The Dead Virgins (The India Sommers Mysteries Book 1)

by K. M. Ashman

  A massive blow to the side of the head sent him flying once again, before he was dragged back into the chair.

  ‘When Mr Smith asks you a question,’ said the thug, ‘he expects an answer.’

  ‘Okay, okay’ screamed Murray, ‘I get it, just stop bloody hitting me.’

  ‘Right,’ said the man referred to as Mr Smith, ‘let’s get started. First of all, what is your name?’

  ‘Murray,’ he said, wiping his bloody mouth on his sleeve, ‘Stephen Murray.’

  ‘And, where are you from, Mr Murray?’

  ‘London.’

  ‘And your job?’

  ‘Taxi driver.’

  Mr Smith paused, writing notes on the pad in front of him.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘tell me, Mr Murray, why are you here?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Easy question.’

  ‘I genuinely don’t know. I’ve done nothing wrong. I was sitting in my cab when one of your thugs pressed a gun against my head. What’s all this about?’

  Murray flinched as the thug behind him leant forward and spoke menacingly into his ear.

  ‘Mr Smith asks the questions, you provide the answers.’

  Mr Smith stopped writing and sat back in his chair.

  ‘I know the circumstances of your capture, Mr Murray, what I need to know is why you were there in the first place?’

  ‘I was dropping off a customer.’

  ‘In the middle of nowhere?’

  Murray thought furiously. No matter what trouble he was in, he saw no mileage in dropping the army guy in the shit.

  ‘He was a writer,’ said Murray, ‘he was interested in the history of the area and particularly wanted to learn about some nunnery that used to be around here.’

  ‘My sources tell me you seemed to be quite friendly with the man. In fact, you got quite aggressive with one of the gate guards.’

  ‘He was a prick,’ said Murray, ‘no need for rudeness.’

  ‘Hmm, quite,’ said the man, ‘tell me, Mr Murray, where is your patch as a taxi driver?’

  ‘West London.’

  ‘Do you often get fares all the way out here?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘And you didn’t think it strange when you picked up this one?’

  ‘When someone waves a grand in your face, you don’t ask too many questions.’

  ‘So you don’t know him personally?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Before this morning I had never set eyes on him.’

  ‘Yet, you spend most of the day with him and then drove off to god knows where and brought him back a rucksack.’

  ‘I didn’t know what was in the bag.’

  ‘Weren’t you curious?’

  ‘Like I said, a grand is a lot of money to me.’

  ‘What was in the rucksack?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘When he left you, did he say where he was going?’

  ‘To search for the nunnery, I believe.’ Murray looked nervously over his shoulder. ‘Can I say something please?’

  Mr Smith nodded.

  ‘Look, I don’t know what this is about but you have got this all wrong. I only met him this morning and I have ferried him around all day. Yes, it is strange, I admit but for a grand, I would have driven him to land’s end and back. We didn’t talk much, in fact, he was quite ignorant. We went to two churches but I waited outside while he went in. He didn’t tell me anything. All I know is he ended up very interested in finding this nunnery.’

  The man calling himself Mr Smith stared at him for a long time.

  ‘You know what?’ he said eventually, ‘I think I believe you.

  ‘Thank god for that,’ said Murray, placing his head in his hands.

  Mr Smith stood up to leave.

  ‘So, can I go now?’ asked Murray sitting up straight again.

  Mr Smith paused, before speaking over his shoulder.

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ he said, ‘there are too many loose ends here, you being one of them. We will speak again soon.’ He left the room, closely followed by the two guards.

  ‘Shit,’ cursed Murray when the door was locked and he laid his head in his arms on the table.

  ----

  Outside the cell, Mr Smith turned to one of the guards.

  ‘Any news on the other guy?’ he asked.

  ‘Not yet,’ came the answer, ‘we lost him in the woods but it won’t be long before we find him, we have every man on the case.’

  ‘Good, let me know as soon as there is any news.’

  ‘What about him?’ asked Baldy nodding toward the locked door.

