The Lost Inheritance Mystery Page 7

  Sebastian shook his head. "I am afraid that point has passed a long time ago. We have never been close; there has always been a sibling rivalry between us, which has festered over the years into a septic wound now impossible to heal."

  Sebastian glanced at the mantle clock. "It will soon be time for me to leave. I have a luncheon to attend before the ball, so I'll show you to the room I want you to guard."

  On his journey into the deepest bowels of the castle, Furtive memorized every twist, turn, door and staircase. Though the guards posted in the house had so far been few, when his host paused at a door, rapped out a special code, called out a password and the door was unlocked and opened, that all changed. The revealed corridor was lined with two rows of four men; all had their gaze fixed upon the hunchback and all held a weapon. He followed Sebastian though the door, which was immediately locked as soon as they had passed through, and along the corridor. The guard's eyes followed his progress between them. They paused at a similar door at the far end. Sebastian took a key from his pocket, unlocked the door and they stepped into a small room.

  While Sebastian locked the door, Furtive glanced around the small chamber lit by a single flickering candle set in a bracket on one of the stone walls. It was completely empty and the only door was the one they just entered through. "I am surprised you need my services, Sebastian. Your security seems sufficiently robust to ward off any thief who has a notion to steal that which you obviously treasure."

  "Normally I would agree with you, but a short while ago Ebenezer's Butler made contact with a burglar of apparently extraordinary skills in the thieving department. His name is Furtive Freddy, a silly name I know but he probably thinks it sounds cool. It adds credence to the other information I was supplied with, that he is not the brightest of people."

  Furtive gritted his teeth. "Really, I have actually heard something of this man. Like you, I've heard say he is very good at his job, an expert thief and one much admired in my circle of thievery and murderous deeds. Against his intelligence I have heard no insult."

  "Oh, yes, apparently, he couldn't hit the floor if he fell on it, and would lose a debate with a door knob, and let me see, what else, oh yes…"

  "I've heard enough," said Furtive gruffly. He gazed around the bare chamber. "Is this the room you want me to guard?"

  "No." Sebastian walked to the far side and pressed a series of stone blocks in the wall.

  The muffled sounds of clanking chains were followed by the louder grinding of stone. Furtive watched in amazement as the wall on his right pivoted open to reveal stone steps spiraling down. "The room I want you to protect is down there."

  Brackets fixed to the back of the wall door held torches. Sebastian grabbed one and held the tip over the candle flame. The oil soaked rags wrapped around the end burst into flame. He turned to face Furtive, said, "Follow me," stepped through the opening and shot down the stairs.

  Furtive followed.

  The stone staircase illuminated by an occasional candle Sebastian lit during his descent, wound down through the rock a considerable depth before reaching bottom. Furtive stepped into the long chamber and watched his host move along its length lighting the three candelabra positioned in the room. The flickering light enabled Furtive to examine the room's details. Though the floor had been laid with smooth stone slabs, the walls were rough and arched like a natural cave. Stalactites of various thicknesses and lengths hung from the roof like a natural chandelier. Furtive stepped further into the room to examine the contents of the glass topped cabinets that lined each wall. His eyes roamed over displays of many different objects that obviously held some value to their owner. Some held books, open at particular pages adorned with archaic symbols and pictures that hinted heavily toward the occult. Others contained ancient documents, strange artifacts, rings, bracelets and amulets, grotesque figurines, shrunken heads; in fact the whole collection seemed to be biased toward the macabre and was a clue to their owner's personality.

  With a sizzle of speedily quenched flames, Sebastian extinguished the torch in a bucket of water beside the staircase and turned to face his guest. "Well, what do you think of my wonderful collection?"

  "I am afraid, Sebastian, they remain as much a mystery to me as my unfathomable talents do to you, but saying that, they are impressive, though I see no sign of the painting you wish me to guard."

