by Hatchett
“Did he win?” Ernie asked.
“Did who win?” Mollie asked, confused.
“Frank Bruno of course!” Ernie stated. “I had a bet on him.”
“I don’t know Ernie. Look, we’ve got to go so you get yourself off home, alright?”
Ernie didn’t respond so Mollie and Adam moved away.
Ernie watched them go, smiling inwardly and thinking ‘stupid bastards’.
12
Day 20 – 15:30
New Eden
“So, what now?” Adam asked, as they walked away from Ernie back to their group in the centre circle.
“Now, we go see the Reverend and see what he wants to do,” Mollie replied. “I can’t say I’m looking forward to facing the music.”
They picked up the rest of the Enforcers and headed back towards the High Street. Mollie was pleased to see that they already had people sitting in plain sight watching the Hunter’s Arms.
As they passed one of the scouts sitting opposite the front door to the building, she asked if there was anything to report and got a shake of the head from the woman in response.
Mollie and the group walked down the High Street, passing the weather-worn and abandoned Tourist Information Centre, Oxfam and various other local shops. They took a right at Church Street and headed towards St Bartholomew’s Church at the far end, but just before the end they veered left at Church Square and headed along a sixty-metre driveway with manicured lawns on either side towards Corsham Court.
Corsham Court, with its large flowing gardens and adjoining park, was a stately home built in 1582, although a house existed on the plot as early as 978. The artist, Sir Paul Methuen took ownership in 1747 and over the following centuries his heirs redesigned the building a number of times using different architects, including Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown in the 1760’s.
In recent times it had been open to the public to view its extensive art collection and had around two thousand five hundred acres of land and a significant property portfolio which included some farms and a number of the High Street shops and offices.
Two weeks earlier, the Reverend had commandeered the buildings and grounds as his own personal residence and the previous owners had mysteriously disappeared.
The Reverend felt the buildings and grounds reflected his stature and standing in the community, and the fact that it was so close to the Church was ideal as it allowed the Reverend to conduct the odd fire and brimstone sermon to his idolising flock without having to walk very far.
Mollie and the Enforcers walked towards the front steps, the East and West wings of the building bearing down on them from both sides. They climbed the steps and went through the double doors at the top, which had been opened on their approach by a couple of Underlings. Once inside the massive and ornate hall, Mollie and Adam veered left towards the Reverend’s study while the rest of the group headed straight for the drawing room where refreshments would be available.
Mollie found herself sweating as she approached the heavy study door wondering, not for the first time, how she had managed to earn the Reverend’s good graces and lose them again within a few short hours.
She rapped sharply on the door three times in quick succession with her knuckles, praying silently that the Reverend wasn’t there.
“Come!” came the muffled response from inside the room and Mollie’s heartbeat quickened.
She placed a shaky hand on the doorknob, slowly turned it and entered, unnecessarily holding the door open for Adam to follow.
“Ah, Mollie. Just the person,” the Reverend addressed her, sitting behind his large mahogany desk and looking up above a pile of papers he had been scrutinising. “And Adam,” he smiled like a shark, as he took off his designer spectacles and placed them in front of him.
He didn’t offer them a seat.
The study was large, at least five metres by five metres with a deep red and green patterned carpet and wall to wall mahogany bookcases, filled with old leather-bound books gathering dust. Light came in from the three floor-to-ceiling windows, two to the side and one directly behind the Reverend’s chair.
The Reverend was dressed in an all-black tailored suit as was his norm, with his black shirt open at the collar. He was somewhere in his late sixties with a gaunt face and artificially darkened hair. At five feet four inches tall and skinny as a rake, he didn’t seem intimidating until you looked into his eyes and saw the raw, burning emotion of a mad zealot.
“Where is the murderer?” the Reverend asked quietly.
“Um. We…haven’t got him,” Mollie replied, looking towards the floor rather than his face, trying to avoid the wrath which was surely coming her way.
