DEEP WATERS

Prologue

Shafts of winter sunlight shone through the windows and across the polished table in the conference room at sprite army headquarters. Around the table sat six sprites, one of them slightly apart, alone at the head, the Commander of the army, Gia Biagioni. She made a note on the papers in front of her, then raised her head, her face serious.
“We must now turn to this issue of the disappearances,” she said firmly. “How many new reports have come in this week?”
“Three,” answered the other fairy present. This was General Nella Stalden, head of Air Forces. “One from Germany and two from the Czech Republic. Intelligence have no-one left to send out if another call should come in.”
“Then we must reinforce them from other units,” said the Commander crisply. “I would be glad to hear your suggestions as to how we might achieve that.”
“We need closer liaison with the police,” said General Stalden. “There are places where a definite pattern has been established, and the identities of the missing are known. Couldn’t the police take over the investigation in these places, freeing Intelligence to take on the new cases coming in?”
“I’ve got no spare capacity for that,” growled General Saal, head of the military police. “That’d mean pulling officers off patrol, and as soon as that was noticed, you’d have a crime explosion. That won’t wash, so don’t go unloading your problems onto me, Nella.”

There were two elves at the table, and at that remark they both sighed inwardly, though neither showed it on his face. Typical police, always so helpful and constructive. The younger of the two, General Herdalen, a handsome spruce with dark hair and sharp eyes, tried to think if there was anything he could offer. The elder, General Cherapont, an ancient lime from Belgium, with lines around his eyes from years of smiling, had a question.
“Just a moment,” he said. “I want to know more about this pattern Nella’s talking about. What pattern?”
“In about six places – Delamere, in England, for example – it’s been established that every sprite who’s disappeared has spoken to humans.”
“They’re no loss, then,” said General Saal.
“Keep politics out of this, please!” snapped the Commander. “It is still legal to talk to humans, you know. And as far as I am aware, it is still illegal to transform another sprite against his will.”
“Is that how they’re doing it?” asked General Cherapont.
“It must be,” General Stalden told him. “Without exception, the friends of the disappeared say the same thing – they’re not dead.”

“Look, it’s probably just coincidence,” said General Saal. “I’m sure there’s a lot of needless panicking going on. People have heard of disappearances, and now every clot who’s wandered off without telling anyone where he was going is being reported as missing!”
“That is a valid point,” said Commander Biagioni. “Nevertheless, I am convinced also of the validity of the pattern.”
“Who’ve you got in Delamere?” asked General Cherapont.
“Heather Rhaeadr,” said General Stalden. “Heather and her colleagues recommend tempting bribes or rewards for information about the missing – what they were transformed into, or where they are now – something juicy enough to get one of a gang to talk.”
“Surely they know who the culprits are?” hissed General Széchenyi. “We should bang them all up in prison until they talk.”
“Of course they know,” said General Stalden. “But knowing isn’t proof. And you can’t put people in prison without proof.”
General Széchenyi curled her hands into claws and banged them on the table in frustration.
“If I could get my hands on a computer,” she said, “I’d analyse all the data, from every place, and then we might get some answers.”
“It’s a thought, Dizzy,” said the Commander. “But how long would it take?”
“Too long. Half my people are in danger zones, relocating colonies,” muttered General Széchenyi. “I’ve got to go to Bosnia again soon, myself.”
“That’s even more important than solving this mystery,” smiled the Commander. “You and your units have done brilliant work. Now, I think it’s time for a decision. Where known individuals have allegedly been transformed against their will, a crime has been committed. The police will take over those cases, and I want to see results. Instruct your units, Inula, to offer a year’s remission to any sprite giving useful information, to be used as they wish – saved against any future sentence they may receive, or to get a crony out of prison sooner.”
“Very juicy,” said General Herdalen.
“Also, as an incentive to your officers,” continued the Commander to General Saal, “every solved case will count as equivalent to ten arrests on an officer’s record.”
“Ten!” smiled General Saal. “They’ll like that.”
“Good. Tell the Intelligence Squadron, Nella, to report definite cases to the local police from now on. Thank you, everyone. That’s all for today.”


After the meeting, Commander Biagioni walked off through the vast camp, and General Herdalen joined her.
“You were brilliant,” he said. “Tactful, clever, decisive.”
“You think so? I tell you, Gran, it’s getting harder. Pretending there’s nothing really wrong, that things like this are an isolated, solveable problem.”
“I know. Like trying to hold the tide back.”
“When I look at the police, and see our own units hindering us at every step, I begin to wonder if there’s any hope at all.”
“Don’t despair,” said General Herdalen. “You never know, this may be the year the tide begins to turn. Come on over to the perimeter, and look down to the beach. Some of our new recruits have started to arrive.”
“Yes, there’s only three days to go,” said the Commander. “Let’s have a look. Oh, my goodness, so few. I hope it doesn’t drop below a hundred. Still, there’s time yet for more to arrive.”
“Oh, yes, don’t worry about that,” said General Herdalen. “I arrived with five minutes to spare, myself. The best people are always on the last minute.”