Mortuus Virgo (39 page)

‘Sit,’ he said again.

For a second, Murray didn’t move but when the stranger’s eyes rose in mock surprise, he forced himself to his feet and approached the empty chair. Blood poured from his mouth and nose and he felt at least one broken tooth with his tongue. One of the thugs stood behind him.

‘Thank you,’ said the man in the chair.

‘Why the fuck did you do that?’ asked Murray through his rapidly swelling lips.

‘Simple,’ said the man, ‘I am going to ask you some questions. You will answer quickly, and honestly, leaving nothing out. Do you understand?’

‘Yes but why set your fucking monkeys on me?’

‘You need to understand I am not playing games,’ said the man. Fuck me about and you will get more of the same. If you do as I ask, and don’t play funny buggers, there’s the slightest chance you may still get out of here alive. Now, I’ll ask you one more time. Do you understand?’

‘
Okay, okay’
he screamed, ‘I get it, just stop fucking hitting me.’

‘I genuinely don’t know. I’ve done nothing wrong. I was sat in my cab when one of your thugs pressed a fucking gun against my head. What’s all this about?’

‘He was a writer,’ said Murray, ‘Seemed interested in the history of the area and particularly wanted to learn about some nunnery that used to be around here.’

‘Look, I don’t know what this is about but you have got this all wrong. I only met him this morning and I have ferried him around all day. Yes it is strange, I admit, but for a grand I would have driven him to land’s end and back. We didn’t talk much. In fact, he was quite ignorant, We went to two churches but I waited outside while he went in. He didn’t tell me anything. All I know is he ended up very interested in finding this nunnery.’

‘No, I don’t think so,’ he said, ‘There are too many loose ends here, you being one of them. We will speak again soon.’ He left the room, closely followed by the two guards.

‘Shit!’ cursed Murray when the door was locked, and laid his head in his arms on the table.

----

Outside the cell, Mr Smith turned to one of the guards.

‘Any news on the other guy?’ he asked.

‘Not yet,’ came the answer, ‘We lost him in the woods but it won’t be long before we find him. We have every man on the case. Don’t worry, he can’t get in here, it’s locked up tighter than a ducks arse.’

‘Good. Let me know as soon as soon as there is any news.’

‘What about him?’ asked Baldy nodding towards the locked door.

‘I don’t think he’s involved,’ said Mr Smith, ‘Still, he’s probably seen too much already. We wouldn’t want Mr Murray running to the police, would we?’

‘You want him to disappear?’

‘That would be good,’ said Mr Smith, ‘But don’t make it messy. When this is all over I want the order to be squeaky clan. There’s a lake a couple of miles away. Quite a steep drop to the water, as I recall. If passing car or taxi was to have a blow out it could well find itself at the bottom of the lake, complete with driver, if you get my drift.’

‘Leave it to me,’ said Baldy, ‘I’ll make the arrangements.’

‘You do that,’ said Mr Smith, ‘But not yet. First of all let’s find this other guy before he causes any more damage. There’s too much at risk here.’

In another cell a few yards away, someone had their ear pressed up against the cell door, just about making out the conversation through the ancient oak.

The two men walked towards the end of the subterranean corridor, and slammed the door behind them. Long after the corridor had fallen silent, Murray sat at the table, his head still resting on his arms when he heard a muffled woman’s voice.

‘Thank God,’ said the woman’s voice, ‘I thought you may be dead. Listen, I, don’t know who you are but you are in terrible danger.’

Murray’s hand crept unconsciously to his bloody face.

‘Really?’ he said, ‘I’d never have guessed.’

‘Seriously,’ said the voice, ‘Those two men who just left, they mean you terrible harm. I overheard them talking and I think they are going to kill you.’

‘I don’t think so,’ he said rubbing his hands over the door, ‘It’s too solid.’ As his hand passed the lock receiver, he winced as a splinter lodged under a finger nail. He pulled out the splinter and examined the frame carefully. It seemed a lot older than the door and was certainly much damper. He looked around the room, searching for something to use as a tool. Finally his eyes settled on the table Baldy and his friend had left behind.

‘Wait,’ he said, ‘I have an idea.’ He turned the table over and grabbed one of the wrought iron legs pulling it outwards away from the frame. At first it resisted but eventually the friction built up and the hot metal severed, leaving him holding the cast iron leg of the table.

‘Got it,’ he said and returned to the door. ‘Right,’ he said to himself, ‘Let’s see what we can do here.’ Grasping the leg with both hands he drove the jagged edge into the door frame. At first it resisted but after a few blows, the old timber started to splinter and he attacked the frame with renewed vigour. Twenty minutes later he exposed the bar of the lock and placed the table leg behind it to lever it towards him. The door sprung inwards and he ran from the room in relief.

He looked along the corridor, getting his bearings. The cell he had escaped from was at the end of a short dark corridor, lit by a single bulb. Either side of the corridor were four rooms, each of which were open apart from the last one which was locked shut. At the end of the corridor, a stairway led up into darkness.

‘Did you do it?’ came the voice from the locked cell, ‘Are you out?’

‘I am,’ said Murray, trying the handle, ‘This frame looks rotten as well, step aside.’ He kicked at the door alongside the handle several times.

‘That’s it!’ said the woman’s voice, ‘It’s going.’ He stepped back and ran towards the door, shoulder barging it as hard as he could. The door flew inward and he fell sprawling to the floor, smashing his already hurting face against the floor.

‘Oh my God,’ said the pretty woman bending over him, staring into his blood covered face. Are you alright?’

‘I’ve been better,’ he said, through the pain, ‘What is this place?’

‘I think we’re in some old store rooms under the convent,’ she said, ‘By the smell of it, they haven’t been used for ages, perhaps hundreds of years.’

‘Yes, I am a taxi driver and brought a man down from London this morning to look for a missing lady.’ As he spoke he looked at her face and sat upright before asking her the obvious question.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked, ‘If you don’t mind me asking.’

‘India,’ she said, ‘ India Sommers.’ She held out her hand to shake his. ‘Pleased to meet you Mr Murray, now, if you don’t mind, can we get the fuck out of here?’

----

Murray and India made their way up to the ground floor and found themselves in an outbuilding of the convent. Murray peered through the window, checking for guards.

‘He is, but there’s nothing we can do to help him. There are too many nutters around here. He did give me a number to call, but they took my phone. The best thing we can do is get to a village and call the police.’

‘In this weather? We wouldn’t get halfway.’

‘I know, that’s why we are taking that.’ He indicated the snow covered car alongside the gate on the other side of a small cemetery.

They checked the area was clear before running across the graves. The flakes were falling thick and fast now and everything had a covering of snow.

‘Out of the way,’ said Murray when they reached the car. ‘Sorry babe,’ he muttered and smashed the side window with the table leg he was still carrying.

Lying in the snow was the shape of a body, being rapidly covered by the falling snow. The dark patch by the head indicated a massive pool of blood, the cause of the man’s demise.