The Rattler (Rattler Trilogy Book 1) (24 page)

1

She
soon returned and handed the journal over to Kyle. “This is truly unbelievable.
I’m getting chills by just holding it,” said Kyle, as he carefully turned the
fragile pages. “I’m lost for words. It was certainly fate; you moved in, and
found it – just like that.” He clicked his fingers.

“It
was just luck,” replied Zoe.

“No.
It was much more than that – you’re connected.”

The
girls’ tensions rose as Kyle slowly scanned the pages, getting closer and
closer to the details regarding the hidden
Rattler
. Vana was fully alert
to the problem, and soon interrupted him before he could read Ellwood’s secret.
“Shouldn’t we get on with the business at hand?”

“You’re
right...” he said, as he grudgingly closed the book and handed it back to Zoe.
“Now, with all that out in the open, the reason it took me so long to get in
touch was that I’ve only just been given clearance from the relevant government
department. They’ve given me authorisation to take you to see the collection. I
only need to give them an hour’s notice, as you’ve all been vetted – including
you, Vana.”

“Me?
How? Why?”

“You
co-found the journal. It’s routine, there’s a lot of money at stake.”

“Vetted?”
asked Sally.

“Background checks.
Nothing to
worry about – M15 and all that.”

“Why
would we need to be checked,” asked Zoe.

“Because of what’s at stake.
You’re so close to taking
millions from them. The politicians want to make sure you don’t get on their
backs, whip them, and take them for a ride.”

“OMG!
I love you. I absolutely love
you!” yelled Vana.

“Now,
I’ve already booked to see the collection this afternoon. It will just take a
phone call to confirm. Care to come with me?”

2

In
the hours that followed, Zoe, Sally and Vana were taken to see the hoard for
themselves. A lift led directly down to the basement and, at the bottom, they
were greeted by a guard who was stationed at a desk in a small office. Max, an
overweight, bald man, came out of the office and approached Kyle. “It’s nice to
see you again, Kyle.”

“Likewise,
Max; is it still alright to have another look at the paintings?”

“Of
course; please, this way,” he replied, waving his right hand for the group to
follow him to the door at the end of the long, white painted corridor.

“Who
would have known this vault existed – and right under the...” said Vana, who
was absolutely buzzing with excitement.

“Forget
what you have seen so far, love,” interrupted Max. “Otherwise I’d have to kill
yer!” Vana laughed. “Love it!”

Max
swiped his security pass and the door opened with a rush of air. The gang
followed him down a short, narrow, corridor. At the end, directly in front of
them, was a round, steel door with a spinning handle, and one door on either
side of the corridor, opposite each other. “I wish you guys hadn’t taken my
phone,” complained Vana. “No one’s going to believe us.”

“That’s
why we take it, to keep this tour from ending up on YouTube. Besides, they’re
going through it and bugging it as we speak.”

“Shut-up!
I’ve got rude pictures on it.”

“Rude
pictures, huh?”

“Well,
not porn. You remember Zoe, that night club...”

“OK.
Vana, be quiet, he’s joking. Max, open the door,” said Zoe, pointing at the
three doors. “Good luck with these two, Kyle,” said Max. He approached one of
the doors, typed a pass code,
851212
, into the LCD display unit, and
waited. A buzzing sound marked the opening of the door.

The
room measured approximately 20 m by 20 m, and it was packed with wooden crates
obviously containing the paintings. “So,” said Vana, walking up to the crates.
“This is what £10 million looks like.” Sally couldn’t hide her feelings and
shed another tear. It wasn’t long before Zoe and Vana got a strange sensation
about the place. It was cold, and they got the same tingling feeling here that
they had encountered back at the house.

“Right, folks.
This is where I’ll leave you –
I’ve paperwork and a Mars Bar that need my attention. As always, buzz me when
you’re finished,” said Max, pointing to a button on the wall. “Thanks Max,”
replied Kyle.