The Reverend stared at her in silence for a few seconds before glancing at Adam for confirmation that what Mollie had said was true.
A simple nod from Adam was sufficient.
“Explain,” the Reverend ordered.
“He said he had his own witnesses and that we didn’t have a body and no proof,” Mollie spoke as fast as she could, still staring at the floor, wanting the inquisition over as soon as possible.
The Reverend glanced at Adam and received another nod in confirmation.
“So, he’s a fabricator of the truth. A deceiver. And we all know who the most accomplished deceiver of them all is,” the Reverend mused. “He is clearly a disciple of Satan, and he will need to atone for his sins.
Mollie nodded vehemently, still looking at the floor.
“Send the two heathens back to him with an invitation for him to attend dinner this evening at 7pm. I’ll be more than pleased to get rid of those two, they give me the creeps.”
Mollie slowly looked up, relieved that the Reverend wasn’t going to punish her for failing to implement God’s will. She quickly bowed and turned to leave the room.
“Not you Adam,” the Reverend said, as Adam was about to follow Mollie.
Mollie almost stopped herself but realised that she had been dismissed and continued walking back to the heavy wooden door. She couldn’t wait to get out of the room and tell those two weirdos to get lost.
13
Day 20 – 17:00
New Eden
Mamba awoke and was pleased to see that light was still shining through the curtains. He had worried that he might have slept a bit longer than he wanted. On glancing at his watch, he saw that it was five pm. Perfect.
He wandered naked over to the tall window which looked down onto the High Street and drew back the curtains.
The movement attracted the attention of a woman sitting on a chair on the other side of the road and her mouth gaped open in shock when she realised what she was looking at. She quickly averted her eyes and seemed to be shouting to someone out of sight.
Mamba smiled to himself, willing the woman to look towards him again, ready to start fondling himself if she did.
A few seconds later a man came into view and hurried across to the woman who was still clearly talking and pointing in Mamba’s direction. The man looked up at the window and immediately crossed himself.
Mamba smiled at the man’s reaction and wished he could hear what they were saying. The woman got up from her seat and walked away without looking back, while the man continued to look up, wondering what, if anything, he should do.
Mamba turned around and bent over then proceeded to rub his bare backside against the glass. At the same time, he flipped the guy the bird then strolled back into the room to get changed. He fished his wet clothes from the bathtub and laid them out on the carpet to dry while he selected another set from his personal holdall. There was work to be done.
Once changed, Mamba went back downstairs to the lounge area which had been transformed into their makeshift HQ. Basir looked like he was making a couple of bombs with help from Temel. Emre and Umit looked like they were sorting out a couple of crates and Ahmed was sitting in one of the comfy looking armchairs, cleaning his Glock pistol.
Mamba knew that security would be in place and w
as about to ask if there had been any word from Faruk and Ismet when the twins entered through a door on the opposite side of the room.
“Here they are, my favourite twins,” Mamba beamed as he took a seat.
“They the only twins ya know,” came from Ahmed.
“Come ‘n sit down,” Mamba said, ignoring Ahmed and indicating a couple chairs next to him.
“What do ya know guys?” Mamba asked once they had sat down.
Faruk: “We’ve been…”
Ismet: “With the Reverend.”
The twins always seemed to be on the same page and nearly always finished each other’s sentences.
“Yeah, guys, I fuckin’ know that,” Mamba said patiently, although his eyes automatically flicked towards the ceiling for a split second. “Ya ain’t killed the fucker have ya?” he wondered, with a smile. Actually, that wouldn’t’ve been a bad idea, it might have solved all his problems.
Faruk: “You didn’t…”
Ismet: “Ask us to.”
“That’s right, I forgot,” Mamba said jokingly.
Faruk: “We can go back…”
Ismet: “If you want.”
“Only jokin’” Mamba pointed out, remembering that these two took everything so literally. “Jus’ tell me what ya bin up ta.”
Faruk: “Not…”
Ismet: “Much.”
Faruk: “Big house.”
