Something Stinks in Deep Cove (The Vellian Books Book 4)

by Reed, Grant T.

  “It’s just up here,” said Bael to Garrett. “There’s a slope of loose rock leading into the cave, I think you’ll need some help with your friend.” The cracking of stone on stone reverberated down the canyon, followed by a wailing howl that pierced the night.

  “I told you!” shrieked Avros, doubling his efforts to reach the cave. Bael’s look was one of horror as he risked a glance behind them. Rushing to Garrett’s side, he helped Garrett lower Willie, and they each took one of the bowman’s arms as they dragged him up the hill. The sweat on Garrett’s back was suddenly ice cold as he slipped on the loose rocks and lost his hold on the strap of Willie’s quiver. He felt as though he couldn’t move, his limbs swollen with fear. At last, he risked a glance up the valley, but as of yet, there was no sign of the creature. He could hear it moving down the trail, though, and his mouth was dry with the thought of what was to come.

  Bael helped Garrett haul Willie up the steep incline and over a lip of stone. They found themselves on a narrow shelf of rock. In front of them, an opening into a shallow cave was too wide to be useful in any real defense against the creature. “Come on,” hissed Bael, pulling Willie toward the darkness of the cave. “The fire,” he yelled at his brother. “Maybe we can scare it off.” Pointing at Garrett, he grunted, ‘Ready your bow.”

  Garrett ignored him and stumbled into the darkness, tripping on a bedroll. He dropped the Impaler beneath him as Avros struck his flint. “The arrows are at the bottom of the slope,” gasped Garrett, out of breath.

  Outside the cave, a cascade of rocks skittered under the weight of the creature. Then, all sound of the Devil’s movement ceased. The only noises were Avros’ frantic striking of stone on flint, and the ragged breathing of the men inside the cave.

  And then, the beast roared.

  9

  Old Enemies

  The morning dragged on as prosecutor Thompson examined his six witnesses. Security guard Godle; health and safety member Mathias; and four members of the council, including the Mayor had all taken the stand. All of these witnesses – with the exception of Mathias - had been present during the beating of Old Man Potty. Approaching the bench, Thompson had supplied Judge Perew with a further fifteen police reports, which had been collected from other guests at the plant on the night of the murder. All accounts told an identical tale, and none of them favoured Merle’s case.

  “Before I call my next witness, Your Honour, I would like to enter the following report as article twenty-two. This incident report was taken down by a supervisor on the day shift, on the day of the murder, and was filed by three of his coworkers at the plant, who were on cigarette break during their lunchtime.” He approached the bench, and then Merle, giving each of them a copy of his report. “Included are statements from all three coworkers present, indicating that the defendant’s golem was spotted scrubbing a section of ground piping on the complex that afternoon and was overheard to say the following:

  “Those Pottys are foul. This time, I’ll rub them out for good. Tonight, I take out the trash.” Thompson folded his report and raised an eyebrow at the jurors. “I don’t think there can be any doubt as to what he meant.” He returned his copy to his desk. “I will now call my next witness. Not only was she one of the employees that filed the report I just read from, but she was also, in fact, the last person to speak with Mr. Potty on the night of his death.” He paused, searching the crowd for his witness. “Mrs. Gretta Cordell, if you will take the stand please.”

  Mrs. Cordell, a plump woman in a floral print dress, eased herself off her bench seat. Her white hair was secured in a bun and a black veil of mourning covered most of her face. The old woman tottered down the aisle with the aid of a cane, her knees cracking as she hauled herself into the booth. She settled in with a slight sigh.

  Bailiff Oppie swore the woman in, and Thompson approached the witness with an assuring look. “I know this is hard for you, ma’am, but if you would be so kind as to share your story with the jury. Please tell us what it is you do for the Pottys.”

  “I prepare the meals for the workers,” said Mrs. Cordell.

  “So you are the lunch lady,” clarified Thompson. “Isn’t it a little out of the ordinary for businesses to provide meals for their workers? Not to mention, such a nice place for them to share their meals?”

  “Yes sir. Mr. Potty liked to save a coin, that’s for sure, but he also knew that the productivity of happy workers is greater than that of unhappy workers. He told me so, hisself.”

