The Dead Virgins (The India Sommers Mysteries Book 1)

by K. M. Ashman

  ‘Wait a minute,’ said Brandon, ‘he was the caretaker’s son, right?’

  ‘Yes, amongst other things.’

  ‘Exactly and one of those tasks was grave digging.’

  India stared at him.

  ‘Of course,’ she said, ‘there must be dozens of tombs in the cemetery that are suitable.’

  ‘Then what are we waiting for,’ asked Brandon, ‘let’s get going.’

  They jumped up and started up the stairs, closely followed by Mike and two of the soldiers.

  ----

  Outside the convent, the storm had abated, leaving a deep layer of snow over everything. In contrast to the anger of the storm, the cemetery was now an eerie and silent landscape, full of indistinguishable shapes that hinted at the sad secrets they protected. India and Brandon stopped in their tracks, staring at the scene before them.

  ‘Where do we start?’ asked Brandon.

  ‘Lying in the arms of the goddess,’ said India, ‘there has to be a clue there, somewhere.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said India, ‘look for anything that seems out of place.’

  The two of them, along with the three soldiers started sweeping the snow from the lids of the tombs, reading each in turn to find anything that may shed a clue to the occupant’s identity.

  Brandon focussed on any that had a statue of an angel or anything that could be interpreted as a goddess.

  ‘In loving memory of Sister Rachel,’ he read at the base of one.

  ‘Shout them out,’ shouted India, ‘let me hear every one. They may mean more to me than to you.’

  ‘Sister Leanne,’ shouted one of the soldiers.

  ‘Mother Superior, Elizabeth,’ shouted the other.

  Over and over again, the names of the long dead echoed across the cemetery as they systematically checked the tombs.

  ‘No name on this one,’ came a shout.

  ‘This one’s collapsed,’ shouted Brandon.

  ‘Come on,’ said India to herself, ‘you have to be here somewhere.’

  Between the five of them, they had cleared most of the tombs within the hour.

  Brandon sat on a flat- topped vault, blowing on his freezing fingers.

  ‘It’s no use,’ he said, ‘there’s nothing here, we are wasting our time.’

  ‘She has to be,’ said India, ‘it makes total sense.’

  ‘I don’t know, India,’ he said, ‘she’s probably dead. Perhaps we should call it a day.’

  India didn’t answer, just stared over his shoulder.

  ‘India,’ said Brandon again, ‘I said…’

  ‘That’s odd,’ she said.

  ‘What is?’

  ‘On the head stone, there’s no name, just a date.’

  ‘One thousand and five,’ read Brandon, ‘must be one of the oldest here.’

  ‘The headstone may be old,’ said India, ‘but the engraving is quite modern.’

  ‘Perhaps someone just refreshed the date,’ suggested Brandon.

  ‘But why just the date?’ mused India, ‘why would anyone do that?’

  ‘Who knows?’ asked Brandon.

  ‘Actually, it’s not one thousand and five,’ said India, ‘there are three zeroes. It’s ten thousand and five but that just doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ said Brandon, ‘look at the numbers, there is a space between the 1000 and the 5. They are two separate numbers.’

  Suddenly India’s eyes widened as realisation dawned.

  ‘Oh my god, Brandon,’ she said, ‘it’s not a date, it’s a label. The numbers represent Roman numerals.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The number 1000 was represented by the letter ‘M’ and the number 5 was a ‘V’

  She looked at Brandon with hope in her eyes.

  ‘Don’t you see, Brandon? MV are the first letters of Mortuus Virgo. Jacob must have carved them as a sick taunt to anyone passing. This is the one, Brandon, we’ve found her.’

  ----

  Brandon rapidly swept the rest of the snow off the tomb with his arm. Underneath the lid of the tomb was four inches of solid granite but in the centre, a smaller and more modern slab sat on its own, the mottled concrete finish looking completely out of place against the natural stone. Brandon pushed it to one side, revealing a circular hole underneath.

