by G. P. Taylor
‘You’re mad, Mr Grimm – who could I hide in this room? How did they get by you?’
Grimm looked up. There, dangling from the catch of the skylight, was a small piece of fabric torn from Mariah’s coat.
Grimm looked at the chair nearby and saw footprints in the dust.
‘Doesn’t take a great detective to see that – does it?’ he asked as he pointed to the footprints. ‘Came in through the window on the roof – you must have let him in – and is now hiding in this box.’ Grimm took a pistol from the pocket of his coat and aimed it at the long, thin box. ‘Makes an ideal place to die – can just bury him in that – eh, Mariah Mundi?’
Grimm spoke as if he knew who was hiding in the blanket box – gone was the discontent from his voice.
‘There’s no one here,’ Sacha pleaded. ‘I had just opened the window to get some air – you can smell the sea.’
‘Footprints – torn cloth – the stink of fear,’ Grimm gloated. ‘Come out, boy, and let me see your face once more.’
There was no sound. Sacha stared at where she had seen Mariah hide. Grimm waited, pistol at the ready. He pulled back the hammer until it clicked, ready to fire.
‘Last chance, Mariah Mundi – last chance!’ Grimm shouted.
‘He’s got a gun – come out, Mariah!’ Sacha insisted.
Grimm kicked open the lid of the box and pointed the pistol within. The box was empty.
‘He was here,’ Grimm said as he looked about the room. ‘So why did you trick me?’
‘I never … I thought –’
‘He can’t just vanish, can he?’ Grimm asked as he turned his back to the bed.
Sacha stared in disbelief. Rising from the shadows in the corner of the room, like a spectral ghost, was Mariah. He picked the washing jug from its stand and quietly followed Grimm across the room as he walked towards Sacha. He stalked him step by step. With each pace he drew closer until he was within a distance to strike.
‘You going to tell me where he’s gone?’ Grimm asked,
unaware he was being followed. ‘Tell me or it’s going to hurt – hurt very badly,’ he said, pointing the gun at her. ‘Sadly for you, Miss Sacha, there has been a change in plan. There are powers that believe you shouldn’t live beyond this night. Get your things – we are going on a short journey.’
Grimm didn’t finish what he was about to say. As the man spoke, so Mariah struck. It was a single blow. Hard, fast and aimed to the back of Grimm’s head. There was a dull thud and then the sound of splintering pot, which exploded into a thousand shards. Grimm slumped to the floor with a dreary groan.
‘Told you they would kill you,’ Mariah said in the way he always did when he thought he was right. ‘Best be taking this,’ he went on as he took the pistol from Grimm’s still hand.
‘How did you get out of the box?’ Sacha asked. ‘I saw you hide in there.’
‘Easy. I am a magician’s apprentice,’ Mariah replied, finding himself smiling for the first time.
Grimm groaned and tried to lift his head from the floor.
‘We’ll never escape,’ Sacha said as Grimm tried to get to his feet. ‘There are men downstairs and we’ll never get out.’
‘We have no choice,’ Mariah replied as he stepped over Grimm’s body, knocking him to the floor yet again. ‘There must be more than one way from this place.’
‘They brought me up the stairs – but there was a landing off to the right. There is a barrack room below with a mess hall to the side – that’s all I could see when they took me from the coffin.’
‘Then we’ll go this way,’ Mariah said, pointing to the long hallway that led from the open door to the rooms in the attic of the guard house. Mariah stepped out of the room and took a last look at Grimm. He appeared to be unconscious, his face buried in the rug by the fire. Sacha followed on. Just as she was about to step outside a hand grabbed her by the ankle. She
turned and saw Grimm clutching at her leg. He seemed unable to speak and mouthed words she could not understand. Sacha tried to shake him free. His grip became tighter and tighter.
‘Mariah,’ she said under her breath hoping he would hear. ‘Quickly! Grimm has me …’
Mariah came back into the room and quietly closed the door. Grimm moaned, trying to remember how to speak.
‘Get off her, Grimm,’ Mariah said as he held the gun to his head.
