Very Important Corpses

by Simon R. Green

  ‘Then why doesn’t Jennifer have a mark on her?’ said Penny. ‘Or are you saying she was frightened to death?’

  ‘No,’ said the Major Domo. ‘I’m not saying that.’

  ‘Has anyone with medical training had a look at the body?’ I said. ‘Do we know the exact cause of death?’

  ‘There are no doctors here,’ said the Major Domo. ‘You’ll understand I couldn’t do anything that would attract the attention of the local authorities; the principals were very firm on that. Once it was down here, I examined the body as best I could. And I did find something unusual. Something … disturbing.’

  ‘No teeth or claw marks, but you still favour an animal attack?’ I said. ‘All right, I’ll bite. What did you find?’

  ‘Two puncture wounds,’ said the Major Domo. ‘On the back of the neck, at the base of the skull.’

  Penny and I looked at each other. Neither of us said the word ‘vampire’, but we were both thinking it very loudly. I took hold of Jennifer’s shoulders and tried to sit her up, but she wouldn’t bend at the middle. Rigor mortis had set in. I placed one hand on her thigh, took a firmer hold, and tried again. Loud cracking sounds filled the air as I sat Jennifer up in a series of jerks. A low moaning issued from her unmoving lips. Penny looked at me sharply.

  ‘Just gas that’s built up in the body,’ I said. ‘Nothing to worry about.’

  ‘I’m not worried,’ Penny said loudly.

  The Major Domo said nothing. I bent Jennifer forward some more, and looked closely at the back of her neck.

  No sign of the savage teeth marks I’d expected, nothing to indicate a vampire’s attack. Instead there were two deep puncture wounds with a little dried blood crusted around the entrance holes, each wound big enough to stick a finger in. I gestured for Penny to move forward and take a look. She leaned in close while I held the body still, and then looked at me and shook her head briefly. Confirming what I already knew: this wasn’t a vampire. I looked at the Major Domo.

  ‘Any sign of heavy blood loss anywhere around the body?’

  ‘No,’ said the Major Domo. ‘Just a little blood on her pillow. But … look for yourself.’

  She produced a penlight from her pocket and carefully shone it into one of the wounds. I leaned in close, and saw something I really wasn’t expecting.

  ‘OK …’ I said. ‘This is weird. Her head is empty.’

  ‘What?’ said Penny. ‘What do you mean by “empty”?’ She tried to crowd in beside me, but I was still peering down the entrance wound.

  ‘I mean, her brain is missing,’ I said. ‘All of it. As though it’s been removed … sucked out through these holes.’

  ‘You can see that?’ said the Major Domo. ‘I suspected, but …’

  ‘I eat a lot of carrots,’ I said.

  ‘The ancient Egyptians used to remove the brain when they made a mummy,’ said Penny, in a blatant attempt to distract the Major Domo. ‘They hooked it out through the nose.’

  ‘That was after death,’ I said. ‘I’m pretty sure this was done while Jennifer was still alive. This is what killed her.’

  ‘What on earth could do that?’ said the Major Domo.

  She looked at me for an answer. So did Penny. And then both of them looked distinctly unsettled, as they realized I was considering the possibilities.

  ‘Have you ever encountered something that could do this?’ Penny said carefully. ‘Have you seen wounds like this before?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘But I have heard things. There is a Mexican legend of something called a Brainiac. A creature with a long fleshy proboscis that it sticks up people’s noses to suck out their brains.’

  ‘You made that up!’ said Penny. She paused. ‘You’re not making that up? Really? Oh, ick …’

  ‘We are not in Mexico,’ said the Major Domo.

  ‘I had noticed,’ I said.

  I stuck my index finger into one of the holes, just to see if it would fit. And then I froze, as I realized I couldn’t pull it back out again. It was stuck. I tugged at it surreptitiously, but the finger wouldn’t budge. I smiled meaninglessly at Penny and the Major Domo, put one hand on the back of Jennifer’s head, and pulled hard. And my finger jumped out with a soft sucking sound. Penny shook her head slowly, and the Major Domo looked at me as though I’d just confirmed her worst suspicions. I wiped my hand on the back of my trousers. Not every idea I have is a winner.

