D. MacHale - The Pilgrims of Rayne

I continued my research into what may have happened to Mark Dimond. When you were here, we learned that he disappeared sometime in November. I now know more and must share it with you.

First, I learned that the company KEM Limited was based in London, England. KEM stood for Keaton Electrical Marvels. Company officials there were the first to have reported Mark Dimond missing. He was due to meet with them in London on November 13, 1937. He didn’t attend that meeting and was never seen again. There is no mention as to what may have happened to him. Foul play was suspected, but there was no proof of that.

I also found a small article that ran in a newspaper published in southern New Jersey. On November 20, 1937, a body washed up on shore in Atlantic City It was a male who was so badly decomposed it was impossible to identify him, though the cause of death was clear. He didn’t drown. He was shot. Oddly enough, he was wearing a tuxedo. In his pocket was a silver spoon that was engraved: RMS Queen Mary.

Bobby, Courtney, I found a record that stated Mark Dimond booked passage and left for London aboard the ocean liner Queen Mary on November 7. The implication is frightening. The coincidence is too great. I’m afraid that Mark Dimond never made it to London. I fear he was killed aboard the Queen Mary and his body dumped overboard.

If that’s the case, then your goal is clear. You’ve got to get to Mark before November 7 and stop him from boarding, because somebody on that ship means him harm.

If I learn any more I will send it to you. I hope you’ve received this. Good luck.

Patrick Mac “So that’s how it works,” came a voice.

Courtney jumped and yelped. Somebody had been watching her. She quickly crumpled Patrick’s note, shoved it in her pocket and stood up to face… Dodger.

“Y-You’re spying on me,” Courtney said angrily, her voice cracking. Her head was spinning. Too much was happening too fast.

“Sorry,” Dodger said. “I saw you walking toward the hotel then suddenly get all snaky and run into the bushes. What can I say? I was concerned.”

Courtney froze. How much had he seen? Dodger seemed troubled. He looked at her as if wanting to say something, but couldn’t find the right words. She decided the best way to deal with him was to get away.

“Don’t spy on me,” she said sharply, and started to walk.

“Wait!” Dodger exclaimed.

Courtney stopped, waiting for him to make the next move.

“Gunny’s my pal,” he said in the voice of a frightened little boy. “He’s one of the good guys. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.”

Courtney didn’t respond. She didn’t know where Dodger was going.

“Before he left for wherever it was he went, he asked me for a favor. He never asked favors of nobody, so I figured it had to be important. He told me there might come a time when he’d need my help. He wasn’t specific or nothin’, he just said he had an important job to do. Him and Pendragon and Spader. You know what he was talking about?”

Courtney did, of course, but she didn’t say.

“Anyhow, he said he was gonna leave for a while, but there might come a time when somebody came here looking for help. He asked me to do what I could for ‘em. Of course I said I’d do it. I’d do anything for Gunny. But when I asked what it was all about, he said he hoped I’d never have to know. Now I’m thinking it’s time I know.”

“Why’s that?” Courtney asked.

Dodger lifted his hand. He was wearing a silver band around one finger. He twisted it, showing Courtney that he was wearing it backward. When he spun it around, Courtney gasped.

It was a Traveler ring.

“He asked me to be his acolyte. I got no idea what that means, but I’ve been wearing this ring ever since. Then all of a sudden Pendragon comes back with you, and you’ve got one of these rings, and I just saw yours spew out sparks like it was the Fourth of July. I’m thinking it’s time I found out what Gunny was talking about.”

Courtney’s mind raced. What should she do? She definitely needed an ally, but was he telling the truth? She trusted a stranger once before and it nearly killed her. Was Dodger exactly what he said he was? An innocent friend that Gunny chose to be his acolyte? Or was there something sinister going on? Was this another disguise of Saint Dane’s?

“I just want to do what Gunny asked,” he said sincerely. “I want to help you.”

“Are you Saint Dane?” Courtney asked, point blank. “Not that I think you’d tell me if you were, but I figure I have to ask, just to let you know I’m thinking you might be.”

Dodger gave her a puzzled look. “Saint Dane? You mean like the dog? Or is that Saint Bernard? Or Great Dane? I’m more confused now than a second ago.”

Courtney didn’t know what to do. Confide in Dodger? Blow him off? Run away and never look back? She knew she needed to make a decision, but couldn’t.

A second later the decision was made for her.

‘You’re telling me you have no idea what this is all about?” she asked.

“Not a clue,” Dodger said.

“Then here’s your first,” Courtney said, lifting up her hand. It was the hand with her ring. The stone was glowing again. Dodger’s eyes grew wide, “What the-” Bobby’s next journal was about to arrive.

I hope you’re reading this, Courtney.

And I hope you’re doing okay. I guess that’s an understatement. It killed me to leave you alone on First Earth. I wish there was another way, but I’m not smart enough to think of one. I’m glad that Dodger is still at the hotel. He comes on a little strong, but you can trust him. Gunny did. If you need anything, don’t think twice about asking him.

In spite of feeling bad about leaving you alone to find Mark, it was a good thing I came to Ibara. I still haven’t pieced together what Saint Dane is doing here, but there’s one thing I’m sure of: The turning point is close. I don’t know what it is yet, but some of the things I’ve seen make me believe that this territory is in for a big change. Maybe a scary one. As I write this journal, I’ve been here for about a week. With every new bit of information I learn, five more questions pop up. Nothing is as it seems, but I think I’ve found a way to start putting the pieces of the puzzle together. I’m about to take off on an adventure and do something I never thought possible.

I’m going to become an outlaw.

I know, not exactly good way to put myself square in the middle of the conflict that will lead to the turning point of Ibara. That’s why I’m writing this journal now. I don’t know when I’ll get another chance, because tomorrow it’s all going to hit the fan.

Let me get you up to speed with what’s happened since I left the Manhattan Tower Hotel. My trip to Ibara was nothing out of the ordinary.

My arrival was.

I left Gunny’s apartment before you woke up. We said our good-byes the night before, and I couldn’t go through that agony again. I traveled by cab to the Bronx subway station to find that the city transit workers had already cleared the wreck. Subway service had been returned to normal. I snuck down onto the tracks and made my way back to the gate quickly. I wasn’t worried about quigs or dados or anything else that might stop me from getting to Ibara. When Saint Dane wanted me somewhere, I got there. Without so much as stopping for a moment to think about what I might find on the new territory, I opened the wooden door, marched right into the flume and announced “Ibara!” I think I was afraid that if I hesitated, I’d change my mind. The door barely had time to close behind me before I was swept up and carried off.

My head was in a strange place… along with the rest of me. Since I was once again on my own, I had the chance to think. That’s always a dangerous thing. I’m much better reacting to situations. When my mind wanders, my thoughts invariably go to the larger questions. The questions I have no answers for. On top of that list is the fact that Saint Dane told me the Travelers were illusions. Illusions. What the heck did that mean? I sure didn’t feel like an illusion, though I’m not exactly sure how an illusion should feel. Was he using the word as a metaphor, like we weren’t who we seemed to be? Or did he mean it literally?