The Strings of Murder (35 page)

Reed hesitated a good while. For a moment he even made as if to stand up and leave. Then, after a frustrated groan he simply said: ‘Sophie’s going kill me; I was supposed to meet her parents for breakfast tomorrow!’

The wait felt like an eternity, particularly since Reed kept pacing as if waiting to be hanged, and peering through the kitchen window for the body-snatcher, who was supposed to enter the house through the back yard.

We had sent Joan and George to their rooms, telling them that it would be best for their own sake not to know what we were up to. Something told me that Joan would not be so obedient, but warning her was all I could do.

While we waited, McGray went back to his reading and from time to time he’d scratch Tucker’s ears. I envied the dog’s careless slumber.

Finally, a few minutes after twelve, Reed pressed his nose against the window. ‘Is that your man?’

Before either of us could move, someone was knocking on the door.

‘That answers my question …’

Reed opened the door and we saw the filthiest,
scruffiest of men leaning on the doorframe. His bony, lined face was half-hidden behind the most disgusting, uneven stubble, and under a crushed top hat. He wore an overcoat riddled with holes, so discoloured that McGray’s looked like silken finery next to it.

The man smiled, showing off two gold teeth. ‘Michty me! ’Tis Nine-Nails McGray!’ He sounded coarse and slightly drunk; I could not tell whether he was tipsy or he simply spoke in such a manner. ‘I’m happy to serve youse, masters! Youse can call me Billy.’

Reed gasped and I saw his face go from white to yellow to green.

‘What is the ma–’

‘Good Lord, but it’s Reed!’ Billy jumped forward to pat the shoulders of the staggered chap. ‘Oh, look at yerself; a grown-up doctor o’ the CID and rubbin’ shoulders with the michty inspectors!’

McGray arched an eyebrow. ‘Ye ken this man?’

The green cheeks turned red in a blink. ‘Erm … well …’

‘Ken! This laddie worked for me! Och, the good auld times!’

Reed cleared his throat so loudly I thought he was about to choke. ‘Well, you know … I’m not from a wealthy family … I couldn’t afford my studies without undertaking … alternative employment …’

I chuckled. ‘And you were the one showing scruples when we told you about tonight!’ Reed was turning abnormally red by human standards so I stopped teasing him. ‘Well, I suppose it will be even better to have not one but two men with experience in this trade. Let’s away.’

Billy was already crossing the threshold.

‘Hang on!’ McGray said. ‘Yer not carrying any tools?’

Again, the gold teeth shone in a mischievous grin. Billy opened up his overcoat and, ingeniously attached to the inner lining, we saw a shovel and a small pick, their handles cut to less than a foot long.

‘Youse asked for the best in the trade, didn’t ye?’

The snow had ceased while we waited and the clouds had vanished, leaving behind nothing but the moonlit sky. Still, the chilled air made our breath steam as we walked, painfully, to the top of Calton Hill.

‘Good auld trade, body-snatching,’ Billy was saying. ‘I could tell you so many stories about us …’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ I said.

‘My favourite is William Burke’s,’ Billy went on as if I’d not spoken. ‘“The Resurrectionist”, they called him! But the man was no body-snatcher as such; he took the trade a wee bit further. He murdered people according to what the medical school needed, and then sold the bodies to them.’

‘Was he ever caught?’ Reed asked.

‘Och, yes! Caught, tried and hanged! Not content with that, the police gave his remains to the same medical school that bought corpses from him. The boys like yerself had a field day dissecting the bastard. I’ve never been to the museum, but my folks tell me that his skeleton’s still there on display … och, and that next to the bones there’s a wallet that the students made from the skin o’ Burke’s neck!’

‘Are we there yet?’ I grunted.

‘Aww, are ye gettin’ frightened, lassie?’ McGray said.

I did not need to reply; we had already made it to the tall stone walls of Old Calton Cemetery. Above the treetops I saw the castle-like tower of Calton Jail, black against the moon’s silver glow.

‘All clear as usual,’ Billy said, pointing out how deserted the road was. ‘Not a single peeler patrolling; just the way I like it.’