  "That is because it has been very well concealed. All you need to know is it's here. The only entrance to the room is via the staircase, which can only be accessed through the secret wall door I alone know the correct sequence of blocks to press to gain access. This in turn is protected by the locked door at the end of a corridor packed with arms guards. To access the guard filled passage, as you witnessed me do earlier, a special knock and password has to be given, something which I change each time I visit this room. So, you see, though it is unlikely anyone will disturb you, if someone other than me comes down those stairs you can be assured their intention is to steal. When I return I will call out a password before descending…" he paused to think of one. "The password will be Rumpelstiltskin!"

  Furtive raised his bushy glued on eyebrows. "Rumpelstiltskin?"

  "Yes, the name no one could guess." Sebastian glanced at Furtive. Will you be using your fruit knife if an unwelcome visitor does make an appearance?"

  Furtive shrugged. "Maybe, but it is not the only weapon I bring into service." His hand moved so fast it was a blur and though Sebastian had no idea where the hunchback had concealed such a thing, it now pointed directly at him. "Sometimes I use this. It's a four-barreled blunderbuss I call Daisy."

  Sebastian stared down the four tubes of doom and gulped fearfully. "Daisy?" he croaked.

  Furtive grinned. "No, only kidding, sorry, it's my assassin's sense of humour. Its real name is Grave Filler."

  "Well, Sir, that certainly is catchier," Sebastian said anxiously. "Stuck under my nose like it is, I am certainly receiving an image of my grave, which I imagine anyone faced with this weapon in such a threatening manner, similar to like it is now, would gladly jump into to avoid the deadly repercussions when the trigger is pulled."

  "It's okay, Sebastian, even though it has a sensitive trigger, the safety is on…" He glanced along the side of the weapon. "Opps, silly me, no it isn't, this model doesn't have one." He pointed the weapon away from his host. "That was risky. You are a lucky man, Sebastian, a single twitch of my finger and, BOOM! your brains would have been on display around the room like all your macabre artefacts."

  Sebastian gulped. "Unlike my underpants, I certainly feel lucky, Mr. Murdersin." His shaking finger pointed to the far end of the room where a small lounge area had been set out. "As you can see, you will be quite comfortable down here. There are snacks, whiskey and cigars," he walked forward, picked up the ashtray from the low table and placed it on the arm of the single comfy chair, "and for your convenience, an ashtray. The hearth has been laid ready for you to light if you get cold."

  Furtive glanced at the stone fireplace located on one side. "Where does the smoke go?"

  "Luckily there was a natural fissure in the rock I could tap into." Sebastian's gaze flicked to the mantle clock. "I must leave you, I am already running late and due to a certain recent event, a particular piece of my attire desperately needs to be changed. I will lock all access points behind me and return in the morning, sooner if anyone attempts to rob me. Now, Mr. Murdersin, do you have any questions before I hurriedly leave?"

  Furtive shook his head. "About my responsibility here, you have covered every eventuality in such exact detail I am confident the very next person I see climb down those stairs will be you. This, I think, will turn out to be the easiest job I have ever undertaken. However, another related question springs to my lips, if I am guarding your painting, who will steal your brother's."

  "An astute question, Mr. Murdersin, I have employed another to complete that task: Shadow!"

  Furtive scoffed. "The Shadow is just a myth, nothing more than a legen
d."

  "Well, Mr. Murdersin, myth or not, tonight Shadow will steal Ebenezer's painting and bring it to me. I will return at dawn. Goodbye Mr. Murdersin." With a strained walk, Sebastian headed for the staircase.

  Furtive heard the wall at the top grind back into place and then silence. To check the man had really gone, he moved to the staircase and listened. All was silent. He moved to the far end of the room, laid Grave Filler on the table, poured a whisky, lit a cigar, reclined in the comfortable armchair and thought about what he had just heard. If Shadow existed, as Sebastian confidently asserted, and if the stories he had heard about him were true, and his mission was to obtain the painting, then it was a certainty he would succeed. He needed to find Sebastian's painting and get out of the castle as quick as possible so he could warn Butler, because as well as a thief, Shadow was also a ruthless assassin, anyone unlucky enough to become between Shadow and his assignment, would be killed!

