Authors: Shaun Hutson
‘Abbot Bartholomew’s treasure?’ she murmured, her own lips finally curling into a grin. ‘Who have you been talking to?’
‘Richard Holmes mentioned it to me,’ he admitted. ‘So I did some checking of my own.’
‘Peter, that’s a legend. A ghost story. A local myth or whatever else you want to call it. Richard should have known better and so should you. He’s winding you up. You know what he’s like.’
‘Abbot Bartholomew existed. He and his colleagues were burned alive for the ritual murder of some children.’
‘That part of the story might be true but not the part about the fortune in hidden gold or him having found the secret of alchemy.’
‘So you do know the story?’
‘Everyone in Walston knows it. Certainly every kid. They grow up with it. But it’s just hearsay.’
‘What if it’s not?’
‘So you’re telling me that a group of sixteenth-century monks found out how to turn base metal into gold and buried a fortune somewhere in the grounds of Langley Hill and that it’s been buried there for more than five hundred years?’
‘I spoke to Richard Holmes about it and I did some of my own research too.’
‘So all of a sudden you’re an expert on the myths and legends of Walston and its history?’ she said, smiling. Mason watched as she poured herself another drink then held the bottle over his glass. He nodded and she added more of the amber fluid to what was already there. ‘If I’m going to hear this I may as well be drunk. It’ll probably sound more convincing.’
Mason pushed her good-naturedly and she giggled. He watched her as she pulled off her boots and drew her bare feet up onto the sofa next to her, her legs curled beneath her.
‘I might as well be comfortable too,’ she added. ‘Go on then, tell me your story.’
‘Oh ye of little faith,’ Mason said dismissively. ‘Sod you. I won’t tell you what I found out. No. You can do what you like but I’m keeping the secret.’ He reached for his glass and pretended to turn indignantly away from her.
‘Tell me,’ she urged, stretching her legs out before her towards him, prodding his thigh with her bare feet.
‘No,’ Mason insisted. ‘I was going to let you know everything I’d discovered about Abbot Bartholomew and his mates but you’re obviously too ravaged by cynicism to take me seriously.’
‘Now you sound like Richard Holmes,’ she told him, still poking him lightly with her toes.
Mason put down his drink and caught her feet in his hands, gripping them tightly. She wriggled without too much conviction, easing herself back against the arm of the sofa and flexing her toes as he began to gently massage the balls and soles of her feet with his thumbs.
‘Want me to tell you?’ he continued, still tenderly and expertly working on her feet.
‘Only if you keep doing that,’ she purred.
‘You know the basic story about Bartholomew. About him and the other monks being burned alive for killing kids and about the secret they had.’
‘Don’t forget the curse.’
‘I’m getting to that.’
She slid a little farther down towards him, her feet now resting on his thighs as he began to slide one index finger between her toes, softly teasing and pressing the tips of each one in turn.
‘They were granted a treasure by their God,’ Mason went on. ‘By
their
God, whoever or whatever that was. Everyone thinks that treasure was an alchemical one and that they made gold by the sackful and hid it in the grounds of the monastery. Perhaps that’s true. Maybe they actually did it.’
The smile faded a little more from Kate’s face and she took another sip of her drink as he continued.
‘And in return for that knowledge they had to offer something back to their own God,’ he told her.
‘Like what?’
‘Blood. In the form of sacrifices. That’s probably why there were kids’ bodies hanging up in the monastery when the townspeople attacked them. That and their beliefs. This cult of theirs they had believed you could control people according to the strength of their desire and lust.’
‘And you found all this out yourself ?’
‘I am a history teacher, remember. Research is supposed to be one of my skills.’
Kate held his gaze, flexing her toes as he continued to massage her feet gently.
‘And you believe it? That people could be manipulated because they loved or lusted after someone or something?’
‘I think Simon Usher believed it too.And I think that’s why he disappeared.’
67
‘He didn’t disappear, Peter, he left.’
Kate shook her head and reached for her drink once again.
‘You know those pictures I found in the cellar of the cottage,’ Mason went on. ‘There were a number that showed Usher standing over the carcass of a butchered dog. Killed ritualistically for want of a better word. Perhaps it was some kind of offering.’
