Bad to Worse Read online

  Anna was frightened. ‘I think we should stop.’

  Walter was already slowing down. She looked around at the desolation.

  ‘How can they see us?’

  ‘Probably from a drone.’

  Turn back now.

  Walter was furious. ‘Who do they think they are? It may be a dirt track, but it’s a state highway. It’s got a number. It’s a public throughway.’

  He began turning the car, under protest.

  ‘Walter. Look.’

  Anna pointed in the direction they had been travelling. Appearing from over a small hill, a vehicle dust cloud was coming toward them at high speed.

  Walter briefly considered trying to outrun them, but remembered his right to be there. They were now facing back to Dante, and had driven half a mile before an SUV in camouflage paint came almost bumper-close to theirs, sounding its horn. Walter slowed and pulled over.

  The other vehicle passed and stopped in front of them. Two men in militia fatigues got out and walked back to them, one on either side. They each rested a hand on a holstered pistol as they approached. It was an arrogant display of threat.

  Anna applied an old lesson in personal security; she placed her smartphone, switched on to voice record, on the gear selector console between the seats. Walter lowered his window, but kept Anna’s closed.

  ‘What’s your business in these parts, sir?’

  ‘What’s your right to ask that, and what’s your right to stop us?’ said Walter.

  Anna was scared, and her natural impulse was to be polite and conciliatory, perfected over years of professional practice dealing with confrontational psychiatric patients, and their families. All the same, she was impressed by Walter’s (typically American, as she saw it) asserting of his rights and challenge to authority. She would have said, ‘We’re tourists. On a daytrip. Is there a problem?’ and smiled.

  The man who spoke scowled. He held out a hand.

  ‘ID.’

  ‘No,’ said Walter. ‘You show me your ID. Then I’ll know what authority you have. That’s the law.’ He added provocatively, ‘You’re not police, are you? Not state troopers. Not federal. What are you? Private security? Dressed up? We’re on a public access road and we’ll drive where we like. Right now we are going to Dante.’

  Anna had always viewed Walter as mild mannered. She was astonished at his reaction. Astonished, scared, and admiring.

  The man stared coldly at Walter.

  ‘Getting back to Dante, you need a serviceable vehicle.’

  He stepped forward and gave the front tyre a kick.

  Just then, Anna saw something profoundly reassuring. A dust plume was speeding towards them from the direction of Dante. The others hadn’t seen it. She looked at the second man, on her side of the car. He was staring at her. She lowered her window.

  ‘But you people would help out if we had any car trouble, wouldn’t you?’

  She spoke lightly, as if there had been nothing disagreeable between them and a charitable act would be a matter of course in that remoteness. The second man made eye contact with the first, then looked at Anna.

  ‘Men take care of themselves in this country, Miss,’ he said.

  That was a ‘No’, and it was also menacing. Anna glanced discreetly forward. The car was approaching very fast, and to her relief she could see flashing red and blue roof lights. She looked at the man beside her, nodded slightly, and raised her window in disapproval.

  Walter at last seemed to understand that they were dealing with borderline criminals, and that civilian rights counted for little in the middle of nowhere. He had become quiet.

  Not until the sheriff’s office patrol car turned on its siren in the last few hundred yards did the militiamen realize it was approaching. They watched as it pulled up close to their own vehicle. The man beside Walter stepped away.

  ‘Make sure you don’t come back.’

  Both walked towards their vehicle with what Anna saw as an exaggerated saunter, and stopped to confer on the way.

  The police officers sat in their car for several minutes, lights still flashing. To Anna the delay was a statement of power. When two men got out, one was carrying a rifle cradled in his elbow, pointed at the ground. He held up a hand to indicate to the militias that they should stay where they were. Then he leaned against their vehicle to watch. The other officer walked up to Walter’s window, tilting his head to look inside.

  ‘Dr Reckles, Dr Camenes. Are you both okay?’

  ‘We’re okay, thanks. Very relieved to see you,’ said Walter.