In
theory, Sally could take the paintings back with her today, but, in fact, she
would have to wait until the final pages of paperwork had been signed off. The
government had not only taken the majority of the St Claire estate, they were
also charging for the safe keeping of the paintings.

Sally
placed her hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “I can’t thank you enough, Kyle.”

“I’m
just doing my job. This day means a lot to me, too, and to be the one who
finally signs the case off is all the thanks I need.”

Sally
smiled. “I’ll be outside, dears.” Zoe and Vana started examining each wooden crate
and were impressed with what they saw. “It’s some hoard, isn’t it?” said Kyle.

“You
betcha it is,” replied Vana.

“I’ll
be outside,” said Zoe, “I’ve seen enough.” The room was making her feel a tad dizzy.
“I’ll follow you,” replied Vana. The girls joined Sally on a bench in the
corridor. “I wonder if
851212
would work on that door?” said Vana,
pointing at the door opposite. “Why what’s in there? Hang on, you memorized the
code?” queried Zoe. “Yeah; if we get locked in I wanna make sure we can get
out!”

“Vana,
who would lock us in?” asked Sally.
Silence.
The girls
said nothing. “OK. You girls have got me intrigued – what’s in there?”

Vana
pointed at the tag on the door: 141269-6912519-185129319. “Look at the numbers;
they represent the letters in the alphabet. That reads
Nazi – files
–
relics
.”

“Well.
Go on then.”

“What?”

“Test
your theory.”

“Why me?”

“Because it’s your idea.”

“If
you’re going to do it, Vana, be quick about it,” added Sally.

“OK.
No pressure then.” Vana curiously approached the door, typed
851212
into
the keypad – nothing.
“Cock!
This close,” she said,
squeezing her finger and thumb.

3

Kyle
took another look at the crates – each crate relating to a number on a sheet of
paper – and cross-checked them, one by one. It was at that moment that he heard
what sounded like long fingernails scraping on wood. He paused to listen. It
seemed to be coming from a crate right at the back of the room. The idea that
it could be a rat sprang to mind, but he soon dismissed that as he realised the
vault was a sealed unit. As he approached the final two boxes the rhythm
stopped.

He
had just turned to leave when a croaky voice in his ear stopped him dead.
“Nice to finally meet you, Kyle.”
The voice spooked him. His
wide eyes panned the room – nothing. “You’re here, aren’t you?” he whispered.
No response.

Meanwhile,
Vana had got tired of waiting outside and poked her head back into the room.
“KYLE!” she yelled. The man almost jumped out of his skin. Vana began to laugh.
“Sorry,” she said, as she noticed the panic in his eyes, “but, we’re bored
now.”

“Come
on, let’s get the paperwork finalised,” he replied, with a final look in the
vault, hoping to catch a glimpse...

4

A
few hours later, the paper trail had been completed and the case filed for
closure. Kyle and his agency would ultimately invoice the Government, and
Sally, for their work, payment for which would be due when the first couple of
paintings had been sold.

Later
on, the girls, Sally included, celebrated the occasion with a bottle of
Champagne and take-away pizza, finished off with crisps and chocolate.

5

That
night Vana couldn’t sleep; she could hear constant tapping noises, and was
aware of dark shadows moving in the room. She reached for her phone in the
darkness, selected a playlist, plugged in the ear pieces, and closed her eyes
tightly. As she did so, a black shadow dashed out of the bedroom and up the
stairs towards the attic, where it shot under the door, across the room, and
beneath the floorboards, before halting at a pair of bloodied leather gloves.

6

Zoe
was fast asleep, but she was having weird dreams about the paintings and their
discovery.

It
was early evening and Ellwood was walking in the manor’s woods. He was soon
greeted by Ainsworth and Horsley, who were standing next to the hanging bodies
of the two travellers. Ellwood stared up at the corpses; their faces were cut
and covered in dried blood. “They struggled?” Ellwood asked, noticing further
cuts on the travellers’ hands. “Yes,” Ainsworth replied, “and the bitch bit
me.” He showed Ellwood his bandaged left hand. “You should have heard him, Mr
Ellwood. Screamed like a pig at the hands of a butcher, he did,” said Horsley
with a murderous grin. “That’s not appropriate talk,” said Ellwood, as he
glanced around. “And make sure they’re cut down. I shouldn’t wish the children
to find them.”

