Austerley & Kirgordon Adventures Box Set

by G R Jordan

  The walk turned into a hike up a familiar hill. In the dark the place seemed to have more foreboding, but Gibbet Point was lit up postcard-fashion by the moon, which also set the water of the bay shimmering. Tania sat down on the grass overlooking the bay and tapped the ground for Kirkgordon to join her. He did so, leaving a small gap between them which Tania quickly closed. As she looked up into his face, Kirkgordon noticed the necklace with the symbol Austerley had mentioned. His partner’s warning came back to him.

  “Do you know what this place is?” asked Tania.

  “Actually I do. ’Cause I’m a regular history guru.”

  “Go on then, Mr Schama, tell me all,” laughed Tania.

  “Well, there was this pirate fella who thought he should run the place after coming back from plundering afield. However, the locals said ‘No way, Jose’ and he attacked them. Lots of people died and he was taken but made a pact with the devil for revenge. Have I got it straight?”

  Tania laughed. “Someone tell Mr Schama his job is safe!” Reaching up behind his head, she stroked his neck gently. “You seem to have missed out the love aspect.”

  “Oh. Power, greed, slaughter and devil worship but there’s a love interest? Sounds intriguing.”

  “Listen, Mr Sceptical. There’s more romance in this dead pirate than there is in you.”

  “Go on then, prove it.”

  “Well,” said Tania, “when he came back from his travels, he had a wife from the Caribbean. They said she was a black beauty with eyes of fire and long dark flowing curls. Some said she was over a hundred years old but had made a deal with the Evil One to keep her youth. She was full of black magic and power, capable of seducing anyone in her path. One of the reasons the townsfolk didn’t like Captain Smith returning was that his new bride would dance on board the deck of the ship in full view of the town.”

  “That seems to be a bit much, being against someone for dancing. There was film back in the eighties where a whole town was against dancing but this young lad took some of the other young people across the state border and—”

  “It wasn’t the dancing. You are such an idiot. And how am I going to know about some eighties film?”

  “It’s a very good film, actually.”

  “I don’t care,” laughed Tania. “Listen, when she danced, she danced naked, sacrificing animals.”

  “Ah, now that’s just unsociable.”

  “Oi!” Tania elbowed Kirkgordon in the ribs. “Shut up and listen.”

  “Listening, ma’am.” Kirkgordon rubbed some sore ribs.

  “Good. Now, the townsfolk, on seeing this, grabbed her one night and burned her as a witch. The ashes sank into the ground after some heavy rain and they say her soul still inhabits the area. That was why he attacked the village. They took his love and so he demanded revenge.”

  “Tania, I have to be honest and say never write a romance book, ’cause it isn’t going to sell,” laughed Kirkgordon. She dived at him, knocked him to the ground and clambered on top.

  “Let’s have some fun,” said Tania.

  “This is fun.”

  “No, real fun. Fancy a skinny dip?”

  Part of Kirkgordon screamed yes but another part knew this was crazy – not the actions of a man trying to get back with his wife. Caught in two minds, he prayed for an escape. He felt his phone vibrating. “My phone’s buzzing, Tania. Sorry, at this time of night I really need to check it. It must be important.”

  Sighing, Tania rolled off. “Probably just an update for your calendar,” she muttered.

  Kirkgordon pressed the screen on and saw a text message: Mr Austerley in hysterics. Please come. Come quick.

  “Tania, it’s Indy. Sounds like he’s wrecking the joint. I need to get back to the care home.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “There’s no need. I can cope.”

  “Hey, he’s my patient too.” She took Kirkgordon by the hand and started to race down the hill. As they made their way back down the hill, Kirkgordon wondered how he got himself into these positions. Why do I let myself get so close to the fire? I tell Austerley to back off the occult but I keep getting dragged in by women. Although Alana would question the word “dragged”.

  Racing into the town, they found a taxi to take them to the care home. The drive was short but Kirkgordon noticed that Tania insisted on holding his hand. He made sure they parted hands on leaving the taxi. There were lights on in the entrance and Graham was in a panic at the front desk.

  “Mr Kirkgordon! Good, I was just about to call the police. He’s very violent. Got the whole place awake.”

