Case of the Bedevilled Poet by Simon Clark

Author:Simon Clark [Clark, Simon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781910935477
Publisher: NewCon Press
Published: 2017-06-18T22:00:00+00:00

8. A Weapon Sharper and More Certain than St. George’s Lance

Jack Crofton moved in a daze, as if sleep walking. Sherlock Holmes and Bill Tulley guided him through the parklands in front of Alexander Palace. There, a huge crater, formed by the V1 plunging into the earth just minutes ago, still gave off steam. A pungent smell of burning prickled the inside of Jack’s nose. Glittering fragments of the flying bomb littered the grass. Trees had been stripped of both bark and branches by the titanic blast. Jack knew that the pilotless craft, launched from those parts of Western Europe still under Nazi rule, were devastating weapons. He’d seen the aftermath of such a strike in Hounslow. The huge warhead exploded in what is termed ‘the double hammer blow’ – first, the blast-wave struck the nearest buildings, smashing inwards with such force that victims were thrown against inner walls with pulverising violence. After that, the blast rushed by creating a vacuum: the injured and dead occupants of the building were then sucked out through shattered windows into gardens and roads like dolls thrown by a bad-tempered child.

“You saved lives,” Bill said as they walked past the crater, which smelt strongly of wet soil. “If the V1 had hit the street full of houses….” Completing the sentence was as unnecessary as forensically describing rubble strewn gardens containing mangled corpses.

Jack sucked in the cold night air, trying to clear the fog from his mind. “How could I make the machine crash where nobody would be hurt?”

Holmes said, “Due to something that the psychologist Carl Jung terms the Daemon – an inner personality that is wise and guides us. Daemon is at its most dynamic and inventive in times of crisis. We all carry that extraordinary component within our heads.”

“Divine inspiration,” Bill added.

Holmes shook his head. “Not divine. As natural as the fingers on your hands.”

Jack’s head began to clear. “You mentioned Rowena. How can she help me?”

“She did earlier, or rather the mental image you have of her.”

“A guardian angel.” This time Bill glared at Holmes, daring to contradict him.

“A guardian angel?” Holmes smiled. “Why not think of her thus? If that strengthens us in our battle against this wicked impulse that Freud called the Death Drive, then why not?”

Jack felt his strength returning, together with a growing determination to fight the monster nestled between his ears. “People in the office were saying that the hospital was going to discharge Rowena this afternoon. She’s probably at home.”

Holmes digested the information. “You know her address.”

“Yes.”

“Then guide us there, Jack. I suspect that the final battle between you and that personal monster of yours is getting close now. Very close.”

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