Whispers in the Rigging

by steve higgs

  ‘Shall we continue with the bins?’ I asked as I grabbed the wheelie bin again and started pushing it toward the station of bins I could see in the distance.

  ‘I should, ah. I should wait for Anyanka.’ Said Anna, then thought better of it. ‘Maybe I should check on her actually. Make sure she is alright.’ Clearly, she had struck out with me and fancied her chances elsewhere.

  Fine by me. As she hurried in the direction Anyanka and Big Ben had gone, I revelled in finally being alone. I checked my watch: 2022hrs. It was dark near the water, but the floodlights I had seen during my earlier visit were still on, bathing the Dockyard in pools of bright light. I figured I could bluff that I was looking for a toilet if anyone wanted to know why I had wandered off, so I abandoned the wheelie bin, orientated myself against the map in my head and started jogging toward the rigging room.

  Whispers in the Rigging Room. Monday, November 21st 2031hrs

  I was being careful not to make any noise as my feet hit the cobbles, a task made easier by wearing an old, soft pair of trainers. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself and knew that if I was a security guard at night, I would react to the sound of a person running.

  My stealthy movements would also allow me to hear others who were not trying to mask their progress. I could hear women chatting and laughing around the corner ahead of me as I approached it. I paused, checked around the corner and crossed between buildings while they were not looking my way. I had covered more than half the distance to the rigging room but had not yet seen any security guards. Perhaps they considered the site to be safe and were more relaxed than I expected. It could be that they were all hiding in the warm somewhere.

  I reached the rigging room and slipped inside. The lights were off inside the long, thin room suiting my intentions perfectly. Light pouring through the windows from the flood lights outside provided enough illumination to see by and plenty of shadows for me sneak through.

  No doubt it was set to be cleaned at some point this evening, the crew assigned to it on other tasks first. Alan had said there were whispers in the rigging room, which was cryptic and non-specific, but I had to acknowledge that those two things were my wheelhouse – an area where I generally operated.

  Creeping through the room, dodging around ancient wooden equipment and stacks of rope positioned to give the visitors the look and feel of the room when it was in use a few hundred years ago, I could detect no noise. It was a long room though, so if I was listening for whispers, I should expect them to be hard to hear.

  Every few yards I stopped to listen, stilling my breathing to prevent it interfering. Several minutes had elapsed when I judged I was over half way and then I heard it.

  I froze on the spot, straining my senses. Nothing. Then it came again, a murmur of human speech too faint to understand. I turned slowly in place trying to pinpoint the direction it was coming from. Down the centre of the room ran what was essentially a raised table on which the rope was worked, the vast lengths required to rig a boat needing to be completely laid out in order that connections could be made at appropriate points along it. I climbed over it now to the other side in search of the noise.

  The voices were intermittent which made them far harder to find and my paranoia was telling me I had already taken too long on this task and was going to be missed soon. I was committed though, the noise I could hear was part of this mystery.

  It sounded like an echo. The realisation that the garbled sound I could hear had a certain quality I associated with being underground put me on all fours on the floorboards. I began crawling around the floor, moving a few feet and pausing to listen, then repeating the motion, each time waiting for the noise before moving again.

  It was coming from more than one place. It had to be and that was why I couldn’t pinpoint it, then as I moved forward, I caught the whispered voice right by my ear. It was coming from a pipe.

  I turned to face it and sat on the floorboards to inspect what I had found. There was a pipe coming out of the floor. To the touch it felt like it was made of lead, which made sense given the age of everything here. It rose to a height of about three feet and was tucked between wooden boxes that might have been built as tool chests or part stores but were fixed to the floorboards. They did a great job of concealing the pipe which was probably easy to see if the lights were on and all but impossible without.

  I placed my ear over the hole to listen and was rewarded moments later by more voices drifting out of it. Even with the sound going directly into my ear I still couldn’t make out what I was hearing.

