by Jack Murray
‘Haymaker’ was not exactly a Christian. He’d been brought up as a Catholic but, over the years, he’d found himself less interested in organised religion. If pressed he would have professed a faith of sorts. And he’d prayed to God on many a cold night at the front in Flanders. However, when he stepped into this temple, he knew with absolute certainty he was in a place of evil. For the first time since the war, he felt fear. The chill prickling his skin was not just a consequence of the cold inside this strange temple.
It was a large room which took up the whole of the top floor. The ceiling was a sloped skylight, but a few candles aside, it had no light. In the middle of the room was a stone altar. It was at the centre of a pentacle. Candelabra stood at each point of the star. Behind the altar, at the back of the room, was a large black wood carving. It was half man, half goat. ‘Haymaker’ required no one to tell him what it depicted. To the right of the carving, high up on the wall, was a large crucifix. It was upside down. Just below it was a cabinet. The painting on the front was of Adam and Eve. A serpent was encircling Eve in a manner he’d not seen in any church painting lately.
The congregation was kneeling down in front of the altar. They emitted a low murmur which battled, unsuccessfully, against the rumble of thunder outside. ‘Haymaker’ stood at the door, rooted to the spot. Even if he’d wanted to, he doubted he would be able to move. His breathing became shallower and shallower as if the evil in the space was attacking him, strangling the life from him.
There was strange smell in the room. It was a little like the incense he remembered from when his mother had dragged him along to the Sacred Heart Church. For the first time he became aware of music. Or something supposed to be music. The volume was very low, the melody discordant. ‘Haymaker stepped back behind the pillar near the door which rose up to the skylight. There was no sign of the girl.
Then two men emerged from another door to the side of the altar. One was a young man in his twenties. He was carrying a large leather-bound book. The other man was much older with grey hair and ridiculous facial hair. Then two more men appeared from the same door and then two more after that. The new arrivals were wearing heavier white robes. They last two were carrying something wrapped in black silk. ‘Haymaker’ had seen enough bodies wrapped thus to know what was contained in the sheet. They laid the body carefully on the altar and with infinite care and a theatrical suspense, they unwrapped the sheet.
‘Haymaker’ knew what was coming but still gasped involuntarily as the body of Natalie was revealed. Thankfully, the sound of thunder drowned out his reaction. There were no marks, as far as ‘Haymaker’ could see, on her body. He suspected she had been drugged.
Then he saw one of the robed figures open the cabinet. From inside he took out something that glinted in the candlelight’ head.
A plan unformulated in ‘Haymaker’s’ head.
The knife, when he saw it, was the final confirmation that ‘Haymaker’s’ had no prospect of success. He was unarmed. A knockout punch and an endless reserve of courage was unlikely to prevail against these numbers and someone carrying a knife.
It was hopeless. All was lost.
For the second time that day, ‘Haymaker’ felt like crying.
-
There were two surprises awaiting Kit and Mary as their Rolls pulled up outside the house identified by ‘Haymaker’. The first was the presence of Sergeant Wellbeloved. He spied the convoy, which now comprised two other cars aside from Kit’s and waved. Overhead there was a crash of thunder.
McDonald was first out of the car followed by Kit. As Mary went to join them, Kit turned around to her and raised an eyebrow. Mary stopped for a second and was about to argue when she saw some of McDonald’s men stepping out the cars carrying iron bars. Alice Diamond and Maggie Hill appeared in view. Maggie had a faraway look in her eyes that certainly suggested someone’s night was not going to end well. For once Mary’s discretion was the better part of valour.
‘Perhaps I’ll wait.’
Kit smiled and nodded. Harry Miller appeared alongside him. He handed Kit a Webley revolver. Mary felt her chest constrict. She looked at her fiancé fearfully. Then she remembered he’d probably been through more dangerous moments in his life. So, had she. Their eyes met and they nodded to one another.
‘What are you doing here?’ asked McDonald to Wellbeloved. He didn’t sound welcoming. ‘Are the rozzers coming?’
