Tick.. tick.. tick....

Erik and Otto swiftly raised the alarm and informed Frank. Thankfully, Frank’s war-training kicked in as not only was there a bomb on the Silver Sable, but we hit a great bout of turbulence just at the same time. We rapidly discovered the bomb was beneath the seat, but did not seem connected to the chair above it or the floor below it. I had training for this with The Bureau, of course, but never in situ on a plane before, and certainly not in-flight, so it was time to improvise. Howard opened the door to the outside and (bravely? stupidly? madly?) clutching the bomb I walked partway, then crawled the rest of the way on my knees, one eye to what we could only assume was the clock, counting down.

I held out as long as I could, fearing the bomb would blow up some poor, unsuspecting civilian’s house or car if it were allowed to reach the ground, at last I tipped it over the side of the plane, then fell back within clutching on for dear life. The explosion blew the plane slightly off-course, but Frank – my hero – had faced worse and recovered brilliantly. It’s a very good thing we were separated by the cockpit, or I expect I’d have kissed him!

…

It wasn’t long before the guilt overcame me. The one loose end we hadn’t covered – the plane. The one tie to our previous visit. We had been so careful! It had occurred to me to move the plane, but that was weeks ago, and everything is always so busy, I admit the thought was soon far whisked from my mind. And here Frank, all of us, nearly paid for the mistake with our lives. It was in that first moment of regret I knew I had to make some changes. Good agents don’t make mistakes, not like that. And this has all gotten so far away from my training, my career, my good sense….

I drafted the letter of resignation that night, after a long soak in the bath. It sat on my hotel desk the rest of the evening.. staring at me. So much has changed, and more change was coming. I hoped for the better, but I feared for the worst.

Poor Quincy. There won’t be a body to bury, unless it’s unearthed one day from that basement wall. He’s just vanished, gone from this earth, and… one can only hope, gone for good. Otherwise he’s gone to, well, wherever these creatures come from. If any of this really exists, and I haven’t just lost my wits completely. Could this all just be some dark and terrible dream? Perhaps I’m laying in a coma somewhere, and this is what it’s like to drift through one’s subconscious, lost and waiting.

The second letter was far more difficult. I wrote several versions before I settled on this, pages and pages, baring my soul, what I’ve learned, and my fears. In the end, the version I folded up and placed in the envelope barely contained any of the details I wanted to write, but some part of me wants to spare George the darkness we’re facing. He’s been through so much.. the war, losing a son…. This last version feels like a lie, not saying just how close I’ve come to breaking with all reality, and becoming Sally forever…. Wouldn’t that be a thing. From Agent to aspiring actress. Would Sally have a better life?

My Dearest Friend, Mr George Sullivan,

I’ am afraid I shant be returning to Virginia soon, as my phone calls so often promised of late. I miss you more than words can say, your company and your guidance, but alas it just has not been in the cards much as I might desire it to be so.

There have been some victories and some setbacks, I’m afraid. We lost a good man to the struggle, but we managed to set some things right in California – perhaps temporarily, but I do hope it shall last. There is great evil in the world, George.. more than we ever knew. Perhaps one day I shall be able to tell you more, in person, but then again some things are best left unspoken. I do hope, for my part, to have done some good, and to continue to do so.

It isn’t all bad news, as I am soon to book passage to Europe. I hope there to have a much needed rest, and perhaps even enjoy a bit of tourism. I will be sure to telephone when I am settled, in a few weeks’ time.

Sincerely,

Mrs Grace Sullivan

P.S. As I do not expect to return home anytime soon, I have submitted my resignation to The Bureau. It is the only way, really, and not fair to ask one’s employer to hold one’s job indefinitely. Perhaps I shall enjoy a change of career if, well, when I return. There may be better ways I can utilize my new expertise.

I had a second glass of wine and tried to sleep, but it eludes me of late. I fall asleep well enough, but just drift through dreams and wake frequently. I think a part of me is afraid I won’t wake up.. and then there are the tears.. the ones I can’t let fall during the day, and especially not in front of the others. They teach you in training to let them fall, in private, that it’s good to experience the release. Even the male agents are encouraged to cry if they’re able, although they seem to prefer .. other methods of release, shall we say. There’s nothing like a good old-fashioned cry, though, and I do quite a bit of that lately, whether I like it or not.

But then the night is over and I do so love the morning. Everything is fresh and new, the clothes the coffee, and that is one thing which hasn’t changed for me, even if I have to set aside the reality of what we’re facing just for an hour. I find, though I preferred white in my wardrobe before, I find it mandatory now. Something crisp and white every single day, even if it’s just my coat or shoes, to remind me that not all the world is dark.

I made two phone calls the next morning. As usual, I failed to reach Chastity. Which is for the best really, as I didn’t know whether I should mention to her about Quincy. The other was to Janet Winston-Rodgers; her assistant, Richard, set up an appointment for us the next day. I sent a telegram to Chasity instead, informing her we were headed to London, and would meet her at the bookstore she spoke of with such reverence, in 10-12 days time. It will be good to see a friendly face, and I do so hope she’s been able to dredge up something in that shop of hers which might be of some help.

