Mariah Mundi and the Ghost Diamonds (21 page)

‘That it is. The reason is not yet clear – but will be soon.’

‘What will you do?’ Mariah asked.

‘I need clothes, Mister Quadlibett. I have a suit at the Golden Kipper. Tell Mister Smutch it is for my burial – he will continue the rumour that I am dead. He could never keep anything to himself. Tell him that I am to be buried with my pistol and small brass telescope. I have a room in the loft. There’s ammunition in the drawer of the cupboard by the bed. Bring it to me. Mariah and I have to plan our war.’

‘War, on the streets of our town? I will be reminded in my heart of the fight against Napoleon. In the hour, Captain, you will have what you want. In the hour …’

Mister Quadlibett scurried like an excited rabbit from the room. He pulled his fingerless gloves upon his hands and took off his silk cap to swap it for a small, threadbare topper.

‘You know where your favourites are hidden, Mariah. Help yourself.’ Quadlibett smiled as he slipped from the candy shop into the candle-lit vaults beneath the market hall. ‘Lock the door and pull the blinds.’

He disappeared from the shop. Mariah had followed him to the door and did just as he said. He turned the key in the lock and pulled the blind over the windows. All was quiet.

The hour passed slowly. The clock above the door ticked loudly. Mariah watched the second hand as it crawled across the white face. Charity sat in front of the fire, his eyes fixed and lips tight.

‘What shall we do?’ Mariah asked as the hour halved.

‘I have a good mind to go alone. I can’t take you to more danger,’ Charity replied without looking at him.

‘Impossible.’

‘You are in my care, Mariah Mundi. Don’t forget that,’ Charity said.

‘It’s beyond your care. It was something Packavi said to me. He said there had to be another death and then five more and his task will be over. He said seven would be a perfect number, complete …’

‘Seven? Are you sure?’ Charity asked.

‘He said I was to be a sacrifice and seven would die – something to do with the stars. When I found the man inside the Prince Regent, he was in suite 217.’

‘Suite 217 was Gormenberg’s apartment. That’s it – I understand,’ Charity said as if suddenly everything became clear. ‘The Society of Truth.’

‘What?’ Mariah asked, not knowing what he was talking about.

‘It all fits. It has to be them. That is why they want the Prince Regent, and finding the Ghost Diamonds is what they need to survive. That is why Gormenberg came here.’

‘The Society of Truth?’ Mariah asked.

‘The power behind the power, Mariah. Never look at life with your eyes closed. Nothing happens in this world without them knowing. The Society of Truth is behind every war and disaster. The politicians may say we are sent to fight for freedom, but it is really for gain. I have known for some time that the Society of Truth put its men in positions of power. They

then bring in more people from their society and so the rot spreads. They are like a plague, a virus that spreads its corruption. From the police to parliament they are all infected with the servile filth.’

‘So Walpole – the sign on his ring – the Society?’ Mariah asked.

‘The mark of a minion. No one of real power would be so crude. Walpole is just a foot soldier for someone else,’ Charity replied.

From outside the shop there was a gentle tapping on the glass. Mariah turned down the lamp before he opened the door that led into the shop. He quietly crossed the floor as the tapping came again. He peered around the screen and there, standing all alone, was Mister Quadlibett.

‘Followed, Captain, I was followed,’ Quadlibett gibbered with nervous excitement as Mariah let him into the shop. ‘I think I gave them the slip in the haar mist but I am sure they know it was me.’

‘Where from?’ Mariah asked.

‘From outside the Golden Kipper. Walpole’s men are everywhere. I met Mrs Sacahvell the fish seller. She knows everything. She said they were out to catch Spring-Heeled Jack. They must think that old Mister Quadlibett is the suspect as two of his men set off after me when I got your clothes.’ Quadlibett handed Charity a small brown parcel neatly tied with string. It was as cold as the night and brought the smell of the street and the strong odour of fried fish inside the Vendorium. ‘I think I lost them in Sepulchre Street – not that I can be sure.’

There was a sudden spate of footsteps outside the shop. The door handle turned slowly as Mariah and Mister Quadlibett stepped back towards the storeroom.

T
HE
door to the Vendorium sprang open. Two men in rough suits and dirty shoes stepped inside. They stood for a moment in their own dirt as the taller, scruffier man rubbed the day’s growth of beard on his chin.

