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Post by dem bones on Nov 12, 2017 15:07:24 GMT
'John Rackham' (John Thomas Phillifent) - The Touch Of Evil (Digit, 1963)  Robert A. Osborne
Ankh
Out Of The IdBlurb: ‘As the spray of sparks resumed, the hate—blast died away. I expected another blast, but it didn’t come. Instead, from tunnels in all the three walls, came a silent, fearsome horde of staring, grey faced, clay-stained, naked figures, of either sex and all ages.
Silent, and with one object in their dulled, half-alive minds. . . .'
A spine-chilling, blood-curdling collection of stories that will keep the reader tense in his seat with the terror that springs from the powers of evil that are both unnamed . . . and unknown.Another occult investigator to add to the roll call. The Black Cat's Paw: ( Science Fantasy #44, Dec. 1960). "Are you trying to tell me that Smithy was got at, made to suicide himself, just because he had handled yon slip of paper?" Indeed we are, Detective Inspector Ferguson. Indeed we are. When Madame Tara the fortune teller is strangled by her postman, DI Ferguson's suspicions initially fall on Chapman 'Chappie' Jones, an aspiring poet, as one of only three people in the vicinity at time of death, the third being the clairvoyants secretary who discovered the body. The postman returns home to slit his own throat, the Girl Friday hangs herself. In his hour of need Chappie turns to his old army buddy, Dr. Kenneth 'Pepper' Wilson, Putney's premier Egyptologist and #1 Psychic Detective. Ferguson has already established that immediately prior to her murder, Madame Tara had opened a letter bearing a wax seal. Pepper recognises the symbol and knows that all who have set eyes upon the seal of Belial are doomed to take their own lives! Ferguson is sceptical until Sergeant Smith lays into himself with a knife. Can Pepper, Hassim (massive manservant), and Yalna (the obligatory beautiful niece) counter their unknown adversary's Black Sorcery with their own powerful brand of "mumbo jumbo" (© DI Ferguson)? Possibly, provided the smitten Chappie can avert his eyes from Yalna's delectable body and concentrate on the dicey ritual. It's not easy - "From the back she seemed to be wearing nothing but a gold band about her waist, yet there was no hint of anything but simple loveliness - and I recalled that phrase 'the pure vessel'...." - but, thankfully for all concerned, he manages, and the vile entity is vanquished. The day saved, Pepper & friends receive a single sheet bearing a French postmark bearing the warning: WE SHALL MEET AGAIN .... To be continued;
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Post by helrunar on Nov 13, 2017 2:49:35 GMT
This one sounds intriguing! Thanks for the delicious review.
cheers, H.
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Post by helrunar on Nov 13, 2017 2:57:16 GMT
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Post by dem bones on Nov 15, 2017 16:58:11 GMT
This next is quite racy in a late-fifties, pre-watershed sort of way. Also the least expected twist in the budding Chappie-Yalna romance.
Ankh: (Science Fantasy #50, Dec. 1961). The crucial intervention of Chapman Jones at close of the previous adventure has earned him a place on Pepper's team. Chappie's will be a steep learning curve, and a rudimentary grasp of Egyptology prevents his participation in the new investigation. The High Asswam dam has collapsed in mysterious circumstances, flooding Abu Simbel temple and various ancient monuments. Hassim is obliged to return to his native land. Dr. Wilson and Yalna take up residence in the British Museum leaving a disconsolate Chappie to kick his heels. Walking through the city one afternoon he spots the Wilson and his niece on the street. They studiously ignore him. Hurtful as this is, there's also the matter of what his beloved isn't wearing. Until that moment, "I'd have sworn that Yalna could no more look like a tart than she could fly." What's going on?
At least DI Ferguson remains his reliable, gruff old self. The Inspector confides in Chappie that his men are planning a drug raid on Club Thebes. Chappie agrees to spend his evening at the club and keep watch for suspicious characters. Hassim returns in time to accompany him. Chappie relates what happened when last he saw Pepper and his niece. Hassim doesn't like the sound of it.
The Club Thebes, a sixties taster of hideous theme bars to come, is in full swing, the resident showgirls giving it their all to a selection of faux 'Egyptian' discs.
"One girl gave a 'dance' in agonizingly slow tempo, wearing only her skin and partnering a six-foot length of wrist-thick gilded rope, to hackneyed snake-charmer noises from an oboe. It would have intrigued Freud, perhaps. As a parody it was almost funny. But the audience - and there was quite a crowd, by now - thought it marvellous judging by the applause."
Now I'm as "with it" as the next man, but you have to draw the line somewhere. Must we fling this filth at our pop kids? What kind of degenerate would voluntarily pass their evening in such a sordid den of vice?
Ken Wilson and Yalna for two.
"Call that a dance?" sneers Yalna. "I'll show you some real dancing!" - and begins unfastening her dress!
Crushingly, DI Ferguson's men take this as their cue to raid the premises. A fighting drunk Dr. Wilson and hellcat Yalna are ushered onto the street only for the former to land a punch on a policeman's nose. Ferguson intervenes - and receives a taste of the same! The final straw! A night in the cells will cool them off. Wait until the press get wind of this one. Wilson's impeccable reputation will be dragged through the gutter.
Has 'Peppy' Wilson cultivated a dope habit? Is his celestial niece "doing it" with every Tom, Dick and Harry? Or could it be that their old nemesis, Rameses 'The Black Adept' Ferrars, is up to his old tricks?
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