Grimm just smiled, unsure what was happening, knowing only that he had to keep the girl where she was.
Mariah looked up, took a coil of rope from a hook on the ceiling and prised Grimm’s hand from Sacha, and then he tied the man up as tightly as he could. Together they coiled the rope around the detective until he was like a fat wasps’ nest and unable to move. Grimm’s head lolled from side to side as he dribbled down his cheek.
‘Leave him here,’ Mariah said as he pushed Grimm onto the bed and then wrapped him in the thick blanket. ‘Stay where you are, Mr Grimm,’ Mariah whispered in his ear, ‘and if you ever try to kill Sacha – you’ll have to kill me first.’ Mariah stuffed a corner of the blanket in Grimm’s mouth. ‘Until we meet again …’
Grimm smiled and winced at the same time. It was as if he couldn’t understand what Mariah had said.
Closing the door behind them, Mariah and Sacha crept onto the gloomy landing. It was lit by a smoking oil lamp above the furthest doorway. Mariah could smell fermenting cabbage and lamb stew. Far below he could hear snoring and the crackle of a fire and from somewhere nearby the sound of the cellist playing on and on. He wondered why so late at night, and why no one had told the player to stop. The sound was haunting and sent a chill through his spine. It reminded him of the music he
would hear as he passed old Bloomsbury churches with black carriages outside and crying people. It was sullen and joyless – and it came from behind a door on the landing.
‘Who can it be?’ Sacha asked as they got nearer to the door.
‘We can’t chance to find out,’ he replied as he passed the door and noticed that the key was on the outside and the bolt slid firmly shut. ‘Whoever is in there is a prisoner.’
‘We could set him free,’ Sacha said as she stopped and glanced at Mariah. He walked ahead along the hallway. She knew she had to look in the room. She knew she had to turn the key, slide back the bolt and look inside. It would be so easy, she thought. She looked again as Mariah stopped and turned to see where she was. Sacha saw him shaking his head, his eyes wide and his words apparent in his face. She turned the lock, slid the bolt back with her long fingers and pushed against the door.
For a brief moment the music stopped, and then it started again. Sacha stared into the darkened room. The light from the lamp in the hallway cast a shadow across the cell. It was cold and without a window on the world.
‘Who’s there?’ she asked softly as the cello continued to play.
Sacha was aware of Mariah standing nearby.
‘We can’t do this,’ he said softly, the words warm against her face. ‘We have to go, alone …’
Mariah pushed the door wider. There, in the shadows of the room with his face to the wall, was a man. He was sat with his back to the door, the neck of the cello pressed against his left shoulder. At his feet was a walking cane and a rolled cape. There was no fire, no light, nothing but the cello and the chair. The man ignored their presence. He played on frantically. The music grew faster and faster. Sacha wondered how his fingers could touch the strings. It was as if a hundred hands picked out the tune.
‘Beautiful,’ she said forgetting where they were.
The music stopped suddenly as the man dropped the bow to the floor. It was as if her words had brought it to an end. In the darkness, they saw him turn to them and smile. Then, as the light was cast upon his mask, Sacha screamed. She had seen the man before. He had gripped her tightly and squeezed out her breath as if to kill her.
‘Packavi – the slayer,’ Mariah said in disbelief.
[ 15 ]
Haar Mist
> PACKAVI jumped towards the door and grabbed Sacha by the cuff of her jacket. Mariah panicked and fired the gun. Two loud explosions rattled in the room and in surprise the masked man let go.
Sacha pushed Mariah from the room ahead of her and had the presence of mind to kick the door shut behind them. Mariah turned the lock and slammed the bolt.
The house burst into life. Packavi banged and screamed upon the door, calling Mariah by name. From the rooms below came the sound of men shouting. Grendel’s voice carried upwards, shrill and cold. He screamed loudly for Grimm as he woke from his sleep. Footsteps then pounded on the three flights of stairs. Grendel ran ahead, blaring for Grimm as he wondered who had been shot.
