Adduné - the Vampire's Game (13 page)

He crawled on his knees towards the door and pushed it shut. He rolled over on his stomach and raised himself up on his left arm in a yogic cobra position – hips on the floor and torso raised. With his right hand he pressed down on his lumbar region. It hurt like hell, but he held the position. He very slowly and carefully twisted his torso to the right and left. He raised himself up a little higher and really pushed down. He moved to his right and felt something snap. Just as suddenly his pain disappeared. He rolled over on his back triumphant that his self-healing had worked. He’d be fine now. He just needed to keep his belt on and really bend his knees when lifting so he didn’t set it off again.

He rolled over on his back and moved a bit from side to side, enjoying how good it felt to be free of the pain that had burdened him for the entire day. He relaxed smiling up at the ceiling.

“
Herbert …”

Funny, he thought he heard his name called. He lay, not moving, wondering where it came from. It didn’t seem like it came from out in the hall, but it must have since he was alone in the room. The perplexing thing was that it seemed to come from behind that stone wall on the other side of the …

“
Her-bert …”

Herb snapped his head and stared at the wall. The lights flickered a moment before they went out. Herb lay in total darkness – left to wonder where the deep, raspy voice originated. He felt the cold floor beneath him wondering how the temperature could have dropped. It had been freezing, but now? It was unbearably cold. His teeth began chattering. He felt frightened and stupid about being scared. There were people less than two feet away if only he could get up, and open the door, and …

“
Her-bert … Her-bert. I want you to come here, Her-bert. Now, Her-bert …”
the voice hissed in a drawn out whisper.

The voice sounded old – ancient. It was the voice of a terminally ill patient, or a person weakened to the point of incapacity. Why was he was hearing it? Where the hell was it coming from? He was alone. Utterly and completely alone.

The lights came on for a moment, and just as quickly shut off. He lay on the cold ground, surrounded by complete darkness. As if things were bad enough. He wondered if the problem extended into the hallway. He didn’t hear any of the men grumbling. Usually they would if external causes prevented them from doing their work. Their silence confirmed that the lights had decided to go crazy only in the room he was working in. Damn it! He shrugged it off. Being isolated had partially worked out. It had kept his secret safe and that was the main thing. He was sorry he didn’t bring his tools from home. He was quite the handyman and bet he could have had the wiring fixed in no time.

Slowly he rose to his feet as the lights flickered and disappeared. All he had to do was feel for the door handle and turn it. He shuffled in the direction of the door. Suddenly, the lights sprang to life – sputtering and allowing him brief packets of sight. His eyes spotted the candles that Reginald had brought down. They were right where he left them – on the ledge.

He took one long, white taper by its base – holding it in his shaking hands. He reached into his pocket and retrieved the cigarette lighter his wife had given to him for his birthday. He didn’t smoke and they didn’t have a fireplace, but she had given it to him anyway – just in case. He flipped back the top and used his thumb to summon up a flame. He lit it just in time – the lights went off again. He held his only source of illumination – the burning taper.

He grabbed a holder from the ledge and considered going into the hallway, but why? There was still work that needed doing and now he had the light to do it. He made his way to the table taking care that the flame didn’t go out. He looked down at the table and saw a pair of cobalt candlesticks were next to be packed. His hand touched the tag and saw the number 23. He placed the base down and put the candle in its center when …

“
Herbert … let me out. Now!”

The insistent tone had become irresistible. He needed to obey. Herb’s right hand tensed. He pulled both numbered tags off the silver holders. He stared at them wondering why he would do something that insane. The numbers needed to stay on the items. He’d heard Sy say that. Then why had he ripped them off?

He didn’t know. He didn’t know that anymore than he knew why he’d picked up the candle and was headed towards the wall. Herb fought against lifting his right hand and pressing against the large chunk of mottled stone tinged with pink. It gave the impression that it had been washed in blood. His shivering left hand held the candle. He wished he could control it. He wished he could steady it and make it …

Against his will, he pressed into it. A rumbling sound occurred as a hidden door swung to the side by means of an old hinge. Herb looked into the black tunnel wondering how he’d known it was there. And how he’d determined what stone to press. He didn’t know the answer to either of those questions. He only knew that he had to follow his master’s voice – and do as he said. He was waiting.

Herb raised the light and tried to see how far the tunnel went. The light wasn’t strong enough to pierce the darkness and so Herb started walking, not sure how far his journey would be. It was even colder in the tunnel. His lips were trembling – his face tensed. He walked slowly – deliberately – towards the voice that beckoned him. In the entire world, there was only one thing left to do, and that was to find the voice, and set his master free.

Herb continued to walk taking care not to hit his head on the low overhanging ceiling. The tunnel veered to the left. As he made the soft, graceful arc, the light of the candle exposed an ugly truth. There in the center of a hidden room was a single wooden box. It was propped up by means of a meager skeleton frame. Herb approached it unsteadily. He didn’t want to, but had no choice. He was compelled – his will was no longer his own. He ran the light down the length of it, taking a closer look at the box that contained his master. He recognized it now for what it was – a coffin. It was the kind used for peasants – to intern them in a pauper’s grave. The wood looked aged – as if it had been unearthed after years of being buried deep underground.

He stroked the knotty, discolored wood with his free hand. Although made of cheap pine, it was beautiful. It was the most beautiful coffin he’d ever seen because of what it contained. It contained him – the only one that mattered. Herb would never have to worry about making a living again. He wouldn’t have to worry about jobs ... or a wife … or feeding and caring for his children. He wouldn’t have to worry about growing old … or dying. He’d live … forever.

