Death by Dreaming - 20. Chapter 20

Angel heard the voice long before he opened his eyes. It was soft and insidious and whispered softly dropping words, images and commands straight into his subconscious.

You will co operate with everything I ask you to do. You will be silent and compliant. You will speak only when you are spoken to. You will smile and be pleasant at all times. You will be pleased to see everyone you meet. You want to be out in the fresh air. You want to go to the fete. Nothing and no one will persuade you that you don’t want to go with me to the fete. You will walk and you will talk and you will be focussed only on getting to the fete. You want to go into the church. You want it so badly that you will let nothing get in your way.

It was a lot to take in and Angel struggled to make sense of what was happening to him with a mind that was still fairly blanketed by drugs. In the end he stopped trying and just allowed himself to float on the sea of soft words, his logical mind struggling briefly and then sinking beneath the tides until he had no thoughts other than those that were being implanted by the words, the soft words, the compelling words, repeating over and over and over.

“Open your eyes Alexander. It’s time for you to wake up now. It’s time for you to go on a journey, just one last journey and then you may sleep.”

Angel opened his eyes and blinked the blurred image which loomed over him into focus. He was mildly surprised to find that it was Charles, but it didn’t really matter.

“Are you ready to go Angel?”

“Go?”

“To the fete. You do remember that it is this afternoon don’t you?”

“The fete.” His voice was as dead as his eyes and Charles smiled, taking his hand and raising him to his feet. He came readily enough and only swayed slightly. For a moment he had a slight frown on his face but it faded to nothing.

The door opened and a young man walked in. Charles turned irritably. “Yes?” He had seen the man around the house but he had no idea who he was.

“I... I’m sorry Master Charles, Sir. I... I didn’t know you were in here. I have been sent to check on Master Angel.”

“As you can see, Master Alexander is perfectly fine. We are about to leave for the fete. Isn’t that right Alexander?”

“The fete? Yes. I want to go to the fete. I...” for a moment his brow furrowed as though he were trying to remember something. “I need some air.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay here Alexander? You have only just come out of hospital after all?”

Again Angel looked confused but he shook his head. “No. The fete is good. I... It’s not as if it’s a party. I couldn’t do a party but... I think a fete is gentle and I would be... alright.”

“Are you sure? It would be fine if you stayed here.”

“I am... sure. I want to go.”

“Very well. Come along then. The others are already in the car and we don’t want to be late.”

Obediently Angel followed Charles from the room past the slightly bemused looking young man at whom he did not even glance.

Silently Angel followed Charles through the house with no thought in his head other than that he had to follow, he had to do as he was told. He did not think of Marcus, or Charlie, or anything at all other than that he had to follow, he wanted to follow.

Everyone was waiting. They were all impatient and they were all annoyed when Charles arrived with Angel... all except Henry who smiled maliciously.

“What’s he doing here? You didn’t say that we would be taking him.”

“Be silent Anabelle. Show some respect please.”

“Respect? What for? Since when?”

“Anabelle! I won’t tell you again. Be silent.”

They were taking the limo and Angel climbed into the back, sitting facing Anabelle, Mary and Charles, with Henry on one side and Arthur on the other. He sat quietly, not looking at anyone, not thinking of anything, barely aware he existed.

“What’s wrong with him? He looks weird.”

“Be quiet Anabelle.”

“She’s right Charles. He doesn’t look very well.”

“He’s just come out of hospital Mary, of course he doesn’t look well. Now be quiet the lot of you. You’re already giving me a headache.”

Feeling a touch on his arm Angel turned his head to look into a concerned face, wire rimmed glasses perched on the sharp, thin nose.

“Are you alright Angel?”

Angel smiled and nodded, remembering that he was to be pleasant, to be pleased to see everyone he met.

“Father... are you sure... I... I wouldn’t mind staying here with Angel...”

“Alexander will be fine. He wants to go to the fete.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. I need some air. The church fete will be good for me.”

Arthur frowned, feeling uneasy but it was nothing to the frown he was being given by his father and so he fell silent. His eyes slid past Angel to his brother’s face. Henry was grinning and the look in his eyes scared him. Hurried he looked down at his hands which were nervously wringing each other in his lap.

By now the car had left the estate and was well on its way to the fete. Everyone fell silent.

***
Charlie and Marcus felt strangely nervous as they followed Charlton through the door which separated off the East wing, where the Bishop family lived. Even though they knew that there was no one there they felt as if there were eyes following their every move.

When Charlton paused in front of a door they both jumped

“The private study, Sir, Madam.”

“Is it locked?”

“Indeed it is.”

“Bugger. How are we going to get in?”

“Never fear, Sir. It is part of my job as head of the house to ensure that I have access to all parts of it... in case of emergencies you understand.”

Marcus stared in open admiration at the unflappable butler as he took the most enormous bunch of keys he had ever seen out of his pocket, selected one and slid it into the lock. As he heard the slight click of the lock turning he made a mental note to never get on the wrong side of him.

