Mariah Mundi and the Ghost Diamonds (18 page)

‘Not mine to sell. Captain Charity is the only one who can decide that.’

‘Ah, yes. The one whose head is already on the gallows. No bail, I hear, and finally charged with murder. How did he do it, I wonder? And to think they found the explosives in his office. Quite a scoop of evidence.’

‘Who told you?’ Mariah asked as he stopped and glared down at Lucius.

‘I asked the post boy, he had read your telegram and for a guinea told me what it contained.’

‘Why do you need to know my business?’ Mariah asked sharply as he fought the urge to punch the man to the floor. ‘I thought you had brought Zogel here for his health, but –’

‘Go on, Mariah. I could ask you the same question but I know you would treat me with a foolish answer. Dedalus Zogel is a man who admires things of beauty. This hotel is the most wondrous creation he has ever seen. Where in the world would you find a vista such as this? He doesn’t have long for this world and for the right person – who treated him kindly – he would allow them to inherit riches beyond the imagination.’

‘Life isn’t having what you want, but wanting what you have. Riches matter not. Surely happiness and friendship are above the money in a man’s pocket?’

‘The ranting of a crow soaking up the sun, Mariah. One day you will understand the importance of money. Happiness will never end your hunger or put a roof over your head. If you had enough money you could free the man who you were going to see. Think of it. Selling the Prince Regent might be the only way to save your friend from the gallows.’

‘You can’t buy justice.’

‘Justice?’ Lucius laughed as he spoke. ‘Justice is not blind. It can see the colour of money. Everything in this world has a price, as does every man. Be he a king, a pauper – even a judge. You can buy them all and the services they sell. Think about it, Mariah. Tell Captain Charity what I have said. A hundred thousand pounds and that is our offer. If he accepts he will be free by the morning. I will take care of all the arrangements.’ Lucius looked about him as he spoke. It was as if he knew he was being watched.

‘And what if he says no?’ Mariah asked.

‘There are those who will take it by other means. The Prince Regent is highly valued. Do not be surprised if it is stolen from your hands. We will give Charity a fair price – but some may not.’

‘Who are they, Mister Lucius? You appear to know so much about this place and have only been here for two nights.’

‘Every town is the same the world over. There are those who want to live out their lives and those who feel it is their divine right to interfere. Behind them are the ones with real power – power over life and death and complete in their subterfuge.’

‘How can he trust you?’ Mariah asked as they walked across the road and into Bar Street.

‘That is where
you
have to trust me,’ Lucius insisted as he felt the fur of his coat.

‘I don’t think a man like Zogel would want to buy this place for its beauty. He could have any hotel in the world,’ Mariah replied as he took shelter from the wind and the bustle of the street in the doorway of a grocer’s shop. The street filled with people going about the business of their lives. Women carried baskets of food as children played in the puddles of the night storm.

‘You would be surprised by what Dedalus Zogel would want. In the last breaths of life a man can desire many things. Soon it will be his time to leave this world. He told me last night that his life was like a jigsaw with a piece missing. The Prince Regent is that final piece.’ Lucius again looked about him anxiously and went on speaking quickly. ‘Tell Jack Charity to make Zogel a happy man and sell him the Prince Regent. Let Zogel fight off the power seekers. He will still have the Golden Kipper and there are plenty of fish in the sea.’

‘One hundred thousand pounds?’ Mariah asked. ‘And he will be free?’

‘I can make you that promise.’ Lucius shrugged the collar of his fox coat. He suddenly stopped speaking and started to walk off at a pace. He gestured quickly for Mariah to follow. ‘Do not look, but we are being followed. I thought as much when we left the hotel but wasn’t sure. Do not answer me but listen carefully. They will do whatever they can to stop you meeting with Charity. Now they have seen you speaking to me it has made

matters worse. When I tell you to, run – run like the wind and never stop until you get to the prison. If they catch you before you speak to your friend than all is lost.’ Lucius dropped several gold coins purposely to the floor. ‘Now Mariah,
run
!’ he said as a gaggle of children grabbed for the money and blocked the narrow street.

Without reply, Mariah set off at a pace. The wind blew his hair and the first drops of rain beat on his face. He dodged in and out of the people who filled the street and jumped the cages of squawking chickens that were stacked ready for slaughter outside the butcher’s shop.

