by Ben Hammott
"Sound plan as it seemed, it did not work out as he envisaged. What Moriarty was unaware of, but was about to be, was that the Aztec engineer who had safeguarded the room was much more sneaky than Moriarty had given him credit for. You see, the stone his size ten's currently stood on, had already primed the sequence of traps he was about to face.
"Confident with his plan, Moriarty kept his back to the wall and stepped onto the small ledge of rough stone running around the edge. As soon as his feet had left the stone block at the entrance, a loud grinding of stone filled the cavern. Now, as I mentioned earlier, the man was no fool, he realised the consequences of the sound and that something very bad was going to happen. His eyes flicked between the passage and the ancient artifact he did not wish to leave behind, so throwing caution to the wind, he raced across the room and grabbed the artifact. As he turned to rush back to the passage, the grinding of stone seemed to judder before grinding to a stop. Moriarty smiled, the ancient mechanism had not survived the test of time; it had jammed and he was perfectly safe.
"Keen to test the mysterious power of the artefact, he held it in both hands and stared into the ruby eyes of the grotesque god statue. The eyes began to glow. The statue became warm. Moriarty's body tingled from head to foot, his hair and moustache stood on end and then, without any warning a great…"
"Please Mr. Murdersin, don't stop. A great, what?"
Furtive shrugged. "Sorry lads, I have no idea. I was robbing this gentleman's club at the time, one of those posh ones in Soho, and had been eavesdropping on the conservation in the clubroom next to the office where I was currently emptying the vault of all its valuables. So engrossed was I in the story, I failed to hear the man who stood in the open door staring at me enter. I, of course, leapt out of the window before he could apprehend me. The result is I never heard the end of the story, but Moriarty obviously survived because you lot trained with him."
"But, with all due respect, Mr. Murdersin," said Flint. "Why start a story you don't know the end of?"
"No, it ain't fair," said another.
"Nevertheless, even without the ending it's still a damn good story." Furtive told them. "Kept you lot entertained for a few minutes."
"Yes, Sir, but there was no ending. It's just not done, Sir. It's so frustrating and we are going to spend ages trying to work out what that great thing was?"
"Well, perhaps it will help relieve the boredom you moaned about earlier."
"And what about the nick in Major Moriarty's right ear lobe, that weren't even mentioned," said one of the men.
"Sorry, I forgot that bit," said Furtive. "Hanging from that earlobe used to be an earring in the shape of a tiny skull with two rubies set in its eye sockets; it looked really evil by all accounts. Anyway, as he was hacking his way through the Peruvian jungle, he was chased by a band of hungry cannibals keen on making the Major their next meal. His only way to escape was to jump off this cliff into the raging river below. When he leapt off the edge, the earring got caught on a twig and was ripped off, taking with it a bit of his ear lobe. It is said, even to this day, those cannibals still worship that earring as their god."
"I thought it was gonna be something more exciting than that?" moaned Jekyll.
"What a bloody let down," said another.
Sensing he was losing his audience's interest, Furtive said, "Now open this gate and let me through."
"Sorry, Sir, that is beyond my means," said Flint. "Mr. Drooge has the only key."
"Furtive glanced at the lock. No matter I can soon pick it and have it open."
"Sorry, Sir, you step one foot this side of that barrier and it might be the only part of you recognizable after we have all fired our weapons."
Furtive could tell by the man's stern gaze, however much the man feared Murdersin, he wasn't going to disobey his employer's strict orders. He smiled. "Well done, Flint. Sebastian said you were a good man and now I know that to be true."
Flint let out a relieved sigh. "Thank you very much, Sir. Mr. Drooge said you might come and check on security."
He is an astute man your employer."
"He is that, Sir. So…did we pass your test?"
Furtive noticed every face in the corridor looked at him expectantly. "Of course you passed, cut my legs off and call me Shorty if you didn't. A finer bunch of men have never been caught in my gaze than those standing before me now."
The men cheered and congratulated themselves. One man, yes him at the back again, forgetting where he was, fired his pistol in celebration. The bullet ricocheted around the passage causing everyone to dive to the floor. It struck a metal bar of the gate and pinged through the open door.
The men glanced at the man at the end of the passage with smoke curling from his pistol.
He grinned. "Works fine now, Mr. Murdersin." He peered through the bars of the gate at the far end of the corridor. "Mr. Murdersin?"
DIABLO
The hunchback in the quarry was worried. He had a strong feeling he was being watched. The evil red eyes peering at him from out of the darkness did nothing to belay the feeling. But however hard he strained his ears, he heard no sounds of anyone following. He stared at the red eyes again. He knew there were no dangerous animals in Britain, so it had to be some harmless creature, a badger, a fox, maybe a weasel or a stoat, but probably a pet cat turned feral. "Here, kitty, kitty. It's okay, I won't hurt you."