The knowledge brought tears to his ears. He took hold of the hammer hanging from the loop on his belt. He had to get these nails out. He had to get them out … so his master could be freed … so they both could be …

“
Herb! Herb! Where are you!”

Herb awoke from the wonderful dream with a start. He was standing in a darkened room that he’d never seen before. He didn’t even know for sure how he’d gotten here. He was in the other room and the other room was where?

He saw a faint light coming from the tunnel. Maybe the lights in the workroom had finally come one. He looked down at the coffin. Whose was it and why did he have a hammer in his hand? Was he going to open a coffin? Why? Why would he do something so crazy? What in bloody hell had gotten into him?

“
Herb!”

He tucked the hammer quickly in his belt loop and ran his hands together. Christ! What was he going to do now? He recognized the voice – it was Sy. Sy had come back and Herb was soddin’ off on the job. He’d fire him – on the spot. He heard the footsteps. Pacing back and forth looking for him. He’d have to think fast. Herb put one of the tags on top of the coffin – pocketing the other. He called out to Sy.

‘
In here, sir!”

Herb stood with his hand on the coffin. Sy peeked his head in and unsuredly entered.

“
Herb? What in blazes are you doing here? What is this place?”

“
Just another storage area, Mr. Charles came down himself and told me about it. He left it out of his talk that he had with you this morning.”

Sy was no fool. He put his hands on his hips staring into Herb’s face – just waiting for something to give away the fact that he was lying to him. Herb didn’t fold. He had to pull this off. He wasn’t a very good liar, but this time he needed to find it in him to be a consummate one.

“
Now why would he do that? I mean, come to you and not to me?”

“
He was lookin’ for you, but all he found was me … Justin had run upstairs on a break.”

“
Yes, I noticed Justin wasn’t there, but what is this? A coffin? Why on earth would they want us to ship a coffin?”

“
Not a coffin, sir. Not anymore. They just used it for packing is all. It’s what’s inside that’s important – too important for us to see. That’s why it’s nailed shut.”

“
They’ve never done that before. Why this time? And why here? It’s freezing in here – even worse than out there!”

“
That’s why, sir. He said they put pictures in here.”

“
Pictures? Pictures wouldn’t fit in here! The frames would be too big … “

“
Not framed, sir. Just canvases. They’re very old and delicate. They can’t have light on them. And heat makes the colors fade. They packed ‘em up because they can’t be handled and they didn’t trust us to not damage them.”

Sy rubbed his chin with his hand. He didn’t know about this. It didn’t sound right and yet it did. He had the gut feeling Herb was lying to him, but why? And why was a coffin in a tunnel? He had it. He loudly snapped his fingers in Herb’s face.

“
Oh, really? Well, if they’re that old, then why would they be in a 19
^th
century collection? That’s what Mr. Charles told me this was when I was talking to him. Paintings old enough to disintegrate have got to go back farther than that! Admit it, you’re making this all up! Why, I don’t know, but … Hey, wait a minute! Justin left and you came back here to catch a nap, you lazy bugger! Wait until I tell …”

“
No, these aren’t part of that collection, sir. They’re sending it with the collection, but to be restored. Someone at the museum does that kind of work and is doing it for them.”

Herb kept his eyes ahead – trying hard not to blink. He had a nervous habit of rapidly blinking his eyes when he was lying. He was glad his wife wasn’t here. She’d have known just by looking at him he was telling a big fat one.

Sy listened to what he said and again, it made sense, but was it true? Why would they have started doing things differently? They always had implicit trust in Blanding’s and … that was it! Arthur Perry wasn’t running things anymore! Frank Blanding had been right. The new owner was using this to test them, but still it wouldn’t explain Mr. Charles leaving out that they were shipping a coffin.

“
I don’t know. It doesn’t sound right to me. I think I need to go up and ask Mr. Charles about this. You wait right here until I return,” he said leaning into Herb’s face, “And Lord help you if he doesn’t back your story, young man. You’ll be in big trouble! Big trouble indeed!”

Sy turned to leave. He took a step away. Herb needed to do something – and fast. If Sy checked with Reginald Charles, Sy would know he’d made the whole thing up. He couldn’t have that. Not now … not when he’d come so close.

“
Right you are, sir. Except he’ll be real mad about you not following instructions.”

Sy stopped and looked at Herb over his shoulder.

“
What are you talking about? What instructions am I not following?

“
The instructions to send everything that was tagged,” Herb said using his hand to quickly smooth down the tag he’d placed on top of the coffin. Number 23.

Sy whirled around. Herb withdrew his hand and tried hard to appear nonchalant. Sy walked up to the coffin and saw the tag affixed to it. This was a test. If Sy went and asked Reginald Charles to clarify instructions he’d already given, it would look bad for Blanding’s. It would mean that Sy couldn’t be trusted to interpret instructions and that Sy’s team couldn’t be trusted to pass on simple information.

“
Sorry, Herb. It’s just that this is most unusual.”

“
I understand, sir. No offense taken. I was a bit surprised myself. It being so dark in here and all.”

They heard footsteps in the other room.

“
That you, Justin?” Sy called out.

“
Yes, it is, sir!”

“
Well, get in here and give Herbie and me a hand. We got a coffin to load! It’ll be put in one of our boxes first though.”