Mariah Mundi and the Ghost Diamonds

by G. P. Taylor

  ‘It’s not true.’

  ‘It is and you know it.’

  Just as Mariah was about to reply, the bell sounded at the desk. Mrs Mukluk roused herself from her sleep and could be heard talking. Sacha left the kitchen and minutes later returned clutching a folded piece of paper.

  ‘A telegram,’ she said quietly, ‘and I’m sorry. I have to see my father and warn him what they’re going to do. In three days he’ll be of no use to them and he’ll be found floating at the bottom of the castle cliff.’

  Sacha handed Mariah the telegram and left him alone in the kitchen. She walked into the dining room and sat at a bare table and stared about the room. It seemed desolate, like an empty jungle of parlour palms and mahogany chairs. She tried to imagine it as it had been before, with laughter, music and the screaming of the chef at all the waiters. Sacha’s dream was broken as she heard footsteps on the wooden floor.

  ‘It’s Captain Jack,’ Mariah said as he walked through the door, his eyes searching for one word of hope in the telegram. ‘They’ve refused bail. He’s been remanded to Dean Prison on a charge of murder. He wants to see me.’

  ‘You can’t go,’ she cried out as she stood up and put a hand on the table to steady herself. ‘Walpole will find out that you’re at the prison. Grimm and Grendel will catch you. Mariah, you know too much.’

  ‘But I have to go. Captain Jack wants to see me,’ Mariah replied.

  ‘Then we’ll go together,’ she said quickly.

  ‘You can’t. I go alone. If we were both to be caught then what

  good would that do?’ Mariah insisted. ‘We have to get Jack from prison. I have to prove he didn’t kill those people. It’s all been set up. Walpole said he found explosives in Jack’s office. I think Packavi planted them. Either him or the man I chased from the hotel. Don’t tell your father just yet. He will be safe for three days. And Grimm and Grendel will want to find you. Stay in the hotel. I’ll tell Rhamses, and speak to no one.’ He blurted the words and set off to walk from the room.

  ‘What if they find you?’ Sacha asked.

  ‘Then it’s over, we have lost and we’ll never know what they were going to do,’ Mariah said as he turned to face her. ‘Ask Mrs Mukluk to send a telegram to Isambard Black. You will find the address on a silver card on the desk in Captain Jack’s office. If we fail then he must know what has gone on.’

  ‘What shall I say?’ she asked.

  ‘Tell him …’ Mariah stopped speaking and thought for a while. He looked at Sacha, his eyes saddened by circumstance. ‘Tell him Mariah Mundi is held in the balance – he will know what is meant by that.’

  ‘And if you are caught?’ Sacha asked.

  ‘Then take your father and leave the town. Go to the Claridges Hotel, room 13, and you will find Perfidious Albion – the Bureau will keep you safe.’

  ‘I’m not going to run, Mariah. They can’t force me from my home.’

  ‘They won’t force you to go, Sacha. They will simply kill you. Whatever it is that they are doing is worth more than our lives. Captain Jack said that these people are a power behind the power and that not even the Queen can stand up to them. It isn’t the government that runs the world but these people. They are the sworn enemy of the Bureau of Antiquities and will do whatever is in their power to see us destroyed.’

  ‘So they are the government?’ she asked.

  ‘They are the power behind it – that’s all the Captain would say.’

  Mariah turned to leave. As he reached the door he stopped and looked at Sacha.

  ‘Keep the wind on your back,’ she said as he smiled at her.

  ‘Sacha, I have always wanted to say this but dare not for fear it would burden our friendship … I … I –’ Mariah struggled for the words.

  ‘What?’ she asked.

  Mariah said nothing more. He gave a faint sigh as he lost the courage to say the words. Turning quickly, as he tried to hold the image of her in his mind, he walked into the lobby and towards the door.

  ‘Mr Mariah! Mr Mariah!’ shouted Mrs Mukluk, surprisingly awake.

  Mariah kept on walking, his face set to what he had to do. He pushed open the door and strode down the steps into the cold morning air.

  ‘Going far?’ asked a voice from somewhere nearby.

