by Andrew May

Monday 6.30 pm. Holywell Street.

Pierce Stormson was standing at the window looking out into the street. "I believe we are about to receive a visit from a new client, Watson," he said.

My name isn't Watson, of course, but the Prof fancies himself as a modern-day Sherlock Holmes and he talks like that sometimes.

"Really? How can you tell? " I asked.

"In the street outside there is a gentleman with a distinctly nervous air about him. His coat collar is turned up, and he is glancing around furtively. He has had this house under observation for some minutes, and he is obviously struggling to come to a decision. Ah, I believe he is on the point of ringing our bell."

The doorbell rang and I went to answer it. On the doorstep there was a small, nervous-looking young man with a moustache and prematurely thinning hair. As I opened the door he pushed past me into the house. I shrugged and followed him into Stormson's living room.

The man hurried to the window and drew the heavy curtains, shutting out what was left of the daylight. I switched on the ceiling light.

Stormson seemed faintly amused. "Please sit down -- Dr Philpott, isn't it?"

The man darted a suspicious look at him. "How do you know that?"

"An elementary deduction. You seem a little... shall we say security-conscious? A commendable but unusual attitude for a member of the academic community in this town. That you are an academic is obvious from the college tie you are wearing." Stormson paused for a moment. "A few days ago the university newspaper printed a strongly-worded letter from a Dr Philpott drawing attention to the lamentable lack of security within the university precincts. I merely put two and two together."

"Well, that's right," the man admitted. "I'm John Philpott, a post-doctoral research assistant at the Department of Experimental Physics. But I don't feel safe. I think I'm being watched. How do I know I can trust you?"

"My dear sir, I assure you that the Secret Oxford League of Volunteer Extracurricular Detectives is the very paragon of trustworthiness. SOLVED is the enemy of corruption in all its forms."

Philpott nodded. "Yes, I've heard of your reputation. It was you who exposed the big conspiracy at Habeas Corpus Law School last year."

"Ah, the Case of the Draconian Brotherhood. A nasty business."

"Indeed it was. But I find myself in the middle of an even nastier one." Philpott hesitated before going on. "You see, my research is very important, and there are powerful forces at work to prevent it from succeeding."

"You intrigue me. Please go on."

Philpott looked around nervously. "You've heard of cold fusion?"

"I have," Stormson answered. "Cold fusion is a controversial process which to my knowledge has never been demonstrated to the satisfaction of the scientific community. If successful, it would provide a means of obtaining limitless energy from ordinary water."

Philpott nodded vigorously. "That's it exactly. Limitless energy... Limitless FREE energy. I am on the brink of success. You can see why they are out to suppress my work at all costs."

Stormson looked puzzled. "They? Who are 'They'?"

Philpott leaned forward confidentially "The Invisible College," he whispered.

"You have received specific threats?"

"Yes -- indeed I have. But perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself." Philpott leaned back and collected his thoughts. "For some time I have had the vague feeling of being watched -- of whispering behind my back. It was intolerable, with my precious equipment at the mercy of any intruder or saboteur, out there in the big open laboratory. Eventually I persuaded our head of department, Professor Carr, to allow me to move my experiment into the greater safety of the secure laboratory."

"Professor Carr?" Stormson interjected. "I take it you refer to Professor Harrison Carr, the eminent quantum physicist?"

"That's right," Philpott nodded. "He's a formidable man to work for -- an FRS, you know. A Fellow of the Royal Society. I had to keep at him for weeks before he would allow me to move into the secure lab. There was plenty of space in there, but he was under pressure from his wife."

"His wife?"

"Dr Janet Carr, another member of the research staff. She was his protégé, and now she's his wife as well. Her work is sponsored by a large electronics company, and it's a condition of employment that her equipment is kept in a locked and secure laboratory."

"I see." Stormson pondered for a moment. "Just how secure is this room? How many people have access to it?"

"Only four people," Philpott answered. "Harrison Carr, Janet Carr, myself, and a laboratory technician named Mr Suggs."

"What about cleaners?"

"The regular cleaning staff never go into the secure room. Mr Suggs does whatever cleaning is required in there."

"Yet you still feel your equipment is not safe?"

