Spectre's Rest

by Nick Moseley

  ‘No,’ said Montano. ‘We’ll find him eventually though. This is a big building but there’s no way off the site, unless he can fly.’

  ‘He didn’t look all that aerodynamic to me,’ Trev said. ‘Unless someone throws him like a javelin.’

  ‘Unlikely,’ said Montano.

  ‘So what happens now?’ Trev asked. ‘I was sent here to interview Corbyn and he’s dead. On that basis, there’s not much point in me being here. I want to go home.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but nobody’s going anywhere for the time being,’ said Montano, ‘and that includes you.’

  ‘Well how long are we going to be stuck here?’ Trev said. ‘You can’t just hold us here indefinitely.’

  ‘Actually, I can,’ said Montano. ‘Thank you for your time. Would you send Mishti in next, please?’

  ‘Fetch her yourself,’ Trev snapped, getting out of his seat.

  ‘Feargal called this morning, by the way,’ Montano said, ignoring Trev’s outburst. ‘Please can you call him back? Use the admin office again, if you like.’

  ‘Awesome,’ Trev growled. He stalked out of the office and shut the door. Desai was standing in the corridor, peering out of the window.

  ‘You’re next,’ Trev said.

  ‘Whereabouts did you see the creature last night?’ Desai said.

  ‘Down there, by the wall,’ Trev replied, pointing. ‘It was in the shadows, but I could see its eyes.’

  ‘I’ll ask Grace to get someone down there to have a look,’ Desai said. ‘The ground’s wet. There might be footprints, or some other sign it was there.’

  ‘You don’t believe me, do you?’ said Trev. He rubbed at his eyes and tried to keep his irritation in check. It was a losing battle.

  Desai shrugged. ‘I’m keeping an open mind,’ she said. ‘To be honest, I’m hoping you’re wrong. Because if you aren’t, we’ve got a large supernatural creature prowling the grounds as well as a murderer.’

  ‘I saw what I saw,’ Trev said. ‘It was there. I’m telling you.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Desai. Her tone was light but Trev could tell that she was unconvinced. ‘I’d better not keep Grace waiting.’

  ‘Bollocks to her,’ Trev said. ‘I’ve got to go and ring Deacon now. Wish me luck.’

  ‘What for?’ said Desai. ‘It’s not your fault that Corbyn was killed. He’ll be pissed off, yeah, but it won’t be directed at you.’

  ‘Want to bet?’ said Trev.

  Desai rolled her eyes at him and went into Montano’s office. Trev walked down the corridor to the admin office. It was deserted. The admin staff had left the previous evening and with the prison on lockdown they weren’t allowed back in. Trev settled himself at the same desk and dialled the Ops Room number. This time a female voice answered. She told Trev that Deacon was expecting his call and put him straight through.

  ‘Trevor,’ said Deacon when he picked up. ‘What the hell is going on down there?’

  So much for not directing his anger at me, Trev thought. Out loud he said ‘Corbyn was murdered in his cell last night. The place is locked down until Grace and her team catch whoever did it.’

  ‘I know all that, Grace has already filled me in,’ said Deacon. ‘I want to know why I didn’t hear about it until I called her this morning. Grace told me you’d left a message for me last night. There’s no record of that at this end.’

  Trev felt a little shiver creep up his spine. ‘I knew there was something weird about that bloke,’ he said.

  ‘What bloke?’

  ‘The one who took my message last night. He told me you were out on an op so I couldn’t speak to you, but he’d leave a note for you to call in the morning.’

  ‘I wasn’t on an op last night,’ Deacon said. ‘I can’t spare the time at the moment. I was here until quite late, working in my office. There was no reason I couldn’t have taken your call.’

  ‘So why did he tell me…’ Trev tailed off, struck by a new thought. ‘Crap. Do you think that was the traitor I spoke to?’

  ‘It’s possible, but it doesn’t make much sense,’ Deacon said. ‘Whoever the traitor is, they’ve worked very hard at covering their tracks. I don’t understand why they’d suddenly decide to reveal themselves like that. It’s pretty obvious we’d pick up on it.’

  ‘Check the logs for last night,’ Trev said. ‘See if they’ve been deleted.’

