The Haunting of Bleeding Heart Yard (Quigg)

by Tim Ellis

  Uptown Girl: Thanks all. I’ll let you know what happens.

  Wriggler: Do you want me to meet you there?

  Uptown Girl: Thanks for the offer, but it’s too dangerous.

  Wriggler: Danger is my middle name.

  Hurricane Joe: Mine too.

  Jazz: (Grins) Mine’s yellowbelly.

  Uptown Girl: Gotta go! Missing you already. Signing off.

  There was no way she could just sit around thinking about sex and waiting for the world to end. She had to do something. She had to find out what had happened to Gatekeeper.

  After getting dressed, she unlocked the trapdoor, climbed down the steps into the underground tunnel, stuck her hand in the hidey-hole and retrieved the Walther PPK, silencer, and five bullets that were left. She slipped the bullets into the chamber, leaving the one next to the firing-pin empty and made sure the safety catch was on. The silencer she slid into the back pocket of her jeans. The gun – she pushed into the front of her waistband – and it felt strangely erotic. Maybe it had been a mistake not to let Quigg show her what he was made of.

  When she went to help herself to the key for Quigg’s Mercedes, she found a key to a Jaguar on the table as well. She glanced through the window and saw a sports car where the Mercedes was usually parked. ‘Fucking brilliant,’ she said as she took the key, unlocked the front door and let herself out.

  Where the fuck was East Barnet?

  She keyed the postcode into the satnav and selected the address.

  Calculating . . .

  It was going to take her thirty-three minutes to get to Gatekeeper’s house.

  At least then she’d know what the fuck was going on.

  ***

  ‘I think I fainted before I was shot . . .’

  They had to climb another set of steps onto the sixth floor and continue further along the inside walls of the main building before they eventually found steps that led down to the fifth floor and forced them back towards the South West Block and Emilia’s office. The Einsatzgruppen were still following them like a herd of elephants in search of the graveyard.

  ‘You were shot?’

  ‘Oh yes, but because I fell before the soldier pulled the trigger the bullet only creased my head. I must have tumbled down into the pit and fallen on top of the other bodies. Much later, I woke up nearly suffocating. Many more prisoners had been shot and were lying on top of me. The Ukrainian police had then filled in the grave. It took me a long time, but eventually I was able to climb through the earth and the dead bodies. I remember reaching the surface and pushing my head out into the freezing cold. After I’d finished gulping in air, I was surprised there was any air left in the world.’

  ‘You were buried alive?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Fucking hell.’

  ‘It could have been worse – I could have been buried dead.’

  ‘That’s very true.’

  ‘When I was sitting on top of that mass grave it was dark. I was naked – although I was now a seventeen year-old woman, my growth had been retarded due to the poor diet, forced labour and living conditions. I had no breasts, my periods had stopped and I resembled a skeleton . . .’

  ‘But since then . . . I mean, you got married and had children right?’

  They reached more steps, descended onto the fourth floor and were forced back through the main building. They seemed to be zigzagging down the floors – first one way, and then the other.

  ‘It was never to be. I was raped so many times by the soldiers that I was damaged inside. They didn’t care that I was a newly ripe cherry on the tree of life. As far as they were concerned I was simply a walking corpse, but let us not dwell on that. It is what it is – no more, and no less. We cannot change the past – only the future.’

  ‘What did you do then?’

  ‘I had reached the surface, but I was not out of danger yet. I could just make out the nearest side of the pit and crawled over to it. I stood up and started making little foot-holds in the frozen dirt with my left hand . . .’

  ‘What was wrong with your right hand?’

  ‘While I was lying in the grave, the soldiers jumped into the pit to finish off those who were still alive and to help themselves to any valuables they could find. One of them stood on my hand and broke some bones.’

  ‘And you didn’t cry out?’

  ‘I couldn’t. If I had, I would not be here talking to you now and running for my life again.’