Sacha and Mariah ran the length of the landing towards the light. The stench of fermenting cabbage grew even stronger. At the end of the corridor was a small window that looked out over the castle wall. Mariah could just see the lighthouse on the end of the pier. The mist surrounded it, with only the light showing above the fog. It gave bursts of bright light that shone over
the top of the clawing mist as if from the summit of a mountain looking down at the clouds.
Mariah opened the window, took out his handkerchief and threw it onto the wall below. It caught on the overgrowth of leafless bramble stems that grew from in between the old stones. Sacha wondered what he was doing. She could hear the footsteps beating their way up the stairs. She knew that at any moment Grendel and his men would appear and they would be captured. To her annoyance, Mariah calmly put his footprint on the window ledge and then pushed her through a small doorway that led under the eaves. Outside, the window flapped back and forth as they hid in the dark. The footsteps got closer. Doors banged. Men shouted. Grendel prowled the corridor until he found Mr Grimm.
‘Who did this?’ they heard him scream. ‘Then he shall be caught,’ Grendel said, replying to the answer they could not hear.
Sacha and Mariah stayed silent, crouching under the roof and covering themselves in a discarded hessian sack.
The door of Packavi’s cell rattled on its hinges with his manic beating. As he went by, Grendel checked the lock and pushed the bolt deeper within its keeper.
‘It’s not your time,’ Grimm said apologetically as he walked behind, rubbing the rope marks on his wrist. ‘We are to keep you here until he says you can go out again. Don’t worry, Mr Packavi – it will be soon.’ Grimm’s voice trembled.
‘Now is the time,’ Packavi shouted through the crack that ran the length of the door. ‘The boy is here and I have seen him – let me out to finish what I have to do.’
‘Silence!’ Grendel screamed as he stamped his feet against the dusty floorboards that ran the length of the attic corridor. ‘If we find the boy we will give him to you – now be silent.’
Packavi stopped banging upon the door of his cell. The music started again as swiftly as before.
‘He will have to be let loose – regardless of what the Templar may think,’ Grendel chuntered as he walked along the passageway.
‘But look at what happened,’ Grimm replied. ‘Too many, far too many … And now the boy has a gun. What shall we do?’
‘Do?’ Grendel asked as he took a magnifying glass from his coat pocket and examined the marks on the open window. ‘Do? We shall do what we always do, Mr Grimm – we shall investigate and when he is found he will be punished.’
‘And the girl?’ Grimm asked with a hint of hesitation.
‘And the girl – if that is what the Templar requires then that is what he shall have.’
‘But I’m not sure if it would be a good thing,’ Grimm said as he pondered what was ahead.
‘Money, Mr Grimm, money – nothing more, nothing less, and this shall be our last employment. Think of it, Mr Grimm – we could leave this place and live in San Francisco – imagine that – we could be whoever we wanted to be … True to ourselves and amongst our rightful companions in life …’
‘It’s when I look at my hands, Grendel – even though they tremble I see them covered in blood, and it’s not my own, but the others’.’
‘Poppycock, Mr Grimm. It’s your imagination. Let us find the clockwork monkey Mundi and his companion and despatch them with great haste. There is a ship that leaves Liverpool in five days – we could be upon it and gone for ever.’
‘We could just let them go.’
‘No!’ screamed Grendel as if his companion had said too much. ‘Look. The window. Footprints. There,’ he said, pointing below to the luminous handkerchief blowing in the breeze. ‘That is where they have gone. Quickly!’
Grendel pushed Grimm back along the landing. He didn’t notice the small doorway cut into the wooden panel. Inside,
Mariah and Sacha sat in the darkness. They didn’t speak. Mariah held Sacha’s hand and felt the soft skin of her fingers.
They listened as the footsteps ran along the landing and then down the stairs. A door opened to the yard outside the guard house and voices carried through the window. Men shouted in pursuit and the barking of a large dog filled the cold night air. From the small cell along the corridor the sound of the cello carried on.
They waited until they could hear nothing but the music.
‘They’re searching the grounds,’ Mariah said quietly as he heard the faraway call of the dog.
‘How will we get away?’ Sacha asked. ‘The castle wall is too high to jump from.’