  Mariah turned. At first he saw no one, but then, almost out of sight behind the tall Corinthian column that held up the portico bearing the name of the Prince Regent, was Lucius Nibelungen. He had changed from the dark suit that he always seemed to wear and was now garbed in a miniature fur coat with a fox’s head for a collar. Lucius smiled at Mariah and tapped his walking stick against the marble steps of the hotel.

  ‘Mister Lucius, I thought you would be with your master,’ Mariah said politely so as not to attract suspicion.

  ‘Master? I have no master. The tail wags the dog, Mariah, the tail wags the dog.’ He grinned as he spoke and for the first time Mariah saw that his mouth was entirely filled with gold teeth capped with ivory.

  ‘Is Mr Zogel well?’ Mariah enquired as he began to walk on.

  ‘He’s sleeping, as he will for most of the day. He is not the world’s best traveller. Are you going far? Perhaps I could walk with you, I could get to know the town.’

  ‘I … I go for supplies,’ Mariah said, hoping to dissuade the dwarf from coming with him.

  ‘Well, let me at least walk you to the end of the street. I think I will go to the castle today. It seems to be such a nice place. Have you ever been?’ Lucius asked inquisitively.

  ‘I prefer Titus Salt’s Aquarium and Pleasure Palace. It has fish of all descriptions and monsters from the deep, Mister Lucius,’ Mariah replied as he walked on with the dwarf following him as quickly as he could. The square outside the hotel was empty. A small horse and carriage was outside Athol House. The driver was nowhere to be seen as the horse pulled against the weight strapped to its bridle.

  ‘Shame all the guests have departed. How can you pay the bills without any customers?’ Lucius asked.

  ‘I charge those left twice as much,’ Mariah replied.

  ‘Will you consider selling the hotel?’ the dwarf asked as he picked a hair from his nose with his tiny fingers.

  ‘Not mine to sell. Captain Charity is the only one who can decide that.’

  ‘Ah, yes. The one whose head is already on the gallows. No bail, I hear, and finally charged with murder. How did he do it, I wonder? And to think they found the explosives in his office. Quite a scoop of evidence.’

  ‘Who told you?’ Mariah asked as he stopped and glared down at Lucius.

  ‘I asked the post boy, he had read your telegram and for a guinea told me what it contained.’

  ‘Why do you need to know my business?’ Mariah asked sharply as he fought the urge to punch the man to the floor. ‘I thought you had brought Zogel here for his health, but –’

  ‘Go on, Mariah. I could ask you the same question but I know you would treat me with a foolish answer. Dedalus Zogel is a man who admires things of beauty. This hotel is the most wondrous creation he has ever seen. Where in the world would you find a vista such as this? He doesn’t have long for this world and for the right person – who treated him kindly – he would allow them to inherit riches beyond the imagination.’

  ‘Life isn’t having what you want, but wanting what you have. Riches matter not. Surely happiness and friendship are above the money in a man’s pocket?’

  ‘The ranting of a crow soaking up the sun, Mariah. One day you will understand the importance of money. Happiness will never end your hunger or put a roof over your head. If you had enough money you could free the man who you were going to see. Think of it. Selling the Prince Regent might be the only way to save your friend from the gallows.’

  ‘You can’t buy justice.’

  ‘Justice?’ Lucius laughed as he spoke. ‘Justice is not blind. It can see the colour of money. Everything in this world has a price, as does every man. Be he a king, a pauper – even a judge. Yo
u can buy them all and the services they sell. Think about it, Mariah. Tell Captain Charity what I have said. A hundred thousand pounds and that is our offer. If he accepts he will be free by the morning. I will take care of all the arrangements.’ Lucius looked about him as he spoke. It was as if he knew he was being watched.

  ‘And what if he says no?’ Mariah asked.

  ‘There are those who will take it by other means. The Prince Regent is highly valued. Do not be surprised if it is stolen from your hands. We will give Charity a fair price – but some may not.’

  ‘Who are they, Mister Lucius? You appear to know so much about this place and have only been here for two nights.’

  ‘Every town is the same the world over. There are those who want to live out their lives and those who feel it is their divine right to interfere. Behind them are the ones with real power – power over life and death and complete in their subterfuge.’

