Mariah Mundi and the Ghost Diamonds

by G. P. Taylor

  Grendel dived for the handle to lift the flap just as the sound

  of the sliding bolt screeched loudly as inside Sacha locked the two doors.

  ‘Quickly, Grimm, get me something to open the doors,’ Grendel said as he pulled on the handle in vain.

  Grimm looked up and, seeing the block and tackle dangling above, untied the rope and let it fall. It crashed onto the doors missing Grendel’s head by an inch as it rushed past him.

  ‘Could have killed me,’ Grendel shouted as the dogs barked and the soldiers ran down the stairs.

  Grimm slipped the hook through the door ring and began to pull on the rope. Soon the soldiers and Grendel took hold. The rope quickly tightened in the pulley and the doors to the cellar buckled against the thin bolt.

  Sacha and Mariah stared at each other.

  ‘This must be the place my father told me about, there must be a tunnel – if only we could find it,’ Sacha said as the doors above her head began to splinter and Grendel’s screams grew louder.

  Mariah took the phosphor torch from his pocket and unscrewed the cap. There were three pieces of white, salt-like lumps that he knew when placed in the chamber would give light. Taking one small piece he put it into the lamp and screwed on the lens.

  ‘It has to be somewhere nearby,’ she said as she held out her arms and the light from the torch burst on her face.

  The cellar went on into the distance and faded into black as the vaulted roof arched above their heads. The walls dripped with damp that formed rivulets of green fungus hanging down in long beards.

  Grimm and Grendel shouted for them to stop as they battled against the doors. By now, someone was hammering against the wood with an axe, and splinters fell into the cellar. Ahead of Mariah was a stone wall. He shone the torch. There

  in the corner he noticed a small alcove. It was made of the same stone but in the beam of the light looked different. A draught of air wafted a long cobweb that blew like a tantalising finger.

  ‘That has to be it,’ he said as the axe crashed through the door and Grendel’s face appeared above them.

  ‘Mariah Mundi – it is you,’ said the detective as he stared at him upside-down through bloodshot eyes. ‘And his lovely sweetheart – how quaint.’

  ‘Get back, Grendel – I’ll shoot,’ Mariah shouted as he aimed the pistol and shone the lamp in Grendel’s face.

  ‘So brave – so talented – so stupid,’ Grendel said as he tried to force his head through the hole and the barking of the dogs grew louder.

  Mariah didn’t hesitate. He aimed the gun, closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger. Grendel screamed as he pulled his head back, knowing what was to come. The blast echoed through the guard house as the bullet exploded from the gun. Grendel slumped back on the tiled floor, holding his face.

  ‘My nose, my astonishing nose!’ he shouted as he held his face. ‘Monkey boy has shot me.’

  Grimm pulled Grendel’s hand away. The bullet had taken the tip of Grendel’s nose from his face.

  ‘Get Packavi, Mr Grimm,’ Grendel cried as he got to his feet and mopped his face with his handkerchief. ‘Send in the dogs and the madman. Mundi has three bullets left – one for each of them and then we’ll have him and I shall have my pound of flesh.’

  ‘The madman and the dogs!’ Sacha said as they ran towards the alcove.

  ‘Don’t worry, Sacha. There will be a way out of this,’ Mariah said hoping she would believe his foolish words.

  Once in the alcove, they found the entrance to the tunnel. It had been clumsily built into the wall and fell quickly away

  as it ran down to the town. Mariah shone the torch ahead of them. The dangling cobwebs formed dark shadows on the walls like a crowd of onlookers moving back and forth in the murk.

  Sacha coughed on the choking fumes. ‘What is that?’ she asked.

  ‘Firedamp,’ Mariah replied. ‘It’s a gas, we can’t stay here – too dangerous, it could explode.’

  Even in the tunnel were the traces of the haar mist. It seeped through the drains above and crept through the narrow fissures between the large stones that formed the walls. The mist filled the bottom of the tunnel so that it looked as if they walked through clouds. It swirled about them, forming ghostly hands that reached up in the fading light of the phosphor torch. They slipped on the wet stones as they walked, their feet crunching on broken bones and the carcasses of dead rats.

