Eden Relics (A Zac Woods novel #1): Author royalties for Cancer Research

by N Williams

  Zac took the sheet and quickly scanned it. ‘How can you be sure this was the right ship?’

  ‘Well, this is where I got lucky. Also removed from the ship at Liverpool was the body of a man killed by “person or persons unknown” during the voyage. And, guess what...his name was Hayward Carre.’

  CHAPTER 33

  Farrell climbed out of the altar shaft covered in sticky mud.

  Dressing the altar with the cloth once more, he knelt before it. After a short silent prayer, he crossed himself and left the cellar. The cellar was his private domain; no one was allowed to enter it. Even his former handyman, poor old Ben, had never stepped foot inside. There was a lot of work to be done below ground level, but it was work that only he could carry out. No one else could be allowed to know what lay beneath the castle.

  He had an hour before the groups were booked in for the ghost tour. The tours were such an easy way to make money and every little bit helped towards the renovation of the old limestone building. Julian, the resident ghost hunter, would handle all that.

  The castle had cost Sir Eddie a little over two million on top of the purchase price to restore the building to its current state, but even that had done little to halt the rot in the fabric of the old building. It was in a pitiful state, but the hard work and extortionate cost of the builders was going to be worth it, not just for the preservation of the history it represented, but also because Farrell and Sir Eddie knew the castle was the key to a far greater treasure; something he knew was just out of reach. Farrell was sure he’d have it soon - he could almost taste it.

  *

  The X-type slotted neatly into a parking space in the courtyard of the castle. The mock-limestone crenellations rose up on three sides around them as they stepped from the car. Built to look like a castle, the large country house was designed and constructed in 1840 and was only ever intended to be a home. The lower accommodation block on the right flank and Adelina’s later theatre addition to the left balanced the towers and pinnacles of the front elevation of the castle.

  ‘Looks spooky,’ said Sally.

  Zac agreed. ‘I’m glad you think so. They run ghost tours here from time to time, and there’s one scheduled for tonight. We’ll sign up for it. It’ll give us cover to search the place for the diary, but the only spirits I expect tonight are the ones served up in a shot-glass,’ added Zac with a grin.

  ‘You are shittin’ me,’ sighed Gates. ‘I don’t like stuff like that. It gives me the creeps.’

  ‘Never thought you were such a wimp,’ teased Sally.

  ‘If I can’t kick it, or hit ten buckets of shit out of it, I get scared.’

  Zac laughed. ‘Don’t worry, big man. There’s no self-respecting spook going to come within a mile of your ugly arse.’ They walked up the well-worn stone steps and into the foyer of the building. At reception, they booked into three twin-bed rooms.

  *

  Rather than go directly to the castle, as they had originally planned, Zac had made a detour to Sally’s place in Cardiff and to his own home in the Tower to pick up a change of clothes and a bag containing equipment he thought they’d need for the night. The journey from Swansea to the castle had taken a little under forty minutes.

  The corridor leading to the accommodation wing was dark and dated and in need of some restoration. The accommodation was much better; each room had its own quirky features left over from the days of being a grand home or functional hospital. The place was caught in a time warp between periods. Faded fire evacuation notices from the time of the hospital were still affixed to walls of the corridors. The place needed to exploit the connection with Madame Patti to attract more guests. After all, no one wanted to stay in a place where they treated tuberculosis, did they? Tossing his bag onto the bed, Zac stood at the window and stared out onto the courtyard. Sally walked in quietly behind him and stood for a while. Zac remained lost in his thoughts.

  ‘Nice room,’ she finally said.

  ‘Not bad is it?’

  Sally moved closer to Zac. ‘Something wrong, other than being a recent target for murder?’

  Zac shook his head and poured a shot of water from the jug that had been left at the side of the bed, ‘Want some?’

  Sally shook her head. ‘What’s bothering you, Zac?’

  Sipping the water, he wondered if Sally would think him weak if he told her the truth about the place - but decided to risk it. ‘The castle holds lots of memories for me.’