  Sebastian's employment of Shadow, and no doubt Crakett's similar high fee, confirmed what he already thought to be true, Sebastian was lying and the paintings led to something a lot more valuable than a family heirloom of little worth.

  Furtive gazed around the room for the hiding place of Sebastian's painting.

  The hunchback opened his eyes, saw a dark moody sky high above and felt the first drops of rain falling from the heavens. Grateful his sickness had fled; he climbed to his feet and surveyed his surroundings lit by the dimness of sun set fast approaching, an indication he had been unconscious for a few hours. He gazed up the un-climbable side of the steep slope. The broken branches of bushes and flattened shrub marked his passage of descent. He was lucky not to have suffered any serious injury or worse. From the tool marks etched in the flat areas of rock, he guessed he had fallen into a disused quarry. Unsure of which direction led to Castle Drooge, he chose one at random and headed off through the quarry.

  Diablo, stirred. Its long hairy snout opened in a wide yawn that revealed every one of the sharp yellow teeth lining its powerful jaws. Claw tipped paws stretched out to ease the stiffness of sleep. Eyes flicked up to expose pupils as black as death in pools of evil red. Its nose twitched. Its head lifted. It drew into its flared nostrils the breeze wafting through the passage. The taint of human was in the air. A large pink tongue flicked over eager teeth in anticipation of the approaching meal. It had not tasted human for so long it had forgotten how good it tasted. With eagerness to refuel that memory, Diablo climbed to its feet and slunk toward the entrance to its lair.

  SHADOW

  With a mysterious name like Shadow, it is taken for granted that its namesake would not be wearing anything white or brightly coloured. Shadow's attire conformed to this assumption and was of the dark variety. So dark in fact, actual shadows were jealous. Along with dark clothes covering the figure from hooded head to black-booted toes, a facemask as black as a moonless midnight, completed the rationale behind the assassin thief's slightly creepy nom-de-plume. Belts, buttons and buckles, of which there were many―black naturally―were dull and would reflect no light to inform anyone who might happen to look in the assassin thief's direction that there was anyone there. An array of black-handled blades were arranged in positions of easy access, whatever the situation, over the slim black form. All had bright finely honed blades, but by the time anyone was unfortunate enough to have noticed the glint of the weapon, they were already dead.

  Shadow, though hard to distinguish from the slightly lighter shadows the silent form moved through, was currently crossing through the grounds of Drooge Manor. So furtive were Shadow's creeping skills, Furtive Freddy would have paused in amazement and observed in the hope of learning something new. So light and stealthy was Shadow's progress, not a blade of grass was disturbed in passing. Insects and creatures of the night failed to witness the dark presence. A bat on the hunt for the aforementioned creatures sent out its sonar and dismissed Shadow's feedback as a glitch. The men employed by Sebastian to observe the comings and goings of Drooge Manor, received no hint of the intruder's presence, even when Shadow took a brief rest beside one of them, slipped the man's cigarettes and matches from his pocket, lit and smoked one using the man's head as an ashtray, and replaced the pilfered items before moving on.

  Shadow made a complete circuit of the large house before pausing at the front entrance. Though a few entry points that would allow access to the house undetected had been discovered during the detailed reconnoiter, Shadow decided on a more direct access point. A black clad finger reached for the bell-push.

  Butler and Lurch were in Ebenezer's study going over their part of the plan. Having just explained to Lurch what he had to do for the tenth time, it was something Butler was finding a little frustrating. "Okay Lurch, so you are sure you now know what you have to do?"

  Lurch nodded none too convincingly. "Yes, Mr. Butler, I think I certainly have it all in my head now."

  TRING! TRING!

  Butler's eyes flicked to look through the open doorway and across the hallway to settle on the front door. Drooge Manor rarely had visitors at any time of the year, but to have a caller tonight when the two brother's shenanigans were at their peak, raised his hackles of suspicion to a new height.

  Butler grabbed the blunderbuss pistol from the table. "Go and see who that is Lurch, but keep your eyes open."

  Lurch looked at Butler strangely. "I usually do when I answer the door, Mr. Butler."