  ‘Yeah, there is that.’

  ‘I pulled myself up the side an inch at a time. It was so hard, and with each step I could have fallen back into the pit. At last, I reached the top and got hold of a little bush. With my final ounce of strength, I pulled myself up and scrambled over the top, but I nearly let go and fell back down . . .’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Somebody spoke . . .’

  ‘Oh my God!’

  ‘I nearly died of fright.’

  ‘I think I would have.’

  ‘It was a boy in a vest and pants. He said, “Don’t be scared, lady! I’m alive too.” . . .’

  ‘Nooo!’

  ‘Yes. He had crawled out of the grave as I had done. He was so small and thin, and was trembling and shivering in the bitter cold. I said, “Keep quiet. Crawl along behind me,” and slowly, we began making our way through the night to freedom.’

  ‘You obviously escaped?’

  ‘I did, but little Monjah didn’t.’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘There were Germans all around. He called out, “Don’t move, lady, there’s Germans here.” They heard him and shot him where he lay.’

  ‘And they didn’t see you?’

  ‘No.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Wednesday, August 7

  Lucy arrived at 73 Woodfield Drive in East Barnet at quarter past one in the morning and parked the Jaguar CX-16 beneath the orange glow of a streetlight on the opposite site of the road diagonally to the semi-detached house where Gatekeeper supposedly lived. She had no idea what Quigg was doing with a fucking hula-hula girl dangling from his mirror by a piece of string, but she unhooked it and slung it out of the window before she’d even left Shepherd’s Bush.

  There were two yobbos hanging about outside the house. As she walked across the road they barred her way.

  ‘I’ve got a fucking gun,’ she said.

  ‘You ain’t got a gun,’ the taller and younger-looking of the pair said with a sneer.

  She pulled the Walther out of her waistband. ‘How would you like me to shove it up your arse so you can get a closer look at the engraving on the side?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s Uptown Girl,’ the smaller man said to the taller one.

  ‘Who the fuck are you?’

  ‘I’m Wriggler – Sean Dunne at your service,’ The smaller one said, and grinned. ‘I live just down the road.’

  The taller one was dressed in leathers. ‘Hurricane Joe – Joe Finelli from Potters Bar. I’m half-Italian if you’re interested in a red-hot lover. I thought I’d come and offer my support.’ He pointed at a 125cc motorbike that had been modified to look like an easy-rider chopper. ‘That’s my bike if we need a quick getaway.’

  ‘Your ears will start bleeding if you get on the back of that thing with him,’ Dunne said. ‘Loud? I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t hear him coming in fucking China.’

  Hurricane’s lip curled up. ‘That’s the idea. Annoy everybody – especially the neighbours.’

  ‘Thanks for coming guys, but you could be in the wrong place at the wrong time. If I’m not mistaken, Gatekeeper is sitting in front of his computer with his fucking head lying on the floor by his feet, and I’m not sure if the bastard that did it is still here waiting for me.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ Joe Finelli said.

  ‘No, I’m serious. You know he was a whiz at cryptography?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Sean and Joe said in unison.

  ‘Well, I sent him something I’d discovered on Twitter. The next thin
g I know, my system has been fucking hijacked and he’s making a cameo appearance on the screen.’

  ‘As a headless corpse?’ Joe said.

  ‘The very same.’

  ‘That’s why you brought the gun, isn’t it?’

  ‘Fucking right. With my natural beauty, you’ll understand if I don’t want to be separated from my head.’

  They looked at each other and grinned.

  Sean said, ‘We’ll let you go first then.’

  ‘Very kind.’

  She screwed the silencer on the muzzle, and felt relieved that she wasn’t going in alone. Quigg should have been with her, but if she’d told him what she was doing he would have prevented her from coming. She was hoping he might even be right, hoping that Gatekeeper was still pissing himself laughing at her expense – the bastard. If he was, she’d do some serious surgery on his testicles, but she didn’t think so.

