The Third Redux: Jake Nourth, #3

By Al Onia

Jake Nourth hunts for a missing topologist. Finding the academic is only the beginning of the latest weird in Meld as the city holds its own deepening secrets. Supported by official sanction, the Throat Cult gains strength and purpose. A mysterious sculpture under the cult's protection may hold the key to the scientist's disappearance and the danger facing Jake's city.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Al Onia
• Release date: Aug 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201487164

Al Onia

Al Onia lives on Vancouver Island with his wife Sandra. Take Your Best Shot is his ninth published novel. Read more at: ajonia.com

Book preview

Chapter 1

FOR JAKE NOURTH, THE Iron Building's fourth floor was even less inviting at midnight than it was during daylight hours. He'd retired from the fifth or 'Eye' floor two and a half years ago yet here he was. Dragged back by obligation.

I hate unfinished business, he muttered.

He glanced at the ceiling. The sixth and seventh floors had disappeared a decade prior when a topological experiment had gone wrong. The missing storeys had been discovered within the past year buried under Meld's abandoned tram station. Jake couldn't recall if the wayward experiment had occurred at night but it seemed appropriate to have misgivings around the possibility of more spookshit going down after sunset.

Occasional ally, friend and newly-promoted Inspector Ivor Sprung dug an elbow into Jake's ribs. If you can't keep still, including your mouth, Nourth, then go upstairs and haunt your old offices.

The third member of their party, the initiator, signalled them both for silence. Soulchemist Cleo Purdy still occupied the scarred block's third floor with her fellow Category practioners.

The knife wound she'd once patched for Jake still itched on hot days. In return, he'd saved her sanity. They were bonded. Tempted but not-to-be lovers, Jake's passion firmly centered upon his wife. Elsidore Nourth's collapse on the roof here half a year prior still angered him and the man behind it all, Sackett, couldn't serve enough time behind bars as far as Jake was concerned. This night's vigil was for Elsidore as much as for Purdy.

Jake stretched his stiff body from side to side to restore a vestige of circulation. His brandy had run out an hour ago and now he had to pee.

He would not haunt the fifth floor as Sprung suggested. The entire edifice haunted him—from his final days in harness as a Conspiratorial Investigator, battling a fellow Eye-turned-bad, to the more recent crimes perpetrated by the former tenants of this floor.

The Audiophiles' assault on Meld's administrators and politicians had turned his city into a chaotic hospital zone. If Purdy was right, their Category excommunication apparently hadn't stopped one or more of them from returning to their lair.

Purdy had recruited him and Sprung to witness the ongoing theft of audiophile equipment not yet cataloged as part of the guild's expulsion from legitimate practice. The Soulchemists and second-floor Artists were tagged with the responsibility to inventory and pack up the equipment or use it for their own purposes. According to Purdy, someone was trying to beat them to it.

Jake distracted himself with speculation regarding the equipment. He'd seen his share of weird mechanisms during and after his Eye days. Law Fomalhaut's helices, Purdy's whisker device and the audiophiles' parabolic subsonic sound generator were the manmade ones. Nature's puzzle overriding them all was the Throat. His stomach churned at the thought of it twisting reality, assaulting his guts and performing the cjble uplift, its most amazing trick of all.

A scrape in the outer hall sharpened Jake's awareness. The doorknob rattled a faint metallic click. He put a hand on Purdy's arm and felt her stiffen. She mouthed It's them and crouched. Jake and Sprung did the same.

The door opened fully and a stooped figure entered the restricted laboratory. A penlight oval lit the floor and swept toward the stack of equipment the trio guarded. The light moved forward. Jake's investigator mode triggered automatically. He estimated height from the level of the penlight and weight from the footfall tread. A small person or adolescent. There was something else. A faint odor. He recognized it but couldn't place it. Smell should be a stronger memory trigger he thought as the three of them stood.

The intruder lifted the tarp by a corner and slipped underneath. The trigger connected. Jake revised his course of action. He pushed Purdy and Sprung back down and whispered. I know who it is. Let her leave and I'll follow her.