‘We know you’re here, Mister Quadlibett,’ he said as he wheezed for breath. ‘Saw you leave the Golden Kipper, we did. Police business – want to know what was in that parcel.’

The men waited for a reply. Mister Quadlibett walked slowly and elegantly from the back room into the shop, the tassel on his silk hat dangling over his face.

‘Fish, fried potato and a side order of oysters,’ Quadlibett replied. ‘The Golden Kipper is the best place in the world for such food – here, would you like to try?’

Quadlibett slipped his hand around the door and unseen to the men, Mariah handed him a packet of fish, fried potatoes and oysters wrapped in brown paper.

‘Parcel you was carrying was bigger than that,’ the smaller man said as he rubbed the night dew from his nose.

‘Double wrapped to keep out the night air – can’t be eating cold fish can we?’ Quadlibett replied as he offered some of the

food to the two detectives. ‘Must be serious business, hunting for fried fish. I hear haddock robbery is on the increase.’

‘Funny,’ said the small man in a droll manner as he looked about the shop and sneered at Quadlibett. ‘Do you know Jack Charity?’ he asked.

‘Doesn’t all the town?’ Quadlibett said as he sucked on a fried potato. ‘Sadly, I heard about his death. Here, I have it on the authority of the
Evening Gazette
, so it must be true. Never known them to get anything wrong. Why should you be asking about him?’

‘Loose ends, Mister Quadlibett, snipping off loose ends,’ said the taller man as he tried to look over Qaudlibett’s shoulder and into the room beyond. ‘What’s in there?’

‘Everything I own – my whole life. A bed, the good Book and a warm fire.’

‘Can we see?’ the man asked as he stepped forward, hoping that Quadlibett would get out of his way.

‘Inconvenient. Especially as I am having my supper,’ he replied, taking a mouthful of fish and oysters.

The man snatched the food from his hand, screwed up the paper into a ball and threw it to the floor. ‘Supper’s over, Mister Quadlibett. Now can we take a look?’

‘I presume you are telling, rather than asking?’ he said as he stood his ground and with a flick of his head flashed the long silk tassel into the man’s face.

‘You presume right – now get out of the way.’

‘What are you looking for?’ he asked as the man lifted him from the ground. ‘That is where I live, nothing more –’

‘We have instructions to find –’ The tall man stopped and stared Quadlibett in the eye as he realised he had nearly said too much.

‘I am not a mesmerist. There are no ghosts in my room, no spectre of the night, no phantom of death … I think you

should –’ Quadlibett was about to finish his words when he was thrown to the floor.

The man stepped forward and pushed on the door. There came a sound like the clicking of a ratchet. The burly detective stepped back as a masked figure in a fine black suit pressed a revolver into his forehead.

‘This is a robbery,’ said the man as he winked at Quadlibett without being seen by the detective. ‘Move an inch and you’re a dead man.’

The detective shivered. His companion looked to the door as if to run.

‘Leave this place and I’ll shoot you as well,’ said the masked man as he held the pistol closer to the man’s forehead.

The other detective froze and put his hands in the air. Quadlibett knew instantly that this was Captain Jack.

‘You can’t do this,’ he said as he stared at the gunman. ‘You didn’t ask us if you could turn this place over – you from out of town? Them’s the rules – we say who gets robbed.’

‘Not tonight you don’t – it’s your turn. You,’ he said to Quadlibett. ‘Get up and take this rope. Tie them together and make it good and you won’t get shot.’

‘Please don’t kill me,’ Quadlibett pleaded as he snatched the rope from the robber’s hand and with great delight began to tie up the two detectives. He pulled the rope as hard as he could until each squealed in great discomfort.

‘Their feet as well,’ the robber said as he held them at gunpoint.

Quadlibett seemed to enjoy strapping the two detectives together. He disappeared into his room and returned with a large spool of gummed tape, which he proceeded to wrap around their heads until they could neither see nor speak. He continued to wrap them in the thick brown tape until they resembled two ancient mummies strapped back to back.

The robber pulled the mask from his face and gestured for Quadlibett to keep silent. Charity could hardly contain his laughter and Quadlibett smirked in deep mirth. Together they tipped the detectives from their feet and rolled them under the counter as they moaned vociferously.