  The house was dark and silent. She pressed the bell announcing her arrival, but then realised that the front door was ajar.

  Sean and Joe nodded for her to go in.

  Slowly, she eased the door open and stepped into the hallway.

  She couldn’t hear anything – inside or outside. In fact, it was so quiet she wondered if she’d gone deaf.

  Her heart was auditioning for a part as the sound effects of a galloping horse in a cowboy movie, and it would have got the part as well.

  ‘Any torches?’ she whispered.

  Sean and Joe looked at each other and shook their heads.

  ‘I brought the gun, the least you could have done was brought a fucking torch with you.’

  As they entered the living room, Joe reached up and switched the light on.

  ‘Great,’ she said. ‘Now the whole world knows we’re . . .’

  Sean darted back outside and puked in the bushes by the front door.

  ‘Jesus!’ Joe said.

  Lucy stared at the bodies of an overweight woman in her late twenties, and a skinny boy of about nine years old. The woman was sprawled on a threadbare red sofa. The boy was lying face down on the floor. Both had been hacked nearly in two diagonally from the left side of the neck to half-way down the right ribcage. Blood was splattered on the walls, the ceiling and the widescreen television hanging on the wall above the pretend brick-effect fireplace. ‘The killer could still be here,’ she said.

  ‘Let’s get out and call the cops,’ Joe suggested.

  She would have liked nothing better than to call the police. She’d wait outside and drink coffee laced with brandy for the shock. The police would arrive. A male detective would give her the once-over and lick his lips appreciatively wondering if he could get inside her knickers. He’d say, “What brought you here?”

  From that point on everything would start to unravel. “Is that a gun you have there, Miss?” “Who does the car belong to?” “Can I see your driving licence?” “What do you know about these murders?” “You have how much in the bank?” “You live where?” . . . The investigation would gradually shift from the murders to her, to Quigg, to the way they lived, to . . . It didn’t bear thinking about.

  ‘No, I can’t do that. You go if you want to.’

  After they’d checked the other room downstairs, they began creeping up the stairs one step at a time.

  Joe switched the lights on as they went.

  The boy’s bedroom was first. On the door there was a sign that read:

  Bradley’s Room

  Top Secret Experimental Facility

  Keep Out

  It was empty.

  The main bedroom was next – it was also empty.

  Finally, there was the spare bedroom.

  Lucy pushed the door open.

  Gatekeeper was still sitting tied to a chair in front of his computer, and his head was on the floor by his feet just as she’d seen and then imagined it.

  She had the strangest feeling that someone else was also in the room.

  Joe touched her arm.

  She nodded – acknowledging his warning – but in her mind’s eye was the scene from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade where Indy faces the first test: Only the penitent man shall pass – he does a forward roll underneath the mechanical blade.

  And that’s what she did.

  Had she stood there thinking about the sheer stupidity of it, she would never have done it.

  So she didn’t think, she just did it.

  She leapt into the darkness – into the unknown, felt the blade swish above her head, twisted as she reached the end of her roll and pulled the trigger.

  Joe switched the light on.

  The machete clattered to the floor.

  The man behind the door sank to his knees with a stupid expression on his face, and then fell forwards.

  ‘You work for the government, don’t you?’ Joe said.

  ‘I watch too much television,’ she replied.

  Sean came up the stairs. ‘I’ve called the cops.’

  ‘You’ve done what? Lucy said. ‘For fuck’s sake. Did you give them your name?’

  ‘I’m not completely stupid.’

  ‘That’s open to question.’ She didn’t have much time now. There was nothing she could do about Gatekeeper’s computer. She just had to hope that the police didn’t interrogate it and follow the bread crumbs back to her.

  The dead man had more muscles than Mister Universe and more tattoos than the illustrated man.

