by Daniel Kemp
Early on Saturday morning Wilson Burrows, aged thirty-seven, cryptologist, late of Bletchley Park now at the Ministry Of Supply, drove up outside Georgina's elegant detached family home in Fitzjohn's Avenue, Hampstead, sounded the horn of the green MG sports car and waited reading the sports pages of a daily newspaper. Five minutes later the two of them were on their way to the ferry port at Holyhead, excited to be expected at Grange Manor where a weekend of debauchery awaited.
Percy travelled by different means but by the same route the previous day, arriving late on Friday night and he, like Wilson, waited. Part of that night he slept hidden out of sight from the main building, concealed in a barn that he and Charlie had used during their time together.
* * *
“All you have to do now, Toby, is put the word out through your usual channels that the English lord who was springing leaks in his neighbour's pipes has engaged a different plumber to fix them. We have a little helper in Norway who will do the same thing. Poor old Cecil will be blackballed everywhere! Checkmate in two moves, I think. What say you?”
“Done deal, Meredith,” Toby replied.
“By the by, Toby, my English lord told me that he knew nothing of Tennessee. Afraid I had to believe him but I kicked him in the balls just for good measure. I have another of my men looking into it. I hope he comes up with the right results.”
Chapter Thirty-Four: Sleep
Silently Percy made quick progress over the broken, undulating Irish countryside towards the old Tudor timber-framed building of Grange Manor, as the saboteur that he was. His slim body and alert mind made him nearer to a fifteen-year-old than the fiftieth birthday he had just passed. Almost all his lost weight had returned along with his physical strength, losing none of his agility nor guile. Anything that was lacking was replaced by the mental image he had retained of his sister being subjected to her disgusting death, which he had never lost. Needing no incentive, nor artificial medical aids, he systematically set about what he'd come for. Unbolting the outhouse door where the four Dobermans were, he threw the anaesthetic soaked pieces of meat into the middle of the straw-covered floor, then listened as it was gorged on eagerly. Withdrawing under the moonless sky, he moved on to the hay loft, a quarter of a mile away directly opposite the rear door to the Manor, and there he left all of his heavy equipment.
Covertly he circled the house, searching for changes that could have happened between now and the last time he was here twenty-three long years ago. Nothing seemed altered. No new locks anywhere or any alarm system had been added, nor had the habit of leaving the first floor landing window open at night changed. All was going as Meredith had told him it would.
He grabbed two hours sleep then, as the sun broke over the horizon, it was through that open window that he quietly climbed, pulling up part of the army issue backpack as he did. His breathing was steady and his pulse rate even, as he slid to the carpeted landing floor. Silently he moved towards Grace's bedroom, the furthest from the stairs. She was alone, briefly waking as Percy placed the chloroform-soaked muslin over her nose and mouth, unable to make a sound, but had she done, there was nobody who could come to her rescue. In the room next to hers, Montague's loaded pistol was in the top drawer of the bedside table where he'd been told it would be. Montague's bed was empty. The one complication to Meredith's plan were the children that would be there. That problem now faced the resourceful Percy. It was perhaps the only moment where compassion and kind thoughts overrode his selfish introversion, albeit to aid a final self-seeking purpose. Placing the black balaclava hat over his head, he unlocked both bedroom doors where the six of them slept, simultaneously firing one shot into the landing ceiling.
It took a few minutes for the disorientated collection of both girls and boys to completely comprehend the situation presented by a gun-carrying, tall blacked-out figure telling them to get dressed and follow him down the stairs, but the realisation that he intended no danger quickly dawned, and down the stairs they filed. Percy was searching the kitchen for bags of any description when the first of the children arrived.
“Any of you know where that wicked old dragon of a witch, Grace, keeps her used shopping bags?”
“I do, mister,” said a boy no older than fourteen.
“I know where some are as well,” said a girl about twelve.
“Get one for each of you,” Percy retorted.
