The Stone of Madness

by Nick Baker

  ‘You were right about the sprocket,’ said Aedh disconsolately. ‘Any idea how long it’s been like that?’

  ‘Ah got here this morning,’ said Mickey. ‘It didna take me long tae realise there was no way Ah could fix it. Ah went off up yonder tae look for help and found a lock-keeper’s cottage nae far upstream, just before ye get tae the river. He put me in touch with a mechanic; he was busy today, but he’s promised tae be here tomorrow. Better be anyway, Ah’ve got tae be in Oxford the day after.

  ‘Look, why don’t ye go back and get yerselves sorted out, and then come back and join me for a drink and perhaps a bite tae eat. Ah could do with the company; nae seen anyone aboot for days.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you, but …’ Aedh replied, but before he could continue, Seoc had stretched out a hand and covered his brother’s mouth to drown out the rest of his words.

  ‘We’d love to! We’ll be back in a few minutes, and I’ll bring some nettle beer,’ said Seoc brightly. ‘I don’t think I could stand another night with my serious brother here. It’s about time we had a laugh!’

  Lily and Mickey beamed at Seoc’s antics, and although Lily knew that Aedh would be furious, she was secretly glad of the opportunity for some light relief after the fear of pursuit that had hung over them all day.

  Soon after, Lily and the boys made their way back to Mickey’s boat. Seoc struggled with the heavy flagon of beer he had in tow while Aedh steadfastly refused to help him, still demonstrably seething at his brother’s irresponsible behaviour. Aedh’s usual mild-mannered nature had been sorely tested yet again by the carefree attitude of his younger brother, and even with Lily’s support, it had taken some considerable persuasion to get Aedh to agree to go back with them. Lily was convinced that Aedh had only succumbed to their badgering so that he could retain some control over their actions, particularly if they were walking into trouble. Aedh eventually seemed to accept that Mickey was harmless, but not sufficiently to drop the charade of referring to Lily by her alias, reasoning that if anyone had been snooping around asking questions, Lily’s name would be the first to crop up.

  Mickey cordially welcomed them into the snug cabin of the Largo Law and bade them sit down around a small, rectangular table barely big enough to accommodate the boys on one side, and Lily and Mickey on the other.

  ‘I couldn’t help but notice the name of your boat,’ said Lily, shuffling along the bench to make room for their host. ‘What does it mean? Is it a place or something?’

  ‘Aye, indeed it is, lassie,’ Mickey replied with a wry grin. ‘Largo Law’s a ben that overlooks the place of ma birth—Lundin. They say it’s an extinct volcano, but Ah wouldna ken. Always seemed a little grand tae think we’ve had volcanoes in Scotland if ye ask me.

  ‘Bit of a coincidence that yer boat should be named after a range of mountains. Ireland, isn’t it?’ Mickey added, much to the boys’ surprise.

  ‘Ireland it is!’ Seoc replied proudly. ‘But how come you’ve heard of Na Cruacha Dubha?’

  ‘Och, there’s not many things Ah dinna ken,’ Mickey replied mysteriously. ‘Now come on, what would ye like tae drink?’

  Seoc had placed the flagon of beer on the table as he entered, leaving little room for anything else. ‘What say we start with my nettle beer? I guarantee you won’t be disappointed. You’ll never taste anything as good as this!’

  ‘Ah’ll get some glasses,’ said Mickey. ‘Ah can hardly wait!’

  Seoc filled four tumblers that Mickey had laid out on the table, doing his best not to spill any of the precious fluid. He watched expectantly as they each took a sip of the cloudy ale, and was delighted when Lily and Mickey took further draughts from their glasses.

  ‘It’s delicious!’ exclaimed Mickey. ‘Just as ye said it would be. Ye must tell me the recipe.’

  ‘Family secret,’ replied Seoc, touching the side of his nose mischievously, ‘but I’m sure I could make an exception for you. Pretty simple, actually. Nettles, lemon, ginger, dandelion, yeast, and the most precious ingredient of them all …’

  ‘Which is what?’ Mickey enquired.

  Seoc could hardly contain himself in his desperation to reveal the secret. ‘Water, fresh from the mountains of MacGillycuddy’s Reeks, of course!’ he replied excitedly while raising his glass in anticipation of a toast. There was a resounding clink as the four tumblers met before they all drained the contents.