Charlton preceded them into the study and flicked on the light. The room was surprisingly large with a huge open fireplace surmounted by an enormous carved oak mantle. Picture windows overlooked the lawns and solid oak and leather furniture marked it as being very much a man’s domain. The faint smell of stale cigar smoke pervaded everything.

“You start at that side and I’ll start this side. Charlton you had better get back. We don’t want you getting into any trouble over this.”

“Nonsense Master Marcus, I fully intend to assist you in this endeavour to the ultimate of my capability. I shall take the desk area I think.”

They searched in silence for almost half and hour, the frustration growing like a miasma in the air around them. They had been so certain, so sure... but what if...?

“Master Marcus... Perhaps you would be interested to take a look at this.”

Startled Marcus turned to see that Charlton had emptied the contents of one of the desk drawers onto the desk top. As he approached he glanced down and saw that the drawer had had a false bottom which was now slid back to reveal the thin sheaf of papers stored beneath.

“How did you find that?”

“I have a devious mind, Sir.”

Marcus looked up at the completely dead pan expression on Charlton’s face and had to smile. With Charlie at his side he carefully pulled the papers free and held them up to the light. After reading for a while his face turned pale.

“But this is... this... Oh no. Oh God no.”

Charlton plucked the papers from Marcus’ numb fingers and scanned it. For the first time since they had known him Charlton swore.

“What does it mean?”

“It means that Charles Bishop is far more of an evil bastard than we had even guessed at. It seems that his plan for Angel wasn’t the first murder he orchestrated.”

“No... surely not? Surely he wouldn’t have...?”

“Let’s keep looking.”

“Isn’t this enough?”

“No... it’s not enough... not by a long way.”

“But...”

“Charlie... think about it... What is this? What is it really? Copies of three wills, letters from solicitors. Just because the letters are addressed to Charles doesn’t mean anything. He could easily say that he was under instructions to get them drafted.”

“But they... they’re dated... they were only the day before... and Angel’s... fuck Marcus... he... he...”

“I know. Calm down Charlie. He’s not going to kill Angel, no way. I would die before he did that. We need more.”

“But he killed them Marcus... that signature... it’s not... it’s... he killed them. Angel’s parents... he killed them.”

Marcus drew her into a rough embrace. “All we know is that he was instructing a solicitor with regard to drawing up new wills just before they died. We don’t know that he killed them, not for sure.”

“But why? Why would he have new wills drawn when he didn’t know... if he didn’t know...? And he’s done the same for Angel... the same solicitor... not just the same firm.”

“I know. Be calm.”

They had gone back to searching for only a few minutes when they were scared half to death by the sound of the telephone ringing. Calm as ever Charlton answered. He listened carefully for a while and then looked up to Marcus.

“It’s a Doctor Scott for you, Sir.”

“Doctor Scott? What does he want?”

“May I suggest that you speak to him, Sir... then you will find out.”

Smiling nervously Marcus took the receiver. “Hello, this is Marcus Sheldon. Is everything alright?”

“I don’t know Marcus, that’s why I wanted to call you. I know you were worried about your friend this morning and I... well I may be wrong but there have been a number of things happening here that has made me believe that perhaps you were right after all.”

“About Angel? What do you mean?”

“Well... as you were aware I had some blood drawn from Angel this morning and I sent it for testing. I don’t know why but I was slightly concerned about his reaction to the drugs. They should have worn off overnight and he really shouldn’t still have been so sleepy.

“The results came back and they are very puzzling. Not only do they show quite a high concentration of a sedative... that has... different qualities to the ones administered to Angel yesterday but there were... there were signs of another kind of drug altogether, a psychoactive drug.”

Marcus felt himself grow cold. “Psychoactive? What does that mean exactly?”

“It’s a drug that is commonly used in hypnotherapy to induce trance states, especially for therapeutic purposes and for auto suggestion. I did a minor in narco hypnosis during my training and this has all the markers of that kind of drug.

“The strange thing is... well... this kind of drug is very short acting. It gets metabolised out of the system quickly.”

“Which means?”

“Which means that it had to have been administered only a few hours before we conducted the test.”

“Wait a minute... you mean that Angel was given drugs some time during the night?”

“It seems so.”

“By whom?”

“I have no idea... but there’s more.”

“More? I don’t think I can take any more.”

“I spoke to Dr Cole this morning and he told me that the reason he had agreed to release Angel today because he had received a call from Sister Barnard who said that she was concerned about Angel because he was so stressed about being in hospital and he was desperate to be released. She told him that Angel was well and stable but that she was concerned that he was working himself up into a state and that it might lead to complications.

“It was on the basis of what she said that Dr Cole gave the go ahead for him to be released as he was concerned that he was doing him more harm that good keeping him here.”

“But that’s nonsense. We were with him all morning. He was sleeping. He wasn’t getting stressed over anything. Have you spoken to this Sister Barnard? Have you asked her why she said that?”