  ‘I’m Deputy Lloyd. My partner is Deputy Wright. Do you have a complaint against these two?’ He pointed towards them.

  ‘They forced us to stop, harassed us, demanded ID, refused to identify themselves, threatened to disable our car. Yeah, we’ve got plenty of complaints. Especially against that short one.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Leave it with us.’

  Deputy Lloyd walked over to the man who had spoken to Walter. Anna lowered her window to hear the exchange.

  ‘ID.’

  ‘Come on, pal. You see our uniform.’

  ‘I see probable offender. ID.’

  The probable offender was just a little slow in complying. Deputy Wright altered his posture, swinging the rifle to point upwards. The butt now rested on his knee, and his grip was around the trigger guard. It was another exhibition of power, and the short man understood it. He handed over a wallet. Lloyd opened it.

  ‘Why did you pull these people over?’ he asked without looking up.

  ‘They were already stopped.’

  Anna felt an instant frustration that the two would lie their way out. She need not have worried.

  ‘You’re lying, Butt. We monitored your broadcast. That was threatening and coercive and a violation of, maybe, fourteen statutes.’

  Lloyd held out his hand for the other man’s ID. He took both wallets to the patrol car and sat in the driver’s seat with the door open and a leg stretched outside. Deputy Wright stayed leaning against the militia SUV, watching but saying nothing.

  Anna picked up her smartphone and photographed the scene through their windscreen. It would be material for her AR article. A second later, Walter opened his door and the sound caused both militiamen to look towards them. Anna captured their sullen looks when they found Walter grinning broadly.

  ‘Stretching my legs,’ said Walter.

  Anna thought she would do the same. She got out of the car, carrying her smartphone. Walter walked over towards Wright, who motioned him sideways from his field of view.

  ‘You’re Deputy Wright?’ said Walter.

  ‘That’s me, Dr Reckles. How you doin’?’ He was warm but never took his eyes off his charges. Anna joined Walter as he answered.

  ‘Yeah. We’re good, thanks. So, did you know we were out here?’

  ‘Word gets around, Dr Reckles.’

  ‘Say, you know where Area Pi is somewhere near here? We’ve just heard stuff about it,’ continued Walter.

  ‘Bad place. Bad people. Over the rise five miles to Pleno, then north nine.’

  Deputy Lloyd walked up to them. He nodded silently to his partner, who stood up straight and held out a shepherding arm to move Anna and Walter well to the side. Lloyd took a few extra paces and called out.

  ‘Step apart. Face away. Hands in the air.’

  Butt spat at the ground. He looked up to find the rifle now levelled at him, and turned. Lloyd approached them from behind, removing their pistols and putting them down near Wright.

  ‘Hands to back.’ Lloyd handcuffed them both. ‘Sit down.’

  ‘Company’s going to get you for this, you dicks,’ said Butt.

  ‘Company’s going to write you off, more likely,’ said Lloyd.

  He caught sight of Walter looking at his watch. It was 11.00 am.

  ‘Are you good with the time, Dr Reckles?’

  ‘Oh yes. We need to be at the hearing by two,’ Reckles replied.

>   ‘Easily managed,’ said Lloyd. ‘We’ll escort you to the BHEH.’

  Lloyd opened the door of the militia SUV and searched inside. He returned, holding the ignition key.

  ‘Get up.

  You’re under arrest for breach of the peace

  Public nuisance also. You have a right

  To attorney and quiet

  But I’m holding you tight

  Pending further enquiries.

  Back seat. Move it.’

  Trying to stand up from a dusty road while handcuffed behind is an awkward business. Wearing a uniform that projects power one moment and is worthless the next gives added humiliation. Walter was grinning as he and Anna returned to their vehicle.

  ‘I’m loving this place,’ he said as he settled into the driver’s seat. ‘They even arrest you with poetry. Are you happy for me to keep driving?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Anna. ‘Do you think they make that up on the spot, or do they have to learn a whole lot from a manual?’

  She turned off the voice recorder on her mobile. ‘Wait.’ Anna played with some dash controls to record their GPS coordinates.