  ‘How can he trust you?’ Mariah asked as they walked across the road and into Bar Street.

  ‘That is where you have to trust me,’ Lucius insisted as he felt the fur of his coat.

  ‘I don’t think a man like Zogel would want to buy this place for its beauty. He could have any hotel in the world,’ Mariah replied as he took shelter from the wind and the bustle of the street in the doorway of a grocer’s shop. The street filled with people going about the business of their lives. Women carried baskets of food as children played in the puddles of the night storm.

  ‘You would be surprised by what Dedalus Zogel would want. In the last breaths of life a man can desire many things. Soon it will be his time to leave this world. He told me last night that his life was like a jigsaw with a piece missing. The Prince Regent is that final piece.’ Lucius again looked about him anxiously and went on speaking quickly. ‘Tell Jack Charity to make Zogel a happy man and sell him the Prince Regent. Let Zogel fight off the power seekers. He will still have the Golden Kipper and there are plenty of fish in the sea.’

  ‘One hundred thousand pounds?’ Mariah asked. ‘And he will be free?’

  ‘I can make you that promise.’ Lucius shrugged the collar of his fox coat. He suddenly stopped speaking and started to walk off at a pace. He gestured quickly for Mariah to follow. ‘Do not look, but we are being followed. I thought as much when we left the hotel but wasn’t sure. Do not answer me but listen carefully. They will do whatever they can to stop you meeting with Charity. Now they have seen you speaking to me it has made

  matters worse. When I tell you to, run – run like the wind and never stop until you get to the prison. If they catch you before you speak to your friend than all is lost.’ Lucius dropped several gold coins purposely to the floor. ‘Now Mariah, run!’ he said as a gaggle of children grabbed for the money and blocked the narrow street.

  Without reply, Mariah set off at a pace. The wind blew his hair and the first drops of rain beat on his face. He dodged in and out of the people who filled the street and jumped the cages of squawking chickens that were stacked ready for slaughter outside the butcher’s shop.

  Taking a look back, he saw Lucius engulfed in a brood of brats hunting the cobbles for the gold coins. A man tried to push his way through, shouting as he stumbled over a pile of children eagerly snatching for the money. Mariah smiled as he ran, knowing that he would have a chance to get away.

  From Bar Street he turned the corner and ran underneath the clock as it struck the hour. He followed the narrow alleyways until the houses were no more and the old pond came in sight. Before him, reaching up from the ground and surrounded by a high wall, Mariah could see the towers of Dean Prison.

  [ 18 ]

  Habeus Corpus

  LOOKING up from the mud road at the tall gateway, Mariah felt that if he walked through the grand doorway of Dean Prison he would never escape. There was no charge on his life and he had committed no crime, but something inside, some bizarre instinct, told him that all was not well. He had the strangest sensation that he was a rat about to step on a gigantic trap that would snap shut and burst him in two. As he stood at the edge of a vast puddle of chalky water, he looked back towards the town. He could see the domes of the Prince Regent, the single spire of Athol House, the turrets of the Towers and above them the castle. It was as if they formed the points of a gigantic star that had been pulled from the sky and fastened to the earth.

  In his hand he held the telegram. Already it was tattered and torn from the chase through the town. He opened it once more and read the words over and over. He looked back: the road was empty and he was sure whoever had followed him was nowhere to be seen.

  Mariah couldn’t stop thinking of Lucius and what he had done. In his mind’s eye he could see him throwing the coins to

  the ground as the man who had been following them raced for Mariah. If Lucius hadn’t done that, Mariah knew he would surely have been caught. Why? Mariah asked himself again and again as he looked up at the clock perched high above the gate and waited for it to strike the hour. He had followed Lucius to the Towers and knew that in some way he must be involved in whatever Walpole was planning, yet now Lucius had offered him a way for Charity to escape the gallows.

  A sign on the door in faded black and gold letters said that visiting time would be over within the hour. Mariah walked to the door, took hold of the large brass handle and knocked. It gave a dull, empty thud that shook the wooden boards. A small shutter slid back and a pair of black squinted eyes stared at him.

