jtd@dec.uk.net

I was working late in the office when there was a light tap on the door. I looked up to see a strangely dressed man in his late fifties standing in the doorway his hair was of coconut and his demeanour of confusion.

"Can I help you?" I asked full of intrigue and some amusement.

"Am I speaking to Mr James Ferdinand Tyler grandson of Rowyn Francis Tyler?" he asked.

"You certainly are," I replied clearing a space on the only available chair. "Please take a seat." The man sat heavily on the plain chair.

"I am Gerald Owen of Owen and Owen solicitors. I’m afraid I have some bad news about your grandfather. He sadly passed away last week and was cremated yesterday at a private ceremony."

I felt a tide of anger rise from the depths of my being. My pulse rate increased and I struggled to control my emotion.

"Why have I only just been informed? Your lateness has resulted in me missing my own grandfather’s funeral service!" I uttered in a louder voice than anticipated.

"I know how you feel Mr Tyler but you must appreciate that your late grandfather was a very singular and most unusual person. It was his express wish that I contacted you, the last surviving member of his family, exactly one week after his death. He was most insistent even against my advice."

Mr Owen adjusted his poorly fitting glasses and started to open his briefcase. I sat back into my chair at this statement and continued,

"You are quite right and I apologise if I appeared to be a little heated. Grandad Rowyn was very unusual and I loved him even more for this singular attribute. Now why have you been instructed to find me?"

"You grandfather asked me to approach you at this time to give you this."

Mr Owen pulled out a plain envelope and placed it on the only available space left on my paper-strewn desk. I picked up the envelope and felt something metallic inside. I opened it roughly and pulled out its contents. A single small brass key fell onto the desk and I removed a single sheet of paper.

I looked up at Mr Owen,

"Was the old boy sane when he wrote this? I know he was 91 but it strikes me as rather unorthodox!"

"As sane as you and I," he replied. I continued to read the letter.

I must admit that I was somewhat taken aback by the letter but knew that my grandfather had his reasons for writing it and carrying out his private funeral without family or friends. I folded the note carefully and continued my business with Mr Owen with gathering interest.

The weekend could not come quickly enough for me to make this final pilgrimage to the last resting place of Admiral Rowyn Tyler retired.

I drove up the familiar driveway towards the 1960’s purpose built retirement home for naval officers. I was prepared for the stench of age and latent death as I approached the front desk. I was not disappointed. However there was a rather attractive nurse on duty at the front desk.

"Ah, Mr Tyler! Have you come to clear out your grandfather’s possessions?" she asked brushing some dust from her uniform.

"That is correct. I know the way but it may take some time."

"Don’t worry, take all the time you like," she replied. I took myself to his room with a heavy heart.

His room was clean, tidy but empty of his human form. The bed was stripped and his clothes packed into two open suitcases. It didn’t look like I had to do anything more than collect up his numerous photographs and personal effects. I opened the fitted wardrobe, which was completely empty. I moved on to the drawers, they were in the same condition. Each piece of plain furniture I explored was devoid of all belongings, yet I could not find the box mentioned in the letter. I sat in the well-used armchair to ponder this equation.

Fifteen minutes later the door opened and an old man, that I recognised as one of my grandfather’s friends, entered the room quickly carrying a large carrier bag.

"I’ll have to be quick as I not supposed to be out of my room, doctor’s orders you know. Good to see you. Rowyn asked me to give you this. He didn’t want the vultures to come across it as they denuded his room of the last possessions of value."

"Really?"

"You have the key to this box, if I am not mistaken." He pulled out metal box from the plain carrier bag. "I have no idea what is in here as Rowyn never told me. All I know is that he kept its contents a closely guarded secret from everyone, even your late grandmother. I have done my job now so please excuse me."

Archie Faulstaff left the room as quickly as he arrived before I could say thank you or offer further questions. I was left alone with the box of mystery on my lap. I removed the key from my pocket and unlocked the mystery box.

Inside there appeared to be a leather bound notebook, several photos, a piece of light metal, a spoon and a piece of rope. I placed them on a redundant envelope for closer inspection.

The artefacts were meaningless to me without further information. Surely the other contents of the box would shed some light on the matter. I pulled out the next item, a small exercise book with a heavily faded green cover. I opened the first page and instantly recognised the handwriting of my late grandfather. But what was this document? I read on.

The control car is divided into three areas: control room and bridge, navigation room and observation area. In addition to rudder and elevator controls, the control room contains instruments such as the altimeter, inclinometer and gas cell pressure monitors along with toggles to release hydrogen gas and water ballast. The navigation room contains two gyro compass repeaters (top secret design) a radio compass and telephone switchboard. The radio room is located above the control car and can be accessed via a ladder in the observation area at the rear of the control car. There is also an alternate control area in the interior of the lower vertical fin.’

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© 2003  Steven Longman-Marshall - all rights reserved

25^th January 2003.

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