I understand Howard tracked down Father O’Brien. Its comforting to know that at least someone out there knows Quincy won’t be coming home, and that he gave his all for what is right and good. Mr Tillingford never ceases to surprise me. I suppose he was there when it happened, the only witness who will remember, or care. I never thought when we were introduced to our native guide in Africa, that he would be with us today in New York. A good man, and one I would call a friend, possibly the best of us.

We met with Janet this afternoon, after a drive of many hours in the car she sent for us. I drifted off a few times, and could not say just how far we drove outside of New York City, nor who owned the old-fashioned manor in which she greeted us. We found her somewhat changed on the subject, perhaps from the conversation she no doubt had with Frank before our arrival. We found her both encouraging and understanding, and agreed we would continue with her kind assistance. I admit, particularly having resigned from my employment, her financial backing would be crucial to our success.

She agreed, further, to fund Job’s treatments at Joy Grove, and with her assistant, Richard’s assistance, we were able to confirm his presence there, which came as great relief. I do not know when we will next be free to visit Savannah, but I for one look forward to conversing again with Edgar Job, for better or worse. I agree with Erik that we still have much to learn from Echavarria’s “special” interest.

Richard, further, has agreed to investigate Vincent Stack’s next of kin, using the information that he once held a PI license in New Jersey as a start. We have little information on the remaining two members of the original investigating team, but perhaps some member of Mr Stack’s employment or family might have an old journal or other notes which may prove of assistance. It would be nice to go to Thailand with some information on not only how to seek out “the maw” but how to destroy one as well, so no stone should go unturned.

Janet kindly put us up for the night after the long drive and heavy conversation. Howard seemed relieved to be outside the confines of the big city, and on our return Otto insisted we move hotels. I know I am not the only one suffering from what we have experienced, and it will be a great relief to reach London and find comfort, safety, rest… and probably even some professional help.

Our patroness had booked us passage on a ship in only two days’ time, and so we readied ourselves for travel. I sought a bookstore and some mindless “ladies” reading, hoping to distract my mind from the constant analyzation of our situation, although I admit I felt utterly ridiculous asking for recommendations and making my selection. I should probably have let Sally choose for me, and spared myself the humiliation. I found myself wondering whether I could choose to turn it on and off, but soon shook off the inclination.

I did a little shopping to replace the things I had abandoned in California, enjoyed some fine dining, and tried to think as little as possible about the case. I still haven’t slept well in days, and I find it quite taxing. But every time I close my eyes, there are teeth, and tongues….

Soon enough we found ourselves once more on a luxury liner bound for Southampton. I continued to enjoy dining, walks, and even the reading (although I’ll never admit it.. perhaps Sally is taking over my emotions as well as my senses). There was one night, walking back to my stateroom from yet another dinner where we all tried to pretend all was well, when I thought I saw something in the water… something big, bulbous even, and white, which made me shudder and raise the goosepimples on my arms.. but of course, it must have been a whale. Mustn’t it?

April 25th, 1935 (Thursday)

We have arrived in England. There was much fuss and transport by train and cab from the dock to London, where we stayed in Howard’s Sloan Square apartment the first night. He had never mentioned a moneyed family previously. Then again, I had never thought to ask who his family was or where they came from. Of course, we usually had more difficult matters to discuss.

But when he brought up the subject over our last dinner onboard, I was embarrassed and guilty at my negligence. Never before would I have spent so much time in a person’s company, a person I hoped to call a friend, without genuinely making more of an effort to get to know them. Well, we will hopefully have far more time in each others’ company over the next few months, so time to change all that.

April 26th, 1935 (Friday)

We investigated Morley’s bookshop that afternoon, only to find it boarded up and abandoned. An inquiry with shopkeepers Geoffrey and Maureen the next door down revealed much. Chastity and Mr Morley, apparently, packed up three months previously. The evening before there were reports of gunfire, a real “to-do” (as they put it), and neither Mr Morley nor Chastity (who were living above the shop) haven’t been seen since.

Unfortunately, much else of what happened in the shop is a blur, as I seem to have had another “Sally incident” as I’m now referring to my lapses. My associates have been very kind about it, but it is very good we’re soon to begin treatment. Much as I know we would each love to jump into the case of finding out where Chastity is and what happened to chase them away, I think we are in silent agreement that we really need to regain some perspective and a bit of grip on reality before we should investigate anything, really.

Within a few days, Otto acquired the services of a Dr Charles Greenley, and experienced but young doctor in his late 30s, who was both intrigued by our case and enthusiastic to be of assistance to us. We have shifted our base to a cottage in Devon, Howard again preferring to be away from the confines of a city. I admit I found the distance a bit daunting at first, being a city girl myself, but I am learning to enjoy the comforts of the country – a long walk, the fresh air. The good doctor comes to stay with us for a few days each week, and we have begun to confide in him what we’ve learned and experienced.