  ‘Yes?’ asked the man from behind the door, his eyes blinking as if he saw the light for the first time.

  ‘I’ve come to see Jack Charity, Captain Jack Charity,’ Mariah said as bravely as he could, hoping his voice wouldn’t crack.

  ‘The murderer?’ the man asked as he continued to stare at Mariah, his eyes searching every inch of his face.

  ‘No,’ he said sternly. ‘The one who is the owner of the Prince Regent.’

  The shutter was slammed quickly.

  ‘A visitor for the murderer, outside, now,’ said the voice.

  The door to Dean Prison opened slowly. As it swung back on its great hinges it scraped the dirt from the courtyard. Mariah could see a tall building with a grey slate roof. Every window was barred and at every door was a guard. In the corners of the courtyard were large bloodhounds tethered to iron rings. They slept huddled in pairs, waiting for someone to escape. On one side of the prison building was a large wooden scaffold. There, hanging from a length of rope was a thick hessian sack. It was filled with sand and bricks to make up the weight of a man. It rested on a trap door.

  The man with the black eyes ushered Mariah inside. He was the same height as Mariah and dressed in a neat blue uniform and small peaked cap. From his belt dangled a chain that went to the large hoop of keys he carried in his hand.

  ‘Follow me,’ he said with a nod and a twitch of his eye. ‘The murderer is in here.’

  As they set off across the courtyard, the door to Dean Prison closed behind them. Mariah gulped, fearing that he would never be free from the place and that Walpole would be waiting to capture him.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ Mariah asked as the man walked ahead of him.

  ‘To his cell – he’s not convicted so we have to keep him away from the others.’

  ‘Are there many people here?’ Mariah asked, hoping to fill each footstep with conversation.

  ‘Fifty, give or take a few … Can’t keep track of them, they keep dying … or trying to escape. We had more but some were convicted and some were –’

  His words were lost as the trap door on the gallows was snapped open and the sack fell with a loud crash, snapping the rope and bursting open on the floor.

  ‘Good job that wasn’t for real, eh, lad? Could have caused him a nasty injury. We would have to hang him all over again.’ The man laughed. ‘Through here and up the stairs.’

  Mariah followed on as the guard opened countless gates and doors and walked up several spiral stairways. Everything smelt new. It was bright an
d shining and gleamed. It had the smell of caustic soda and reminded Mariah of nights spent in the infirmary of the Colonial School in front of the bright coal fire with toast and hot chocolate and the smell of carbolic soap.

  There was not a single person in sight. Mariah followed the man along a gantry that looked down into a cavernous landing

  with cells on either side. Each had a solid metal door and each was painted in bright red with a brass number upon it. Far below he could see the stone tiles of the refectory floor and several empty wooden benches.

  ‘Is Captain Charity the only one you have here?’ Mariah asked as they walked up yet another spiral staircase and along another landing.

  ‘Only the murderer in this block – only been open a week, paint’s not even dry – he’s our first guest. Just been built. We keep all the others in the old wing, but the murderer’s special – Inspector Walpole said we had to keep him away from the rest of them and he had to have three guards all of his own. Not to escape is the murderer.’

  ‘He’s not a murderer,’ Mariah said angrily in reply as they went through yet another door.

  The guard stopped and turned to Mariah. He pointed an iron key in his face. ‘If Walpole says the man is guilty then he is guilty and I won’t argue. Guilty until proved innocent, that’s what the law in this place is all about – you mark my words,’ he said in his terrier voice as he screwed up his black eyes until they vanished in folds of wrinkled flesh. ‘Now, if you want to see the murderer then don’t argue with me.’

  They continued in silence. Mariah counted the paces between the doors and watched as the guard used the same key in every lock. Soon they were in the highest part of the building. The roof sloped to one side as they walked under the eaves along a narrow passageway. There were only four cells on this corridor. Mariah looked down over the gantry to the floor far below.

  The guard laughed. ‘Fall from there and you’d know all about it. Still, you’d have a soft landing – so new, the mortar isn’t yet set,’ he said as he tugged Mariah. ‘The murderer is in this one.’