The Adventure of the Temple of Ubasti

disappeared. Her Majesty then ordered her to deal with the situation, and while she assigned what few agents and guards had survived the invasion to help the local constables with the search, she and Mr. Holt planned and organized the hunt in the hopes of eliminating the Beast once and for all. Not that that would help little Patsy, but it might prevent any more children from being taken.

  She suspected only Vlad could find her. Not for the first time she keenly felt his loss.

  "What time is it? Over."

  "Three, Madam. Over."

  "Wait another hour, then come and collect us. Make sure you have plenty of hot food and coffee at the pub, and I think I'll take a long bath tonight. Over."

  "Already on it, Madam. Over."

  She grinned. That was Aelfraed, always thinking ahead.

  She opened her mouth to sign off, when she spotted something creeping across the heath towards the ewe. Though the heather partially obscured it, the newly fallen snow made it stand out better than it otherwise would have.

  "Stand by." She reduced the magnification on the scope to widen its field of view and swung it around as she peered through it. Once she spotted the creature, she zoomed in on it.

  "Have spotted the Beast. Repeat, have spotted the Beast. It is taking the bait."

  It was well within the range of the rifle. Technically she should try to get off a shot before it disappeared into deeper cover or ran off, but she decided to study it first.

  "Begin recording. Over."

  "Recording begun. Over."

  "This is very interesting." She paused as she mentally catalogued its characteristics.

  "How so? Over."

  "It looks like a bloody big housecat; triangular ears on the top of the head, apple-shaped face, larger cranium, less pronounced snout, lime-green eyes. That could explain the photos and videos dismissed as showing pets. I estimate the length to be six feet; that could explain the variation in size, based on misjudgment. Color is dark gray; under different lighting conditions it could look black or tan. That could explain the color variation, and its ability to hide so well in this kind of environment.

  "It's not simply a scaled-up version of a domestic feline; there is some added bulk to it, but the proportions are very close. It has rather long legs and a lanky body; more like a cheetah than a leopard, though not as extreme. This thing would be quite fast, and its bulk suggests it would be fairly powerful. I wish I had a camera." She paused again, fascinated by the sight of the phantom cat.

  "Considering that we should soon have an actual body, that seems irrelevant, Madam. Over."

  She smirked as she snapped back to reality. "Yes, of course. It's getting closer; I'm going to try for a shot. Over."

  She slowly reached down beside herself, pulled off the cover, and picked up the rifle as she carefully rose to one knee. Raising it to her shoulder and steadying it on the thigh of the supporting leg, she sighted the Beast through the telescopic site as she thumbed off the safety. It didn't have the magnification of the spotting scope, but at that distance she didn't need it.

  "I'll wait for it to emerge from the shrubs, to get a clear shot, unless it decides to move off. Over."

  "Understood. Over."

  It emerged from the heather into the open ground in front of the rock outcrop in a full crouch. The ewe saw it and started bleating as it tried to run away. It paused; she centered the crosshairs between its eyes. It stood stock still, staring at the helpless farm animal as if readying itself for a charge, and she gradually put pressure on the trigger to fire.

  Then it stood up to its full height and looked around. Puzzled, she glanced up from the scope as she eased off the trigger. "What the..." It almost looked like it was searching for something.

  "Madam?"

  "Stand by." The Beast sauntered out into the open, paused and gazed about, then started prowling again. Did it suspect a trap? she wondered. It came within a fathom of the frantic sheep. It stared straight at it for a moment, then ignored it as it walked past towards the outcrop.

  "Bloody hell. It's not interested in the bait."

  "Maybe it has already eaten?"

  "Perhaps, but I assume not. It's definitely hunting something, just not the ewe. It's coming towards me."

  "Shoot it, Differel, before it gets too close."

  She looked through the sight again, her finger on the trigger, but the cat didn't come straight for her, and it casted about in a leisurely fashion.

  She raised her head. "I don't believe it's hunting me either. I don't think it even knows I'm here."

  "Don't take any chances. Protect yourself."

  He was right, of course, and yet... "No, something's wrong. I think we've made a mistake."

  "How so?"

