Mariah Mundi and the Ghost Diamonds (19 page)

‘Keep nearby,’ Charity said as he slowed the pace of his swimming so that Mariah could keep up with him. ‘Can’t lose you here, not when we are so close.’

Mariah gulped for breath as a wave crashed above his head. He could feel the rocks beneath him as strands of kelp weed gripped his ankles.

‘Where to?’ he asked as he grabbed hold of a rock that jutted from the water in the shape of a large coffee pot.

‘There,’ Charity replied, pointing to the bottom of the high cliff that towered above them.

Mariah looked to the shore but could see nothing that would aid their escape. Most of the rocks were covered by the full tide, and at the water’s edge a peculiar house had been carved from a gigantic boulder that had at some time dropped from the cliff.

Charity dragged Mariah from the sea and they hid between two large stones. From time to time he peered back to the wood. Even from such a great distance they could hear the barking of the dogs.

‘Nearly there,’ he said confidently as he smiled. ‘This is the

life, Mariah. Takes me back to the Sudan – takes me back …’ His smile faded as he looked at Mariah. They both knew what he was about to say but couldn’t.

‘Will I ever see them?’ Mariah asked.

‘Never give up hope, Mariah. I believe your parents are still alive. Your father would never give up. That’s what made him so special and I know he will find a way.’

Mariah gulped down the tears that stung his throat. He was wet and cold and in his heart of hearts had lost the will to fight. Even with Charity there he believed they would not succeed. In that moment he wanted a wave to come and snatch him from the shore and take him to the depths of the sea. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

‘Don’t give up, Mariah,’ Charity said. ‘Not until your last breath. Goodness and truth are worth fighting for. Now, it’s time.’

Charity went on ahead, keeping to the cover of the fallen rocks and the bushes that had grown in between. They climbed the steep cliff until they crawled into a briar of thorns cut through by what looked like an old badger track.

‘This is the place,’ Charity whispered as he slid into a large hole that appeared to have been dug by a stinking animal.

‘But –’ Mariah tried to reply as Charity slipped underground.

‘Quickly!’ Charity said as his face appeared in the shadowy entrance of the hole like a large fox. ‘You will be surprised by what you see.’

Cautiously, Mariah slipped through the entrance of the tunnel and into the hole. He could feel the sides pressing in against him as he crawled on in the dark, and then suddenly he fell into a cave.

‘What’s this place?’ he asked as Charity took a lantern from a small table and struck the wick with a flint and steel.

‘Ghost hole,’ Charity replied, holding his hands against the lantern for warmth. ‘We’ll never be found here. The hounds can track us to the door and think it’s a set for badgers.’

‘Ghost hole? Do you mean smugglers?’ Mariah asked, as the light from the lamp grew brighter by the second.

‘Precisely that, Mariah, precisely that,’ Charity said as he blocked the entrance to the tunnel with a plank of wood. ‘It’s time for us to plan our war …’

I
T
was midday when the old butler with his bulging waist opened the door of the Towers and allowed Grimm and Grendel to make their way into the parlour. He nodded to each of them as they sheepishly crossed the threshold and walked along the hall before turning left into the room. The fire had been lit and burned brightly. The floor had been swept and polished and the house gave off the odour of honeybees.

Grimm and Grendel didn’t speak. Grimm had the demeanour of a foolish child about to be reprimanded for a great folly. Grendel sipped on his linctus and didn’t care. The green bottle was gripped firmly in his fingers and he wouldn’t have minded if the world had come to an end there and then.

‘
He
will be back soon,’ the butler said as he fussed about the chairs as if they had to be placed perfectly before the arrival of his master. ‘When he does arrive please show him the courtesy that his rank demands.’

Grendel grinned, showing his teeth like a large dog about to bite. It was as if something other than himself had control of his face. He winced regularly as his eye twitched and his cheek shook. Grendel knew it was the linctus; it always did that to

him as it attacked his mind, but he didn’t care. After all, he was thirty-six years old and in good health and had outlived his father by several years.