  ‘I’m already doing just that,’ Deacon said. Trev could hear the clatter of his computer keyboard in the background. ‘No, it’s all still here. I’m backing it up to my machine though, just in case it disappears.’

  ‘So if it wasn’t the traitor, then who was it? Just somebody pissing about?’

  ‘I don’t put people on the Ops Room staff if they’re prone to “pissing about”,’ said Deacon.

  ‘The evidence seems to be against you on that,’ Trev replied.

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Deacon. ‘I’ll speak to everyone who was on duty last night, of course. Can you describe the man’s voice?’

  Trev did his best to mimic the operator’s voice, inwardly seething at Deacon’s obvious implication that he was lying. Montano, Desai and now Deacon, he thought. Why am I wasting my breath trying to warn people about the weird stuff that’s going on if none of them will take me seriously?

  ‘All right, I’ll look into this as soon as I can,’ said Deacon. His tone suggested that it ranked quite low down on his current list of priorities.

  ‘Great,’ said Trev. ‘Any chance you could have a word with Grace and ask her to release me and Mishti? With Corbyn dead there’s no point in us being here.’

  ‘I’m sure she’ll let you go shortly,’ Deacon said. ‘The investigation is in her hands and I’d like both you and Mishti to extend her all the cooperation you can.’

  ‘It wouldn’t hurt for you to just have a quiet chat with her, though, would it?’ Trev persisted. ‘I don’t want to be stuck here all week.’

  ‘This is a serious case, Trevor,’ said Deacon. ‘I’m not going to ask Grace to cut corners on my behalf, and I’m certainly not going to undermine her authority by telling her how to manage things.’

  ‘Right,’ said Trev, grinding his teeth.

  ‘Corbyn was quite high-profile within the supernatural community,’ Deacon continued. ‘When word gets out that he’s dead, people will ask questions. We have to be thorough in this investigation, and if that means that you and Mishti will be inconvenienced for a few days, then I’m afraid that’s how it has to be.’

  ‘I think Corbyn knew who the traitor was,’ Trev said.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ said Deacon, caught off guard.

  ‘That was the information he wanted to bargain with,’ Trev said. ‘He didn’t come out and say it, but he fenced around it so I knew what he was talking about.’

  ‘He didn’t give you any clue as to who it might be?’

  ‘No. He just said he wanted to talk to you directly and do a deal for the information.’

  Deacon let out a breath. ‘Damn it. Well, that at least gives us a motive for his murder.’

  ‘Do you think that the traitor might actually be here?’ Trev asked.

  ‘Doubtful,’ Deacon said. ‘In the past they’ve always worked through a proxy. The assassin’s probably another hired hand. My concern is that Corbyn isn’t their only target.’

  ‘Crap,’ said Trev. ‘Good point. Right, now you really need to get me out of here.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Deacon said, ‘but if I start pulling strings it’ll make people suspicious and we might well tip off the traitor that we know about them. We need to be subtle. In the meantime, stay close to Mishti. You can trust her, and she’ll protect you if need be. She’s one of the best vapour weapon specialists I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘OK,’ said Trev. ‘It didn’t help that Grace confiscated The Twins off me as soon as I walked in through the door. You knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Deacon. ‘It’s a prison. You
don’t just let armed visitors wander about the premises.’

  ‘Yeah well, thanks,’ said Trev. ‘If you could get Grace to give them back to me, it’d go a long way towards making me feel safer.’

  ‘Leave it with me,’ said Deacon. ‘Be as cautious as you can, and I’ll be in touch shortly.’

  ‘Don’t leave it too long, will you?’ said Trev. ‘I don’t want to follow Corbyn into the mortuary.’

  ‘We won’t let that happen,’ Deacon said. ‘Don’t worry.’

  He rang off and Trev put the receiver down. ‘Why do people only ever say “don’t worry” when there’s something you really should be worrying about?’ he asked himself.

  He got out of his chair and went to see whether Desai’s interview had finished. He hoped she wouldn’t mind having a frightened estate agent hiding behind her for the next couple of days.

  Fifteen

  ‘Why does Feargal think you might be in danger?’ Desai asked. ‘If the killer was here for Corbyn, why would they also go after one of his worst enemies?’