‘Not yet,’ admitted Wellbeloved just as their faces lit up by lightning overhead.
‘Good,’ replied McDonald. His eyes were fixed in the house. ‘Haymaker’s in there already. He thinks the girl’s there, too.’
This was clearly news to Wellbeloved. He turned to acknowledge Kit who had joined them.
‘Shall we, gentlemen?’ said Kit.
The two men nodded. Then Wellbeloved added, ‘You have ten minutes Wag. No killing. Understand?’
‘Understood’ said McDonald who was already crossing the road with Wal McDonald. Six men and two women crossed the road. All were carrying weapons although only Kit had a gun.
It was when they reached the door that Kit had his second surprise.
38
Eva Kerr looked up at the two women. All three were silent for a moment. Behind them they could hear banging on the door from the room they’d just left.
‘Agatha?’ asked Eva Kerr.
‘Bloody hell,’ said Betty Simpson in an awestruck voice, ‘She really is good.’
Agatha rolled her eyes and looked at Betty.
‘She’s with the police, dear.’
But something in the medium’s tone had posed a question to Agatha with an answer that was impossible. She looked at Eva Kerr again. There was something in her eyes which, thankfully, once more had their irises, that suggested she wasn’t asking a question. It’s tone was of someone you’d met before. But this was impossible, wasn’t it?
Eva Kerr’s attention switched to the door and then back to Agatha. She seemed confused and then Agatha showed her the room key.
The medium nodded and said, ‘Good thinking.’
The two ladies helped Eva Kerr to her feet. She immediately went for the front door.
‘We need to get help. I think they’re holding the girl here. I didn’t have time to find out where. There’s a temple upstairs.’
Agatha and Betty followed her to the door. Eva Kerr pulled the door open. Standing on the doorstep was Kit along with the McDonald brothers and Sergeant Wellbeloved. Everyone stood still for a moment.
‘Ah you’re here,’ said Agatha who, inevitably, was the first to collect herself. ‘Well don’t just stand there.’
They didn’t. All of McDonald’s men and the two women piled into the house followed by Kit and Miller.
‘Aunt Agatha,’ said Kit, ‘Glad to see you’re all right.’
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ responded Agatha irritably. Then she indicated the room they’d left. ‘We’ve locked some of them in there. The man with black and grey beard is part of this. The rest are blithering idiots.’
In the background, Kit could hear Eva Kerr giving Wellbeloved and the Elephant Boys instructions on where they should be going. All at once they began to mount the stairs. Agatha seemed on the point of joining them when she felt an arm restrain her. To her surprise it wasn’t Kit.
‘You need to go home.’
It was Eva Kerr.
‘I’ll be…’
Agatha did not get a chance to expand on this thought as she looked into the eyes of the medium. They were colour of night. Yet light seemed to shine from them. Something deep inside Agatha’s mind was shouting. A voice. A face. But it remained tantalisingly out of reach, like a memory lost. Or buried.
‘You have to go home now. He needs you.’
An image flashed in Agatha’s mind. It was almost as if this woman had placed it there.
‘What’s wrong, dear?’ asked Betty.
‘We have to go,’ said Agatha. She looked at Kit and Harry Miller and snapped h
er fingers. ‘Keys.’
Miller looked reluctant. Kit no less so. Then a look came into Agatha’s eyes that could only be described as murder of the blue kind. A nod from Kit to Miller and Agatha had the keys to the Rolls. Kit, meanwhile, followed Miller up the stairs.
The two women went out into the wet night. They spied Kit’s Rolls parked across the road. Inside they could see Mary waiting. There was a shocked expression on her face when she saw who was coming.
‘Let me drive,’ said Betty.
‘Nonsense,’ retorted Agatha, ‘You’re five sheets to the wind.’
‘Well, really,’ said an affronted Betty Simpson. She glared at her friend and sparring partner all the way to the car. The two ladies quickly climbed inside the car to escape the rain.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Mary.
Agatha started the car prompting Betty to say tartly for Mary’s benefit and her friend’s ears, ‘Apparently no time to explain.’
