Sherlock Holmes and The Roswell Incident

Michael Druce

Description

Five years after Jenny Winston vanishes the night of the infamous Roswell UFO crash, Holmes and Watson must solve the mystery of the young woman's disappearance. Immediately they find themselves in a web of Cold War intrigue, stolen secrets, double agents, and double crosses all connected to the mystery of Roswell. Was the crash a weather balloon, as the Air Force insists? Was it a top-secret experiment? Or was it an alien space ship as one witness reported? Until Holmes and Watson learn the truth, no one may be trusted. Joining forces with feisty Agent Piper Sands, Holmes and Watson must stay one step ahead of The Caretaker, a formidable Soviet assassin who also wants to know the truth behind the Roswell incident. Flying along at supersonic speed, Sherlock Holmes and the Roswell Incident builds to a dizzying conclusion at two of the worlds' most famous landmarks.

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 29 mai 2018
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781787052994
• Langue: English

Extrait

Sherlock Holmes and the Roswell Incident
Michael Druce





First published in 2018 by
MX Publishing
www.mxpublishing.com
Digital edition converted and distributed by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
© Copyright 2018 Michael Druce
Cover layout and construction by Brian Belanger
The right of Michael Druce to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any person who does so may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.



Author’s Note
With few exceptions, I am a fan of both the literary and film adventures of Sherlock Holmes. For me, Holmes and Watson are timeless and ageless. Thus, I enjoy the various iterations of Sherlock Holmes stories no matter when and where they are set. I take pleasure in the works of Conan Doyle set in the 1800s as well as the films of Basil Rathbone set during World War II, the Robert Downey Jr. adventures, and the contemporary Sherlock .
In Sherlock Holmes and the Roswell Incident , Holmes and Watson exist in a later time than that of the original stories. My hope is readers are forgiving of my taking such creative license.
When one blends factual events with fiction, persons, places, and events are necessarily subject to cherry picking. Some remain in service to the story, some are embellished, and others are ignored entirely. Where no factual record exists, one may conclude these are the invention of the author. Errors of fact may also be attributed to the author.
M.D.



Forward
On Halloween night 1938, a brash young actor and producer by the name of Orson Welles created a scandal that would have repercussions for years to come. The young Welles and his Mercury Theatre troupe mounted a daring radio production of H. G. Wells’ War of the Worlds . Departing from the narrative of the novel, the production was broadcast as a series of simulated news bulletins. Airing with a disclaimer that the program to follow was a radio fiction, many listeners who tuned in late missed the warning and believed they were listening to an eyewitness report of an actual Martian invasion. The broadcast caused hysteria nationwide and created a public relations nightmare for the Columbia Broadcasting System. The broadcast should have ruined the career of the upstart Orson Welles. Instead, it had quite the opposite effect. Welles expressed the appropriate humility and regret, yet one could not help but sense he was delighted by the attention. Soon thereafter he became the recipient of Hollywood’s Holy Grail, a contract to make motion pictures. For a short time, Welles was proclaimed as Hollywood’s boy wonder . His fame was meteoric. But as often happens in Hollywood, ego, money, and politics took their toll and the young Welles quickly flamed out.
Due in part perhaps to the apprehension of an impending war and the paranoia associated with uncertainty, the fears that had been exposed by the radio broadcast never entirely vanished. They slipped below the surface of the public’s consciousness, and there they would remain until some years hence when they would once again be brought to the surface by what would become known as UFO fever.
How Sherlock Holmes and I found ourselves ensnared in what yet remains the most famous UFO mystery of all time, I now set forth in the adventure I call Sherlock Holmes and the Roswell Incident .