‘Did he say why he wanted to see us?’ Grimm asked nervously as he pushed his chair further from the heat of the fire.

‘It’s obvious, Grimm. They escaped, and Packavi went on a rampage – what else would it be about?’

‘About whether or not I should continue to employ you,’ the man said as he entered the room.

Grimm and Grendel stood up and gave a bow. Grimm shook slightly and Grendel twitched in deep agitation.

‘Sir. What a fine day to see you, sir …’ Grimm muttered, unsure as to what to say or do in the circumstances.

‘Fine day, Mr Grimm? It is particularly cold and the wind is from the north and the sea is moderate. It is not a fine day.’

Grendel eyed the man through linctus eyes. It was the first time he had seen him in daylight. The man stood in his neat suit and sparkling shoes that shone as if they were tipped with diamonds. His waistcoat gleamed in silver and blue and around his neck was a tidy cravat. He was taller than Grimm and well fed, with a lock of white hair that fell over his brow.

‘Do you think I could have some tea? My throat is parched.’ Grendel asked without thinking, his thoughts emerging automatically from his twitching mouth.

‘I think tea can wait, Mr Grendel. When I saw you last night you had the girl. When my butler woke me from a particularly comfortable sleep, he told me that you have lost the girl – and the boy, Mariah Mundi – and then lost him
again
.’ The man took off his leather gloves and threw them on to the sofa. ‘I give you everything,’ he went on angrily, ‘from the police to the army, and yet you cannot do something so simple as keep your hands on two children.’

‘Hexogenamite,’ Grendel blustered. ‘That rascal blew up

the dogs, shot Packavi three times and would have killed us both. He’s a maniac, demented and dangerous – not a normal child.’

‘We didn’t know he –’ Grimm tried to add, desperate to say something.

‘But still not a man, Mr Grimm – still not a man. I expected to have all these things coming to an end and now it seems as if it is just the beginning. You have let me down and the Society of Truth also. She was needed and so was he. When I left last night with Inspector Walpole all was well.’

‘What is it that you are looking for in suite 217?’ Grendel asked as he became mesmerised by the flames of the fire.

‘That cannot be told to the likes of you. That is why I have to do the work myself and you are left in charge of the children.’ The man warmed his hands by the fire. ‘It is of such importance that it can be shared with no one. I was entrusted with the secret before Gormenberg died – he told no one else but me.’

‘You told Walpole,’ Grendel blubbered as he watched a particularly interesting flame.

‘And he alone shall know. I have also taken care of Mariah Mundi – as we speak he is incarcerated in Dean Prison,’ he said as he walked to the door and turned the key.

‘How?’ asked Grimm, unsure why they had been locked in.

‘As soon as I had heard you had let him escape I sent a telegram to the Prince Regent. It invited Mariah Mundi to visit his good friend Captain Charity. The guards were well bribed and are lower members of the Society so I know they will do their job well – unlike some people …’

‘What will you do with him?’ Grimm asked, as doubts about his own future fuddled his mind.

‘They will meet with a terrible accident. Charity will try to escape and as he does so he will be shot. Sadly and most tragically, the boy is shot accidentally – oh, how we will grieve his

death, and I myself will walk before the hearse as a sign of respect. Then we will find what we are looking for in suite 217.’

‘Doesn’t Mr Zogel wish to frustrate our desires?’ Grimm asked nervously.

‘He may, for we do not see eye to eye and the matter is open to … negotiation,’ the man said as he stood on one leg and rubbed the top of his shoe against the back of his trousers. ‘I am a selfish man, Mr Grimm. I always get what I want. Gormenberg recommended you both to me and I hope he was right. I should hate to
lose
you.’

‘I don’t think we would ever be lost, we know the town well,’ Grendel said as Grimm kicked him to be silent.