Ismet: “Big garden.”
Faruk: “They gave us some food…”
Ismet: “And drink.”
Faruk: “We met…”
Ismet: “The Reverend…”
Faruk: “And a few of his…”
Ismet: “Disciples and…”
Faruk: “Other people.”
Ismet: “It was a bit…”
Faruk: “Boring.”
“So, what’s the Rev like?” Mamba asked, trying to cut to the chase.
Faruk: “Small…”
Ismet: “Mad…”
“Pot callin’ the fuckin’ kettle black,” Ahmed muttered, loud enough for them all to hear, as he continued to clean his pistol.
“What ‘bout the Disciples?” Mamba asked.
Faruk: “Twelve of…”
Ismet: “Them.”
Faruk: “Different sizes but …”
Ismet: “Weak.”
Faruk: “More like…”
Ismet: “Sheep.”
Faruk: “It’s the Enforcers you need to…”
Ismet: “Watch.”
Faruk: “Big.”
Ismet: “Strong.”
Faruk: “We saw about...”
Ismet: “Twenty.”
“Armed?” Mamba asked.
Faruk: “Yeah but nothing...”
Ismet: “To worry about.”
“Great, anythin’ else?”
Faruk: “The Reverend’s a…”
Ismet: “Pervert.”
“What?!” Mamba looked surprised. If he’d had a beer in his hand, he’d have probably spilt some.
“Takes one to know one,” Ahmed muttered loudly.
Faruk: “He likes…”
Ismet: “Young girls.”
“So does Mamba,” Ahmed muttered again.
“How the fuck did ya find that out?” Mamba asked. “On second thoughts, I don’t wanna know, but that bit of info could come in handy. Anythin’ else?”
Faruk: “You’ve been invited to…”
Ismet: “Dinner…”
Faruk: “With the Reverend.”
Ismet: “7pm sharp.”
“OK,” Mamba said, wondering if he should go or just attack. He thought he should go, just for the fun of it.
Faruk: “You need…”
Ismet: “Anything else?”
“Not now,” Mamba confirmed. “Ya can go, but I want ya back here later. Well afore 7pm. I got a job fer ya.”
Faruk and Ismet stood and left the room while Mamba thought through the little amount he had learned. The good ‘ole Rev was a perv. Fuckin’ brilliant.
“Ya shoulda tol’ ‘em ta go kill the fucker ‘n save us the grief,” Ahmed piped up. “Worst case they’d’ve ended up bein’ killed themselves. No loss there.”
“What the fuck is up with ya?” Mamba asked, turning to Ahmed.
“Nothin’. Why?”
“All yer sarky comments.”
“Jus’ don’t like ‘em.”
“They prob’ly don’t like ya either.”
Ahmed shrugged, unconcerned.
“Ya goin’ ta this ‘dinner’?” Ahmed asked sarcastically.
“Yep, ‘n yer comin’ with me.”
“Do I have ta?” Sounds fuckin’ borin’.”
“Yer comin’ ‘n that’s the end of it!”
Mamba turned towards Basir.
“Basir. Get yer arse over here. We got things ta discuss ‘bout tonight,” Mamba ordered.
14
Day 20 – 19:00
New Eden
Mamba and Ahmed strolled along the fire-lit drive towards the front doors of Corsham Court. They’d left their automatic weapons back at the Hunter’s Arms and just carried their Glock pistols and Bowie knives. If the best these villagers could come up with were a couple of old shotguns and a few garden tools, then there was nothing to be seriously worried about.
They had been walking and talking for about forty-five minutes, having detoured around Corsham to get a better idea of what and who was there. The streets near the centre were dotted with bins, the contents of which had been set on fire to provide light for those still out and about.
As they walked, they kept a close eye on the shadows, sure that they were being watched the whole time. They had seen quite a few locals, mainly skulking in the shadows away from the fires. Some locals had quickly disappeared, others stared at them with open hostility and others with keen interest. Not one of them had said a word or gestured in any way. News of the murdering Devil arriving in Corsham had obviously worked its way along the grapevine and people were clearly reluctant to engage with the newcomers.
