Edward Graves: Temporal Detective

Hayden Crawlfield hated the cold and he hated the wet. He was therefore rather unhappy to be trudging through a patch of wet, grassy parkland that was currently enveloped by a thin layer of fog. Even if the fog hadn’t been present it was unlikely that visibility would have improved in any way, not at that time of the morning.

His feet made squelching sounds as water pressed up from beneath them, by his guess the rain couldn’t have stopped more than fifteen minutes ago and judging by the sky it was getting ready to start again. His old bones were beginning to ache from the cold. A man of my age shouldn’t be sloshing through mud like some bloody sewer rat, he thought. I’m One Hundred and eight years old for crying out loud!

“He sure did pick a fine place for this meeting didn’t he?” Crawlfield said begrudgingly with frost clinging to his voice.

The man to his left, Vinnie looked down at him, clearly unsure whether he was supposed to answer this question. Crawlfield dismissed his worries with a wave of the hand and they continued on walking, the silence broken only by the squelching of their feet. Vinnie had risen through the ranks of the organisation fairly quickly and was clearly still intimidated to be in the presence of Mr. Crawlfield.

Now he looked up at the man to his right, a rather tall man, especially compared to Crawlfield’s short stature, named Isaac Flannigan. Now Isaac was a man who knew how this business worked and for nearly twenty years he had served loyally as Crawlfield’s personal bodyguard.

Crawlfield looked towards the lake that they were now approaching; it was large, flat and grey. One might even say that it was picturesque in its morbidity. Of course, that One would probably be a very dull person, the kind that you avoid at parties.

I still can’t understand why somebody with the ability to go anywhere in time and space would chose to have a meeting on such miserable patch of earth at such a miserable time. He was reminded of the works of Poe which he had enjoyed as a boy.

The fog made it difficult to see but as they neared their destination Crawlfield was sure that he could see a man standing by the lake. Suddenly Isaac’s hand came down over Crawlfield’s chest, signalling him to stop. “Wait here Sir; I’d better make a sweep of the area.” Crawlfield brushed Isaac’s enormous hand to the side, “It’s okay Isaac, I know who I’m dealing with. In fact, I want you two to stay here; you’ll proceed no further, understood?”

“But Sir...”

“No buts! I want you to stay here, but make sure you keep an eye on the situation and stay fully alert. Do I make myself clear?”

Both Isaac and Vinnie straightened their backs, “Yes Sir!” they both said in unison.

Crawlfield began trundling down towards the lakefront, trying desperately not to slip, like some sort of drunken penguin. It was even muddier down there and flecks of wet mud continued to splatter onto his fine leather shoes and tailor-made pin-stripe suit. Crawlfield was really starting to get annoyed.

He walked up to the man by the lake; he was facing the water and wearing a black leather coat. A wide-brimmed hat was pulled over his eyes and a red scarf was wrapped around his neck and face. Crawlfield didn’t even know his real name; he had just been told to call him Harbinger. Crawlfield thought that made him sound like an egotistical git.

He stopped right behind Harbinger and made a noise like he was clearing his throat. “Right, now what’s this about?”

The man in the hat and coat glanced over his shoulder at Crawlfield. He was holding something in his hand - a paper bag - which he presented to Crawlfield.

“Care for some bread? I absolutely love feeding these little creatures, don’t you?” His voice was heavy and coarse, surprisingly clear through the thick scarf. Crawlfield was fairly certain that he was changing his voice artificially.

Crawlfield took a step closer to see three ducks which were waiting expectantly just off of the lake shore. He’s got to be joking, thought Crawlfield. Neither man moved for nearly a minute, staring into each other’s eyes the whole time. “No?” asked Harbinger, “well suit yourself.” He turned back to the lake and began throwing pieces of bread into the water, just as another duck came to join the feeding frenzy.

Crawlfield had had enough of this, “Listen here! While you’ve been here feeding your precious little birds, I’ve been trying to get back the artefact that you hired me and my people to retrieve. You assured me that you had a plan and that nothing could go wrong, well guess what? Using the kid as a scapegoat, that was your idea and what do you know? It didn’t work, it backfired! And now, now we have the Temporal Detective to deal with too! This was meant to be a straightforward job with minimal risk to my organisation, that’s what you told me!”

Harbinger smiled beneath his scarf, “Well I guess that this must be the minimal risk that I mentioned.”

Crawlfield moved between the man and the lake, “I’d hardly call Edward Graves ‘minimal risk’. My organisation has had plenty of dealings with him in the past...and the future; He’s not like your average History Enforcer. I’ve heard stories about him from years ago, things that happened to him during the War; things that he did in the War. Hell, I saw some of the things he did in the War.”

“I’m well aware of Mr. Graves’ reputation. But honestly, who did you think the museum would call? Our little thief operates across various centuries, zigzagging through time. The regular Enforcers wouldn’t have a hope in hell of catching him. Only the best could catch him. Mr. Graves is the best. You knew exactly what you were getting yourself into.”

Crawlfield kicked a small pebble into the lake, scaring several ducks. If only all of his battles could be that simple. “Well, we didn’t expect the kid to double cross us. You’d have to be a complete idiot to betray The Black Glove.” Crawlfield raised his black-gloved hand and clenched his fist.

Harbinger threw some more bread towards the ducks, “I didn’t call you here just to hear you complain about your own incompetency in dealing with a simple thief for hire. I called you here to tell you how to deal with the consequences of your incompetence.”

“Well what exactly do you have in mind because I’m starting to have second thoughts about this ‘alliance’ of ours?” Raindrops started to fall onto Crawlfield’s head and shoulders.

Harbinger tipped the paper bag upside down, emptying out the last of the bread crumbs into the water. The ripples on the water were increasing as the rain continued to steadily fall. “Oh trust me Mr. Crawlfield, when I tell you what I have in store for Mr. Graves, then you’re definitely going to want to stick with me.”

The drips of rain had now developed into a steady downpour. “Fine, I’m listening. But we’re getting out of this bloody rain first!”