“How about empty bottles, or watertight containers? Any one of you know where they might be?” he asked.
Within a minutes or so all six of them were opening cupboard doors here and in the two adjoining rooms, happy to be involved in Percy's escapade. He addressed them in a soft, calm voice.
“Don't be worried about my masked face, it's for your own good. If you could see me then the Garda might force you to describe me, and that, kids, would not help, believe me! My friends might have to come and do bad things. Much worse than what the two of them here might make you do. But I'm here to help, not cause more misery. I'm going to burn this place down, with the wicked witch and three of their friends inside. The friends aren't arriving till later, but they're on the way to mess with you in nasty ways. So, this is what we're going to do. I'm going to hide you lot in that big barn, a way over from the kitchen door, far away from any harm they can cause. Okay so far, kids?”
'Oh yes,' they all replied.
“Now, there will be lots of screams coming from inside this house later today, followed by that fire I told you of. Then there will be a really big bang. It will be a bit like bonfire night, if any of you have seen one of them?” Two brothers replied, 'We have, mister.'
“Good, then after I leave you in that barn tell the rest about the fireworks and noise of a bonfire night, so the little ones don't fret about anything. What we have to do now, is find enough food and drink that'll last you until I've done what I have to. You can come out of the barn when the fire engines arrive along with the police. Tell them that I told you I was an angel come to spread angel dust on the world.” Then, with a wide grin that none of the children could see, he added,
“Tell 'em I looked like Zorro, without his sword!” He laughed like a spider would, creepily.
“They will find good homes for the lot of you, trust me on that. By this time tomorrow you will all be tucked up in nice warm beds somewhere safe away from all that's happened and could happen to you here. It's just before six in the morning now, so by six o'clock tonight I'll be well gone, and all will be over and finished. Go help yourselves to what's in the fridge and the storerooms, not forgetting the drinks you'll need.”
“What about toilets, mister? I don't suppose there are any in a barn. Are there?” the tallest girl, aged about fourteen, asked as the others looked at her in ways ranging from amazement to admiration in thinking of such a thing.
“Of course there won't be, Clara, it's a barn full of hay and as far I know hay don't need to pee. We can make do for half a day.” A boy with hazel coloured, sunken eyes and brown mousy hair offered as a way out to the dilemma, reminding Percy of himself at that age, not by appearances but by the maturity that had been exacted too soon from a child.
“Okay, let's be having you fill those bags. Make sure you use the loos here before you go, and pack up whatever belongings you have upstairs. I'm going to play a few games on the dragon lady who's still asleep in her bedroom after something I gave her to keep out of our way before those friends of hers arrive, so you might hear a bit of noise. Just imagine that it's you sending her crazy and get on with looking after one another. If you leave me to my job then all will end happy ever after.”
After leading the perky, yet unsure children to that place of safety, Percy fetched the remainder of his equipment from the barn, spreading it out on the kitchen table then returned to Grace's room. He dragged her as painfully as he could from her bed, zigzagging along the open landing, then down the sixteen flights of stairs by her hair, twice having to renew his grip as handfuls were pulled out.
The chloroform h
ad done its work as not even his kick into her back woke her, but that wasn't Percy's plan. He wanted her awake. Unrolling the pack of the syringes and dosage phials Charlie had got from Douglas Simmons, he stabbed the one marked adrenaline fiercely into her stomach after ripping every shred of clothing from her. He forced her eyelids open and spoke calmly at her.
“Remember me, Grace, do you? Percy Crow's the name. One-time houseboy to your husband. No, you don't, now that is a shame. But I'll recover from it, which is something you won't do. Cast your mind back thirty-five odd years ago. See if you can remember a small little fair-haired girl, named Rachel Crow? She was my sister, you evil bugger of a witch. You, after a prince of England had buggered her, took the life from her, very painfully. Now just guess what I'm about to do with you? Bet you can't, as your perverted imagination is nowhere near as sadistic as mine. I've some very, very evil things lined up for you. Let's make a start, shall we.”