  Thompson turned to the jurors, “Yet another example of Mr. Potty’s altruism.” He nodded for Mrs. Cordell to continue. “As I have told the jury, ma’am, you were one of the workers that filed the report I just read from?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “And in your opinion, did it sound as if the Germinator was out for revenge?”

  “Objection, Your Honour. Use of a slanderous nickname!” stammered Merle, from his desk.

  “Denied,” returned Judge Perew. “The defendant is well known in gladiatorial circles as the ‘Germinator.’ You may answer the question, Mrs. Cordell.

  Mrs Cordell seemed lost after Merle’s interruption. The prosecutor cleared his throat to gain her attention again. “Did it seem to you like the Germinator wanted retribution, ma’am?”

  “Retribution? Oh yes,” answered the elderly lady, “he definitely had a one track mind.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Cordell. Can you now tell us what you witnessed that very night?”

  “Oh, it was frightful,” she said. “Mr. Potty and I were talking about next week’s meals, by the seafood table. He had just finished two jumbo shrimps and asked to have them added to the plant menu, when that monster burst into the room.”

  “At this time, did Mr. Potty say anything to you?”

  “He said that it wasn’t fair to the rest of the staff, to have a menu planned only around his likings.”

  “I meant about the intruder, ma’am. Did Mr. Potty say anything about the appearance of the Germinator?”

  “Well, he looked rather upset, and perhaps sickened by the idea of doing battle with that metal monster, but I believe his last words were, ‘Let’s get it on’.”

  “Let’s get it on!” yelled Thompson, spinning to the jurors. His voice was so loud, that several people in the crowd jumped nervously. “He didn’t cry out in fear, nor did he call for security. Here was a man as courageous as he was generous, folks. We can only surmise that when he saw the Germinator burst into that lunchroom, he knew the golem had come to finish what it had started the day before, and what it had threatened to do that very afternoon.” Thompson retraced his steps back to his desk. “I have no doubt the report filed by Mrs. Cordell and her fellow workers made its way back to Mr. Potty. Although this report did not save his life, it surely prepared him for the inevitable showdown that took place. Thank you for your efforts, Mrs. Cordell. You are a guiding light for all of us.” He steepled his hands together and bowed to the old lady. She smiled beneath her veil, her white skin turning a visible crimson blush. “We’ve already heard in great detail from the other witnesses about the beating that ensued, and I will not put you through the discomfort of reliving it again. You have heard the other witness accounts, do you agree it happened as they have outlined?”

  “I do.” The old lady’s head nodded, her bun bobbing up and down.

  “Then, thank you for your time, ma’am. You are excused.” Thompson helped his witness from the booth before turning back to the jurors. “You already know my opinion on this, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Did the creature do as he was bid by Merle or Mr. Willigins, or did he commit the grisly murder on his own? Regardless of whether or not the creation known as the Germinator has independent thought, his masters need to be punished for this machine’s actions.” Mr. Thompson swaggered back to his table, stopping mid-way to point a lazy finger at Merle. “The dragon will tell you that neither he nor his partner, Mr. Willigins, ordered the Golem to attack Mr. Potty. No, he would like you to
believe that all three of them are innocent. However, we know from the facts presented to you, and given the timeline you have received, that no man can deny the Germinator’s guilt.”

  “Objection!” squawked Merle. “The golem, myself, and Garrett are presumed innocent until proven guilty.”

  “No need, Your Honour,” affirmed Thompson holding a hand up to stall the judge. Judge Perew harrumphed to himself and settled back into his seat with a glare that went unnoticed by Thompson.

  “I promised to demonstrate that this creation has the wherewithal to govern himself, and I shall do so. Firstly, I would like to enter this police statement that was taken on the night of the murder as article twenty-three.”

  Judge Perew was busy picking at his teeth with a pinky finger, but nodded to the bailiff to bring him his copy. “Noted,” he said, sucking the digit clean and clearing a spot for the report.

  “I will now read the Germinator’s response, as quoted by the arresting officers after someone yelled: Get down you dirty golem, before I put you down.” Thompson cleared his throat and faced the jury.

