Champions Game

Tues 13/11/90

01.35 - Charles, Jane and I went to the local pub in Haddington, chatting to the locals, seeing what they remember about the Harris family. Nothing very much of any use, of course, although it can probably be scraped together into a human interest story for one of the lighter tabloids.

We called a taxi from the pub in front of loads of witnesses and got it to drop us back here at Jane's place.
Now, having set up our alibi, we're off back to Haddington to break into the Harris's house. We must be insane.

05.28 - Oh God. It was all true. Poor Neil. His poor sister...

Jane found a lose floorboard in one of the bedrooms and under it there were photos and... other things... I don't know what to call them.... horrible things...
I wish I hadn't seen them.

Charles made an anonymous call from the village phone box tipping the police off. He got something out of his bag, he said it distorted his voice. Don't know what it was.

11.04 - Just back from the hospital.

I sat and talked to Neil, or Neil's body anyway, for a while. Don't know if he could hear my voice.
All the time I was talking to him about silly stuff, what's happening with the football teams, who is arguing with who on the council, what stories I've got lined up with 'Hello', and I couldn't stop thinking of what he went through.
He's so young.

He's worked here for months and he was quiet and timid, but I never really thought anything of it, just that he was young and shy. Shouldn't I have seen that there was something so terribly wrong?

Couldn't any of us have seen something, suspected something, done something to help?

13.45 - B***d Graham got a front page story. It's about increased admissions to the Royal Ed. Reading between the lines it seems that a lot of people have been suffering nightmares lately. We're not the only ones.

Have checked other cities, and it seems to be just Edinburgh that's affected - there's no increase in Glasgow or London, or anywhere else I can find.

No change in admissions to Infirmary or other conventional hospitals.

17.12 - Went out and did a vox pop on Princes St, claiming it was for an article on the meaning of dreams. About one person in five that I spoke to had had really bad nightmares since Monday. None of them were to do with Neil and his family, apart from Charles's and mine, they all seemed to be specific to the individuals.

22.57 - Have checked the distribution of nightmares and it seems to be a circle centred just South of the Royal Mile, below the castle and near the Royal Infirmary. Covers just about the whole of Edinburgh and a few outlying areas.

Saw Drongo at the pub. He was drinking heavily, trying to forget a nightmare he'd had, but wouldn't tell me what it was about.

Wed 14/11/90

11.22 - Collected soil and air samples from the castle in case it was something to do with the explosion at the castle. Charles drove out to local reservoirs to collect water samples from them, and we took samples of the tap water at both our flats.

15.05 - Bertie's such a sweetie, he did all the tests we wanted really quickly. I hated giving a blood sample, though. Ick!
Chemistry Department is quite an interesting place. Could probably get a human interest story out of it some time later on.

Nothing showed up in any of the samples - no hallucinogens or poisons anywhere.

Bertie suggested trying the Parapsychology Department, so we're heading over there now.
Charles has also checked for noise levels, odd sounds and high pitched stuff (the sort that sends dogs crazy) using his equipment but he didn't find anything. Anyway, it's not dogs that are going crazy here, it's people.

19.43 - Interesting chaps at the Parapsychology Department. Might get another human interest item out of them too, although I'd need to find a paper that wouldn't re-edit it to a 'Loonies Funded By Our Taxes' story.

Reginald, the chap Bertie recommended, suggested that the nightmares could be caused by telepathy, dream walking, aboriginal magic and a few other things - although I think they're all fundamentally the same thing, just with different names.

23.33 - Just remembered, we hadn't checked out that ticket stub that Jane found at the Harris's place.
Must do that first thing tomorrow.

Thur 15/11/90

7.15 - Ticket stub is for the Nirvana Club on Broughton St. A gay club. I've a vague memory that Stephen Bowles the designer goes there, so we should be able to check it out tonight. Will wait until a more civilised hour before making phone calls, though.
There's a phone number written on the back of the stub - looks like a Mercury number - and there's the name 'Gamaliel'.
No Gamaliels in the phone book or the Yellow Pages as far as I can see.

11.36 - Have arranged to see Stephen at the club tomorrow night.
Now have to somehow get Charles and Drongo to conform to the dress code. Charles shouldn't be too difficult, but even getting Drongo and some of his clothing clean is going to be a huge job - let alone getting him to look vaguely suitable.

17.04 - No change in poor Neil's condition. Sat with him for an hour anyway and rambled on about fashion.

Sat 17/11/90

02.09 - Just back from the club. Charles made a bit of an effort to mingle, but Drongo just hid in a corner all evening - probably for the best overall, otherwise he might have hit someone.
Anyway, checked out the locals and found out that Gamaliel's real name is George Lindsay. Stephen says he's bisexual and 'a bit of a s**t, but very good looking'. Apparently he used to go to Nirvana, but set up his own club sometime around January. It's called Gomorrah and is in the Undercity. They get to it through the library on George IV bridge (security guards presumably bribed to allow it).
It's a seriously nasty fetish place. Rumours of animals. Definitely not welcoming to journalists.

14.24 - Dug some dirt on Herbert and he managed to get us an invitation for tonight through some of his friends.
The dress code is going to be something of a challenge, to say the least.

Sun 18/11/90

03.44 - I feel dreadful. Can only remember odd snatches of events from this evening. Drugs in the drinks maybe? I thought we'd been careful enough, but obviously we weren't.
George Lindsay is a seriously frightenning man.