-
In desolation there is submission. But there is also anger. And ‘Haymaker’s’ tears of sadness, which he shed freely, slowly transformed into rage. They became a free flowing hatred for the people who would end the life of a young woman with so much to live for. Whatever happened, he would make them pay.
He looked around him for a weapon. He saw a walking stick propped up against the wall. Not much. More likely to sting than damage but, it might get him into the fight. If he could just get to the man with the knife. He looked at the older man and a wave of revulsion coursed through his body. A middle-aged man. No, an old man. His life lived. What right had he to decide this young woman’s fate? He stared at him. This would be his target.
Slowly he made his way towards the group. All were standing, intoning some chant that made absolutely no sense to the boxer. They seemed drunk. Some were swaying, others were bent double. The sound they made was unworldly. Low, slow and in a language that was certainly like nothing he’d heard at the Duke of Wellington, even at closing time.
Bit by bit he edged around the outside of the group. No one appeared to pay him the least bit of attention. Soon he’d worked his way to the front. The door from which the men had come was at the other side of the room. ‘Haymaker’ guessed this led to a staircase which might mean a way out. He didn’t want to think of the odds of succeeding.
Around him the pitch of the chanting seemed to be changing. It was a beat quicker. The men arrayed in a semi-circle around the young woman on the altar. The congregation, all completely enclosed within the pentacle, were in front. Suddenly, the older man raised his arm in the air.
Silence.
The young man opened the leather volume and began to read. It seemed a shorter reading than what he remembered from mass. ‘Haymaker’ was almost grateful. His nerves were shot enough as it was.
Then the chanting began again.
The older man stepped forward with the knife. This was it. Now or never. ‘Haymaker’ tensed himself and exploded from the congregation towards the man with the knife. Two of the other priests were battered out of the way as ‘Haymaker’ charged. He caught the older man in the middle of his stomach. He heard a satisfying grunt. The knife fell free. The temple erupted into screams and shouts.
And then all went black for ‘Haymaker’.
-
The McDonald brothers burst through the door just in time to see ‘Haymaker’ rugby tackle the man with the knife. On the altar they saw Natalie. There wasn’t any time to stand and survey the scene. The arrival of the other gang members forced the McDonald brothers forward. Kit and Miller followed on.
Kit saw a young man with a heavy book club ‘Haymaker’ unconscious. The older man was on his feet and Kit cursed himself that he could not see the face, distracted as he was by the assault on the boxer.
This attack was as nothing to the punishment being meted out by the Elephant Boys and Sergeant Wellbeloved. Kit winced as one male neophyte took a swing at the diminutive Maggie Hill. She easily evaded the punch. Where she put her iron, bar gave more than just the man tears in his eyes. Kit could almost feel his pain. Alice Diamond had chosen to forgo any weapon. With good reason, as far as Kit could see. Her fists had already clubbed one male attacker senseless and she was laying into another with gleeful abandon.
Kit hobbled forward and could see the older man escaping out of a door. His young associate was following him when Wag McDonald executed a startling dive that clipped his feet. The young man was on the floor. Seconds later Wal McDonald was on him and that was definitely its own introduction to hell for the young man.
The battle, if the one-sided carnage could be so described, was short, brutal and bloody. Viewing the scene from the door was Eva Kerr. She turned away and calmly walked down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, she went to the phone and picked it up.
‘Whitehall 1212. Yes. Put me through to Chief Inspector Jellicoe immediately. I’ll wait.’
A short wait then she heard a voice on the line.
‘Chief Inspector, this is Eva Kerr. I’m with Sergeant Wellbeloved. We have the Satanists.’
She gave the address before putting the phone down. Then with an unsympathetic glance at the room where the prisoners were still making a commotion, she moved towards the front door. Beside the door was a coat rack and a selection of umbrellas. She picked out a black overcoat but ignored the umbrellas. Then she walked out into the rain and disappeared into the night.