  “Golem? Did this cretin just refer to me as a golem? I’ll have you know that I am a highly developed wonder of ingenuity. A technological marvel! Golems are clumsy stupid beings who must follow a pre-programmed mandate to operate. I am self-sufficient and capable of leading a healthy and meaningful existence, without the interference of a governing.” Thompson finished reading and folded his paper in two. “There you have it, ladies and gentlemen, straight from the metal man himself.”

  “What?” asked the Judge. He flipped his copy around to look at the back of the report. “It’s incomplete,” he said in confusion.

  “No, Your Honour, the statement is complete. That’s when the police tackled the golem and brought him down. I’m sure we can all agree that the golem’s next word would have been ‘body’, thus completing the statement ‘I am self-sufficient and capable of leading a healthy and meaningful existence without the interference of a governing body.’

  Several of the jurors nodded, scowls in place. Merle knew there was no point in arguing as he himself had heard that speech from P.C. a hundred times.

  “And now that you have heard this damning statement from the golem, I would like to call my next witness to the stand: Mr. John Irwin Quail. Most of you know him better by his professional name, Johnny I.Q.”

  The double doors at the back of the courtroom slammed inwards, one of them busting free of its hinges and dangling to the side. The crowd jumped as one, sucking in a collective breath. A skinny man in a plaid pair of pants marched into the room. Adjusting his thick rimmed spectacles, he surveyed the onlookers. Satisfied with the turn out, the man hooked his thumbs into his suspenders and marched down the center aisle. Behind him, the opening to the outside world was blocked by four and a half tons of graceless granite.

  The giant golem that followed Johnny was covered in cracks. The largest of these were slathered with rough cement. Jerking along behind its master, the Abominable Stoneman looked to be laboring hard as he shuffled forward. People screamed to get out of the way as the lumbering behemoth crushed his way down the center aisle. Benches splintered and were thrust aside under the massive weight of Stoneman’s powerful legs.

  “Order!” screamed Judge Perew. He was now standing behind his bench, a mix of fear and awe on his unforgiving face. “What is the meaning of this Thompssssonnnn?” The prosecutor’s name came out as a high pitched shriek.

  Thompson held up a hand to Johnny, who in turn halted the golem’s progress. “That’s far enough, big guy,” ordered Johnny in a nasally tone. “These people can see the devastation you have endured.” Johnny sauntered up to the witness box and looked up at the judge. “I’m ready for your hot seat,” he said unflappably.

  The judge scowled at Thompson, his face a mask of anger. “What gives you the right to bring that thing in here? It’s destroyed government property!”

  “Yes, judge,” agreed Thompson hurriedly. “I think Mr. I.Q. may have misunderstood his summons. I am sure he will pay for the damages.” Thompson nodded for Johnny to enter the box.

  “Whatever,” said Johnny dismissively. He seated himself and straightened his robin’s-egg-blue bowtie. “I did not misunderstand the summons. The people need to see what his,” he drew out the word and flicked an obscene gesture at Merle, “golem needlessly inflicted on Stoneman. If I have to pay for a few benches to get my point across, I will see justice done.”

  “You’re paying for that door, too, I assure you!” informed Perew. The judge seated himself and scowled at the skinny newcomer until the smaller man shrugged in agreement.

  Thompson marched up to the juror’s booth to get their attention. “What you are seeing before you, ladies and gentlemen, is Cassadia’s most famous sporting golem. Winner of eighty-four sanctioned bouts, the Abominable Stoneman’s career came to a crashing halt – literally – when Mr. I.Q. was forced, due to his contractual obligations, to partake in an amateur bout right here in Deep Cove. That’s right folks, the damages you see to this once powerful creation, were inflicted by the not so impotent toilet scrubber known as the Germinator.

  “Now, Mr. I.Q., I would like you to explain to the courtroom, how the powerful figure of Stoneman was disfigured so horribly. Take your time. I know this is painful for you.”

  “That thing cheated!” shrieked Johnny from his seat. “First and foremost, that bloody golem left the ring within the first two minutes of the battle!”

