Haunted by the Past, page 2
part #11 of Ismael Jones Series
The hairs on the back of my neck stirred, at the calm certainty in his voice.
“Hasn’t there ever been a good Glenbury?” said Penny. “Someone who tried to reach out to the town?”
“We know better than to let any of them get close to us,” said the barman. “You can’t ever trust a Glenbury. They’re raised to be what they are.”
“And what is that?” I said politely.
“Devils,” said the barman.
“So which is the most dangerous?” said Penny. “The Hall or the family?”
“They belong to each other,” said the barman.
Penny and I waited, but he’d said all he had to say. He turned away, to polish a glass that didn’t need polishing, apparently feeling he’d done all that was necessary in the way of polite conversation. I nodded to Penny and we took our drinks to an empty table at the rear of the inn. I chose a chair that allowed me to set my back against the wall, and Penny sighed quietly.
“Do you have to be so obviously on your guard, darling?”
“Relentless paranoia is your friend,” I said calmly. “I have learned the hard way not to trust anyone. Except you, of course.”
Penny smiled at me sweetly. “Nice save.”
“Well,” I said. “I think it’s obvious why we’ve been called down here, and what our mission is going to be.”
“To sort out a spooky old house that eats people?” said Penny.
I shrugged. “The Colonel will give us the real details. When he gets here.”
I looked around the inn. Golden light streamed in through the diamond-paned windows but did little to disperse the general gloom. There was no music, no television, and the locals sat hunched over their cards and dominos, voices pitched carefully low to keep their conversations to themselves.
The general layout looked like it hadn’t changed in centuries; just an open space with a working fireplace, chunky tables and chairs, sawdust on the floor and a low half-timbered ceiling. In old taverns like this, it’s often said that the walls have ears, but in this place, they had eyes. Everywhere I looked, dozens of stuffed and mounted animal heads stared back at me. Everything from foxes with snarling mouths, to stags with spreading antlers. If you could pursue and shoot something in the name of sport, its head was there. And every single face showed the same slightly surprised expression.
I had to wonder: if I was ever finally brought to ground, would my head end up as a trophy on someone’s wall? With the same surprised expression on my face...
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Penny said quietly, “but apart from the amateur taxidermy, there’s nothing else in the way of decoration. No old maps or photographs, no horse brasses or interesting antiques. None of the usual conversation pieces. Either the locals don’t care about their past, or they don’t care to be reminded of it. Did the Colonel have anything to say about why we’re meeting him here?”
“The Colonel was his usual tight-lipped self on the phone,” I said. “Apparently someone has gone missing around here, under less than usual circumstances, and the Colonel wants him found.”
Penny considered her drink thoughtfully. “That’s a bit lightweight, for us. I mean...no monsters, no murders, just a few local ghost stories and someone who’s gone absent without leave?”
I shrugged. “At least we got to drive out into this lovely countryside in your latest toy.”
Penny fixed me with a stern stare. “A nineteen twenty-six Bentley, in its original night-black livery, is not a toy! It is a collector’s dream, and still one hell of a smooth ride!”
“Then why didn’t I get a chance to drive?”
She looked down her nose at me. “You know very well you are not allowed behind the wheel of any of my vintage cars.”
“I have excellent reflexes.”
“The way you drive, you need them.”
Perhaps fortunately, the Colonel chose that moment to make his entrance. He strode into the pub as though he owned the place and was thinking of knocking it down. Once again silence fell across the room as the regulars turned their collective attention on the latest intruder. The Colonel stared coldly back, and the locals averted their eyes rather than meet his gaze.
A tall, elegant presence in his early forties, the Colonel was dressed in the finest three-piece suit that Savile Row had to offer. Ex-military in his bearing, right down to the expertly trimmed moustache, the Colonel might be an incognito authority figure, but he still wanted everyone to know it. Not that he was in any way the boss of me. The Colonel was simply the middleman, the go-between, my only point of contact with the Organisation, and both of us preferred it that way.
He passed between the crowded tables without so much as glancing at anyone, and when he finally joined Penny and me the regulars went back to minding their own business with a certain amount of relief. The Colonel removed a handkerchief from his top pocket, flicked some invisible dust from the remaining chair, and sat down opposite us, his back as straight and unyielding as ever. He replaced the handkerchief, took a moment to adjust his Old School Tie, and then nodded approvingly at the stuffed and mounted animal heads.
“What excellent trophies.”
Penny’s elegant eyebrows descended into a frown that would have placed a chill in the heart of anyone else.
“You hunt animals for sport?”
“I used to ride with the local hunt, when I was a young buck,” said the Colonel. “All part of a country upbringing. These days, I hunt other things. Just like you.”
“Why are we here, Colonel?” I said quickly, before Penny could take the conversation down a path I just knew none of us would find helpful.
The Colonel settled himself comfortably and addressed us in his usual I am now lowering myself to lecture the subordinates tone. I let my eyelids droop, as though I was about to drowse off. So far, honours even. Penny looked like she wanted to slap both of us.