  ‘Good thinking,’ said Walter. ‘Route 3141 to this point, plus five west plus nine north, if the deputy’s right. I don’t know about the limerick thing. We’ll ask.’

  Thomas Worse chose not to explain that the Dante limerick is a serious poetic form considered by American literary cognoscenti as equal in gravitas and sophistication to the sonnet. It is rarely sexual, unless studiously so, and certainly never ribald. Appearing first in the late nineteenth century, and championed by the scholarly proprietors of the Judgment Daily, it became a preferred mode of private and civic discourse for the county. That the note to Anna was so composed would have been unsurprising to Thomas.

  Visitors to Dante not aware of this tradition are frequently bemused at the limerick’s place in ceremony, legislative wording, and the language of higher education. For example, it is common that marriage vows are so worded, as are welcoming remarks or introductions of dignitaries at public events. Occasionally, academic theses are written and defended, not fully but substantially, in the form. The key to understanding its place in Dante society is to appreciate its broad acceptance as the pinnacle of refinement and respectability. That is not to say it is wholly elitist; verse declaration has become an unremarked utility of the everyday, as Lloyd’s coarsely manufactured statement of arrest shows. (This author is in possession of a notice of parking violation that, were it not for its acquisition cost, would be collectable for its charm.)

  For the world beyond Arizona, the Dante limerick was discovered and popularized by the poet Monica Moreish, notably in her emulative masterpiece Inferno. (This work is credited with elevating the form in national literary consciousness, a task made easier by renaming the limerick as canto.) In her introduction to that volume, Moreish explains how conventions evolved to eschew much of the orthodoxy (such as forced rhyming scheme) of historical variants.

  The reader should not for a moment imagine that the lines delivered to Anna reflect the norm for beauty and erudition. Their relative crudeness would have been noted by Thomas in the natural course of considering possible authorship.

  6 ANNA TO EDVARD TØSSENTERN

  Dear Edvard

  Walter and I have had an absolutely shocking day, though it has been much worse for him than for me. The hearing this afternoon went very badly for him. One member of the board was needlessly aggressive and quite dismissive of everything Walter had to say about the crash, the drone collision and so on. The chair was a last-minute substitute and didn’t really manage things well. He seemed not to listen to reason, as Walter put it. Poor Walter was left feeling devastated. It wasn’t at all what anyone really expected, though Thomas Worse (the chief of police here, and the one related to Richard in Perth) had advised that there might be a bit of argument, but nothing like what happened. After all the unpleasantness, the hearing was adjourned with no date set. I’ve spent the last two hours debriefing Walter and trying to be supportive. Thomas and Walter and I are meeting for a late supper about 10.30 tonight. I think Thomas will be helpful in supporting Walter too.

  This morning was weird as well. Actually, it was extremely scary at one point. We’ve been hearing about a very secretive research establishment of some kind out in the desert. They call it Area Pi, and no one knows what happens there. The locals are frightened of the place. It seems to operate above the law. In fact, they have a kind of private army with uniforms, guns, and military vehicles and whatever. I was given an anonymous tip-off (why me, I don’t know) that it might be relevant to Walter’s crash. Anyway, he and I decided to drive out there. We didn’t see anything special but their security people stopped us and were most threatening. Fortunately, the real police came and rescued us.

  Edvard, I think we need to help Walter. There seems to be a concerted move to disparage his evidence and destroy his reputation. It’s so unfair. Walter is becoming convinced that Area Pi is somehow involved in the drone collision. That does seem feasible, and it is what the anonymous note was implying. I was thinking that Nicholas might be able to get some satellite imagery—he managed to do that for you with the logging business in the Ferendes. It would be a start, considering we can’t get near the place by road, and no one will talk about it. Would you be happy to ask him?

  I hope you are looking after yourself and eating well. I will phone late tonight to catch you at home in the morning. Walter was most interested to hear news about the LDI station. He says he very much enjoyed his stay there. Tell me the latest from the caves project.

  Love Anna.