  Joe helped her to turn him while she searched his pockets. She found a wallet in the back left-hand pocket of his khaki trousers, and a ring on his marriage finger that she yanked off. The wallet contained three hundred Euros, two hundred pounds and what looked like a Waffen SS identity card for Hans Fröbel.

  She passed the Euros to Joe and the pounds to Sean. ‘For helping me.’

  ‘Hey thanks,’ they both said.

  The ID card looked genuine. It had the approval stamp of the SS Oberführer dated April 17, 2003, green and yellow dues stamps attached, the official stamp of Reichsführer-SS Heinrich Himmler, his facsimile signature, the actual signature of the SS Standartenführer, and Hans Fröbel’s signature. It also contained:

  A photograph of Hans Fröbel in SS uniform;

  His SS Ausweiss number: 224077;

  Details of his date and place of birth: November 11, 1984 in Königsberg.

  She slipped the wallet, ID card and ring in her pocket. What were the fucking SS doing in East Barnet? Quigg might know what it all meant.

  She would liked to have taken pictures of the tattoos, but if she didn’t leave now the cops would find her, and then the shit would hit the fan.

  ‘We have to go,’ she said. ‘Thanks for your help, guys.’

  Sean grinned. ‘Hey, no problem. You ever need my help again, just ask.’

  ‘See you on the forum,’ Joe said.

  ‘Yeah,’ but she knew she wouldn’t.

  Just as she clambered into the Jaguar a cop car with its blue lights flashing came round the corner. She ducked down and lay across the seats.. If she tried to leave now, she’d get stopped.

  Fuck!

  ***

  ‘What did you do after the boy had been killed?’ Kline asked.

  They were moving through the basement levels now, but Emilia was wheezing and panting like a camel in the desert, and Kline was worried that the old woman was going to collapse any minute.

  ‘I lay there for a long time. I cried silently, but there was nothing I could do for him. He should never have shouted out. I felt terrible, because he was trying to warn me that the German soldiers were near. I couldn’t stay there though, or I would have died myself. I was naked, cold and the snow had begun to fall . . .’

  ‘Are you all right? We could take a rest, if you want?’

  ‘If they catch up with us, there’ll be plenty of time for resting I’m sure. Keep going. I run five miles every morning . . .’

  ‘At your age?’

  ‘I am young for my age. Also, I haven’t had to suffer the stresses o
f a husband and children. In those respects, my body is unused and in perfect condition.’ She tried to laugh, but coughed instead. ‘You English have a good saying: I am as fit as a butcher’s dog.’

  ‘If you’re sure?’

  ‘We’re getting closer,’ echoed through the passageways. ‘And when we catch you, you’ll wish you had died in Babi Yar all those years ago, old hag.’

  ‘Ignore them. They are not getting any closer. We are nearly through the passageways. I am sure that once we are clear we will be able to lose them.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, they came here to kill you. Even if we escape, they will find another place and another time.’

  ‘I am ready to die.’

  ‘Yeah, well I’m not ready to let them fucking kill you. It seems like they’ve known about your activities for years, why have they come after you now?’

  ‘It is the number ‘

  ‘What’s so special about that? It’s the number of a concentration camp inmate, isn’t it?’

  ‘That is what it is meant to look like, but it is not. With the number I have all the pieces.’

  ‘All the pieces of what?’

  They reached another set of steps and climbed down, ran along a short passageway and burst out into an underground cavern, which appeared to have a dim natural light emanating from the rock all around. The whole place was eerie and they could hear the sound of dripping water. Hundreds of enormous elaborately engraved marble columns burst out of a huge lake of water and reached up to the arched vaulted roof in front of them. Beneath their feet was a small stone landing area at the edge of the water, and there were scrape marks as if a boat had been dragged up onto it sometime in the distant past, but there was no signs of a boat there now.

  ‘My God!’ Kline said. ‘Look at this place.’

  ‘We are in the cistern that I told you about.’ She cocked an ear back the way they’d come. ‘Now they are getting closer.’