“One of the Organisation’s people, a minor functionary called Lucas Carr, was supposed to be attending an historical conference at a manor house some distance outside the town,” said the Colonel. “Glenbury Hall had been left empty and abandoned for ages, but it was recently reopened as a centre for business meetings, conferences, and the like.
“Today was supposed to be their grand opening, and Carr was the first member of the historical society to arrive, at around ten o’clock this morning. He booked in at reception, collected his key, and went upstairs to his room. But he never got there. Somewhere between the lobby and his room, Carr just vanished. And no one has seen or heard anything of him since.”
“Are we blaming this on enemy action?” I said carefully. “Or general weirdness?”
“Carr was one of us,” said the Colonel. “So we have an obligation to assume the worst.”
“You think he might have been kidnapped?” said Penny.
“It’s a possibility,” said the Colonel. “Though I wouldn’t have thought someone on Carr’s level would have known anything important enough to make him worth taking.”
I gave him my best hard look. “If Carr isn’t anyone important, what makes this case so urgent that Penny and I had to come racing all the way out here?”
The Colonel stared calmly back at me. “We really don’t like it when one of our own goes missing. There’s always the chance it could be the opening gambit in an attack on the entire Organisation.”
“So you don’t care about Lucas himself?” said Penny.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” said the Colonel. “And so are you. The very fact that I chose my best field agents to look into the situation should tell you how seriously the Organisation is taking this.”
“We’re your best agents?” I said. “Can I get that in writing?”
“Can we get a raise?” said Penny.
I smiled at her. “You always were the practical one.”
“One of us has to be,” said Penny, her gaze still fixed on the Colonel. “So there’s nothing special about this Lucas Carr?”
“As far as I know, he’s never done anything to stand out,” said the Colonel. “Disappearing was the first interesting thing he ever did.”
“What’s our cover story?” I said. “Who are we this time?”
“As far as the Glenbury family are concerned, you are security experts,” said the Colonel. “Brought in by Carr’s employers to find out what’s happened, because there are confidential aspects to his work. Which you, of course, are not free to discuss. The family have agreed to cooperate because they want this mess sorted out as quickly as possible, so they can get their business up and running again.”
I sat back in my chair and looked at him thoughtfully. “But why choose us, for a missing person case? We usually only get the strange ones.”
The Colonel shifted unhappily on his chair. “Glenbury Hall does have a long-established reputation as a bad place. And not just for people going missing.”
“You’re talking about the ghosts, aren’t you?” said Penny. “The barman said there were all kinds of stories...”
“Which may or may not turn out to be at all relevant,” said the Colonel.
I nodded. “What can you tell us about Lucas Carr? What sort of man was he?”
“A hard-working office drone,” said the Colonel.
“What about wife, family, friends?” said Penny.
“There doesn’t appear to have been anyone else in Carr’s life,” said the Colonel. “His only interest outside his job was this historical society.”
“He sounds rather a lonely sort,” said Penny.
The Colonel nodded. “I think we can rule out affairs of the heart.”
“Not necessarily,” I said. “It’s always the quietest waters that run deepest.”
“You should know,” said the Colonel.
“What can you tell us about the historical group?” said Penny.
“The Ravensbrook Historical Society,” said the Colonel. “Some sixty or so members, who usually only meet online. Today’s conference was supposed to be their first chance for a small number of them to meet in person.”
“What were they planning to do, at this conference?” I said.
The Colonel shrugged. “Present scholarly papers on their favourite subject, and then argue over the details. Their involvement does add an extra level of complication, in that there is an unsolved mystery at the heart of their special interest...”
Penny looked at me. “Didn’t you just know he was going to say that?”
“I knew there had to be something weird and uncanny about this case, to justify bringing us in,” I said. “And given the sheer number of ghosts involved, maybe we should mention our special exorcist’s rate.”
Penny beamed at me. “You see? You can be practical when you put your mind to it.”
The Colonel gave us a look that indicated he was going to rise above us, and pressed on.
“Back in sixteen eighty-five, Lord Ravensbrook turned up at Glenbury Hall, to discuss putting together an armed uprising against King James II. But though he was seen to go into the Hall, no one inside ever saw him, and he never came out again. He simply vanished; without Ravensbrook to lead it, the rebellion never happened. He was widely assumed to have been assassinated by agents of the king, but there was never any proof, and never any trace of the body.”
“So the Hall has an extremely long history, when it comes to people going missing,” I said.
“Which may or may not have anything to do with what has happened to Carr,” said the Colonel.
“How long can you give us, before you have to bring in the local authorities?” I said.
“Twenty-four hours,” said the Colonel.
“Why the rush?” said Penny. “If there’s no family or friends to raise a fuss?”
“Because after that the trail will go cold,” said the Colonel. “And if this should turn out to be nothing to do with the Organisation, we have a responsibility not to muddy the waters for a more traditional approach.”
I nodded. “Where is this Glenbury Hall?”