15.19 - Well, according to Bertie I wasn't drugged last night.
I still can't remember what happened exactly, though.
We got there not long after 11 o' clock and went in to the Undercity through the library basement.
Horrible place. There was someone with electrodes on him, screaming. I didn't know what to do.
George Lindsay came up to us and asked me what I wanted. He seemed to know who we were. He was a thin, pale man, and somehow he just looked evil.
My memory gets fuzzy then - the room was sort of spinning and I couldn't seem to speak properly.
I think he said the nightmares were caused by Neil, and he asked if I wanted them to stop. I don't recall what happened from then until we were outside the club.

Wed 21/11/90

11.32 - Dammit. I've got a 3pm deadline on this piece on Princess Diana's new outfit and I've been staring at a blank screen for two hours trying to remember what George Lindsay said and what happened at that awful club.
Will go and get a coffee and hope that clears my head.
I can't afford to miss deadlines.

15.01 - "... a small change of direction, not a radical step away from the Diana we all know so well, but enough to make us sit up and pay attention."

Done it.
More coffee.

And what's happened to Bob? I'm sure he was due back today.

Fri 23/11/90

9.15 - Oh no.
Not Bob too...

Must try and keep calm.
He's not dead. He will not be dead.
He's just a couple of days late filing a story, and there's at least a dozen harmless reasons why he might not have phoned and let us know what the problem was.

I just can't forget seeing poor John, though...

No. I mustn't think like that.
Bob is missing - that's bad, but it doesn't mean he's dead.

Had a call from Bob's source asking if we knew where he was.
Apparently Bob was in New York investigating a group called Pravasudia (Justice) who are suspected of involvement in the assassination of a Politburo member earlier this month.
According to Bob's source he was afraid that some lunatic fringe in the US was interfering in Soviet politics. Anyone with half a brain would see that increasing the level of paranoia within the government of a nuclear superpower is a really bad idea, but...

Okay, so source was saying he last heard from Bob last week, either the 16th or the 17th. He last phoned here on the 19th, and said he had a few loose ends to tie up but that he'd be back soon.
Of course we thought he was still in London, but since the line was crackling I guess he was already in New York.
So he's been missing for up to four days.

Sat 24/11/90

10.36 - Plane was only forty minutes late taking off. This is probably some kind of record for British Airways.
Sandwiches look like they're up to two days old, but at least the vodka's okay.
Charles got his bag of tricks through customs without any trouble.

14.00 - Checked in to hotel Bob was staying in. No ensuite bathrooms and no restaurant. Ick.
Receptionist said she last saw Bob on the morning of the 20th.

Sun 25/11/90

01.20 - So tired I can barely think. Been awake for nearly 24 hours. I really hate jetlag.

Jane broke in to Bob's hotel room and we found his notebook as well as a card for a nightclub called 'Fate'.

11.47 - Diner across the road does pretty decent coffee at least.
News item on a group called Justice. They've kidnapped a man called Yuri Krylov, claiming he's really a Jermija Bogdaskavitch who worked with the SS during the war and was involved in the massacres at Babi Yar.
That's the group Bob was investigating.

Have checked out Bob's notebook. He'd reached a dead end on the Pravasudia investigation and was checking out a couple of other stories. The last date in his notebook is the 20th.

The 'Fate' club will be on this Tuesday.

Tues 27/11/90

17.04 - Well, that's the last of the leads on Bob checked out, and we don't seem to be getting anywhere. Just the club still to go.

Looked at photos of Yuri Krylov and Jermija Bogdaskavitch - they're very similar but not the same. Jane pointed out that Bogdaskavitch has a scar and Krylov doesn't. Perhaps they're relatives?
Tried to get the stuff about the scar out on the wires, in the hopes of giving Krylov some chance of being released, but the story is a very small one, so I'm not sure if it'll make the papers at all.
Poor man. He must be terrified. If he is innocent then they're doing a truly terrible thing to him.

18.21 - Finding an Armarni suit to fit Drongo was a challenge. I hope he doesn't ruin it - I already owe Jean-Paul a huge favour for this. Charles and Jane much easier to find clothes for. I think we'll get in to the club okay.
Must remind them to take their watches off - better to have none than to have cheap ones.

Susan Phillips - former fashion and beauty journalist, currently trying to move in to hard news stories (and not just as a way of annoying her ex-boyfriend).
Blonde, 6'2" tall in her stiletto heels and with a tendency to find herself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Bob Fudge - cynical serious news reporter, unpopular with some important political figures. Interested in the occult.

Drongo, or, as he is known on more formal occasions, "The Accused", spends his time drinking; modifying, repairing and occasionally riding motorbikes; listening to loud rock music and getting in to fights. He's employed as a technician and bouncer by the news agency and various Fringe shows.
His mother calls him James Bell.

Jane Stuart - paparrazzi photographer, unpopular with many celebrities, has an alcohol problem.

John Huang (deceased) - reporter, known for his integrity, but also, unfortunately, for his belief in UFOs

Charles Reynauld - former reporter of international criminal affairs. Taking a break from chasing Columbian arms dealers in favour of a more peaceful life dealing with Glasgow gang wars.

Martin Farmer - industry and industrial relations journalist.

John Cassidy - anthropoligist, reporter and Renaissance man... Has travelled extensively in the Third World (mainly to avoid university funding authorities and his ex-wife).