Chapter Text
Brigadier George LeForth waited while Major-General Newlee finished his telephone call, and looked over the senior officer's desk. On the corner closest to him, in front of a stack of files, were a couple of model tanks; a British Centurion along with a Swedish 'S' tank.
“I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, George,” Newlee told him after finishing the call. “But I had to take it. We need to take you away from the Cybersecurity team for hopefully just a few weeks, for something just as much up your street.”
“Oh, somewhere exotic, sir?”
Newlee laughed. “I'm sorry, you'll be staying in London for this one. It does involve something special, though.”
“Special?”
“Yes. I seem to remember that you have read quite a bit of science fiction.”
“I still do.”
“That's good, it will make it easier to take in some of the things you will be dealing with. We are putting you in charge of a small team planning for what might be described 'unusual threats' to the United Kingdom -this file will give you your briefing.” As Newlee said this he handed George a folder. “I'll introduce you to your team tomorrow afternoon but you will need to attend the Met's Special Assessment Unit to be made 'Falcon' aware in the morning.”
“I've not heard of Falcon before.”
“No, very few people have. It covers all aspects of magic.”
“Magic?” George said after a pause. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, very much so.” Newlee said as he passed a slim red file to George. “This will give you an appreciation, I'll need it back before you leave this evening. You will be meeting DCI Nightingale at the SAU in Russell Square; he is the last official practitioner in the country although he has an apprentice. He is opposed to the military use of magic but he will give you a briefing.”
“Should I wear 'civvies'?”
“Yes, I think that would be in order. A Regimental tie might be appropriate.”
George sat and read through the red file. Its title -'Briefing notes on FALCON'- and security classification 'Top Secret/Cosmic' made it sound like a new weapon or a military operation. In fact it gave an overview of the Special Assessment Unit and its head, DCI Thomas Nightingale, along with his 'apprentice' Peter Grant.
The following morning George dressed in a smart grey pinstripe suit, a white shirt and his blue MOD tie, and then put the folder of briefing notes into his canvas shoulder-bag along with his work smartphone and a few other odds and ends. As he used the Underground to get to the Main Building he normally wore civilian clothes and changed into uniform when he arrived, but today he travelled on to Russell Square. It was a short walk to the building known as 'The Folly' and he self-consciously adjusted his tie before ringing the doorbell. The door was opened straight away by a tall, elegant, grey-haired man wearing a smart three-piece suit.
“Good morning; you must be Brigadier LeForth.” He said.
“I am indeed, sir.” replied George as he shook the proffered hand.
“I am Detective Chief Inspector Nightingale, do come in.”
George followed Nightingale into the building and when they came to a central atrium Nightingale introduced him to the two people standing there.
“Brigadier, this is my assistant Detective Constable Grant, and our housekeeper Molly.”
“Good morning.” George said to both of them. He took in the incongruous trio's appearance; an immaculately dressed elegant man about six foot tall appearing to be in his late forties, a casually dressed young man of Afro-European background who was slightly taller, almost as tall as George but not so broad; and a slender woman -perhaps in her thirties or forties- wearing an Edwardian maid's dress with long black hair half-way down to her waist.
“Brigadier, would you care for some tea?”
“Yes please, that would be very nice.”
“Molly, would you please make some tea for us.”
Molly nodded, and glided out to her kitchen.
“Brigadier, do take a seat.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Is that a Combined Operations tie you are wearing?”
“No, it is the old 'informal' Ministry of Defence emblem.”
Peter took off his jacket and sat on the small sofa, leaving the two armchairs to Peter and George, before speaking.
“Now, magic has been around for a very long time but the first person to really study the field and codify it was Sir Isaac Newton. All of our current spells originate from his work but, as Peter here has done, existing spells can be combined in various ways to produce different effects.”
“I take it that they can be harmful?”