  ‘Oh?’

  Zac hadn’t known Sally long, but he felt he could trust her, to tell her things he had never told anyone before. ‘It was used as a hospital a couple of times in the past.’

  ‘Yes, I know. I read the tour guide.’

  Zac dropped two soluble tablets into his water glass. ‘Well, the first time around it was used as a T.B. hospital. Can’t exactly tell you when that was; just after the Second World War, I think. Anyway, it was also used as a geriatric hospital in the sixties and seventies.’

  ‘Okay.’ Sally was wondering where this was going.

  He drank the fizzing water before continuing. ‘My grandmother died here. I was twelve or thirteen, I think. I had just started at the local comprehensive school, and had gone with classmates on a skiing trip to Austria. The week before I left, my Gran had been admitted to the hospital. No one told me why. By the time I returned she had died of cancer and been buried... just like that. I had no chance to say goodbye. I sent her a postcard from Austria, but I don’t think she ever got to read it.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Zac. That’s sad,’ said Sally as she stood next to him at the window.

  ‘I told you it was silly. It was a long time ago. She was a funny woman, a real character with a cutting sense of humour.’ He poured another shot of water into the glass to swill the powder residue. ‘She was a good woman, and she didn’t deserve to die like that. My mum and her sisters were devastated. They were extremely close, especially after my dad left us. Gran tried to help us out but died within a year of dad doing a runner.’ ‘So, this isn’t a good place to be?’

  ‘I’ve been here a few times since Gran died, but I’ve never stayed here. Just seems strange to be sleeping in the same place. For all I know, this could be the exact same room she died in; who knows?’

  ‘It’s unlikely, Zac.’

  ‘I know. It’s odd that I feel this way. I’m not normally like this. I’m sorry.’

  ‘No need to apologise. Nice to see you’re not just a lean-mean-slightly-over-the-hill-killing-machine,’ she joked. She lightly stroked Zac’s hand then turned on her heel and walked out the door.

  Zac stood staring at the empty doorway. He felt a strong connection to the place - and to Sally. ‘Hey! Less of the “over-the-hill” stuff,’ he called after her. The buzzing of his mobile phone interrupted his thoughts. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Mr. Woods? This is Pete Handley… Pete Handley... from the airport?’

  ‘Hi, Pete. Have you found the reason for the engine failure?’

  ‘That’s why I’m calling. It seems that the heavy oil was introduced to the fuel tank in some sort of slow release capsule. I’ve never seen anything like it before. The chemical analysis suggests it was coated with a film; something designed to decay slowly in the fuel and release the contents. As soon as the diesel hit the fuel it was only a matter of seconds before the engine would start running rough and fail.’

  Zac couldn’t believe his ears. ‘So you’re telling me that someone must have dropped this thing into the tank to deliberately sabotage the fuel system?’

  There was a moment’s pause before Handley replied. ‘I’m afraid it looks like someone tried to kill you, Mr Woods.’

  ‘Seems to be a regular occurrence,’ agreed Zac.

  CHAPTER 34

  Zac was first to the dining table in the old games room of the castle and had made a token effort for dinner by dressing in a casual tan-coloured jacket over a T-shirt and jeans.

  He flicked through the leaflets and black bound
leather ring binder he had picked up at reception on the way through to the dining room. The black binder contained a dozen or so sheets of a guided tour of the castle, each page dealing with specific rooms or significant dates in the history of the old building and its famous residents.

  From an old photograph of the dining room, Zac could just about make out that he was sitting where the snooker table had once been at the time Adelina lived there. The photos of the old building, the rooms of the past and present, and the group photos of the staff would have been fascinating at any other time. The thought of the attempt on his life and the devastation that could have been caused if the aircraft had come down onto the city centre was terrifying. He decided not to tell Sally about the sabotage; she was spooked enough as it was. Someone with knowledge of chemistry, a chemical company or some exceptionally intelligent individual, must have been involved, and he was determined to find the person or persons responsible.

