Part 5, where we learn what we're up against

The diary

We retired once again to Edward's home, where I set upon Lawther's diary with considerable eagerness.

The three met entirely by chance at college, discovering their interests and temperaments aligned despite their differing vocations. Leslie provided the intellectual foundation for the device, Bartley applied his engineering skills to refine it, and Lawther rendered the prototype drawings. Once the contraption was constructed, they required test subjects. Leslie, by then employed in the hospital mortuary department, arranged for an initial trial upon a cadaver, which proved unsuccessful. He then made the fateful decision to test the apparatus upon a comatose patient. Lawther notes the patient was terminal in any case, but the scandal, when discovered, was considerable.

From Lawther's perspective, that concluded the enterprise. They remained friends but abandoned the machine entirely. Two years hence, Lawther learns that Leslie has been invited to join the Pacific Club, a reasonably reputable gentleman's club. Lawther requests an introduction and simultaneously confronts Leslie, demanding he cease further experimentation. Leslie refuses, maintaining he is merely offering desperate souls "a second chance." He apparently now commands considerable funding.

That is the substance of the journal. One detail arrests my attention: Lawther's parents were a seamstress and a train conductor. How a young man of such modest origins managed to fund a college education is a question worth pursuing.

The agent of inquiry

Meanwhile, Beckett and Reggie returned to Lawther's studio, operating under the theory that a more thorough search might yield further evidence. They were correct. Several papers were concealed behind one of the paintings, discovered through what I shall attribute to Reggie's professional instincts.

Shortly thereafter, a stocky fellow of around five feet eight inches, sporting a substantial mustache and bowler hat, entered the studio without noticing our men concealed within. He proceeded to search the room in a manner suggesting he knew what he was looking for. Reggie stepped from the shadows and identified himself. The man gave his name as Merril Langhorne, describing himself as an agent of inquiry. He initially declined to identify his employer, until Reggie impressed upon him the inadvisability of obstructing a Yard detective. He then admitted to working for one Lorraine Damyon, a friend of Lawther's who refused to accept the official verdict of suicide. Langhorne inquired whether any written materials had been found. Our men denied this. Langhorne appeared unconvinced. Business cards were exchanged with mutual assurances of cooperation.

The concealed papers proved more illuminating. Among them, Reggie discovered the identity of Leslie's benefactor: one Roland Haborian, of a notable and wealthy noble family. He apparently leads what one might describe as a club within the club, operating under the designation "Under the Sea." Given Leslie's ravings, I find the name unsettling. 

Secrets revealed

Several conclusions emerged from our collective examination of the journals:

• The Order presents itself as rational and civil initially, becoming progressively more controlling as members become further enmeshed. Both Lawther and Leslie attest to this.
• Recurring themes of submersion and surveillance permeate both accounts.
• Both men write of "they" and an "it." The former apparently worship the latter, described as ancient beyond reckoning, predating the city itself.
• As time progresses, both men struggle to distinguish reality from dreams and visions, Leslie with particular severity.
• Lawther initially sought to leave the Order. By the journal's final entries, this desire appears entirely extinguished.
• Most troubling: the pentagram overlaid upon London in the journal's final page suggests an underground network utilizing tunnels of Roman origin. "The feast" and the "it" are described as predating even these ancient passages.

The scope of the conspiracy is becoming uncomfortable to contemplate. While our party represents a reasonable combination of knowledge and capability, confronting the likes of Haborian and whatever stands behind him is a daunting proposition. And that is before accounting for whatever darker instruments they might command.

Lorraine

We deemed it prudent to locate this Lorraine and verify Langhorne's claims. She might also provide further leads. We could attempt to ingratiate ourselves with Sir Haborian and his club directly, but that would require considerable time and carry substantial personal risk. I prefer to exhaust more circumspect approaches first.

Nash was dispatched to frequent the establishments known from the journals as student haunts. Phillip remains indisposed, presumably working his way through Scotland's whisky reserves at some considerable rate. I resolved to dig up the poor fellow soon. After several hours, Lorraine appeared. Nash approached and introduced himself. She was visibly nervous, though Nash managed to settle her through his customary affable manner. He claimed to work for the police, which seemed to both settle and disquiet her. 

Lorraine confirmed that Lawther had likened the Order to a cult, one that employed dream practices as a means of achieving some elevated state of consciousness. The Order is led by one Clayton McLeland, a colonel in Her Majesty's Army and a Scotsman.

She further stated that Lawther had grown increasingly desperate to leave the Order (this seemed to be at odds with his diary), his anxiety regarding both his sanity and safety mounting considerably. She also suspects a senior figure within the Yard of involvement, citing an improbable number of investigations that have led nowhere. Evidently, The Order "silence those who witness." She was emphatic that she had not hired Langhorne.

Nash instructed Lorraine to remain in her dormitory whilst he retrieved Reggie. Upon their return, Reggie was unequivocal: she must quit London immediately. She protested, citing financial difficulties and the question of where she might go. Our men persuaded her, correctly, that these concerns were now secondary to remaining alive. She relented and was escorted to a train bound for relatives outside the city, with our assurance that we would send word should circumstances improve.

