He sighed and pronounced it for her. “Ka . . . thoo . . . loo. But as you do, just imagine the words to be true. He did make these things public, only they had to be dressed up as fiction or they would never have seen the light of day.”
“Okay . . .” From the hesitant tone of her voice it didn’t sound okay at all, and it certainly didn’t sound as if she was going to do what he’d said. Perhaps playing the crazy card would have been a better option.
“Just forget everything I’ve said, Karen. With any luck your story will do very well for you, I’ll be able to go back to the States, and we can forget any of this ever happened.”
He heard her sigh of relief as he put the phone down. For all he knew, it was all over. He’d call Washington in the morning. They’d probably ask him to stay another couple of days, just to make sure everything was blowing over. Then he’d be able to go home.
He truly hoped it was all over.
But of course, he was wrong.
News of Britain, Monday November 14, 1994
WIN FOUR NIGHTS IN THE MOST HAUNTED PLACE EVER!
Creepier than Dracula’s Castle . . .
More terrifying than The Overlook Hotel from The Shining . . .
More thrilling than any haunted house . . .
This place is scarier than all of them put together.
And it’s REAL!
Do some REAL ghost hunting with a team of REAL experts—right here in the United Kingdom!
Yes, your great value News of Britain is giving YOU the chance to spend four nights inside All Hallows Church—the MOST HAUNTED place in the country!
Two lucky, lucky winners will join the News of Britain’s intrepid team of expert ghost hunters for one of the most intensive investigations into the paranormal ever performed! And YOU could be right there alongside them!
All you have to do for a chance to win is answer the trivia question we’ve set you below. Then either call our competition hotline number, or write your answer on the back of a postcard and send it to our usual address. Competition closes one week from today, after which the lucky winners will be notified!
Have a go! You KNOW ghosts are fun!
Here’s the question: What is the name of the haunted hotel in the classic film The Shining?
SEVEN
Thursday, December 22, 1994. 5:03 A.M.
ALL HALLOWS CHURCH.
Father Michael Traynor allowed the taxi that had brought him to this place to disappear down Blackheath Road before turning to face the building, almost as if he didn’t want any witnesses to his entering it. Certainly there didn’t seem to be anyone else around at this time on a Thursday morning—not even a jogger straying from the tried and trusted paths on Greenwich Common. But then there were enough stories about this church that all but the most foolhardy stayed away. Like the tale of those two boys last year who had disappeared. The whereabouts of one of them was still a mystery, and the other was undergoing psychiatric counseling that as far as he knew had so far been unsuccessful.
Father Traynor had wanted to arrive before the rest of them anyway. In fact he had been requested to, by powers he simply could not refuse. A distant clock tower chimed six as he hefted the heavy bags he had brought with him and approached the perimeter fence. The tower of the building in front of him remained silent—thirty feet of black Victorian stone, dead to the world and all its concerns.
No, he reminded himself, not dead. Not if what he had been told before coming here turned out to be true.
He had no reason to believe the stories he had been briefed with, other than that they had come from the highest authority the Catholic Church had as representation in the country, and that individual had received his instructions directly from the Vatican itself.
Father Traynor still found it difficult to believe that it had only been a week ago that he had been called into the office of Cardinal William Thomas, better known in most circles as the current serving Archbishop of Westminster Cathedral. The elderly man, resplendent in his scarlet robes of office, had bade his younger associate sit even though his attendants—two men also of advancing years and garbed in more restrained black vestments trimmed with scarlet cord—had not been granted such an honor; and while they addressed their Archbishop with all the respect due a man of his station, Michael could see they had nothing but jealous disdain for the little priest who had been permitted to sit in his presence.
“Father Michael,” the old man’s words were kind but firm, and his eyes betrayed the seriousness of this situation, whatever it was. “How long have you been with us?”
The priest had been unsure exactly what the Cardinal meant. “Do you mean Westminster, or the Catholic Church?”
“I mean, how long is it now since you were ordained?”
He had to think about that, not because he was unsure, but because it still seemed so recent that individuals like Cardinal Thomas still greatly intimidated him. He took a sip of water from the crystal goblet on the desk in front of him before answering.
“Five years.”
The attendants’ feathers were ruffled by that. It was all but imperceptible, but he had more than once been complimented by his educators on his empathic nature, and he could tell they weren’t happy.
“Five years.”
The Archbishop leaned back in his chair. The studded upholstery creaked with the sound of the finest and most expensive oxblood leather stretching gently. “And you have been with us in Westminster for just two of those, is that not so?”
Father Traynor nodded.
“In that case you may find the request I am about to make of you somewhat curious, but let me assure you this has been discussed among the highest and most eminent of our Holy Mother Church. And, after due meditation and consultation with Our Lord and the Most Holy Virgin Mother, it has been decided that you, Father Michael Traynor, are the one whom God has selected to take on a most challenging of burdens.”
