Ash (56 page)

Haelstrom’s features scrunched together again. ‘What is it, Derriman? Can’t you see I’m busy?’

‘It’s the memory stick you wanted,’ the thin, stooped man persisted, entering the office and holding up a small flash drive. Ash noticed he still wore the wide sticking plaster across his brow, now somewhat grubby. He imagined the nurses had been kept rather too busy lately to tend to minor injuries such as Andrew Derriman’s cut forehead.

‘Memory stick?’ asked Haelstrom gruffly.

‘Yes. You remember? The file on Hoyle? You wanted it completed today.’

Derriman stretched his arm across the desk and the investigator caught sight of the device. A row of numbers was stamped along one side.

Haelstrom turned away and walked across his office to a neat row of grey metal cabinets. Their drawers were long and narrow, Ash noticed, much like safety deposit boxes, except these compartments were only deep enough for a memory stick. Each bore a different letter of the alphabet. Haelstrom unlocked the drawer marked H, deposited the stick and locked it again immediately.

H for Hoyle
, thought Ash. He could have cursed out loud as he realized the significance. He had with him the other numerals he’d written down from the isolated clearing in the woods. If he could match the numbers from his notebook to the computer files, he could find out who was in that odd, eerie graveyard – discover some, at least, of Comraich’s secrets. His fingers closed around the notebook in his pocket. He could have grinned, but maintained a sober expression as he found Haelstrom staring hard at him from under his bushy eyebrows.

He spoke over Ash’s shoulder to his office manager. ‘That will be all, Derriman. I assume everything’s there.’

‘I think you’ll find the file includes all the pertinent points, Sir Victor,’ Derriman replied meekly, already backing away to the door.

Haelstrom brought him to a halt just before he could escape. ‘Mr Ash, here, is accusing somebody of destroying his equipment.’

‘I’m—’ Ash began, only to be cut off by Haelstrom.

‘He’s accusing us of vandalism,’ the big man interrupted, sitting once more, seemingly enjoying the game. ‘Would you know anything about that, Andrew?’

‘Of-of c-course not, Sir Victor,’ Derriman stammered. ‘N-none of our people w-w-would have interfered with Mr Ash’s instruments.’

‘There you have it, Mr Ash. An honest answer from an honest man, one whose loyalty is never in doubt. After all, what would we gain?’

He leaned his elbows on the desk before him and turned his bellicose face towards the investigator. ‘Now then, I only say that because of the exceptionally unusual experiences of the last few weeks, particularly the dining-room incident last night, a plague of biblical proportions. So, to spoil your chances of uncovering the mysteries surrounding Comraich would hardly be in our own interests, wouldn’t you say? Precisely. It would be both peculiar and self-destructive on our part. I’m of the opinion that nothing now can be done to expurgate the problem before our conference later this evening. I cannot postpone it, because it would inconvenience too many important people. A problem of timing, you see. There will be twelve members arriving and all will be leaving in the morning, unless a certain decision has not been agreed, in which case the meeting will continue tomorrow until a consensus has been reached.’

He stared hard at the investigator. ‘
So
.’ He underscored the word. ‘So what I expect of you, Ash, is to do all you can to
control
,’ he emphasized once again, ‘these, these . . .’ He was lost for a description. ‘All right, then, let’s call them spirits, who are creating such havoc at Comraich. Do what you can to lessen their power, make use of some kind of liturgical mumbo-jumbo if you wish. Voodoo, exorcism . . .’ Haelstrom tailed off, apparently out of ideas. He was virtually imploring Ash now. ‘There must be something . . .’

Ash sighed. ‘I’m no witch doctor,’ he said caustically. He disliked Sir Victor Haelstrom intensely, but he’d never let antipathy impair an investigation. Nor did he like to fail a client, however obnoxious. He felt his own professionalism was at stake.

‘Look, there’s hardly anything I can do to stop what’s happening. I thought my job was either to find the cause – be it that ghosts were haunting Comraich, or something else. With most of my instruments ruined, I can’t give you an answer either way. I’ve advised abandoning the castle until it’s left in peace . . .’ He held up a hand to ward off the big man’s protests. ‘And I understand that’s impossible. But it might just be that the unearthly influences have used up their power with last night’s attack. To conjure up such a potent manifestation as the maggots and flies would have taken up so much energy on their part – we can hope it has depleted their strength.’

