The Rattler (Rattler Trilogy Book 1)

by P. A. Fielding

“Why would we need to be checked,” asked Zoe.

  “Because of what’s at stake. You’re so close to taking millions from them. The politicians want to make sure you don’t get on their backs, whip them, and take them for a ride.”

  “OMG! I love you. I absolutely love you!” yelled Vana.

  “Now, I’ve already booked to see the collection this afternoon. It will just take a phone call to confirm. Care to come with me?”

  2

  In the hours that followed, Zoe, Sally and Vana were taken to see the hoard for themselves. A lift led directly down to the basement and, at the bottom, they were greeted by a guard who was stationed at a desk in a small office. Max, an overweight, bald man, came out of the office and approached Kyle. “It’s nice to see you again, Kyle.”

  “Likewise, Max; is it still alright to have another look at the paintings?”

  “Of course; please, this way,” he replied, waving his right hand for the group to follow him to the door at the end of the long, white painted corridor.

  “Who would have known this vault existed – and right under the...” said Vana, who was absolutely buzzing with excitement.

  “Forget what you have seen so far, love,” interrupted Max. “Otherwise I’d have to kill yer!” Vana laughed. “Love it!”

  Max swiped his security pass and the door opened with a rush of air. The gang followed him down a short, narrow, corridor. At the end, directly in front of them, was a round, steel door with a spinning handle, and one door on either side of the corridor, opposite each other. “I wish you guys hadn’t taken my phone,” complained Vana. “No one’s going to believe us.”

  “That’s why we take it, to keep this tour from ending up on YouTube. Besides, they’re going through it and bugging it as we speak.”

  “Shut-up! I’ve got rude pictures on it.”

  “Rude pictures, huh?”

  “Well, not porn. You remember Zoe, that night club...”

  “OK. Vana, be quiet, he’s joking. Max, open the door,” said Zoe, pointing at the three doors. “Good luck with these two, Kyle,” said Max. He approached one of the doors, typed a pass code, 851212, into the LCD display unit, and waited. A buzzing sound marked the opening of the door.

  The room measured approximately 20 m by 20 m, and it was packed with wooden crates obviously containing the paintings. “So,” said Vana, walking up to the crates. “This is what £10 million looks like.” Sally couldn’t hide her feelings and shed another tear. It wasn’t long before Zoe and Vana got a strange sensation about the place. It was cold, and they got the same tingling feeling here that they had encountered back at the house.

  “Right, folks. This is where I’ll leave you – I’ve paperwork and a Mars Bar that need my attention. As always, buzz me when you’re finished,” said Max, pointing to a button on the wall. “Thanks Max,” replied Kyle.

  In theory, Sally could take the paintings back with her today, but, in fact, she would have to wait until the final pages of paperwork had been signed off. The government had not only taken the majority of the St Claire estate, they were also charging for the safe keeping of the paintings.

  Sally placed her hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “I can’t thank you enough, Kyle.”

  “I’m just doing my job. This day means a lot to me, too, and to be the one who finally signs the case off is all the thanks I need.”

  Sally smiled. “I’ll be outside, dears.” Zoe and Vana started examining each wooden crate and were impressed with what they saw. “It’s some hoard, isn’t it?” said Kyle.

  “You betcha it is,” replied Vana.

  “I’ll be outside,” said Zoe, “I’ve seen enough.” The room was making her feel a tad dizzy. “I’ll follow you,” replied Vana. The girls joined Sally on a bench in the corridor. “I wonder if 851212 would work on that door?” said Vana, pointing at the door opposite. “Why what’s in there? Hang on, you memorized the code?” queried Zoe. “Yeah; if we get locked in I wanna make sure we can get out!”

  “Vana, who would lock us in?” asked Sally. Silence. The girls said nothing. “OK. You girls have got me intrigued – what’s in there?”

  Vana pointed at the tag on the door: 141269-6912519-185129319. “Look at the numbers; they represent the letters in the alphabet. That reads Nazi – files – relics.”

  “Well. Go on then.”

  “What?”

  “Test your theory.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because it’s your idea.”

  “If you’re going to do it, Vana, be quick about it,” added Sally.

