cooperation from everyone present. There was a chorus of approval to this sentiment, and Mary asked anyone who knew what stories Goldilocks was working on to contact her. No one did. Later on she fielded a call from Jeremy Bearre of the
“It’s a very special honor and one not given lightly,” explained Jeremy. “It bestows protection on the holder from any bear, without question, even unto the Forest.”
“The Forest?”
“When bears die, it is known as ‘returning to the Perpetual Forest.’ The magnificence of that unsullied Forest can be yours, too—but you have to be friendly to bears to find it.”
“That’s very lyrical,” said Mary.
“Forests are like that,” answered Jeremy.
“Oho!” murmured Ashley a few minutes later. He knocked twice on the wall, and Jack emerged shortly after, looking about warily for Briggs.
“What have you got?”
“I just found Angus McGuffin,” said Ash, staring at his monitor, “and he’s in Reading: municipal cemetery plot 100101001-B1001.”
“He’s dead?”
“Killed in a lab accident 10000 years ago,” continued Ashley.
“I’ve got a copy of his death certificate.”
“10000? That’s… sixteen years. 1988. Was he big in cucumbers?”
“No, he was big in physics. He was
“QuangTech,” muttered Jack, “again. What kind of lab accident?”
“A violently explosive one. There weren’t any parts big enough to identify, so the coroner had to pronounce death without a body.”
“How convenient. See if you can’t get a full transcript of the inquest.” He turned to Mary. “Why do you suppose Goldilocks would tell Bartholomew that she’d be meeting a dead man for lunch on Saturday?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“Me neither. Ash, I want you to find out more about McGuffin. In particular his work and the possibility that he’s not dead—and any news of Dorian Gray?”
“None, sir.”
“Keep on it.”
“What now?” asked Mary.
“We retrace her steps. Start at the very beginning.”
“The three bears’ cottage?”
“Earlier.”
21. Driven to Obscurity
Largest unexplained explosion (UK): Unofficial sources credit the sixteen separate explosions at the QuangTech facility in Berkshire between 1984 and 1988 as the largest
“Welcome to Obscurity,” said the Vicar kindly, shaking their hands.
Jack and Mary had arrived at the village—after becoming hopelessly lost—two hours after leaving the NCD offices. The damage to Obscurity was readily apparent before they even reached the village. Fallen trees and hedges blackened by fires guided them the last half mile or so.
“As you can see, not many buildings were spared the damage of that night,” explained the Vicar, waving his arm in the direction of the vicarage. The windows had been boarded up, and blue plastic tarpaulins were draped across the roof. “I’m five hundred yards from Stanley’s house, and this is the result. Would you like some tea and a scone?”
“Maybe later.”
“They’re very good scones.”
“I’m sure they are. But this is a matter of some urgency.”
“Then I’ll show you around.”
They walked past the church, which had lost the top of its steeple and all its windows. The yew in the churchyard had burned where it stood, as had most of the surrounding trees, hedges and crops. This and the blackened texture of the stone walls and buildings gave the whole area a scorched, hell-on-earth look to it.
“Large graveyard,” observed Jack as he peered over the wall.
“You’d be surprised by the number of people who die in Obscurity,” observed the Vicar. “The gravediggers are rarely out of work.”
“What was Stanley Cripps like?” asked Mary.
“Quiet fellow. A brilliant man in his day, I understand—something big in the power industry. After his wife died, he immersed himself in vegetable growing in general and cucumbers in particular; he rarely showed anyone what he was doing, but I was once granted access to his cucumbertorium. This year’s effort was a
“They
“Indeed they do,” replied the Vicar. “He took his vegetables extremely seriously. After almost twenty years of work, it was a very great tragedy that Stanley didn’t live long enough to enjoy the fruits—or should I say
He laughed at his own joke for a moment, noticed that Jack and Mary hadn’t joined him and turned the laugh into a cough.
“Who knew him best? You?”
“I wish I could boast that, but no. As I understand it, he was closest to Mr. Hardy Fuchsia, his old colleague and only serious competitor in the cucumber extreme class. Despite Mr. Fuchsia’s preeminence in the field, I understood they spoke frequently. If you want to know more about Stanley, best call on Hardy.”
“They never found Mr. Cripps, did they?” asked Jack, who had read several accounts of the incident that morning, everything from the official government report to misinformation and half-truths in the self-appointed journal of the conspiracy world,
“They found his dentures embedded in a tree a quarter mile away,” replied the Vicar. “It took a crowbar to get them out. But they don’t think he was wearing them at the time; his bedside lamp was also found close by.”
They walked past another house that had completely lost its roof and was abandoned, ready for demolition. The damage here was considerably worse, even though they had walked less than a hundred yards.
“The