‘You,’ Charity said to Quadlibett. ‘In the back of the shop and give us all your money.’

Quadlibett scurried into the back room as Charity followed.

‘One move from you, old man, and I’ll kill you myself,’ he said to Quadlibett as he slammed the door behind them. Charity then took a length of rope and wrapped it around his hand and then began to scrape it against the side of the fireplace until it split. ‘Wait two hours,’ he whispered as softly as he could. ‘Then
escape
– tell them you were robbed and threatened with death. We’ll be long gone. I’ll lock you in and push the key under the door. Only unlock the door when they have been released – that way they will believe what you tell them.’

‘How exciting!’ Quadlibett trembled. ‘If only I could come with you.’

‘It’d be too dangerous,’ Charity replied. ‘Help Mariah onto my back. I only want them to hear one set of footsteps leave the Vendorium.’

Charity left the shop carrying Mariah on his back. He locked the door and slid the key underneath. Soon they were in the street. The haar mist was thick and cold. It gripped the street like an icy hand. They could hear the sound of carriages nearby but in the thick fog could see no one. The mist dulled the lights of the shops, sucking any brilliance from them and garbing their form in brackish dreariness. It was as if the whole town was covered in a deathly grey shroud.

Walking by the King’s Arms towards the abattoir, they listened to the quiet conversation within. It was as if there was an expectation of something dreadful about to happen, as if every

man, woman and child had been given a foreboding vision that there would be great misery upon that eve.

A man stood on the corner of the lane that led to the Prince Regent from East Bar. Mariah could just make out his dark outline in the gaslight. He smoked a pipe and leant against the wall. He held a brush in his hands and looked as if he had just finished washing the blood from the abattoir steps. He watched them closely as they passed by.

‘Not an evening for a lad to be out,’ he said as he chewed on the chalk stem of the pipe.

‘Finished work,’ Mariah replied, his head down.

‘Spring-Heeled Jack will be out. Best get off, the pair of you. No respecter of circumstances is Spring-Heeled Jack.’

‘That be right,’ Charity replied in an accent that made him sound like a drunk Frenchman.

‘All right for me,’ the man went on. ‘Don’t think he’d be interested in an old butcher.’ He took up his brush and swept the dregs of blood into the road.

The Prince Regent loomed ahead, rising out of the mist like a leviathan. The lights from the square cast a large shadow against the mist. Here and there, the haar swirled to form what looked like the transient shapes of whirlwind spectres that fleeted momentarily before disappearing.

Mariah went ahead as he heard the sound of hammering and the screaming of Mrs Mukluk. He stopped on the corner and peered around the wall to see what was happening. Outside the hotel in the swirling mist and lit by the street lamps was Walpole. He stood beside three neat piles of alligator-skin cases all initialled with the letters DZ. Zogel was standing next to his carriage as Lucius gathered up the cases and supervised their stacking on the carriage. Mrs Mukluk was being dragged away by two constables in uniform. A large crowd gathered in the hustle-bustle to see what was happening.

‘What is it?’ Charity asked as he lurked in the shadows.

‘They’re boarding up the hotel and Mrs Mukluk is being taken to the jailer’s van. Zogel’s carriage is there – he’s leaving,’ Mariah whispered as he looked on. ‘There’s Walpole and his men – Grimm and Grendel and –’

‘And who?’ Charity asked.

‘He’s standing by the door of Athol House. I can’t be sure. Looks like the man from the Towers – the one who was speaking with Walpole.’

Charity edged closer to Mariah and peeked around the corner. In a brief clearing of the mist that came between fast swirls, he saw the man. He was dressed in his fine coat and silk top hat with a black cane in his hand.

‘Bardolph,’ Charity said in a whisper, recalling a distant memory and a face he could never forget. ‘I never thought I would ever see him here.’

Walpole began to shout to make his voice heard as he read from the writ. ‘I, Inspector Walpole of the town police, hereby give warning that as from this time the Prince Regent Hotel is out of bounds to all and sundry … and no longer the property of Captain Jack Charity, formerly of this parish and now deceased … This will be made law by the Mayor, Ebenezer Wolf, at the town hall banquet tomorrow night … Any person found on these premises will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. I have men inside the hotel and guards on every door and they have orders to shoot.’