  It was only at the edges of the torchlight, just where the shadow met the brightness, that Sacha could see them. From every crack in the wall, every crevice and fracture, Sacha noticed tiny pink and red eyes staring at her. They glared as she walked by and they sniffed the air. The noise of scurrying and scratching echoed in the darkness. The higher up the wall, the bigger they seemed to be, and the deeper they walked into the tunnel more and more appeared – rats!

  At first Sacha didn’t want to admit they were there. Her father forbade her to say their name for fear that misfortune would fall upon them. If one came into their house they would salt the walls and pour vinegar on the floor and ask St Anthony to rid them of it. Every boat in the harbour was the same and no captain would put to sea if one were seen.

  Sacha had been told a story that once, long ago, when her father was young, a boat had entered the harbour with a cargo of masts for the shipyard. In its hold there had been a plague of rats. In the dark of the night the hordes had jumped for the shore and swam in the tide.

  At night they attacked the grain store and ate the salt fish, and worst of all they bit the children. From All Angels to All Souls time they had cursed the town. The bailiffs had called for a wanderer to banish the plague. He had come with his burning cross, shaken his bag of bones and chanted from the castle cliff. The rats turned and ran into the sea. Like a seething carpet, they drowned in the waves and took with them their pestilence and even the mention of their true name. Never were rats to be talked of in the town at the end of the line.

  ‘Long-tails,’ Sacha said reluctantly as more and more of the creatures began to run about her feet. ‘Long-tails.’

  ‘Rats, Sacha. Nothing to be afraid of,’ Mariah replied as his words echoed through the tunnel.

  From far behind they heard the commotion as the doors to the cellar were ripped from their hinges and the barking of the dogs grew nearer.

  ‘Run!’ Mariah said as they were set in the chase.

  ‘They’ll soon catch us – we can’t outrun them,’ Sacha replied.

  ‘Then let them eat bread,’ said Mariah, and he took the bag of hex from his pocket and scattered its explosive contents on the floor and down the stone walls.

  ‘What is it?’ Sacha asked as the rats fought one another hungrily.

  ‘Hexogenamite – the explosive that killed the general,’ he explained. ‘When they eat it they will explode and we don’t want to be here when they do.’

  Together they set off running down the tunnel. The haar grew thicker and the phosphorus lamp weaker. It became just a dull glow that could hardly cast a shadow in the mist. Soon they had snaked their way deeper and could hear the sound of the sea. They spoke a little as they ran, Mariah telling Sacha of all that had happened at the Prince Regent. He coughed out the words whenever they stopped to look back.

  Suddenly, the barking of the dogs as they gave chase went deathly still, as if the dogs had found something. Then it came: a sudden, low rumble and a flash of bright light as if it thundered above them. The tunnel began to tremor and roar. Coming towards them was an immense black, burning cloud of gas. Roaring and snarling as it gathered pace and scorched the damp from the walls, it turned into a vast, all-consuming ball of fire …

  [ 16 ]

  Ghosts

  MARIAH pushed Sacha to the floor of the tunnel. ‘Cover your face!’ he shouted as the roar came closer and all around them the methane gas began to explode. ‘Wait until it is past.’

  There came a sudden rush of air as the fire sucked its life from the tunnel below. It was as if they were in th
e centre of a whirlwind. The fire-flash cracked above their heads like a thunderstorm as it blew away the mist. Sacha buried her face in Mariah’s coat and covered her ears. The light was intense and as hot as the sun, burning the back of her hands. Then there was silence, a long and lasting silence. It was eerie and still, with not a single sound.

  The phosphor torch rolled back and forth on the floor of the tunnel where Mariah had let it fall. Their shadows were cast against the roof of the tunnel and moved from side to side. They lay together, knowing they had to wait.

  Mariah looked back to where they had just come from. It was obvious that the rats had exploded and ignited the gas built up in the tunnel. He knew that if Grendel had been near then he would surely be dead. Nothing could have survived the blast.

  As he was about to tell Sacha his thoughts, he heard the first sound. Beginning like a whimper, it turned into the lament of a hound crying at the full moon. Then came marching steps in time with the ticking of a clock. Heavy footsteps edged in steel beat solidly against the stone slabs. The click of a cane hit the middle beat between the footsteps as someone strode confidently towards them through the darkness.

