Nick Pollotta - That Darn Squid God

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That Darn Squid God

by Nick Pollotta and James Clay

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Wildside Press

www.wildsidepress.com

Fantasy/Humor

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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Duplication or

distribution of this work by email, floppy disk, network, paper print out, or any other method is a

violation of international copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment.

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_A section of this novel was originally published as the short story, "Turnabout."_

A publication of

Wildside Press

P.O. Box 301

Holicong, PA 18928-0301

www.wildsidepress.com

Cover art by Fastner & Larson

No portion of this book may be reproduced by any means, electronic or otherwise, without first

obtaining the written consent of the author. For more information, contact: www.NickPollotta.com

ISBN: 1-59224-097-6

First Wildside Press edition: 2004

* * * *

*DEDICATION*

_To our wives._

And a very special thanks to Nick's sister,

Kathi Somers who proofread the novel.

Any mistakes still found are entirely my own.

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*ONE*

Swirling fog ruled the London night.

Stepping from a horse-drawn carriage into the thick mist, Professor Felix Einstein paused on the

pavement, briefly consulting the small glass globe in his hand. Trapped in the middle of the crystalline

sphere was a mummified Egyptian tarantula that remained motionless under his hard scrutiny, and the

professor relaxed at the sign that there was no evil magic in the immediate vicinity. At least, for the

moment.

Satisfied for the nonce, Prof. Einstein tucked the talisman away once more into his great coat.

Dressed like a Bow Street banker, Einstein was sporting an Inverness cape over his gray-striped suit and

Oxford school tie, with the mandatory small porridge stain. His craggy face was deeply tanned, and the

silver highlights in his wavy hair almost perfectly matched the silver lion head of his ebony walking cane.

The inner pocket of his coat bulged with an Adams .32 revolver and looped across his waistcoat was a

gold watch chain with a petrified shark tooth dangling at the end as a fob. Jutting from a pocket of his

vest was an embossed case containing numerous calling cards that merely listed his name, address, and a

few dozen of his titles. His real profession was not among them.

Starting to address the waiting cabby, Prof. Einstein frowned as he caught a gale of merriment

coming from the nearby building. Eh? In the expert opinion of the professor, a tribe of Zulu warriors

performing the Mexican hat dance could not have been more incongruous than the loud laughter, which

came from the ground floor windows of the five-story brownstone building dominating the block.

In the past few weeks, Einstein had noticed that the weather patterns of the entire world were

steadily becoming worse; snow in Egypt, tornadoes in the Amazon jungle, bright sunshine in Liverpool,

and such. Yet those were merely side effects of the coming apocalypse.

_So who could possibly be laughing at such a dire time as this?_ the professor demanded irritably.

_Surely not my fellow club members! Maybe the fog was distorting the noise of some distant party so

that it seemed nearby? Yes, of course, that must be the answer. How obvious._

"Best stay sharp, Davis," Prof. Einstein said, reaching upward to shake hands with the burly driver.

The complicated procedure took a few moments as thumbs, fists, knuckles, tickling and slapping were

involved. It seemed more of friendly fight between the two men than a salutation.

"I'd recommend a routine number nine," Einstein added as they eventually let go.

"My very thought," Davis whispered, checking the iron cudgel tucked into his wide leather belt. The

'Liverpool Lawgiver' was worn from constant use, and appeared as formidable as a consort Navy

battleship. "Just you look for me, and I'll be there, governor."

"Good man."

Giving a wink, Davis shook the reins, and started the two draft horses away from the curb at a

gentle canter. The cab vanished into the billowing clouds, and soon there was only the rattling echo of its

wooden wheels on the cobblestones that ghostly faded away.

Shaking off his uneasy feeling, Prof. Einstein checked the loaded pistol in his pocket before starting

along the pavement towards the giant brownstone. Then the odd laughter sounded again, louder this time,

and most definitely from the club. Outrageous! With an annoyed snort, Einstein began to stride

impatiently towards the towering downtown mansion.

Reaching the front of the huge building, Prof. Einstein ambled up the worn marble stairs with his mind

still on the strange laughter. Einstein was quite aware that at any given time one could be almost sure of

the leader of some newly returned expedition regaling the assembled members with their latest tales of

derring-do, heavily embellished with sound effects, visual aids and the unwilling cooperation of the

nearest staff member. In point of fact, the London Explorers Club was the only establishment in England

that was forced to offer its servants combat pay. But raucous laughter when the world was on the brink

of destruction? Professor Einstein frowned in consternation. Most unseemly. He had sincerely hoped that

at least some of the other members would have been able to read the portents of the coming apocalypse.