Diablo's thoughts were not as comforting. If the human took one step closer it would abandon its previous plan, leap upon the man's meaty carcass and rip it to shreds before feeding on the flesh. It would be a pleasant change from the tough old mutton he was fed every day. Oh, how it hated mutton. Well aware its creaking bones and tired muscles would not perform as they once did, to this end it had been waiting for the opportunity to slip past the human and attack it from the front. Then, if its dinner fled, it would head back deeper into the quarry and away from the only possible exit. It crouched when the human raised its leg, but the foot didn't complete its intended action. Both expectant diner and unaware dinner were distracted. Both turned their gaze toward the sound.
The hunchback, as curious as a cat with only one life left and that was hanging on a very strained thread, turned and walked toward the point where the sound came from. He approached the wall of rock and cocked an ear. His eyes travelled up the cliff to gaze at a small dark opening where the sounds of scuffling and cursing drifted out.
Diablo kept his higher advantage point and traversed along the small ledge of rock, stared across the clearing at the strange but tasty looking human and followed its gaze to the hole in the rock.
It was difficult to say who of the three were more surprised at the sudden appearance of the face at the opening. The person belonging to the recently arrived face, the hunchback looking up at it, or Diablo perched on the rock with jaws agape.
The face recovered quickly from the surprise, smiled at the hunchback below and said, "Fancy meeting you here."
The hunchback's mouth opened but no words came out.
Diablo caressed its yellow teeth with its tongue. It seemed he was going to have double helpings tonight.
Furtive had not hung about to see the bullet pass through the air he had vacated a split second before its arrival. As soon as he had realized there would be no escape through the guard filled corridor, even if he'd had in his possession his namesake's legendary fruit knife, he had rushed back to Sebastian's private museum to see if his only alternative route of escape was possible.
He pulled the logs from the grate, stuck his head in the fireplace and held up a candle. His sight was not filled with hope and happiness, but there was a slim chance he could make it if he got rid of the hump. He slipped off the coat the padded hump was attached to. Stretched the aches from a back not used to being bent over at such an angle for a pronged amount of time, plunged a hand into a pocket and grabbed the item he sought. One end of the ball of string he pulled out was tied around the collar, the other attached to his belt. He gra
bbed the whisky decanter and took a long gulp, stuffed a handful of cigars in a pocket that seemed to be of infinite proportions, fished out his head lamp, lit in, attached it to his head and he was ready.
He slithered into the narrow confines of the chimney and began his climb. Though soot covered the sides, it was not of an abundance to indicate the fire was lit very often. Furtive grunted, groaned and cursed as he pulled, clawed, pushed and shoved his protesting body up the claustrophobic tube. When he arrived at the top ten minutes later, he let his sweaty face bathe in the breeze from an opening a short distance away. He dragged his body out of the chimney, crawled through the short tunnel and poked his head out into the cool night air. Sensing he was not alone, he directed his gaze from the heavens to the earth. His eyes did a double take. His eyebrows rose to peer over the large stuck on nose blocking their view. His fear thermometer began to bubble. His lips formed words as casually as they could in the circumstances and addressed the hunchback he was impersonating. "Fancy meeting you here." The reply he received, though only one simple word, could not have confused him more if it was spoken in Russian.
The hunchback looked up at the face that matched his own. "Crakett?"
Furtive stared at his mirror image. The name that had just been uttered had undeniably been posed as a question. There could only be one reason, the hunchback below was also not the real Crakett Murdersin. "Wait, there, I'll be down in a minute."
Furtive turned around, untied the string from his belt and pulled up the hump padded coat. Though difficult and grazing elbows awkward to slip the unwieldy coat on, the task was soon completed. Furtive slipped over the edge and scrambled none to gracefully down the slope.
Diablo had used the distraction to slip further along the quarry and selected a suitable ambush point. Though killing both strange humans would not be easy, or probably pain free for its old limbs, it was confident it could carry out the double murder. If it was successful it wouldn't have to eat mutton for a week or more. It was a very pleasing thought. It slunk into the shadows and waited.
"I don't understand why you are here, Mr. Murdersin. I thought you were going to the Manor."
Furtive assumed the hunchback imposter who had disappeared from the carriage and now stood before him, was a decoy arranged by the real Murdersin. Perhaps this hunchback was also a thief and set to the task he had just carried out. Furtive's quick thinking came into play. "When you failed to show up at the castle I had to initiate a backup plan and carry out your job as well."
"Sorry about that, Mr. Murdersin, I fell out of the coach and ended up down here in the quarry." The hunchback glanced at his feet and then wiped them on the ground. "I think I may have trodden in something."
"These things happen, which is why I always have a backup plan."
"Very wise, Sir." The hunchback tilted his head from side to side as he examined his twin.
"Is something wrong?" Furtive asked.
"Oh, no, nothing wrong Mr. Murdersin, you just seem a bit different from when I saw you last, but it was rather dark when we met."
"That would explain it."
"Yes, Sir, but the dark wouldn't explain your voice that now sounds nothing like it did before, would it?"
"I suppose not, but what would was if the voice you heard before was not my real voice. I have many I call upon to keep my identity a secret if the need arises."
"Well that explains it then, Sir, though I fail to comprehend how disguising your voice would prevent anybody from recognizing you from your unique face, bent over posture and a rather large hump on your back. But that is your concern."
