“Yes!” Beck clapped his hands in excitement.
Rion had given up the pretence of being disinterested and looked on with curiosity.
“Well?” Beck asked with bated breath as Senior peered in. “What do you see?”
Unable to bear the silence Beck grabbed the box from his brother. He reached in with one hand, rummaged around and brought up a shiny object the size and shape of an old worn cricket ball. The uneven rock was of so dark a red it was almost black.
“What the…” Beck’s voice trailed off as he looked at the object, trying to make out what on earth it was.
He placed the box on his knee and reached in. His fingers closed around smooth oval objects. Opening his palm Beck found two reddish/black stones there, both the size and shape of duck eggs. “Rubies?” he asked hopefully.
Senior pulled out another object from the jewel box. This was also of the same reddish/black as the others but was flatter and somewhat elliptical. He placed it with the cricket ball and duck eggs.
Beck looked at his brother as a child might upon discovering there was no such thing as Father Christmas. “They’re not jewels are they?”
“They might be,” Senior said hopefully. He scratched his head, trying for the life of him to think what they might be.
“Maybe this is what they look like uncut,” Beck began, his imagination fired up once more. “Maybe this is how raw emeralds are.”
Senior caught some of his twin’s enthusiasm, “The darkest sapphires perhaps!”
Beck’s eyes flashed, “Or black diamonds!”
Rion scoffed. Having been at school more recently than the twins she had already guessed what they were. A chuckle grew into a chortle that grew and grew until she had to hold on to the bars to support herself, her body doubled up, convulsed with loud, rollicking laughter. She finally slowed to a more modest giggle that subsided into a half-smile and smirks.
“You don’t know what they are do you?” she asked.
Beck looked at her in annoyance whilst Senior turned away. Seeing their faces caused another outbreak of hoots and cackles. After her time in confinement Rion took release in the laughter that wracked her body. Each time the bouts subsided all it took was a glance at the objects or a look at the twins’ expressions for her to burst into uncontrollable hysterics.
Finally she was able to rein in her merriment. “Don’t you ever watch those programmes about the pharaohs and ancient Egypt?” she asked between giggles.
The twins looked at her suspiciously.
“If you did you’d know the secrets of embalming.”
“So?” Beck asked, his irritation at an all time high.
“So?” Rion managed to force down a giggle that was brewing in her belly. “You’d know they remove the internal organs first.”
Beck shrivelled his nose. “You mean they’re – ?”
Rion nodded, “His heart, kidneys and liver!” Rion felt the giggle grow and grow. “If you look in the ‘jewel box,’” she couldn’t help sniggering, “you’ll probably find his stomach and intestines as well.”
For some reason this struck her as funnier than the others. She doubled up again before collapsing on the bed, her eyes streaming tears of laughter. Rion wrapped her arms around her stomach that was aching from the strain.
Her laughter was unfortunately shortlived.
What happened next stunned them all into a horrified silence. A strange knocking was heard coming from inside the bars. They looked around before Senior gasped, “It’s the Earl!”
As one they looked at the shelf at eyelevel. The studded coffin in faded green velvet was beginning to rattle and jump about as if caught in an earthquake.
Or as if something inside was trying to get out.
The twins exchanged a horrified look. There was a second of silence before they all screamed.
Beck had turned a ghastly white. “Phone Gorby!” he gasped.
“But – ” Senior gestured to the space in the bars, to the mess, to the studded velvet box, “ – what are we going to tell him about this?”
“Just phone him!”
“And let me out of here!” Rion hugged the wall as far away as possible from the angry Earl. Although she was separated from the Rosleagh coffins by a heavy wire mesh it seemed much, much too close. “I’ll tell Gorby about the box,” she threatened.
Senior glared at the young girl before unlocking her side. “Is the drill still here?”
Beck swooped on a bag in the corner. He pulled out the Black & Decker, “Yes.”
“We’ll say we used it to try and do something to the coffin.”
