The Grotto's Secret: A Historical Conspiracy Mystery Thriller (24 page)

97

María wanted to turn her eyes away so Madre wouldn’t read her guilt, but her mother’s eyes held hers.

‘Say nothing of the journal or they will do these terrible to you too.’

María’s voice cracked, ‘Never. Your secret is safe, Mama.’

‘Try to run. Don’t fight back, you have no chance.’

María nodded; she couldn’t tell her mother she had no intention of giving in. She’d rather die than be violated or imprisoned or whatever else they had planned for her and her mother. Instead, she told Madre in silence:
I will never give up
.

The unbooted and cloaked soldiers spoke at the top of their voices, eating the stew with loud burps and grunts.

Again, Madre took the opportunity to whisper to her, ‘I don’t think it could be one of my patients. But maybe —’

‘Tell me, Mama, I will find them and kill them.’

‘Fernando’s wife thought her bebé would live. She couldn’t understand it was inside too long in the wrong position.’ Her words were consumed with agony.

María wished she could take her mother’s place.

‘She didn’t see Fernando and I. We pulled it out with the cord tangled around its neck.’

‘I will find her Mama and —’

Despite her struggling to speak, Madre hissed, ‘She is not to blame, María. You will do her no harm.’ She lay her sheared head back on the stone floor, looking too exhausted to say any more.

Madre was right. This had not come to them from a woman’s baby dying. Taking a deep, guilty breath, María closed her eyes, overcome with the desire to confess her sin of sending the story and journal
to Barcelona.

The leather jerkin kicked the door open with his boot and barged back into the kitchen. María stared as he inserted a metal claw into the fire. As the flames heated the surface, she could see two sharp U-shaped points on each end that looked as though they pinched together.

Blood pounded in her ears.

Dios santo!

This was their spider.

98

The maze of terraced houses enabled Olaf to sneak past the security giant waiting in the car. The security guard surely couldn’t see much with his head buried in the car ceiling. It must be a pain to be so tall. Literally a pain in the neck if you had to keep bending low.

He’d have to be crafty when it came to the giant’s turn. Taking him down wouldn’t be a problem. He had strength in the hard muscular dragon. It was the guard’s height that would make killing him interesting.

But first the devil.

He crept to the shed and peered in the window to see what the devil was doing.

Years ago, this place covered in military memorabilia had been his first hit. Jurgen had insisted Wade had copied information and hidden it somewhere at home. Without making it look like a robbery, Olaf had done a thorough search of the house and garage. As he strained one eye to the side of the dusty glass pane, he knocked over a broom.

Olaf cursed under his breath.
Bliksem!

He flattened himself along the wall and waited a few minutes, knowing the devil would be peering out.

Still in his green camouflage sweatshirt, he gave her a few minutes to calm down and wormed his way backwards behind the shed. She would exit any minute now. If only his heavy legs hadn’t got in the way, she might have found what he himself had searched for a couple of years ago.

But he must have spooked her. Never mind, the spooking would soon be taken a step further.

That’s when the fun would start.

99

Kelby’s nerves were instantly on guard. She peeped out of the window at the back of the den. A garden broom had fallen over. She glanced around, expecting to see someone stalking her.

Now she berated herself for telling Hawk to wait in the car. As she had told him before, coward on her own!

With her heart hammering in her chest, she held her breath.

Kelby listened. Silence.

Only a light peaceful, musical tinkle of another wind chime hanging on the corner of the wooden roof.

Folding the note up, she took another look around Gary’s man-cave, knowing she’d have to come back and search it more thoroughly. The note had alerted her. He had other information hidden in here somewhere.

Right now, Homerton Clinic called. She had to go there. She was too far down the line to stop now.

A crunch of gravel outside.

Kelby froze. Someone was there. She wanted to call out to see if it was Hawk, but realised with the maze of alleyways on the housing estate, he probably hadn’t seen which house she’d entered.

She pushed her back against the wall. Moving only her head, she peered out of the window.

No-one in sight.

