Team of Seven III Chapter 1 and 2

Jimmy Loong

26/06/2017

Book 1

The New Team

1.

The constable held nervously on his truncheon with his eyes watching the roofs of the buildings across the street. It was not his usual routine of walk beat nor was the standing in the dark alley way but it was not his normal nights. He glanced over to the figures huddled there on the side. They were privileged then to be holding those rifles with the bayonet protruding at the top. Their tin hat will probably stop a bullet but he reckoned not brute force. He looked up at his own standard issued hat and smiled. It won’t stop a bullet nor brute force but his head would. He had been in the brawls or hit on by the ladies with the brooms and not a scratch there he could not mend.

“Hey, Bobby…” The army figure with the two stripes on the arm called up.

“It’s Constable Robert and I am nobody son named Bobby.” The constable took offence to be called that. “And I know you well, Artful Dodger.”

“Yeah, old chap. We go back a long way.” Dodger then turned to his three others there. Those were ranking soldiers. “Bobby here was on the beat at my street when I was the ‘tall fast boy’ then.”

“He meant he was the pick pocket boy. I had my tales before the Inspector told me to straighten my back and be goof Booby like him.” Dodger motioned to the constable. “Or join the Army. Bloody good it will do for me if I did.”

“I would had opted the second for there I have more of my mates.” Dodger laughed out and was silenced by the senior officer who joined from the rear. The officer tapped the one with the rank of Corporal.

“Silence there, Corporal or I will have you reprimanded.” Lieutenant Smith moved up the line. The huddled army men stood up and saluted the officer.

“Any movement there?” Lieutenant Smith asked. He was wondering why the Army was called up when it was the work of the Metropolitan Police. “Let me…”

Constable Robert hushed the officer with his eyes trying to pick the moving shadows on the rooftop. He finally saw the adversary next to the chimney of No.10 rooftop. He motioned to the officer.

“No.10, Sir.”

The Lieutenant gave the hand signal for his elite shooters to move out. The two elite shooters were at the rear and had then stepped out to take position on the street with their rifles aimed at the No.10 roof.

“Sir, could he be the chimney sweeper? Or Santa Claus? I don’t want to miss my Christmas present.” Dodger whispered out.

“Clam it or I will have you in the Army pens for insubordination.” Lieutenant Smith edged out of the alley while holding his assigned Webley pistol. He then saw the shadow moved to the gutter on the roof and was to shoot when he recognized the shape.

“Stand down, it’s a cat.” Soon as the words came out of the Lieutenant, Constable Roberts saw the second shadow that moved back to the chimney.

“By George it’s him!” That call was enough for the shooter to pull the trigger on his rifle. His aim was the chimney top which he took a notch off its bricks there. The other shooter also rained their shots there and more of the chimney body work was chipped off.

“The monster is on the move!” Constable Robert placed the whistle to his lips and alerted the others when he saw the shadow ran to the other houses. More of the Army shooters appeared from both of the street and sporadic firings were heard. He soon joined in the chase with his eyes on the rooftops. He saw then the two figures by the sidewalk and stopped there.

“Sir, I think we have him nailed this time.” Constable Roberts reported to the tall man in the overcoat and deerstalker for a hat. “I will join the others in the chase now, Sir.”

“I say, Watson. Would you agree that the Constable is over zealous not lose his prized catch if he does catch it? After all, it’s his beat here.”

“Well, it would had not mattered if the prey was a hound like in Baskerville (The Hounds of Baskerville’s case) but his one is more …… resilient and God knows what else the man had done to himself?”

“Yes, most …. Intriguing. If it was true that this monster we are in pursue is the elusive Dr Jekyll or the destructive Mr Hyde.”

 “Jeekul was how you should pronounce his name. is Scottish” Watson reminded Sherlock. He himself was a descent of the Highlands. His middle name was Hamish; spoken by his wife then in her home. Sherlock was not avid of calling him that and Watson became the name he was often referred to.

“Yes, my apologies. I have not been …”

“Yourself, Sherlock. Your long withdrawal from your medication while in India may have hampered your body workings.” Watson was without the needed cocaine to sustain Sherlock’s requirement then and the signs were there when he did not partake in every section of the discussion.

“I doubt so but I am not the doctor here. Please let us focus on the case on hand.”

“Yes, I knew Doc Jekyll by reputation. He was well made, stylish but he craved to see more was done for Mankind in their aggressive behaviour. He spent a great deal of time to research for the potion to subdue that in Man but in the opposite he achieved it to make himself into the alter ego Mr Hyde.”

“Thus, name Mr Hyde by the papers. I wondered what they do for mine if only they knew.” The voice was Holmes but not the one whom standing next to Watson but approaching with silent steps.

“Mycroft, why am I not surprised to see you at such wee hours of morning?” Sherlock quipped in his cynical tone. “I thought with our trip to India, you might have joined them in the wee hours of their waking too.”

“It’s about eight in the morning there but I am here for another purpose.” Mycroft stepped forth to join the two. “I am here on his…”

“How is your bowel?” Watson interrupted. “You are not still …”

“No, thank you. I am …recovered. As I was saying…”

“How are the Greystokes?” It was Sherlock’s turn. “I am sorry. Was I rude? Maybe I should ask about the weather?”

“Fine…. I mean the weather. For the Greystoke, they have returned to their adopted land.”

“You mean their original home. John Clayton was his ancestral name. His real name was Tarzan of the Jungle.” Sherlock cut in.