  ‘I don’t think he’s involved,’ said Mr Smith, ‘still, he’s probably seen too much already. We wouldn’t want Mr Murray running to the police, would we?’

  ‘You want him to disappear?’

  ‘That would be good,’ said Mr Smith, ‘but don’t make it messy. When this is all over, I want the order to be squeaky clean. There’s a lake a couple of miles away. As I recall, there is quite a steep drop to the water. If a passing car or taxi was to have a blowout, it could well find itself at the bottom of the lake, complete with driver, if you get my drift.’

  ‘Leave it to me,’ said the thug, ‘I’ll make the arrangements.’

  ‘You do that,’ said Mr Smith, ‘but not yet. First, let’s find this other guy before he causes any more damage. There’s too much at risk here.’

  In another cell, a few yards away, someone had their ear pressed up against the door, just about making out the conversation through the ancient oak. The two men walked toward the end of the subterranean corridor and slammed the door behind them.

  Long after the corridor had fallen silent, Murray sat at the table, his head still resting on his arms when he heard a muffled woman’s voice.

  ‘Hello?’ it called out quietly, ‘can you hear me?’

  Murray looked up, momentarily confused.

  ‘Hello,’ said the muffled voice again.

  Murray stood up and went to the door.

  ‘Hello,’ he said, ‘who’s there?’

  ‘Thank god,’ said the woman’s voice, ‘I thought you was dead. Listen, I don’t know who you are but you are in terrible danger.’

  Murray’s hand crept unconsciously to his bloody face.

  ‘Really?’ he said, ‘I’d never have guessed.’

  ‘Seriously,’ said the voice, ‘those two men who just left, they mean you terrible harm. I overheard them talking and I think they are going to kill you.’

  Murray’s eyes closed, realising the worst.

  ‘What’s your name, asked the woman?’

  ‘Murray,’ he said.

  ‘Well, Mr Murray,’ she said, ‘we have to get out of here.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘I am a prisoner as well,’ she said, ‘about three cells up, I think.’

  ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘No but I don’t fancy my chances much. We can’t just sit back and wait to be killed. Is there any way you can force the door?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he said rubbing his hands over the door, ‘it’s too solid.’ As his hand passed the lock receiver, he winced as a splinter lodged under a fingernail. He pulled out the splinter and examined the frame carefully. It seemed a lot older than the door and was certainly much damper. He looked around the room, searching for something to use as a tool. Finally his eyes settled on the table the thug and his friend had left behind.

  ‘Wait,’ he said, ‘I have an idea.’ He turned the table over and grabbed one of the wrought iron legs pulling it outwards away from the frame. Eventually the friction built up and the hot metal severed, leaving him holding the cast iron leg of the table.

  ‘Got it,’ he said and returned to the door. ‘Right,’ he said to himself, ‘let’s see what we can do here.’ Grasping the leg with both hands, he drove the jagged edge into the door frame. At first it resisted but after a few blows, the old timber started to s
plinter and he attacked the frame with renewed vigour. Twenty minutes later, he exposed the bar of the lock and placed the table leg behind it to lever it toward him. The door sprung inwards and he ran from the room in relief.

  He looked along the corridor, getting his bearings. The cell he had escaped from was at the end of a short corridor, lit by a single bulb. Either side of the corridor were four rooms, each of which was open apart from the last one. At the end of the corridor, a stairway led up into darkness.

  ‘Did you do it?’ came the voice from the locked cell, ‘are you out?’

  ‘I am,’ said Murray, trying the handle, ‘this frame looks rotten as well, step aside.’ He kicked at the door alongside the handle several times.

  ‘That’s it,’ said the woman’s voice, ‘it’s going.’ He stepped back and ran toward the door, shoulder barging it as hard as he could. The door flew inward and he fell sprawling to the floor.

  ‘Oh my god,’ said the woman bending over him, staring into his blood covered face, ‘are you alright?’

  ‘I’ve been better,’ he said, through the pain, ‘what is this place?’