  While the conversation strayed between topics, and the level of laughter rose in keeping with the volume of beer imbibed, Lily took the opportunity to take in the surroundings of the boat’s interior. She could not fail to notice the various herbs and flowers that hung from the rafters, and despite her encyclopaedic knowledge of such things, she was puzzled by the number of items she did not recognise. A feeling of unease briefly surfaced but just as quickly evaporated as the nettle beer dulled her wits, enriching her with a misguided impression of well-being. She looked at the boys and seeing them laugh so freely only served to enhance her sense of security. Even when she noted the incongruently manicured fingernails of her host, neatly painted black, she failed to see the warning signs before it was too late.

  ‘Now it’s ma turn for a treat,’ said Mickey, slurring her words. ‘Just like Seoc, here, Ah’ve got ma own special brew. Come on, Ah’d like ye all tae try it. Just one glass, mind ye, and that’ll be enough.’

  ‘What issit?’ cried Seoc excitedly.

  Mickey squeezed out of the cubicle and retrieved a small bottle hidden at the back of a cupboard cram-full of a variety of interesting looking provisions. The azure blue flask looked as if it had not been opened for some considerable time judging by the residue that had crystallised around the bottle’s neck. They all stared expectantly as Mickey removed the cork and poured out a clear, viscid liquid into four tumblers. She came back with the glasses and carefully placed them into the three outstretched hands that greeted her return before depositing her own on the table.

  ‘It’s a mixture of several ingredients, much like yer own beer, Seoc. Smell it and Ah guarantee ye’ll nae be able tae resist it,’ she said, pouring herself a generous measure.

  Lily held the glass to her nose and inhaled the heady mixture of exotic aromas she could not place. It smelt delicious, just as Mickey had promised. On a count of three, Lily and the boys raised their glasses and drained the contents in a single gulp while failing to observe that their host’s glass failed to pass beyond her lips, caught up as they were with the sweet flavour and burning aftertaste of the imprecise liquor. The soporific effect of the drink did not take long to manifest combined with the beer they had already consumed, and within minutes, Lily’s eyelids started to droop and her vision blur. She looked at the boys and was horrified to see them slumped forwards, soundly asleep with their heads resting on the table. She staggered to her feet, panic welling up inside. Her head was spinning, and she teetered ungainly before she toppled back into the seat. She threw out a trailing arm to steady herself, inadvertently clipping the empty glasses on the table and sending them spilling onto the floor.

  Mickey got up from the bench, smiling smugly. ‘You’ll nae be waking soon,’ she said, stroking the boys’ hair in turn. ‘And as for you,’ she said, regarding Lily, ‘look at the mess you’ve made,’ she snarled, sweeping the broken glass under the table with a flick of a foot.

  Lily scrutinised the woman with a combination of fear and loathing through eyes displaying twin images that swayed in and out of focus. ‘W-what h-have you d-done?’

  ‘What do you think, you stupid girl?’ Mickey said in a voice that was strikingly bereft of a Scottish accent.

  Lily shook her head as a sickening comprehension dawned on her.

  ‘You’ve been slipped a Mickey—my very own Mickey Finn— and you were all too dumb to realise,’ the woman said.

  ‘A M-M-Mickey?’

  ‘Exactly!’ she trumpeted. ‘I did tell you it was a concoction of my own making, didn’t I? The drink’s a blend of bloodroot, poppy and sku
llcap, not to mention a liberal dose of chloral hydrate I enlisted from an all-too-helpful pharmacist. The mixture ensures rapid catalepsy in anyone stupid enough to drink it, and while the boys succumbed almost immediately, I see you’re made of sterner stuff. You better be sleeping before help arrives to spirit you away.’

  Lily felt the urge to vomit. ‘A-Aurelia?’ she said, already fearing the answer.

  ‘Well done! You got there at last,’ she said, clapping her hands in mock applause. She parted the curtains and switched a torch on and off several times in quick succession.

  Lily’s head slumped forwards and struck the tabletop with a loud thump. She heard a vague sound as the cabin door opened followed by loud boots stomping on wooden floorboards.