“As you wish, Mr Ellwood.
The usual?” asked Horsley.
“Yes, burn and spread,” replied Ellwood.

A
slow dribble of blood from one of the traveller woman’s tear ducts started to
trickle down her face, unseen by the men who continued their chat. The blood
ran down her neck, onto her sloping shoulder, along her right hand, and finally
dripped from a long, dirt ingrained finger onto a leather glove worn by
Ellwood, who was standing below the body. The blood continued to soak into the
leather before
Ellwood finally noticed. He tried to wipe the blood away,
but all that did was to spread the stain. “Another pair ruined,” he remarked,
as he ushered the gamekeepers out of the woods.

7

Zoe’s
closed eyes twitched. She mumbled what sounded like
Let go of me.
She
was still dreaming; she was now outside the Manor House following the
gamekeepers as they dragged the travellers across a lush green lawn, and onto
the gravel. The rough stones cut their skin and blood flowed as the travellers
were hauled towards the front door. “Stop struggling,” said Horsley, “you want
me to cut you?”

“You’re
dead,” threatened Charder.

Horsley,
laughed, took out a knife, and proceeded to cut out Charder’s tongue. The man
struggled, and screeched with pain.
“Shsh!
The cat’s
got your tongue now,” Horsley joked, as he threw the fresh-meat to a ginger cat
sitting on the doorstep. Charder watched as the animal ran into a nearby hedge
to enjoy his treat.

The
next part of the dream came in quick flashes. Zoe saw the fracas in the
parlour, and the blood entering the paint oils. Then it slowed down to show
different scenes where Charles was painting several canvases. Suddenly, Hagatha
materialised behind Charles, who was focused on painting a small fruit bowl.
“You can’t get rid of me,
Little Miss Piggy,
” she said.

Zoe
opened her eyes.

1

Zoe
panned the room before focusing on the snoring Vana. “Wake up! Wake up!” she
whispered.

“Not
now Matt. Go back to sleep,” Vana mumbled, as she turned over.

“Vana!
It’s me!” Zoe persisted with a
slight tug. Finally, Vana gave in and opened her tired eyes. “What’s the matter?
It’s 3 am!” she said, checking her watch.

“She’s
still here. We’ve got to search the attic.”

“Again?
Why? Have you seen her?”

“No,
just had a weird dream.”

“Hun,
she’s gone. It’s just a bad dream, that’s all.”

“Please!
Hear me out. I’m begging you.”

Vana
knew she wouldn’t get any peace; she sat up and turned on the bedside lamp.
“You believe me?” asked Zoe.

“I’m
awake now, so you might as well tell me. What was it all about?” Zoe explained
the dream. Vana was intrigued by what she’d heard and pulled back the covers.
“Well, come on then!” said Vana, “and you’re making the hot chocolate
afterwards.”

2

The
girls crept onto the landing so as not to wake the sleeping Aunt Sally. Zoe
turned on her iPhone’s torch and led the way up the dark stairs. The second
floor was quiet and still. Zoe flicked on the landing’s light, and then joined
Vana in staring at the gloomy attic stairs.

“OK.
A quick look and then you’re making the drinks.”

“Agreed,”
said Zoe. The pair held hands as they ventured up the stairs. The torch gently
highlighted dust particles as the girls climbed towards the dreaded attic. Vana
carefully opened the door, revealing an empty room. The chest had been sold in
a local auction house, a thin line of dust the only evidence of its existence.

Zoe
and Vana walked calmly over towards the fresh-looking floorboards which stood
out from the surrounding sun-faded wood. Vana bent down and started to lift
them. “Wait,” said
Zoe,
“shouldn’t we...”