"I know for a fact that it isn't. When I came back from lunch today, I found this pushed under the door of the secure lab." With a trembling hand Philpott took out a small card which he handed to Stormson.

"Hmm, the Invisible College. What do you make of it, Melvin?" Stormson passed the card to me.

It was about the size of an ordinary business card, blank on both sides except for the following inscription in rough handwriting:

do'nt mess with
the invisible collidge
you have bin worned

"Unusual spelling," I commented. "Without doubt this message comes from a secret society of the most malignant kind. Like the Illuminati, or even worse. You must take the warning seriously, Dr Philpott. It's no use trying to fight an organisation like this. Turn your skills to something less dangerous, like designing a bomb."

Stormson snorted in disgust. "What nonsense! Dr Philpott, I really must apologise for my young assistant's morbid imagination. He can't help it -- he's doing a Ph.D. on the life and works of H.P. Lovecraft. You may safely ignore his suggestion. I am quite certain we can get to the bottom of this. We will pay you a visit tomorrow morning and examine the situation first hand."

After Dr Philpott had left, Stormson turned to me. "Illuminati, indeed! You really need to curb your imagination. There must be some simple explanation."

"Of course there's a simple explanation," I agreed. "This Philpott chap is on the brink of producing unlimited free energy. Obviously some big corporation with a vested interest has set out to stop him. Maybe it's the big corporation that Mrs Carr works for. She's probably the one that left that note, to put the wind up him."

The Prof shook his head. "I'm afraid you're taking our friend Philpott's story too much at face value. I doubt very much that he is on the brink of anything."

"But he seemed so sincere!" I protested.

"Oh, he's sincere all right. There's no doubt he fervently believes in what he is saying. But the man is hopelessly deluded. I don't need to be a great psychologist like our colleague Dr Kluger to recognise paranoia when I see it. The man has all the classic symptoms -- delusions of grandeur, delusions of persecution..."

"But the Invisible College," I pointed out. "You can't deny that the threat was real."

"Yes, that element of it is puzzling." Stormson paused for a moment and then looked up. "Do you know what the Invisible College was?"

"Some sinister secret society," I answered. "Like the Illuminati or the Priory of Sion."

"Not at all," Stormson said. "The Invisible College was simply the name by which the Royal Society was originally known."

I gasped. "The Royal Society! But Philpott told us that his boss, Harrison Carr, was a Fellow of the Royal Society!"

"Indeed. Yet the somewhat idiosyncratic spelling on the card does not look like the work of a professor to me."

"Then what does it all mean?" I asked him.

The Prof looked at me. "At the moment I confess I haven't the slightest idea. But I can assure you I mean to find out."

"I can see this is going to be a good one," I said. "The Case of the Invisible College!"

* * *

Tuesday 9.30 am. Woodstock Road

"We're going the wrong way," I pointed out. "We've gone past the Experimental Physics department -- it was back there in Keble Road."

"All in good time," Stormson replied. "There is another visit I would like to make first."

We turned in at a nondescript terraced house and Stormson rang the bell for the top floor flat.

After a long delay there was a crackle from the loudspeaker and a slurred voice said "Whaddayawant?"

"This is Pierce Stormson. I've just begun a new case. I need to draw on your unquestionably unique fund of knowledge."

There was a grunt from the loudspeaker. "S'pose you'd better come on up then."

The buzzer sounded and Stormson pushed the door open. We went up the grimy staircase to the top floor and entered the dingy little flat. We were met by a small, skinny man with long greasy hair and a bad posture. He was dressed in nothing but a pair of oversized boxer shorts.

"What time of day do you call this? It's still the middle of the night!" Our host peered at us through screwed up eyes, as though protecting them against a very bright light. In fact, the curtains were still closed and the flat was in near darkness.

"Swamp Rat, my good fellow," Stormson greeted him jovially. "We have need of your world-renowned urban information service."

Swamp Rat grunted noncommittally. His real name was probably something else, but everyone called him Swamp Rat. No-one was quite sure what he did for a living, but in his spare time he was a reluctant member of the SOLVED network. His unique information-gathering skills had featured in many of our seedier adventures, such as the Case of the Headington Hooker and the Case of the Rag-Week Rave-Up.

