Castor hopped off the double-decker and headed down the street. It was a short walk to the Sport and Social Club building, officially named the Special Air Service Retireds’ Regimental Club. He stepped inside.
“Sergeant Searle, it’s been some time since you visited us last,” said the official doorman.
“Too true, Corporal Johnson, too true. But needs must, you know.” He handed the man his umbrella and light coat. He straightened his tie in the mirror by the closet and brushed down his shirt and waistcoat. “Is the Colonel in?”
“Yes, sir, I believe he’s in the Red smoking room upstairs. Shall I see if he’s engaged?”
“Yes, please.”
Castor walked into the main lounge and looked over the room. Most of the occupants were engrossed in either their newspapers or quiet conversation.
“The Colonel will see you now,” Johnson said behind him.
The ex-Sergeant nodded his head and followed him.
“Ah, Sergeant Searle, what a surprise,” said the silver-haired man holding what was probably a whiskey in his hand, “Haven’t seen you since your last promotion in Surrey.” He was seated in a comfortable armchair, with a bottle and a second glass, already filled, on the table beside him. “What brings you to me today?” He gave Castor a quick up and down look. “And formal, too.”
“Well, sir, I’ve seen something that makes me a tad nervous. It’s probably just my imagination, but . . . .” He shook his head. “Nothing illegal, what I’ve checked is all above board. But it just doesn’t sit right.” He handed the Colonel the printout of property sales in Little Whinging and sat in the chair across from him.
The Colonel put down his glass and gestured to Searle to take the full glass on the table, then sat back and began perusing the papers. Castor took a sip. Yes, it was whiskey. He sighed and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees as he waited for the officer’s reaction. When the Colonel looked up and arched an eyebrow, he explained what he had seen when he visited Wisteria Estate in Little Whinging earlier that day.
“Interesting story,” the Colonel said, topping off Castor’s whiskey glass from the decanter.
“Uh huh.” He took another sip. “Everything seems to be going through this conveyance solicitor, Lin Yueshi. I checked with PC Stanford, he knows the man. Says he’s been straight, as far as he knows. No problems and never been in trouble — not a difficult feat when all you do is handle conveyances, but still . . . .
“And then I have to wonder how they managed to get everyone to sell. I’d expect several to dig in their heels and say no, or hold out for more quid. But the records indicate they all sold for normal market values. Which is not normal. Someone always wants more.”
He frowned at his glass. “On the other hand, this Yueshi was the one who set us on the Dursleys. Said he had a confidential source that something very bad had been going on there for several years.” He looked up at the Colonel. “You might have missed that, it hasn’t hit the papers yet in any detail. Don’t know why.” He shook his head. “An orphan boy living with abusive relatives. Straight out of Dickens. Nobody’s seen the boy in a year. Word is he ran away.” He scowled. “Enough blood stains to make ya wonder if he didn’t.” He shook his head. “They’re currently at Her Majesty’s pleasure, waiting trial.”
He took another sip. “There’s more to this solicitor than anyone knows, I say. P.C. Stanford says he claimed client privilege when he asked for a bit more information about the buyer. Just said they wanted the properties for a big, and legal, project.”
Then he explained what had happened when he had returned to Magnolia Road that evening before coming here.
The Colonel was holding his whiskey glass up before him, rolling it back and forth between his palms, deep in thought.
“Colonel, there’s something really dodgy going on here. She knew I was watching, but the angle I was at would have required her to step outside and look. I would have seen her. And she didn’t. I would have said someone rang her up, but the houses within sight were all vacant. Or are supposed to be. She could have hopped over fences in the back-gardens until she could see me, but then she would have had to know I was there in the first place. If she was in the forest, then why would she just stand in the forest watching me for two hours?”
He sighed. “There are a half-dozen ways she could have known I was there, but none of them are things a civilian should think about or do.
“And just how did she know P.C. Havers and I had stopped to look in the houses on Privet Drive and Wisteria Way?”
He took a deep breath. “Well. I know there’s nothing you can do, it’s just that I thought someone should know, just in case.” He shook his head. “Give me a HALO any day over this crap.”
The colonel grinned at him. “I understand completely. Give me a straight up fight and I’m fine. Creeping around in the dark when you don’t know who or what to trust? Nuh-uh. Don’t like that at-all.” He sighed and became serious. “Look, I’ll contact a few friends and see if I can find anything. Hopefully, it’s all just some industrial manoeuvring and nothing serious.” He finished his whiskey. “Ring up your Chief Inspector and let him know. Take a P.C. with you for backup, and a sergeant, if your Chief will allow it. As you say, it’s probably nothing. Let me know how it turns out.”