Her? Who? whispered Sprung.

No mastermind, that's certain, said Jake. A pawn. One he thought he'd saved.

The intruder continued to rustle under the cover and Jake made his break for the door. Alert for a lookout, he paused at the stairwell. No one lurked below. He crept down, sticking to the outside of the steps where the creaks were minimal. A stringed instrument played behind the doors to the second floor Artist quarters as he passed. Their hours were the most predictable in their unpredictability. The tuneless refrain repeated in his brain as he stepped into the alley behind the Iron Building. His eyes were well-adapted to the dark but he saw no sign of accomplices. The intruder should appear soon.

Jake donned his hat and moved closer to the street, his vision sweeping the opposite buildings for another conspirator. The discordant music was louder under an open window at the corner.

His quarry exited the front door, carrying a small bundle under one arm. To a casual eye, nothing appeared extraordinary, other than the time of night. He would allow her a good lead before beginning his trail.

The music rose suddenly in mid-bar. He looked up then was hit in the back of the neck. Jake Nourth was unconscious as he fell face down in the alley's muck.

Chapter 2

12 HOURS BEFORE

The Topology Building fascinated and disturbed Jake. As Meld University Security Chief, his weekly visits to various campus faculties involved routine checks on each complex from the liberal arts to the sciences. Topology fell somewhere in between art and science. A grey area defined by non-concrete definition. The topologists experimented with physics on one hand and transmutation on the other. Self-designated alchemists of supra-three-dimensional space, they twisted conventional width, breadth and height into dazzlingly counter-intuitive pathways. Jake avoided their shortcuts when possible though he marvelled at the use.

He walked along the main corridor. At least the topologists honored straight lines within their public areas. What went on in their labs, he preferred to learn second-hand, if at all, and only by necessity.

The faculty office was a hub of activity and apparent visitors. Jake pushed his way through half-a-dozen students clutching clipboards and filling in forms. He sought Dean Ixon's attention. Behind the counter the tall, thin, stern-faced woman in her early forties didn't look like someone whose feet weren't grounded in the world non-topologists traversed daily. If passed on the street or introduced at a University function, Jake would have guessed a chemistry or business professor. He liked Ixon, more than her field of expertise.

Nourth, she called. Come through.

Ixon waved him past the throng, leaving her assistants to deal with them. Inside her office, she invited him to sit in one of three bizarre-looking chairs which contradicted his known forms of sitting. Never a believer in 'watch this', 'hold my drink, I'm going to try something', or 'I love new experiences', Jake reluctantly followed her lead and inserted himself into the awkward chair. He hooked his legs around the corkscrew horns and reclined.

This is actually quite comfortable, he said. I retract ten percent of what I've said about topologists and their shape-magics. He wriggled to get his arms set. I'm not going to end up on the Barcad docks if I squint the wrong way, am I?

That branch of topology is for the lunatic fringe, Nourth. Under my watch, this faculty concentrates on reconfiguring the norm, not skipping dimensional barriers. We leave that to the Category Topologists.

I know a couple. Arcady and Amady Tenten. Have you heard of them?

She frowned, then recovered her smile. I have. We cross paths occasionally, exchanging information. I let them twist space in their small, entertaining ways while the University concentrates on changing the way our students observe their environment and try to enhance our interface with it.

Yeah, well I'll respond once I've experienced how easy it is to extract myself from this interface. Jake pulled on one of the chair's arms and was rewarded with a panoramic spin. Cool. He returned to face Dr. Ixon. Why did you call me? Not to endorse this chair, right?

Linked reasons, Mr. Nourth. One in your security capacity with the University and one in your history with the recent discovery of the Iron Building's missing floors.

I hope it's more related to the former. I have nightmares about waking up underground on the seventh floor. I have little interest in reminiscing about my time there. I'm not one of the many, like those outside, hungering to study it. The fear that those two floors haven't found their final resting place is enough incentive to keep me far away. University business or not.