All Good Things
London, 1946
Thursday fortnights for almost a year, Ellen Sharpe arrived by train at Victoria Station. With a large leather bag slung over her shoulder, she exited the train, threaded her way through the cavernous station, and walked five minutes to an obscure little restaurant called The Thesean Thread . The young woman who was considered a regular was warmly greeted by the proprietor and led to her preferred table by the window overlooking Ebury Street. Her habit was to sit with her back to the window to avoid being recognized. Practically speaking, her preferred table allowed easy access to the exit.
A waiter brought Ellen Sharpe’s drink order on a small tray.
She thanked him with a smile and stared into the glass, losing herself in a kaleidoscope of memories.
A shadow fell across the table.
“Do you mind if I join you?”
Ellen Sharpe glanced up at a familiar face. It was not the face she was expecting to see. For an instant, her heart stopped beating. A hundred thoughts raced through her mind. She drew a breath and smiled graciously. Mustering as much poise as she was able, she did not wish to belie the fear that had suddenly taken hold.
“By all means. Please.”
The man sat across from her. As matter of habit, he smoothed his tie, although it wasn’t necessary. He was impeccably tailored.
“Intriguing name, don’t you think? The Thesean Thread .”
“Is it? I can’t imagine I have given it much thought.”
“Reminds one of the labyrinth, Theseus, the Minotaur, Icarus. Suggestive of all sorts of intrigue and possibility, wouldn’t you agree?”
“As I say, it is not something I have considered. I come here because it is quiet and friendly. It is a pleasant atmosphere in which to have a drink after a day of work.”
A waiter approached. “Your usual, sir?”
The man nodded.
The waiter thanked the gentleman and hurried away.
“Creature of habit, I am afraid. Since discovering this quaint little place, I come here often. Funny how predictable we become, how easily we slip into routines.”
Ellen Sharpe managed a thin smile. She moved her leg against the large leather bag resting against the left side of her chair.
“Sometimes others recognize our routines before we ourselves do.”
“I really couldn’t say.”
“Miss Sharpe, isn’t it?”
“Ellen,” the young woman replied.
“Of course.”
The waiter returned with the gentleman’s drink.
“Another?” Ellen’s intrusive guest asked.
Ellen Sharpe shook her head. “Thank you, but no.”
The waiter was dismissed with a curt gesture.
“You are with de Havilland, I believe.”
Ellen nodded.
“You have been with them since ...?”
“Forty-four,” Ellen said quietly.
“Forty-four. Yes, shortly before the end of the war. A lot of fine work being done at de Havilland. Cutting edge, I believe they say, especially the Comet project. A first-class piece of aeronautical technology. During the war, de Havilland saved our proverbial bacon. You know the Germans were keen to wipe that place off the face of the planet. They undertook a sustained campaign to bomb it right out of existence. It was because of that pesky DH 98 Mosquito. It turns out those wooden wonders gave the Germans fits. I don’t suppose you were onboard during the effort to make it appear as if the Germans had succeeded in destroying the de Havilland facility. It was all very theatrical and quite successful, I should say.”
“That happened before my time.”
“Quite right. You are a draughtswoman, I believe.”
Ellen Sharpe nodded.
“That must be extraordinarily interesting, drafting designs, reproducing copies of components. I should think it must be tremendously rewarding work for a young woman such as yourself.”
“Very. I am most grateful to have gotten a berth with the company.”
“But I shouldn’t imagine it pays well.”
“I make ends meet.”
“As it would seem. That is a lovely necklace you are wearing.”
“Thank you.” Ellen’s fingers instinctively felt for the pendant around her neck. The flesh beneath her fingers felt as if it would burst into flame. She wondered if her neck were turning red.
“It must be difficult to afford such a beautiful piece of jewelry on a draughtswoman’s salary.”
“It was a gift.”
“Paris, wasn’t it?”
Ellen’s heart sank.
“Paris, where nothing is more fantastic, more tragic, more sublime.”
Ellen Sharpe knew her Victor Hugo. The moment this unwanted guest had asked to join her, she had hoped against all hope his presence was merely a courtesy or a meaningless flirtation.
“What was his name again?”
Ellen smiled to herself. This encounter was a fishing expedition. They didn’t know her lover’s name; nor would they find out.
The man waited.
Obstinately, Ellen stared directly into the man’s eyes.
“Such nobility in loyalty. And yet loyalty is so often misplaced. No matter. Eventually everything rises to the surface. I gather we will find equally important information in that leather bag at your feet.”
Ellen’s thoughts drifted back to the two brief holidays she had spent in Paris with her Russian lover. He had swept her off her feet and showered her with gifts and affection. He had asked so little in return for a few brief days of bliss.
“Ironically, his majesty’s government has received an order from the Soviet Union for twenty Nene and Derwent engines. What is one to make of that? It makes a perfect mockery of industrial espionage when one’s own government is selling the very secrets one has been smuggling abroad.”
Ellen had nothing to say.
“Should you be curious, the contact you normally meet here has another engagement. But, of course, you have already gathered that. When you think about it, isn’t it all water under the bridge? You really don’t expect to see your paramour again,