Chapter 1: Thief in the Night

Arkham, Massachusetts. Friday, November 21, 1975.

Neal's breath came out in a strangled gasp as he was slammed flat on his back. For a moment, the walls of the Miskatonic University gym spun lazily around him as the barbells on the wall mounts performed a slow, jerky dance.

Sara's head popped into view over his head, an annoying smile on her face. "Oops. I didn't realize you'd be such an easy mark." She held out a hand to help him up.

He clasped her hand, faking pants as if he were out of breath. "Sure you did," he wheezed. "This is what . . . the third time? You made your point. I'm as bad at self-defense . . . as you are . . . at singing." He rubbed his side with his left hand and grimaced.

Her smug look was immediately replaced by concern as she leaned closer. "Did I hurt you?"

Once her eyes were focused on his side, he yanked her onto the mat with a loud and eminently satisfying ker-plunk.

Sara glared at him indignantly. "That's cheating!"

She started it. How was he supposed to focus on judo when she wore that tight tank top and leggings? When Sara offered to give him a lesson, he'd expected her to show up in baggy trousers and a kimono jacket. She excused it as being required attire for a fake girlfriend when he teased her.

Because, of course, there was no place more romantic than the university gym for a fake date. On a Friday evening, they had the wrestling room to themselves. All they needed were candles, a bottle of wine, and fewer throws. Sara could also lay off the fake date references.

Knowing that it was his fault only served to increase Neal's frustration. He'd willingly agreed to her offer to be his fake girlfriend. Now she was settled so comfortably in the role, he doubted he could ever convince her to view him differently.

If he viewed it rationally, Sara's strategy was the correct one. Like Peter, Elizabeth, and Mozzie, she'd volunteered to help him confront the threat of a hostile alien species. This was hardly the moment to pursue a romantic relationship. So stop tormenting me with tank tops.

When Sara offered to coach him, learning a few self-defense moves sounded like a good idea. She'd been studying martial arts since she was a freshman at college. For the past month, she'd been taking advanced classes along with Detective Diana Briscoe of the Arkham Police Department.

Neal had never studied any kind of wrestling or self-defense, and after two months of unplanned adventures, he was clearly past due. But it was also plain he wouldn't be an overnight success.

"You've forgotten what it's like to be a beginner," he pointed out. "You should go easier on me."

"Is that what you'll tell some thug from the Starry Wisdom cult when he grabs you on the street?" She slapped her forehead with her hand. "What was I thinking? I bet you're right! I'm sure he'll let you off the hook when he hears you're a novice. You can tell him to come back next year."

Sara raised a sensitive subject. Chad Lawson, a bully Neal knew from his childhood and who was now a cult member, had mugged him a few weeks ago. "The cult's no longer active in Arkham. After the police raid, there's been no sign of resurgence."

"But you don't know what the situation is like in Lyon. Hoodlums could be on every street corner." Sara sat next to him, crossing her legs. "With only a few days to prepare, we don't have the luxury of going slow. Honestly, you're not quite as horrible as you think you are."

Neal didn't feel like debating the degree of his ineptitude. "Did you have any trouble getting time off from the newspaper?"

She shook her head. "I simply told my boss the truth. We need to go to France because a space alien had written a message onto an armillary sphere once owned by the Renaissance scientist Heinrich Agrippa. When I explained that you were carrying the DNA of two alien species and that the world-famous archaeologist Peter Gilman and noted astrophysicist Dante Atwood were joining the effort, Larry immediately agreed that my presence was essential."

Neal restrained his joshing until she'd finished. "What did you really say?" They were scheduled to be gone over the Thanksgiving weekend. Sara was a rookie journalist with the least amount of seniority at the paper. Since she'd already used up her vacation days, the odds of her being able to go along had initially seemed slim to none.