Taking a look back, he saw Lucius engulfed in a brood of brats hunting the cobbles for the gold coins. A man tried to push his way through, shouting as he stumbled over a pile of children eagerly snatching for the money. Mariah smiled as he ran, knowing that he would have a chance to get away.

From Bar Street he turned the corner and ran underneath the clock as it struck the hour. He followed the narrow alleyways until the houses were no more and the old pond came in sight. Before him, reaching up from the ground and surrounded by a high wall, Mariah could see the towers of Dean Prison.

L
OOKING
up from the mud road at the tall gateway, Mariah felt that if he walked through the grand doorway of Dean Prison he would never escape. There was no charge on his life and he had committed no crime, but something inside, some bizarre instinct, told him that all was not well. He had the strangest sensation that he was a rat about to step on a gigantic trap that would snap shut and burst him in two. As he stood at the edge of a vast puddle of chalky water, he looked back towards the town. He could see the domes of the Prince Regent, the single spire of Athol House, the turrets of the Towers and above them the castle. It was as if they formed the points of a gigantic star that had been pulled from the sky and fastened to the earth.

In his hand he held the telegram. Already it was tattered and torn from the chase through the town. He opened it once more and read the words over and over. He looked back: the road was empty and he was sure whoever had followed him was nowhere to be seen.

Mariah couldn’t stop thinking of Lucius and what he had done. In his mind’s eye he could see him throwing the coins to

the ground as the man who had been following them raced for Mariah. If Lucius hadn’t done that, Mariah knew he would surely have been caught. Why? Mariah asked himself again and again as he looked up at the clock perched high above the gate and waited for it to strike the hour. He had followed Lucius to the Towers and knew that in some way he must be involved in whatever Walpole was planning, yet now Lucius had offered him a way for Charity to escape the gallows.

A sign on the door in faded black and gold letters said that visiting time would be over within the hour. Mariah walked to the door, took hold of the large brass handle and knocked. It gave a dull, empty thud that shook the wooden boards. A small shutter slid back and a pair of black squinted eyes stared at him.

‘Yes?’ asked the man from behind the door, his eyes blinking as if he saw the light for the first time.

‘I’ve come to see Jack Charity, Captain Jack Charity,’ Mariah said as bravely as he could, hoping his voice wouldn’t crack.

‘The murderer?’ the man asked as he continued to stare at Mariah, his eyes searching every inch of his face.

‘No,’ he said sternly. ‘The one who is the owner of the Prince Regent.’

The shutter was slammed quickly.

‘A visitor for the murderer, outside, now,’ said the voice.

The door to Dean Prison opened slowly. As it swung back on its great hinges it scraped the dirt from the courtyard. Mariah could see a tall building with a grey slate roof. Every window was barred and at every door was a guard. In the corners of the courtyard were large bloodhounds tethered to iron rings. They slept huddled in pairs, waiting for someone to escape. On one side of the prison building was a large wooden scaffold. There, hanging from a length of rope was a thick hessian sack. It was filled with sand and bricks to make up the weight of a man. It rested on a trap door.

The man with the black eyes ushered Mariah inside. He was the same height as Mariah and dressed in a neat blue uniform and small peaked cap. From his belt dangled a chain that went to the large hoop of keys he carried in his hand.

‘Follow me,’ he said with a nod and a twitch of his eye. ‘The murderer is in here.’

As they set off across the courtyard, the door to Dean Prison closed behind them. Mariah gulped, fearing that he would never be free from the place and that Walpole would be waiting to capture him.

‘Where are you taking me?’ Mariah asked as the man walked ahead of him.

‘To his cell – he’s not convicted so we have to keep him away from the others.’

‘Are there many people here?’ Mariah asked, hoping to fill each footstep with conversation.

‘Fifty, give or take a few … Can’t keep track of them, they keep dying … or trying to escape. We had more but some were convicted and some were –’

His words were lost as the trap door on the gallows was snapped open and the sack fell with a loud crash, snapping the rope and bursting open on the floor.

‘Good job that wasn’t for real, eh, lad? Could have caused him a nasty injury. We would have to hang him all over again.’ The man laughed. ‘Through here and up the stairs.’