  ‘She must be down there,’ gasped India, ‘the poor thing.’ She leant over and shouted into the darkness, ‘Camille, are you there?’ She fell silent and waited for an answer. ‘Camille, sweetheart,’ she shouted again, ‘if you’re there, just make a noise. We are here to help.’

  When there was still no answer, she started to take off her coat.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked Brandon.

  ‘I’m going down there,’ said India.

  ‘No,’ said Brandon, ‘Mike sent for help. We can get this thing apart within the hour.’

  ‘She may not have an hour,’ said India, ‘I have to go down there now.’

  ‘Then let me go down,’ said Brandon.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said India, ‘have you seen your midriff recently?’

  ‘Point taken,’ said Brandon, looking at the diameter of the hole, ‘okay but hang on.’ He turned to Mike. ‘Have you got a torch?’ he asked.

  Mike opened one of his pouches on his utility vest and handed over a pencil torch.

  ‘Take this,’ said Brandon, ‘and if she is alive, let me know what you need and we’ll send it down. If she’s not, we’ll pull you out straight away, okay?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said nervously and hoisted herself up to sit on the tomb. She lifted her legs up and dangled them into the hole. Brandon took hold of her wrists and braced himself.

  ‘Good luck,’ he said and India slid herself over the edge. Brandon grimaced as she descended into the darkness and he leant forward until his shoulders were almost completely into the tomb.

  ‘Can you feel the floor?’ he shouted.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Hang on, I’ll pull you back up.’

  ‘No,’ shouted India, ‘let me go.’

  ‘I’m not letting you go,’ shouted Brandon, ‘you don’t know how far it is.’

  ‘Brandon,’ shouted India, ‘I know what I am doing, just let go.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Brandon,’ she shouted, ‘let me go.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ he said, ‘bend your knees and roll when you hit the floor. Here goes.’ He let go of her wrists and India fell into the darkness.

  ----

  India expected to hit a hard floor but to her surprise, she landed on a soft surface, twisting her ankle in the process. She sat up, coughing as she inhaled a mouthful of dust.

  ‘Are you okay?’ shouted Brandon from above.

  ‘I think so,’ she said and retrieved the torch from her pocket. The narrow beam of light was quite effective in the dark and she pointed it around the tiny space.

  The room was about ten foot square and was totally empty except for a small alcove cut into the wall. Within the alcove, a glazed pottery urn reflected the torch light back at her. The soft surface she landed on was an old mattress that must have been rolled up and forced through the hole above. Empty crisp wrappers and water bottles littered the floor, evidence of recent life but there was no sign of the girl. India double checked the room for hidden doors, finding none. She stood in the centre of the room, turning slowly, totally confused. It didn’t make sense, she had to be here somewhere.

  Her gaze returned to the urn. It was quite small for the alcove and sat slightly off centre. She walked slowly over and stopped, facing the alcove. The urn was beautifully decorated with multi-coloured glazes and the lid was sealed with a thick layer of red wax.

  India caught her breath as a slight movement caught her eye in the tiny space behind the urn. She shone her torch into the alcove and slowly released her breath in relief.

  ‘Hello, sweetheart,’ she said gently, ‘you must be Camille.’

>   ----

  A tear stained face peered back at her in terror. A little girl was squashed into the tiny space, her knees drawn up to her chin in order to fit. She nodded slowly.

  ‘I thought so,’ she said, ‘my name is India.’

  ‘Like the country?’

  ‘Yes,’ said India, ‘like the country.’

  ‘That’s a pretty name.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said India, ‘I like yours too.’

  ‘Have you come to take me home?’

  ‘I have,’ said India, ‘but first we have to get you out of this little hole, is that okay?’

  The little girl nodded and wiped her runny nose.

  ‘Good, then let’s move this out of the way, shall we?’ She picked up the urn by the handles but before she could place it on the floor, her foot slipped on an empty water bottle and she fell headlong into the darkness, emptying the urn’s contents across the tomb floor as it smashed into dozens of pieces.

  India coughed violently as she inhaled micro particles of ash, the remains of somebody long dead. She got to her feet and spat out some more ash.

  ‘Are you okay?’ asked the tiny voice.