Perhaps he was wrong.

Pushing open the brassbound mahogany door, Einstein entered the mansion and handed his

Inverness cape, hat, and cane to a doorman, who in turn passed them to a liveried page. Taking a deep

breath, the professor stood for a precious moment to let the warm air seep into his bones. The pungent

atmosphere was thick with the homey smell of wood polish, pipe smoke, and cordite. _Ah, home, sweet

home!_

Just then, another burst of laughter arose only to be abruptly cut off by a man's stern voice. Einstein

tried to catch what was being said, but it was rapidly drowned out by a new upswelling of mirth. The

noise seemed to be coming from the Great Hall. In spite of the urgency of his mission, the professor was

forced to admit that this was becoming interesting. There was an unwritten law in the club that one had

best know when to stick to the truth and when one could embellish a story a bit. A law that many bent,

but few actually broke. Sadly, there was always a significant number of expeditions that encountered

nothing more exciting than fetid jungles, smarmy natives, and dull animals that were so patently stupid that

they would wander directly in front of you and politely wait while you dug the old .577 Martini-Henry

bolt-action out of your haversack and did them the favor of blowing out their brains. But those were tales

hardly worth repeating.

Proceeding quickly down the center passageway, Professor Einstein turned left at a suit of Spanish

armor and entered the Great Hall. No exaggeration had been used to name the room, as it was a good

three hundred paces long, its oak beam ceiling an arrow flight away. The four'n square wood floor was

dotted with a hundred islands of India rugs and velvet smoking chairs, while in the center of the room, a

tiered Italian fountain quietly burbled and splashed. Lining the walls were mammoth bookcases containing

over a million leatherbound tomes, most of them first editions, or handwritten journals. High above this

grandeur on the second story balcony was a beautifully sculptured bronze bust of Marco Polo, the patron

saint of explorers, dutifully keeping watch over his modern-day students.

Crowding around a blazing fireplace, a group of club members was surrounding a display table.

Placed prominently on that scarred expanse of dark oak was a small wooden ship, barely a foot in

length. A single low cabin was in the middle of the deck of the tiny vessel. No sails or masts were visible,

and the rudder was broken.

"By god, Carstairs," Lord Danvers laughed from underneath a bushy Royal British Marine

moustache. "You'll have to do better than that!"

"Rather," Dr. Thompkins snorted, dipping his red nose once more into a half-empty whiskey glass.

"Balderdash, I say. Violates the unwritten law. Noah's Ark, indeed."

In righteous indignation, Lord Benjamin Carstairs rose to his full height, and no hat was necessary for

him to tower over the other members.

In cold scrutiny, Prof. Einstein could see the fellow must be over six feet tall, and maybe two

hundred pounds in weight, with not an ounce on fat on the heavily muscled, almost Herculean, frame. The

giant was dapper in a three-piece suit of a brown worsted material that perfectly complemented his stiff

white shirt and striped Harvard tie. His lantern jaw was painfully clean-shaven, while the pale brown hair

and blue eyes clearly announced a Saxon heritage.

Oh well, nobody's perfect, the Norman-descended Einstein observed wryly.

"I stand on my earlier statement, sirs," Lord Carstairs said calmly, resting a tanned hand on the little

craft. "You have seen my journals and read my analysis. This ship was found on the peak of Mt. Ararat,

hidden in a stratified gully just below the snow line. It is made of 4,000-year-old gopher wood and

sealed with crude pitch. To scale, it is of the proper dimensions, and perfectly matches the description of

the craft in the Book of Genesis, chapters six through ten. I believe that it was constructed by Noah Ben

Lamech, as a working model, before he built the actual sea-going ark itself."

Once more, guffaws filled the air and some rude soul added a juicy American raspberry.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Professor Einstein said loudly, interrupting the brouhaha.

In prompt response, the boisterous crowd stopped making noise and turned smartly about.

"Felix, old boy!" Baron Edgewaters shouted, his bushy beard appearing to weigh more than his

prominent belly. "Excellent timing as always. We've got a real wowser for you this time."