“Hun,
I’m tired. Let’s just put your mind to rest.”

“Alright,”
said Zoe as Vana lifted the loosened floorboards one by one. Zoe, biting her
lower lip, watched on as Vana poked her head into the void. “Well?” she asked.

“I
can’t see anything.”

“That’s
a relief.”

“Hang
on; pass us the light.”

Zoe
handed her the phone. “Why? What can you see?”

“I
don’t know yet, but there is something here at the back.” Zoe waited with
baited-breath as Vana’s right hand fiddled around. “I think I’ve got it,” said
Vana, as her fingers gripped a dark, dirty coloured rag. “Come out you little
bugger.”

“What
is it?” asked Zoe. Vana placed the stained cloth on the floor. “Well, open it,”
prodded Vana, whilst she had one final look into the dark space before she
replaced the boards. Zoe carefully
unwrapped
the rag;
she jumped backwards, pretending to be scared. “What? What’s the matter?” asked
Vana, as she replaced the final board.

“A
spider,” said Zoe, in a creepy voice.

“Shit!
Get it out!”

“Alright.
He’s not harmful.” Zoe picked
up the spider and offered it to her friend.

“Zoe!
I’m gonna be sick,” she replied, with her hand covering her mouth.

“Ah,
shit!”

“What’s
the matter now?”

“It
fucking bit me.”

“I
told you – get it out!”

Zoe
took out a tissue from her PJ’s pocket, opened the window and dropped the
parachuted-spider out. She looked at the tiny, bloodied puncture holes on her
right hand.

“It’s
just a scratch. The rag; open it.”

“OK.
Here goes nothing.” Zoe gently unravelled the rag. “What? It’s empty!” She was
convinced she was going to find something. “My dream was so vivid. That’s a bit
of an anti-climax,” she said, folding the cloth.

“Right,
hot chocolate time and I’m having the last of the marshmallows.”

“Alright,
I’m sorry for waking you up on an unnecessary whim.”

“Are
you bringing that with you?” said Vana, pointing at the rag. “I’m not leaving
it upstairs – the bin is the best place for this.”

3

Zoe
took one final look around before she closed the door and followed Vana down
the stairs. “Might as well have a pee whilst I’m here,” said Vana as she rushed
towards the toilet. The first floor bathroom was fresh-looking; gone were the
dated yellow fitments and a modern, white suite stood in their place. Jim had
pulled his finger out on his return from holiday, and ordered the makeovers
with no expense spared.

Zoe
sat on the floor outside the bathroom, back against the wall and legs touching
her chest. The door was ajar. “I was dead certain we were going to find
something,” whispered Zoe, as she examined the rag.

“You
can’t expect to find something every time you have a dream, Zoe.” Vana flushed
the toilet and started to wash her hands. At first she didn’t notice the water
rising within the bowl. “ZOE!”

“Shsh!
You’re going to wake Aunt
Sally. What’s the matter?”

“I
think you should see this,” she replied nervously. Zoe came in and joined her
friend as they watched the water slowly rise up to the rim.

“It’s
backed up that’s all. It’s just James up to his normal tricks again. I take it
that’s another roll wasted.”

“Where’s
the plunger?” asked Vana.

“In the cupboard, why?”

“Just
humour me for a second,” replied Vana, as she apprehensively watched the water
level. Zoe passed her a bright red plunger. “I don’t understand what you’re
hoping to find – it’s just
jobbie-blocked,
that’s all. It will go down
eventually.”

“Hang
on,” said Vana, as she started to work the plunger. She felt the pressure of
the water; there was no doubt about it – something big was blocking the pipe.
“You’ll have to have a shower if you get covered in poo,” said Zoe, taking a
few steps back just as the pressure gave and released the blockage. Vana could
not believe her eyes – she scooped up the item with the plunger. “You were
saying?” Zoe took one look, and instantly vomited into the toilet. Vana had found
a pair of black, bloodied, leather gloves.