“Not far from here,” said the Colonel. “Just follow the road away from town and it will lead you to an old manor house standing on its own; that’s the Hall.”
I suddenly became aware that everyone else in the pub was staring at us. I drew the Colonel’s attention to our silent audience, and he made a point of turning unhurriedly around in his chair. Penny and I looked interestedly round the room, but not one of the regulars lowered their gaze, even when the Colonel hit them with his best This is none of your business stare. The barman cleared his throat in a significant sort of way and raised his voice so it carried clearly across the silent room.
“You’re not really thinking about going to Glenbury Hall, are you? After everything I warned you about?”
“We have business there,” I said. “And it will take more than a bunch of scary stories to put us off.”
“The Hall is a dangerous place,” said the barman. “No one goes there.”
“Why not?” said Penny.
The barman took his time before answering, weighing his words as he considered just how specific he was prepared to be.
“No one in the town will go anywhere near the Hall. Every family around here has lost someone to that awful place. Disappearance after disappearance, going back centuries. It was left empty for decades, and everyone was happy for it to stay that way. When we heard the Glenburys were coming back, we knew nothing good would come of it. And when we heard that someone had gone missing out there this morning, none of us were surprised. That house should never have been opened up to visitors.”
“Why not?” I said.
“The Hall is only safe when it’s sleeping,” said the barman. “It has an appetite. It takes people, because it can. We respect the old stories, and the old warnings, and stay safe.”
“What warnings?” said Penny, favouring him her best winning smile. “And what stories, exactly?”
“You must have heard about the most famous one,” said the barman. “Back in the nineteen fifties, two women arrived at Glenbury Hall to visit the family. They were surprised to find the grounds packed full of people in old-fashioned clothes. The two women thought it must be some kind of historical reenactment. They moved among the strangely clothed people, and listened to them talking in antiquated ways. There were stalls selling strange produce, outbreaks of laughter with a disquieting edge, and displays of swordsmanship that ended in real bloodshed. Somewhat confused, the women made their way to the front door and went into the Hall, to meet their friends.
“And that’s when they found out there was no gathering or reenactment in the grounds. Nobody should have been there. When they all went outside, there was no one to be seen. You really haven’t heard that story? There’s been several books written about it, and a television documentary. Though none of us got paid for being in it.”
“What do you think was going on in the grounds?” said Penny.
“Time isn’t as nailed down as it should be, at Glenbury Hall,” said the barman. “The past can appear out of nowhere to haunt the present, because that house’s history has teeth, patience, and an endless reach.”
“So...it’s not just the Hall that eats people?” I said.
“Best not to talk about it,” said the barman.
“Why?” I said.
“Because talking only makes things worse.”
“How?” said Penny.
“It encourages the Hall,” said the barman. “It likes the attention.”
I looked at him steadily. “You talk about the house as though it’s alive.”
“There’s a reason why the old Hall was built so far outside of town,” said the barman. “It was because no one wanted the Glenburys anywhere near them. They did things, back in the day....Terrible things, that poisoned the wood and stone of Glenbury Hall forever. It all comes down to the well, you see.”
“What well?” said Penny.
“You don’t know anything, do you?” said the barman. “It’s in the grounds, right in front of the Hall. Legend has it the well used to be a pagan shrine, long and long ago, when people were sacrificed to something so old we don’t even have a name for it anymore. The earth around the well was soaked with blood, and packed full of bones. The Glenburys ordered their house built there because they liked that.”
I looked around as one of the regular drinkers suddenly stood up. He was wide and stocky, craggy-faced and grey-haired, with the air of a man beaten down by life, and other things.
“That’s enough, Thomas! This is our business, not something to be shared with outsiders. They’ll never understand.”
“They have to be told, Nathan,” said the barman. “They have to know what they’re getting into.”
“It won’t help,” said Nathan. “If the house wants them, it’ll take them. You know that.” He made himself look at Penny and me, and the Colonel. “You don’t want to go there. It’s not a healthy place.”
I didn’t get any sense of threat from the man, or from any of the locals watching us. They all seemed genuinely concerned, desperate to warn us away from a very real threat.
“We do have some experience, when it comes to the weird stuff,” I said carefully. “We know how to protect ourselves.”
Nathan just shook his head and sat down again. He wouldn’t look at us anymore, because in his mind we were already dead.
I turned back to the barman. “Before today, when was the last time someone from around here actually vanished out at the Hall?”
“We haven’t lost anyone in decades,” said the barman. “Because we still make it a point to tell each new generation the old cautionary tales. The last time...would be back in the seventies. Those Glenburys were great ones for parties. Wild affairs, by all accounts, attracting like-minded souls from all over the county. Some people from town went out to the Hall, to work in the kitchens, or act as staff. They should have known better, but the money was just too tempting...”
“And they never came back?” said Penny.
“Oh, they came back all right.” The barman smiled briefly. “From the stories they had to tell, about things they’d seen, I’d say they earned their pay. Most of them wouldn’t go back, but a few did. For the money, or because what went on at those parties spoke to something in them. And they never did come back.”