‘I am glad you can appreciate the subtlety of what I say, Mr Grimm. I would even be prepared to offer you both membership of the Society of Truth – should you be able to fulfil my desires.’

‘Gladly,’ Grimm replied for them both, for by now the linctus had overwhelmed Grendel. His face took on the pallor of death, dark rings burnt the skin under his eyes and his face was drawn with pain. ‘What is it that would be required of us?’

‘You will die and be brought back to life,’ the man said simply, as if it was a commonplace thing to say.

‘Does it always work?’ Grimm asked.

‘Always – for those who are truly called. The Society of Truth is about leaving the cares of this earth behind. We act for the good – for fine and noble causes. We are guardians and we are the power behind the power. Do not fool yourself, Mr Grimm, that this world is run by governments and politicians, for it is not.’ The man spoke sternly, staring Grimm deeply within his eyes. ‘The Society of Truth provides presidents and prime ministers for the task. Since our foundation a thousand years ago we have grown in power. Every president of the Americas has been a Society man, and every prime minister of this island. Only the French stand for themselves. Even the city

of Washington is built according to our divine principles, and so is the Prince Regent.’

‘The Prince Regent?’ Grimm asked, wondering why a society so powerful should bother with such a place as the-town-at-the-end-of the-line.

‘Built by a great architect to the divine principle. It has a room for every day of the year, a floor for every month and a dome for every season. It points to our sacred city and can only truly be seen by the sea-hawks that fly above it. In all, Mr Grimm, the Prince Regent is a giant clock that marks the time for the Society of Truth.’

‘So what happens when we die and come back to life?’ he asked nervously.

‘A simple ceremony. It will take place tonight and on my word you will be admitted. But remember – once the ritual is over you can never leave the Society. Some have tried and have not awoken on a new day.’

Grimm coughed as if to clear his throat as the man walked across the room to the window. He stared out across the town. Before him was the Prince Regent and in the bay below was the
Irenzee
.

‘Such a strange way to travel. I always have thought that boats were never very good. I have a desire that one day we will master the air and be able to fly to wherever we desire. That would be a fine thing.’

‘Some of us already do,’ Grendel whispered to himself as he stared at a flame that appeared to have changed into the shape of a large bat. ‘I had a dream that I saw the sky filled with sharp black sticks that beat against the clouds and caused the thunder. Then a ball of light crashed to the earth and raised up the sea so that the land was engulfed by water.’

‘Do you dream often, Grendel?’ the man asked as he pulled the blind across the window to keep out the light.

‘Only when I am awake. I find sleep like death and do not wish to see either,’ Grendel replied as he took another reassuring sip of linctus.

‘Then,’ said the man, ‘I have changed my mind. Shall I take you both into my confidence?’

‘That would be a fine thing, sir,’ said Grimm, standing bolt upright as if summonsed by the King. ‘A fine thing indeed.’

‘Very well,’ said the man as he went to the desk in the corner of the room and tapped on its side to open a secret drawer. ‘I have here a plan of the hotel. What I search for was lost some time ago. You will have heard the rumour of the Ghost Diamonds?’ he asked.

‘Only in the Merchant Inn – late at night, when the old hag has stopped singing,’ Grendel replied.

‘Just a story, sir. I am sure of it,’ Grimm said as he tried to make light of what he said. ‘Seven men died for nothing – they couldn’t tell where the Ghost Diamonds were, for they were not there in the first place.’

‘A story, yes. A lie, no.’ The man looked out of the window quickly and then pulled down another blind. ‘Gormenberg knew of the location of the Ghost Diamonds and so do I … Help me find them and you –’

There was a banging on the door of the house. The doorbell jangled frantically. The beating came again. It was urgent and violent, a bare hand rapping against the wood. From outside the room they could hear voices raised in alarm as the butler opened the door and Walpole stormed into the house.

