The Death Chamber (22 page)

Phin closed the door and at once felt the room’s atmosphere jump up at him again. Don’t shut us in this place, said the memories and the ghosts.

They tested the trap, cautiously stepping on it one at a time, and then both together. The wood creaked loudly and sagged a bit, but both trapdoors appeared to be sound and firm, even when Phin
jumped up and down a few times as an extra test.

‘They may be lined with something on the underside,’ said Chad, studying them critically, ‘but we’d need to operate the lever to see, and we’d better not do that. I
think they’re all right though, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’

Nothing about any of this was really all right, of course. The room was seething with terrible memories; the shadows moved and slithered with the play of the torchlight so it was dreadfully easy
to imagine bowed-over shapes swinging to and fro on the end of a rope.

‘What about the lever?’ said Phin, speaking a bit too loudly in order to thrust the images away. ‘How moveable is it? Because if Jude were to explore he might activate it
without realizing what it is. And if the mechanism’s still working, the trap would open and he might – uh – fall into it. Or should we tell him to stay put in one
place?’

‘We can try telling him but he probably won’t take any notice. Let’s see how pliable the lever is.’

Phin had thought he was coping with the room quite well, so he was annoyed to find that when they tried to move the lever his hands were shaking.

‘Is the room getting to you?’ said Dr Ingram, glancing at him.

‘Um, yes, a bit.’

‘I thought it might be. It’s getting to me, as well,’ he said, and grinned, and Phin instantly felt better. Dr Ingram’s work had taken him to about a zillion places like
Calvary and if he was unnerved by the atmosphere it must be really bad.

‘I think it’s still moveable,’ said Chad, after a moment. He frowned, and Phin said, ‘Could we stuff something around it? To kind of wedge it a bit more firmly? It might
stop Jude catching his foot if he explores.’

‘Good idea. That particular danger hadn’t occurred to me. What have we got?’

In the end they used Phin’s long woollen scarf and Chad’s gloves, wadding them up and pushing them into the square aperture around the lever. ‘I think that’s padded it
quite well,’ said Chad, inspecting it critically. ‘It’s as immovable as we can make it. Good. We’d better get back to the others.’

Phin said, ‘Jude will be all right on his own in here, won’t he? Has he got a cellphone? Should we leave one with him if he hasn’t?’

‘Yes, he’s got one,’ said Chad. ‘But I don’t think there’ll be a signal in here.’

‘Let me try,’ said Phin, producing his own phone.

‘Any good?’

‘No. Damn. He really will be cut off, won’t he?’

They rejoined the other two and Chad said they were all set. ‘It’s just along here, Jude. Phin’s going to film you going in.’

‘All right,’ said Jude. He put the earpieces of the player in his pocket. ‘It’s bloody cold, isn’t it?’ he said, as they walked along the passage.

Phin walked backwards, carefully keeping Jude in the camcorder’s view-finder, trying not to bump into the walls as he went. He was dismayed when Drusilla said, ‘I suppose you have
remembered to put a tape in, have you, Phin? Boss, d’you remember that time when we were shooting
Talismans of the Mind
, and that girl – what was her name? – forgot to
wind a new tape back to “Start” and there was only about five minutes on it. It ran out without anyone realizing, and we filmed for two whole hours before we discovered it. We had to
re-shoot the entire thing. I’ve never seen you so angry with anyone.’

Phin would not put it past Drusilla to have said this with the deliberate intention of panicking him. It did panic him. Tonight was not something you could go back and re-shoot and he would
never get over it if he screwed up. He sneaked a peek at the counter meter and the battery levels while Drusilla was not looking, and saw that everything was whirring along just as it should. There
were times when he absolutely hated Drusilla.

‘Personally, I couldn’t give a tuppenny damn if Phin’s filming this or not,’ said Jude. ‘Because I’m going to write up my own account of it anyway and sell it
to – well, to whoever will pay the most. You weren’t bargaining for that, Chad, were you? Listen though, if you ever ask me to take part in one of your wild experiments in future, could
you make it somewhere with central heating. It’s as cold as a nun’s embrace in here. Phin, if you’re taking sound as well, you’d better edit that last remark out.’