"It most certainly is," said Furtive gruffly.
"Is the voice you are using now your real voice?"
Furtive shrugged. "Perhaps, perhaps not, but I do a really good impression of a pirate if you want to hear it?"
"Not really, I'd rather know what happens now, and will I still get paid?"
"That is something I will dwell on. As to your former enquiry, it may seem a strange request, but I have my reasons and it's important you answer the question with as much detail as you recall. What did I tell you I was going to do tonight while you were in the castle?"
"Well, Sir, you didn't say a lot about that at all. You just told me you had to go to Drooge Manor and I had to go to the castle and pretend to be him, you, and do what Sebastian Drooge told me to do."
"I said nothing about stealing any paintings?"
The hunchback shook his head. "Not until just now. I guess you ain't one to share more than you have to."
Furtive glanced around the quarry. "I have much to do, so let's get out of here."
The hunchback pointed to the right. "That way, Sir. The other's a dead end, as I found out earlier."
"Okay, lead on."
The hunchback led and the other hunchback followed.
Diablo watched its double helping of dinner come nearer and nearer and nearer. When they were just the other side of the rock it crouched behind, it jumped on top and leapt into the air. Something cracked; it was its damn spine again. It felt like red hot pokers were stabbing its back. Diablo twisted in agony in mid air and thumped to the ground.
"What was that?"
"What, Sir, I didn't hear anything."
Diablo dragged its aching body into the shadows, every movement a fresh source of pain.
Furtive turned. His eyes scanned the area. They glimpsed nothing but dirt and rock.
"Probably the cat I saw earlier, Sir," suggested the hunchback.
Furtive ended his search and carried on along the quarry.
Around the next bend they saw the castle looming high above them. It had been built almost level with the edge of the quarry's rocky side. Though most of its windows were dark, a couple shone with candlelight.
They stepped into the shadows when a window opened and something was thrown out. It landed at their feet with a soft thump. They both looked at the haunch of mutton oozing blood.
"Now, who or what do you think that's for?" said Furtive.
"Probably for that cat I saw," said the hunchback.
Furtive looked at the large piece of meat, doubtfully. "Well, if it is a cat, it's not the cute and cuddly one you're picturing in your mind. Come on, let's go."
The hunchback cast a nervous glance back into the quarry and quickly checked his shoes again before following.
Diablo watched its dinner walk away, smelt the unappetizing aroma of the tough mutton and reluctantly dragged its painful body towards it. Damn, mutton again.
At the end of the quarry a high brick wall blocked their way.
"I wonder why that's there," said the hunchback.
"I have no idea but I suspect it's to keep something in rather than anything out." Furtive picked out a metal framework in the darkness where the wall met natural rock and walked over. "It's a lift of some kind." He turned to the hunchback. "Can you climb these metal supports?"
The hunchback looked doubtfully at the tall metal struts interspersed with cross beams. "I don't think so, Sir."
Furtive pointed out a metal cage level with the top of the wall. "I'll climb up and lower that down to you."
"Thank you, Sir, and I must say your vicious reputation is not deserved."
"I think that opinion will change when you encounter the real me." Furtive gripped one of the metal supports and shimmied up it like it was a rope. He reached the top in no time and released the ratchet that sent the cage to the ground. When the hunchback had climbed aboard, he turned the wheel the cage chain was connected to and hoisted him up.
"Well, Sir, what now," asked the hunchback when he was back on solid ground.
Furtive gazed at the distant Drooge Manor and pointed. "We go there."
The two hunchbacks walked off along the track that took then away from Castle Drooge.
Buckley was confused, not an astounding declaration I admit, but nevertheless confused was what he was. His instructions were clear in his mind: if he saw someone who looked like Mr. Mur
dersin, he was to fire the pistol he now held in preparation of doing just that. But should he? Because it would be impossible for three hunchbacks to look so alike, it was obvious to him that Mr. Murdersin, the man who had given him the order, must be one of the identical hunchbacks walking along the road toward his position. He decided to wait until they were closer before making his decision.
So indecisive was Buckley that even when they were very close he had still no idea what he should do. To find out he stepped out from his hiding place to talk to them. "Sorry to interrupt your even stroll, Mr. Murdersin…" His eyes flicked hopefully from one hunchback to the other.
Furtive relieved the man's tension. "Yes, what is it?"
"Oh, good, it is you, Sir, though your voice sounds a little different."
"It's not his real voice, but he does a good pirate impression, apparently," said the hunchback.
"You do, Sir. I'd like ter hear that. I can do some bird calls. They ain't very good but…"
"…Quiet, both of you." Furtive stared at Buckley sternly. "Of course it's me, who else would it be?"
"Well, Sir, ignoring the person beside you who looks identical, no one, Sir. It's just that your instructions were to fire my pistol," he waved it in the air for emphasis, "if I saw anyone that looked like you coming along this very road, but when I spied the two of you I thought there's no point in firing my pistol to let you know he was coming when you are already with the one I was to warn you about." He took a deep breath. He felt a headache fast approaching.