Beck looked wildly at his brother, “Do what?”
“I don’t know – something!”
Senior threw the Earl’s internal organs into their box and hurriedly shoved it through the bars where it landed some way from the rattling, juddering coffin.
Gorby sat in front of the computer in the gloomy office, playing and replaying the film of Rion running laughing around the grave of Princess Sophia. The carefree young girl was perfect…she really was. The jangling office phone broke into his reverie. It was the twins – what would they do without him?
Senior clicked off the phone, “Thank God he was upstairs.” He grabbed Rion by the hand and ran into the corridor. Beck swiftly followed. “Leave all the talking to me,” Senior slammed the vault door. “And you,” he looked at Rion, “don’t say a word.”
They waited in the dimly lit corridor, flinching at every rattle they could hear through the vault door. After what seemed like an age they heard footsteps racing down the outside corridor. The heavy door was flung open and Gorby stood there, his head gleaming under the lightbulb.
“What on earth is going on?” he asked, slightly out of breath and more than surprised to see the twins and Rion outside the Rosleagh vault.
“The Earl!” Senior hissed.
“What?”
Beck gestured to the closed door that bore the oppressive coat of arms, “He’s alive!”
Gorby had now heard the peculiar rattling. He put his head to one side and listened. Fearlessly he opened the heavy door and walked in. The twins and Rion peered nervously after him.
“How long has this been going on?” Gorby asked in a remarkably cool manner, Rion thought, for someone standing before a rattling coffin.
“A couple of minutes,” Senior said hurriedly. “We drilled through the bars to see if – ”
Gorby stopped him. “You drilled through the bars?” he boomed, his voice echoing around the small space.
The twins looked at each other nervously.
“Yes,” Senior said almost timidly.
“With what?”
Beck rushed over to the bag in the corner and pulled out the Black & Decker. “With this,” he thrust the miniature powertool at Gorby before running back into the corridor.
“Have you a drill head?” asked Gorby. “Quick!”
Beck glanced at the rattling coffin and weighed up his chances. Crossing himself quickly he dashed back into the vault, grabbed the bag and ran out with it. In the safety of the corridor he pulled out the small pack of attachments. “Found it!” he waved the drill head at Gorby.
“What are you waiting for?” the guard urged.
“Holy Mary Mother of God,” Beck began as he charged over to Gorby. With shaking hands he changed the head on the powertool, all the while reciting the names of saints and the various promises he would keep if they would only let him out of there unharmed. With a final twist Beck secured the drill head and returned it to Gorby.
“Anyone got a match?” Gorby asked.
“He wants a cigarette!” Senior whispered amazed to Beck and Rion. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a box of Swan Vestas which he threw at the guard.
Gorby reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and withdrew a ballpoint pen. He pulled out the ink cartridge with his teeth to leave only the plastic pipe.
Rion looked on agog. “What’s he doing?”
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The guard started up the powertool and began drilling a hole in the coffin. He got through the first layer of wood with ease, the subsequent layer of lead took longer. Finally they saw his hand jerk forward. Gorby quickly removed the drill. He filled the hole it had made in the Earl’s coffin with the barrel of the ballpoint pen.
“Ooooh,” Rion said in disgust. She pinched her fingers over her nose as an overwhelming stench filled the space.
Gorby pulled out the box of matches and struck one on the bars of the vault. As the sulphur ignited he held the flame to the barrel of the pen protruding from the coffin. A whooshing sound was heard as a flare of green and blue flames shot halfway across the room.
Watching from the corridor the twins and Rion jumped back in horror.
The flare grew smaller. The flames changed from their initial colours to a more normal orangey red until with a final gasp they petered out altogether.
It was noticeable that the rattling had stopped.
“It’s ok,” Gorby said, seeing the awestruck expressions staring at him. “This sometimes happens with the older coffins. The gases just build and build until they reach feverpitch. Lead coffins have been known to explode. Imagine,” he looked at Rion and smiled, “what a mess that would cause.”