"Lad claims to have found a relic off of Noah's Ark, by gad!" Lord Danvers chortled, taking another

healthy gulp. "Thinks he can fool us like Thomson did in '74 with his 'continent under Antarctica' theory.

Haw!"

"How wonderful," Einstein snorted, dismissing the matter with a gesture. "He found Noah's Ark. My

heartiest congratulations. But I have even more pressing news to convey."

"I said a model, not the ark itself, sir," Carstairs corrected primly.

The professor shrugged. "Whatever you wish. It is of no consequence."

"Indeed? And what could be more important than this?" Lord Danvers demanded, stroking his

moustache. "The end of the world?"

Eagerly opening his mouth to speak, Prof. Einstein was cut off by Lord Carstairs.

"And exactly who are you, sir?" the lord asked.

"Haven't you two fellows ever met before?" Dr. Thompkins gasped in wonderment, rising from a

chair.

"No," they replied in unison.

"But this calamity must be corrected with all due haste!" Colonel Pierpont declared, adjusting his

pince-nez glasses and assuming an authoritarian pose. "Carstairs, might I introduce Professor Felix

Einstein of the International British Museum, a private concern. Einstein, may I introduce Lord Benjamin

Carstairs of Heather Downs, Preston."

With both hands clasped behind his back, Lord Carstairs nodded in greeting. "A pleasure, sir. I have

read your books on archeology with the greatest of interest. Particularly your monograph on the

feasibility that Stonehenge is a form of solar calendar."

Impatiently, Einstein accepted the compliment with what grace he could muster under the

circumstances. "A minor work. And I have more than a passing acquaintance with your own journals, sir.

Your theories on the possible Aztec origin of the Easter Island statues are most impressive."

"Thank you."

"And if it will speed things along, as a senior member of the club, I officially acknowledge and

congratulate you on your find," Einstein continued. "For this is not a model as you suppose, but the actual

ark itself."

The roomful of explorers went stock-still at that as if a live woman had entered the club.

"A-are you crazed, Felix?" Sir Lovejoy erupted in shock, going even more pale than usual. "The

craft is barely a foot long! How in the name of Queen Victoria could that _toy_ carry seven and two of

every animal on the face of the earth?"

"Explain yourself, sir!" Dr. Thompkins demanded.

Quite exasperated, Prof. Einstein closed his eyes so that nobody would see him roll them about. Ye

gods, plainly no other topic of conversation would be considered until this trifling matter was resolved. So

be it.

"Jeeves!" the professor shouted over a shoulder.

Instantly, the liveried butler appeared in the doorway as if he had been waiting for the explosive

summons. "Yes, sir?" he drawled in proper English servitude.

"Fresh gasogenes, please," Einstein commanded, thoughtfully rubbing his lucky shark's tooth. "Every

bloody one we have."

This gave Jeeves pause. There was a barely used soda water dispenser on the liquor cart right

beside the man. Why would he wish additional reservoirs? And every one? For a club like the Explorers,

that meant several dozen, at the very least. Then the butler went cold. _Oh no_, he prayed fervently, _not

another re-enactment of the Amazon rain forest. Anything but that._

"Wasn't aware that you've recently been to the Amazon, Felix," Lord Danvers said, refilling his glass

as the somber butler shuffled away.

Ignoring that comment, Prof. Einstein stolidly waited until Jeeves returned moments later. Experience

being a bitter teacher, the butler was wearing a Macintosh overcoat and rubber boots as he pushed along

a trolley loaded with several small wooden crates full of gasogenes soda water dispensers. Plus, an

umbrella and a bucket.

"Thank you, Jeeves," Professor Einstein said politely, taking a gasogene from the trolley. The

umbrella and bucket were a wise precaution, but unnecessary in this particular instance. "Now please

give one of these to everybody in the room."

As the butler distributed the dispensers, Einstein moved the display table to the center of the hall.

Now armed with gasogenes, everybody waited to see what would happen next. Felix Einstein had a

well-deserved reputation of pulling rabbits out of his hat. That bizarre museum of his was a prime

example.

Exercising extraordinary care, Prof. Einstein aligned the tiny ship so that its keel was directed length

wise down the room. The wood felt dry as dust to his touch and his fingers stuck slightly to the craft,

which certainly seemed to substantiate his theory about its origins. With extreme fastidiousness, the

professor made one last minute correction in the ship's placement. Yes. Good enough.