"Does the phrase Invisible College mean anything to you?" Stormson asked.

"Huh?" Swamp Rat shook his head, as though trying to clear it. "That's a new one on me, squire. I've heard of Old College and New College, and Keble College and Balliol and Brasenose and all the rest, but I can’t say I've ever come across Invisible College."

"I don't think this is a college in the normal sense," Stormson clarified. "Perhaps a nightclub?"

"I'd know if it was." Swamp Rat blinked. "I'd probably own it, come to think of it. Don't ring any bells, though."

Stormson sighed. "Well, it's important that we find out. Can you do a bit of ferreting about for us? Come and find us in the Department of Experimental Physics if you turn anything up."

Swamp Rat looked hurt. "You mean 'when', not 'if'. You know me, guv -- I always come up with the goods. But give me a couple of hours. I've got to finish my beauty sleep first."

* * *

Tuesday 10.15 am. Department of Experimental Physics

We arrived at our destination to find it in chaos. People were milling about everywhere and talking noisily.

"Professor Stormson! Thank heavens you're here." Dr Philpott came running up to us. "It's happened, just like I knew it would. They've broken into the secure laboratory and destroyed all my equipment."

He took us to the end of the corridor, where there was a heavy metal door which was partially open. There was water all over the floor.

"This is the secure lab," Philpott said. "Come inside and see the damage."

The interior of the laboratory was very cramped. At the far end there was a workbench with neatly stacked equipment. "That's Janet Carr's stuff," Philpott said bitterly. "You'll notice it hasn't been touched. This was mine here."

He indicated a large plastic tank -- a couple of cubic metres, by the look of it -- which was now almost empty. There was a great gash in its side through which the contents had spilled. The tank had obviously been the source of the water that was sloshing underfoot.

"Mindless destruction!" Philpott exclaimed savagely. "And the electrodes have been taken."

"Electrodes?" Stormson inquired.

"Yes, there were two electrodes in the tank. They're missing now. Solid gold -- not the easiest thing to get hold of."

"Ah, gold! I see." Stormson nodded thoughtfully. "They were quite valuable, I imagine?"

"Their value was nothing compared to the potential value of the experiment -- only a couple of thousand pounds. The electrodes weren't that big -- just 50 grams each. Their monetary value is insignificant compared with the loss to Science..."

"Nevertheless it's a motive," Stormson pointed out.

"But why destroy the experiment?" Philpott protested. "The electrodes could have been removed without letting the water out of the tank and ruining everything."

"You may be right," Stormson replied absently. He was looking around the room with a thoughtful expression. "Tell me -- that big metal cupboard behind the tank. What's in there?"

"I've no idea," Philpott shrugged. "You'd have to ask Professor Carr or his wife. I'm under the impression it's empty."

"Your tank was obstructing access to it. When it was full of water it weighed how much?"

Philpott did a mental calculation. "A couple of tons, easily. It's true that the cupboard was inaccessible when the tank was filled with water. But it was Harrison Carr himself who told me to put the tank there. That's what makes me think the cupboard is empty."

"Well, never mind. It's probably not important." Stormson poked around the room for a few more minutes, then turned back to Philpott. "I'm going to call in one of my colleagues -- an expert in forensics -- and then I'd like to talk to the other members of staff."

As we turned to leave the secure lab, I saw something that made me gasp with horror.

"Look!" I said. "Another message from the Invisible College!"

In the corner of a whiteboard by the door, a sinister message was scrawled:

DEATH of the Oxford Martyrs

"I observed that when we came into the room," Stormson commented. To my dismay, he seemed completely uninterested in the inscription. In the corridor outside he took out his mobile phone and made a brief call.

"I've sent for Jishnu," he explained. "He'll be along in a few minutes." Jishnu Mitra was another member of the SOLVED team -- a forensic scientist whose assistance had been invaluable on countless occasions. His greatest triumph had been the bizarre Case of the Devil's Footprints.

Stormson turned back to Philpott. "Now -- I'd like to speak to the other people with access to the secure laboratory, if I may."