  “OK. No pressure then.” Vana curiously approached the door, typed 851212 into the keypad – nothing. “Cock! This close,” she said, squeezing her finger and thumb.

  3

  Kyle took another look at the crates – each crate relating to a number on a sheet of paper – and cross-checked them, one by one. It was at that moment that he heard what sounded like long fingernails scraping on wood. He paused to listen. It seemed to be coming from a crate right at the back of the room. The idea that it could be a rat sprang to mind, but he soon dismissed that as he realised the vault was a sealed unit. As he approached the final two boxes the rhythm stopped.

  He had just turned to leave when a croaky voice in his ear stopped him dead. “Nice to finally meet you, Kyle.” The voice spooked him. His wide eyes panned the room – nothing. “You’re here, aren’t you?” he whispered. No response.

  Meanwhile, Vana had got tired of waiting outside and poked her head back into the room. “KYLE!” she yelled. The man almost jumped out of his skin. Vana began to laugh. “Sorry,” she said, as she noticed the panic in his eyes, “but, we’re bored now.”

  “Come on, let’s get the paperwork finalised,” he replied, with a final look in the vault, hoping to catch a glimpse...

  4

  A few hours later, the paper trail had been completed and the case filed for closure. Kyle and his agency would ultimately invoice the Government, and Sally, for their work, payment for which would be due when the first couple of paintings had been sold.

  Later on, the girls, Sally included, celebrated the occasion with a bottle of Champagne and take-away pizza, finished off with crisps and chocolate.

  5

  That night Vana couldn’t sleep; she could hear constant tapping noises, and was aware of dark shadows moving in the room. She reached for her phone in the darkness, selected a playlist, plugged in the ear pieces, and closed her eyes tightly. As she did so, a black shadow dashed out of the bedroom and up the stairs towards the attic, where it shot under the door, across the room, and beneath the floorboards, before halting at a pair of bloodied leather gloves.

  6

  Zoe was fast asleep, but she was having weird dreams about the paintings and their discovery.

  It was early evening and Ellwood was walking in the manor’s woods. He was soon greeted by Ainsworth and Horsley, who were standing next to the hanging bodies of the two travellers. Ellwood stared up at the corpses; their faces were cut and covered in dried blood. “They struggled?” Ellwood asked, noticing further cuts on the travellers’ hands. “Yes,” Ainsworth replied, “and the bitch bit me.” He showed Ellwood his bandaged left hand. “You should have heard him, Mr Ellwood. Screamed like a pig at the hands of a butcher, he did,” said Horsley with a murderous grin. “That’s not appropriate talk,” said Ellwood, as he glanced around. “And make sure they’re cut down. I shouldn’t wish the children to find them.”

  “As you wish, Mr Ellwood. The usual?” asked Horsley. “Yes, burn and spread,” replied Ellwood.

  A slow dribble of blood from one of the traveller woman’s tear ducts started to trickle down her face, unseen by the men who continued their chat. The blood ran down her neck, onto her sloping shoulder, along her right hand, and finally dripped from a long, dirt ingrained finger onto a leather glove worn by Ellwood, who was standing below the body. The blood continued to soak into the leather before Ellwood finally noticed. He tried to w
ipe the blood away, but all that did was to spread the stain. “Another pair ruined,” he remarked, as he ushered the gamekeepers out of the woods.

  7

  Zoe’s closed eyes twitched. She mumbled what sounded like Let go of me. She was still dreaming; she was now outside the Manor House following the gamekeepers as they dragged the travellers across a lush green lawn, and onto the gravel. The rough stones cut their skin and blood flowed as the travellers were hauled towards the front door. “Stop struggling,” said Horsley, “you want me to cut you?”

  “You’re dead,” threatened Charder.

  Horsley, laughed, took out a knife, and proceeded to cut out Charder’s tongue. The man struggled, and screeched with pain. “Shsh! The cat’s got your tongue now,” Horsley joked, as he threw the fresh-meat to a ginger cat sitting on the doorstep. Charder watched as the animal ran into a nearby hedge to enjoy his treat.