  ‘Is there anything else you want to know about the state of the body?’ the Major Domo asked coldly.

  ‘Not for the moment,’ I said.

  I tried to lay Jennifer down flat again, but she’d stuck in the upright position. I put one hand on her thigh and the other on her throat, and pushed hard. There was the sound of something important breaking inside her, and she lay down again. Penny gave me a long-suffering look. The Major Domo looked like she wanted to say a great many things, but didn’t. I took a moment to get my breath back. Wrestling with corpses is hard work.

  ‘What happened to Jennifer’s notes?’ I said. ‘She might have been killed because of something she discovered, or because the killer thought she knew something.’

  ‘You still think a person could have done this?’ said the Major Domo.

  ‘I’m not ruling out anything at this stage,’ I said. ‘Did you find her notes?’

  ‘We have been unable to find Miss Rifkin’s laptop,’ said the Major Domo. ‘It’s always possible it was destroyed along with her room’s furnishings and fittings.’

  Or the room was wrecked to disguise the fact that the laptop had been taken, I thought, but didn’t say.

  ‘I need to see Jennifer’s room,’ I said to the Major Domo.

  She nodded stiffly, strode over to the freezer door, pulled it open with both hands, and stepped quickly out into the kitchen. She was breathing a little more deeply, probably to settle her nerves, but on the whole I thought she’d coped very well under the circumstances. Most people get really spooked around bodies. Of course, her lack of reaction could be significant in itself. Some might even say suspicious. Something to think about, later.

  Penny moved in close beside me, and lowered her voice. ‘I have heard stories about aliens who take bits of people. Like in cattle mutilations.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’ve heard those stories too.’

  ‘Well? Is there any truth to them?’

  ‘Not as far as I know,’ I said. ‘And anyway, what would aliens have to do with the Baphomet Group? No … this was a very loud kind of murder. Designed to draw attention to itself and distract us from something else.’

  ‘Like what?’ said Penny.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I’m distracted.’

  Penny hugged herself tightly and shuddered. ‘Can we please get the hell out of this icebox? I’m freezing my tits off. And I keep expecting Madame Major Domo to slam the door shut and padlock us in here.’

  I had to smile. ‘She does seem the type, doesn’t she? All right, let’s go.’ I nodded to Jennifer Rifkin, lying on her table surrounded by piled-up provisions, with her brain stolen. Not much grace in death, and even less dignity. ‘Rest easy, Jennifer. I will find out who did this to you.’

  ‘Of course you will,’ said Penny.

  We walked out of the freezer, carefully not hurrying. The hot and heavy air of the kitchen was a relief after the bitter cold. The Major Domo went to slam the door shut, but Penny stopped her.

  ‘Could we leave the light on? I don’t like to think of her lying there alone in the dark.’

  ‘She’s dead, Penny,’ I said. ‘She doesn’t care.’

  Penny shot me one of her looks that meant I’d missed some human thing. The Major Domo cleared her throat.

  ‘I’m sorry, Miss Belcourt. The light goes on and off automatically, as the door opens and closes. There’s nothing I can do.’

  She forced the heavy door shut, padlocked it, tugged at the lock a few times just to be sure, and then turned away. The two cooks and the kitchen staff watched all
this carefully, but were quick to concentrate on their work the moment the Major Domo glared in their direction.

  ‘I need to talk to the principals,’ I said.

  ‘But Miss Rifkin’s room …’

  ‘Can wait,’ I said.

  ‘The principals are in a meeting,’ said the Major Domo, ‘and not to be disturbed.’

  ‘Tough,’ I said. ‘I want to see them. And disturb them, if necessary.’

  The Major Domo looked like she wanted to argue. But didn’t.

  ‘Who are the principals, anyway?’ said Penny.