  ‘I’m fine, sweetheart,’ she said, ‘just a silly slip.’ She turned back and helped Camille from the alcove.

  ‘Wow, it’s a bit tight in there,’ she said, ‘it must have been awfully uncomfortable.’

  ‘It was my hiding place,’ said Camille, ‘I thought you were the horrible man, coming back to get me.’

  ‘What man?’

  ‘The one who did all the nasty things to me.’

  ‘Oh, sweetheart,’ said India, ‘come here.’ She opened her arms and cuddled her tightly. ‘You’re safe now. That man will never hurt you again.’

  India was surprised at the strength of the girl’s embrace and eventually had to prise her arms from around her neck.

  ‘Okay,’ she said, ‘time to get you out of here. I am going to lift you up in the air and a nice policeman is going to pull you out of the hole, is that okay?’

  ‘Will you come up as well?’

  ‘Of course, I will,’ said India, ‘but there is only room for one at a time.’

  ‘Is the policeman nice?’ asked Camille.

  ‘Really, really nice.’

  ‘Will he have chocolate?’

  India laughed gently and brushed the girl’s dirty fringe from her eyes.

  ‘Well, if he doesn’t, I’m sure someone will get you some quickly. How about that?’

  ‘Okay,’ said Camille.

  Two minutes later, India watched the girl’s legs disappear out of the hole as she was pulled from the tomb. Brandon’s face reappeared, framed by the now clear night sky.

  ‘Won’t be long India,’ he called, ‘just going to get some rope to pull you up.’

  ‘No problem,’ said India and took the opportunity to look around the tomb once more. The beam from her torch fell on the broken urn and she walked over to examine it more closely. She picked up a piece of the pottery and examined the exquisite decoration.

  As her hands disturbed the ashes, something beneath caught her eye and she brushed the ashes away gently to see what it was. The item was dirty with age but before she could make any assumptions, Brandon called out from above.

  ‘Come on, India, we’re ready.’

  India placed the item in her pocket and rushed over to the rope dangling from the hole above. She put her foot in the loop at the end and gripped tightly with both hands.

  ‘Okay,’ she shouted, ‘start pulling.’

  ----

  ‘Where is she?’ asked India, when she was finally pulled free.

  ‘In safe hands,’ said Brandon. ‘One of the nuns is looking after her and there is an ambulance already on its way.’

  ‘I must go to her,’ said India and ran into the convent where she found Camille in the hall, wrapped in a blanket and being spoon-fed warm soup by Sister Agnes. India walked over and knelt in front of her.

  ‘Hello, Camille,’ she said.

  ‘Are you India?’ asked the girl.

  ‘That’s right, I told you I would follow.’

  ‘You are very pretty,’ said the girl.

  ‘So are you,’ laughed India, ‘though very dirty.’

  ‘I haven’t washed for ages,’ said Camille.

  ‘Me neither,’ said India, ‘did they give you any chocolate?’

  ‘No,’ said Camille sadly.

  ‘I’ll tell you what,’ said India, ‘when this is all over and you are well again, I will buy you the biggest bar of chocolate I can find for being so brave. How about that?’

  ‘I would like that,’ said Camille.

  The door opened and a team of paramedics came into the hall.

  ‘Will you stay with me?’ asked Camille.

  ‘No, you have to go home, now. These people are like doctors and they will look after you. Is that okay?’

  Camille nodded.

  ‘Good and I will see you again real soon.’

  ‘Don’t forget the chocolate,’ said Camille.

  ‘I won’t,’ laughed India and blew her a kiss.

  Camille returned the compliment and smiled before being led away by the female paramedic.

  Brandon came in and sat next to India.

  ‘You okay?’ he asked.

  ‘I think so,’ she said, wiping away a tear.

  ‘You’ve been great,’ he said, ‘but it’s all over now.’

  ‘Any longer and she may have died,’ said India.

  ‘If it wasn’t for Mike and his gang, we would all be dead,’ said Brandon.

  ‘Just as well you called them,’ said India.