"On my mark, gentlemen, hose the ark with water," Einstein said, assuming a firing stance. "Ready,

aim..."

The encircling crowd was plainly delighted beyond words, while the stunned Lord Carstairs lowered

his gasogene. "Are you sure this is prudent?" he asked in real concern.

"Fire!" Prof. Einstein cried, triggering his dispenser. A sparkling gush of effervescence splashed onto

the minuscule craft. The stream of water hit it squarely, yet not a single drop of liquid rolled off the vessel

to land on the table. Then an ominous creaking sound came from the wooden boat.

"All of you! Act now!" Einstein barked, over the hissing spray of carbonated water. "Spray quickly,

or the ship will tear itself apart!"

It was more the whipcrack tone of the professor's voice than anything else that made the other

members comply. In an orchestrated attack, several streams of carbonated water went gushing onto the

relic, washing over it from stern to bow and back again.

As the pressure in the gasogenes eventually become exhausted, the rush of soda water slowed to a

trickle, the last dribbles falling from the spouts to spot the India rug.

"Astonishing," Duke Farthington whispered, staring at the little boat. It was barely damp. Definitely,

something strange was going on here.

With a bizarre sucking noise, the pools of moisture around the craft disappeared into the hull, and

before the startled eyes of the club members, the desiccated craft began to swell like some impossible

sponge. With incredible speed, the expanding ship outgrew the display table, the enlarging pushing aside

a vacant chair and smashing a lamp.

"Get back!" Colonel Pierpont cried out, throwing both hands skyward and accidentally knocking off

his pince-nez glasses.

No further prompting was needed for the startled club members to dive for safety. With a loud

crack, the display table broke apart and crashed to the floor. Rapidly, the ark continued to increase in

size in every direction, all the while creaking and groaning as if was being tortured on the high seas. Five

yards, ten, twenty yards in length it reached, before the rate of growth noticeably slowed.

"By Jove!" Baron Edgewaters roared, crouching behind an ottoman. "Look at that! The bloody thing

actually is Noah's Ark!"

"Indubitably," somebody said from the other side of the craft.

"This is dehydration on a scale unheard of in the entire civilized world!" added another unseen

member from the general vicinity of the prow.

"Or England," a patriotic chap added, from behind the window curtains.

"Congratulations, Benjamin!" Lord Danvers boomed from under the liquor cart.

Wriggling from their hiding places, the entire assemblage gathered around Lord Carstairs and gave

him a thunderous round of applause. Beaming in unabashed pleasure, Carstairs suddenly took on a

pained expression and pointed in horror. Everybody turned just in time to see the still slowly expanding

prow of the vessel nose into the trough of the bubbling fountain.

"Bloody hell," Prof. Einstein whispered, taking a step backwards.

There came a loud slurping noise, closely followed by a mighty groan of tormented wood, and the

ark exploded into double its size. More than fifty yards in length, the vessel loomed over the scrambling

men as it continued to grow, rapidly filling the Great Hall. With the sound of shattering stone, the fountain

noisily collapsed and the ship settled over the stony remains, precipitating a great column of water that

washed over the ship and yielded yet another massive spurt of growth.

"The mains!" Lord Carstairs shouted to the staff members who were staring in wonder through the

doorway. "Turn off the water mains!"

Obediently, one of the servants spun about and dashed down the hall.

His mind swirling with dire mathematics, Prof. Einstein could only scowl at the monstrosity forming

before them. _Two and seven of every animal on the earth. How big would the Ark get? Answer: too

damn big. This was definitely not good!_

Like a wooden express train, the traveling prow violently rammed into the fireplace, smashing the

hearth, and tilting the oil painting of Her Royal Majesty. As it fell, the stern of the ship slammed into the

far wall, shattering the plaster and causing the bust of Marco Polo to rip free from its pedestal on the

second floor balcony. As the massive bronze statue plummeted straight towards a horrified Jeeves, Lord

Carstairs surged forward to shove the man aside. The heavy bust crashed onto Carstairs instead, the

savage blow driving the lord to his knees as he barely managed to deflect the three hundred pounds of

metal onto a 7th century pirate's chest. Even over the creaking of the Ark, the splintery explosion of the

chest from the meteoric impact was clearly discernable.

