Perhaps it was just some big office building cum residence, a base if you will, sort of an outlaw city. It was an interesting idea but what would the advantage be? The Moriartys had never done things that way. They’d believed in decentralization and for good reason. It was far more secure. A central complex like that would make a tempting target for law enforcement or rival criminals. Moran would know that.
No, that idea didn’t make sense. Unless the complex was military. That was a frightening thought. Was Moran planning something that big, perhaps a terrorist training camp? He might be, but if that were the case why bother with the likes of Holmes? He would have much bigger fish to fry.
What would Taffeta want? Power for sure. The girl was a megalomaniac. It didn’t surprise him that she would go for something flamboyant. Perhaps she was having the castle done up as some sort of billionaire’s mansion, except that she wasn’t a billionaire. She would have had to get the funds from somewhere. On what pretext? Why would anyone invest in her or Moran? What could they have promised that would require all that room or yield sufficient payback?
Wait a minute: room. What did you need rooms for? Schools. That was it. They were establishing a school. He was suddenly certain that Durham Castle was the new Schola Sceleratorum. They would have raised money from the criminal parents. Of course. Holmes didn’t know how Moran figured in but he was sure that was what was going on. The setting was perfect.
Assuming the castle was the site of the new school, what could he expect to encounter? Would it be up and running? It was doubtful Taffeta could have raised the money and refurbished the place that fast. But you could never tell with her. Perhaps she had a wealthy benefactor who had come to her aid. He should probably assume there would be students, teachers, all of it, just in case.
So Moran would be somewhere in this well guarded, busy place. Holmes would have to find him, make sure of his identity, and somehow capture or kill him. Kill him! How could he kill a person?
The prospect of ending another human being’s life made his stomach turn. The problem was that Moran was so bloodthirsty, so ruthless that it might be a question of kill or be killed. He was pretty sure his dad had never had to kill anyone, or his mum, although he wasn’t sure. Okimma was surely capable of it but she probably hadn’t encountered the necessity. Or had she? For that matter his dad might have had to and never mentioned it. It wouldn’t be an easy topic to bring up at dinner. “Oh, and how was your day?” “Kind of traumatic actually. I topped a guy.”
The detectives had so many secrets. Perhaps murder was one of them. He knew that people they were investigating had died, even some of the detectives themselves. But he’d never considered the possibility that his own family might have been involved in any deaths.
He couldn’t imagine Amanda killing anyone, or Ivy, and he really couldn’t see Simon doing it. But if killing was part of the job, they might someday. He might.
He swallowed hard. He couldn’t dwell on questions like these. He had a job to do and he would find a way to do it. He would sneak into that school, find Moran, and stop him before he killed again, simple as that. And then he would know that he’d done what he’d had to.
Now to the details. What weapon should he pack? A bow was too bulky. A knife would require that he be close to Moran and thrust perfectly. A gun with a silencer might do but he was a lousy shot. What about a poison dart? That would require skill, but it was something he could practice. Darts were small enough to hide on his person. He liked the idea.
He returned to the campus and packed a stash of the practice darts assigned to Professor’s Snool’s class, then snuck into the woods. He didn’t want anyone to know what he was doing so he trekked a long way in until he was sure he couldn’t be seen. Then he drew a target on a tree, stood back, and threw.
Hm, not bad for a first try. The dart was lodged in the outer circle. At least he hadn’t missed entirely. Perhaps there was hope for him. He squinted, aimed, and threw again. Better! Say, this was just like playing darts in the pub. He was pretty good at that. Of course the stakes were a lot higher but he could draw on that experience.
He closed his eyes and imagined the feeling of playing in the pub. He was no actor and it was difficult. Amanda would have known how to harness the feeling but he wasn’t about to ask her for help. He would have to figure this out on his own.
He tried to imagine the sights and sounds of a pub, the dartboard, the feel of the missile in his hand. He mentally drew his hand back and let the dart fly. He watched in his mind’s eye as it hit the target and felt that little jolt he always got when he did well. Was this what preparing for a part in a movie felt like? He wished he could ask her. He wished a lot of things about Amanda.
He pictured the shape of his arm as it pulled back, then forward again, releasing the dart that would hit the bullseye. The motion outlined a shape and he pictured it in different colors: red, blue, green. He lifted his arm and attempted to create the shape. It felt good, natural—perfect. He repeated the motion over and over until he was certain he had become the shape.
He opened his eyes and breathed. It was simple now. He was the shape and couldn’t miss. He let the dart go and watched calmly as it hit the bullseye. Then he did it again and again and again until the light was gone.
22
In Disguise
Unbeknownst to Holmes Amanda was headed for Schola Sceleratorum too. Her close call with Stencil Moriarty had left her shaken, but she was also hopping mad. She was getting tired of these creeps and was more determined than ever to bring them to justice.
Like Holmes she had done her homework, but unlike him she had enlisted help in the form of Fern, who agreed to drive her to the castle on the condition that she be allowed to accompany her. But Amanda had reservations. It would be difficult enough for her to escape notice. Two detectives would be twice as easy to spot. After a lot of to-ing and fro-ing she won out. Fern would stand by with the car.