  7 THE CIRCULAR SEA

  LDI FIELD STATION, SOUTH JOSEPH PLATEAU REPUBLIC OF FERENDES

  The revolution (officially, orderly succession brought forward) that followed the death of Prince Nefari was over, and executive government in Madregalo had largely returned to normal.

  Unhappily for Edvard Tøssentern, as chair of the Cambridge trust running the LDI programme, the Ferende bureaucratic norm slumbered on a scale from indifferent to incompetent. He informed the appropriate departments of the discovery of the caves, their evident anthropologic significance, and the need for a professionally managed survey along with some form of policing to prevent theft and vandalism. Apart from a polite but delayed acknowledgement, administrators had been unresponsive.

  On the basis that the cave complex contained primitive hieroglyphs, Tøssentern decided that the scope of the original charter allowing LDI to operate in the Ferendes gave him a legal basis to proceed with exploration and documentation. He instructed his station manager, Paulo Cinnamonte, to apply whatever time and resources were available to the project. Paulo and Nicholas Misgivingston had made several visits, installed some lighting, and begun preliminary mapping of the cave geography with a photographic record of its wall paintings. Meanwhile, Tøssentern was assembling a multi-institution research team, hoping to include academics from the University of Madregalo who might expedite any necessary approvals within the government.

  Despite their considerable expenditure in time and effort, the programme of study seemed frustratingly slow to Nicholas. Each visit involved a ten-kilometre round-trip hike through dense forest, carrying all their supplies. From the cave entrance to the first chamber was a thirty-minute descent that was not easy, and as yet had no safety railing or foothold supports. That first chamber was vast, and they had not fully explored its boundaries; they certainly knew nothing of its dome ceiling because their lights could not reach it.

  They had, however, discovered the elevated entrance to a tunnel leading from the first chamber to a second that seemed even larger. The passage was difficult, often steep, with blind alleys, side caverns, and at one point a sharp z-bend that was hard to negotiate with bulky equipment. They had been through four times, and found wall paintings near the entrance to the second chamber similar to those in the first.

  It was, of course, those wall paintings that mainly drew their i
nterest. For Tøssentern, who knew as much as anyone living about the graphic symbology of past cultures, these were the most mystifying objects he had ever encountered. They lacked the stylistic primitivism and the subject content of animal figuration or the stencilled human hand that are common in the earliest cave art. But nor was there the precision or character definition and repetition found, for example, in later cuneiform or hieroglyphic scripts.

  These were, for want of a better description, medallions; black foggy disc-shaped patterns on the pale rock, each about thirty to forty centimetres in diameter and arranged, wherever the flatness of the wall allowed, in extraordinarily disciplined matrices of ordered rows and columns.

  When Paulo and Nicholas first discovered them and examined examples closely, they shared an impression that a form of chemical etching was involved in their making. In several, the black contrast was also subtly tinted pink, though ascertaining true colour under torchlight was difficult. The conjecture about method was retracted after more detailed study, replaced by an admission of complete ignorance regarding manufacture and significance. Their bafflement translated into an ad hoc working terminology: the blotchy non-etchings became blotchings, though in serious correspondence with Tøssentern, they remained medallions.

  For researchers in linguistics, there was an irresistible prejudice to interpret these palaeographically. The problem for Paulo and Nicholas, and Tøssentern working from Cambridge, was that the usual strategic pathways led nowhere. A fundamental property of orthographic systems, alphabetic or otherwise, is repetition—no script would ever be rationally devised where every signifier was unique and non-repeating. (To discover such a string by chance, would be a very unfortunate instance of sampling.) It is this property, repetition, that affords a first-pass statistical analysis; namely, a frequency distribution that may be correlated with hierarchical information from other sources.

  However, repetition was not apparent in blotchings. Grossly, medallions were similar to each other, but even under fairly relaxed metrics in discrimination software no two could be judged identical. Moreover, development of appropriate feature recognition algorithms, and investigation of possible classifications based on similarity and difference decision tools, required high-resolution digital reproductions. These they had not yet fully obtained, due to problems with access and lighting.