  Mariah shone the faint beam of the torch up the tunnel as he wondered who had survived the explosion.

  ‘We can’t stay,’ Sacha said as she began to run.

  Mariah followed and, taking one last glance behind, saw a dark figure coming towards him.

  ‘Packavi,’ he said as he heard the drawing of the swordstick. ‘Run, Sacha, run!’

  They bolted headlong down the slope. Behind them the footsteps came on just as before. They neither quickened nor slowed, marching at the same steady pace, but strangely never seemed to get further away.

  The tunnel curved. Mariah and Sacha were halted by a fall of rock. They climbed over the stones, Mariah pushing out several large blocks so they could get through. The footsteps came nearer and were now joined by the whimpering of a large dog that sounded as if it were being held back from the chase. Packavi had no light, but walked as if he could see in the dark.

  On the other side of the rock fall, Mariah and Sacha ran on. When they had gone half a mile the tunnel narrowed so that they could not walk side by side. Mariah went ahead, using the dim phosphor torch to light his footsteps.

  It was then that the tunnel stopped. Several thick metal bars formed a gate that appeared to be embedded in the ground.

  ‘What do we do now?’ Sacha asked as the sound of Packavi’s footsteps drew even closer.

  Mariah tried to lift the gate. It moved several inches and then slipped back.

  ‘Here,’ he said handing Sacha the torch. ‘Cover the lens until I tell you and then shine it up the tunnel – I have one last surprise for Packavi.’

  Sacha was about to do what he asked when she shone the torch through the gate. There, on the other side, was a long handle that came from the wall.

  ‘That’s it,’ she said as her eyes lit up. ‘That must be what controls the gate.’

  Mariah pushed his arm through the bars, trying to reach the handle. His fingers could just touch the metal but he couldn’t take hold.

  All the while, the footsteps behind them trudged ever closer. Mariah pushed harder against the bars. His fingers stretched out. Taking the gun, he hooked its grip over the handle and began to pull as hard as he could. The handle began to move slowly and as it did so the gate lifted up inch by inch.

  ‘Help me Sacha,’ Mariah said as his hand stretched from the pistol.

  There was a sudden lurch of the bars that snapped his grip on the gun. It fell to the floor on the other side of the gate. The pistol slid down the short slope and into the gutter, out of reach of Mariah’s outstretched hand.

  From out of the darkness they could hear the clatter of Packavi’s footsteps. They came closer step by step.

  ‘He’s almost with us!’ Sacha screamed as Mariah fought to push the gate higher.

  ‘Get underneath,’ Mariah said as he pulled on the gate and lifted it several more inches from the ground.

  Sacha slid on to the floor and squeezed herself under the sharpened bars. With one hand she grabbed the pistol. She pushed as hard as she could to get through and as she did so she

  shone the torch back into the darkness. There, standing quite still and watching quietly, was Packavi. At his feet was a large snarling dog.

  ‘Behind you!’ she screamed at Mariah, who turned to face the killer.

  ‘Never thought it would end like this, not in such a squalid place,’ Packavi said as he let go of the leash that held the dog close to him. ‘You killed the other beast with your little trick – very clever, Mariah Mundi, the great detective and agent of the Bureau of Antiquities.’

  ‘Why do so many have to die, Packavi?’ Mariah asked as he pressed himself against the bars of the gate and slipped his hand back towards Sacha.

  ‘You would never understand – your sort seldom do. It has more to do with the construction of the universe than just wasted lives. The Prince Regent is the sectio aurea, built to a golden principle. You, Mariah, stand in our way –’

  ‘Our way?’ Mariah asked as he took hold of the pistol from Sacha’s hand.

  ‘I don’t act alone – but that would be telling you both too much, for even in death you could still tell tales.’

  ‘But the Prince Regent is just a hotel – why should it make you want to kill?’ Mariah asked quickly as he held the gun behind his back and gently cocked the trigger.

  ‘It is built on a grand design, to the principle of Fibonacci, by a great architect. You would not understand its significance. It is only when you take to the air and see it as a bird that its power can be understood.’