Gorby gave the drill to Senior, “We need to move.” He looked around the vault, “I feel we’ll have visitors tomorrow.”
Before the guard left he reminded the twins. “Make sure she has something to eat and drink,” he said pointedly. “We don’t want her getting dehydrated,” Gorby winked at the twins who nodded their understanding.
Even after the long drive from Bridlington, the wine and spliffs at dinner, Ollie found he couldn’t sleep. By all rights he should be dog-tired. Hum certainly was. Ollie could hear the hound’s gentle wheezing from deep under the covers. His mind raced back to the vault in the catacombs – who had been in there? Were they still there?
Ollie inched his way out of bed, careful not to disturb Hum from his nest under the blankets and duvet. He dressed quickly, found his torch and tiptoed down the stairs. It crossed his mind to take the dog but in this situation, where stealth might be needed, it was best to let sleeping dogs lie.
Feeling peculiarly defenceless without Hum Ollie avoided the canal. He ambled along Kensal Road, empty at this time of night, to the top of Ladbroke Grove. From the middle of the bridge Ollie looked over the shadowy mass of the cemetery. Remembering Jake’s words he tried the side door adjoining the Dissenters Chapel. He was both relieved and troubled when it opened to his touch.
Now there was no turning back.
Steeling himself Ollie slipped into the cemetery. It wasn’t as scary as he thought it would be. There was no need for the torch. The nearly full moon guided him along a small path by the canal that would, he reckoned, join Terrace Avenue.
Before he got halfway he stopped, his attention taken by the gentle puttering of an engine through the darkness. Moving closer Ollie could see a barge was moored on the cemetery side of the canal just below Rion’s old home. His curiosity piqued he crept forward.
Rion knew when they brought the tea that it would contain something extra. She also knew how she was expected to act had she drunk it. After fifteen minutes the young girl allowed her eyes to blank over and let her limbs fully relax.
The twins soon noticed.
“Give her another while,” Senior said, “then let’s take her down.”
Propped in the Countess’ elaborate chair Rion watched as the twins finished clearing up. They quickly soldered the bars together. After a lick of paint no one would ever know of their misguided attempt at robbery.
Senior stepped back to admire his handiwork. “As good as new eh?”
“Or as old,” replied his twin. “No one’ll come in here for years anyway.”
“Unless the Countess or one of the children should become overly gaseous,” Senior chuckled nervously. “Gorby said he expected a visit though.”
“Well, they won’t find anything will they?”
Senior took a last glance around the vault. “You’d never know we were here.”
“You’d never know she was here.”
Satisfied that no trace of their stay remained Beck pulled Rion to her feet. Acting entranced she was led along the passageways and up through the darkened space of the main chapel.
When they left the building it tested all of Rion’s powers not to jump for joy. By the light of the half-moon everything looked so bright – and so beautiful she thought, feeling a hymn stir in her chest. After the staleness of the catacombs the crisp night air tasted so good! She thought of running there and then until she felt the twins’ arms firmly grip her own.
Behind her blank eyes Rion looked to see where they were taking her. She tried not to show her excitement when they went down towards her old home on the canal, down past Jake’s!
As they trudged on the side of the muddy track, Rion flopping zombielike between the twins, she looked for the most opportune moment. She seized her chance where the track veered towards the hidden house in the trees.
In a burst of strength Rion struggled to free herself. “Jake!” she screamed, “Jake!”
Although caught unawares Senior and Beck quickly overpowered the young girl.
Rion wasn’t able to call out a third time. Beck’s hand over her mouth, suffocatingly close to her nose made sure of that. Still struggling she was hurried along the track, past the neglected graves and through the hole in the railings.
Ollie froze. It was Rion! He was about to move from his hiding place when he heard muffled curses nearby. He watched as two men carried Rion to the waiting narrowboat. The young girl kicked and scratched but was no match for the strength of the twins.