  The Major Domo gave me a reproachful look as she led the way out of the kitchen, and didn’t start talking until we were well clear of the kitchen staff. ‘Twelve in total, and all of them very important people. Don’t expect them to tell you their real names. As long as they’re here they’ll only answer to their traditional cover identities – January to December.’ She smiled, briefly. ‘And good luck getting one word out of them that they don’t want to part with.’

  ‘Not to worry,’ I said. ‘I can be very persuasive.’

  ‘It’s true, he can,’ said Penny. ‘Really. Like you wouldn’t believe.’

  The Major Domo led us back through the House, resisting all attempts by Penny to open a conversation, until we finally ended up before a closed door guarded by a dozen armed men. Hard-eyed types, with neat suits whose jackets had been expertly tailored to allow extra room for shoulder holsters. They all looked like they could take care of themselves, and whoever paid their wages. The kind of men who were ready to take a bullet, but would much rather someone else did it first. Twelve guards, one for each of the principals. They were all very professional: keeping their distance from each other while still carefully maintaining clear lines of sight, so no one could approach the principals without being seen and challenged.

  They nodded to the Major Domo as she approached, while keeping their attention fixed firmly on me. I nodded briefly to the guards, and headed for the closed door. They immediately closed ranks, placing themselves bodily between me and the door. Several of them drew their guns. The Major Domo fell back a few steps, looking at me in a ‘Told you so!’ sort of way. I considered the guards thoughtfully, and Penny looked at me in a resigned sort of way.

  ‘Try not to make too much of a mess, darling,’ she said.

  ‘Hello there!’ I said to the guards. ‘What nice guns you have, and excellent reaction times. I’m impressed. Unfortunately for you, I am Ishmael Jones and this is Penny Belcourt. We represent the Organization. So get out of the way like good little soldier boys, before things get unfortunate.’

  ‘Piss off and die!’ said the nearest guard.

  ‘Oh dear …’ said Penny.

  I stepped smartly forward and slapped the gun right out of the guard’s hand. And while he was standing there with his mouth hanging open, wondering what the hell had just happened, I kneed him briskly in the groin and elbowed him on the back of his neck as he bent over. Before the other guards could react I was in and among them, grabbing guns out of their hands and throwing them away. Bouncing a few off the nearest wall, when necessary. A few managed to point their guns at me, but none of them got off a single shot.

  It was all over in a matter of moments. I stepped back and glanced around to make sure I hadn’t missed anyone, while Penny applauded loudly. The guards stared at me with shocked eyes; bewildered at how easily I’d just disarmed them. The guard on the floor was still curled around his pain, crying his eyes out. I looked down at him dispassionately.

  ‘Shouldn’t have been rude to me.’ I smiled around at the other guards. ‘You could of course try to defend the door with your bare hands. After all, there are eleven of you and only one of me. I suppose it is theoretically possible that one of you might get a lucky punch in … before I make a hole in the wall with him.’

  The guards looked at each other, and then looked at the Major Domo.

  ‘Don’t look at me,’ she said. ‘He told you he was Organization.’

  The guards moved away from the door. There was a certain amount of sulkiness on the air, along with a general sense of ‘We’re not being paid enough to deal with this shit!’.

  I smiled at the Major Domo. ‘Keep an eye on them. Because if I come back out and find one gun pointing in my general direction, you’re going to have to redecorate this whole corridor.’

  Some of the guards backed away even more. And while I was busy watching them do that, the guard I’d hit lurched back up on to his feet and directed a punch at my face with all his strength. But my hand came up at the last moment to intercept his. There was a loud meaty smack as his fist slammed into my open palm and stopped dead. My hand didn’t budge an inch and the guard fell back, crying out, as the impact reverberated back through his arm until it hung limply at his side, paralysed. I shook my head at him reproachfully, and he sat down hard on the floor and started crying again. They don’t make guards like they used to. I couldn’t resist glancing at the Major Domo. To my surprise she was smiling, just a little. Penny was grinning broadly. I nodded to her.

  ‘Ready to go see the principals?’

  She laughed happily. ‘Are they ready to see us?’

  ‘Probably not,’ I said. ‘But then, who is?’