Traynor’s mind was already racing as to what the request might be. He could not believe that he was being sent to a parish in the needy East End, or even further afield to Africa or South America. The attendants were too unsettled for that. Suddenly, and for no reason he could fathom, he was reminded of the parable of the prodigal son, with himself playing the role of the fatted calf. The opulence of his surroundings, the comfort of the chair, the fineness of the goblet from which he was drinking, the very attitude of the Archbishop himself made him wonder if this was all preparation for some extremely honorable, but nevertheless extremely unpleasant, undertaking.
Cardinal Thomas took a sip of the wine that had been poured for him. Then he fixed Father Michael with a steely gaze, and said three words.
“All Hallows Church.”
An uneasy silence fell upon the room, made all the more so by Father Traynor’s fidgeting as he tried to remember where he had heard that name before. Eventually, he had to give up trying and just sat in awkward silence, much to the delight of the two attendants.
“I take it you are not familiar with it?”
Traynor had assumed that was probably obvious by now. “I am afraid not, Your Grace,” he said, trying to sound as humble as possible. It wasn’t difficult.
“The Lord has an important task for you to perform at All Hallows Church, one that will require all of your courage, resourcefulness, and compassion for the poor souls destined to enter within its walls.” The Cardinal had finished his glass of wine and was being poured another. He raised an eyebrow and repeated the offer he had made when the priest had entered the room. “Are you sure you would not like one?”
Yes, yes, he would love one, but that was all behind him now, and he was not about to succumb to temptation in front of the only man he had more respect and love for in the entire world other than Pope John Paul II himself.
“No thank you,” he replied, praying that God would give him the strength not to be forcing the words out between gritted teeth. “But some more water would be most welcome.”
The fatter of the two attendants—a Father Carlo—was awarded the unasked-for honor of refilling Father Michael’s glass. His scowl remained concealed from everyone but the person for whom it was intended. Father Michael responded with the nervous smile he always employed in confrontations.
“All Hallows Church is in Blackheath, south London. It has an . . . eventful past.” The Cardinal was sitting back again now, his fingertips touching to form a pyramid above which he regarded the young priest. “It isn’t in use now. In fact it hasn’t been in use for the past twenty years. A perimeter fence of barbed-wire five feet high surrounds it, and the gate by which the grounds may be accessed is secured with a heavy length of chain that I am reliably informed is so old the links have rusted and become welded together by the damp of twenty of our winters, followed, as surely as night follows day, by the heat of twenty summers. The key to the padlock is not locatable and the situation is likely to remain that way.”
Traynor was intrigued, even if he was still not entirely sure why he was being told all this. “It’s desanctified, then?”
The Archbishop nodded. “It was a more difficult ritual than one usually encounters in such cases, but the details of All Hallows’ desanctification can wait for another time. We need you to go there.”
That came out of the blue. “You do?” Traynor’s response came haltingly and was immediately followed by “Why?”
“Do you read the popular newspapers?”
He didn’t and he was quite proud of the fact. He didn’t say that, though. Instead, he just shook his head.
“Then you won’t be aware of this.”
The Cardinal held out his right hand. His gloves were the same shade of scarlet as the rest of his garments. The thinner of the attendants, a Father Daniel, handed him a copy of a tabloid newspaper which he proceeded to pass to Father Traynor.
“‘Top Team to Enter Most Haunted Place in Britain.’” Traynor read the headline aloud, assuming that was what the Archbishop wished his attention drawn to. “Do they mean All Hallows?”
“They do indeed.” Cardinal Thomas lowered his voice to almost a whisper, as if even he was a little embarrassed about what he was about to reveal. “All Hallows Church was a place of Catholic worship until the mid-1970s. It was eventually closed because of a number of incidents that had occurred in and around its location. What the Catholic church might describe as ‘Significant Incidents,’ taking place over the preceding one hundred and fifty years.”
Traynor blinked. “One hundred and fifty years? You mean since—”
“Since the 1800s, yes, when it was rebuilt after a fire destroyed much of the main structure. The Victorians gave All Hallows a fine rebuild, but unfortunately even the very best granite and a series of priests dedicated to the care and protection of their parishioners couldn’t prevent the terrible things that have happened there.”
A twinge of fear clutched at Father Traynor’s insides. “Terrible things? Like what?”
“It is . . . best you do not know.” From the tone of his voice it sounded as if even Cardinal Thomas was reluctant to repeat the catalog of atrocities that must have taken place there. “Suffice to say that by the time the church was closed, a considerable amount of antireligious, and specifically anti-Catholic fervor had been fomented in the surrounding area.” He leaned forward, his voice a dry rasp. “They thought it was our fault, you see. How could God exist in Blackheath if He allowed such terrible things to take place? How could His priests be so powerless? How could the Devil be so strong? They were dark times for our church in that part of London, dark times indeed, and it is only with the passage of time that such things have been . . . mostly . . . forgotten.”
“These terrible things—” Traynor was still trying to imagine what they could possibly be, “—they stopped when All Hallows was closed?”