Castor hoped he wasn’t about to hit the second Chinese Curse of Life — “May you live in interesting times.”
۸-ꞈ-۸
Harry and the fillies had settled into a simple routine. They spent their nights in Little Whinging and the days at the Weasleys, playing and practicing magic, where, to their great delight, sap was not involved.
The adult Equestrians took turns staying with them in Little Whinging — or Little Whinnying, as Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash liked to call it — almost always with Twilight. Rarity and Applejack took turns. Sometimes one of Scootaloo’s aunts would join them. Twilight and Blueblood spent their days working on the embassy problem, sometimes with the help of one of the others when they weren't working their jobs in Equestria. Or the mares took additional shopping expeditions in both new worlds. Harry didn't have to guess who led the attacks on the bookstores!
Applejack did take Ron into the orchard one day and spent it teaching him about earth-pony magic. Ron didn’t mind the lessons, as he was learning magic that only he, as an earth-pony, could do! And the orchard had never looked better, according to his father.
Their finding and helping to ripen several whortleberry bushes had made Mrs. Weasley very happy. Getting an entire harvest at once instead of across several weeks meant she could make several pies instead of the occasional small tarts she had always had to do before. Not to mention the time saved in trekking back and forth. Ginny was especially pleased, as she and Ron usually had the chore of picking them.
The Weasleys, and the Quidditch team, were curious about ‘Atlantis.’ And the Equestrians were curious about the wizarding world. Questions were asked, and answered. It wasn’t difficult for the Equestrians to not mention the name for their homeland as most everything they talked about was in Ponyville or something they had heard about in Canterlot. Apple Bloom did mention Appleloosa a few times because of her cousins.
Ginny no longer ran from the room when Harry arrived — her pegasus form seemed to have given her new confidence. However, she tended to squeak whenever she came across him unexpectedly. Or he, her.
Two days after Ginny and the quidditch team had learned to switch to their animagus forms, Scootaloo had had a sleep-over with the girls so she could teach them the proper methods to groom and care for their new feathery appendages. Then the four of them had cornered Oliver the next morning and proceeded to embarrass him half to death by showing him, and having him practice on them. The older girls seemed to find it hilarious, to the younger two’s confusion.
It was a necessary skill, after all. And very relaxing when someone else was doing the work. Fingers, Scootaloo discovered, were marvellously efficient at that particular task.
The twins running commentary had been funny, Harry had thought, until Oliver grabbed his wand and chased them away with threats of unrelenting quidditch practices once they got back to school.
Tonight was going to be another sleepover, this time for all of the younger kids — Ron and Harry in one bedroom while the five girls had a different one. Although, if they were going to be using the trunks’ bedrooms because they were bigger than the Weasleys’ bedrooms, was the sleepover going to be at Little Whinging, at the Weasleys, or in between?
۸- ̬ -۸
Miss Arrow opened the door as he walked up to it. “Well, I’m glad you could make it,” she said. She made a show of leaning to the side and looking at his car. “P.C. Barbara Havers couldn’t make it, I assume.” The curtains in the windows were drawn, so he couldn’t see into the sitting-room.
He smiled at her wanly, “No, I didn’t want to disturb her day off.” Actually, she was in a van with P.C. Stanford. They were parked near Little Whinging centre and monitoring the radio wire he was wearing.
“That’s too bad,” the woman said. “It might have been better if she were here, too.” She opened the door wide and gestured he should come in. “Come in, some important people are waiting for you.”
With more than a little trepidation, Castor stepped inside. She pointed into the sitting-room as he walked past her. She closed the door, and followed him into the sitting-room. He stopped and looked at the six people gathered in there. One woman was standing by the fireplace, a slightly older man in his late twenties was seated in the armchair beside the fireplace to Castor’s left, three young women were on a couch against the wall on the right, and a gentleman of about the same age as Castor was standing beside the couch. Searle estimated that the young women were all of barely college age.
Miss Arrow stepped in front of him and bowed to the attractive standing woman, who had waist-length dark-purple hair with a pink stripe slightly to the right of the middle. The woman was wearing an expensive and finely tailored dress, in subtle shades of blue, with white stars scattered across the bottom. Like Miss Arrow’s dress, and the dresses worn by the other women, it reached to her knees in length. She looked at Castor inquisitively and seemed a little nervous.
“Your Highnesses, Ladies, allow me to introduce Detective Inspector Castor Searle,” Miss Arrow said in a formal tone.
Castor felt his eyebrows shoot up.