Kate exhaled deeply.
‘You’re obsessed with what happened to Usher, you know that,’ she breathed.
Mason pulled gently at the tip of her right big toe, running his index finger over the perfectly pedicured nail. She squirmed slightly but didn’t withdraw.
‘I spoke to Richard Holmes about it, about the photos and about Usher’s disappearance.’
‘And Richard agreed with you that Usher had found this treasure?’
‘He saw the pictures I found. There were some of Usher taken in what looked like some kind of underground chamber. Richard said he thinks it might be one of the crypts under the main building of the school itself.’
‘Richard shouldn’t be leading you on,’ she said, wearily.
‘What if he’s right? What if Usher had found something? ’
‘Like what? The secret treasure?’
Mason turned slightly to face her, the look on his face earnest.
‘What if all this isn’t just local bullshit?’ he stressed. ‘What if it’s real? What if Usher really did find something in one of the crypts under the school?’ He raised a hand to silence her. ‘I know you don’t believe it but just think about the possibility for a minute.’
‘The possibility that Simon Usher discovered the source of some treasure that had been hidden by a group of sixteenth-century monks who had gained the secret of alchemy and believed that people could be controlled by the power of their sexual feelings? Is that the possibility you’re asking me to consider? And that because he found this hidden treasure he disappeared? Just listen to yourself, Peter.’ She smiled thinly, sat up and shuffled towards him on the sofa.
‘Aren’t you even a little bit curious about what happened to Usher?’ Mason asked, her face now only inches from his.
‘You know what curiosity does,’ she murmured, putting down her drink and looking deep into his eyes.
‘Only to cats,’ he breathed.
They moved together as if a silent signal had been given, lips touching gently at first. Mason felt her hand on the back of his head, pulling him closer to her then their lips pressed together more urgently and he felt the warm wetness of her tongue probing against his. He responded willingly and leaned forward. Kate allowed herself to be pushed gently by him until her back was against the arm of the sofa. Mason looked down at her and was about to move forward when she raised her left leg, pushing her foot against his chest as if to prevent him from reaching her.
Mason saw the smile on her moist, slightly parted lips and he returned the gesture, holding her foot in both hands, drawing it towards his mouth. He took her big toe between his lips and flicked his tongue over the pad and then the nail of her toe. Kate sighed delightedly, her exclamations of pleasure growing louder as he repeated the same movements on each of her toes in turn before grabbing her right foot and doing the same again. Then he pushed her legs to one side and moved closer to her, his left hand sliding up beneath her sweater, gliding over the smooth skin there.
She arched her back and he pushed his hand higher, over her taut flat stomach and towards her breasts, his hand finally closing over the right one which was unfettered by a bra. Mason squeezed gently, kneading the firm mound, his thumb rolling over her stiff nipple. Kate closed her eyes and pulled him closer, raising her head so that he could kiss her again. Locked together like that, Mason used his free hand to unbutton her jeans and she lifted her buttocks, using both her hands to push the black denim down, exposing the tiny white panties she wore.
Mason moved back slightly, gripping the legs of her jeans, tugging them from her shapely legs as she wriggled free of the clinging material. She moved towards him, sliding onto his lap, feeling his erection as she ground herself against his groin.
He had both hands beneath her sweater now, both breasts cupped tenderly in his eager hands. She was gasping loudly, moving more urgently upon him and Mason pushed upwards to complement her actions.They remained locked together by their kiss, tongues darting feverishly in and out of the other’s mouth, sometimes gliding over each other. A thin, silvery trickle of saliva ran down Mason’s chin and Kate wiped it away with one index finger before resuming the kiss.
Mason grunted as he felt her hand gliding across the front of his trousers. She gripped his engorged penis through the material then pulled back until she slid off his lap and onto the sofa once again, pushing herself away from him with her feet. He gasped in frustration and moved towards her but, again she raised one foot and pressed the sole against his chest, keeping him at bay. She shook her head slowly.
‘Wait,’ she whispered, breathlessly.