“And desanctified—yes. At least . . . for the most part. But the Church is worried that if people once again cross its borders and walk within its walls, the old troubles may be stirred up. There is also the concern that, somewhere within the building, perhaps even hidden within the undercroft or the crypt, there may be records, documents written by the priests who were brave enough to shoulder the heavy burden of responsibility of looking after that difficult parish.”
The Cardinal paused there, both to take a breath and a further sip of wine. When Traynor made no indication that he wished to speak, the Archbishop continued.
“Can you imagine what a potential disaster it could be if those documents were discovered?” He pointed at the newspaper. “By people who write the kind of thing one can find in this . . . rag? It could prove very difficult for all of us. Very difficult indeed.”
Father Traynor looked at the newspaper, then he looked at the Archbishop again. The attendants were smiling now. Obviously they had not been privy to the plan Cardinal Thomas had for him.
“You want me to go to All Hallows?”
The Archbishop tapped the newspaper with a finger sheathed in red silk.
“You haven’t read closely enough, have you?”
Traynor picked up the newspaper and began to read in earnest. Following the amazing discovery of what was being postulated as the missing story from Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales, as well as bones that could well be the actual remains of the writer, lawyer, minister, and member of the court of King Edward III, a team had been assembled to investigate what many believed to be the most haunted place in Britain, if not the world.
The scrolls on which the story had been written were in the care of the British Museum, which was still declining to comment at this stage. However, thanks to the tireless efforts of journalist Karen Shepworth (Father Traynor couldn’t help noticing it was her name on the byline as well), many of the salient points of the story, entitled “The Soothsayer’s Tale,” had been obtained and verified thanks to the assistance of sources at Oxford University who preferred to remain anonymous. Many of the events described in the tale centered around the area of Blackheath in general, and the site where All Hallows Church would eventually be built in particular. It was even rumored that the tale, which could not have been written later than the year 1400 (the presumed year of Chaucer’s death, or possibly even murder), described All Hallows Church itself, and predicted some of the terrible events it had been witness to over many decades.
Since the scrolls were not available, and were not likely to be made so for some considerable time, according to officials at the British Museum, the “Brave and Enterprising” News of Britain had therefore decided to launch a detailed investigation into the place “The Soothsayer’s Tale” had described as playing a key role in the country’s future.
A team consisting of the paper’s very own investigative reporter Karen Shepworth, a parapsychologist, a scientist, an expert on Medieval English studies, a priest, and of course the two lucky winners of the paper’s “Win Four Nights in the Most Haunted Place Ever” competition, would be taking part in the biggest ghost-busting investigation ever to be covered by a major newspaper.
The team would enter the church on Thursday, the 22nd of December and would remain inside for four days and four nights, emerging on Boxing Day morning to exclusive press and television coverage from the News of Britain and the Stratus TV Channel, both members of the Bromsey Group of Companies. Each member of the team had been profiled in detail in the paper’s special “Ghostly Pull Out” section.
“It would probably be in your interest to take a look at that too.” He waited for Traynor to find the right pages and read through them. When he got to the relevant part, the Cardinal chimed in with an explanation.
“We could not allow such an expedition to take place without one of our own being part of it,” he said. “And so, once we had learned that this . . . investigation was to take place we contacted the appropriate bodies and explained that it would be only right that a member of our Holy Mother Church be present on what used to be God’s sacred ground.” He gave a tiny chuckle. It was the firs
t real expression of emotion Traynor had seen him betray since the meeting had begun. “Can you believe they hadn’t actually thought of including a priest in their group? We were told some nonsense about how we had not been approached because ‘it was assumed that the Catholic Church would not wish to be associated with a publicity stunt’ and that ‘All Hallows has not been a place of worship for at least twenty years anyway.’”
“I must confess,” Traynor said, finally finding his voice again, “in all my time as a member of the priesthood, which I appreciate has been nowhere near as long as your many years of devotion, I have always understood that our Holy Mother Church prefers not to involve itself in events such as this.”
The Cardinal nodded. “In most cases, ninety-nine percent of them in fact, that would be true. But, as I hope I have already explained, All Hallows Church is a special instance. A very special instance indeed.”
Traynor frowned before he could stop himself. He didn’t feel as if anything had really been explained to him at all.
“So you wish me to join the team investigating All Hallows Church?”
“We do.”
“And you wish me to keep you informed as to how their efforts are progressing?”
The Cardinal shook his head and tapped the newspaper again. “If you read on you will see that, as part of their ‘show,’ the News of Britain has decreed that you will all be sealed inside the church for the four-day period. You will not be able to communicate with us, nor with anyone else from the outside world, during this time.”
“So . . .” Traynor was still unsure of his brief. “What do you want me to say when we come out?”
“Nothing controversial, obviously, but I am sure we can all trust you to be sensible about that. To be honest, it’s not how you behave when you emerge that is of concern to us, but more the activities you undertake once you are inside.”
“Inside? Am I to offer succor to the other members of the team?”
“If you feel it appropriate, but the most important task with which we, and therefore our Holy Mother Church, and therefore God, are charging you is to make sure no member of this team finds anything that might bring us into disrepute.”
The Lovecraft Squad Page 7