  “Ah, bollocks,” said Kirkgordon. He recognized the results of an Austerley nightmare. Having babysat him for over a month now, he was used to the reactions. However, they had been less frequent recently and Kirkgordon had hoped they were gone.

  He tore down the corridor, Tania racing behind with Graham bringing up the rear in a loud chequered shirt. On entering Austerley’s room, Kirkgordon saw Austerley, dressed in only a pair of boxers, on his single foot delivering a right hook to Clive’s jaw.

  “Enough!” shouted Kirkgordon and strode forward, picking Austerley up by the throat and driving him back to the bed. He stared into Austerley’s eyes and shouted, “You’re not in trouble. It’s safe. No dragons. Farthington is not here. He’s gone, Austerley. Gone! Calm down. Calm! Now! Calm.”

  Austerley’s eyes were wide and uncomprehending but under Kirkgordon’s influence he started to unwind. Gradually he looked around, assuring himself of his location. Finally at peace, he stared at the others in the room.

  “What the hell do they want?” asked Austerley.

  “Everyone leave, please,” ordered Kirkgordon. “Just leave. You too, Tania, thanks. Everyone, thank you, just leave and close the door. It’s okay, I have this.” When he was sure everyone had left, Kirkgordon turned to face Austerley again and released the grip on his throat. “You okay?”

  “Bloody magic. Give me my dressing gown. And some water too.”

  “Yes, your majesty,” whispered Kirkgordon to himself and turned to retrieve the items. Once Austerley was dressed and sitting up, Kirkgordon started the questioning.

  “Was it Farthington again?” Farthington was the dragon that had ripped off Austerley’s foot. The incident had left Austerley with recurrent nightmares.

  “Yes. Well, mostly.”

  “Mostly? Not all, then?”

  Austerley shook his head.

  “What else?”

  “A cage. A round one, tall enough for a human. Swinging in the wind.”

  Kirkgordon nodded. It was best not to question why at this point, but to let Austerley recount the details in his own time.

  “Do you remember that programme?” Austerley continued. “Dahl, the children’s writer. His stories. Tales of something.”

  “The unexpected.”

  “Yes, that’s it. But not any of the stories. Just the start. I can see the start of it.”

  As Kirkgordon recalled, the start was a woman dancing in silhouette with not much on.

  “That it?”

  “I think so. Are there any sleeping tablets?” asked Austerley.

  “Yeah.” Kirkgordon searched in Austerley’s belongings and threw him some tablets.

  “That’s a double dose.”

  “Yeah,” answered Kirkgordon.

  Austerley dropped the tablets with a glass of water and lay down on the bed. Taking a chair in the corner of the room, Kirkgordon watched his partner fall asleep. He knew not to fall asleep himself or he would end up waking in the chair, sore and groggy, in a couple of hours. As he watched Austerley drop into a deep sleep, the wounded leg seemed to stare at Kirkgordon. He had seen amputees before, in Sierra Leone when he had worked for a client, but this was a wound he had caused. The stump was just there, reminding him of that fateful arrow, his arrow, pinning Austerley to the platform that had collapsed. He could still see Farthington, the dragon, separating foot from leg with one
of his three heads. And though Havers had told him on many occasions that Kirkgordon had done the right and necessary thing, it still didn’t take the guilt away.

  There was a knock at the door. It opened and Tania came into view. With a single finger, she beckoned Kirkgordon out of the room. He found it hard to deny that he enjoyed the intrusion.

  “Just wondered if you wanted a more comfortable bed,” whispered Tania.

  She’s certainly forward, thought Kirkgordon. “I really need to be near, Tania. It’s just that he often gets reoccurrences. It wouldn’t be doing to be otherwise occupied when one of the dreams come. He had been a week without an episode but this last one wasn’t so good.”

  Tania was smiling up at him. “I wasn’t offering any sporting activities. There’s a rest room, for the nurses, with beds. Just thought it might be more comfortable than that chair in there.”