Miss Arrow turned to face him, “Detective Inspector Castor Searle, I would like you to meet Her Royal Highness, Princess Twilight Sparkle,” she swept her arm to indicate the standing woman.
He nodded at her, “Pleased to meet you, your Highness.” He bowed. He had no idea what these people were playing at, but he could play along until he got the true lay of the land.
“And it is a pleasure to meet you, too, Detective Inspector Castor Searle,” she said, nodding her head back at him. “Please call me Twilight.” She paused a second, then added. “I find the title to be tiresome.”
He nodded again, but before he could say anything, Miss Arrow continued with her introduction. “This is his Highness, Prince Blueblood.”
The man, seated in an old armchair, had long, straight, golden-blonde hair spilling half-way down his sides. He had a bored expression and a tea cup in his hand. He was wearing a tailored charcoal-grey three-piece suit with a rose-red boutonniere. Castor didn’t recognize the flower, but the way it seemed to slightly shimmer in the light was unusual. He also recognized the aristocratic air the man had. This man was noble-born. Or a very good actor. Time would tell.
“A pleasure to meet you, your Highness,” Castor said.
He got a sniff and a bored, “Of course it is,” in response.
“Lady Rarity,” Miss Arrow said next. She indicated a purple-haired beauty wearing a yellow and pink dress sitting on the couch. Lady Rarity had a rose-coloured light shawl that colour-coordinated perfectly with her dress.
He smiled at her and offered a soft, “A pleasure, I’m sure.” He got a demure smile in return and a “Nice to meet you” response.
“Lady Rainbow Dash,” was the woman beside Lady Rarity, another lovely young woman who had, literally, a rainbow of colours in her hair and wore a dress to match. She had a look in her eye, as if she were about to challenge him to a race — which was a very odd thing for Castor to think. “Hiya,” she said before he could open his mouth. He nodded to her and gave her a “Nice to meet you” response
He noticed the edges of Prince Blood’s mouth turn down in disapproval at the young woman’s casual attitude.
“Lady Applejack,” Miss Arrow continued. This pretty, young woman had pale-yellow hair and wore a green dress decorated with apples. And was seated beside the other two women. Incongruously, she was wearing an American-style Western hat. “Howdy pardner,” she said in a thick southwestern American accent, standing and holding out her hand. He shook it, responding with a simple, “Hello, nice to meet you.” She sat back down. He had to wonder about the accent. It was so out of place with the others. And why she was the only one to stand and shake his hand.
“And this is Solicitor Lin Yueshi, Esquire,” she concluded. The man stepped forward and held out his hand. He was probably Chinese, Castor guessed. And not a piker, as his strong grip confirmed. “A pleasure to meet you,” said the man.
“And to meet you,” replied Castor.
The D.I. took a moment to look around the room. It was decidedly out of step with the people in it. It looked more as if an old spinster lived here and not obviously very rich nobles. What was going on here?
Another woman came into the sitting-room from the short hall. She had probably been in the kitchen. She whispered something to Miss Arrow, who made a face of displeasure and turned to Searle. “Excuse me, Detective Inspector Castor Searle, but are you trying to allow others to listen in to our conversation?”
Castor froze in place. They had detected the radio signal? “I’m sorry, what do you mean?”
She nodded at his response, as if she had expected it. “Would you please step outside for a moment and reassure your colleagues that everything is fine? They are getting a bit agitated that your signal cut off the moment you stepped inside.” She gave him a significant look. “We wouldn’t want there to be any incidents, now would we?”
He felt his face heat up as he blushed, he was a soldier and detective, not an undercover agent or spy. He cleared his throat, “Certainly.” He followed her to the door and then stepped outside under her watchful eye.
“P.C. Havers,” he said. “I’m fine. They have some sort of signal-blocking device inside the house, so you’ll just have to be patient.” A police car turned the corner at the far end of the street. He stepped farther out and waved, smiling. The car cruised up and stopped. The officers inside gave him a questioning look. He nodded and gave them the hand signal that he wasn’t in any danger. He used his body to block it from being seen by the woman, who was clearly a bodyguard of some kind. After a long look at him, they nodded and left.
As he stepped past her into the house, Miss Arrow said, “Don’t worry, I would have done the same. Glad to see you’re being professional about things.”
‘Prince’ Blue Blood was giving him the stink-eye when he stepped back into the sitting-room, however. He noticed that Miss Arrow took a position straddling the boundary between the hall and the sitting-room and watching both the front door and him. Much the way a professional body-guard would.
‘Princess’ Twilight Sparkle smiled at him. “Please sit,” she indicated an armchair by the windows and across the room from the fireplace. “I’m happy to see you’re taking this seriously. We’re hoping you’ll be able to help us with a problem.”