  Packavi twisted the swordstick in his hand as if he made ready to strike.

  ‘You’re mad – and dead!’ Mariah screamed as he pulled the gun from behind him and fired shots through Packavi’s black coat and crisp white shirt.

  There were three dull thuds. Mariah watched as Packavi fell backwards, the mask slipping from his face. The snarling dog at his side cowered away. Packavi staggered to one side, gripping his chest. He turned to Mariah, who stood motionless, wondering what he had done to the man.

  ‘I knew you wouldn’t shoot me in the head,’ Packavi said as he picked the bullets one by one from his chest. ‘And I am thankful for my metal jacket.’

  As Packavi spoke he pulled open his shirt. There, like the skin of a bronzed statue, was a contoured breastplate of metal. Around the heart were three small indentions where the bullets had struck.

  ‘Now it is your turn,’ Packavi said as he stood upright, twisted the handle on his swordstick and stepped forward.

  Without warning, he lunged at Mariah with the sword. The blade glanced against his sleeve and through the bars of the gate. Mariah stared eye to eye with the man. He could feel his breath against his face. Sacha pulled the handle of the gate, which suddenly and with great force was catapulted into the roof. She pushed Packavi back and grabbed Mariah. He fell backwards through the opening as she slammed the handle as hard as she could. The blade came again and again as the gate fell, snapping it from Packavi’s hand. From out of the darkness the dog leapt towards Mariah. It forced its head through the gap between the bars and took hold of his arm. It twisted and turned, pulling at the fabric of his coat with its jagged teeth.

  Packavi picked himself from the floor and laughed.

  ‘Thought you’d get away?’ he asked as he took the broken blade from the floor and examined it closely. ‘Still enough to finish you, Mariah Mundi,’ he said as he looked at him.

  The dog held fast, pulling Mariah through the bars as it growled. Sacha struggled to hold on to Mariah. All she wanted was to pull him away from Packavi.

  In the twilight of the phosphorus torch, Packavi sharpened the broken tip of the sword against the stones. Seeing what was to come, Sacha reached into Mariah’s pocket and took a broken corner of hexagenamite and thrust it into the dog’s mouth. It coughed momentarily and sho
ok its head, then let go of Mariah’s arm.

  Packavi screamed. ‘No! You will not escape!’ he shouted as he thrust the sword at Mariah.

  Sacha pulled Mariah from the gate, forcing him to the ground as the broken sword came towards her face. She grabbed Packavi by the wrist and held him fast as she kicked out at the handle of the gate.

  Above them they heard the quick spinning of the winch and the turning of the gears as the counterbalance dropped. The gate shot to the ceiling, lifting Packavi from his feet and pinning his arm against the ceiling. He dangled like a marionette above them. Packavi was trapped, pinioned by the metal bars to the ceiling above.

  ‘Don’t think I won’t get free!’ he screamed as the dog began to choke.

  The beast growled, foaming at the mouth. It shook its head from side to side as if to free itself from the invisible grip of the hexagenamite. Slowly the dog began to expand before their eyes as if it were filling with gas. It howled as it bolted into the darkness, and when it had gone just a few feet it exploded. There was a shower of silver dust as the animal evaporated.

  Packavi dangled above them, pinned by his arm to the ceiling of the tunnel, his feet inches from the floor. Sacha shone the torch in his face.

  ‘You are so lucky, Mariah Mundi,’ he said. ‘It will have to end soon.’

  Mariah and Sacha looked up. In the torchlight they could see that the mask had been pushed to one side. The face

  beneath was hideous and grotesque, a caricature of a human form. It was etched in gilt, every line of the man’s age lined in metal on the skin.

  Hanging at Packavi’s side was his arm. Mariah looked at the gloved hand and saw that the wrist shone in pure gold.

  ‘I’ve seen this before,’ he said to Sacha as he pulled the glove from Packavi’s fingers.

  There beneath was a hand made of solid gold. Its fingers were gripped like a fist, as if they had been formed purposely around the handle of the sword.

  ‘Just like the tip of your finger,’ Packavi moaned. ‘It is not only Mariah Mundi who was caught with his hand in the Midas Box.’