-
Kit’s movements down the stairs were never going to match the other two men. Wag McDonald was giving chase to the other man. Kit felt the prosthetic leg chafing against his skin. Every step was becoming increasingly sore. He looked down at the two figures on the flights below him. Frustratingly he could not see the face of their quarry.
Then he heard a door slam.
The fugitive had escaped, and Wag McDonald was banging the door in anger.
‘Bugger’s escaped,’ exclaimed McDonald as he saw Kit arrive.
Kit took out his revolver.
‘Step back.’
He fired two shots and the door was open. The two men found themselves at the side of the house. An alleyway led to the main street. McDonald raced to the street and Kit could see him looking desperately in both directions. The rain poured down on them both. Finally, he looked up to the heavens. His face lit by lamplight and he screamed in frustration. Kit knew how he felt. Then a thought struck him.
Perhaps it wasn’t over yet. There was still a way.
He went to McDonald as the sound of bells on police cars grew louder.
‘Best to get your men out of there now. Wellbeloved and the police can handle this,’ said Kit.
McDonald nodded and the two men went back inside. Soon they were back in the chapel. Harry Miller and the Elephant Boys had the Satanist neophytes lined against a wall. Miller had a gun trained on them but, in truth, no one was moving a muscle. Maggie Hill was patrolling a foot in front of them dispensing occasional slaps to remind them that the outlook was not good.
Alice Diamond was with ‘Haymaker’. From where he was standing, it was difficult to tell how badly injured he was. Kit went to the altar and checked Natalie’s pulse. Thankfully it was strong. In the background, he could hear McDonald giving orders to his men to make ready to leave.
Kit went to Miller and Wellbeloved as the Elephant Boys evacuated the scene using the back stairs. Kit nodded to Wag McDonald as he exited. Outside on the stairs, Kit could hear a commotion. Moments later Chief Inspector Jellicoe entered. He stopped and surveyed the extraordinary scene before him. Then he took off his hat and shook his head.
‘You have everyone?’
Wellbeloved answered, ‘No. We think their leader escaped.’
Jellicoe nodded, still too astonished to be angry. He walked along the line of rather injured, it must be said, worshippers. There were three women, not young but not elderly, whimpering. A few of the men were whimpering, too. One man wasn’t. The young man who’d assaulted ‘Haymaker’ looked at
Jellicoe with burning eyes.
Jellicoe smiled at him. The young man was startled by this, but the click of Miller’s revolver stopped him. Then Jellicoe turned to Kit.
‘One of these people will talk. We’ll find him. Anyway,’ said Jellicoe, turning back to the young man, ‘we may have a lead on him. He won’t get far.’
He turned to the young man and stared at him again.
‘And who might you be?’ asked Jellicoe.
A look of contempt crossed the man’s face. Kit left Natalie and went over to the Chief Inspector.
‘Meet Xander Lewis, Chief Inspector. He’s the son of Lord Lewis. He of the conglomerate, Lewis & Wolf.’
Lewis snarled a reply that was more Anglo Saxon than Satanic-Latin.
Kit ignored Lewis and turned back to Jellicoe, ‘We’ll need an ambulance for Mr Harris. He’s a hero. His actions unquestionably saved Natalie’s life.’
Jellicoe nodded then turned to a uniformed sergeant, ‘Take them away.’
39
Esther Cavendish and Richard Bright knocked on the door of Agatha’s Grosvenor Square mansion. No answer. Esther knocked again. Again, there was nothing.
‘Do you have a key, darling?’
Esther shook her head.
‘I went out without it. Sorry.’
Bright looked at his watch. The time read quarter after ten. He shrugged to Esther and decided to give the door frame a more robust test than the genteel rap recorded by his fiancée. It was cold and wet. He wanted to be indoors.
Finally, after another firm rap, they could hear the sound of the door opening. It was Mary. There were tears in her eyes.
‘Richard,’ she exclaimed, ‘I’m so glad you’re here. Come quickly.’
The three young people hurried downstairs to the servant’s quarters. Mary was too upset to say anything more. They arrived at the bottom of the stairs and made straight for the Fish’s bedroom. For once there was no music.