‘It doesn’t matter about the sound,’ said Chad, ‘because we’re going to do a separate voice-over, so you can curse and blaspheme to your heart’s
content.’

They had reached the doorway of the execution chamber by this time and Phin went in first, still walking backwards so as to get the actual entrance squarely in shot. He was trying not to notice
the atmosphere, but Jude stopped dead on the threshold and Dr Ingram and Drusilla exchanged a quick glance as if worried he might change his mind about the entire thing and demand to be taken back
to the King’s Head. I wouldn’t blame him if he did just that, thought Phin.

But Jude did not change his mind. He stood very still for a moment, gripping the silver-topped stick, his head slightly to one side. He’s listening to the room, thought Phin. God knows
what it’s telling him. Then in a voice that was very nearly his normal offhand tone, Jude said, ‘Well, wherever this is, it certainly isn’t the Plaza Suite or the Ivy, is it? What
a good thing I brought my own food and drink. Where do you want me, Chad?’

‘Over here, I think. Halfway along this left-hand wall. I’ll guide you.’

‘No thanks, I’d rather make a mental map of the room.’

Using the stick, he went along the wall on the door’s left, reached the corner and turned down the long wall facing the gallows trap. ‘About here?’

‘Yes, good. You’re about halfway along. Drusilla’s brought a couple of cushions and a blanket, so we’ll put those out on the floor for you.’

‘Thanks.’

‘And the camcorder in that corner I think, please Phin,’ said Chad. ‘Jude, it’ll be on the left of the door.’

‘On my right?’

‘Yes. From there it’ll take in most of the room and you should be in shot all the time.’

‘I’d better make sure not to knock over the wine, then. I’ll submit to a good deal in the cause of research, but I’m damned if I’ll be caught on film sloshing
Merlot all over the floor.’ Jude moved to the cushions and sat down, laying the cane beside him. The MP3 was still in his pocket, and the wine and the flask of coffee were next to him. He
checked these with his hands, and then said, ‘There should be a box with food in it as well somewhere.’

‘I’ve got it,’ said Drusilla. ‘Caviar and water biscuits, I see.’

‘And pâté. If I’m going to do this at all, I’m going to do it in style. There should be the dictaphone in there, as well – yes, thank you, that feels like
it. Chad, I’ll record what I feel as it occurs to me. All right?’

‘Yes. You’re a pro, so I don’t need to tell you how to phrase anything or what to put in or leave out. You know the kind of stuff I want,’ said Chad. He shone his torch
onto his wristwatch. ‘It’s just coming up to eleven o’clock. I’d like to give you three hours here. Can you bear that?’

‘I thought you’d want the witching hour including,’ said Jude. ‘Yes, I can bear it. You’re going to lock me in, aren’t you?’

‘Don’t you want me to?’

‘I think you’d better.’

‘I’d like to ask you to stay put,’ said Chad. ‘But I know that’s a useless thing to say. So I’ll just say that if you do decide to take a stroll around, be
careful.’

‘Why? Is there a yawning pit in the centre of the room, or a spiral staircase?’

‘No. It’s almost empty,’ said Chad, and Phin recognized that he was choosing his words carefully. ‘But it’s an old place and I’d hate you to trip over any odd
bits of uneven floor or bump into anything. You’ve got the stick though, haven’t you?’

‘I have. And I’ll prod the air with it before every step I take. All right?’

‘I suppose that’s as good as I can hope for. We’re going back to the King’s Head,’ said Chad. ‘I want to work on an intro while this is all still fresh in my
mind. We’ll probably plan out tomorrow’s schedule as well. Phin and I will drive back at half past one, and we’ll be here at two o’clock.’

‘I’ll tell the ghosts to admit you,’ said Jude gravely. ‘But there’s no guarantee that they will. You can’t get staff these days.’

There was a rather awkward pause, then Chad said, ‘Jude, will you be all right?’

‘Not if I can’t find the corkscrew, I won’t. Oh wait though, it’s here, isn’t it?’ The dark head turned to where Chad was standing. ‘I’ll be
perfectly all right.’