He led us to the barred gate, produced a bundle of picklocks of all lengths and widths and began working on the thick chains and padlocks. I was astounded by the quietness of his work; not once did the picklocks or the chains rattle.

At least he is worth what we are paying him
, I thought bitterly.

Reed was rubbing his hands together, his eyes about to pop out of their sockets. One would think that stories about human-skin wallets did not amuse him – although I must say that those are not the sort of things one wishes to hear at midnight … especially if one is about to break into an old graveyard.

Billy opened the gate and stepped slowly into the cemetery, as silent as a lurking cat. The three of us followed him, trying not to make any noise. I was about to light up our bull’s-eye lantern but McGray pulled my hand.

‘Open up yer eyes for will-o’-the-wisps!’ he muttered.

‘Will you please focus, McGray?’

We were about to go into another argument, but then Billy waved a nervous hand in front of us.

‘Shh! Listen.’

We stood motionless, straining our ears, but heard
nothing. Billy waved again, asking us to follow. I heard him sniffing the air like a bloodhound.

In front of us I saw wide stone steps, all covered in snow, ascending still further. Those steps ran down the middle of a smooth slope, dark tombstones laid all across the place and projecting their shadows on the white lawn.

Reed was walking a bit too close to me, quivering and looking around in the most anxious manner. Even I began to feel agitated.

Billy ascended to the top of the hill as he looked around … and then he halted, his steamy breath stopping all of a sudden.

There
was
someone else there.

I almost said something but McGray patted my arm to keep me silent, and as he climbed the few steps that separated us from the snatcher, Billy started panting.

The wretched man walked backwards and almost tripped on McGray, then started off in a frantic race towards the gate. In a trice, he’d vanished!

McGray and I exchanged bewildered looks. Reed’s face was contorted in a terrified grimace.

Nine-Nails and I unholstered our guns and climbed the steps. I saw that the grandest funeral vaults were on the other side of the hill; great stone niches that looked like small churches. Behind them there was a panoramic view of Edinburgh, the tall building blocks of the Royal Mile and the silhouette of its ancient castle. I had but a glance of them before McGray poked my shoulder again. Now even
he
was breathing in distress.

He pointed his gun down the hill, somewhere in
between two lines of tall chambers, but I could see nothing amidst their shadows.

Slowly, McGray stepped ahead, every movement a struggle against anxiety, and I followed. Each step took me closer to that dreadful, thick darkness; despite the frosty air I could feel beads of sweat running down my temples.

And then I saw it.

Among the shadows there was a figure of deeper blackness; a dark lump jerking eerily next to Ardglass’s grave. I instantly thought of a human-sized vulture scavenging on rotting flesh, as the icy wind brought to my ears the sound of the most repulsive splattering.

McGray halted immediately and waved his hand slowly. Only then did I notice that Reed had followed us closely, and McGray was asking him to stay away. Then, moving as carefully and silently as we could, we headed towards the grave. The snow muffled our careful steps, so we managed to approach and enjoy a better view of what was happening.

The grave had been opened; a pile of muddy soil lay next to the hole in the ground, over which that black figure was leaning.

I wanted to believe that it was human, for I could see the outline of shoulders and head beneath a black cape, but there was something primitive … unearthly about it. Squatted by the edge of the grave, it reached for the open coffin with what surely were abnormally long arms, contorting as I thought nobody could, trying to draw something to the surface with spasmodic tugs.

I had to make a tremendous effort to keep breathing quietly. There were only a couple of yards between the beast and me, so that the stench of the desecrated body reached my nostrils – together with a smell I had unfortunately become acquainted with of late. Burning flesh.

My heart raced, yet I did not make a sound. McGray gestured at me, asking me to point my gun, and simultaneously we prepared to shoot. The triggers clicked at the exact same time, and immediately the beast went still.

We all remained static for a moment, for we were not completely sure what was happening. Neither, presumably, was the beast.

‘
Don’t move!
’ McGray shouted at last. ‘Get yer hands out o’ there! Put ’em where I can see them!’

He walked slowly as he spoke, describing a circle as he drew closer to the bloody grave.

The beast did not move.

McGray inhaled to let out the most tearing bellow. ‘
Do as I –’

With the speed of lightning, the beast tossed a handful of bloody guts in my face.

