“What for?”
“Do you remember when we went out there, that we went to that structure as we wanted to check it? Well, we are sure that there is another one out there – somewhere!
“And as I gather: some of them apparently want to look about that wood!”
“Why would they want to look about the wood?”
“They believe that the last refers to something that’s there.”
It alarmed Bryson, and he tried not to reply.
It annoyed him more than anything else. He could not imagine them coming up with that theory themselves – even if it did sound insane.
He calmed himself, rationally considering what they were doing, and why Robert had told him it anyway. He had to have told him it for a reason.
“Your investigators seem to have an interest in going there too! Perhaps they are interested in going to the tombs to set up some of their equipment there.”
For a moment, he looked a little surprised at his reply. But he doubted it.
Bryson strolled along the corridor, thinking of how insane it was: them all looking through that wood, with what could be out there – including a “maniac”, probably even capable of killing a group of them, if given the right means to do it.
What would happen if they stayed in this place too long? Would they be picked off one by one until they either sought sanctuary elsewhere or found a way of ridding the place of its awful menaces.
At the window, at the end of the top corridor, a rook tapped rhythmically at the window frame. It gave no indication of seeing them approach it, but it looked ready to fly away from anything that might confront it.
Robert led Bryson to the window, near Sir Richard’s room. And he watched the bird become aware of their presence, and fly up into the air, compelled to make a retreat from the strange giants.
Surprisingly, he watched a few cars approaching the castle. They were full of strangers, who seemed to have a reason for being there, and are full of life and keen to do something.
The car doors swung open, and he listened to them climb out of the vehicles. Banging doors, laughs, and voices mingled.
“James invited them,” Robert eventually confessed, after waiting for him to reply.
“They’re here to help you search!”
“We don’t have a large amount of time left ... They may be able to achieve something ...”
“Of course, but how much will they be acquiring of it?” he asked out of curiosity, wondering how little James would possibly pay them.
“They will be paid for searching and nothing else,” he replied firmly, mildly surprised that he thought that they would give away such a large amount of money belonging to them.
He examined his face for a moment, and he looked out of the window when Bryson did not budge.
He was sure that they had done it because he believed that if he had not they would not have a hope in hell of finding it. They would help them a lot, and he now could not imagine them going to the lengths that it would take to obtain it on their own.
Bryson turned, and nearly laughed, but saw how serious it was. The room was an absolute eyesore. It actually had becoming more messed up than it had been – and he had considered it to be in its worst state when he had last seen it.
He strolled over to the bed, while he removed the key. He lunged at an old chest, sitting under the bed, at the center of the bed.
“They don’t do things by half!” Robert uttered, glaring at the broken lock sprawled over the floor, at the opposite wall (probably thinking of it as competition).
Bryson picked up the broken lock. And he checked if the key fitted it. But it definitely did not fit, even though it almost was the same size.
He now suspected that it belonged to something else.
“Have you tried one of those keys there?” Robert mumbled – crossing the floor – avoiding the loose planks and other obstacles in his path.
“What keys ...?”
“There they are!” he spoke, grabbing the keys.
Bryson knew instantly that one of them fitted perfectly into the keyhole of the chest, and that his gold key definitely never belonged to a chest.
Chapter 21
No Traces
Bryson approached the room where Merton and Mortimer were, and Mortimer peered out, hearing his footsteps; and Bryson saw that he looked almost unchanged since he had previously seen him.
Merton stood silently, observing him entering. “Shall we look outside? We may realize something from what is out there – gain an entirely new perspective of this place.”
“Good idea!” Mortimer spoke, tiredly stretching out his arms. “And, of course, we can check if that thing, you said chased you through the wood, has left any traces ...”
Merton walked to the window, and allowed one of the scientists there to pass him. “It looks cold out there – we better put on some warm clothing.”
They then proceeded to the door.
Once Merton and Mortimer had put on the right outdoor gear, Bryson led them to the door, going out the back of the castle, out of the way of the police.
The sunshine, and white snow, blinded them as they squeezed through the door, partly jammed with snow, piled up against the side of the castle.
Mortimer shuffled through a knee-high layer of snow, moving away, and Merton, at first, could not move, but shuffled after him, tightly wrapping his jacket around him, shivering from sudden cold chills.
The snow thinned, as they went further out from the wall.
At the corner of the castle, Mortimer stopped and waited for them to catch up with him. He did not seem in a hurry to go anywhere – more like rushing to make himself warm. They had been stuck in the dark castle for a long time, without much exertion. Perhaps they should have eaten more than they had. With more sugar and protein, to keep them warm.
“Over there ...!” Bryson said, looking at part of the wood, where he had swiftly escaped out of the wood, the night before. “Our footprints are still visible!”