  ‘I’ve brought some bags for the boys,’ a man said in a gruff voice. ‘I’ll get ’em tied up and weighted, and then I’ll toss ’em overboard.’

  Lily fought to keep herself awake, but it was all to no avail. The last thought she had as she lapsed into a deep and dreamless sleep was that she had led the boys into a trap, and they would pay for it with their lives.

  27

  THE STONE OF MADNESS

  Disturbing News

  HENRY PRICE STARED VACANTLY ahead. Dark rings were gathered around his eyes like storm clouds, testimony to a chronic lack of sleep. His gaze was fixed on a patch of grass in front of him when a wren hopped into view, brazenly grabbing a worm from below his feet. He did not respond to the appearance of the small bird, unwilling or unable to break free from his preoccupation with recent events. It was much too cold to be sitting in the garden, but the chill wind that gnawed his bones was his way of assuaging the guilt that had lingered from the moment he returned to discover Lily gone.

  Price stirred at the sound of footsteps squelching in sodden turf. He looked up to see Albright traipsing towards him, and noted the same careworn expression on his manservant’s face that had blighted his own features since his return five days earlier.

  ‘What is it, Albright?’ he said testily. ‘I thought I said I didn’t want to be disturbed.’

  ‘Indeed you did, sir,’ replied Albright in his familiar deep voice. ‘I’m afraid you have a visitor. She was most insistent that I came to look for you. I—’

  ‘Is there news of Lily?’ Price butted in.

  ‘No, unfortunately not, sir,’ Albright replied with a curt shake of his head.

  A brief spark of hope immediately evaporated with Albright’s words. ‘Who’d come visiting at a time like this, Albright?’

  ‘A Miss Natacha Lec, sir. I believe her father is a colleague of yours.’

  Price was nonplussed. He had not been expecting Natacha and could not think why she would call unannounced. ‘What does she want?’ he enquired.

  ‘She didn’t say, sir. Would you like me to send her away?’

  Price thought for a few moments. ‘No … no. You did the right thing, Albright. Tell her I’ll be with her in a few minutes.’

  Price rummaged through his pockets for a small band to tie up his hair. For the first time in days, he considered his appearance and rubbed his eyes as if this simple act would wipe away the fatigue that undoubtedly showed on his face. He felt like an old man as he struggled to his feet, and the effort it took to get up from the garden bench reaffirmed the exhaustion that seeped into the core of his bones.

  On his return to the house, Price took a detour to the bathroom. He sprinkled liberal amounts of cold water on his face in the vain hope that it would dispel the mixture of guilt and fear indelibly etched there. When he opened the double doors to the sitting room, Natacha jumped up to greet him. As she approached, he was shocked to see a look of great anguish on her face and subtle smudges of mascara around her eyes.

  ‘Natacha?’ said Price uneasily. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

  ‘It’s … it’s my father. He’s … he’s dead!’ Natacha blurted out.

  Price hesitated before wrapping his arms around her. He held her in silence, comforting her as she cried until her shoulders relaxed and she pulled away.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Natacha murmured. ‘I promised myself this wouldn’t happen, but I just didn’t know what else to do. I’ve come straight from my father’s house. You were the only person I could turn to.’

  ‘Come on, sit down,’ Price said, guiding her to the sofa and sitting down beside her. ‘Can I get you anything?’ he said, offering her a handkerchief, which she gladly accepted.

  Natacha shook her head and wiped away the tears. ‘No … no, thank you.’

  Price waited for Natacha to compose herself. When she finally stirred, she met Price’s gaze head on. ‘I went over to see my father this morning,’ she began determinedly. ‘He called on me a few days ago, and I’ve been worrying about him ever since. When I arrived, there were two policemen at the door. They wouldn’t let me in, but when I told them who I was, they let me pass. A man named Fox met me in the hall. I believe you know him?’

  Price nodded. ‘Yes. He’s head of Internal Security. He’s an associate of mine, and he knows … er … knew your father through his position on the Council,’ said Price, immediately regretting his words. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he added remorsefully.

  Natacha smiled weakly, giving Price a glimpse of the girl he remembered from their first meeting.