  ‘It’s to do with the information he had,’ Trev said. He’d had a bit of time to come up with a story which would explain why he might be a target but without having to mention the traitor to Desai. ‘We don’t know what it was, and never will. But if whoever killed Corbyn was trying to silence him, they might come after me on the off chance that Corbyn had passed the information to me during the interview.’

  ‘It’s possible, I suppose,’ Desai said. She was perched on the edge of the desk in her room in the staff quarters. Montano had sent them back to their rooms after the interviews. Trev was quite pleased to observe that the women’s accommodation was no nicer than the men’s.

  ‘It won’t hurt to keep our eyes open,’ Trev said. ‘I asked Feargal to get me The Twins back, but I think he’s worried about stepping on Grace’s toes if he starts giving her orders.’

  ‘Politics,’ Desai said. ‘The investigation belongs to Grace as it stands. Feargal has the authority to take over, but he’d have to come down here and do it in person. That wouldn’t look good for Grace. It would imply that she wasn’t trusted to manage things herself, and Feargal would have to give a pretty good reason to Jeannette Nicklin for taking control of the investigation.’

  ‘I might be biased, but I reckon that keeping me alive is a pretty good reason,’ Trev grumbled. ‘I need those weapons.’

  ‘If you keep nagging at her, she’s just going to dig her heels in,’ Desai said. ‘She’d be under a lot of pressure even without the ghost of the East End incident hanging over her. If this investigation goes the same way, then that’s it for her career. Feargal’s holding back to give her the space she needs.’

  ‘He’s giving her enough rope to hang herself, you mean,’ said Trev.

  Desai shrugged. ‘It cuts both ways. If she gets her hands on Corbyn’s murderer, she gets all the credit. If she fails, she gets all the blame.’

  ‘Well, we know that Phelps is on the premises somewhere,’ Trev said. ‘They just need to find him.’

  ‘Funny you should mention that,’ Desai said, ‘because during my interview I offered our services to help with the search.’

  ‘You did?’ said Trev, skilfully concealing his enthusiasm at being volunteered for dangerous work without his knowledge.

  ‘I thought it would be better than sitting around in our rooms for hours,’ said Desai. ‘And once the killer’s caught, we can go home.’

  ‘There is that,’ said Trev, grudgingly. ‘But even the well-lit areas in this place are scary. I don’t like the idea of sticking my nose into all the darkened corners looking for a murderer.’

  ‘Grace didn’t seem very keen on my offer anyway,’ Desai said. ‘I don’t think it’s going to be a problem at this rate.’

  Trev nodded and looked at his watch. ‘Want to see what’s on telly?’

  They took up residence in the common room for the rest of the morning. Trev was a little apprehensive about going in, though he quickly found that the room was nowhere near as creepy during daylight hours. Desai set about the crossword puzzles in Monday and Tuesday’s discarded newspapers, while Trev killed off a few more of his remaining brain cells by watching daytime TV. From what he saw it seemed that the best way for two people to resolve a dispute was to scream abuse at each other in front of an audience of braying simpletons.

  He shook his head in disgust. ‘Look at these inbred morons.’

  ‘What are you watching?’ asked Desai. ‘Jeremy Kyle?’

  ‘No, Prime Minister’s Questions,’ said Trev.

  Before long he gave up on the television and joined Desai at the table to “assist” her with the crosswords. Within five minutes she had tactfully made it clear that his help was about as welcome as a fart in a crowded lift, so he amused himself by flicking through the tabloids and trying to spot the handful of actual news stories amongst the celebrity articles and bombastic opinion pieces. It turned out to be quite a challenge, and kept him more-or-less occupied until lunchtime.

  The canteen’s lunch menu consisted of a selection of stale sandwiches. Trev and Desai weren’t surprised, and collected their food with weary resignation. The blue-rinsed angel of death was back behind the counter and looking even less happy than before, her little paper hat sagging at a forlorn angle. If looks could kill, Trev and Desai would have been two smoking pairs of shoes seconds after entering the room, such was her delight at seeing them again. She wasn’t the only one, however. Three guards were gathered around a table eating their own lunches, and they muttered amongst themselves at the sight of the two Custodians.

  ‘I think we’re getting the blame for the lockdown, Corbyn’s murder, or both,’ said Desai.