Mortimer approached them. “I see that the three of you were running.”
Merton studied the separated prints, as they moved along.
“Perhaps it would be best to find something to defend us!” Bryson muttered, trying to warn them. “If we destroyed it, we would stop it harming someone someday.”
“It!” Mortimer muttered. “Let’s find their prints first. And obtain some type of insight into what we are up against.”
Bryson examined the snow all around him, keeping his eyes peeled for anything, in the trees. It was hard to believe that he was at the same place as the night before, and that the thing that chased them had even existed. There were no signs that anything had been there.
They strolled through the wood, following their frantically placed prints, and even came across a patch of marked snow where James had fallen over onto the ground, and they had frantically pulled him to his feet.
Bryson looked at every place he had heard the things, and every conceivable place that the thing could have been; but there were no traces of anything.
They finally gave up when they reached the place where the light had been; and Mortimer then led them back.
It astonished Bryson that the evidence of them being there, which should have been completely visible, was not anywhere. It was absurd believing that there was a chance that the snow had covered it. Why would it only have covered it ...? They had their prints there! And there would be a larger level of snow.
At their approach to the back door of the castle, Merton stopped and looked at him.
“Your encounter might have been with an entity!”
“It had to be a floating one!” he joked. “But why was it so loud? I heard it crashing through the wood, charging towards us.”
“It might have created the sounds itself. Or like the sounds in the castle: they might have manifested from elsewhere!”
Bryson considered the facts from different angles, while he and Merton cleaned away the snow from about the
door, before entering. Mortimer seemed to be doing the same, behind him, but, when he observed him, he saw that he was checking something further out.
After a few minutes, Mortimer crouched down to study something, on the snow. And they followed his path through the snow – to where he was – where the snow thinned out.
Suddenly, almost like magic, Bryson saw shoe impressions appear, going through the snow, leading away from the castle, and he rushed towards Mortimer.
“Whose shoe is that size?” Mortimer instantly asked.
“I don’t know!” Bryson answered.
It was impossible to tell, from the vague marks.
“They look as though they were made at about the same time as my prints were made – over at the wood. They could not have been made earlier, as they would be covered over with snow. And they could not have been made later, as they would have no snow on them.”
“Someone left the castle, at about the same time as you entered it! And they went off into those trees over there.”
“But nobody left! Everybody was in the castle when we arrived back. And who would have left in the dark to go over there?”
“We better tell Inspector Bailey about it!”
“I’ll go and find him?” Merton spoke, leaving them.
Mortimer finished examining it, and he stood with Bryson. It did not take long for Inspector Bailey’s heavy voice to appear from the castle – and rapidly come towards them. He was intensely questioning Merton.
He turned silent as he emerged from the castle – slightly shivering – observing the blinding snow.
He carefully examined everything about him. Merton walked past him, and two policemen came out.
They all moved over to them, and stood beside Bryson.
Inspector Bailey looked as if he wished to pace back and forwards, but saw the print and depth of the snow. He eventually satisfied himself by putting his hands at his hips, while chewing his lip.
The two policemen analyzed the prints, considering whether to start brushing away snow from one.
“Have you been over in that direction?” Inspector Bailey asked, looking at their trail going along the castle.
“No!” Merton replied swiftly. “We were over there...”
“Let’s follow them,” Inspector Bailey announced, setting off, going along the side of the prints. And they followed him, leaving the policemen at a footprint.
As they increased their distance, forensic investigators emerged out of the doorway, glancing at them and at the prints going off into the distance.
“This is a hell of a place!” Inspector Bailey mumbled.
It gave the impression that he had always been saying such things, but Bryson knew that it was something different to him, and he was handling something beyond what he normally had been dealing with. It surprised Inspector Bailey that there had been someone at the castle, and that the person had made such a dramatic exit.
The marks gave the impression that the person had rushed away. Perhaps the person had calmly strolled through the castle first. They were spaced further than normal, and unevenly separated, going in a slightly altering course into the trees.
“It might have been one of the servants taking a short cut!” Bryson asked, to see what he would say, and break the silence between him and them.
“You have to be kidding! None of the servants would walk out here during the day – never mind at night – at this place! The new owner may have to replace them now.”
He increased their pace, determined to arrive quickly at the trees.
They only slowed as they entered the first trees.
Crows, barely recognizing humans, flew up into the air, from above them, sending snow spraying about them, melting on their faces.
Mortimer led them deep into the wood, where it was more lifeless and still. There were no signs of anything.
The sun faintly shone, like the moon, through a thin cloud vapor.
Merton and Mortimer bored of searching for nothing, just copied Inspector Bailey, searching about the trail for clues left there. And Bryson intensely checked the undergrowth and branches, which went about them – in case the person had left anything, while going through the wood, in the dark.