‘Where is Master Templar?’ he asked as his feet pounded against the hall floor.

A hand beat urgently on the locked parlour door.

‘Master Templar! Master Templar, they have escaped!’ Walpole shouted, out of breath.

‘
Escaped?
’ screamed the man as he unlocked the door and

dragged Walpole inside before the fire. ‘Of whom do you speak, Walpole?’

‘Char- … Char- … Charity,’ he mumbled humbly as if the cold bit his lips. ‘And the boy. The trap failed.’

‘How?’ the man asked sharply.

‘We had them good and proper. Both together, just as you planned. I only have four Society men in Dean Prison and they worked well. We had the boy locked up with Charity and when I arrived they had gone. Dug themselves out of the place. Took out the wall brick by brick. They were chased to the sea. Couldn’t be found. Hope they are dead,’ Walpole said briskly as he sweated each word.

‘Can you be sure?’ asked the man.

‘No, Master Templar. They were tracked by the bloodhounds to the sea and then lost.’ Walpole looked at Grimm and Grendel as if they were responsible. He could see that Grendel had left this world and slept wide-eyed. Taking the snuffbox from his pocket he spread a line on the back of his hand and sniffed deeply. ‘We should find the girl,’ he went on. ‘The blind eye should be turned tomorrow and then we can have done with them all.’

‘And what of the Prince Regent?’ the man asked.

‘One of my detectives followed Lucius when he was talking with the boy – they don’t know what was said.’ Walpole looked at the Master Templar as if he wanted to say more but couldn’t in the presence of Grimm and Grendel.

‘You can speak. I have called them both to the Society of Truth. It will cost them more than their jobs if they break the oath,’ he said, and he drew a hand across his throat as if it were a knife.

‘Very well,’ Walpole said as he looked at them both and sniffed the final fragments of snuff from his fingers. ‘I think Mr Zogel is not to be trusted. His miniscule friend is playing a

game with us and I think he would deal with Charity directly and cut us from the chase. All I know is that the dwarf talks about a Midas Box.’

‘Why don’t you trust him?’ asked the man as he pulled the final blind on the window overlooking the Prince Regent.

‘It was something Lucius said when he came to see you. I was hiding. I saw the Duegard – the sign of the brotherhood, the thumb drawn across his throat as if it were a knife. What man would reveal such a secret without asking?’ Walpole asked.

‘What is it you’re saying?’ the man asked.

‘I don’t trust him. There is something wrong in the way he is with Zogel. My men have been watching. It’s as if Lucius is the one in control and Zogel just the puppet. On the pier, one of the sailors from the
Irenzee
told an informant that on the ship they only saw Lucius, and Zogel slept most of the time.’

‘Perhaps he hates the sea?’ Grendel quipped. ‘I cannot stand sea nor dry land and am only comforted by my linctus. It stops the spinning of the world.’

‘Perhaps all is not well with Zogel – there are rumours he is sick?’ the man asked as he smiled at Walpole.

‘That’s not all,’ Walpole went on. ‘One of his men was arrested last night on a minor charge in the Merchant Inn. The beer spoke on his behalf and opened his heart. Whilst in the cells he kept on shouting that the whole town would soon find out why they were here. Zogel had him collected and taken back to the ship by his own guard before I could speak to him.’

‘Do you think they know about the Ghost Diamonds?’ the man asked uneasily as he paced the room.

‘Whatever is known, Master Templar, our decree has to be completed soon. If we do not find what we are looking for then grand hail for us all and no help for the widow’s son.’ Walpole stood stiffly and raised both hands in the air to the Master Templar in the manner of giving him a secret sign.

The man didn’t speak but answered sign for sign. He took his hand and drew it across his waist and then dropped his arm to the side and bowed.

‘So be it, Walpole. So be it. Grimm and Grendel shall know of what we do. The Ghost Diamonds have to be recovered. I have promised that they shall be returned. For that, we will all be well paid.’