“Oh yes, an impello can be used to push hard or to hit with a blow, and a fireball is just as it sounds; I have rendered a Tiger tank a wreck with one.” Nightingale then gave George a history of magic, although he avoided his involvement in the Second World War.
“Would it be out of place to ask for a demonstration -to move some objects for me?” George asked.
“Not at all -ah, here is our tea.”
Molly had appeared as if out of nowhere with a tray. She placed cups in front of the three men along with some slices of cake.
“Thank you, Molly.” George said. “Ah, some Battenburg, that looks very tempting.”
Molly just nodded and left the room, her black dress swishing behind her.
“What objects did you have in mind?” Nightingale asked.
“These.” George said as he took a selection of large dice from his bag, all of them 30mm across.
Nightingale looked at the dice and picked one up. “Hmm, steel. I think Peter and I can give you a demonstration. Do you have anything electronic with you?”
“I have my mobile and my work smartphone but they are both switched off.”
“You'll need to remove the batteries, magic has nasty effects on solid state electronics that are powered up. Oh, what about your watch?”
“My watch is an old Seiko mechanical self-winder -no batteries to run out at an inconvenient time.” George replied with a smile as he removed the battery from his smartphone he then produced his penknife; selecting the large screwdriver he opened the back of his small yellow-and-black mobile. Peter raised his eyebrows at this before he noticed the rubber seal around the battery cover.
“Ah, Peter and I both have mechanical watches for this very reason.”
Nightingale then lined the dice up at one end of a long wooden table and gestured for Peter to stand at the other end.
“This will be a slightly complex impello, Brigadier, to handle the dice together without jostling them. Are you ready, Peter?”
“I am.”
The line of dice slid along the table and dipped slightly as they passed off the end, before they rose under Peter's control, and gracefully described a slow parabola back to Nightingale. He held them in the air for a moment while George watched them, open-mouthed in amazement. “Catch, Brigadier,” he said before passing them one-by-one to George. George was able to catch each one and place them in turn on the coffee table.
“Was that an adequate demonstration, Brigadier?” Nightingale asked.
“Very much so, thank you. Actually the dice are of different materials although almost the same weights, so I know you haven't used magnets.”
“What are they made of, Brigadier?” Peter asked.
“Well, this one is polished granite, this one is foil-lined wood with a lead core, and these two are aluminium with off centre lead cores. Try rolling them, they are distinctly biased!”
Peter and Nightingale both tried and were soon reduced to laughter by the dice's behaviour.
“I must remember not to play dice games with you, Brigadier!”
“Call me George, please. You warned me that magic can damage electronic equipment, what sort of distance is this over; I mean inches, feet, yards...chains?”
“Well, it does depend on the power of the spell, but I don't think it would affect anything a chain distant. Peter here has been doing some research into these effects.”
“Er, how long is a chain?” Peter asked.
“Twenty two-feet or about seven metres,” George told him, “Ten chains to a furlong, eight furlongs to a mile.”
“Yes, there wouldn't be much effect at that distance. Of course it depends on the strength of the spell as well as what the equipment is made of; integrated circuits suffer more damage than discrete components, and valves seem unaffected.” Peter told him.
“That is interesting, it sounds like a mini EMP then -an electro-magnetic pulse. I think it deserves further investigation.”
“It only affects equipment that is powered up.” Peter added.
“Well, we would be happy to assist you. Now , would you care to see a fireball or two?” Nightingale asked.
“Yes, I would,” George replied, “But surely not in here.”
“No, we have a suitable room downstairs; follow me.”
George followed Nightingale and Peter down to their firing range and watched as each in turn cast a fireball at a target; after the second one, Peter used his 'party trick' water bomb to extinguish the burning embers of the target.
“Very impressive. I like the water bomb, that would be very useful for stopping someone in their tracks without the risk of injuring them. Are you able to control the size of the fireballs? I suppose I am asking if there are standard sizes.” George said, and after a pause he continued, “Is it just me or is there a scent of sandalwood? I thought I smelt it earlier upstairs.”