The mission would give her an opportunity to use her formidable disguise skills. She’d considered wearing all black so she would fade into the background, but she remembered that she’d had her best luck hiding in plain sight. No one noticed service people like plumbers and gardeners. If she were to dress like one of them she might be able to move around freely.
The two girls ran up to the Disguise classroom and threw open the cupboards. Professor Tumble had everything you could imagine stored there, theatrical costumes and appliances as well as street clothes. The problem was that Amanda was so small. If she were to look like a real plumber or cable repair person she’d have to make herself both wider and taller. At five foot one she’d never be able to pass for a big, hulking man, but she could add some bulk to her appearance.
The disguise teacher had collected a range of padded suits and elevator shoes. The suits made your whole body look larger and you could select Slightly Plump, Beer Belly, or Tweedledee. There were also appliances such as stomachs and double chins, although the latter was quite a job to attach. The most you could add to your height was about three inches unless you wanted to wear high heels, but obviously those were out.
“No one will recognize you in that,” said Fern pointing to a huge fat suit.
“I think it’s a bit extreme, don’t you?” said Amanda. A plumber who was that big would have trouble squeezing into small spaces. She didn’t think it was realistic.
“I guess,” said Fern. “Just put it on anyway. I want to see how you look.”
Amanda pulled the suit off the rack and stepped into it. She felt as if she were being squeezed to death.
“Ugh. This is so bulky. I can barely move.”
“Probably a bad idea then,” said Fern. “Never mind. What do you think about a wig? Bald cap?”
“I think you’re getting carried away,” said Amanda. “I can just stuff my hair under a hat.”
“Right,” said Fern. “You don’t have psychedelic hair like me. I forget sometimes.”
“It’s big but i
t will pack down when I twist it and pin it up. You’ll see.”
“I was once under cover and my hair got loose,” said Fern. “I had to scarper out of there so fast I lost a heel. I have to be really careful.”
“I can imagine,” said Amanda. “Some people are naturally unobtrusive and others have to work really hard at it. Simon is good that way. No one ever notices him.” She laughed.
“Buck is so unfair,” said Fern. “Simon is a huge asset. Do you think he would be willing to help?”
“I thought of that,” said Amanda, “but I need to do this myself.”
“I understand,” said Fern. “I’d be the same way.”
Amanda selected a suit that added thirty pounds to her appearance and a pair of sneakers that brought her to about five foot four. She was still small but with a baseball hat and a tool belt she might pull it off. She decided that a plumber’s uniform was probably her best choice, although an electrician would have worked too. Either would give her access to most of the interior of the castle whereas a delivery getup would limit her to the outside.
She assembled the disguise and checked herself in the mirror. It would do well enough. All she really needed to do was create an impression. No one would scrutinize her. She considered adding some gum to the ensemble but decided that would just call attention to her. She was ready.
Night had fallen and as luck would have it, a thick fog with it. The mist was so dense you could barely see three feet ahead of you. This development was both good and bad: good because it provided cover, bad because you could crash into someone without warning.
Amanda climbed out of the car, blew Fern a kiss she probably couldn’t see, and crept toward the castle. Because of the fog the only way she could be sure she was headed in the right direction was that she could see faint lights.
She crept toward them. The unfamiliar territory, the dark, and the mist made it slow going and she almost collided with trees and bushes more than once. Suddenly, though, she was on top of a guard gate much like Legatum’s. A bored-looking uniformed woman was sitting in the booth staring at her phone. Was there a way to slip through the gate unseen? With all that fog and her electronic pacifier the woman probably wouldn’t notice.
Amanda did a quick reconnoiter and was disappointed to find that there was no way around the gate—it was attached to solid walls on both sides. This was an obstacle she had anticipated, though, and she hunkered down to wait for a vehicle.
After a damp and uncomfortable wait she was rewarded. A truck drove up and stopped at the gate and she snuck around to the passenger side. When the guard waved the truck through, she crept alongside it. She was in.
As she neared the castle she saw people milling around in the brightly lit foyer. Kids! She’d forgotten that Schola held its classes at night. The castle would be full of people. For a moment she was put off, then decided she could still manage the mission. She was becoming an expert at hiding in plain sight.
But plumbers don’t usually go in front doors. If she could find a back entrance she might avoid all those people and more easily stay in character. She peered through the fog and saw a sign with a red arrow pointing to the side of the castle: “Service Entrance.” Excellent.
When she got to the side door she took a deep breath and knocked. If someone answered she’d go into her spiel and present her fake work order. She hoped they wouldn’t, though. She’d prefer not having to speak to anyone with her fourteen-year-old voice and utter lack of plumbing knowledge. As it happened her wish was granted. Nothing happened.
She eyed the bell. If she rang it someone would surely come. But maybe if she just strode in and acted like she belonged there . . . . She tried the handle. It was locked. What had she expected, a welcoming party?
