Ghost Song (35 page)

‘Something wrong?' said Hal, and with the words Flora suddenly saw that one of the pools of shadow was too sharply outlined. That's where the trap is, she thought. That's what I've been seeing.

Rinaldi said, ‘Someone's opened the grave trap.'

The words sent a cold thrill of horror through Flora, but she moved cautiously towards the yawning blackness near the centre, and Hal left his post by the winch and joined her. Seen closer, the open trap had an eerie resemblance to an open grave. It's just the name, she thought.

‘It is open,' said Hal. ‘Although I don't quite understand…'

‘Well, sir, the trap's floor is always kept up here—to be flush with the stage. If an actor has to be lowered during a performance, he is. If it's the end of a scene we probably leave the platform down until the curtain's fallen, but mostly we bring it back up into place. That's the safe thing to do, you see. It's a quiet mechanism and the audience don't hear it being worked, or if they do, they don't know what it is. It was originally used for graveyard scenes—
Hamlet
and all of that,' said Rinaldi. ‘We don't do much of that kind of thing now, but the trap's useful for panto sometimes. Demon kings and transformation scenes. But it's never
ever
left open like this—why, I made sure it was in place myself when we locked up on Monday night, I really did.'

He sounded genuinely upset, and Flora said, ‘Then someone's opened it since then.'

Someone trapped down there in the dark, trying to get out?

They looked at one another. Hal said, ‘Is that possible? If the twins really were trapped, could they operate that machine from down there?'

‘It'd be difficult, sir. It's a heavy old thing, that platform—it's made of iron, in fact. But I suppose if you were desperate you might just about raise it from underneath.'

If you were desperate… If you were imprisoned in the dark, without food or water…

‘Raise it to escape then lower it afterwards?' said Hal. ‘That seems unlikely. But let's take a look.'

The lantern's light poured straight down into the open shaft. There were the wooden struts, stretching all the way down, with, almost at the bottom, the iron platform.

‘If you tilt the lantern a bit more that way, sir, we can look all the way down—'

As Hal tilted the lantern, the light fell straight onto the platform at the bottom. Flora gasped and was aware of Rinaldi's soft cry in Italian. Something lay awkwardly on the platform: something whose sightless eyes were wide and staring, and whose face was the colour of clay.

Hal said, ‘Dear God, it's one of the twins. And I'm afraid he's dead.'

‘Are you sure, sir?'

‘Not entirely, but—wind this thing up, Rinaldi. We'll have to get him back up here. Flora, you'd better wait at the side of the stage.'

Rinaldi was already at the winch mechanism, throwing his weight into raising the trap as quickly as possible. It seemed to move easily enough, but it was not, as he had said, entirely noiseless, and to Flora's ears the sounds were dreadfully like the moaning of a man dying slowly in the pitch dark.

As the floor of the trap came level with the stage, she tried to look away, but could not. The twin—they still did not know which of them it was—lay in that same grotesque huddle. Dried, darkened blood spattered the edges of the iron floor, which Flora found grisly in the extreme.

Hal dragged the body clear, and bent over to examine it. ‘I think it's Stefan,' he said. ‘Slightly longer hair than his brother.'

‘Yes, that's Stefan,' said Flora, determined not to give way to emotion of any kind. ‘Is he dead?' she said, as Hal felt for a heartbeat.

‘I'm afraid he is, poor chap.'

‘But where's Anton?' said Flora. ‘Still down there?'

They looked at one another. ‘We'll have to find out,' said Hal, at last. ‘Rinaldi, if I stand on the platform, will you winch it down again?'

‘Not alone, sir,' said Rinaldi, at once. ‘Why, you don't know if that other one mightn't be lying in wait for you. I'll come with you.'

‘But that means Flora would have to operate the mechanism,' said Hal.

‘I could do that,' said Flora, eyeing the wheel and the pulleys.

‘Could you?'

‘I don't see why not. Let's try.'