Haelstrom appeared to see that as a welcome sign. His face lit up expectantly.

‘Wait, wait,’ the investigator cautioned him. ‘I said
may have
. We just don’t know yet how strong these forces are. I believe they’re being channelled into our world by someone or something, here.’ He did not add that the something might be the very fabric of the castle itself, the evil that had existed here through the centuries. The killings, the tortures, the outrages, even the wicked plotting of the cruel minds that had dwelt here – dark deeds and bloody savagery that might still resonate to this day. Although Haelstrom’s scepticism had vanished, he might have baulked at that possibility.

‘This is what I suggest we do,’ Ash said, and he could see he had the big man’s full attention now. He would go along with any idea the investigator proposed as long as it didn’t require the evacuation of the castle.

‘Yes?’ Haelstrom prompted, eager to clutch at any straw.

‘Well, it would seem likely that there are malign spirits here that actually seek to do Comraich and its tenants harm – whether or not it was they who ruined my equipment. That being the case, we can only fight against these entities in a physical way.’

‘So, your proposal?’ he said impatiently.

‘We keep the guests tranquillized, maybe even comatose.’

The big man nodded once, but said nothing more.

‘Then we use your guards, position them all over the castle, secure the building. Even spirits can be intimidated by the living.’ Ash shrugged, as if finished.

‘That’s it? Use our own guards to fight off these unearthly beings?’

‘That’s what I’m saying,’ Ash replied.

‘It’s not much of a strategy, is it?’

‘It’s all we’ve got.’

Haelstrom looked around the investigator as if surprised. ‘Derriman . . . you’re still here?’

‘Y-yes, Sir Victor.’

Ash turned to look at Comraich’s general manager; he’d also forgotten the tall but timorous man was still in the room.

‘Have you anything to add?’ Haelstrom asked impatiently.

‘Well, well no, not exactly,’ came the reply. ‘But, but I did wonder about something Mr Ash has told us.’

Ash raised his eyebrows in surprise. Perhaps Derriman was not altogether timid, for his last words were bolder than usual.

‘Then speak up, man,’ growled Haelstrom, his features screwed into a fearsome frown.

‘I seem to recall that Mr Ash mentioned that these wraiths, if that’s the right word, were being “channelled” through someone or something already here at Comraich. Is that correct, Mr Ash?’

‘Yes. Like a conduit, a paranormal channel. Or the corruption may have already been entrenched through generations of inhumane practices that have taken place here throughout history.’

‘But still brought forward by this mysterious someone or something.’ Derriman was becoming more confident as he spoke.

‘That’s right,’ Ash agreed.

‘And you think it’s being drawn from below.’

‘Get to the point, man,’ snapped Haelstrom.

Nervous again, Derriman looked past Ash at his boss. ‘Sir Victor, the people in the . . . the cells in the sub-basement? The containment area?’

‘What about them?’

Derriman gave several quick, nervous nods of his head. ‘The woman in the last cell?’

‘I’ve seen her.’ Ash swung round to face Haelstrom again. ‘The one whose cell is filled with graffiti drawn in excrement and blood.’ He drew in a breath. ‘Who is she?’ He wheeled round again, knowing he’d receive no honest reply from Haelstrom. ‘Who is she, Andrew?’

Comraich’s general manager began to stammer again, this time his words incoherent, all the while peering past Ash at his boss, who remained behind his desk, his odd features still bundled into a taut frown.

‘What is he trying to say, Sir Victor?’ Ash said determinedly. ‘Just who is this woman? When did she come here and who pays for her keep, such as it is?’

Haelstrom ignored the rebuke, yet suddenly seemed resigned, his shoulders actually sagging so that, unexpectedly, he looked smaller to Ash.

‘She came to Comraich when she was just a baby, a few months after the war with Germany had begun. She was still in arms, I don’t know how old exactly. God, it was long before I came here. I wasn’t even born. I don’t know the whole story.’

‘I think you do,’ Ash pushed quietly. Derriman had closed the door again and was hovering in the background.

Haelstrom peered up at Ash, some of the harshness returning. ‘Client confidentiality, Mr Ash. Client confidentiality,’ he intoned again.