No sound came from her lungs as she tried to scream, eyes gaping, mouth wide open unable to move. Fear seeping through her veins mixing with the sweat and beginning to smell. And that's when the LSD concoction that Douglas had specially devised was satisfyingly injected into her body. She could feel everything that then happened without being able to control one single muscle. The stench that emanated from her befouled body reminded Percy a lot of bilges, and he smiled throughout it all.
“I'll be here taking lumps off of you for a good while Grace, my dear.”
The ragged, naked fifty-three year old, Lady Grace Montague of Monmouth, her once sparkling green eyes now shrouded in tears of pain, lay in a knotted heap on the stone floor being butchered alive without a wince of physical agony. With every slicing cut that Percy inflicted he saw Rachel and his own guilt dripping away; plagued with the need for retribution. She took a long time to die.
Chapter Thirty-Five: The Others
“What was she like, Harry?”
“Who, Seri?”
“The girl you lost your heart to, H?”
There were ten days to go until George said the 'I do' that married him to his sweetheart Sophie in the chapel on the Harrogate estate that had seen funerals, christenings and marriages alike, but never seen anyone as loyal to me as George had been. It was to be an honour to serve as his best man.
The final items of the new wardrobe that Serena had selected for the new me had all arrived, been unpacked, ironed and hung away. I was staring at the morning suit, as we spoke, hanging at the end of my dressing room, as was the linen collection she had chosen for the forthcoming holiday we had told no one about. Not only was my style of dress to change, so was my life. What I'd discovered about the seediness surrounding Percy Crow, that I'd never conceived to be possible, had affected me badly and although I was acutely aware of the sombre mood I was in, I was finding it hard to alter, no matter where my mind wandered in search of relief. Serena had noticed this, but being oblivious to the facts, she believe my melancholy was due to someone else. I tried to lift my state of mind.
“She was pretty, not as beautiful as you, few are, I guess, but pretty and captivating, yes. Highly intelligent and engaging otherwise she wouldn't have lasted long in my mind. She had a very similar sense of humour as you do and was equally sarcastic, if not more so, Seri. I not sure that I loved her, perhaps fascinated would be more correct term. But that's with hindsight! At the time, if she'd suggested marriage, which at the very end she said she was about to, then,” I didn't finish that sentence as I had no idea what to say.
“Marriage frightens you, Harry, doesn't it?”
“Love does, Seri. It gave me nightmares that went on and on. While I'm on the subject of nightmares, you've shown little emotion about your late father since returning to England.”
“Was my father a nightmare to you, H?”
“No, far from it! I just thought his death may have given you some bad dreams now you're the last living Abenazo, Seri.”
“Being last is misery in itself that needs no explanation that dreams can provide, H. Of course I miss him, but you once told me that there's no point in wanting what you can't have. I can't bring him back to life, Harry, so I'll just get on with the living. Now I have you in my life and that's all I want, but I'm frightened you're still living in your past with that girl? How can you be sure it wasn't love she was about to offer, when you've admitted that you've never experienced that before? I know I love you, Harry, because I know what love is. Your problem is acknowledging that, and then accepting it. I don't want to live in your past. I want to live all my life with you in the present.”
“And so you will, Seri,” I said, as I pulled her naked body closer, but she wouldn't let it go.
“What was her name, Harry?” staring up at me as if she was a helpless child, she asked.
“Judith Meadows,” sullenly I replied.
“Are there any small meadows hiding behind the Patersons' oak trees, H, that you haven't shown me?”
“None at all,” cheerfully I replied, as the exposed fragility deserted me.
“Do you know something, Harry, no matter how well you think know someone, there'll always be something about them that you just don't get.” I was left wondering who that was said about as neither of us were left wanting for anything that night.