I fired aimlessly as I felt it hitting me, the wet mass sliding down my cheeks. Blood got into my eyes, but I still managed a fleeting glimpse of the creature, crawling away with the agility of the quickest spider.

I wiped the blood off my face and saw that McGray was already running like the wind, jumping over sepulchres and tombstones after the black shadow.

A white light suddenly filled the graveyard and the blood on the snow shone like a scarlet rose. I saw the five-eyed symbol drawn hastily on the white field, a black
mass of some charred organ, and the ghastly tip of an intestine jutting out from the grave’s edge.

The light came from Reed’s lantern. I snatched it as I started off. ‘Stay here!’

‘But sir –’

‘
Watch the damned body!
’

By then I was already jumping down the frozen steps, my feet slipping dangerously on the stones. I crossed the open gate and lighted both sides of the road, the lantern blinding in the nocturnal darkness. I caught a glimpse of McGray’s overcoat flailing in the distance, running west, and before I’d fully realized it I was chasing him at full speed.

I saw him turn left and enter a narrow alley; following him I entered a two-yard gap that separated the cemetery’s wall from the adjacent building. I saw McGray’s tall figure cut against the starry sky. He was standing, motionless, at the very edge of a cliff. The jagged hill descended steeply towards the cluster of railways that separated the two towns.

‘Did you lose it?’ I asked, panting.

‘Aye, but it mustn’t be far. It was carrying –’

There was a crack.

I sensed movement right over my head and turned just in time; the black hooded figure was jumping over me, a shiny blue blade catching the light. I howled as McGray pulled me aside, the blood-dripping knife waving but inches from my face.

I felt a blow that knocked the lantern from my hand; as the beam spun in the air it lit the inside of the creature’s hood and I caught a glance of a ghastly face. Amidst sickly
yellowish skin, the light bounced over five glazed eyes, each one gleaming in a different colour. It was like seeing the Devil’s sign in the flesh.

It was such a brief moment that I only realized what I’d seen when the light was already gone, the bull’s-eye lantern rolling down the hill, and just as soon the black figure was running behind it.

McGray roared like an animal and leaped recklessly after the creature. Under the moonlight I saw them both rolling and hopping wildly towards the railways.

‘
McGray!
’ I yelled, and then heard him fire his gun twice. Without thinking, I took off my overcoat and set off in pursuit.

I was lashed by the branches of half-frozen bushes and bruised by jagged stones as I tried, helplessly, to control my descent.

The last few yards were but a blurry mess of pain, until I landed on all fours at the foot of Calton Hill. It took me a few seconds to rise and regain control of myself, and another few to recollect where I was.

The railway ran in front of me, the snow turned into dark slush by the trains, and far beyond I saw the yellow lights of the Old Town buildings. It was an anguished moment before I saw the two running figures; they were so far away that I could barely make out McGray’s silhouette, sprinting heedlessly across the rails. I jumped onto the ballast, my feet slipping on the slush. I suddenly had the feeling of being inside a bustling factory: there were carriages, wagons and locomotives roaring along many parallel railways, their steam whistles piercing the night.
The cars dashed constantly in front of me, blocking both my path and my view, and each time they did I feared I’d lost McGray’s track for good. The stench of burned coal filled my lungs and the ashes stung my eyes. I ran desperately until my legs burned, but gained enough ground to see McGray getting closer and closer to the creature. Finally, he thrust himself over the hooded figure and knocked it down.

He had it!

I ran on and was but one rail from them when I heard the deafening whistle of a train. I turned around and my heart jumped; an engine was approaching at full speed, so close that I could even see the expression of its driver as he blew the whistle frantically. I hesitated one blasted moment and then it was too late; the train cut across my way to McGray.

‘
Pox!
’ I howled as the wagons powered right in front of my nose, one after the other.

Over the train’s rattle I could hear McGray’s feral screaming and also the most unnerving squeal. It was as though he were fighting a wild boar. I dropped to my knees and looked through the passing wheels: I saw fleeting glimpses of McGray’s muddy boots and the edge of a black cloak embroiled in a savage wrestling match. Lying on the earth there was a bulky sack, its bottom soaked with blood.