To the their disappointment, a small farm road emerged across their path, and the prints vanished into the heavy tread marks going along it.
“Where does this lead to?” Inspector Bailey asked, trying to recall something like a map, studying the prints going onto the road.
“The village,” Bryson answered. “The person must have walked there, or used a car ...”
Bryson realized that it had been a daft idea. The path would not have directly led to the person! The person would have to have been raving mad!
He was glad that they did not have to follow it any further. Because he wanted to return to the castle, as the lawyer would probably be arriving, with the video. And he had better and more urgent things to do.
Chapter 22
Direct Action
A policeman soundlessly guarded the dining room, with an occasional subdued degree of confusion – surely considering things told to him by Inspector Bailey.
On Inspector Bailey’s nod, he automatically turned off the lights, and the chattering dispersed.
The butler turned on the video, and as the picture appeared, Bryson watched the lawyer look nervously at Inspector Bailey, standing near him. He was sure that the police had realized something. Yet many of their reactions could be put down to a number of things. And he did know that Inspector Bailey for one wanted to move out of the castle as soon as he could. But he was considerably determined to solve the case first.
Some of the police, in nearby rooms, sounded as if they thought that the showing of the video was amusing. Their remarks, coming through the hall, were loud mutters, as someone had told them to speak silently.
When the video was started, Sarah and a few of the others sat with pens and pieces of paper, ready to record any valuable information, like tourists on a treasure hunt. Yet when it got under way, they did not write much, to his amusement.
It became apparent that Sir Richard had planned the video in more detail than they had been imagining. He seemed to have thought over every second and every word, like a good businessman, and no longer looking as insane as they had recently been thinking of him. (He avoided mentioning anything that was not to do with his speech!)
Bryson suspected that he was hiding things, and that the whole speech was an elaborate plan, carefully concocted to achieve something. When the video ended, and they had the lights on, he wondered if the old guy had actually done what he had said after all – and if it had been his last vengeance for something, perhaps at that time, which Robert had once suggested. Even though they had not done anything to him!
“Well, what are all of you going to do now?” Inspector Bailey uttered, looking at no one in particular.
“If any of you need me, I’ll be back tomorrow,” the lawyer swiftly spoke, as he removed the video from the machine himself – opened his briefcase, and dropped it in. He fixed his glasses on his nose, and made his way towards the door.
Bryson saw the policemen react strangely at the doorway, before the lawyer arrived there. The others in the nearby rooms stopped talking, as though to listen to the lawyer.
The lawyer’s eyes bulged out, from behind his glasses, as he went around the door. And he held his head down, and rushed forwards, ignoring who was at the door.
A policeman finally summoned Inspector Bailey, and he crept out to the door.
As soon as he heard voices, coming from outside, it was evident that the media had arrived. However, as they continued talking, they all became interested, and he followed Robert and some of the others to the window.
To his amusement, he saw a large group surrounding Inspector Bailey, and two policemen.
News programme cameramen and newspaper cameramen rushed about filming him from every angle, while microphones were being shoved in front
of him. They obviously were all part of the national news media. And they seemed very interested in the castle, with its haunted castle look, which they vigorously tried to capture on film.
“Is there anyone famous there?” James inquired, from the side of the room.
“I recognize two of the women with microphones ...” Robert muttered.
Bryson and the others shifted back into the room, and sat listening to Inspector Bailey, with a little astonishment, almost transformed by the experience.
“So did anyone discover anything from that video?” Robert asked, standing in front of them, slightly copying Inspector Bailey – who was at the same time now loudly giving a speech on how he would solve the case soon.
Their ears in the room mostly shifted from side to side, verifying their suspicions.
“I think we should now check the castle ourselves!” James uttered loudly, from the side of him.
“What ...?” Sarah moaned, bemused, at what he meant.
“I don’t trust anyone any more!” he argued, losing his temper at something, confusing everyone.
Sarah made a stupefied grin. “What do you mean?”
James jumped to his feet, and paced about in front of them. Then he stopped in front of the television screen, giving indications that he was going to come out with an embarrassing speech about something, or argue with them.
“There is nothing mentioned there that says that we could share the search. It said that the person who finds it could have it!”
Instead of everyone in the room arguing with him, as Bryson expected would occur, a few of the women suggested that they believed that he was wrong, and the rest agreed, and they all ignored him.
Robert just laughed, and remained silent.
When the room turned silent, Robert moved beside James. “What do you think you are doing ...?” he argued.
Bryson noticed that the women in the room now had worried looks.
Sarah glared angrily at James. “You search on your own then!” she grunted, sounding slightly drowsy.
The Lost Treasure Map Series Page 6