  ‘I think we’re in some old store rooms under the convent,’ she said, ‘by the smell of it, they haven’t been used for ages, perhaps hundreds of years.’

  ‘We’re under the convent?’

  ‘I think so, why? Do you know anything about it?’

  ‘Not really but a passenger of mine was very keen to come up here.’

  ‘Passenger?’

  ‘Yes, I am a taxi driver and brought a man called Brandon down from London this morning to look for a missing lady.’ As he spoke, he looked at her face and sat upright before asking her the obvious question.

  ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

  ‘India Sommers,’ she said and held out her hand to shake his. ‘Pleased to meet you Mr Murray, now, if you don’t mind, can we get the hell out of here?’

  ----

  Murray and India made their way up to the ground floor and found themselves in an outbuilding of the convent. Murray peered through the window, checking for guards.

  ‘All clear,’ he said and they made their way out into the snowstorm.

  ‘Where are we going?’ asked India.

  ‘Anywhere away from here,’ said Murray.

  ‘But you said Brandon was in there somewhere.’

  ‘He is but there’s nothing we can do to help him, there are too many nutters around here. He did give me a number to call but they took my phone. The best thing that we can do is get to a village and call the police.’

  ‘In this weather? We wouldn’t get halfway.’

  ‘I know, that’s why we are taking that.’ He indicated the snow-covered car alongside the gate on the other side of a small cemetery.

  ‘We don’t have any keys.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that,’ said Murray, ‘I’ve hotwired enough cars in my time to start that little beauty.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Murray, ‘I’m sure, after all, it is my taxi.’

  ----

  They checked the area was clear before running across the graves. The flakes were falling thick and fast now and everything had a covering of snow.

  ‘Out of the way,’ said Murray when they reached the car. ‘Sorry babe,’ he muttered and smashed the side window with the table leg he was still carrying.

  ‘Oh my god,’ said India suddenly.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ asked Murray.

  ‘Look over there.’

  Lying in the snow was the shape of a body, rapidly being covered by the falling snow. The dark patch by the head indicated a massive pool of blood, the cause of the man’s demise.

  ‘Who is it?’ asked India.

  ‘How the hell do I know?’ asked Murray incredulously, ‘come on, we have to go.’

  ‘Wait, he may still be alive, we can’t just leave him.’

  ‘India, come on, there’s no time.’

  ‘I am not leaving without checking,’ she said, ‘a minute is all I need.’

  She ran over and lifted the man’s head gently, her hand sinking into a soft mush behind his skull. He had been shot in the head and was obviously dead. Murray ran over and joined her.

  ‘Satisfied now?’ he asked.

  ‘Who do you think it is?’ she asked.

  ‘Looks like one of them goons, to me,’ said Murray. He looked around the area, checking for guards. ‘Shit,’ he said, ‘there’s another one.’ Sure enough, another body lay a few yards further along. ‘No wonder there aren’t any guards,’ said Murray, ‘someone’s killing them all.’

  ‘Who, Brandon?’

  ‘Must be,’ said Murray, ‘unless there’s a third party involved here.’

  Suddenly, India jumped as she heard a loud thud and Murray staggered backwards. He looked down at his chest in confusion as blood started to ooze from a bullet hole. He looked up at India, with shock in his eyes before keeling over backwards into the snow. India spun around in terror, only to come face to face with the barrel of a silenced pistol aiming directly at her forehead.

  ‘Hello, Miss Sommers,’ said the distinctive voice, ‘we meet again.’

  ----

  ‘Gatilusi,’ gasped India, in shock.

  ‘The very same.’

  India stared at the gun, holding her breath as she waited for the flash that would end her life.

  ‘Are you going to kill me?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said and stepped forward, placing the cold barrel against the skin on her forehead.

  India closed her eyes and waited to die.

  ‘No,’ he said eventually, ‘I may have need of you.’

  She exhaled slowly and opened her eyes.

  ‘Don’t try anything stupid, Miss Sommers, I do not want to hurt you but if you cause me any problems, I will shoot. Do you understand?’