Philpott hurried off and came back a few minutes later with a small group of people. He introduced them to us. Professor Harrison Carr turned out to be a tall, heavily built man in his 50s, who looked like he might have been a rugby player in his earlier years. His wife Janet was perhaps twenty years younger -- a serious-looking woman with short hair and sensible clothes. The technician, Mr Suggs, was a sullen-faced man dressed in a frayed lab coat.

"Now then," Stormson began. "Which of you was it who discovered the secure room had been broken into?"

"That was me, if you must know," Mr Suggs grunted. "It was how you see it now when I opened up at 8.30 this morning."

"And who was the last person to use the laboratory last night?"

"That would have been me, Professor," Janet Carr replied primly. "I finished work and locked everything up around seven yesterday evening."

"Can any of you think why the room should have been broken into?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Suggs scowled at him. "It was for them gold electrodes. Some people will nick anything."

"Perhaps," Stormson conceded. "And one final question. Does the phrase 'Invisible College' mean anything to any of you?"

He was met by blank looks all around. They shook their heads.

At that moment Jishnu Mitra arrived, lugging two heavy cases of equipment. "Your favourite forensic scientist reporting for duty, sir," he announced. He was a jovial, chubby-faced Indian of about 30.

"Excellent," Stormson greeted him. "There is work to be done in the room at the end of this corridor. I want you to take the prints of the four people here..." He turned to them and added by way of reassurance: "That's purely for reference, you understand. Jishnu, see if you can find any non-matching prints inside the room. If you do, then they belong to someone who had no business being there."

Stormson led the small retinue along the corridor to the secure lab. "And there's something else I want you to look into." He turned to Harrison Carr. "Professor, that large metal cupboard -- may I ask what is kept in there?"

"Nothing, as far as I'm aware. It's been empty for some time."

"I would like to be sure," Stormson said. "That is where you can help me -- the cupboard appears to be locked."

"Yes," Carr agreed. "It has a combination lock. I can open it if you wish."

"Please do."

Harrison Carr moved the almost-empty plastic tank out of the way, and went up to the large metal cupboard behind it. He manipulated the lock for a few seconds, muttered in frustration, then tried again. Finally he gave up. "I don't understand it. It looks like the combination has been changed."

Stormson nodded slowly. "Am I correct in assuming that the combination is a four-digit number?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Then if you would permit me..." Stormson went over to the cupboard and knelt down by the lock. Before touching anything he took a pair of cotton gloves from his pocket and put them on. Then he turned his attention to the lock, and in a matter of seconds he had it open. He peered inside.

"You're right -- the cupboard is bare. Except..." He sniffed the shelves. "It seems to have been used for something not too long ago. And what's this?" He ran his gloved hand along a shelf and picked up a small metallic object that had escaped his notice earlier. He looked again more carefully. "Another one -- a matching pair!" He turned to Philpott and showed him what he had found. "Your gold electrodes, I presume?"

"Yes. But I don't understand..."

"Neither do I, yet." Stormson got back to his feet. "But I have to say things are becoming clearer by the minute." He beckoned Jishnu over to him and whispered something in his ear. Then he returned to the main group.

"I would like to speak to Professor Carr for a few minutes in the privacy of his office. Jishnu, if you would be so good as to take the Professor's fingerprints now, we can leave you to get on with the rest of your work in peace."

* * *

Tuesday 11.30 am. Professor Carr's office.

Away from the chaos in and around the secure lab, the two professors and myself sat in the comfortable main office at the other end of the corridor.

"Tell me frankly," Stormson was saying. "What do you think of Dr Philpott's work?"

Professor Carr measured his words carefully. "There's no doubt Philpott is a good physicist. Otherwise I wouldn't employ him. He has some good ideas. But..."

"...But they're not as good as he thinks they are?" Stormson finished for him.

Carr nodded vigorously. "That's it exactly. He has a grossly inflated view of the importance of his work."

"He believes that others are 'out to get him', as it were?"

"Yes. He kept nagging at me until I allowed him to transfer his equipment into the secure room, despite the fact that it wasn't necessary and there was really no room for it. My wife was very unhappy about it, I can tell you."