  Before she had a chance to respond she heard a hiss behind her, like a muted calliope whistle. She pivoted, rising to a squat, and threw off the blanket and netting. Further up the outcrop, no more than fifteen feet away, sat a monstrosity. Looking like a skinned cat, it was a dull brick-red covered in dark reddish-brown squamous patches, with six legs, and two tails that lashed back and forth like cracking whips. It had a single yellow eye just above the bridge of its snout, its teeth were fused upper and lower bony plates that resembled chisels, and its ears were thin and sharply pointed. In lieu of whiskers, however, fan-shaped structures sprouted from its upper lip, its cheeks, and its eyebrows.

  Oh, bugger! "We have made a mistake. I'm staring down a Cat From Mars."

  "St. George defend us!"

  "I certainly hope so, because these four-sixty rounds won't do a bloody bit of good unless I hit it in the eye or the open mouth. I knew I should've brought one of Vlad's anti-material pistols!" Their 20mm shells would have blown a hole in the Martian Cat big enough to drive a lorry through.

  "Tell Mr. Holt to get out here with an L82 ASAP. I'll try to--"

  It leapt at her. She swung the rifle up and fired before it slammed into her. It threw her onto her back; the spotting scope went flying and she cracked her head on the limestone rock. She saw stars, heard Aelfraed calling her name, and then oblivion sucked her down.

  "Madam!" Aelfraed shouted into the microphone. "Sir Differel! Differel!" Only silence came out of the speakers.

  "Shouting won't do any good!" he heard Mrs. Widget say behind him.

  He closed his eyes and forced himself to be calm. "I am well aware of that, Dear Sister."

  "Don't 'dear sister' me, Brother Mine. We can't waste any time, we need to get going."

  He turned and flashed a knowing smile with a raised eyebrow. She was fishing a Parker Hale PDW submachine gun out of the weapons trunk. "'We', Madam?"

  She inserted a 180-round drum magazine into the weapon. "It will take too long to collect the other snipers or recall our people engaged in the search." She cocked the gun and eyed him over her granny glasses. "Differel may not have much time. We're the only ones who can reach her quickly."

  He nodded. "Mr. Holt."

  Differel's Master-at-Arms came in from one of the public house's backrooms carrying a large rifle case. For a moment, he reminded Aelfraed of an American Roaring Twenties gangster.

  "I'm on it," he said as he placed the case on a table. With him was Maggie King. Differel had hired her six months ago, ostensibly to be her lady's maid, but actually she was training her to be her double. She did bear a remarkable resemble to their mistress, almost mirror-perfect, but her hair was brassy blonde and her eyes sky-blue, and she had a more pronounced bosom.

  Not that he paid attention to those sorts of things.

  "I'd like to come, too," she announced. Holt appeared to ignore her, but Mrs. Widget gave her a concerned stare.

  "My Dear," he replied, "we appreciate your loyalty, but you haven't completed your training yet, and there will be considerable danger."

  She gave him a determined look. Another way in which she was exactly like Differel was that she was very strong-willed. "She saved my life, Aelfraed. If there's anything I can do to help, I have to try."

/>   "We could use her help," Holt remarked.

  He smiled. "Of course, we completely understand. Would you give her a hand, Helena?"

  Mrs. Widget removed a British Army L92A1 submachine gun and handed to her along with a 100-round Beta C-Mag drum magazine.

  Meanwhile, Holt removed a British Army L82A1 anti-material sniper rifle from the case. At nearly five long and weighing over thirty pounds, with a recoil like the kick from an angry mule, he was probably the only Order operative who could handle a monster like that, aside from the late Vlad. It was based on the American Barrett M82 and was designed to be used against unarmoured or lightly armoured vehicles, crew-served weapons, ammunition dumps, and fuel depots, though the Order found it worked well against monsters that could shrug off less powerful guns. He selected a clip of Raufoss Mk 211 rounds and inserted it into the breech before slinging it over his shoulder. He also packed four more magazines into his coat pockets. The Raufoss .50 caliber ammunition was as powerful as a 20mm cannon shell. They were themselves a form of miniature shell, containing high explosives, an incendiary mix, and an armour-piercing tungsten penetrator. Short of an anti-tank rocket, the rifle with those bullets was probably the only hand-held weapon that could destroy a Cat From Mars.

  "Mr. Cummings," Holt called as he removed a transponder and slipped it into his pants pocket. A corporal carrying a British Army L85A2 assault rifle came out of the backroom.

  Holt handed him a GPS-equipped tracking device. "Round up the other snipers and proceed to Sir Differel's location. From there you should be able to