  The next part of the dream came in quick flashes. Zoe saw the fracas in the parlour, and the blood entering the paint oils. Then it slowed down to show different scenes where Charles was painting several canvases. Suddenly, Hagatha materialised behind Charles, who was focused on painting a small fruit bowl. “You can’t get rid of me, Little Miss Piggy,” she said.

  Zoe opened her eyes.

  47: Hidden from view

  1

  Zoe panned the room before focusing on the snoring Vana. “Wake up! Wake up!” she whispered.

  “Not now Matt. Go back to sleep,” Vana mumbled, as she turned over.

  “Vana! It’s me!” Zoe persisted with a slight tug. Finally, Vana gave in and opened her tired eyes. “What’s the matter? It’s 3 am!” she said, checking her watch.

  “She’s still here. We’ve got to search the attic.”

  “Again? Why? Have you seen her?”

  “No, just had a weird dream.”

  “Hun, she’s gone. It’s just a bad dream, that’s all.”

  “Please! Hear me out. I’m begging you.”

  Vana knew she wouldn’t get any peace; she sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. “You believe me?” asked Zoe.

  “I’m awake now, so you might as well tell me. What was it all about?” Zoe explained the dream. Vana was intrigued by what she’d heard and pulled back the covers. “Well, come on then!” said Vana, “and you’re making the hot chocolate afterwards.”

  2

  The girls crept onto the landing so as not to wake the sleeping Aunt Sally. Zoe turned on her iPhone’s torch and led the way up the dark stairs. The second floor was quiet and still. Zoe flicked on the landing’s light, and then joined Vana in staring at the gloomy attic stairs.

  “OK. A quick look and then you’re making the drinks.”

  “Agreed,” said Zoe. The pair held hands as they ventured up the stairs. The torch gently highlighted dust particles as the girls climbed towards the dreaded attic. Vana carefully opened the door, revealing an empty room. The chest had been sold in a local auction house, a thin line of dust the only evidence of its existence.

  Zoe and Vana walked calmly over towards the fresh-looking floorboards which stood out from the surrounding sun-faded wood. Vana bent down and started to lift them. “Wait,” said Zoe, “shouldn’t we...”

  “Hun, I’m tired. Let’s just put your mind to rest.”

  “Alright,” said Zoe as Vana lifted the loosened floorboards one by one. Zoe, biting her lower lip, watched on as Vana poked her head into the void. “Well?” she asked.

  “I can’t see anything.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  “Hang on; pass us the light.”

  Zoe handed her the phone. “Why? What can you see?”

  “I don’t know yet, but there is something here at the back.” Zoe waited with baited-breath as Vana’s right hand fiddled around. “I think I’ve got it,” said Vana, as her fingers gripped a dark, dirty coloured rag. “Come out you little bugger.”

  “What is it?” asked Zoe. Vana placed the stained cloth on the floor. “Well, open it,” prodded Vana, whilst she had one final look into the dark space before she replaced the boards. Zoe carefully unwrapped the rag; she jumped backwards, pretending to be scared. “What? What’s the matter?” asked Vana, as she replaced the final board.

  “A spider,” said Zoe, in a creepy voice.

  “Shit! Get it out!”

  “Alright. He’s not harmful.” Zoe picked up the spider and offered it to her friend.

  “Zoe! I’m gonna be sick,” she replied, with her hand covering her mouth.

  “Ah, shit!”

  “What’s the matter now?”

  “It fucking bit me.”

  “I told you – get it out!”

  Zoe took out a tissue from her PJ’s pocket, opened the window and dropped the parachuted-spider out. She looked at the tiny, bloodied puncture holes on her right hand.

  “It’s just a scratch. The rag; open it.”

  “OK. Here goes nothing.” Zoe gently unravelled the rag. “What? It’s empty!” She was convinced she was going to find something. “My dream was so vivid. That’s a bit of an anti-climax,” she said, folding the cloth.

  “Right, hot chocolate time and I’m having the last of the marshmallows.”

  “Alright, I’m sorry for waking you up on an unnecessary whim.”

  “Are you bringing that with you?” said Vana, pointing at the rag. “I’m not leaving it upstairs – the bin is the best place for this.”

