Chapter 2 - Trust & Loyalty go Hand in Hand
The taste of tobacco filled the air as George tried to take another bite of his lettuce and cucumber sandwich inside the airport lodge. The room was full of Pan Am awards and images of famous people riding the transatlantic wonder.
Maggie and her daughter had left to catch a train on the other side of London, and George had been told his ride was delayed. He hadn't told Maggie the real reason he came to London before visiting Spencer's castle. He waited patiently for the clock to reach the appointed time.
The room started to feel quiet, and George felt someone was behind him. His heart started to race, and he could feel the taste of a warm breath on the back of his neck.
"Mr Trevor, how was your flight?" a voice said.
"It was fine, thank you. And to whom am I speaking?" George said to the tall man with a long nose that seemed to pull his eyes further down his face.
"Listen to this yank, trying to speak the Queen's," the man scoffed. "To whom am I speaking," he mimicked, his voice filled with laughter and disdain.
"Yes, 'whom' would be you, the object, and 'speaking' would be the verb. The sentence is a question," George said, unsure about who the man was.
"You sound like an English professor. I thought you were an architect," the man said, knowing all about George Trevor.
"You seem to know an awful lot about me. Who, may I ask, are you?"
The man showed his badge, which read Detective Inspector Forester. "I'd like to ask you a few questions about your stay in London. Please come with me."
There was an unusual feeling about this from George. He knew something wasn't right. Something had gone wrong somewhere. His palms started to sweat and his skin began to change a pale white.
George followed to a place where the detective could speak to him privately. Opening the door to the office, George saw the uncomfortable seat he was being directed to. The door closed, and George let out a sigh of relief.
"What was with the theatrics?" George asked, able to breathe properly again.
"Sorry, Mr. Trevor, but you never know who's watching," the detective said, undoing the bottom button of his jacket.
"Who would be watching?" George asked, knowing very little about the telegram he received. It was to meet with an officer from the London constabulary to discuss helping to understand Doctor Oswell E. Spencer's activities.
"Doctor Spencer is a very dangerous man. We believe he is conducting illegal experiments on people here in the UK," Forester said, showing images of missing people in and around the UK connected to Oswell.
"I'm just here to discuss building a mansion based on his home, which I haven't even seen yet," George said, describing what he did for a living and the company he worked for.
"Mr. Trevor, you're more than just an architect. You've built homes that would give Doctor Dennis Dremour a run for his money," Forester said, referring to an archaeologist from a 1930s serial he watched when he was younger. A man who went on adventures with his whip, satchel, and hat, raiding tombs and solving puzzles to unlock their secrets. "I wonder if someone will make that into a blockbuster picture."
"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," George scoffed. The detective seemed to be engaging in flights of fancy, something George had neither the time nor the passion for.
"I want you to tell me what you find inside Doctor Spencer's castle. Get what you need and get out of there," the detective said, explaining the plan and how best to execute it. "If you find evidence of human testing, call me at the station."
This wasn't making any sense to George. He didn't feel like he'd been told everything.
"Of course, but I'm just building a house in the mountains," George said convincingly. "Sometimes these rich aristocrats want a place to hide their fortunes or escape from reality. I'm sure it's nothing more than that."
"I've already told you, he's a dangerous individual. He will stop at nothing to get what he wants," Forester reiterated how important this was to the police and George in uncovering Spencer's nefarious plan.
"What plan? I'm not privy to that. He probably won't even let me see what he's working on," George sounded high-strung. This sounded farcical, as though Oswell was being targeted for something he had nothing to do with.
George felt there was a threat, but not from Oswell, more from who Oswell was. A visionary, an elitist, and a man who would stop at nothing to reach his end game. Some people saw medical marvels as heresy, others as miracles. For George, he didn't care about any of that. He just wanted to build a house that would be better than anything he'd done before. He needed to know what Oswell truly wanted and couldn't wait to see the castle Oswell called home.
"How did you contact me, why am I even doing this?" George asked, wondering why he even followed the telegram. Curiosity often got the better of him and he was intrigued to know where it might take him.
"Remember, Mr. Trevor, watch your back. Things aren't always what they seem," Forester's words of warning fell on deaf ears. George thought this was ridiculous, that nothing would harm him, that he was perfectly safe.
"Safe travels to Scotland, Mr. Trevor. Be sure to soak up some Great British culture and keep out of trouble," Forester said, letting George go.
A few moments later, the door to the office opened, and Karen Wesker entered the room. "So, how did it go?" she asked, lighting up a cigarette.
"He's going to do just fine," Forester said, joining her for a smoke.