAskill, only delays the inevitable. However, I will now have you to sacrifice with Dr Kemper which will insure my success.”
The masked man made a movement with his hand and two men approached NicAskill. At that moment, a high-pitched cry, almost outside the range of human hearing, sounded, the bulbs in the flashlights and lanterns burst, and the tunnel went black.



To Be Continued!




While waiting for the next installment, the entire Pierce Mostyn Paranormal series is available for your reading pleasure.

Do you hate cliffhangers? There’s none in this series. Each book stands by itself.

Do you think books are magic? That for just a little while you can be anywhere, doing anything? Then join Pierce Mostyn and experience some magic!

What people are saying about the Pierce Mostyn series:

“…a fast-paced story with lots of action, yet does not neglect the characters.”

“Hawes has a great time with this series and does a good job (too good) of leaving us wanting more.”

“This series is fun…”

“…a weird tale of adventure, humor, and horror.”




Are engaging characters your thing? Join my VIP Readers and you’ll get the Pierce Mostyn novelette, “The Feeder” — available only to my VIP Readers! 

And you’ll be the first to know when the revised book version of The Medusa Ritual comes out!



The Medusa Ritual is copyright © 2019 by CW Hawes. All rights reserved.

Friday, April 5, 2019

The Medusa Ritual - Installment 10



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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