‘Sure?’

‘Sure. Never better.’

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Jude listened to their footsteps receding. It was remarkable how distinctive footsteps could be: he was able to identify Chad’s brisk tread, the light tapping of
Drusilla’s heels and Phin Farrell’s eager steps scurrying along. This last made him smile. He liked Phin who reminded Jude of himself at that age – all that enthusiasm.

The acoustics of this place must be either very powerful or very unusual because the footsteps seemed to go on for a long time. Jude listened, thinking that surely Chad and the other two must
have reached the outer doors by now. Or perhaps the corridors doubled back in some way before actually reaching the outer door and the way out was alongside this room. It had felt a bit maze-like
in here. He waited for the footsteps to die away, thinking that once he knew he was really on his own he would start dictating his initial impressions.

There was the sound of a door clanging. Then that’s it, thought Jude, they’ve gone and I’m about to spend a night in the classic haunted house – at least, I’m
assuming it’s haunted in some way. Probably nothing at all will happen. I’m certainly not expecting a clutch of spectres to erupt out of the walls on the stroke of midnight.
There’s never been conclusive proof that ghosts actually exist anyway. Oh, yeah? Are you sure about that?

Could anyone really be sure about it? Supposing there were ghosts in the world but the people who encountered them did not live to tell the tale? Or lived but were driven mad by the sight? Would
Chad return in a few hours to find a gibbering wreck on the floor of this grisly place, and cart Jude off to the nearest psychiatric ward? He spent a few minutes considering this possibility. It
might even be a benign, rather quirky, madness in the end. ‘Poor Mr Stratton,’ the nurses would say, ‘he often talks about spectral highwaymen and martyred monarchs – we
hear him gossiping with the ghost of Ann Boleyn or Charles the First. Some night’s it’s as good as the Open University or BBC Two, and we’ve all got quite knowledgeable about
history since he came.’

The black humour of this pleased Jude so much that he reached for the dictaphone to record a few sentences along those lines before he could forget them. Always kick off on a note of comedy if
you can: it grabs the listeners’ attention from the start. Not that there had been much comedy about the last few years, nor was there likely to be much tonight, either. His voice, as he
talked into the machine sounded eerie, but he was used to dictating reports in all kinds of odd places and he disregarded this and ended on a more sombre note.

‘Headless monarchs and spectral midnight coaches aside – to say nothing of Falling Houses of Usher – this is undoubtedly a place where there’s been very great sadness and
fear, and you would have to have the mental skin of a rhinoceros not to feel that.’ He switched the tape off and it was only when the silence closed around him once again that he realized
Chad’s team were still around – he could hear their footsteps. Probably they were getting some extra shots, although Chad had left the camcorder in here – it was whirring away
quietly – Phin must be taking stills as well.

Jude opened the wine and poured it into the glass, doing so slowly and deliberately because of being filmed, pleased at managing these small manoeuvres smoothly. He set the bottle down far
enough away not to knock it over by mistake and marked the position of it in his mind. Right-hand side, a bit more than an arm’s reach away. The specialist nurse had taught him to create a
mental plan of a room and then file it for future reference. Then, when he went into that room or house again, he had only to refer to the plan, she said. Jude had resisted this, as he had resisted
most suggestions for making his life easier, but in the end he had tried the small ploy and found it worked surprisingly well. He knew the layout of his recently acquired flat, even though he had
never seen it.

But maps, mental or otherwise, would not help him tonight because tonight he was on his own in the dark. Nothing new there; he had been locked in his own particular darkness for the last two
years. Don’t whine, Jude, just be glad you survived the bloody bomb and remember what the medics told you. They had said, Yes, of course it was tragic that he had not been rescued from the
chaotic hell on the Syrian border much sooner and taken straight to a hospital: there was a chance that earlier treatment might have saved his sight. But they had also told him he had been
extremely lucky there were no other injuries. Brain damage, amnesia or pronounced personality change, visible trauma to skull or cheekbones. There were worse things than bilateral detachment, they
said, and in time he would learn to accept the blindness. Stuff that, Jude had thought, I’ll never accept it!