“Wish I’d put on some face paint ‘n a set of horns,” Mamba remarked. “Could’ve scared a few of these fuckers.”
“I think they’re probably scared enough lookin’ at yer ugly mug,” Ahmed replied. “I reckon this was a nice town afore, tho’.”
“If ya like small, shit towns.”
“It’s what ya’d call quaint.”
“Nah, it’s what ya’d call shit, ‘n yer turnin’ inta a big sissy.”
“Ya got no ‘preciation fer anythin’, Mamba.”
“Big word, ‘n I ‘preciate lots of things. Fanny, fer example.”
“Here we go again.”
“’Bout time ya got yerself laid, Ahmed, afore ya turn inta a girl.”
“I keep tellin’ ya, I’ll find some when I’m good ‘n ready.”
“Ya ain’t got enough years left fer that. Hey, I hear that Mollie’s free.”
“Fuck off!”
“Bet she’s gaggin’ fer it.” Mamba laughed.
“Blah, blah, blah,” Ahmed repeated, as he stuck his fingers into his ears for a couple of seconds.
“Could do with a bit of hide the sausage meself, ta be honest, otherwise I’m gonna have ta shake hands with the unemployed again. Ain’t seen any decent skirt ‘round here yet. As I said, shit town. No beer, no birds.”
“Birds n’ beers got nothin’ ta do with the town,” Ahmed pointed out.
“’Course it has,” Mamba argued. “A place is only as good as what’s there.”
“So, if there was beer ‘n lots of decent birds were here, then it’d be a good town?”
“Now yer gettin’ it,” Mamba confirmed.
“So, on that basis, places like Blackpool are good towns?”
“Does it have beer?”
“Yes.”
“Does it have birds?”
“Yes.”
“There ya go, then.”
“It also has a beach, donkeys, a tower, amusements, rock ‘
n lots of other things.”
“How’d ya know so much ‘bout it? Ya bin there?”
“Nah, read it in a magazine.”
Mamba snorted in derision.
“Did ya bring ya good beer guide with ya?” Ahmed asked.
“Do bears shit in the woods?” Mamba asked rhetorically. “Trouble is, the bible bashers have emptied ‘em all so it’s a waste of time.”
“Shame. Could do with a beer.”
“Me too.”
They reached the steps to Corsham Court, and as they took the first step, the large double doors at the top were opened and light streamed down from inside.
Mamba and Ahmed instinctively looked up and saw someone holding each door open and a small figure standing in the centre, backlit by the light so they couldn’t distinguish any features.
As they got closer, they could see the small figure was a woman about four and a half feet tall with curly red hair and bright green eyes. She was wearing blue jeans and a white blouse with some sort of slip-on shoes on her feet.
Mamba stared down at the woman as he climbed the final step, mesmerised by her appearance. Ahmed frowned, wondering what was going on.
15
Day 20 – 19:00
New Eden
“Welcome to Corsham Court. I’m Chrissy. Please come in and follow me.”
Chrissy turned and strode across the large hall, her feet tapping on the marble floor with each small step.
Mamba and Ahmed walked into the hall with frowns on their faces, watching Chrissy walking away from them.
“She’s a fuckin’ dwarf,” Mamba needlessly pointed out in a whisper, still staring after Chrissy.
“Ya don’t say,” Ahmed whispered back sarcastically. “I don’t think yer supposed ta call ‘em dwarfs.”
“Why?”
“Dunno.”
“So, what do ya call ‘em?”
“Dunno. Vertically challenged or some shit.”
“What?!” Mamba frowned in confusion. “A dwarf’s a dwarf like a spade’s a shovel.”
“What?!”
Now Ahmed was confused.
“Well, whatever,” Mamba said. “Fuckin’ marvellous tho’ ain’t it?”
“What is?”
“Her bein’ a dwarf.”