The Alembic Valise by John Luxton

with you.”
    Joe leant over the table and at that moment the buzzer sounded again.
    “Dear Christ! Who can that be? Nobody just drops by in London.”
    He looked at Mai and saw that she was laughing and shaking her head.
    “See who is at the door or on the plank or whatever you call it, Joel.”
    A girl’s voice came through the speaker when Joel pressed the button.
    When Joel saw who his visitors were, his exasperation at being interrupted whilst trying to propose to Mai ebbed away, and he wondered what this odd pair standing on his deck in the gathering dusk might want.
    “If you have information”, said Joel. “Shouldn’t you be telling your father?”
    Joel saw something pass between his visitors that caused him to relax.
    And with a smile he said, “Come in its cold out here, welcome aboard Alembic Valise Lorna, and what is your friend’s name?”

    “Yes, we definitely need to talk to this guy Seraphim.” Joel had said later as they had been sitting around the table pooling their information.
    Both Lorna and Mai had remained silent, as Deacon had explained what had happened on that foggy night at the boathouse.
    “Shouldn’t we be letting the police sort this out?” said Mai finally.
    It was Lorna who spoke up. “But until they find Seraphim, they will probably hold Deacon. That could be weeks. Besides he knows where Seraphim hangs out. Don’t you Deacon?”
    “Yes, there is a club in Brixton that one of his old war buddies runs.”
    “What kind of club?” asked Joel.
    “A drinking club for KLA veterans,” said Deacon pursing his lips.
    “Are you out of your bloody minds?” They all looked at Mai, who had spoken. “This is a dangerous guy; you even think he might have attacked Dave. And yet you want to go and track him down.”
    Joel had never heard her swear before. She did have a point. Nobody said anything. Mai then stood up still looking angry.
    “If you boys want to play Cowboys and Indians then go ahead, but do be careful.” She then turned to Lorna. “I’m going to take you home, I’m sure you have homework to do.”
    Lorna started to protest, then seeing the steely glint in Mai’s eyes she mumbled her assent and began to put her coat on.

    The white enamel bucket had a lid with a black plastic knob in the middle and a wire handle that was cutting into the palm of his hand. Dave stopped to transfer his load from his right hand to his left and on straightening up groaned inwardly when he saw that the level-crossing barrier up ahead was down and the twin lights mounted on either side flashing alternately.
    The level-crossing barrier being down was a constant source of anger and puzzlement. There was only one train a week, for crying out loud! And this was the middle of nowhere. No houses, just this dusty track with weeds growing on either side.
    The contents of the bucket dictated that it was necessary to keep moving. They stank. Even with the lid on. If there was a slight head breeze and you kept moving it wasn’t too bad, Dave had discovered. But if you stopped walking then pretty soon you were enveloped in a stinking miasma.
    But today, apart from feeling a little odd on the earlier part of the journey possibly from those Chilean blueberries that he had for breakfast, everything was going well. The brisk breeze blowing off the plain, the tightly fitting lid of the bucket, the correct paperwork in his back pocket, these were all good signs. Even the sight of the lowered barrier ahead did not faze him. He knew that if it was up as he approached it usually went down just as he got there. So the possibility that it might do the opposite today encouraged him to trudge onwards.
    Then as he drew closer he saw something that made his blood run cold. In all the years of carrying out this arduous but worthy task he had never met another solitary soul along the way, and yet today he could see that there was someone waiting on the other side of the track. And even more worryingly, there was