With her eye so close to the wall, Kelby could see something further along the wall under an army helmet hanging on a nail. She ducked under the window and swung the helmet to one side.

Gary’s right army boot, from his amputated leg, hung by its lace on the wall. Kelby picked the boot off the nail and hugged it to her chest. Closing her eyes, she leaned in to smell the leather and polish still clinging to the boot. Gary had kept his boot even though it had never felt the warmth of his foot again. Tears threatened so she opened her eyes and gazed at a pattern on the boot.

Kelby gasped.

A replica of her pendant had been scratched on the boot. Except the replica had other symbols joining it, creating a full diagram.

What does this mean?

The drawing looked like a code. She stared at it and traced her finger along the curved X and then along the lines joining it.

Along the sole of the boot she could see tiny writing and squinted at it. Gary had etched his favourite words into the rubber: Never, never give up.

No time now to work out what the code meant. She peered out of the window again. Hawk wasn’t far; she needed to get out of the garden and run down the row of houses.

For a long moment Kelby stood still before deciding it was safe.

Somewhere in the trees outside a dove cooed. Kelby glanced as the pair flapped down and settled on the nearby fence. They watched her with their beady eyes.

A strange sensation crept into her, as though Gary was up there, somewhere, watching over her.

She snuck out and locked Gary’s man-cave, then she slid her back along the wall, stepping sideways, crab walking along the back of the shed.

At that moment, her head caught in a tangle from a chime that boasted an assortment of Stacie’s earrings. She batted the strings of earrings away and suddenly, the hair on the nape of her neck lifted.

A human ear, studded with multiple earrings, dangled in the breeze.

100

Kelby gagged and dropped Gary’s boot. Without a shadow of a doubt the ear belonged to Stacie. She swallowed the bile that hung in the back of her throat and stunk in her nostrils. She wanted to scream, but kept it bottled inside her. Instead, she blinked rapidly.

The piece of flesh was blistered and charred. Some parts were mustard yellow and leathered while others had burnt black bits hanging off. Scorched flakes of blackened skin had peeled away, yet the ear still flapped about in the breeze on Stacie’s wind chime alongside her other earrings.

Kelby grabbed her phone and called Stacie. It rang and rang. No answer. Kelby gagged. She bent over and clung onto her heaving stomach.

When the nausea finally subsided, Kelby straightened. As she stood, a piece of paper fluttered alongside Stacie’s ear. Shivering with the horror of it all, she read the note:

Find rizado. We want it. If you blab to anyone, Annie is next. Don’t look for her.
She’s under lock and key.

Every instinct wanted to scream. She wanted to tell them, whoever they were, where to find rizado.

First, she had to find Annie. Kelby had no idea where, yet she had to start by searching the address Gary had hidden.

They had forced her to play their deadly game.

101

Olaf chuckled. The ear hanging on one of those stupid wind chimes had scared the shit out of the devil. He could have given her a showdown with the dragon there and then, but first he had to find out what she had found in the shed.

Still amused, he watched as the devil scurried down the garden path with what looked like an army boot under her arm and ran out into
the road.

Women! Always needing something sentimental to hang onto.

Her erratic zigzag made him think of a frantic sprinter who’d missed the starting gun. His eyes followed her as she suddenly spotted the giant’s car, sped up to it and hopped in. While she held up the boot to show the security guard, Olaf charged to his car hidden behind a delivery truck down the road. He decided to come back later for another poke around. He would easily tell if the devil had found anything. But now he had to follow her to see her next move.

A shot of adrenaline flashed through him. This Tag Two had become interesting. Even though he waited for the call for Tag One, he enjoyed following the rat’s trail.

First the brother, then the wife and now the sister.

Feeling the heat of an impending battle warming his body, he pulled off his sweat shirt. Even with the day’s chill biting at his flesh, he preferred to see his tattoos. The designs on his skin gave him different urges.

With one hand on the steering wheel, he flexed his fingers, crushing them into his palms.

Once again, his
animaal
instincts called.