Praying that there was no alarm, she extracted Ivy’s lock picking tools from her stash and set to work, keeping an ear out for signs of life inside. Her hands were shaking and it was difficult to see what she was doing but she finally got it: the lock clicked and she opened the door. She was surprised it had been so easy, but then the complex was thick with cameras. They probably relied on them as much as or more than the actual locks. That was what Legatum did anyway.
She found herself in a dark, circular area filled with junk: rusty appliances, rags, broken furniture—blech. Whoever had owned the castle before must have left the stuff. There were three doors leading out of the utility area. One was obviously a loo—well duh, it was labeled “Loo.” No reason to go in there. She had no idea where the other two led. She crept to the one on her left and listened: a bit of clattering, a woman’s voice. The kitchen. If she barged in she’d have some explaining to do, her disguise notwithstanding.
She tiptoed to the other door, although she needn’t have worried about making noise. With all that racket in the kitchen no one would hear her. She put her ear to the door and listened. Nothing. She would try this one.
She cautiously opened the door and found herself face to face with . . . a tunnel? It sure looked like it. It was hard to see in the dim light but she appeared to be looking at a narrow stone passageway. Oooh, this was creepy. Unfortunately it looked like her best choice so she stepped inside and closed the heavy door behind her.
The corridor was dimly lit but there was nothing to see: just stone walls on either side. A vision of Dracula popped into her head but she shook it off. Taffeta was nasty but as far as she knew she didn’t suck people’s blood. The passage did look like a great filming location though. She took out her camera and videoed it.
Like the utility area the tunnel was circular and you couldn’t see very far. It would be easy for someone to surprise her and vice versa. She instinctively hugged the wall as if that would make her invisible, but she knew how exposed she was and felt like an idiot.
At last she came to a door. Hearing nothing from the other side she opened it slowly and peered through. She could see three more doors in a circular area with stairs in the middle. A tower? Probably. She knew from her research that the castle was full of them. Should she go up? She had no idea. Wherever the glasses were, they were likely to be in a remote area. But there were so many towers! How would she know which, if any, was the right one? She closed her eyes and stepped through the doorway. A bird in the hand and all that.
The circular staircase reminded her of the one leading to Legatum’s secret room but this one went up instead of down. It was also wider and was actually lit. The steps were as uneven as a bad haircut. She imagined the original inhabitants—a noble and his family, soldiers, their servants—climbing up them. That was one of the cool things about England: every place you went was saturated with history. Back home in L.A. you had to try really hard to imagine the past. The state parks were as close as you could get most of the time, with their Chumash exhibits and a scattering of vintage buildings. Other than that you could barely see back to the 19th century.
At last she came to a landing. In front of her was another circular hall, this one ringed with doors on the outer wall. Each door was labeled with the word “Visitor” followed by a number. Could this be Schola’s guest quarters?
She approached the first room, Visitor 1, and listened at the door. Complete and utter stillness. She turned the knob and slowly pushed the door in. It was dark inside so either the inhabitant was sleeping or it was empty. She couldn’t hear breathing so she fumbled on the wall until she found the light switch and flicked it. OMG.
The room was done up all in black with a few red touches and looked utterly evil. Was it possible that Taffeta was a devil worshiper? That would explain a lot. Amanda had never seen signs of that and no one had ever mentioned such a possibility, but this . . . this screamed Satan with a capital S.
Hands shaking, she pulled open the drawer of the little desk that stood in a corner. It was empty, as were those below it. Not that she thought the glasses would be sitting around in such a place but she was curious. What sorts of horrors might this room contain?
After a check of the night
stand, dresser, and closet she had gathered no proof either way. Everything was empty. Apparently the room was unoccupied. She exited, turning off the light behind her and went to the next door.
This one was worse. The original stone cladding had been retained but it was full of what Amanda could only hope was Halloween-themed paraphernalia. She counted several skeletons, a few additional skulls, a terrarium with a live tarantula inside, another with a big snake, and some masks that would scare the daylights out of Death. Whether the room was a joke or more evidence of devilish pursuits she couldn’t tell but she liked it not one bit and left as soon as she’d made a cursory search. Yick. Gordon would probably love it but it made her want to hurl.
She was beginning to get the lay of the land. These guest quarters, for that’s what she had concluded they were, might be compelling in a warped sort of way, but they would not make a good hiding place for the spectacles. She crept back down the stairs and found herself once more facing three doors, two of them to the tunnel and one that led who knew where. It seemed that there was only one sensible choice. She opened the mysterious door and peeked through.
Amanda found herself looking at a gigantic circular dining room. Fortunately it was empty, although Schola’s cook had laid out tea and snacks for anyone who found themselves in need of a cuppa. The setup was weird—all those long banks of tables in a round room. She mentally rearranged them into crescents, then chided herself for being so OCD. She hadn’t come to practice the art of decoration. She was there to find the spectacles.
She could see several more doors. One presumably opened into the kitchen but the others might lead anywhere. She tiptoed to the one on her right and listened. This time she could definitely hear voices. That probably wasn’t the best way to go so she tried the door to the left. Good, silence. She turned the knob and pushed it open.
Amanda Lester and the Gold Spectacles Surprise Page 21