"I didn't even have to ask," Sara said complacently. "Gideon had already contacted Larry. He explained that he was funding a series of archaeological expeditions and he'd like me to be present to document the discoveries. When Larry heard that Gideon would pay all my expenses and that the Arkham Gazette would have first rights to publish any discoveries, how could he refuse?"

"And I assume you didn't mention that Gideon Talmadge, renowned global financier and Miskatonic University benefactor, is actually an extraterrestrial?"

"That didn't seem wise," she admitted, breaking into a smile.

"Good thinking."

She rose to her feet. "Break time over. By the end of the evening, I want you to be able to toss me as easily onto the mat as I can you. Don't think of me as Sara Pabodie, your fake girlfriend and private investigator. Picture me as Chad Lawson."

Neal's emotions must have projected onto his face for she quickly added, "I know you don't like thinking about him. I don't either, but he's still out there. The Starry Wisdom cult may have marked you with one gigantic bullseye."

During the remainder of the lesson, Sara concentrated on defensive postures and basic footwork. He particularly appreciated learning how to fall correctly. He sensed he'd be doing a lot of that. At the conclusion, Sara pronounced herself satisfied with his progress. To his eyes, he hadn't advanced much. It was plain that having alien DNA didn't bestow any talent toward being a ninja warrior.

When he returned to his loft in June's house, Neal had a difficult time focusing on the stack of student assignments he should be correcting. Sara would come over on Sunday for her first music lesson. He and June had schemed to combine it with a cooking lesson. They'd decided on a simple dish but after the shellacking he'd received this evening, it would only be fair to reciprocate with something equally challenging. Beef Wellington could be entertaining.

And, as long as he was on the subject of being fair and objective, he should stop bemoaning Sara's lack of interest in him. How could she possibly view him as a potential dating prospect after hearing he'd been genetically modified with unknown repercussions? Neal had been bred with one goal in mind—to help protect Earth from the Ymar. His fate was now irrevocably linked to a friendly species whose representatives had been working in Arkham since he was a child. Perhaps that was what made Sara so appealing. She represented the safe world that was no longer his. That was hardly a valid reason to involve her in his uncertain future.

Neal picked up his red pencil and resumed reading his students' attempts to translate a passage from Beowulf. They'd been campaigning for him to teach a seminar exclusively on the epic poem. He'd already spoken with Marjorie Whipple, his department head about it. He hoped he'd be around to give it. But the upcoming term, like everything else in his life, was up in the air at the moment.

It was late by the time Neal called it quits for the night. The next day, he'd meet Peter for an early morning run along the Miskatonic River if it wasn't snowing. The sky was already overcast. There'd be no stargazing for Mozzie tonight.

. . .

"Yeoooowl!"

As Neal struggled to open his eyes, cold furry paws landed on his chest and a rough tongue began scraping his chin. There was enough light coming in from the skylight over his bed to recognize Betelgeuse. He and Mozzie's tabby were old friends, but the cat had never visited him at the loft. Betelgeuse paused to let out another mournful yowl.

"What's wrong, fella? Did you get locked out of Mozzie's place?" Neal glanced around the loft as he stroked the tabby. The cat's fur was cold from being outside. The patio door was ajar. He must have left it unlocked and Betelgeuse somehow managed to pry it open. Mozzie had a suite on the top floor of the science building at the university. Normally, the tabby was only outdoors when he joined Mozzie on the roof for stargazing sessions.

"Enough, I'm awake." Neal's initial grogginess had been washed away by the bath he'd received from Betelgeuse's tongue. The cat stared at him expectantly, swishing his tail impatiently. Suddenly an image popped into Neal's mind of Mozzie lying face down on the floor of his office. A second later it was gone.

Neal sat up, stunned. Was that a vision or his subconscious trying to figure out the puzzle he'd been handed?

Betelgeuse cocked his head and growled.

"What are you trying to tell me?" On Merope, there'd been telepathic animals. Had Betelgeuse sent him the image? If so, it was a one-shot occurrence. The tabby rubbed against him but he didn't receive any impressions.