  Rather than rely on the waiter, Zac left the binder and associated information on the table and walked through to the nearby bar. Ordering a straight Jameson’s, Zac turned to check out the figure he had caught in his peripheral vision.

  ‘Mr. Woods?’ The man looked surprised at seeing Zac.

  Zac recognised the smartly dressed man as being the owner of the castle. ‘Mr….’ Zac struggled to remember the name. The man smiled at him as Zac fished out the business card from his wallet. ‘Mr Farrell?’

  ‘That’s right, Mr Woods. I never forget a name or a face. What brings you here?’

  ‘We’ve booked onto the ghost tour tonight.’

  Farrell made no effort to hide his scepticism. ‘You don’t strike me as the type to be interested in the supernatural.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not. Not really. We thought we’d have a bit of fun to lift our spirits a little after recent events.’

  ‘We? Do I take it that you have friends with you?’

  ‘Yes. A couple.’ Zac wasn’t going to elaborate. There was something strange about Farrell.

  ‘And are you staying with us tonight?’

  ‘Yep... we booked a couple of rooms. I thought I might partake of a couple of spirits of the Dublin kind.’ He held up his glass of whiskey and nodded to Farrell as he finished his drink.

  Farrell nodded to the barman. ‘Pour Mr Woods another. I’ll cover whatever he and his friends want this evening.’

  The barman nodded and poured another shot of whiskey.

  ‘That’s very kind of you,’ Zac smiled.

  ‘Not at all.’

  As Farrell turned to leave he stopped and stared at Zac for a moment. ‘May I just give you a word of advice, Mr Woods? Be careful tonight. Keep to the designated tour and don’t stray. The building is still in a state of disrepair, and I wouldn’t want anything unpleasant happening to you and your friends.’

  Watching the man walk away, Zac wondered whether he was being helpful or threatening. There certainly was a hint of menace in Farrell’s words.

  Returning to the restaurant with a free bottle of Siglo for the table, a rotund middle-aged man wearing black trousers and a white dress shirt walked towards him with a spotlessly clean white napkin draped over his left arm.

  ‘May I take your order, sir?’

  Zac welcomed the distraction from his thoughts and smiled warmly. ‘I’m waiting for some friends, but if I could have a pint of Guinness to join Mr Jameson here, I’d be grateful.’ He held up his whiskey in salute.

  At least the waiter’s smile looked genuine as he bowed slightly, his eyes falling on the open page of the binder. ‘I see you’re interested in the castle, sir? It must have been a fascinating time in which to live.’ He pointed at a photograph of a gathering of staff taken outside in the front courtyard. ‘Madame Patti was a wonderful woman. A bit...’ he leaned in close to Zac’s ear and whispered, ‘flighty... some might say. But she was such a generous employer.’

  Zac smiled politely.

  ‘Did you know that she looked after her staff, even after her own death?’ he continued. ‘Any member of staff who had served her loyally for many years was offered accommodation in the castle for the rest of their days. Not many employers around today would do that. Take that photograph, for instance.’ He pointed to a young man standing at the back of the group. ‘Many of those people lived at the castle for years.’ He tapped his finger on the photograph. ‘Some had come from Italy, like the chef, and others from further afield, people she befriended on her travels. But the loyalty went both ways. The staff loved her and would do anything for her.’

  Zac watched the waiter limp off towards the bar and looked closely at the photograph. It was clear that many of the staff were not locals. The chef was mentioned in the credits beneath the image, but there were other faces that certainly were not from the valley either. A young woman had the features of an Asian, whilst the dark skin of the young man the waiter had pointed to had the appearance of someone from North Africa or the Middle East.

  Gates joined Zac a few moments later, dressed casually in jeans and open neck, pink silk shirt.

  ‘In touch with your feminine side, Bill?’ Zac sniggered.