  ‘Fox led me into the lounge and sat me down. I knew something awful had happened, but nothing could prepare me for what he had to say.’

  She paused for a moment and licked her lips nervously. ‘He told me he’d been contacted by the police after they’d received a call from the maid. She found my father’s body slumped in a chair when she went in to clean the lounge this morning. He’d been dead for some hours, apparently. In view of my father’s position, Fox was called in.’

  Price wondered why no one had contacted him. ‘What did Fox say?’

  ‘He said they were treating my father’s death as suicide. They think he took an overdose.’

  ‘An overdose!’ said Price, astonished.

  ‘I thought that’s how you’d react! Anyone who knew my father would also know that he’d never kill himself.’

  ‘And did you explain this to Fox?’

  ‘Well, no, as a matter of fact, I didn’t. My mind was in turmoil; I didn’t know what to think. There was also …’ Natacha began before she faltered.

  ‘What is it?’ Price prompted.

  ‘I don’t really know, but there was something about Fox that made me question his motives. I got the impression that he wasn’t being completely honest with me. He told me a doctor would be taking blood samples for toxicology. He also said there’d have to be a post-mortem. I don’t really know why, but it just seemed sensible to keep my thoughts to myself.’

  ‘What made Fox think your father had taken an overdose?’

  ‘There was a glass next to the body and an empty bottle of wine. Fox led me to believe that there was some kind of residue in the glass. He suggested my father had been drinking more than just alcohol and implied that he’d taken something with the specific intention of killing himself.’

  ‘He seems to be making some assumptions,’ observed Price. ‘I wonder what makes him so certain that your father killed himself?’

  ‘Apparently, my father was on his own last night. There’d been no visitors before he dismissed his manservant around 9 o’clock, and no suggestion that anyone called on him after that. Fox said that the obvious conclusion was that he took his own life.’

  ‘And you don’t think he did.’

  ‘No. I think he was murdered,’ she stated categorically.

  ‘But why on earth would anyone want to kill your father?’

  ‘As you well know, Henry, it’s impossible for someone of my father’s standing not to make a few enemies along the way.’

  ‘Did he express any worries?’

  ‘Not until two nights ago, no.’

  ‘Why? What happened?’

  ‘That’s why I’m here, Henry. I believe this
business has something to do with you.’

  Price felt his stomach lurch. ‘How?’

  ‘My father turned up unannounced at my studio a couple of nights ago; this is rather unusual in itself, and I could tell something was bothering him. He began by enquiring about you. I wondered whether it was something to do with our recent meeting, but then he mentioned that you’d said something at the last Council meeting that was troubling him.’

  Price tried to recall the meeting, but his memory was blighted by Lily’s disappearance. ‘I don’t recollect anything out of the ordinary,’ he said, frowning.

  ‘My father’s usually reluctant to discuss anything related to his work, but on this occasion, he told me about a mistake he’d made some years ago. He also added that it was not until recently that he’d realised its significance.’

  ‘Mistake? What kind of mistake?’ said Price, still unsure of where all of this was leading.

  ‘At the meeting, you mentioned a name my father had long forgotten; a man by the name of Luca Nexus, I believe.’

  Price recalled referring to Nexus in reference to his meeting with Asquith but had deliberately kept the conversation to a minimum. ‘That’s right. I remember now,’ said Price, nodding, ‘but I didn’t mention anything other than the man’s name. I also recall that it was a coughing fit of your father’s that interrupted the proceedings. I was very grateful at the time as it deflected attention away from a subject I didn’t really wish to discuss, but in light of what you’ve just said, perhaps the disruption was intentional. Did your father say anything more about this mistake?’

  ‘He told me that Nexus had run into trouble some years ago. He’d been carrying out research that the medical authorities deemed unethical, but not everyone agreed. Nexus had support in high places, and once his political allies realised he was about to be struck off, they recruited my father to ensure that Nexus would be allowed to continue his work whatever the outcome of the hearing. They told my father that Nexus’ work would have enormous benefits for mankind. I’m afraid he did whatever was asked of him to deflect attention away from Nexus. He also helped him to set up his work in secret after the hearing without any unwelcome intrusion from the medical profession or the media. My father had no reason to doubt the source of the information.’