“There are often smells or sensations connected with spell casting or their casters but normally only practitioners can sense them.” Nightingale told him. “Fireballs of various sizes can be created but there isn't the equivalent of, say, a 'number 3' fireball. Has this demonstration been of help to you?”
“Yes it has. I understand your reticence to get involved with the military; from my point of view we just need to understand the possible threats to the United Kingdom and work out ways of protecting the population.”
“You know about Ettesburg and the Black Archive then?” Nightingale started to walk back to the Atrium and George followed him.
“Only that its retrieval was done at a great cost of life. I understand you have the Archive in a secure place.”
“I do,” Nightingale replied, his face and voice becoming stern. “But I will not let you or anyone else see it.”
“My apologies, sir. I am not seeking access to it, I am just surprised you didn't destroy it given its background.” George said as they started to walk back to the atrium.
Nightingale's expression softened. “Unfortunately the documents themselves have themselves become magic in an unpleasant way, and trying to destroy them would have serious...shall we say 'fall-out'”.
“I see. I am put in mind of the scene at the end of the first Indiana Jones film where the Ark is being wheeled into a vast repository, with the implication that no-one will ever find it.” The two men stopped in the corridor.
“Yes, that is a good metaphor. The Germans had followed up the work that the Vikings had done, harnessing the power of a dying animal to 'power' a booby trap, except they used human beings.”
“The horrors of man's inhumanity to man.” George said. He paused for a moment before continuing. “I have seen film of the nerve gas tests they carried out on concentration camp inmates.” They looked at each other contemplating the horrors of the concentration camps, before completing their return.
By the time they had reached the atrium Molly had refilled the tea cups. As they sat down Nightingale continued, “You should also know that there are two other sorts of occupants of this country that have abilities in the magical field. First are the Fae who are not really human; they keep largely to themselves and will not normally interfere with us, but there are also the Genius Loci, they are the spirits associated with natural things; for example there are two for the river Thames. Father Thames gets his power from the river above Teddington weir and Ma Thames below. They have normal human form and do interact with our world and deserve our respect.”
George drank some of his tea before replying. “There is a small stream at the bottom of my garden which flows into the Thames. I feel even more glad now that I regularly fish rubbish out of it!”
“If it has a Genius Loci then it will appreciate your actions, but I can't promise it will necessarily have noticed.”
“Can anyone learn how to cast spells or does it take an innate ability?”
“Well some people take to it better, there were practitioners in my family but young Peter has none, he has just learnt from my teaching.”
“I see, thank you for taking the time to explain this to me. I might need to contact you, could you you let me have your phone numbers?”
“Yes of course.” Nightingale fished a business card out of his waistcoat pocket. “You can use either of our mobile numbers; if you want to use e-mail then I would suggest you use Peter's as he is always checking it.”
“Thank you.”
Peter watched George put the batteries back in his phones. “Is your phone something special? It looks as if it is made by JCB.”
“Sort of, it is a rugged phone but a cheap version I picked up in an Aldi store; it is supposed to be waterproof and shock resistant and it has certainly survived me handling it roughly for four years.” He turned back to Nightingale, “Could you thank Molly for the excellent Battenburg, I've never tasted one with such delicate lemon and cherry sponge before!”
“I will certainly pass on your thanks, she does like her cooking to be appreciated.”
After George had left Nightingale turned to Peter. “Could you spend a little time to see if you can produce one or more standard sizes of fireball for the Brigadier, I suspect he will want to test the effects on electronic equipment. We must make sure he gives you a copy of any results if he does so, it will probably help in the research you are doing.”
“I will. Did he sense your signare? I thought only practitioners could do that, or someone with their own magic.”
“Now that, Peter, is an interesting question. It may be that he can sense magic users in the same way that the Genius Loci can, as you know with the friendly chats you have had with Lady Ty. I think I shall investigate his background, he may turn out to be a natural.”