You're correct. The academic fever surrounding the discovery continues. The initial disappearance was a dark enough day to suit academic and private topologists alike. But I think you overestimate the risk in its potentially ephemeral location.

Have you spent much time there?

I visited once. To understand what my new recruits would face during their study. Ixon's lip twitched.

Didn't it tweak your guts? Set off a primal alarm somewhere in the deepest brainstem root? Jake had visited it once more after his incarceration there by the rogue audiophile Sackett. The discomfort was more than the memory of being a prisoner, the place spooked him almost as much as the Throat.

"I'm a scientist, not a medium, said Ixon. Nevertheless, I felt it important to appoint one of my junior professors to take charge of the significant influx of students from across Twist and off-planet academics. I believe you know Reay Bell?"

We've met. Bell had filled Jake in on the physics department's research and failures a few years before. I didn't know he changed faculties. He was a physicist.

Bell pursued a dual career until he found his true passion. And I don't think he and Dean Agarwal got along.

Quite the polymath. Bell's experienced more of the University than most his age. Was he a good choice?

I thought so at first because of his interdisciplinary background. She tapped her fingers on the chair.

But? Please get to the point, Dean. I've more work than I can handle running background checks on the hordes invading Meld to satisfy their interest in the topological breakthrough. And the cjble uplift. And Cleo Purdy's silent studies of cjble telepathy. And Law Fomalhaut's mind-bending explanations on the universe's origin, development, and ultimate fate.

I didn't realize... Ixon nodded. My faculty is only one of many growing exponentially.

I repeat, but...

Bell's work here was pedestrian. His lectures are rambling, incoherent rants far removed from our syllabus.

Rants about what, specifically?

"Nothing specific. The Throat. The undeserving cjbles. His description, not mine. Meld's morphology mapping the way to an elevated future, a human uplift. I considered removing his title but I haven't acted. Other priorities got in the way. Now he's disappeared."

Like vanished in a puff of topology smoke? Or missing as in he didn't show up for class? Bell could have walked through a topologic portal and reappeared in the wrong spot. Taken a longcut. Still making his way back.

Not shown up for class since Monday.

Jake counted. Three days. Not a long time.

Long enough for concern, said the dean. I value my faculty and students.

Jake flipped open his notebook. Who saw him last? Where, when and with whom?

Ixon checked her own notes and passed them to Jake. It's here. Bell's final lecture ended Monday afternoon at three. He often has early supper in the student lounge before dropping in on the evening's labs.

Jake knew Bell liked a refreshing malt beverage or four in his daily routine so he wouldn't miss the supper hour unless something more important interfered. No one saw him eat?

Ixon shook her head. He was one of the first out the classroom door, according to his teaching assistant.

Jake ran his finger down Ixon's notes. Jermy Wylie. I know him well. Jermy had also assisted Jake's wife Elsidore in her research. When was Bell's absence first noticed? Nothing in her notes about that.

Next day a few students complained he hadn't shown up for lecture and there was no notice on the door. We weren't notified and my secretary couldn't reach him.

Not unusual, said Jake. The phone system across Meld has been consistently inconsistent for the past month. Too bad the cjbles are no longer available as couriers.

I haven't sent anyone to Bell's apartment. His address is in my notes.

Jake found it but didn't recognize the location. I'll visit. What was he working on outside his teaching duties?

The discovery of the Iron Building's floors under the old station has garnered most of our attention but Bell was looking further afield at spatial links outside Meld.

The Throat? Dean Agarwal has closed all access, University staff included, until the safety margin improves.

We're working with the physics department to bring accessibility back on line but no, Bell shouldn't have been there. Ixon hesitated. Not as far as I know.

Cross that spooky place off the list. Jake wouldn't willingly visit the Throat again. Ever.

If not there, then that leaves Common Grounds and Quarrage. Unless there's another link I don't know about.

The two were linked to the Throat but on the opposite side of the uplands surrounding Meld. Quarrage housed the reclusive but brilliant, in Jake's estimation, Law Fomalhaut, a cosmologist digging into the universe's secrets. Searching for the missing dark matter and revealing the association with dark energy. Common Grounds was the cjble habitation beside Quarrage which served as their home since migrating from Meld. It also provided a human intrusion buffer for Fomalhaut.