White-faced and trembling, Jeeves had trouble speaking for a moment. "Y-you saved my life," the

butler finally stammered, his nerveless fingers dropping the umbrella to the floor.

"Think nothing of it," Carstairs panted, flexing his hands to stop the stinging. "I'm sure you would

have done the same for me."

Tilting his head, Jeeves glanced at the quarter-ton of metal explorer laying in the splintered midst of

what had once been a sturdy steamer trunk. "Quite so," the manservant remarked in dry sincerity.

Now from beneath the Ark there came a series of squeaks and a banging metallic rattle. Its growth

immediately slowed and with a final groaning lurch that shattered the eastern skylight, the titanic craft

went thankfully still.

"By Gadfrey!" a member whispered askance, wiggling free from between the broken rudder and a

bookcase. "And I thought Williamson's recounting of his trip to Lake Geneva exciting."

Battered, but undamaged, the explorers slowly crawled out from under the furniture, and dusted

themselves off while staring at the impossible vessel. Going to the remains of the liquor cabinet, Lord

Danvers poured himself a stiff drink.

Prof. Einstein straightened the Queen's portrait back on the wall. _Better._

"Damnation, sir," Duke Farthington cried out, clapping Lord Carstairs on the shoulder. "But you're a

hard act to follow!"

Breaking into nervous laughter, the younger members began clearing aside the assorted debris, while

the senior members contemplated the Biblical behemoth filling the hall.

"Of course, how we will get it out of here is another matter entirely," Lord Danvers observed,

finishing his whiskey.

"Damned inconvenient holding meetings with this hanging above our heads," Judge

Foxthington-Symthe stated, thoughtfully stroking one of his many chins. "We could always just tear down

a wall or two and ease it out into the back courtyard. Make a fine gazebo, it would. Impress the

neighbors no end."

All work paused as everybody turned to stare at the judge.

"Outside?" a man asked.

"Where it _rains_?" another questioned.

The entire group of explorers paled at those words and looked at the Ark with growing expressions

of horror. Exactly what were they to do with this thing?

Clapping his hands, Prof. Einstein got the members moving again and eventually a path was cleared

to the doorway, allowing the staff to rush in with brooms and dustpans to begin the Herculean job of

straightening the hall. Leaving them to the task, the disheveled club members now gathered round

Carstairs and Einstein.

"Members of the Explorers Club," Duke Farthington shouted in his best Parliamentary voice. "I give

you, Lord Benjamin Carstairs!"

A formal round of applause came from the members, and the British lord made a sweeping bow.

"Thank you, gentlemen. I am most gratified." Then Carstairs turned to address Prof. Einstein in a quieter

voice. "And thank you, sir, for saving my reputation. If ever I can return the favor, pray inform me."

"Now would be a good time," Einstein said bluntly. "I came here to find two or three men to assist

me on an extremely dangerous expedition." The professor smiled at the dapper young goliath. "But then,

it appears that you are two or three men."

As the observation was hardly original, Lord Carstairs accepted the statement complacently. "Pray

tell, what is the nature of this expedition?"

"To save the world from total destruction."

Taken aback in surprise, Carstairs blinked a few times at the outlandish statement. "Are you quite

serious, Professor?"

Einstein nodded. "Absolutely, Lord Carstairs."

Since honor was on the line, the decision came instantaneously. "Then I am at your command, sir,"

Lord Carstairs said, extending a massive hand.

As gingerly as if grasping a spring-loaded bear trap, Prof. Einstein accepted the offer and they

shook.

"Excellent, lad!" Einstein said, glancing about at the scene of turmoil about them. "But this is no place

to talk. Come, I'll tell you the details on the way to my home."

"Indeed. Why the hurry? Is the matter pressing?"

"Yes, time is of the essence."

"Accepted, then."

As the two men walked from the room, Lord Carstairs took the opportunity to add, "Is there any

chance that we may be back from wherever we're going by early next month? Several friends and I had

planned on taking another crack at locating the elephants' graveyard in Africa."

Starting a caustic reply, Professor Einstein paused and then spoke tactfully. "Lad, if our expedition is

not successful, then you won't have to worry about such matters."

Frowning darkly, Lord Carstairs uneasily chewed upon that cryptic statement. "Indeed, sir," he

murmured.

In the foyer, the liveried page gave their coats to the doorman, who in turn primly passed them to the

owners. In the background, there could be heard a great deal of cursing and hammering from the ruin of

the Great Hall.