‘Rinaldi, you hold the lantern. And watch for Anton.'

‘You'll feel it stop when it reaches the bottom,' said Rinaldi to Flora as the two men took up their places on the trap's floor. ‘But we'll call up to tell you anyway.'

The winch was heavier than Flora had expected, but she managed to turn it reasonably easily. As the platform began to descend, the lantern flickered wildly, casting eerie shadows upwards onto the two men's faces, and Flora found it deeply disturbing to be lowering them into that sinister blackness, where Anton Reznik might be waiting for them, no longer entirely sane after being imprisoned in pitch darkness for three days. She glanced nervously at Stefan's prone body. Had it moved just then? Or let out a little pleading sigh? No, it was only the flickering and hissing of the gas jets.

She was thankful to feel the platform bump to a stop and to hear Hal's voice calling up that they were safely down, and she left the machinery and went back to the open trap, kneeling at the edge, peering down to see what was happening. She could not see either Hal or Rinaldi, but she could see movement and the lantern light, and after a moment Hal's voice came up to her again, echoing slightly.

‘Flora? We've found Anton, and he's alive. But he's only just conscious, so we're putting him onto the platform to get him out. Can you wind it back up when I give the word?'

‘Yes, of course.'

The return journey was a grim one. The old machinery creaked badly this time—to Flora's ears it sounded more than ever like the groans of a dying man—and with the three men on the iron floor it was heavier than before. But it reached the stage and Rinaldi sprang off the platform and came into the wings to lock the wheel into place.

Anton lay prone on the iron oblong, and at first Flora thought he was dead after all; his face was grey and his eyes were closed. But then she saw him blink and half open his eyes, and she realized that although his face was thin and sharp, he was alive. There were livid bruises on his hands and crusted blood where his nails had been torn away. Had he, then, tried to get through the cellar door?

Hal said, ‘Flora, could you get some water for him? And some brandy as well if you can find any.'

‘Yes, of course,' said Flora, glad to be able to do something. ‘There might be some brandy in the dressing rooms, and if not, I'll run over to the Linkman.' When she got to her feet she found she was shaking so much she was afraid she would not be able to walk, but she forced her legs to obey her and once in the green room filled a tall jug with water. By a happy chance someone had left a half-full bottle of brandy in a dressing-room cupboard; Flora snatched this up along with a small cup.

‘Only a few sips of water at a time,' Rinaldi said. ‘Or he will get stomach cramps.'

The water, and then a small amount of brandy, revived Anton slightly, and when Hal said, ‘Reznik, are you hurt anywhere except your hands?' he said, ‘Not much hurt.' The words came in a dry, difficult whisper. ‘But Stefan—' He broke off. ‘Stefan is dead,' he said.

‘He is. I'm so sorry,' said Hal gently.

‘Are you?' Even like this, Anton's eyes glittered with hatred as he looked at Hal.

‘Anton, we're all desperately sorry about Stefan,' said Flora. The words came out awkwardly, because she was trying not to remember that embarrassing, frightening intimacy of three nights ago. ‘You do understand it was an accident that you were trapped down there?' she said. ‘We made an arrangement for you to be let out, but it went wrong.'

‘No accident,' said Anton. ‘This is your revenge.' He turned to look at Hal and Flora flinched at the expression in his eyes.

‘It
was
an accident,' she said before Hal could speak. ‘Of course it was. You must know we wouldn't have left you down there.'

‘What I know is that my brother died and I nearly died also.'

Rinaldi was binding Anton's torn hands and fingers, using a ripped-off piece of curtain soaked in the water Flora had brought. Anton gasped in pain several times, but then seemed to relax a little.

‘You've been remarkably lucky, sir,' said Rinaldi. ‘Almost three days down here without food.'

‘People have survived for three days without food,' said Flora.

‘Not without water though,' said Hal. ‘Reznik, we'll get a doctor to see to you.'

‘Nothing is broken,' said Anton. ‘Wounds heal.'