Mariah followed on as the guard opened countless gates and doors and walked up several spiral stairways. Everything smelt new. It was bright and shining and gleamed. It had the smell of caustic soda and reminded Mariah of nights spent in the infirmary of the Colonial School in front of the bright coal fire with toast and hot chocolate and the smell of carbolic soap.

There was not a single person in sight. Mariah followed the man along a gantry that looked down into a cavernous landing

with cells on either side. Each had a solid metal door and each was painted in bright red with a brass number upon it. Far below he could see the stone tiles of the refectory floor and several empty wooden benches.

‘Is Captain Charity the only one you have here?’ Mariah asked as they walked up yet another spiral staircase and along another landing.

‘Only the murderer in this block – only been open a week, paint’s not even dry – he’s our first guest. Just been built. We keep all the others in the old wing, but the murderer’s special – Inspector Walpole said we had to keep him away from the rest of them and he had to have three guards all of his own. Not to escape is the murderer.’

‘He’s not a murderer,’ Mariah said angrily in reply as they went through yet another door.

The guard stopped and turned to Mariah. He pointed an iron key in his face. ‘If Walpole says the man is guilty then he is guilty and I won’t argue. Guilty until proved innocent, that’s what the law in this place is all about – you mark my words,’ he said in his terrier voice as he screwed up his black eyes until they vanished in folds of wrinkled flesh. ‘Now, if you want to see the murderer then don’t argue with me.’

They continued in silence. Mariah counted the paces between the doors and watched as the guard used the same key in every lock. Soon they were in the highest part of the building. The roof sloped to one side as they walked under the eaves along a narrow passageway. There were only four cells on this corridor. Mariah looked down over the gantry to the floor far below.

The guard laughed. ‘Fall from there and you’d know all about it. Still, you’d have a soft landing – so new, the mortar isn’t yet set,’ he said as he tugged Mariah. ‘The murderer is in this one.’

The guard pointed to a cell without a number. He took his key and opened the door and led Mariah inside a small room. There was a stove in the corner with a metal chimney running up to the roof. Three men sat at the table playing cards. No one looked up as they searched for aces and kings and sipped at mugs of beer.

‘This is the lad,’ the guard said as he locked the door behind Mariah. ‘Best be putting him inside.’

Mariah wondered what he meant. ‘I’m here to see Captain Charity,’ he protested as a guard got from the table and grabbed him by the arm.

‘So you are, lad, and soon you will see him – but first I should let you know that you’re here to stay.’

‘I’ve done nothing – I just want to visit him,’ Mariah shouted as he struggled to be free.

Another guard took hold of him as the door to the inner cell was opened and Mariah was pushed through the door.

‘Go tell Walpole we’ve got the lad and the two of them are together,’ the guard said as the door was slammed shut behind him and the lock turned.

‘Mariah!’ Charity said from the shadows of the dark cell. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘You sent a telegram asking me to come,’ Mariah said as he looked at Charity.

‘I sent nothing – I have spoken to no one,’ he replied.

Mariah looked at Charity. He had been stripped of his clothes and dressed in the rude garb of a prisoner. His head had been roughly shaved and his face was bruised.

‘They’ve hurt you,’ he said as he touched the side of Charity’s face.

‘Nothing that is new to me – I have had far worse from better men,’ he said quietly.

‘I was tricked. I had a telegram. You asked me to come to

you,’ Mariah said as he sat on the bed and listened to the faint laughter of the men outside the room.

‘It was Walpole. For some reason he wants you prisoner as well as me. They only have two days left and then they must charge me for murder or let me go. I can’t understand why he now wants you.’

Mariah took a deep breath and held Charity’s hand. He told him of Walpole and the detectives, and Lucius and Zogel.

‘So they had kidnapped Sacha and held her at the castle?’ Charity asked.

Mariah continued his story until he had nothing else to say. As was his way he spared no detail until all had been said.

‘Very well,’ Charity replied as Mariah sighed with relief that he had told him at last. ‘I suspect we will not get from this place with our lives. You said that those from Athol House were involved?’