  ‘I didn’t,’ said Brandon, ‘I made the arrangements with Mike but didn’t operate the beacon. The last time I saw it was in Sister Bernice’s cell.’

  ‘Do you think she operated it?’

  ‘I don’t think so, anyway, it would have been a waste of time, it works using the satellite system and there is no signal in the valley.’

  ‘Why don’t you ask her,’ said India.

  ‘I will,’ said Brandon looking around, ‘I wonder where she is?’

  ----

  Two miles away, on top of the hill at the end of the valley, a squad of soldiers were searching the snow covered forest floor, their eyes seeking something very specific. One stopped in his tracks and put his hand up to signal those around him.

  ‘Stop,’ he shouted, ‘I’ve found it.’ A mound of snow lay at his feet and just beneath the surface, the lights of three LED bulbs were flashing green. He knelt down and scraped away the snow to expose the beacon.’

  ‘Shit,’ said the soldier as he revealed a grey frozen hand still clutching the device.

  ‘Poor sod,’ said one of the soldiers, ‘who is it?’

  The first soldier scraped away more snow and stood back in surprise.

  ‘Fucking hell,’ he said quietly, ‘it’s a bloody nun.’

  All four soldiers stared down at the frozen features of Sister Bernice.

  ----

  Chapter 37

  Littlewick Green - England 2010

  ‘So,’ said Brandon, ‘I hear you went back to the convent recently.’

  ‘I did,’ said India, ‘the new Mother Superior kindly allowed me back into the tomb where we found Camille.’

  ‘Really? Why go back down there?’

  ‘Oh, just something I had to do. When I was down there the first time, I accidentally broke an urn of ashes. I couldn’t leave them like that, all over the floor so I had a new one made and the convent arranged for a small internment ceremony to rededicate the ashes.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Brandon, ‘I see.’

  The sun beat down on both of them. It had been several months since the cult of Mortuus Virgo had been uncovered and they were back in the village of Littlewick green. They had lunched at the pub and taken a stroll around the church of St Lawrence. Now they both sat on a bench against the church wall, overlooking the massive oak at the centre o
f the peaceful cemetery.

  ‘I haven’t heard much about it on the news,’ said India.

  ‘No and I don’t think you will.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ sighed Brandon, ‘but it seems Gatilusi was right. These people have friends in the highest places. The gunmen have disappeared, Gatilusi claimed diplomatic immunity and is back in Samothrace and we have been instructed we are not to talk about it.’

  ‘But that’s mad,’ said India, ‘what about those poor girls?’

  ‘The ones from the convent are being looked after by social services.’

  ‘And Camille? Surely her abduction hasn’t been covered up?’

  ‘Her family has asked for no publicity, they want to be left alone.’

  ‘But she’s the Prime Minister’s niece.’

  ‘Look,’ said Brandon, ‘I don’t know the details but like I said, they have friends in high places.’

  ‘Then it has all been for nothing.’

  ‘Not really, at least no more girls will be abducted around here.’

  ‘But what about the others? Jacob said there are similar places all around the world.’

  ‘We can’t change the world, India,’ he said, ‘Leave it to the authorities. Anyway, forget all that, why did you call me?’

  ‘Well, haven’t seen you for a while and thought it would be nice to catch up.’

  ‘Yes but why here?’

  ‘Something has been bothering me,’ said India.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Remember I told you that over the years there had been at least two excavations of the temple on Weycock Hill.’

  ‘Vaguely.’

  ‘Well, one of the excavations found two coffins beneath the temple but only one had the remains of anyone inside. The other was empty.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well it would seem that the body had been removed deliberately a long, long time ago, probably to protect the occupant from grave robbers.’

  ‘Why would grave robbers take a body?’

  ‘I believe Rubria was eventually buried under the temple on Weycock Hill. For hundreds of years, she and the Palladium lay there undisturbed but when the Romans left Britain in 410 AD, the temple would have been at risk from anyone who knew she lay there. However, we now know that by then, Vesta had a great following and I think her followers would have taken steps to protect her remains and those of the Palladium.’