Excerpt: Wingate Smith & the Lost Treasure of Aer Lingus

Meanwhile, on Earth, Mollie Smith ducked under the door frame and dropped assorted coins and cigarette packets on to one of the desks in the room. This definitely was Earth which is why Mollie had to duck. The doors she typically encountered being designed for humans, rather than humans who are six feet and twelve inches tall. Which is what she was. Her uncle, employer and role model was shadow boxing in the middle of the room and pretty generally loosing. The trouble was, the morning sun came through the south facing windows far too brightly. In direct sunlight Wingate's shadow was too strong. Also, even the most charitable of critics, normally a contradiction in terms, would not describe him as a fit man.

“I tried shadow boxing,” Mollie said, whumping down into her chair and using the momentum to swing about two girls worth of legs up on to her desk, “Had to stop of course. Broke its arm...”

“Your shadow?” puffed Wingate. Unusually, puffing air right now, and not smoke.

“Yup. It was embarrassing more than anything else. People kept asking why it had a cast when I didn't.”

Wingate 'hummed' intelligently and paid for it by conceding an easy right to the jaw. Mollie winced and offered advice as she groped for her 'see no evil' pipe, which was right at the bottom of the poacher's pocket of her duster.

“Don't get on the back foot,” she instructed, not much knowing what that meant, “Act, don't react.”

These things seemed terribly good advice for a boxer, even if, by its definition, one's shadow must be reacting, rather than acting. Mollie struck a match to light her pipe and for a moment it seemed as though the newly cast shadow of the pipe might be about to start something, but one glance was enough to stop that kind of non-sense. The smell of tobacco brought Wingate back to his senses and he retired to the window side of the room. Hardly sporting as his shadow couldn't reach him there, but there you are. Some might say cheating, some might say outwitting.

Wingate said, “The trick is to move fast, but not so fast the Cherenkov Radiation makes even more shadows.”

“So I've often heard,” Mollie flicked her box of matches at Wingate, because he was clearly searching for his own, “Cherenkov Radiation. That's what everyone always says.”

Strrk-Fssss – puff puff – Mmmm, “Everyone knows what they're talking about,” Wingate said with smoke.

“I assume this is something to do with the cardiogram?”

Wingate looked through his own cloud of smoke, and through Mollie's, and met her eye, “No.”

“Ah, that bad, eh?”

“No.”

“Oh dear.”

“You just assume that because I had a cardiogram, I must be ill.”

“No, I just assume that because you have the physique of a hot air balloon and the lungs of an industrial revolution you'll never get good news about your heart.”

Wingate waved his fag for emphasis, “It hasn't escaped yet, I count that as good news.”

“Do what I did. If your heart escapes you might be able to lure it into a trap with some Mills & Boon.”

Whatever reply might have been forth coming was forever lost when the telephone rang, “Smith and Smith,” answered Mollie, before adding, somewhat redundantly, “Smith speaking.”

Wingate retracted the hand that was halfway to his own receiver. He still hadn't got used to letting Mollie talk to people on his behalf. A bonus of having an assistant, of course, but still...

“Smith,” she said, “S-M-I-T-H,” pause, “No, the 'P' is silent... And also invisible.”

Clearly, she had a live one.

“Let me transfer you to Mr. Smith,” Mollie did just that, by tossing her receiver to Wingate with no warning. He fumbled it and by the time it was clamped to his ear a tinny voice on the other end was bleating 'hello-hello-hello?'.

“Wingate Smith speaking,” Wingate ground out his cigarette and spun a pad into position in case he needed to take notes.

“Oh, you are there.”

Wingate looked around curiously, to confirm that he was “Yes, I think so.”

“I'm Professor Pierce at the University of Dublin and... And I rather need your help.”

“That's what we're here for, Professor.”

The Irishman didn't say anything for a moment, and Wingate began to doodle on his pad. Presently, Professor Pierce found his train of thought and it departed the station, “You came very highly recommended, Mister Hamilton, do you recall?”

“Yes, yes. Nice chap, didn't need that sort of nonsense getting in his way.”

“Well quite, one of my undergraduates knows him, recommended you right away.”

“Recommend me for what?”

“Well, it's ah, sensitive.”

“Confidentiality is assured. We understand that the more esoteric truths of the world can be academically embarrassing.”

“Esoteric truths?” Professor Pierce sounded distracted.

“Yes,” said Wingate, who had run out of pad and was doodling on the desk, “We understand that a respected Professor can't just go chasing after goblins and keep his reputation. Is it goblins? Terrible trouble this time of year. It's the equinox you see.”

“But there's not an equinox for months.”

“Exactly, it keeps them in check. That's what equinoxes are for. Not many people know that.”

“Well... Well, anyway, it's not, not goblins. No, you see, I was carrying some artefacts back from an archaeological expedition and one of the, ah, items went missing in transit.”

Wingate considered this, “You do know we're paranormal detectives, not the lost and found?”

“Believe me,” assured Professor Pierce, “If there was anyone else I could turn to, I would. The fact of the matter is though, that all the artefacts were in the same sealed chest, and only one disappeared. Right out of a locked box, in a plane's hold in mid flight.”

“I see... And you're sure it's not goblins?”

“Mr. Wingate are you taking this seriously?”

“I come highly recommended because I consider all possibilities, Professor. That's how I solve cases. What is it that vanished?”

“Well, there is some controversy, but I believe it to be orichalcum. It's a life sized clockwork dragon fly, which I believe to be Atlantean in origin.”

“I see,” said Wingate. He tore of the top page of his pad, drew a large pound sign on the second page and held it up to show Mollie. What he said was, “We'll take the case.”