Neal flung off the covers and headed for the phone. Mozzie worked at night. He was probably still awake even though it was two in the morning. After learning that all was well, Neal could go back to sleep and return Betelgeuse later in the morning.

But any lingering sleepiness vanished when Mozzie didn't answer. Neal's stomach clenched into a hard knot. Mozzie couldn't be on the roof, not with the storm clouds overhead. It might be a false alarm, but Neal didn't want to take the risk. He pulled out the university directory for the phone number of the campus police.

Betelgeuse paced the floor, flicking his tail nervously, while he spoke with the security dispatcher. It took several minutes to convince her that he wasn't a student playing a prank and that Professor Atwood could have suffered an accident.

After obtaining her promise to send an officer to check, Neal flung on a pair of jeans, grabbed Betelgeuse, and darted downstairs. He didn't awaken June but borrowed the keys to her Chevy for the drive to the campus.

By the time he arrived at the Derleth Hall of Science, an ambulance with flashing lights was parked outside the building. He raced up the five flights of stairs with Betelgeuse galloping beside him. When he arrived at the suite, the door was open. He could see Mozzie being strapped onto a gurney.

A campus guard stopped him at the doorway, demanding identification.

Neal introduced himself and fished out his wallet to show him his ID. "I was the one who called security. How is Professor Atwood?"

One of the emergency techs, a young stocky woman with short black hair, looked over at him. "He's still unconscious. He has quite a bump on the back of his head. At a minimum, he sustained a concussion."

"How did you know to call us?" the guard asked.

"His cat woke me up in my apartment. I was concerned something might be wrong." The guard eyed him skeptically but luckily didn't press. Neal swiftly changed the subject. "Any signs of a break-in?"

"None. The door was locked when we arrived. I used a security key to enter."

"You better check the roof. Mozzie often leaves the door at the top of the spiral staircase unlocked."

"We'll do that," the guard assured him, "but more likely he simply fell and hit his head. With the amount of stuff he has crammed into his office, it would be easy to trip on something. That blackboard, for instance, is an accident waiting to happen." He nodded toward a board on wheels which was covered with equations.

Neal scanned the room and his heart began to hammer. "Someone was here." Despite the seeming amount of clutter, Mozzie had developed a system to deal with the chaos. To the guard, it might look like the typical untidy office of a scatterbrained professor, but to Neal, it was clear there had been a struggle. Books had been knocked off his desk. Papers were scattered on the floor.

The most compelling bit of evidence was what wasn't there—the armillary sphere. Mozzie always kept it on a shelf behind his desk and now it was gone. Had he been attacked by a ghast? One had made an earlier attempt to steal it.

Neal fought the encroaching panic. If a ghast had been here, Mozzie would likely have visible wounds. A couple of days ago, they'd discussed moving the sphere to the library vault for safekeeping. Perhaps Mozzie had gone ahead and simply neglected to tell him.

If not, they could all be in serious trouble.

Notes: In the next chapter, Neal discovers the armillary sphere isn't the only item missing.

In 2021, I revisited this story and expanded the content. As a result, some of the reviews no longer match the chapter references.

Introduction to Arkham Files for new readers: This series is part of the Caffrey Conversation AU created by Penna Nomen. FBI Agent Diana Berrigan began writing Arkham Files as part of a strategy to capture a cybercriminal nicknamed Azathoth. Most of her characters are drawn from the world of White Collar and retain their same given names. The series is a meta work. Events and characters in Arkham Files are sometimes referenced in the Caffrey Conversation stories and are a factor in plot development. The cybercriminal Azathoth made his first appearance in the story The Woman in Blue. Diana's stories are mentioned for the first time in The Dreamer. You may wish to check out the resources on the Arkham Files page of the blog I co-write with Penna: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation.

Visuals and music: The Lion's Lair board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website