* * *
Percy was setting out his incendiary and explosive charges when Paul O'Leary, the conduit through which passed the information that had so embarrassed Toby Macalister, knocked at the front door. Nobody would have suspected that this tall, fair-haired, well built, handsome man would have trouble in satisfying any young man's curiosity into the opposite sex that required regular visits to such a hovel of iniquity. However, impressions can be and often are misleading.
Whether it was the revolver, or the plastic head to toe covering, that frightened him the most we will never know, nor will there be answers into his sexual shortcomings as Percy held no inquiries or discussions along those lines, as another syringe was emptied. He was there to be tortured, mercilessly, in order to find the spy planted in the research laboratory over in Tennessee, as Meredith had so eloquently put it. When his ankles and hands were strapped together behind his back, Percy ran another strap from O'Leary's neck to a door handle. He'd witnessed a Gestapo officer use the same method at Waggum, when he'd first arrived in Germany. Each time the door was opened so the victim's throat was wrenched back and choked. The movement of the door saved the torturers any energetic effort that could be put to better use. Percy didn't stop there. Whilst Paul was sedated Percy removed the left eye, watched by the conscious but paralysed remains of Grace, propped up against the opposite wall in the emptied out sitting room.
Kill the four of them in whatever manner you want, but only finish the Irishman when he's told you everything, and you believe him, Percy. You will have to be relentless with him.
“I can't see anything out of my left eye!” O'Leary declared in pain as the anaesthetic wore off.
“That's cos you ain't got one. You might lose the other one soon, if you're unlucky.” Percy calmly answered, whilst sawing off Grace's one remaining arm at the elbow. The stench of fear blends well with blood, neither overpowering the other. Some would say that it's impossible to smell fear, only what fear does to the human body; the byproducts of fear, not the emotion itself. Blood, on the other hand, if you have a hand that is, unlike Grace who'd lost both, smells stronger the longer it has left the body. The smothering pungency of the sweet metallic scent was suffocating but nobody complained; two couldn't and Percy loved it. His brand of torture and amputation went on for another hour, until the arrival of Georgina and Wilson. Then it got worse.
* * *
“How did you escape from Russia, Percy?” Charlie had asked when the two met at the ferry terminal in Dublin harbour the night before the sky lit up over Grange Manor, adding, “I've missed you dreadfully.”
“In the bilges of a boat as far as Hamburg, then I stowed away on a freighter heading for England, Charlie. I kept telling m
yself that I'd never die, cos I was Percy Crow and I had someone waiting for me. 'Percy,' I'd say, 'what would Charlie do without you? I gotta keep going, for him.' And I did, Charlie. Arrived in some docks in Silvertown, London early last Wednesday morning. Hid for a while until I found a couple of lockers that had some money in them, made that phone call to your embassy, coming straight over to meet you here.”
“I set sail for Ireland from somewhere near there, Percy. So many years ago I'm too ashamed to say. Must be fate, us two, got so much in common. I bet you smelled a bit, Pingo,” Charlie said, smiling.
“Not as nice as you do, that's for sure.”
“I love you, Pingo Crow!”
“I love you too, you twit,” Percy replied.
“What happened to Oliver Somerset and his wife and two kids, Charlie?” Then, almost forgetting to ask, Percy added, “are they alive?”
“I done them all. The old man died of a heart attack, watching me hack his son to death with an axe. Kept the woman and daughter for a few years, before I forced some kids I'd gotten hold of to hack the wife to death. She screamed, Percy, like a demented cat being skinned alive. I took her head off. The girl died in a house I'd rented her out to. But it was painful I can assure you. Buried them all in a cemetery behind the house in Cork. I would have done the Montagues but never had your skill with bombs. Too many holes to dig and nowhere to bury the bodies. I'm in well with the IRA. I was going to get them to skin him. What you going do about his Lordship? If you're going after him, watch out he don't still keep dogs. The two I last saw were quicker than any artificial rabbit running round a dog track.”
Drogheda was next stop on the journey of Percy's revenge trail, before heading north and his meeting with Charlie's Republican Army friends.