  I put my sunglasses back on, kicked the door open, and marched into the Baphomet Group meeting with Penny striding grandly along beside me. The dozen men and women sitting around the large round table were waiting for us, with cold composed expressions. Presumably because they’d been listening to everything that had just happened. Between them they were all ages and races; and they had the air of aristocrats at Court, or even Knights of the Round Table. But that was only in their minds. My first thought was that they all looked like accountants: respectable people in respectable outfits, and the kind of faces you forget the moment they’re not right in front of you. They looked coldly back at me, ignoring Penny; not even bothering to hide their annoyance that anyone would dare interrupt their very important meeting. I started to announce myself, but the oldest man at the table raised an imperative hand to cut me off. There was enough natural authority in him to silence anyone; apart from me. But I’d been told tact and diplomacy, so …

  The man looked to be in his late seventies, with gaunt, harsh features and carefully arranged silver-grey hair. He was almost unhealthily slim, and his hands trembled on the table top before him. He cleared his throat carefully before he spoke, not because he was nervous but because he wanted to be sure he would be understood clearly. For a moment I wondered whether dust would come out of his mouth along with his words, like a mummy disturbed in its sarcophagus.

  ‘I am December. As the oldest member of the present Group, I have seniority. I think I can speak on behalf of all of us …’ He paused there, and actually looked round the table to make sure he had a consensus before continuing. ‘… when I say that you are not at all welcome. There is no need to introduce yourself, Mister Jones. We were told you were on your way. Probably before you were. Your presence here may be necessary, but your impertinence is not. You will show proper respect for this venerable Group, or we will have you replaced.’

  I waited politely, to be sure he’d finished, and then gave him my best ‘Screw you!’ smile.

  ‘Not going to happen,’ I said calmly. ‘I represent the Organization. Which is older and more venerable than all of you put together. If this entire Group dropped dead right now, the world would still keep turning until you could be replaced by your successors. The Organization would see to that.’

  I was pretty sure I was bluffing; but they didn’t know that. Because they had no more idea about who and what the Organization was than I did.

  December cleared his throat again. He seemed a little thrown that his speech hadn’t had the expected effect, and completely thrown as to what to do next.

  ‘What do you want with us, Mister Jones?’

  ‘To start with, indulge my curiosity. Why are you named after months of the year?’


  December sniffed loudly, as though explaining such obvious matters was beneath him. ‘In the past, principals of the Baphomet Group adopted identities from the signs of the zodiac. But that was in a more colourful era. In these more businesslike times, we prefer something a little less dramatic. We come and go, but the identities continue. It helps prevent personalities from getting in the way of doing business.’

  ‘We don’t need to explain ourselves to you,’ snapped the elderly lady sitting on December’s left. A tiny, delicate creature with a dark heavily wrinkled face, a tight bun of grey hair, and a glare that could punch through walls. ‘I am November. And I say this interruption is a waste of our time.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ said December, in his slow unhurried voice. ‘Consider, if these people can get to us past all our guards … they are exactly the kind of people we need in charge of our security.’

  There was a slow nodding of heads around the table. I half expected some of them to murmur ‘Hear, hear!’. December raised his dry voice and called for the security guards in the corridor to come in. They filed into the room uncertainly, shuffling their feet and avoiding looking the principals in the eye. I counted only eleven; the one I’d had to discipline was probably still having a good cry somewhere. November scowled at the guards and shook her head disgustedly.

  ‘Where are your guns?’

  The guards looked at each other sullenly, like children hauled before a teacher. One of them gestured reluctantly at me.

  ‘He took them away …’

  ‘Then I suggest you go and find them,’ December said sharply. ‘And try to hang on to them. No, don’t leave yet. The Group hereby confirms that Mister Jones is in complete charge of all security matters pertaining to Coronach House. With full responsibility for guaranteeing our safety. And I don’t want to hear any objections or excuses. You will cooperate with him on all necessary matters. Is that understood?’

  General mutterings and noddings took place among the guards. For hard, experienced security men, there was a lot of pouting going on.

  ‘I think you passed the audition, Ishmael,’ Penny said solemnly.