  “He left the ring?” asked Thompson.

  “Yes,” agreed Johnny excitedly. “He latched onto a rope high above the combatants and hauled himself up to the ceiling. The rules clearly state that no flying golems are allowed to enter into combat inside the arena.”

  “Shouldn’t that have been a disqualification?” asked Thompson.

  “It should have, but your Deep Cove Officials turned a blind eye and the bout continued. I knew right then and there, the judges had been paid off.”

  “Objection,” shouted Merle. “Firstly, it’s untrue, and secondly, it’s unfounded.”

  Perew nodded. “I am instructing the jury to ignore that last witness comment. Keep to the facts, Mr. I.Q.”

  Johnny looked unrattled as he continued. “I managed to fire off a trap – a net full of boulders, which toppled the Germinator back into the ring and into the hands of my Stoneman. All the while, I shouted commands to Stoneman, which he obeyed.”

  “So, in order to have Stoneman punch his opponent, you must tell him to do so.”

  “That’s right. I give the orders, and he follows them like any good golem.”

  “And at any time during the bout, did you hear the defendant, Mr. Merle, shout any commands to the Germinator.”

  “I did not,” said Johnny angrily. “That damn Germinator was operating on his own. He would have been finished too, but once again he cheated.”

  “How so?” asked Thompson. The prosecutor leaned against the juror’s box, his rapt attention on the skinny witness along with the rest of the jury.

  “Somehow, that thing copied my voice,” whined Johnny. Many in the crowd gasped at this diabolical information, and Merle saw fear creep onto the faces of several jurors.

  “Witchcraft!” someone yelled from the back of the courtroom.

  “Order,” growled Perew, scanning the crowd but unable to locate the offending party.

  “That metal guy started issuing commands to Stoneman with my voice, and poor Stoneman could do nothing but obey,” continued Johnny. “And with the corrupt judges in place, I knew there could be only one outcome.”

  “Objection,” howled Merle. The dragon slammed the top of his desk with a paw for emphasis.

  “Strike that,” said Perew, locking eyes with Johnny. “You have been warned to keep to the facts, Mr. I.Q. Keep this up, and you will be fined.”

  “I have oodles of money,” Johnny shot back.

  “Two thousand Gons,” shrieked Perew.

  “Why
not four,” shouted Johnny. “The truth is worth more.” He half stood, his eyes never leaving the judge and his hands gripping the railing in front of him.

  The judge gurgled in anger; his blood shot eyes were full of rage. “Four thousand, it is,” he said, at last, in a reasonably even tone. “That is on top of the damages your golem has caused here today. If I have to speak to you again, you will be sentenced to thirty days hard labor in the quarry.” The judge pierced Johnny’s defenses with a grin, and Johnny shrank back into his booth.

  “I am sure there will be no need for that, Your Honour,” interjected Thompson. Addressing his witness, he held out a hand to forestall the small man before he said anything else stupid. “Feeling that the match may have been rigged, you knew there could be only one outcome,” he reiterated. “Please go on from there, Mr. I.Q.”

  Johnny tugged on his blue bowtie in irritation before resuming his tale. “Using my voice to control Stoneman, that metal turd made my pet dance atop the grate covering the fire trap. Stoneman fell through the iron lattice and an explosion of flaming oil engulfed my poor golem. He burned horribly.” Johnny looked as though he might cry at the memory. “Then, when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, he ordered my Stoneman out of the pit. He told Stoneman to run, angling him toward the frost discharging sphere at the opposite end of the arena.” Johnny swallowed and shook his head. “I knew then what he had planned for my Stoneman.” Johnny trembled, unable to continue.

  “It’s okay,” assured Thompson. “With your help, we are going to stop this Germinator from hurting anyone, ever again. Please continue.” The courtroom was silent, a mix of horror and pity etched onto the faces of those gathered.

  “I knew I had to admit defeat. Not for me, but for my Stoneman.” Johnny sobbed and his shoulders buckled. He removed his glasses and wiped at the tears running down his cheeks. “I reached for the white towel beside me and I hurled it into the ring.”