“How so?” he said as he sat.
“Well,” she glanced uncertainly at her friends. “As you noticed, the houses on this street are all vacant. So are the ones on the streets around us.” She paused and looked at him.
“Yes, I know.” He knew that pretending he didn’t know more would be a mistake. “A company by the name of ‘Royal Equestrian Properties’ seems to have bought them all. Your company, I would guess.”
She smiled broadly. “Excellent! You’ve done your homework.” She pursed her lips, thinking. “I have to give you a bit of background, and it’s going to be hard to believe. We can prove it all, but that’s for later.”
He nodded.
“We come from a foreign nation, and we want to establish an Embassy with your fine country. The problem is, your Foreign Office refuses to believe we are a sovereign nation wanting to establish an embassy.”
The solicitor was nodding.
“They told us to have an Ambassador from a country we have relations with to make an appointment to meet with the proper authorities. Then she can introduce our Ambassador, who in turn, would then tender our Ambassadorial papers.” She shook her head. “We don’t know any Ambassadors to assist us. Hence, we can’t make an appointment, except at the lowest levels, and that appointment would be several months away, if ever.”
She nodded her head. “We could just appear in front of Buckingham Palace, but that would undoubtedly cause a panic. The same is true if we simply went to the newspapers with our request. Except some people would say it was a hoax, and then things would get tiresome. In both cases, I’m afraid we would be swamped here with curiosity seekers. It could quickly get out of hand. And we might end up with a situation neither of us wants.” She looked back at him.
“That’s why we were so pleased to hear that you had noticed the vacant houses and had stopped by. If you were to relay our request up your chain of command, with appropriate proofs, it shouldn’t take too long before the Foreign Office was informed and then we could present our Ambassadorial papers and get the ball rolling!”
To Castor’s surprise, she actually hopped in place. He stared at her, stunned. For all the expensiveness and fine tailoring of her dress, it was apparent she wasn’t wearing any underwear support. He blinked.
“You represent a foreign government that no one has ever heard of?” he asked incredulously. The Foreign Office had a list of every country in the world. If a solicitor showed up asking to make an appointment for his client to present Ambassadorial papers, all they had to do was look at that list, and set an appointment. If the country wasn’t listed, then they would call it a prank and toss the man out the door. If he made enough of a nuisance of himself, they would arrest him.
She stopped bouncing and sighed.
“Yes. And that’s where it gets complicated.” She looked at him, her head tilted slightly. “When I say a foreign country, I mean a foreign country on a different world. Equestria is the largest country on our world, Equus.”
“World?” He was sure his eyebrows couldn’t be any higher. “Then, how did you get here?” he said sceptically. He almost asked if they had a flying saucer in the back garden.
She waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the forest across the street. “We discovered a portal between our worlds. It’s rather small, just big enough for someone to walk through. But it’s there. That’s why we’re buying all these properties — so no one accidentally comes across it before we’re ready. And we will have ample room to protect it once word does get out.”
He sat, blinking. This was straight out of a science fiction film — Time Bandits or Evil Dead came to mind — without the bizarre appearances and equally bizarre circumstances. Although there were the striking hair colours. “So, you’re aliens?” Except for their brilliantly-coloured hair, they didn’t look any different from any other person he had ever seen. In fact, they looked a lot more mainstream human than some of the people he had run into during his time in Sport and Social!
The one with rainbow-coloured hair snickered. “Oh, yeah,” she said, “that’s an easy one.”
“Dash!” said the Princess, firmly.
“Awww,” Dash cajoled, “Come on, this is boring! Let’s just show him, already.”
The Princess sighed. The Prince rolled his eyes and mumbled something that sounded like “Uncouth commoners.” He looked even more bored than before, giving the impression he would rather be almost anywhere else. And that he was here only because he had no choice in the matter.
“Right,” the Princess said, more to herself than anyone else. She looked back at Castor. “We really are aliens to this world. There really is a portal between our worlds in the forest over there.” She again pointed in that direction. “And we look nothing like we appear to you.” She smirked. “In fact, I’ve been told that we are quite ‘adorable.’”
The solicitor gave him a half-smile. “They are, indeed, adorable,” he said wryly. “I thought they were a telly show pranking me when we first met last month.” He looked levelly at Castor. “They are telling the truth.”
“Can I now?” asked Dash eagerly, “Can I? It’s the quickest way to convince him short of tossing him through the portal like we did Linny here!”
The Princess sighed. “Okay,” she said resignedly, “Go ahead.”
