'Puma One checking in,' said Chris Davies, holding the transmitter at arms' length to lessen the high-pitched whine of static which had invaded the wavelength. He waited for Grogan's reply, then flicked the switch to 'Off.' He replaced the hand set and returned to gazing out of the window. He and the other two men in the Panda had been given the task of patrolling the centre of Medworth itself. The shopping areas and parks which dotted the town like pieces in a grass and concrete jigsaw. Davies was pleased that they had been assigned this particular sector as there was more likelihood of spotting something. He worked the pump action of the shotgun, chambering a shell, and smiled. God help you bastards, he thought.
In the back, Stuart Ferman was beginning to wish he had never joined the bloody police force. He felt giddy, the smell of plastic, sweat, and gun oil thick in his nostrils. He wished he were at home. He lived alone on the ground floor of a block of flats. Although, strictly speaking, he didn't occupy the dwelling totally without company. He shared it with two enormous Alsatians which he'd had since they were puppies. They'd been handed in to the station by some kid who didn't want them and Ferman had taken them home with him. He had cared for them with a love he didn't think he possessed, watching them grow into the magnificent creatures they were now. He wished he had them both in the car with him at this moment.
Ron Bell, driving, slowed the car as he saw something move ahead of him. He nudged Davies, who had been peering out of the side window and pointed to the area where he had seen the movement. All three men felt the tension rising as Bell edged the Panda closer. Its bright headlamps suddenly swung on the source of the disturbance.
It was a cat.
Caught in the sudden glare it hissed and fled from the blinding light. The trio of men in Puma One felt the tension drain from them and Bell breathed a sigh of audible relief.
They drove on.
Debbie Lambert had found what she searched for.
She had discovered the information about fifteen minutes ago and now she reread it, translating quickly, scribbling the words down like a journalist with a scoop. There were two entire pages about Mathias. She looked back through her notes, found that she was running short of paper and realized that she had more upstairs.
It was as she dashed into the hall that she heard the scratching at the front door.
'Puma Three to all cars. Anything to report?'
Lambert's voice rasped in the closed confines of the other two Pandas. Hayes and Davies responded that, as yet, they had seen nothing.
'Keep in touch,' ordered Lambert, 'over and out.' He replaced the hand set and wound the window down a little further, gulping in the crisp night air. They had now reached the edge of the industrial area and its countless tall chimneys towered above them as Briggs guided the car slowly along the wide roads, keeping it dead centre.
'If you see anything,' said Lambert, 'let me know.'
It was darker than he had imagined, especially in this part of the town, for there were no street lights, just the occasional naked bulb which shone outside a factory entrance. The Inspector made a mental note to have this area checked out in the morning. The things had to be hiding somewhere and out here offered countless possibilities. A thought crossed his mind. There was no evidence to support his own theory that they were, indeed, all holed up in the same place during the day and the thought that they could well be spread out all over town made his heart sink. It would mean searching every empty house, every cellar, every disused shop. He shook his head and sighed deeply.
When Debbie first heard the scratching she paused, heart pounding against her ribs, listening. It stopped abruptly but still she stood in the darkness of the hall until, at last, she sprinted upstairs to their bedroom and found some paper. When she reached the hall again, she switched on the light and stood there for a second. The lock and bolt were secure but she tested them just to set her mind at ease. Satisfied, but nonetheless uneasy, she returned to the living room which was comfortingly aglow with the light of three lamps. She sat down at her desk and reread the passage on Mathias, this time transcribing onto a fresh piece of paper. Her eyes stung from the hours of continual reading but she persevered, realizing that she had reached her goal.
The medallion glinted dully beside her and she looked at it for a second.
There was a rattling from the back of the house. Debbie heard it but ignored it, or tried to. She continued writing.
It grew louder.
A noise now at the front again. That scratching, only more insistent this time.
It stopped.
She looked up, glanced across at the telephone and wondered whether or not to call the station. But, when the sounds didn't persist, she shook her head, told herself that it was her imagination and returned to her work. The transcription was beginning to take shape, almost finished in fact. She read it through twice, struggling with its ancient construction. The meaning was in there somewhere, it was just a matter of finding it. The words on the paper stood out starkly, written in her own neat script. She read them to herself:
This year of the Almighty, 1596, in ground not Blessed of the Church is buried the one known as Mathias. This man did dare to oppose God: buried without tongue or eyes, removed in the sight of those present by hot pincers: Blasphemer, Servant of the Fallen Angel. Buried with him be the symbol of his evil. The instrument with which he hoped to reverse the very rightful process of death; to defy the Almighty; to bring life to the Dead.
Debbie shuddered. My God, that was the tie up. She looked at the medallion.
A MORTUIS EXCITARE - TO AWAKE THE DEAD.
She had more below that first transcription:
May he he, buried yet whilst alive, forever in the place chosen. Without the Kingdom of the Almighty for the rest of Eternity.
So engrossed was she in her find, she didn't even hear the rattling begin once more at the back of the house. Debbie read on:
And now, though he wear that symbol of his Blasphemy let it not be removed; but, if so done, be it not returned to its owner for there is a power beyond that of man in its presence. Reunited with the symbol of his evil the one known as Mathias may yet attain The Power.
Debbie put down the transcript and looked at the medallion. She felt compelled to reach out and touch it but something told her not to. The gleaming metal winked up at her and she shuddered. 'The Power.' She glanced at her notes once more. At last, they knew the secret of the medallion.
It was then that she heard the rattling.
Breathing heavily, she got to her feet and crossed to the door which led out into the kitchen, suddenly aware of how cold it had become. She pushed the door and peered into the room, taking a step in, the linoleum cold against her bare feet. The rattling grew louder and she looked towards the locked back door.
The handle was being turned frenziedly back and forth.
'Oh God,' murmured Debbie under her breath. She flicked on the kitchen lights, watching as the bank of fluorescents burst into life. The door handle was slammed back and forth with renewed strength and now, a series of dull thuds began to break against it, gradually building to a crescendo which she realized were powerful blows.
She turned, slammed the door behind her and dashed for the phone in the living room. Her shaking fingers found the required digits and she dialed, the pounding growing in intensity. Her breath came in gasps as she waited for the receiver to be picked up at the other end. She heard three words: 'Medworth Police Station…'