‘Sacha was sure in what she told me. It was they who had rented the Towers and Packavi said the Prince Regent could only be valued from the air,’ Mariah replied, his hands shaking and face pale with concern. ‘Why does Zogel want the Prince Regent? If you agree to sell he will set you free.’

‘It would seem, Mariah, that we are caught in a war between two groups of desperate men. There is something in the hotel that they both want. If we agreed with his demands we would be rich but still in this place. Walpole is behind my imprisonment, but I am not sure if he was the one responsible for the murders.’

Mariah stood on the bed and looked out of the small window that let in the morning light. As he held on to the bars, he felt the paint sticking to his hands. He thought for a moment and then looked at Charity as if his mind had just exploded with delight.

‘We could escape,’ Mariah said quietly.

‘There are guards and the outer door is also locked,’ Charity replied.

‘Down there,’ Mariah replied. ‘Out through the wall and over the roof. In their efforts to keep you here they have made one mistake.’

Charity looked on as Mariah took the silver badge of the Bureau of Antiquities form his pocket and began to scratch at the painted mortar between each brick. It was damp and crumbled away.

‘It was something the guard said about this building. He said the mortar hadn’t set and there is scaffolding on the far side.’

As Mariah scratched and scratched slices of damp lime fell like sludge from the wall. Charity looked on as the lad dug deeper until the first brick was free.

‘We’ll have to work fast, Walpole could return at any moment – when he knows you are here, his curiosity will not keep him away,’ Charity said.

Within a minute they had piled several large painted bricks against the floor and there was a hole in the inner wall. Carefully, Mariah and Charity dug at the sandstone of the outer wall. The mortar fell away in their hands. Mariah lifted out a row of stones and handed them to Charity, who stacked them against the door of the cell. The raucous laughter of the guards covered all they did. Soon the wall was breached. There below them was the flat roof that led to the wall. Mariah slid through the aperture and dropped to the roof below. He was quickly followed by Charity. They ran close to the wall and then across the roof. Far below they could hear the guards as they shouted at the prisoners in the exercise yard. Within a short time they had reached the battlements of the outer wall and crossed the scaffolding from the roof to the wall.

‘Where now?’ Mariah asked Charity as they hid behind the

parapet and looked down to the mud lane and the fields beyond.

‘There’s no other way but to jump – you up for it?’ Charity asked as he looked for any sign of prison guards. ‘I’ll lower you over the wall and then you’ll have to kick away and drop – it’s not far.’

Mariah looked down. There seemed to be a vast distance between the top of the parapet and the ground below.

‘It looks so far,’ Mariah said nervously as his stomach turned.

‘By the time I have lowered you it’ll only be ten feet. When you hit the ground roll over and get up running,’ Charity said as he nodded for Mariah to stand between the brick turrets on the wall.

Mariah stepped back and slid down, his feet scrambling against the bricks. He closed his eyes as Charity held his wrists as he lowered him down. He dangled momentarily high above the ground and then Charity let go.

‘No!’ Mariah murmured in panic.

‘Now!’ Charity said as Mariah began to fall. He kicked out against the wall and dropped like a stone. The ground hit him quickly. His legs buckled and, like he had been told, he instinctively rolled to one side and got up and began to run. The shock of the fall still echoed through his body and all he wanted to do was drop to the floor and find his breath.

‘Keep running, Mariah,’ Charity said as he followed on. ‘They could discover us gone at any time.’

As he spoke there was a whirring from the alarm of the prison as the siren blasted long and hard.

‘We’re discovered,’ Mariah said as they crossed the fields towards the sea.

‘They have the dogs after us, Mariah – we’ll have to run hard.

As the sound of the siren began to fade, Mariah could hear the howling of the bloodhounds. The dogs sounded far away but desperate to give chase. Mariah ran on, a yard ahead of Charity. They crossed the fields and the streams until they reached the cover of the wood that clung to the cliff to the north of the castle. With every minute the barking grew closer.

‘Into the sea, Mariah. It’s the only way we will escape. We’ll have to swim for it – the dogs will never track the scent in the sea. I know a way that they will never find.’

Charity led on as they ran from the wood and across the rocks to the sea. Soon they were swimming together towards the headland of the castle. The water seemed to take them along as Mariah struggled to keep afloat.