Stormson leaned forward. "But the fact remains that his equipment was attacked. Maybe there was something to his fears after all. Perhaps not the huge corporate conspiracy he imagines, but a smaller professional rivalry?"

"It's true that funding is in short supply, and there's stiff competition among the staff for research grants. But..." Carr cleared his throat nervously. "But I really don't think Philpott is close enough to success for his work to be seen as a threat by anyone."

"I'm sure you are right," Stormson concurred. "In fact, I am forming quite a clear theory as to what happened, and it has nothing whatever to do with Dr Philpott or his work."

There was an interruption as the door opened and Janet Carr looked in.

"I'm sorry, Harrison -- but a perfectly obnoxious little man has just turned up. He's demanding to see Professor Stormson. He says he has an appointment."

"And so he does," Stormson confirmed. "Dear old Swamp Rat. I knew he'd deliver the goods. Please send him in immediately."

Swamp Rat came in, looking marginally more presentable than the last time we had seen him. His hair was tied back in a pony tail, and he was dressed in black jeans and a faded T-shirt.

"You wanted information about the Invisible College," he said. "Well, I can tell you. The Invisible College is an up-and-coming new player in the drug-distribution game. They supply all kinds of wacky baccy, herbal smokes and party pills to the discerning user. At very reasonable prices, I'm told."

"I thought as much." Stormson nodded to himself thoughtfully. "Many thanks for the information, my good man. You may return to bed, if you wish."

Swamp Rat rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Return to bed, he says! What's the point, now I've got myself all washed and dressed and tarted up." He looked at his watch. "Twelve o'clock! Normally I only ever see one twelve o'clock per day, and it's not this one."

Still mumbling, Swamp Rat left the room just as Jishnu Mitra came in.

Jishnu announced his findings without preamble. "No prints anywhere except for those of the four authorised persons. The only prints inside the cupboard are those of Mr Suggs. But FIDO found lots of other interesting things in there."

"FIDO?" Stormson raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"FIDO -- Forensic Investigation Device (Olfactory). My electronic sniffer-dog." Jishnu pulled out an instrument that looked for all the world like one of the tricorders from Star Trek. "I followed up your suggestion about chemicals. If you're looking for a recreational drug, it's been stored in that cupboard in the recent past. Cannabis, Ecstasy, Magic Mushrooms, Horny Goatweed, you name it. A veritable wholesale warehouse of the stuff."

Stormson looked pleased. "I believe you've hit the nail on the head," he said. "A wholesale warehouse is exactly what it was, and our grumpy-looking Mr Suggs was the warehouse foreman. No doubt it was a very profitable sideline. He found what must have seemed the perfect storage place -- a disused cupboard with a good lock inside a secure laboratory to which only he and a handful of others had access. He took orders from distributors like the Invisible College, and handed the stuff out as and when it was paid for."

"I think I'm beginning to see the light." Professor Carr rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Suggs has always been an odd sort. I suppose he panicked when he found his access to the cupboard blocked off after Philpott's tank was moved in there."

"Exactly. The tank weighed two tons -- there was no way Suggs could move it. He was so desperate he came in during the night and slashed the tank to let the water out. It was the only way he could make the thing light enough to move. Then he had to fake a burglary to cover his tracks."

I could see the mystery slipping away before my eyes. "So the Invisible College wasn't a super-secret sinister supra-governmental conspiracy after all." I tried to hide my disappointment.

"I'm afraid not," Stormson said. "Just a bunch of common or garden drug dealers. Their threat was real, of course, but it was aimed at Mr Suggs and not Dr Philpott."

I thought for a moment. "But what about the second message -- Death to the Martyrs of Oxford?"

"The exact phrase was ' Death of the Oxford Martyrs'," Stormson corrected. "A reference to a historical event that took place in this city in the year 1555. It was simply Mr Suggs' way of remembering the combination he had reset the cupboard to -- a four digit number -- 1555."

"So that's why you were able to unlock it so easily! But what about..."

Stormson looked at me. "What about what?"

"Nothing," I admitted. "There's nothing left to explain. You've done it again, Holmes. The Case of the Invisible College. SOLVED."

THE END

Copyright © 2009 Andrew May