Mariah crawled to the small doorway that opened onto the attic landing. He opened the door just a crack and peered outside. The lamp above him cast a long shadow to the stairway.
‘We’ll take our chances, Sacha. If I get caught, you can’t go to the police. Just get out of the town and don’t come back,’ Mariah said as he helped Sacha from under the eaves.
Silently they passed Packavi’s cell door. The music played on. Turning the stairs they crept to the floor below. It was one large room with beds on either side and in the middle was a large stove with a blackened kettle that steamed away. At the far end was an open door.
They quickly crossed the wooden floor. The door led down two flights of steps into a mess hall below. On the stove in the corner was the pan of lamb stew and fermenting cabbage. A long table ran the length of the room that was lit by two oil lamps. The tiles were spread with straw and, hiding in the corner, a solitary rat watched as they crept through the room.
‘How will we get out? Grendel and his men will be waiting – and they have dogs,’ Sacha said as Mariah searched the room. ‘What are you looking for?’ she asked.
‘A key – ammunition – anything,’ he replied as he emptied a jar of stale biscuits on the table.
It was then that Sacha saw two small folding doors inlaid into the floor by the stone fireplace. On one was a metal clasp the size of a fist, and above it was a rope fitted with a pulley block. A thick iron hook dangled from the rope just above their heads.
‘There’s the cellar,’ she said as the barking of the dogs drew closer. ‘I heard my father talk about it – rumours of a way out, a tunnel from the castle to the town.’
‘There must be another way,’ Mariah snapped without thinking as he looked for a way of escape from the guard house. ‘The windows,’ he said, pointing to the narrow cuts in the stone walls that were barred with iron rods.
‘They’re coming,’ Sacha said as the sound of Grendel and the search dogs came closer. ‘We can’t stay.’
The door opened. The night rushed in. Grimm, Grendel and two soldiers with dogs walked slowly into the mess hall. Without them even noticing, the shutter on the cellar lowered into place, not quite closing. Sacha peered up into the room through a tiny gap. Grimm slumped into a chair by the fire, out of breath and complaining about the cold. The dogs circled and turned, then lay down at his feet.
‘They would never have got over the wall,’ Grendel said as the two soldiers took off their coats and went upstairs. ‘They must still be in the castle.’
‘I care not for all this, Grendel. They are better gone, better
gone, I tell you. Too much trouble and for no return. A madman in the attic and a girl on the run – am I bothered?’ Grimm moaned and spat out the words angrily as he took off his shoes and rubbed his feet.
‘Her father will do what we say – if he doesn’t then he’ll be swimming to the bottom of the ocean,’ Grendel replied as he took a swig from a small bottle of green linctus.
From her hiding place, Sacha watched his every move.
‘I don’t enjoy this any more, Mr Grendel. If we knew why then it wouldn’t be so bad. But we are kept in the dark, Mr Grendel, in the dark. Do this, says Walpole – do that, says Walpole – and we do it without question. I preferred it when we were solely matrimonial detectives – matters of the heart, that’s where we should have stayed. Intrigue has its disadvantages.’
‘It pays well – tickets to San Francisco, Mr Grimm, a new life.’
‘Then let’s leave tonight – forget all this and go now.’
‘I’m staying, staying until we have done the job. I want to see the end of Mariah Mundi and Jack Charity. I want that satisfaction. If Walpole is right then Charity will be tried for murder and the boy as his accomplice and whatever Templar wants from suite 217 will be found.’
‘What could be so special that he would be prepared to see the downfall of the Prince Regent so he could have it?’ Grimm asked as he toasted his toes against the flames and watched the steam rise from his socks.
‘Something so wonderful that he would be prepared to take the building apart brick by brick – that’s what he said to Walpole, brick by brick,’ Grendel said excitedly as he paced the room.
‘And what of Packavi?’ Grimm asked.
‘A distraction, a smokescreen, and an assassin, Mr Grimm. The Templar knows best and we should not contradict him in any –’
There was a sudden thud as the cellar door dropped into place. A dog by the fire growled as a spiral of dust billowed in the air.
‘The cellar!’ they said together in the sudden realisation that they were being overheard.