  3

  Zoe took one final look around before she closed the door and followed Vana down the stairs. “Might as well have a pee whilst I’m here,” said Vana as she rushed towards the toilet. The first floor bathroom was fresh-looking; gone were the dated yellow fitments and a modern, white suite stood in their place. Jim had pulled his finger out on his return from holiday, and ordered the makeovers with no expense spared.

  Zoe sat on the floor outside the bathroom, back against the wall and legs touching her chest. The door was ajar. “I was dead certain we were going to find something,” whispered Zoe, as she examined the rag.

  “You can’t expect to find something every time you have a dream, Zoe.” Vana flushed the toilet and started to wash her hands. At first she didn’t notice the water rising within the bowl. “ZOE!”

  “Shsh! You’re going to wake Aunt Sally. What’s the matter?”

  “I think you should see this,” she replied nervously. Zoe came in and joined her friend as they watched the water slowly rise up to the rim.

  “It’s backed up that’s all. It’s just James up to his normal tricks again. I take it that’s another roll wasted.”

  “Where’s the plunger?” asked Vana.

  “In the cupboard, why?”

  “Just humour me for a second,” replied Vana, as she apprehensively watched the water level. Zoe passed her a bright red plunger. “I don’t understand what you’re hoping to find – it’s just jobbie-blocked, that’s all. It will go down eventually.”

  “Hang on,” said Vana, as she started to work the plunger. She felt the pressure of the water; there was no doubt about it – something big was blocking the pipe. “You’ll have to have a shower if you get covered in poo,” said Zoe, taking a few steps back just as the pressure gave and released the blockage. Vana could not believe her eyes – she scooped up the item with the plunger. “You were saying?” Zoe took one look, and instantly vomited into the toilet. Vana had found a pair of black, bloodied, leather gloves.

  48: The morning after a spooky night

  1

  Sunlight flooded into the bedroom through the partially opened blinds. Vana came in, carrying a cup of tea and toast. She gently woke the sleeping Zoe. “What time is it?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

  “It’s 11.25.”

  “Why did you let me sleep in? Is Aunt Sally up?”

  “Yes, she’s just nipped out for some cakes. I’ve only been up an hour or so – besides you’ve got a visitor.” Zoe sat up. “Who?”

  “Just drink, eat that, shower a
nd join us downstairs when you’re ready.”

  Vana had already checked the bathroom and discovered that both the rag and the gloves were missing from the washbasin – where they had left them. She asked Sally if she had moved them, without going into too much detail. She didn’t mention last night’s spooky events to Sally; instead they just had a wonderful chat about the weather.

  It had finally dawned on Vana that Zoe’s instant reaction of puking explained her statement that the house is making me ill. Questions flooded into Vana’s mind. What caused the toilets to be blocked? Was it something to do with the traveller woman? There was no way the gloves could have blocked the U-bend from day one; this was an entirely new system. The more she thought about it, the more it creeped her out.

  2

  The front door opened with a thud. “It’s only me, my dears. Whose car is that out front?” Zoe walked down the stairs to greet Sally. “Morning.”

  “Afternoon dear.” She gave Zoe a hug and a kiss. At that point Vana emerged from the lounge. “Quick! Kitchen,” she said, with a slight tug on Zoe’s hand.

  “The car out front?” asked Sally.

  “In here,” replied Vana.

  “Vana! Just tell us,” stressed Zoe.

  “Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” Sally asked.

  Vana closed the kitchen door. “Basically, we went to see the local vicar during our time of need and, well, he died of a heart attack in his church.” Upon hearing the news, Sally’s right hand went into spasm and she dropped her shopping bags onto the centre island; luckily, Zoe’s quick reactions prevented any damage being done to the cakes. “Are you alright Aunt Sally?” She asked.

  “Yes, dear, I just went blank. It was a strange sensation,” replied Sally, emptying her shopping bags.

  “Do you want me to get your tablets?” asked Zoe.

  “No, I’ll be fine with a cup of tea and a cake. It’ll be low blood sugar levels – nothing to worry about. I’ll get the afternoon tea going.”

  “When Vana? When did he die?”

  “They reckon a few hours after our visit.”

  Zoe gasped, and started to shake. “Babs, Helen, and now Reverend Carmichael – what have we done?”