  I sat back to consider what this told me. The first answer was that there was something beneath the Dockyard. Was there a cellar underneath the rigging room and all I could hear was a couple of guards playing cards where they thought they would never get caught? Or was it more than that?

  I checked my watch again. Too much time had gone by for me to hang around any longer or to begin searching now for a way into whatever was beneath me. Maybe I would be able to slip away again later.

  At a slow jog, I made my way back along the room to the door I had come in through and made my way back to the wheelie bin.

  Ghosts. Monday, November 21st 2105hrs

  I found Big Ben and the girls not far from where I had left them. Anyanka’s hair had a dishevelled look to it that I made no comment about.

  ‘Ah, there he is.’ Said Big Ben as I came into view. ‘I had to tell the girls about your weak sphincter muscle from too much getting it hard from hairy men and how it means you have to go the toilet more often because things just won’t stay inside.’

  He was trying not to grin because he knew I couldn’t disagree without exposing the lie but was failing as he smirked at his own humour. All three of them were looking at me, waiting for me to say something.

  ‘Yes. Sorry about that. I had a… call of nature.’ Anna patted my arm.

  Big Ben gave the wheelie bin a shove and we set off again, my toilet troubles put to one side thankfully. I moved to help Big Ben push the bin and so I could quietly speak with him.

  ‘I thought the plan was to leave them doing something indoors, so we had more freedom of movement?’ I whispered.

  ‘It is. On our list of places to clean is a gallery down by the water beyond the ships. We are heading there now. Anyanka said it would take them half an hour to hoover and dust by which time she expected you and I to have finished emptying all the bins. She is a bit bossy actually.’

  I looked at him, waiting for him to expand on the last sentence.

  ‘Yeah, she was shouting instructions at me the whole time. Harder. Faster. Grab my hips. I think she likes that she is in charge of us here and gets to tell me what to do.’

  ‘Okay.’ I didn’t really need to hear how she liked it. ‘Did you find time to quiz her about anything more pertinent to our current investigation?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I asked her about the ghosts and whether she had seen them. Her response was that she hadn’t but that lots of others had and that she had seen a lot of new faces in the last few weeks because the cleaners were getting scared and leaving. She also remarked that she was surprised Julia Jones had hired us. Everyone else employed in the recent weeks has been Ukrainian.’

  ‘Yes, there is a distinct Ukrainian theme here. I want to believe there is something to that.’

  We stopped at another set of bins. They were full of the day’s detritus. Empty cans and plastic bottles and a broken umbrella. It all went into the wheelie bin as the girls reloaded the bins with fresh plastic bag liners.

  After just one more stop to empty bins we arrived at the gallery. Anyanka pulled out her bunch of keys, sorted her way through them and, finding the right one, opened the door.

  As the lights came on and Anna went inside, Anyanka gave Big Ben and me instructions and a thirty-minute deadline for getting the rest of the bins empty. She sure was bossy. It suited me though, we needed to sneak off and look around unte
thered to our Ukrainian chaperones, and now we could.

  ‘What do we do about the bins?’ Big Ben asked as we wheeled the heavy bin away at speed. I had the map in one hand and no intention of wasting much time doing what we were expected to do.

  ‘Grab a few as we pass them, lose the map and if anyone even notices that some weren’t emptied, we claim we couldn’t find all the bins. I am not concerned about keeping this job beyond the next couple of days.’

  ‘So where are we heading?’

  We were jogging with the wheelie bin between us, pushing it along the cobbled street at the best speed we could manage and being rewarded with vibrations juddering all the way up our arms to our skulls as it skipped across the uneven surface.

  ‘I found voices coming through a pipe in the rigging room. I think there is a room beneath it, so that is where we are going. Something is going on here. Under normal circumstances I would have no interest, but…’

  ‘Someone hurt Mr Michaels senior and we have a judicious slap or two to hand out.’ Big Ben completed my sentence.

  ‘Something like that.’