‘What happened?'

‘When we realized we could not open the door—that we could not make anyone hear us—we tried to operate the machine,' said Anton. His voice was noticeably stronger and a tinge of colour was returning to his cheeks, and he glanced across to the trap's outline nearby. ‘We thought to lower it halfway down so one of us could climb up and reach the stage.'

‘But the platform's a sheet of iron,' said Rinaldi. ‘And from below you'd be pushing against the mechanism.'

‘It was heavy and difficult,' said Anton. ‘The machine is clumsy and cumbersome, but we forced it far enough down to reach it, and I wedged the pulleys in place. Stefan stood on the platform and began climbing up. He used the sides of the shaft to lever his way upwards—it was difficult but not impossible. But the wedges were not strong enough. The machinery slipped, and because it had already been forced onto its downward journey, it completed that journey.'

‘What happened?' said Flora, staring at him in horror.

‘The machine came roaring down. Stefan was still on the platform. The force of the fall injured his legs—his ankles were broken, I think. And perhaps also the bones of his legs. He could not stand so he could not make the climb a second time. I could not raise the machine again, not on my own, not with Stefan on it. When I tried to pull him off the platform he screamed with the pain of his broken legs. I tried a second time and a third to move him, but it was too cruel, and I left him there, with my coat covering him. Then I tried to force the cellar door again but I could not.' He indicated his damaged hands angrily. ‘So all we could do was lie helplessly down there in the dark, waiting to be rescued, or to die, we did not know which it would be.' The hatred showed again in his face. ‘And it is all your fault, you bitch,' he said to Flora.

‘We should have left you down there to rot,' began Rinaldi hotly, but Hal waved him to silence.

‘Accusations won't help anyone,' he said, ‘but Reznik, if you use language like that again to Miss Jones, injured as you are, I shall knock you out.'

Anton hunched his shoulder angrily. ‘Stefan was terrified,' he said. ‘He was always terrified of the dark as a child—I always protected him. But this time I could not do so. When first we understood we were locked in that cellar, he crouched in a corner sobbing for hours, his arms over his head. He saw demons and spectres—he was afraid they were creeping towards him in the dark. After he was injured, he lay on the iron platform, screaming, on and on until his voice cracked. I had to listen. I listened to him die.'

‘Of his injuries?' said Flora.

‘Of madness from his thirst,' said Anton. ‘It comes sooner than you think, the madness of thirst, and it is a terrible thing to hear someone die in that way—' He broke off, and sipped the brandy and water again.

Hal said, ‘How did you survive yourself?'

‘A small amount of rain water came in through a flaw in the brickwork,' said Anton. ‘I managed to crawl over to drink a few drops. But I could not get Stefan to the trickles of water, or the water to Stefan.' He set down the brandy and suddenly grabbed Flora's wrist. His fingers were hot and dry against her skin and his eyes glittered. ‘My brother is dead because of you. There will be a reckoning.'

‘There will be no reckoning,' said Hal sharply. ‘Your brother was the victim of a tragic accident. We all know quite well what happened that night.'

For the first time Flora saw Anton hesitate. Hal obviously saw it as well, because he said, ‘There will be an inquest on your brother, of course, but the verdict will undoubtedly be misadventure.'

‘I shall say you locked us down there. You will be guilty of murder.'

‘Don't be ridiculous. No one locked you down there. It's an old lock. Unreliable. It simply jammed,' said Hal. ‘But you were both drunk that night and you assaulted Miss Jones. I saw that for myself. Rinaldi saw it as well. In the fight Stefan fell downstairs and you both refused to come out. If you had done so, you wouldn't have been trapped. And,' he said, ‘all of us would testify to those facts if we had to.' He did not say, ‘And since I'm a member of Her Majesty's Foreign Office, my word will be believed,' but Flora could see Anton thinking it. After a moment, Anton said, sneeringly, ‘So that is your famous British justice.'