“YEAH!” shouted the woman on the couch.
He stared in complete disbelief as a small horse appeared on the couch where the woman had been sitting, still wearing her dress. She was blue-furred, with a rainbow-coloured mane and tail. She had no sooner appeared, then she launched herself into the air and hovered, her wings flapping lazily. He could see that slits in the back of her dress allowed her wings to come out without hindrance. He leaned back in shock as she flew around the room, breaking almost every law of physics he was aware of — and probably a few he wasn’t. And she couldn’t have been more than a meter tall, from hooves to the top of her head. He had never heard of horses that small.
“Oh, Celestia, this feels good.” She hovered in front of the Princess. “Sitting there without wings was just killin’ me,” she said, rolling her eyes in exaggeration.
He heard a sigh from the couch, drawing his attention. As soon as he looked, Lady Rarity turned into a small white horse with a poufy purple mane and tail. And a horn on her forehead. She was a bloody unicorn! She jumped down from her place on the couch and posed.
His wife was going to think he had gone off his trolley when he told her of this.
Lady Apple Jack laughed at his expression, and transformed into a small orange horse with a pale-yellow mane. She had neither wings nor a horn, but her hat remained in place. And seemed oddly suited for her.
The dresses for the . . . ponies, were draped across their bodies. Their previous knee-lengths meant the fronts of the skirts now hung down almost to the floor.
The Princess spoke again, “And there you see three of the seven major pony races in Equestria: Unicorn,” Lady Rarity lifted her head proudly, “Pegasus . . . ,”
“That’s me,” said the flying horse, zipping over to him and then back.
“. . . and Earth.” Lady Apple Jack, her hat still on her head, just sat on the couch, much as a cat or dog sits upright, and grinned at him.
Flummoxed at what he was seeing, he said the only thing he could think of at the moment to the Princess, “Which one are you?”
She sighed. “I was a unicorn, but I recently ascended to the rarest type of pony in our world — there are only four of us — I’m an alicorn.” Almost reluctantly, she changed into a purple horse with both wings and a horn. “That makes me a member of the Royal family.” She was a little bit larger than the other three.
Castor turn his eyes towards ‘Prince’ Blue Blood. The man rolled his eyes. “I am not an entertainer to perform parlour tricks on request,” he said snootily in a refined accent, “Especially not to commoners.” He took a sip of his tea. “I am a unicorn and a member of the Royal Family. And I am Princesses Celestia’s and Luna’s chosen Ambassador to your barbaric world. That is all you need to know.”
“Blueblood!” the Princess said sharply.
The man tsked, rolled his eyes, and looked up at the curtains. His expression settled back into that of someone incredibly bored. The other horses gave the man disapproving looks and grumbled.
The Detective Inspector turned to look at Miss Arrow.
She grinned and said, “I’m on duty.”
The solicitor came over and held out a cup of tea in a saucer with one hand. “I think you might need this.” When Castor looked at him, he smiled and tilted his other hand so that Castor could see the small shot-bottle of whiskey concealed therein before dropping it into his pocket. Searle looked up at the solicitor, who nodded while arching an eyebrow. “I needed a rather stiff drink after first meeting them, too,” he said softly.
Gratefully, Castor took the proffered saucer and took a sip from the cup. He nodded. “Thanks.” Then he drained the cup. The burn as it went down felt wonderfully bracing.
“Think nothing of it.” He could hear the amusement in the Oriental’s voice.
Castor thought about what he now knew. Aliens. Honest-to-god aliens. And another world accessible through a portal. The implications were so far above his paygrade he couldn’t even calculate where to start! His mind was spinning in so many directions that it might as well have been blank.
And they really were the cutest things he had ever seen.
He heard one of the horses — no, she had said ponies, they were ponies — say, “He’s awfully quiet. Do you think we broke him?”
The solicitor cleared his throat. “No, just thinking deeply.”
Castor looked up from his empty tea cup. “Mind if I ring someone up? Invite them over?”
The Princess looked at him and shook her head, “Nope, go right ahead. We cleared the day for this.”
“Thank you,” he said. He stood and walked over to the telephone and started dialling. He kept his back to the ponies and people, and would try to keep his voice low. The telephone was probably bugged, anyway, he reflected.
Aliens had “landed” in England. And their heads barely reached his belly button. He stared at the staircase wall in front of him as the phone on the other end rang. They were going to throw the entire world into turmoil. And ground zero was right here in the nondescript little town of Little Whinging, Surrey, England. And, god help him, he was in the middle of it.
He had well and truly fallen into the rabbit-hole. The only question left was . . . .
۸-_-۸