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

  “It’s okay. It has been good. And I like you a lot for an oldie, but it takes a while before I climb into bed with someone. But don’t panic. You’re still on the possible list.” She reached up and kissed his cheek before turning and walking away. He looked her up and down, thinking how much he liked scrubs, before realizing how close he had been to falling into Tania’s arms.

  It doesn’t do to be too far from Alana, thought Kirkgordon.

  To avoid the awkward subject of his own failings as a husband and father, he ran through the things he still had to do in Dillingham. Oh yes, contact Havers for Austerley to get that book. Still, I can do that in the morning. No, sod it, let’s wake the bugger up. After all, he’s always manipulating us.

  Courage failed Kirkgordon and he ended up walking to the car park to send a text to Havers instead. The night air was cold now as it was shortly about to catch the morning, and Kirkgordon found it refreshing. For a few moments he closed his eyes, listened to the quiet rustling of the few creatures on the move and took in the breeze tingling his wet lips. Some sort of paradise, he thought. Then his mobile phone vibrated.

  “It’s 4 am, who the hell’s this?” asked Kirkgordon to the disturber of his peace.

  “Ah, Mr Kirkgordon. Good to see you are not resting on your laurels. Major Havers speaking and, as I recall, you are the one who sent me a text message requesting a certain item.”

  “Do you sleep, Havers?”

  “Do you, Mr Kirkgordon?”

  “Okay, touché.”

  “Please tell Mr Austerley I shall obtain his book at once and deliver it to him by the fastest possible method. Do tell me, Mr Kirkgordon, is Mr Austerley faring well?”

  “Well, he’s just had one of the attacks, Havers. Quite bad by recent standards, too. Actually smacked one of the nurses.”

  “What was the subject of the nightmare?”

  “Usual suspect. Farthington ripping his foot off and that. But there were a few new elements. A swinging cage and some nude dancing chick in silhouette.”

  “Anything else?” Havers sounded worried.

  “No. Expecting extras, were you?”

  “Keep your wits about you, Mr Kirkgordon. Mr Austerley is, as you know, receptive. New dreams always give cause for concern. But I shall depart now as I have a plane to catch.” There was a whirring sound in the background, loud like a fierce wind.

  “Are you on a plane?”

  “Not quite yet, Mr Kirkgordon, but my library books are overdue. Be vigilant.” And the line went dead.

  Aw, crap, thought Kirkgordon, Havers never says things in jest. I’m tired, at the dry end of a few pints and about to babysit the mad end of an occult receiver. The only positive thing is a young girl who says I’m on her “to bed” list. And that’s a positive I really need to avoid. I just love my job.

  Father Jonah

  It might seem strange to some people, thought Kirkgordon, but I need to go to church today. He remembered the look Austerley had given him and the snide comment about Tania as he had left the room. I probably deserved that one. Why did people always think you had to be perfect to go to church? Anyway, that’s up to them, not me. Kirkgordon knew his God had been there on that island even though the events hadn’t been pleasant.

  The morning was bright and fresh after a little clearing rain and the birdsong complemented the smell of the oak trees, their leaves dripping. The sun was still cool, and Kirkgordon felt refreshed as he walked. Tired, oh yes, very tired, but refreshed. His mind wandered back to a day the previous week when he had been holding his son in his arms before letting him loose on the public play park, and he wondered why it couldn’t be like that all the time. His son didn’t know his Dad fought with demons from parts of the skies unseen by human eyes. And, thankfully, the boy had never met Austerley.

  St Jude’s was a modest grey building. It had the obligatory steeple but also a modern building attached at the side. Although this building was dark now, Kirkgordon could see tables, chairs and a large sign telling folks to “come on in for rest, prayer and a fill-up”. Come to think of it, he could do with a decent meal. He hadn’t had any breakfast and last night’s beer had left him hungry. But 9:30 am for a service? Day of rest, wasn’t it?

  After shaking hands with an elderly gentleman in the entrance vestibule, Kirkgordon took a prayer book and hymnal and sat down three rows from the back. There were in the region of thirty other people there. A greying priest, in quite reserved garb for an Anglican, emerged from the rear along with a posse containing three choirboys and a junior. The priest, who was a good six inches smaller than Kirkgordon, nodded knowingly as he passed by. As the priest reached the front of the main aisle, another man sat down beside Kirkgordon.