  India nodded silently.

  Gatilusi lowered the gun and stared at her.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, nervously.

  ‘Looking to return something to its rightful home.’

  ‘The Palladium?’

  ‘It belongs in my country, Miss Sommers and I will stop at nothing to retrieve it.’

  ‘All these dead people …’started India

  ‘Will not be missed,’ interrupted Gatilusi, ‘they are agents employed by the order and officially are not in the country. My people will ensure their bodies are not found.’

  ‘But what about him?’ asked India, looking at the body of the taxi driver, ‘he wasn’t part of this mess.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Gatilusi, ‘he was coming at you with an iron bar.’

  ‘He helped me escape,’ said India.

  Gatilusi looked down at the body of the taxi driver.

  ‘He wasn’t one of them?’

  ‘No, he was as much a victim as me.’

  ‘Then I am truly sorry,’ said Gatilusi, ‘but I suspect the order had arranged for his disappearance anyway. One more missing person won’t unduly worry the police.’

  ‘We have to help him,’ said India.

  ‘Too late,’ said Gatilusi, ‘he’s already dead.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said India, ‘why are you killing people and how come you’re over here?’

  ‘My people followed you and your friend from Samothrace,’ he said, ‘it wasn’t difficult. All we had to do was be patient and you led us straight here.’

  ‘But I was kidnapped.’

  ‘Yes, we lost you for a while but luckily, your friend is very diligent and he led us here.’

  ‘Brandon is definitely here?’

  ‘He is and that’s why I need you. You are my insurance policy. Now, turn around and make your way into the convent and no funny stuff.’

  A terrified India led the way toward the building, closely followed by the Greek policeman holding his gun against her back. She stopped at the door and glanced back over her shoulder.

  �
�You won’t get away with this,’ she said nervously, ‘we know all about you and your secret society.’

  ‘Do you really and what exactly is it that you think you know?’

  ‘We know you are into kidnapping, murder and theft,’ said India, ‘isn’t that enough to start with?’

  ‘Speculation,’ he said, ‘the authorities have nothing.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said, grasping at straws, ‘we know your organisation is called Mortuus Virgo.’

  A smile played around his mouth.

  ‘Oh, this is good,’ he laughed, ‘you think I represent Mortuus Virgo?’

  ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘Oh no, Miss Sommers, I don’t and that simple statement reveals how little you really do know. You think I am a dangerous man and in many ways, I suppose I am but I am not on the same scale as Mortuus Virgo.’

  ‘Why, who are they?’

  ‘I think you are about to find out, Miss Sommers,’ he said, ‘now move.’ He nudged her in the back with his gun and she stepped into the silent entrance hall of the convent.

  ----

  Chapter 33

  England 2010

  ‘Please, don’t be frightened,’ hissed Brandon, ‘I mean you no harm.’

  Sister Bernice froze, her eyes bulging in fear as the hand clamped tightly around her mouth.

  ‘Okay,’ said Brandon, ‘I’m going to take my hand away. If you promise not to scream, I will explain everything but if you call out, I will have to tie you up and gag you. Like I said, I mean you no harm. Do you understand?’

  Bernice nodded and Brandon slowly removed his hand from her mouth. She turned around slowly and gasped when she looked into his blackened face.

  ‘Don’t be frightened,’ said Brandon again, ‘please sit down and I will try to explain.’

  Bernice walked sideways and sat on the bed, never taking her eyes from Brandon.

  ‘Good,’ he said, pulling up the single stool and placing it before her.

  ‘Okay,’ he said again, sitting down, ‘my name is Brandon and I work for the government. I am seeking a missing woman and I have reason to believe she is somewhere in this building.’

  ‘How did you get in here?’ whispered Bernice, ‘the door was locked.’

  ‘I came in through there,’ he said, indicating the arched window high on the wall. ‘Sorry, I had to break a small pane of glass but I will get it replaced, I promise. I couldn’t use the normal ways in, there are far too many security guards.’