‘You need my help? I need more information.’

The big man sighed in resignation. ‘All right, then, take a seat and listen closely. There isn’t much I can tell you from my own knowledge, just an archive report I’ve read.’

Ash pulled a chair nearer to the desk and said nothing more that might cause the big man to close down.

‘She has remained at Comraich since the day she was secretly brought here. In all her lifetime she has never left, not even for a day.’

‘What’s her name?’ The question was put bluntly but softly.

‘That I cannot divulge under any circumstances.’

‘Was she always insane?’

‘Mr Ash, she was abnormal from birth. Now they would call it Down’s syndrome.’

‘Down’s syndrome children are generally happy individuals,’ said Ash.

‘She wasn’t. She always liked to be solitary, threw tantrums when she was approached unless it was someone bringing her food.’

‘Has she always been locked away?’

‘I’m not sure. Certainly since before I arrived here. But her confinement is as much for her own protection as anything else.’

This time Derriman spoke up. ‘The archive report said she was never expected to live more than five years. It was a great surprise that she passed twenty, but somehow she has now lived more than seventy years.’

‘Christ, she looks a hundred!’ exclaimed Ash.

Ash was flustered.
What kind of parents would have allowed her to live her whole life like this?
‘She had a nanny?’ he asked. ‘A wet nurse; someone to be with her, play with her, comfort her?’

Haelstrom cleared his throat gruffly. ‘Over the years, she’s had several companions. But in my experience she has always been difficult to deal with and most of the time wanted nothing more than to be on her own.’

‘Surely she hasn’t always been alone in that cell, three floors below ground level?’ protested Ash, aghast.

‘She was placed there after she went completely insane. By then, it was actually dangerous to go near her. She posed a threat to the other guests.’

Derriman piped up again. ‘Doctors here did try to help her, and she was visited by people in authority for some time following her arrival.’

‘So at what age did she become totally insane?’

‘Fifteen years.’

‘Fifteen years of age?’ Ash was incredulous and infuriated.

‘As I said,’ answered Derriman, ‘the doctors at Comraich did try to help with her symptoms. Eventually though, they had to calm her with drugs. They also tried some experimental treatment.’

It was as if his blood had frozen. He felt numb. ‘What kind of treatment?’

‘Mainly sensory deprivation. It seems rather barbaric now, like electro-convulsive therapy, but it was thought to be a promising avenue at the time. She was left alone in a pitch-black room and placed in a shallow bath of saline water. But then she went into a deep coma from which she could not be roused.’

‘Surely she wasn’t left in that dark room?’

‘The experiment lasted for three months, I believe. At the end of it she was taken to one of the smaller hospital rooms. Still she could not be woken, although the brain was functioning, so some kind of mental activity was going on. She dreamt, David. She dreamt all the time. The doctors could see the constant movement of her pupils under her closed eyelids. The coma lasted for three years. When she finally awoke she was still quite insane and soon there was no alternative but to put her in the containment area, where she has remained ever since, a danger to herself and others who tried to help.’

Derriman looked across at Haelstrom questioningly. ‘Shall I say about . . . ?’

The big man glowered from behind his desk. Finally, he said, ‘I suppose it can do no more harm, and yes, it will put Ash fully in the picture regarding the woman’s insanity as well as explaining our . . . well, our revulsion of her. Tell him.’

Ash turned to Derriman, who wore a look of both sadness and discomfort. The investigator, intrigued, waited for him to begin.

After several moments of thought, the slightly stooped man began to speak. ‘When she was in her late teens, she had a child. Nobody knows who the father was; perhaps another patient or a perverted guard.’

Derriman, obviously a sensitive soul despite his status in this strange and questionable establishment, gave a spasm-like shiver. While he waited for the man to continue, Ash noticed Haelstrom staring down at his desktop, a look of disgust drawing his pinched features even tighter.

Derriman took in a long breath. ‘Nobody even noticed her pregnancy beneath the shapeless gown she wore. It would seem that she gave birth entirely on her own in the dungeon.’

At last Derriman had finally admitted that the sub-basement was a dungeon rather than a euphemistically named ‘containment area’. The investigator did not look, but he imagined Haelstrom was cringing behind his desk.