  Gates looked affronted. ‘Why does the colour pink trigger such homophobic comments? Anyway, I’m hugely confident of my sexuality, thank you very much.’

  Zac laughed. ‘Yeah, looks like it.’

  The two men stopped laughing as they caught sight of Sally walking through the door of the dining room. She was dressed in a knee length black wrap-around dress that emphasised her curves. He red hair had been pulled back and up onto the top of her head, held in place by a sparkling butterfly clip. Zac thought she looked stunning and noticed other diners watching her as she made her way confidently across the floor to their table.

  Zac and Gates stood simultaneously to offer her a chair. Both men realised they were drawing smiles from the other diners.

  Gates sat and let Zac offer the chair.

  ‘Thank you kind sir.’

  ‘My pleasure, madam. You could have made an effort,’ he joked.

  ‘Thank you!’ Sally laughed and could see Gates nodding in agreement and staring as if he’d never seen her before.

  ‘Bill, you okay?’

  ‘Er, yeah - wow, lovely. You scrub up well.’

  Sally laughed,’ I’ll take that as a compliment.’

  ‘Wasn’t quite expecting evening dress, Sally,’ said Zac.

  ‘Got to make the effort now and again, I don’t often get the chance.’

  ‘Suppose so. But it’s not the best attire to go snooping around a castle after dark.’

  ‘Snooping - Me? I don’t think so. I’ll leave that to you two. Just call me in the morning when you’re done. I’m only here for the ambiance, the fine food, and the even finer wine.’

  The meal was good wholesome fare and excellent value. Very little was said during the food, another indicator that it was good, and the two bottles of Siglo went down exceedingly well with the steaks and Sally’s lamb shank.

  ‘So how do we go about this snooping lark?’ Gates whispered over his glass of Cognac.

  Zac placed a leaflet on the table and tapped it lightly. ‘After this Jameson’s I think I’ll need an hour or two to rest before the big event.’ Zac smiled at his companions. ‘Think you can make that?’

  Sally picked up the leaflet. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ she giggled. ‘I thought you were joking about the ghost tours.’

  Gates snatched the leaflet from Sally, his happy demeanour draining from his face as he read. ‘Ghost hunt – You’re not serious about this?’

  ‘What better cover can you think of to allow us to sneak around the castle in the dark at night? We can pretend to be one of the crowd and slip off - hopefully without being noticed.’

  Gates shook his head. ‘I don’t even know what we’re looking for.’

  ‘I want to get a closer look at that large stone cross on the roof of the castle. I’ll start by seeing if I can get up on the roof to check that out. Stra
nge place for something like that, especially since no one can see it other than from the air,’ said Zac.

  ‘The best Christians are those who don’t brag about their good deeds, Zac. Perhaps she was happy knowing that only she and God could see the cross?’ suggested Sally.

  ‘Maybe. It’s still strange though.’ Zac turned back to Gates. ‘Then there’s the theatre. Madame Patti added it after she moved in. Maybe that’s worth checking out? Sorry Sally, I’m afraid we’ll need your extra pair of eyes too. You can take a look around the theatre with Bill while I’m messing about on the roof.’

  *

  As Sally ordered a pudding, a Mercedes saloon pulled up outside the castle and parked in the lay-by outside the perimeter wall. A tall man and a woman got out of the car and carried overnight bags into the foyer of the castle.

  Minutes later, the couple were spreading the contents of the bags onto the bed. The tall man placed a Sig 9mm handgun on the duvet and fished in the bag for the silencer.

  The woman pulled out a night scope and an MP5, along with three magazines of rounds.

  The couple checked the weapons. Satisfied everything was in working order, the man cleared the kettle and cups from the bedside table and carefully laid out six hand grenades.

  CHAPTER 35

  It was nearly ten-thirty by the time everyone booked on the ghost tour had assembled in the lounge behind the reception.

  A twenty-something woman called Ffion was doing her best to retain her fixed smile as she welcomed everyone to the event.