  I felt the bin drag suddenly, it’s resistance to forward motion markedly increased as Big Ben deliberately slowed it. He had spotted or heard someone. With a nod of my head we aimed our trajectory at a bin station just to our left and were pulling the full bags out of them as a pair of guards rounded the corner ahead of us.

  ‘I saw their shadows.’ Big Ben said quietly as he threw them a wave.

  Neither man returned the gesture as they eyed us. They were both large men, all the Ukrainian guards were as if they had kidnapped a bodybuilding team. The two Daves contrasted this by having skinny arms and tubby bellies.

  The one on the right spoke into a lapel microphone without taking his eyes off us. Then the pair backed away, disappearing around the corner without breaking eye contact.

  Big Ben said, ‘That was odd.’

  I nodded. ‘Let’s move.’

  The bin got abandoned. We could come back for it later. It had seemed as if the guard were looking for us and had then reported our location to someone else. Not staying where we were was the only prudent course of action. We stayed stealthy though, keeping to the shadows and making as little noise as possible.

  Our dash to the rigging room took two minutes as we tried to make sure we were not seen. When we got there though we began a search of the building’s exterior. It would have been safer to stick together, but the two-hundred-yard-long building would take too long to inspect that way, so we split at the first corner. I instantly regretted not bringing radios with me, I had them in the office sitting idle. It was too late now though.

  Big Ben had gone right as I went left, which placed me on the lee side of the building away from the river and in the dark as this portion of the yard wasn’t floodlit. I was looking for a door, a ramp leading down, an obvious manhole cover, anything that might indicate a way into the room I believed was beneath my feet somewhere. Halfway down my side of the building, I had still not found anything that wasn’t solid cobblestones and judged that I had gone further than the point where I found the pipes inside.

  Another minute later I reached the end of the building and turned the corner at the far end. As I stepped back into the floodlit area, Big Ben rounded the corner opposite me.

  ‘Anything?’ I asked.

  He shook his head. Okay, nothing so far. I quelled my annoyance and checked my watch: 2117hrs. Anyanka’s deadline was fast approaching, and we had emptied only two bins. It was not something I cared about but I would need her to believe we were trustworthy, so we could ditch them again later or tomorrow or the night after that.

  I clapped Big Ben on the shoulder. ‘Let’s get back.’

  Silently we fell into pace, side by side as we began jogging back to collect the wheelie bin. We didn’t get far though. About halfway back to where we had abandoned our cleaning duties, what I could only describe as an apparition appeared in front of us.

  It was there one moment and then it was gone. It was a hundred yards ahead of us but we both saw it, and both knew what it represented. It hadn’t been visible for long, though it was long enough for us to see the horrifying death mask of a face beneath the ornate navy-blue bicorne hat. It looked right at us, its lips drawn back in rigor to reveal its teeth. It also had the misty quality that Dave Saunders had described. It was grey where it should have colour, but I couldn’t see through it.

  We paused, both momentarily frozen by what we had seen but before we could react it appeared again. This time closer and began coming toward us. From between its lips a rasping moan escaped.

  It was quite terrifying.

  Big Ben laughed. ‘That thing actually looks real.’ He said.

  I nodded my agreement. ‘Yeah. Let’s get it.’

  It was right ahead of us on our way back to the river front and the gallery where we had left Anyanka and Anna, so we started running toward it. As I expected, the pace of the advancing apparition faltered, then slowed to a gradual halt. Then it vanished.

  My brain didn’t like that it had just vanished and was questioning why I was still running toward the dead sailor. Neither one of us slowed our pace though, reaching the spot we had last seen it only a few seconds later to discover that it hadn’t vanished, it had stepped into a shadow and then ducked down another alley way. Lord knows the Dockyard is littered with narrow alleyways that run between the buildings. They had been designed with foot traffic in mind at a time when even a bicycle would have been a feat of engineering genius.

  ‘Hey!’