Donning their outer garments, the two men departed from the club, and walked down to the curb.

Placing two fingers in his mouth, Prof. Einstein gave a sharp whistle, and from within the billowing fog

there came the crack of a whip, a horse whinnied and a brougham carriage into view with Davis at the

reins.

Climbing inside, the two explorers seated themselves comfortably as Davis set the carriage into

motion. As the cab moved into the deeper recesses of the river mist, a group of hooded figures stepped

from the shadowy alleyway alongside the Explorers Club. Shaking the broken window glass from their

robes, the men adjusted the scarves masking their features, pulled knives, and swiftly followed the

departing vehicle. Oddly, their hard-sole boots did not make a sound on the granite cobblestones of the

city street.

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*TWO*

Clear and strong, the mighty Big Ben began to chime the midnight hour as somewhere in the gray

mist a muffled foghorn moaned in warning to ships on the Thames River.

Inside the jostling carriage, Lord Carstairs reclined in the sumptuous leather seating. "That was a

spot of good luck to locate a cab this quickly on so poor a night," he commented. "Perhaps it is a good

omen for our journey, eh what?"

"Nothing of the sort, lad. I had it waiting for me," Einstein remarked, checking the time on a gold

Beugueret pocket watch.

"How unusual," Carstairs noted, stretching out his legs. "You must pay the driver exorbitantly for

such a service. Or is he part of your staff?"

"Merely professional courtesy," the professor corrected, showing an ornate signet ring on his left

pinky.

Arching an eyebrow, Lord Carstairs studied the unusual bit of jewelry. "You're a member of the

Cab Drivers Guild?" he asked incredulously.

"The Coalition of the Street we prefer to be called, but yes, I am an honorary member," Einstein

said, breathing on the ring before polishing it on a trouser leg. "Quite often in my work I have found it

highly useful to belong to as many private associations and restricted clubs as possible. One can never tell

when the assistance of a fellow member will be highly desirous."

"That certainly seems to make sense," Carstairs replied politely.

Resting the ebony cane across his lap, the professor smiled ruefully. "So far, the only society that has

totally refused me admittance is the Daughters of Lesbos."

Unsure if that was a joke or not, Lord Carstairs leaned back and reached inside his coat to produce

a gold cigar case. Snapping it open, the lord politely offered an assortment of hand-rolled Cubans to the

professor. Einstein stared at the leafy cylinders with dismay.

"An imported Havana mixture," Carstairs said encouragingly. "My own private blend."

Recognizing the futility of arguing health with a confirmed smoker, the professor relinquished his

usual adamant position and joined his associate in lighting a slim panatela. Soon, the atmosphere inside

the cab was as thick as the air outside and, in spite of his scientific abhorrence of the practice, Einstein

was forced to admit that it really was a damn fine cigar.

From the front of the carriage came the crack of a whip and a horse whinny, and the vehicle angled

sharply about for a tight turn. Almost losing their seats, both men grabbed hold of the convenient leather

straps set next to the door and fought to stay upright.

"Incompetent bounder," Lord Carstairs muttered angrily.

"Evasive tactics," Prof. Einstein corrected.

"Are we being pursued, sir?"

Inspecting the end of his cigar, Einstein said nothing.

Allowing the pungent smoke to trickle from his mouth, Lord Carstairs turned to glance out a

window. Even through the dense river fog, he could see the vast halls of Parliament, the great stone

building still encased in a maze of scaffolding.

"Appears they're almost done with the repairs," he remarked with pride, the smoky words

momentarily visible in the air.

Puffing contentedly, Prof. Einstein nodded. "A nice job too, considering how much damage it

received in the -- "

"Troubles," Carstairs interjected, gesturing with his cigar.

Furrowing his brow, Einstein scowled in irritation. "It was war, damn it. War! Why can't anybody

just admit that?"

"Tact," the lord replied simply.

As politeness was the backbone of civilization, the professor had no possible retort to that. Angrily,

he flicked cigar ash out the window just as the fog briefly parted, admitting a wealth of silvery moonlight

into the cab.

Gesturing with the smoldering stub, Einstein indicated the misty sky overhead. "Well, is polite society

willing to talk about the moon?" the professor demanded. "Or is that also something else people decline

to discuss?"