102

As the cabbie sped along the long drive through the dense woodlands near the North Hampshire village of Homerton Grange, Barker spotted the rambling manor house that had been turned into Homerton Clinic.

A surge of excitement sent tingles coursing through him. He still couldn’t believe a replica rizado had been tested right here under his nose.

Homerton Clinic of Alternative Medicine had been one of his first investments. He recalled Willow putting him in touch with Gorden about further investments in Mata Gordo, but he’d not linked the two. Now he realised Gorden owned the clinic.

Instead of entering through the buttercup-yellow front door, he strode down the side of the mansion. Landscaped gardens and park benches overlooking water features were part of the façade, hiding the obscure ailments and cures taking place inside.

Willow waited in reception. ‘Gorden told me to expect you.’ He took Barker’s arm and led him along the corridor and down a flight of steps. ‘And he told me what to expect from you.’

‘Where the hell are we going?’

‘To my office.’ Barker nodded. ‘You show me the money, and I show you my lab. Fair exchange.’

At the bottom of the flight of stairs, Barker felt as if he was sinking into the bowels of the building. The extravagant décor and fresh smells of potpourri disappeared, leaving this part of the clinic with stark white walls and the claustrophobic smell of disinfectant. Willow ushered him into a windowless room. His gaze indicated Barker in.

Barker placed his briefcase on Willow’s desk and opened it. Inside, lined in the lid a letter opener’s decorative handle showed off an angel with expanded wings. Using a matching magnifying glass with a steel shaft Barker scribbled out a cheque. ‘I don’t carry this sort of cash.’

‘I know there’ll be no trouble cashing it.’ Willow said.

‘And don’t tell a soul I wear reading glasses.’

Willow’s bony fingers stretched for the cheque, his mouth drooling. Barker yanked the cheque back. ‘As patron of Homerton Clinic, I expect to see a return on my investment.’

Willow sighed. ‘Your investment? Or the rizado information?’

True to his name Willow looked flimsy with a flaky core. Something about the moron gave Barker the creeps. Not many people had that effect on him. Maybe it was those skeletal hands flexing out of his oversized suit in an agitated dither.

‘Both.’

Willow raised an eyebrow. ‘As I expected.’

Barker scowled and his eyes levelled at Willow. ‘You want the money?’ He waved the cheque in front of the doctor’s eyes. ‘You’ll notice it’s double.’

Willow’s eyes grew large, drunk with greed. Then, they narrowed at Barker. ‘What’s the price?’

‘This should take care of the brat’s private care and meds. Keep her doped-up for now.’

Willow’s eyes fastened onto the cheque’s zeroes, yet his fingers fiddled, leafing the paper corners and nodding like a rabid dog with a wagging tongue, desperate and eager to please.

The cheque had been signed.

Jon Barker Thompson.

103

Barker shook his head in disgust at the doctor who secretly tested new drugs on his patients. Washed-up and spineless, like driftwood on a beach, that was Willow.

Having morons at his mercy, he loved. But the morons themselves, he hated.

Willow said, ‘Come this way. I’ll show you what we’ve got so far.’

Barker nodded and followed Willow’s lanky frame. In the reception a nurse called out, ‘Doctor Willow, sorry to disturb you, but there’s been an emergency in the MT.’

Barker saw Willow hesitate. The flaky doctor couldn’t decide if his patient was more important than his investor. And MT was their code name for medical trials. He watched Willow for a moment and then helped him with his indecision. ‘Go. I’ll wait here.’

As Willow took a step to leave, another nurse stuck her head around the door, ‘Doctor Willow, there’s someone here to see you.’

‘Not now. I have an emergency in MT.’ Willow flapped his hands like dead branches in a winter wind.

Barker didn’t know what patient awaited Willow or what bizarre treatment the man would execute. Nor did he care.

The nurse persisted, ‘I know, doctor, but I thought you’d want to know about this too. A Doctor Robson said to give you this note. He said you’d fire me if I didn’t give it to you immediately.’

Willow grabbed the note she gave him and opened it so he and Barker could see.

The Carbonela symbol stared back at them.