  "That' good, and whatever you do, don't let anyone in unless I say it's okay."

  "Yes, Sir, I understand." Lurch lurched out of the room and across the hall.

  Butler hid to one side of the study door and listened to the front door creak open.

  Lurch, surprised to see no one standing there, leaned his body forward and looked left and right. He straightened and turned his head. "There's no one here, Mr. Butler."

  Butler's head appeared round the door frame, his eyes roaming the hall suspiciously. "Close the door."

  Lurch closed the door and with an impressed expression, watched as Butler sprung from the study with the pistol held in a two-handed grip and searchingly did a sweep of the hall.

  Noticing a white strand of hair on Butler's shoulder, Shadow picked it off as he passed and let it drift to the ground. By the time it landed gently on the floor, Shadow was in another part of the house.

  Butler relaxed. "I don't like it, Lurch."

  "What is it you don't like, Sir?"

  The door bell ringing and no one there. I don't like it; something's up."

  "You think it might have been a trick, Sir?"

  "I'm sure it was, perhaps a distraction. Let's double check all the rooms, we'll start downstairs and work our way up. Check every window and door is securely locked and look for anything suspicious or out of place."

  "Sorry, Sir, but what happens after double checking every room, my mind sort of went a bit adrift after that?"

  Butler sighed. "Follow me and do as I do, and you don't have to keep calling me, Sir or Mr. Butler, just Butler is fine."

  "Okay, Mr. Butler, Sir, I'll try and remember that."

  Butler, with little confidence that Lurch would, crouched slightly with the gun held out in front in a double-handed grip and entered the closest room to the front door.

  Lurch, keen to follow Butler's instructions as closely as he was able, achieved a similar stance, clasped his hands in front and using pointed figures to mimic the weapon, followed Butler into the room.

  Diablo crouched at the entrance to its lair set into side of the quarry and watched the strange human below walk by. Though different from any other human it had seen, which to be fair wasn't many, it had been a very long time since anyone had dared to venture into the quarry, it was encouraged by the amount of meat on display. The big lump on its back seemed especially tender and tasty. A tongue flicked out to lap up the drool escaping from its teeth filled mouth. Silently it slithered along the track cut into the rock and, careful not to alert its dinner that it was on the menu, Diablo climbe
d down toward it.

  From his position in the arm chair, Furtive's eyes had surveyed the whole room. Every nook, cranny, fissure and object had been scrutinized. With very few hiding places available, he had reached the conclusion something the size of the rolled up painting could only be hidden in one place. He tilted his head to examine the stalactites. His burglar senses tingled. One of them was not what it seemed. He stubbed out the cigar in the ashtray, something Sebastian would be thankful for, drained the last of the excellent whiskey from his glass and climbed to his feet. He moved over to the small desk against the wall, grabbed the back of the antique chair and dragged it beneath the stalactite that held his interest. He climbed on the chair and rapped on it. A hollow thud rang out. Furtive smiled. After a few moments studying its form, he gripped it with both hands and twisted. It turned. One more twist and it was free. He jumped from the chair, peered into the hollow stalactite and saw what Ebenezer desperately wanted to get his hands on. He slipped out the painting and laid it on the desk. A hand reached over his shoulder, slipped beneath his coat collar and into the secret compartment of the hollow hump. He pulled out a similar sized rolled painting to the one he had removed and was just about to slip it into the hollow stalactite, when he remembered Butler's warning not to look at. Something he promptly ignored. He unrolled the painting and looked. It took his brain a moment to piece all the details together but when they did it was sorry. Being Furtive's brain it had experienced foul, disgusting and horrifying events on a daily basis, but this was something so much worse and totally unimaginable. Furtive quickly turned his head away, but his eyes, not quite able to believe what they had just witnessed, snuck another peek. Brain, eyes and indeed the owner of both, all thought it was the most horrendous and evil thing they had ever encountered. Furtive quickly rolled it up, stuffed it into the stalactite, jumped on the chair and fixed it back in position. He returned the chair to the desk, gazed back at the stalactite and shivered. He almost felt sorry for Sebastian.