  ‘Or maybe the food,’ Trev said. ‘Then again, they haven’t tried to kill us yet, so maybe not.’

  ‘If they’re living on a diet of this stuff, they wouldn’t have the strength,’ said Desai.

  They finished their food quickly and returned to the common room to find Richie already there, looking for them.

  ‘There you are,’ he said. ‘Been looking for you. I thought you were supposed to stay in your rooms?’

  ‘We went to get some lunch,’ Desai said. ‘I’m sure Grace didn’t intend us to starve.’

  ‘If you’re going to leave the staff quarters you should let someone know,’ Richie said, clearly determined to make his point.

  ‘All right,’ said Trev. ‘We’re going to leave the staff quarters every day at breakfast time, lunchtime and dinner time. Just so you know.’

  Richie flushed but didn’t rise to the bait. ‘Grace wants to speak to you both,’ he said. ‘Come with me, please.’

  Montano didn’t look any less stressed than she had during Trev’s interview that morning. In fact she was even twitchier, her fingertips tapping away on her desk as if she were trying to summon help via Morse code.

  ‘I’ve considered your offer to help with the search, Mishti,’ she said, ‘and I’ve decided to let you help out.’

  ‘Good of you,’ said Trev, deadpan.

  ‘Thanks, Grace,’ said Desai, the toe of her left shoe swivelling outwards to give Trev a soft kick. ‘Where would you like us to start?’

  ‘I’ve paired you with Mac,’ Montano said consulting a notepad. ‘Trevor can team up with Richie.’

  ‘Why can’t Mishti and I be a team?’ Trev asked. It’ll be difficult for me to hide behind her otherwise, he mentally added. Although there’s quite a lot of Richie to hide behind, if need be.

  ‘Because you don’t know the prison layout well enough,’ said Montano. ‘I don’t want any areas getting missed because you two got lost again.’

  ‘You could give us a map,’ Trev suggested.

  ‘This isn’t a debate,’ Montano snapped. ‘Either you agree to follow my instructions or you can go back to sitting in your rooms.’

  ‘Can I at least have my vapour weapons back?’

  ‘No,’ Montano said. ‘Rules are rules. Richie will be arm
ed well enough for the pair of you.’

  Trev scowled and considered his options. He was pretty sure that Desai was going to join the search regardless of whether he did, so he had a choice between having Richie as a substitute bodyguard or going back to his room, alone and unarmed.

  ‘Fine,’ he said to Montano. ‘Let’s get on with it.’

  ‘Good,’ she replied. ‘All right then. When Mac gets here, Mishti, I want the two of you to take the area around Block C, in particular those old offices on the upper floor. Richie, you and Trevor head down to Block D and search that area. Be thorough, and make sure to check in by radio.’

  Richie led Trev out of the office, leaving Desai behind to wait for Mac. She offered Trev an apologetic expression as he went by, and he replied with a weak smile.

  They headed along the corridor and then down the stairs, ending up at the back of the reception area. Trev looked through the cage wall and saw that the reception desk was unmanned. With the place locked down and nobody allowed in or out, it seemed the position of receptionist was redundant for the time being. Richie walked to a door in the wall opposite the stairs and unlocked it. It opened onto a long, featureless corridor.

  ‘So what’s the difference between the cell blocks?’ Trev asked, in an attempt to open a dialogue with the sullen guard.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Richie replied, re-locking the door behind them.

  ‘You know, Block A, Block B, Block C, all that,’ Trev said. ‘Are they for different types of prisoners? Vampires in one block, werewolves in another, that sort of thing?’

  ‘Oh right,’ said Richie. ‘Well Blocks A and B are for male prisoners. B is the maximum-security section. C is for female prisoners. D was for low-risk inmates, but there aren’t any of them left now. They’ve all been transferred to the new place.’

  ‘So we’ve got an empty cell block to search?’

  ‘Yeah. Plus a few storerooms and an office or two.’

  They passed the entrance to Cell Block C. Like Block A, it was secured with a big metal door and cage walls on either side. Trev stopped, meaning to ask Richie a question about the ratio of male to female prisoners or something, but the guard just carried on walking. Obviously the window for conversation had passed. Trev shrugged to himself and hurried to catch up.