Quarrage was one focus. My last discussion with Bell wasn't encouraging and I held small hope he'd make progress with Law Fomalhaut. I recommended he focus on a new line of investigation.

Maybe Bell agreed and is secluded while he formulates a new line of study.

I hope so. She glanced at her watch. Any further questions? I'm afraid I'm late for my own lecture.

You teach as well?

Ixon nodded. The faculty growth hasn't kept pace with student enrollment. We're stretched thin, Mr. Nourth. Please find Bell. Despite his growing idiosyncrasies, it wouldn't be fair to his students to miss out a term. I have no one to fill in.

What about Jermy Wylie and the other teaching assistants? Couldn't they follow the curriculum?

Already in the works but the Regents don't always agree with emergency strategies. Ixon stood. Bell's a colleague, a friend and a member of the University. We can't afford to be without him for much longer.

Understood. Jake made his way to the door, close enough to hear the conversational buzz outside. I'll start with the campus lounges, then visit his home.

Jermy Wylie waited for Jake outside the office's hubbub.

You here regarding Bell, Mr. Nourth?

You can call me Jake. Let's walk. They left the noise behind in a small courtyard in the center of the building. What do you know besides this? Jake passed his notes from meeting Ixon to Jermy.

After a scan. Nothing I can add to the facts.

Talk to me about his state of mind, then? Stable, crazy, eccentric, absent-minded? Could Bell have just forgotten his obligations?

Jermy passed the notes back. Past eccentric, I'd say. He might be close to fanaticism about the Throat. Bell was passionate about trying to link Meld's quirks.

I wouldn't categorize the Throat as a 'quirk'.

To Bell it was. Awed by it, perhaps, but not overwhelmed. He tried to break anomalies down into simple components, then look at how the components interact with other quirks.

Interesting in its way but it doesn't help me.

Sorry, Jake. I wish I could help. I liked Bell when he was sober. Jermy stood. I have to supervise a lab. Ixon's got me running 18-hour days.

If you think or hear of anything more, let me know.

Jake exited the Topology Building and headed toward the History Complex to alert Elsidore where he'd be. Before he finished crossing the Quad, he saw his wife walking toward him.

Hi, he said. Pleasant coincidence. He hugged her.

No coincidence, this is for you. She passed a paper slip.

Urgent. Need your help. Purdy. Meet me at police headquarters. Five o'clock.

I was going to tell you I'd be prowling the campus pubs for a missing professor but I guess this takes precedence. I'll stay in touch if I can.

I'd be worried if she'd asked you to rendezvous anywhere but the police station. She tapped the note. Sprung's an acceptable chaperone.

Old news, he said. He wished Purdy had continued her relationship with his friend Konstine. The Harbor Master had left Meld three months ago on a solo sailing expedition in homage to his forefathers. Jake didn't need Elsidore even thinking Purdy was unattached. To him, the soulchemist was, and remained, a friend only. But he feared his wife would always harbor a doubt.

I REALIZE I'M ON THE enforcement side here but holding this hearing before the convicted prisoner has been transferred to Mous'ole to serve his sentence must contravene some law. Dr. Sackett nearly drove our city to social and psychological ruin. The petition to parole him and reduce his conviction to time served is highly irregular. And offensive to the police effort which brought the terror to an end. Inspector Ivor Sprung finished his statement and returned to his seat before the parole committee.

We appreciate your input, Inspector. As you stated, you represent enforcement, not the judicial branch. Meld's Mayor Chensee and committee chair scowled through his ancient-looking glasses. I might also remind the Inspector that his recent promotion is provisional. Our way of saying 'thanks' for bringing the matter to a successful closure. Such a promotion so near your retirement for pension upgrade is also irregular.

Sackett, the hearing's subject and disgraced audiophile sat with his counsel. A smirk creased the doctor's lips. Sprung realized the prisoner knew where this was