The Martian Ambassador by Alan K Baker

to leave the machine and smash the scrying glass, just as you did, you Ladyship, which would sever the link with the Æther, and prevent the entity from fully entering this world.’
    ‘In short,’ said Blackwood, ‘you’re saying that this machine was sabotaged.’
    ‘Precisely, sir.’
    ‘By whom?’
    Mrs Cottingley turned from the counter to face them. ‘The answer is quite obvious, my good sir. By one of the De Dananns... although I must admit that the thought is absolutely outrageous.’
    ‘I must agree with Mrs Cottingley,’ said Shanahan ruefully, ‘on both counts.’
    The proprietor shook her head and sighed. Suddenly, she seemed on the point of tears. ‘This will be the ruin of Cottingley’s.’
    ‘Not necessarily,’ said Blackwood.
    She glanced at him, a glint of hope in her eye.
    ‘There is every reason to suppose that this was a one-off event.’
    ‘Do you think so, sir?’ said Mrs Cottingley. ‘May I enquire as to how you–’
    ‘No, you may not. For now, I think we will leave the matter here, and I will take no further action against your establishment.’ Blackwood turned to Shanahan. ‘How would you like to take a little sabbatical from your duties here?’
    ‘A sabbatical, sir?’
    ‘I may have some use for you, and I assure you I’ll make it worth your while.’
    ‘Why, I’d be delighted, sir!’ enthused Shanahan, as he flitted back and forth in front of Blackwood’s eyes. ‘That is... if Mrs Cottingley has no objections.’
    ‘Oh, I’m sure she’ll have none at all... will you, madam?’
    ‘None whatsoever, sir,’ said the proprietor, still counting her blessings.
    ‘Then it’s settled. Come along!’
    And with that, Blackwood turned and strode out of Cottingley’s Cogitators Limited.

CHAPTER THREE:
On the West Country Omnibus
    ‘What kind of work did you have in mind for me, sir?’ asked Shanahan, who had seen fit to perch himself on Blackwood’s left shoulder as they sat in the cab, headed for Paddington Station.
    ‘Lady Sophia and I are going on a trip to Somerset, to interview a man who is almost certainly a material witness in this case – if not a direct participant in it – and while we are there, I would like you to return to Faerie and see if you can dig up some information on what happened to the dream catcher in my cogitator.’ Blackwood craned his neck to look at the Helper, feeling like a pirate conversing with his parrot. ‘If it was sabotage, I want to know who did it, and on whose orders. Can you handle that, Mr Shanahan?’
    ‘Indubitably, sir!’ cried the Helper.
    ‘One other thing: how will I call you if I need you?’
    Shanahan shrugged. ‘Simply say my name, with your voice or your mind, and ask me to come, and I shall arrive forthwith.’
    ‘Very good. Off you go.’
    Shanahan bowed, launched himself from Blackwood’s shoulder and vanished through the roof of the cab.
    Sophia glanced at the Special Investigator and noted his pensive frown. ‘If someone did arrange for your cogitator to be damaged, what does it mean?’ she asked. ‘What is the larger picture that is being painted?’
    ‘I’ve been wondering that, myself, Sophia, and I don’t like where my train of thought is leading,’ Blackwood replied. ‘The timing of all this is strange – off-kilter, you might say. I have no doubt that I was targeted for death because of my involvement in the investigation of Lunan R’ondd’s assassination. And yet, I bought the cogitator a few hours before Grandfather summoned me and put me on the case.’
    ‘That is rather odd,’ Sophia agreed.
    ‘Shanahan said that the De Danann operators don’t stay in cogitators while they’re switched off...’
    ‘That’s right: they only return from Faerie when the machines are activated.’
    ‘So it would presumably have been a simple matter for one of the De Dananns – or an entity masquerading as a De Danann – to enter the machine after Shanahan and his colleagues had completed the