Mason looked lustfully at her, seeing her slide her right hand over the smooth material of her panties, her index and middle fingers pressing against the cotton that encased her mound. Still fully clothed and now desperate to touch her, Mason once again tried to move nearer to Kate but she shook her head, her fingers now disappearing inside her panties.
Mason could see them moving within the flimsy garment and she smiled, her breathing growing more ragged.
Mason was transfixed.
She opened her legs a little wider, the motions of her fingers now more rapid. Kate saw him looking at her and it was as if his inaction was a spur to her. She slipped her left hand down to her thighs, massaging the smooth flesh there as her fingers continued to push and caress more urgently inside her panties. Mason too was breathing heavily now, his gaze moving back and forth from Kate’s face to between her legs. He put one hand on her outstretched right leg and she allowed him to rest his palm on her knee but nothing more. He moved his fingertips in tiny circles on the soft flesh there but dared not slide them higher. Instead, he looked at her face as she began to gasp loudly.
She had both hands inside her panties now, one covering the other, creating more pressure on her sensitive labia and clitoris. The muscles in her thighs and calves were taut, her whole body beginning to stiffen. Mason realised she was moments from reaching her climax and he watched intently as she surrendered to the feelings coursing through her body.
He would have given anything to be able to touch her, to caress her taut body but he knew that he could do nothing but watch as her pleasure reached its height. He was surprised when she stopped, withdrawing her fingers slowly from between her legs, holding them up for him to inspect. Mason could see the moisture glistening on the digits. Breathing heavily, she pushed her fingers towards his face and he leaned forward, sucking them into his mouth to taste her. She smiled lustfully at him and moved towards him.
The ringing of her mobile phone caused her to turn momentarily.
‘Leave it,’ Mason urged. ‘They’ll ring back if it’s important.’
But she’d already picked up the mobile from the coffee table and was checking the identity of the caller.
‘I’ve got to answer it. It’s the nursing home.’
68
‘If you don’t want me to have it then that’s fine but I’m asking you as a favour, Andy.’
Frank Coulson stood in the sitting room of Andy Preece’s farmhouse looking intently at the younger man.
‘Frank, you’re not asking to borrow a hammer or a fucking drill,’ Preece reminded him.‘You want to borrow one of my shotguns. I think I’m entitled to know why. If anything happens while you’ve got it, I’m the one who’s going to get it in the neck from the law.’
‘Nothing’s going to happen.’
‘So why do you need it?’
‘There’s a squirrels’ nest under the eaves of the house. They’re driving me nuts. I think there’s a family of the bloody things.’
‘So call Rentokil.’
‘It’ll be quicker if I take care of it myself.’
‘At this time of night?’ Preece enquired, looking at his watch. ‘You’re not going to be able to see them in the dark, are you?’ He smiled.
‘I’ll take care of it in the morning,’ Coulson assured him.
Preece hesitated a moment then shrugged and walked through into the kitchen to a dark wood cabinet close to the back door. He took some keys from his pocket and unlocked it, seeing that Coulson had followed him and was standing respectfully behind him, his eyes fixed on the cabinet. Preece opened it to reveal what looked like a metal filing cabinet within. He selected another key and prepared to open the second of the two containers.
‘Did you ever find out what happened to your sheep?’ Coulson asked, conversationally.
‘I told the police,’ Preece informed him.‘I even showed them the carcasses but they didn’t do anything.’
‘Who did they think it was?’
‘They hadn’t got a clue. Useless bastards.’
He unlocked the metal cabinet and opened it up to reveal three shotguns and several boxes of ammunition. Preece ran his eyes over the weapons then selected one and handed it to Coulson. It felt heavy in the older man’s grip and he hefted it before him, raising it to his shoulder and squinting down the sight.
‘That’s a Beretta,’ Preece informed him. ‘Twelve bore. It should do the job.’ He placed a box of shells on the kitchen table then closed and re-locked both the cabinets. ‘Just watch out for the recoil. It kicks.’
‘Thanks, Andy, I appreciate this,’ Coulson told him, holding the weapon before him. He stuffed the ammunition into his jacket pocket.
The two men regarded each other silently for a moment.