  Big Ben and I had been about to explore the alley to see how far the ghost had gone or if there were an open door it could have slipped through to escape when Pasha’s voice rang out. It carried in the dark where this close to the water there were very few sounds to compete with it.

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’

  Big Ben turned to speak with her as she approached across the cobbles looking angry. ‘There was a ghost, angel.’ He said.

  ‘Was it emptying the bins?’ She snapped back at him. ‘They won’t empty themselves, you know?’

  ‘Where are the two stupid women I left you with?’

  Big Ben looked confused. Girls don’t usually have questions for him to answer. Unless perhaps the question is: How do you want to do me? Instead, especially after he has given them the best shag of their life – his opinion not mine, they remain eternally grateful.

  As his lips moved and no noise came out, I answered instead. ‘Hi, Pasha. We saw a ghost, or what was supposed to be a ghost. It went down here so we were following it.’

  ‘Why?’ She asked. It seemed to be a reasonable question. Pasha came to a stop in front of us with her hands on her hips in clear frustration. ‘You have work to do. Chasing ghosts is not what you are being paid for.’

  ‘Haven’t ghosts scared away most of the staff? Are they not a problem that needs to be resolved?’

  She eyed me suspiciously for a moment. ‘Wait. You’re telling me that you really saw a ghost?’ Her eyes widened slightly, then her brow knitted again. She didn’t believe us. ‘If you saw a ghost, what did it look like?’

  ‘Like an 18th century Royal Navy 1st Lieutenant. Gold brocade to the epaulettes, bicorne hat, white stockings. It looked very dead.’

  Now her eyes widened again. I guess it matched with the description she had heard from other people. ‘Why on earth would you chase it? Everyone else has run away terrified.’

  ‘We don’t scare that easily.’ Big Ben answered. Then he stepped forward and took her right hand in both of his. He gave her his best smouldering look as he gently said, ‘Kitten, you didn’t really come looking for me to ask me about the bins, now did you? Wouldn’t you rather help me have this place renamed the Dickyard?’ He was turning the charm on. For him it was a tactic that rarely missed.

  Pasha was immune though. ‘I have a boyfriend and he is super badass and would beat the crap out of you so don’t go getting any id
eas.’

  Big Ben replied, ‘Babe, I never have any ideas.’

  Stunned silence. Her mouth twitched in a smile and I couldn’t tell if Big Ben had made himself sound stupid by accident or on purpose. She considered his reply for a moment then turned on her heel to start walking away. ‘Come on, morons, you still have work to do. I will escort you back to Anyanka and Anna. I want a word with them about their diligence. You can stay late to finish emptying the bins.’

  I wanted to see where the ghost could have gone but couldn’t see a way of ditching the girls again immediately without raising suspicion or directly disobeying Pasha who seemed likely to fire us both if we gave her the slightest reason to. I only needed the job for a few days. I could suck it up that long. Tomorrow in the daylight I could explore again. It would be easier to look around then.

  As we followed Pasha back to the gallery, Big Ben had a question for me. ‘Did you see its teeth?’ He asked meaning the ghost.

  It wasn’t just me then. He had seen it too. ‘Yeah. Bright, pearly whites and it had a very convincing shadow too.’

  A Late Start. Tuesday, November 22nd 0912hrs

  It had been just before 0300hrs when I got home. The dogs were already in the house as was the normal practice for Mrs Comerforth. She had a key and would let them back into my place as she went to bed. I had been too tired to stay up to fuss and pet them, and they had not seemed all that interested in being awake. Instead, I had lifted them onto the bed and had them curl into me for comfort – theirs and mine.

  They were still there when I awoke, two gently snoring warm lumps in the duvet that showed no sign of wanting to rise even though I had given myself a late start.

  The lazy hour was more to do with the knowledge that I was going to be back at the dockyard until late again tonight than it was to do with being tired. I had applied the soldier’s rule of sleep when you can because you never know when you might next get some.