"Not a bit of it," Lord Carstairs replied, shifting the cigar to a new location in his mouth. "I heard

about the phenomenon before I left the continent. The Royal Astronomical Society is completely foxed

about the whole thing."

"As so they should be, lad," Prof. Einstein said, blowing a smoke ring at the crescent. The fumes

joined the fog and moon was gone again. "By celestial mechanics beyond our understanding, the moon is

revolving to show us its long hidden face. What do you think of that, eh?"

Inhaling deeply, Carstairs gave the matter a few minutes of somber thought. "Be a nice change, I

dare say."

"What? Is that all it means to you?" the professor asked, staring agog.

The lord shrugged. "Honestly, sir, considering the state of the world, I don't see how this

development can be of any real importance. Except perhaps to poets, and a few painters."

"Indeed," Einstein said sounding disappointed, his fingers drumming on the coach seat. "Lord

Carstairs, how familiar are you with the mythology of the Dutarian Empire?"

Lord Carstairs thoughtfully puffed on his cigar before answering. "Only vaguely," Carstairs replied

honestly. "It was a small secluded city/state in the Sumatra region, founded around 3000 BC. They were

a rather vigorous empire with a pronounced reputation for bloodthirstiness. They were on the rise for

slightly over a hundred years until they suffered some sort of natural disaster and completely

disappeared."

Tapping the excess ash from the glowing tip of the cigar, Carstairs replaced it to savor another deep

puff. "As to religion and myths, they worshiped some sort of fish, I believe. Don't remember anything

about the moon." He focused his attention onto the professor. "I assume there is a connection."

Although he tried not to show it, Prof. Einstein was extremely impressed. Most university scholars

would have had to consult numerous volumes to unearth the information this man had so casually tossed

off. Obviously, Einstein had made the correct choice in an associate.

"Absolutely there is a connection. And the Dutarians did not worship a fish, per se," Einstein

corrected, "but a giant squid. The Squid God, they called it, although demon might be a more accurate

translation. It was supposed to be a horrific beast that had a thousand tentacles, a dozen mouths, and

was totally invulnerable to man-made weapons."

"And it fed on human blood."

His cigar drooped as Einstein eagerly leaned forward in the smoky cab. "Great Scott, you've heard

of the creature?" he demanded.

"No, but it would have been a rather unusual deity for a warrior state to revere if it didn't," Carstairs

said, puffing away steadily. "Rather reminds me of that Aztec god of war, Huitzilopochtli. He required

massive amounts of the stuff to make the dawn come."

"Ah, but in the sun god aspect of Tonatiu, he was perceived as a bringer of life," Einstein noted with

a raised finger. "The Squid God was known only as a destroyer, just barely controlled by the Dutarian

priests who summoned it and, in the end, not even they could do so."

"You're talking as if the thing really existed," Carstairs chided, flicking his cigar butt out the window.

"And that is patently absurd, sir."

"As absurd as Noah's Ark?" Einstein asked quietly.

The British lord closed his mouth with an audible snap and, for the next several seconds, conflicting

emotions battled for supremacy across his handsome face.

"Oh, at least as absurd," Carstairs conceded with a smile. "However, sir, you actually saw my

proof."

"And soon," the professor said, leaning back into the seat to gaze out the window, "you shall see

mine."

* * * *

With a clatter of hooves on cobblestone, the brougham carriage came to a halt at the curb in front of a

simple brick mansion bordered by a high wrought-iron gate. Exiting the cab, Prof. Einstein tried to pay

Davis, who adamantly refused. Sensing a battle of wills was in progress, Lord Carstairs took the

opportunity for a good stretch after his confinement. The lord was still in the same position when the

professor joined him on the pavement.

"Something wrong?" Einstein asked, taking the fellow by the arm.

"The International British Museum for _Stolen_ Antiquities?" Lord Carstairs said reading the huge

sign above the front door. "Good lord, Professor, isn't that laying it on a bit thick?"

With a cavalier gesture, Prof. Einstein completely dismissed the matter. "Purely advertising, lad. It

gives the patrons a vicarious thrill. You should have seen the newspaper headlines on the day we opened

shop."

"But still," Carstairs hedged uncomfortably.

"And it's not entirely true," Einstein continued, unlocking the front gate and holding it open. Carstairs

walked through and the professor securely locked it again. "Well over twenty percent of our exhibits

have been legally purchased."