  Kirkgordon buckled at the smell coming from the man. I know that smell, thought Kirkgordon. That’s horse shit, genuine manure. Wearing a dirty, blackened overcoat and worn-through jeans, the man – Kirkgordon assumed he was a tramp – coughed loudly. Some of the spittle landed on Kirkgordon’s knee. The tramp placed a yellow plastic bag on the floor and proceeded to pick his nose with total abandon. Out of the corner of his eye, Kirkgordon could see a matted beard and missing teeth. And eyes that resonated wariness.

  After a moment, Kirkgordon realized that the eyes were out of place. Damn he’s good, thought Kirkgordon. I’m six inches off his face or I wouldn’t have got it. Total pro, he’s a total pro. But if he’s here, we are really in trouble.

  “Is that his book?” whispered Kirkgordon.

  The tramp nodded gently.

  “You smell like crap.”

  “The manure is genuine, Mr Kirkgordon. You are being watched, so don’t pick up the book. I’ll leave it behind for the priest to find. Make sure you stop and chat with him today. They’re pretty modern for Anglicans, here. Coffee and doughnuts after the service.” The tramp – or, more correctly, Austerley and Kirkgordon’s boss, Havers – spoke in barely audible tones. Every now and then he would break into a deep, chesty cough and spit on the ground. It certainly gave the pair of them a great deal of room.

  Havers stayed for the whole church service, playing the part of the tramp incredibly well. On leaving, he even managed to fall into the arms of a rather snooty lady with a large bonnet. Kirkgordon chuckled to himself as he watched her try to appear Christian, feigning help for the tramp while keeping as great a distance as possible. Having taken a moment to let Havers leave, Kirkgordon was the last person to exit the nave and shake hands with the priest.

  “Thank you, vicar, nice service,” ventured Kirkgordon.

  “Why, thank you Mr…?” asked the priest.

  “Kirkgordon. All one word. All one surname. Seems to cause some confusion round here.”

  “Scottish name, you see. Not used to that sort of name round here. Bit too far south.” The priest’s voice was laboured, like he was struggling with the delivery of the words rather than the thought processes. His eyes looked glassy, roaming without ever finding a target, almost as if they were redundant while his mind worked on weightier things.

  “Well, I’
m not from round here. Just babysitting a friend at the care home.”

  “Oh dear, is your friend alright?” asked the priest.

  How do I put this, thought Kirkgordon? He’s about to get a prosthetic because I shot him in the foot with an arrow while trying to kill him to prevent him from summoning a demon and then a three-headed dragon ripped his ankle apart. “He’s getting a new foot after a serious accident,” he said.

  “Sorry to hear that. I’m Father Jonah, Mr Kirkgordon, but I’m often known as olhos dos outros to my friends. Ohlos for short. But where are my manners? Come back to the manse for dinner. My daughter is an excellent cook. I bet you enjoy mussels, Mr Kirkgordon.”

  Kirkgordon knew that he was to receive the book from the priest but as nothing was forthcoming yet he decided he had better stick close. Besides, it gave him an excuse to be away from Austerley.

  After retiring for a short time, Father Jonah returned, dressed in a white monk’s habit complete with cord belt. The old man must have clocked Kirkgordon’s strange looks because he explained that he had been a monk before God had led him into service with this particular church.

  “Just as all my troubles seemed to have reached a head, I was finally able to see the way,” he said.

  Kirkgordon nodded politely but was feeling a little uncomfortable. This was one rather kooky individual.

  Leading Kirkgordon to the back of the church, Father Jonah pointed to a red motorcycle, announcing it as their mode of transport. He threw over a helmet with a cross motif on it. Over the priest’s habit he threw on a motorcycle jacket displaying a message of the grace of heaven. Kirkgordon felt he was riding with the holiest of Hell’s Angels except for the strict adherence to the speed limit. It was not long before he recognized the route.

  The care home came into sight and the priest rode easily into the car park, stopping right in front of the main entrance. Without a word, he reached inside his habit and handed Kirkgordon the yellow packet Havers had left behind.