Ollie waited until all was quiet. The last thing he heard was a sound behind him. And then nothing.
The twins weren’t happy.
“What d’ye bring him for?” Senior asked.
“He knows the girl.”
“Finish him off. Leave him here,” Beck said.
Senior agreed, “Who’s going to look for a body in a cemetery?”
But Gorby had other plans. He carried the unwelcome visitor aboard. As they cast off Ollie lay crumpled on the floor of the wheelhouse, neither in this world nor the next.
They had stopped within the hour. Above them a junction of the M4 curved in the darkness.
“This’ll do. Tie up,” Gorby ordered.
The twins did as they were told.
Ollie was still dead to the world. He didn’t so much as groan as Gorby pulled him from the floor, slung him over his shoulders and carried him from the barge. “I won’t be long.”
Gorby trudged up the winding concrete steps. He carried Ollie over his shoulders as a fireman might carry someone from a burning building.
But Gorby wasn’t going to be saving anyone’s life tonight.
The guard slowly made his way above the tunnels and deserted underpass. He was breathing heavily by the time he came to the upper level. The motorway was quiet at this hour. All that could be heard was a distant rumble as juggernauts raced each other through the night. Gorby placed Ollie in the middle of the nearside lane. Powerful headlights bore down on them from the distance.
Perfect. Crushed beneath an 18-wheeler the young man would be unrecognisable.
And impossible to identify.
28
WARNING SIGNS
“This had better be good,” Inspector Devine said to Nicky as they pulled up in front of the Anglican Chapel in the middle of Kensal Green Cemetery.
“Something is definitely going on down there. We felt it yesterday.”
“I can’t act on feelings.”
“But you can tell from their faces, it was something really suspicious!”
“So suspicious that Mr Michaelson couldn’t be bothered to show up?”
Nicky also wondered where Ollie was. It was most unlike him not to be here. Even more unlike him to leave Hum alone.
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“I’ve got better things to do as well you know. I’m only doing this as a favour to Em – ” he quickly corrected himself, “to Ms Nelson. Don’t make me regret it.”
The door on the side of the chapel was open for once. The Inspector gave a polite knock.
Oh God, Nicky thought, he’s not going to say ‘ello ‘ello ‘ello is he?
Before her fears could be confirmed or otherwise, a woman’s voice cheerily trilled, “Come in!”
The Inspector pushed the door open and led the way into a cold, rather dismal office, a colourful print of Picasso’s L’Arlequin doing little to brighten the space.
A woman looked up from behind the desk. She had a kindly, plump face and glasses that were too big for her. Her tweed jacket, faded and worn, was the sort favoured by great aunts in the country – a breed to which she no doubt belonged. In front of her was a postcard rack crammed with black and white images of some of the cemetery’s more famous monuments.
There was something curiously familiar about the woman although Nicky didn’t think she had seen her before.
“Can I help you Superintendent?”
Auntie Em’s tame policeman coughed slightly to clear his throat. “It’s Inspector actually Madam,” he flashed his badge at her. “Inspector Devine, Notting Hill Police Station.”
The woman toyed with the double strand of fake pearls around her neck. She put her head to one side in what Nicky hoped was not a coquettish manner. “Inspector,” she deferred.
It was! She was flirting with Inspector Devine.
The woman came out from behind the desk. Her skirt, of the same tweed as her jacket, stopped just below the knee to reveal calves of a surprising thickness.
“I’m sorry to trouble you Madam it’s just – ” the policeman stretched his neck from side to side as if this would ease his discomfort, “ – we’ve had reports of odd goings on in the catacombs.”
The woman opened her eyes wide. “Really?” she said, clutching her pearls in alarm. “What sort of goings on?”
“That’s just it Madam,” the policeman again cleared his throat to try and cover his embarrassment. “We’re not exactly sure but if we could have a quick look?”
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