Quite impressed, Lord Carstairs gave a whistle. "As many as that? My apologies."

"Think nothing of it," Einstein said, unlocking the front door and swinging aside the heavy oak portal.

Entering a vestibule, the two men dodged round a group of velvet ropes set to direct patrons to a

ticket booth, and continued past a sturdy brass turnstile. The foyer was lined with various old world

maps; some on parchment, others on papyrus or sheepskin. Each was highly illuminated with imaginative

renderings of the creatures that supposedly lurked in the deep waters, waiting to devour anybody rash

enough to venture beyond the safety of land.

As they proceeded through a curtained alcove, brilliant light washed over them and Carstairs gasped

in astonishment, while Einstein snorted in disgust.

"Owen must have forgotten to turn off the bloody lights again," Prof. Einstein complained. "Damned

gas bills are going to bankrupt me. William Owen is a bright student and a good lad, but he has no sense

of propriety."

"Indeed?"

"Well, he's Welsh, you know," the professor added, as if that explained the matter.

Looking over the museum, Carstairs dumbly nodded in agreement. The building was a single

colossal room that stretched the length and breath of the property. The entire Explorers Club could have

easily fit inside the cavernous structure!

Everywhere were rows of exhibit cases and display racks of a thousand different types.

Rainbow-colored tapestries lined the walls and precious Ming vases stood secure inside a row of

gleaming glass pyramids. Dominating the entire west wing was the elaborately carved skeleton of a

Tyrannosaurus Rex, poised as if ready to attack. Next to the dinosaur stood a squad of brightly

lacquered Oriental armor in proud formation, guarding a gilt-edged sarcophagus, its glass top displaying a

perfectly preserved Egyptian mummy inside.

In the east wing was a completely restored Viking long boat, a Roman galley, and an Imperial

Chinese barge, each resting in stout mahogany dry docks sporting delicately engraved brass plates that

detailed their histories and attributes.

Adorning the ceiling was a painted panorama of the Milky Way, with round glass skylights depicting

the eight known planets, plus two theoretical worlds. Directly below the panorama hung a huge pair of

feathered wings joined together by an ancient leather body harness. Even the floor seemed to be an

exhibit, the black fleck marble underlain with strange runes and geometric patterns. In somber deference,

Lord Carstairs removed his hat.

"I am speechless, sir," he finally managed to croak, throat tight with professional admiration. "It is

totally unlike any museum I have ever seen before!"

Busily tying the curtains closed, Einstein glanced up at that statement. "What, this rubbish? Bah.

Mere baubles to amuse the idle tourist. The real museum starts on the other side of that brass door."

Lord Carstairs turned. The door in question was located alongside the mammoth Tyrannosaurus, set

into a hinged section of the wall that obviously served as an access portal for the larger exhibits.

"Might we take a moment?" Carstairs asked eagerly.

The professor gave a bow. "Certainly. It's on the way to my office."

"Splendid!"

Walking side by side, the two men briskly strode across the museum. Prof. Einstein noted that the

cases had been properly cleaned, while Lord Carstairs observed the bewildering assortment of material,

which included stacks of ancient coins, jeweled hairpins, golden whips, plus an array of highly ornamental

crowns from as many countries as centuries. The riches of a hundred kingdoms were on display with no

apparent guards or protection of any sort.

"Professor, do you have much trouble with thieves?" the lord finally asked.

"Not at all," Einstein remarked. "The glass in every exhibit case is specially tempered and veined with

hair-thin steel wires, quite invulnerable to anything short of a sledgehammer. Plus, at night the grounds are

patrolled by Hans, Dolf, and Inga."

Carstairs nodded sagely. "Ah, pit bulls no doubt, or perhaps you use mastiffs. Nasty dogs. My gilly

makes use of them for my country estate."

"Dogs?" Professor Einstein said as if he had never heard the word before. "Nonsense, lad. Even the

most vicious _Canis Familiaris_ are far too gentle to serve as protectors of my establishment. I use the

much more brutal and bloodthirsty _Felis Tigris_."

"B-Bengal tigers?" Lord Carstairs gasped, coming to a halt.

"The biggest you have ever seen," the professor added with a touch of pride.

Suddenly staring into the darkness, for a split second Lord Carstairs was back in the wild bush of

Africa, with the thunderous purring of the huge killer cats coming from every side at once.

Nick Pollotta - That Darn Squid God

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