“Surely you will let me speak my piece before you asked me of the others.” Mycroft was getting agitated. “I am here on the order of His…”

“He is getting away.” The soldiers called out. The trio standing there then saw the figure leapt from the roof. It was three levels up and any normal person would have suffered broken limbs unless that person was well versed in the art of trapeze but not that fleeing one. The one landed on his feet in a crouched manner and then sprang off in a run towards the adjacent building. He was fired upon but he evaded the bullets well. He jumped up the wall there and with his fingers. He created the cracks to pull himself up. He climbed up as if the cracks were already there but the for the mason, they would have attested that the walls were just painted over last week with the cracks covered. The figure climbed up to the second level and then crashed into the window there.

“Don’t shoot him…I meant don’t hurt him. He is mine.” Mycroft called out. He then turned to the duo and told them. “Dr Jekyll is one of ours.”

“I hope not another missing Holmes.” Watson cut in.

2.

Van Helsing stood there clad in the thick overcoat and extra wrappings over his limbs, he asked himself for the hundredth time why he was there.

Shang-ri-la.

The place does not exist just like Heaven or Hell. They were all made to be believed by the masses. Just like the Devil once told the masses he does not exist. They all believed it and looked elsewhere for guidance. If the Devil had not done it then, then he would have been hounded by the others.  The Shang-ri-la although supposed to be fabled have more people hounding it. Van Helsing thoughts went deeper in the icy cold place where life could hardly exit there. He could not find any vegetation at where he reached with his climb nor of any settlement though there were the few huts build by the guides for the ones that needed it.

“This could be my place.”

Van Helsing had looked forward to the life of non-existence then. He was tired of the hunts and the kills when his elusive prey; Dracula still remained at large. His forefathers have hunted the King of Vampire through the ages with each of them perishing close to their prey but never to kill it. The King had been in existence for generations and it was fabled to the beginning of time. He was claimed then to the soul taker, the skin walker, the archangel of death, the great priest and even God. Or God-like in their sight. The claimant was praised by some and hated by the others. It died many times but only by their eyes and never in their mind. It existed then for the survivals to pick it up the pieces and reformed the form.

Dracula was it last name.

And if he was to know more of the King, maybe Shang-ri-la held the clue.

Both shared the fame of mystic level. Not the one they claimed to be but the King was good at shifting the fame to others. It survived and then to another devourer of the souls. Van Helsing had once caught up the King in a simple village whose villagers were his subjects. He fought them all but he failed to capture it. It seemed that failure plagued the Van Helsing like all the others. He was just added to the list. He was also the last of the living Van Helsing. He did not father any; well he tried but they were more of pleasures than mating. Like a pen without the ink but the writer still continues on with the writing.

“There is no one else.” Van Helsing turned to look at whom that spoke. It was leader of the Dark Wolves. There were four of them. “I am named Earth.”

“And you are the one who believed in it.” Van Helsing asked. “Where were you when I was in the …….ship?”

“Well, for one it could not fit all of us. Two, we were told to hold back after we escort you there.” Earth replied. “We are duty bound to follow his orders.”

“So, what new orders then?”

“Help you find Shang-ri-la. It may not be what you think it’s.” Earth told him. “But before we go there, we need to ask them for permission. After all we are in their mountains.”

There was a figure standing there dressed in the red cloak called dagang in Tibetan language. He had over his shoulder the satin satchel and the feet were covered with thick woollen cloth with hard sandal bottom. The figures wore the lotus shaped caps which were red in the shade. The members of the Dark Wolves bowed to the guardian of the mountain.

“I am Daeng No Pra, the Head Priest.” The figure approached Van Helsing. “I am here to tell you that the Mountains are no longer ours but of another master. The once warriors of the Mountains have sworn their loyalty to the new Master.”

Van Helsing had met many so named Masters in his time but he held the masters may sometimes sounded cranky in their words but at times they made sense.

“Why am I drawn to here? What is this place?”

“This place is where the mountains reign over the land with its peaks as the watch towers in some and entrances in others to the higher dimensions. We were the servants that kept the place …pristine for generations. We held it secrets from the underserving ones. Among it was we are the custodian of the Vault where the untamed ones are imprisoned below in the mountain deep down in the bowel of the Earth core.”

“So that what drew me here? The untamed ones? You have my nemesis here.” Van Helsing glared at the priest. “I do not have his …”

“Perhaps this might assist you.” The priest conjured up the image of the nemesis sought by the demon slayer. It was the image of Dracula.

“Is he that …. Untamed that you make your life achievement to hunt and destroy him? Or is he that untamed? Perhaps he is not” The priest asked. “Like these mountains. We stand at the peak and, yet are we? If I flipped the world we are in, we are here then.”

Instead of mountains, Van Helsing found himself standing on water in the middle of the ocean.

“We are at the opposite side of the world we live in. If you recall the world is a ball and we rotate around the Sun.” The priest stood a distance away. “Or the Sun rotated around the world we live in? It’s all confusing yet we are intrigued by it.”

“Are you for real, priest?” Van Helsing asked. “Where is Sherlock when you need him most? I wished there were more of Holmes.”

Then they were back on the peak. The priest approached Van Helsing.

“I am telling you came here because you wanted to know about the mixed feelings in your mind. You felt the evil here; your old nemesis perhaps and yet you feel differently. That was why you came here. I am telling you that evil have yield a new master and not you alone could stop him but a team of you. All of you will work in different directions but all of you will convene to the same destination; the lair of the evil one.”

“I will assist you like many others for your friends but for you alone to stand a chance, you must be given a tool to counter the evil here. I am therefore your master to assist you.” The priest held out the item from his back. It was a musician clarinet in design and yet it was different.

“This is a gyaling; a traditional woodwind instrument played by the priests here during prayers and chanting. It’s made of hardwood and held a copper brass bell. Those finger holes determine the sounds.”

“Only with this could you defeat the evil master. And for that, I have a tale to tell you.”