‘Now it is all very clear,’ Charity whispered as he pulled Mariah back into the shadows. Zogel’s carriage rattled along the street, followed by the jailer’s cart. Mrs Mukluk screamed to be released as she clung to the bars of the window, the fat driver giving no heed to her distress.

‘What are they doing to her?’ Mariah asked as the carriage rattled into the fog.

‘She won’t have gone without a fight. Doesn’t like leaving the Prince Regent, thinks her son will come back and the only place he’ll know to look is here.’

‘Where is he?’ Mariah asked as they hid in the doorway of the Italian coffee house.

‘Lost at sea – believed to be dead. Mrs Mukluk won’t believe it. The Prince Regent was the last place she saw him alive, before it was rebuilt. There was a small theatre. Twink would entertain the crowds with impressions. He took a steam ship to France that sank in a storm.’

‘But she thinks he will come back?’

‘It’s what keeps her alive. Old Smutch fell in love with her. Sends her a card every Valentine’s Day – she thinks it’s from her son.’

‘Look,’ said Mariah as he spied through the dark glass of the coffee shop to the door of Athol House across the square. ‘Grimm and Grendel are going inside.’

Finished with their business at the Prince Regent, Grimm, Grendel and Inspector Walpole went through the large grubby door into the tall, shabby white building of Athol House. Bardolph waited at the bottom of the steps and looked across the square at the mist-smeared facade of the hotel. He smiled in smug satisfaction and then turned and followed, and the door of the house was closed behind him.

‘Bardolph. Never thought he would be in a town like this, Mariah,’ Charity said as they took the long flight of stone steps that led from the Italian coffee house to the strand below.

‘What does he do?’ Mariah asked as they walked on.

‘It is not what he does, but who he is. Bardolph is not his true name. Like Gormenberg he can change his identity as he likes. He is the Templar of the Society of Truth. When they need money or hear of some fine object that they could steal they send Bardolph. He is a scavenger.’

‘Then why is he here?’

‘Obvious,’ Charity replied as they came to the bottom of the steps and watched the last steam tram of the night roll slowly from the beach up the side of the cliff on its iron rails. ‘He has come for the Ghost Diamonds.’

‘So they are here?’

‘Possibly. Are you sure that it was in suite 217 where you saw the man?’ Charity asked.

‘Sure as sure,’ Mariah replied.

‘Then that is where we need to be. Suite 217. If we could find the diamonds before Bardolph, then we would be in a position of power,’ Charity said quickly as they walked along the beach beneath the towering dark hotel.

‘Even if we can get inside, Walpole’s men could still find us,’ Mariah said.

‘They don’t know the place. Imagine – we could hide anywhere. We could be in and out of the room as fast as light. My only concern is why they never searched for the diamonds straightaway,’ he replied as the tide came near to their feet.

‘There’s a guard by the sea doors,’ Mariah said as he pointed to a shadow far off along the beach. ‘Walpole wants no one to get inside.’

‘Then we’ll have to find another way,’ Charity said, looking up at the looming building that seemed to reach to the sky.

There was a sudden dull moan of the siren from the
Irenzee
anchored in the bay. It was as if it signalled the ship to wake from a sombre sleep. As before, the funnel and masts slid from the deck and a searchlight skimmed the waves as it scanned back and forth across the sea.

The ship’s launch pulled away from the vessel and raced towards the harbour. The searchlight followed, illuminating its every movement. Mariah eyed its journey, pointing its path to Charity as it soared across the sea.

‘Never seen a boat go that fast before,’ Mariah said, watching the craft ease its speed as it reached the harbour.

‘Looks as if it sucks in the water and forces out a blast at the stern,’ Charity replied as he took from his pocket the miniature telescope that Quadlibett had brought from the Golden Kipper. ‘Zogel and Lucius are at the harbour side,’ he said as he peered through the lens. ‘They’re getting into the boat and –’

‘What is it?’ Mariah asked.

‘It’s Sacha and her father. They’re with Zogel,’ Charity said in disbelief.

‘They must have been caught,’ Mariah replied.

‘See for yourself,’ he said as he handed Mariah the telescope.