They silence those who witness?

Upon arriving at the Yard the following morning, Reggie was summoned to his superior's office. His inquiries, conducted on his own time as he correctly noted, had generated sufficient consternation that DCS Walker-Peter himself demanded an audience. Reggie's superior pressed him to abandon his investigations and present himself with appropriate contrition.

By Reggie's account, he maintained his composure throughout, which is no small feat given Walker-Peter's reputation. Walker-Peter appeared satisfied that Reggie's attentions would henceforth be directed toward more conventional matters.

I must observe: if there is one characteristic failing of the British establishment, it is our tendency to underestimate those we consider beneath our station. I suspect Walker-Peter felt quite confident a single firm conversation would suffice to redirect an ambitious detective's curiosity. One can only hope that confidence serves our purposes.

Wholesome Literature & Sundries

On my own account, I wished to pursue the academic dimensions of our investigation. Much of Leslie and Lawther's later writing proved genuinely difficult to interpret. Perhaps someone with deeper knowledge of the occult might illuminate matters.

I set out for Wholesome Literature and Sundries in Soho, a name that strikes me as either deeply ironic or profoundly misleading. I have previously obtained certain volumes from here through intermediaries but had not visited in person. I saw no reason for company during daylight hours, even in Soho.

The sign outside was somewhat faded but solidly constructed. A small bell announced my entry. Books occupied every available surface in organized fashion. The air carried that particular fragrance of dust and aged paper that I find agreeable.

After a few minutes, an elderly gentleman of approximately seventy years appeared. His manner suggested customer service was not his primary concern. I engaged his interest by producing the symbols from Lawther's journal. 

The man, who introduced himself as Cornelius Finch, dismissed them immediately. "A modernist's attempt at appearing mysterious and authentic" was his verdict, describing the symbols as an unoriginal amalgamation of mainstream occult influences. His interest sharpened when I shared select passages from the journals, particularly those pertaining to dreams and the entity the Order worships. He stated matter-of-factly that beings capable of transmitting dreams to humans do exist, and are best avoided. I was unsure whether he was pulling my leg or not (though I would not have been so half an hour later). 

Finch then gave me a searching look and asked, directly, whether I would be willing to acquire a broader body of knowledge that might assist my investigations. A foundational framework, he described it, enabling me to interpret such mysteries from first principles. After some consideration, I agreed. His tone made clear this was not casual reading material. I believed him.

He led me to a back room containing two chairs positioned opposite each other, with a glass sphere between them. He asked me to close my eyes and keep them closed until instructed otherwise. I complied. He began muttering in a low, rhythmic cadence. After some time, a peculiar light emanated from the sphere, pressing against my mind in a distinctly unpleasant fashion. I was a moment from abandoning composure entirely when the light receded and Finch instructed me to open my eyes.

I had apparently passed some manner of test. Finch inquired whether I would be willing to meet with similarly inclined individuals monthly. I indicated I would consider it, my thoughts still in some disarray. He produced a volume he described as foundational to understanding the Mythos. Still uncertain as to precisely what I had agreed to, I accepted, surrendered £100 for "The Confessions of the Mad Monk Clithanus" (1674), and made my exit in a state I can only describe as unsettled.

Following some leads

Reggie, naturally, had no intention of curtailing his investigations. He located Langhorne's office, maintained surveillance until the man emerged, then followed him at a discreet distance. To no one's surprise, Langhorne proceeded directly to the Pacific Club. So at least one of our party is now marked as knowing rather too much. One can only hope Reggie's performance before Walker-Peter was sufficiently convincing. The establishment's tendency toward self-assurance has its occasional uses.

Meanwhile, Beckett and Nash applied themselves to research. Nash had formulated a theory, with which I found myself in agreement: that Holcomb's physical holdings might correspond to the pentagram in Lawther's journal. A cross-reference of Holcomb's properties against the map proved largely correct. Four of the five pentagram points aligned with Holcomb holdings. The most accessible proved to be a warehouse in Aldersgate.

Nash was immediately enthusiastic about proceeding at once. Beckett quietly suggested we await the cover of evening. Nash, for some reason, relented. I looked at Beckett with renewed respect - clearly, the youngster respects Beckett in some fashion different from me. 

The warehouse

We dressed inconspicuously (I used my most worn clothes from a competent but unspectacular local seamstress) and rode down to Aldersgate. TWe dressed inconspicuously and made our way to Aldersgate. The warehouse was unremarkable in every external respect. It did, however, present the obstacle of a guard and his dog. We settled upon a straightforward plan: Beckett would create a diversion at the gate whilst Nash scaled the fence and located an entrance, with particular attention to any passages beneath the structure.

Beckett performed admirably, presenting a convincing portrayal of an inebriated laborer with domestic grievances, which occupied the guard's attention until his patience expired. We waited with some tension for what felt like an unreasonable duration, on the verge of more forceful action, when Nash materialized beside us wearing that expression of self-satisfaction he reserves for his more successful exploits.

There was indeed an entrance to tunnels beneath the warehouse, apparently extending considerably further than the building above and corresponding with the pentagram on Lawther's map.

In any event, progress at last!