“I have tried but it hasn’t been possible. It seems that Sister Barnard has disappeared. She has cleared out her locker, deleted all her personal files off the computer and vanished.”

“So ... someone went there last night... drugged Angel and... did what? Those drugs... what would they do?”

“I don’t know... as I said they are used to induce trance and a precursor to deep hypnosis... some form of auto suggestion maybe.”

“Fuck!! FUCK!! Oh my God. Oh no, oh please, please no.”

“Marcus, calm down. Do you know something? Do you know what this might mean?”

“I do. I’ve had suspicions Dr Scott, horrible suspicions but that’s all they have been. But now... not it is looking as if my suspicions were right all alone.”

“Marcus... I am in a very difficult position. Whatever has been going on here is not going to make the hospital look good. I am going to have to take this further...”

“Further? What do you intend to do?”

“I ought to report this to the police. Whatever happened here it was not legal.”

“No... it wasn’t. Can I ask you to trust me? To hold off just for a few hours. I believe that I might be able to find evidence this afternoon, something that will provide answers to all our niggling questions. I know you don’t know me... I know that you have no reason to trust me but... something bad is happening to Angel and I want to find out what that is properly. I want to find evidence that will stick and make sure that Angel is safe. Please...”

“Won’t you tell me what your suspicions are?”

“Yes... I will, I promise but right now I don’t have time. Angel is at risk. You have no idea how much danger. I have to go to him. I’ll explain everything, I promise.”

“Very well... Dr Cole is coming here straight from his clinic in London. He will be here at about five. If I haven’t heard anything from you by then I will have to report this to the authorities.”

“By then I hope you won’t have to. Thank you.”

After hanging up Marcus was again overcome with an overwhelming sense of foreboding and ear for Angel and was half way to the door when a cry from Charlie stopped him dead. She was standing near the fireplace. While he had been talking to Dr Scott she had been leaning against it, idly toying with the carvings, tweaking and pulling and had accidentally sprung a hidden catch. A section of the woodwork had swung open to reveal a small cavity in which was stored a wooden box. The box was now open in her hands.

Abandoning his plans to go after the Bishops then and there, caught by the sheer horror on Charlie’s face he crossed the room in two strides. Gently he took the box from her numb hands and set it on the table. One by one he took out the contents and laid them besides the box.

Four small glass bottles, all nearly empty. A handful of unused syringes. A strange contraption like a space age pair of binoculars, fused and curved to fit the face with a slot on the far side. A Dictaphone and some tapes. And finally a small sheaf of papers that looked like photographs printed off a computer.

Curiously Marcus turned the binocular type contraption over and over in his hands. It was black, curiously light and inexplicably sinister. He had no idea what it was. Raising it to his eyes he found it fitted closely to his face so that he could see nothing, not even a chink of light seeping in around the rubberised seal. His fingers found a button on the side. He pressed it and instantly his eyes were assailed by sharp pulses of light.

With a gasp he threw the thing down on the table where it continued to flash until Charlton switched it off. With trembling fingers Charlie reached for the Dictaphone. Picking up a tape at random she switched it on and they listened to the soft unfamiliar hypnotic voice with chilling fascination.

Charlton picked up the papers and thumbed through them, realising they were, indeed printed photographs. One by one he threw the photographs onto the table... a man with startling blue eyes; an envelope with strange spidery black writing; a path through the garden; a shed... When he got to the last photograph he froze.

Marcus and Charlie were still listening to the tape. They could not turn it off. They were almost hypnotised themselves by the soft voice that whispered on and on, commanding, cadjoling, compelling... look at the light and remember... open your mind and surrender to the light... listen only to my voice and let the light take you... see the picture... let the picture become the whole of your world... remember the image... remember the light... remember the feeling.. remember... remember.

“Master Marcus, Lady Charlotte... I... I think you should see this.”

They glanced up and Charlton held out the photograph. Instantly Marcus was moving, sprinting for the door, calling over is shoulder.

“Call the cops Charlton. Get the police to the church. Do it now.” Charlie was at his shoulder as the door slammed closed.

Charlton reached for the phone and allowed the photograph to fall from his fingers. It floated down to the desk where it lay, jewel bright in the sunshine, a glittering stained glass angel.

***
When the limousine pulled up at the church Charles ushered the family out. To Angel the trip had passed in a blur. He had not taken part in any conversation and, indeed he had barely even registered them. Arthur had watched him surreptitiously and kept close to his side as he stumbled from the dim interior to blink owlishly in the bright sunshine.

“Are you okay Angel?”

He was treated to a 100% full on sapphire blue stare which shocked the hell out of him because there was nothing behind it, nothing at all.

“Angel?”

“Arthur!” His father’s sharp voice was almost like a slap and he tore his eyes away from Angel to regard him nervously, his eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights. ‘Surely’ he thought, ‘surely he won’t hit me here. He won’t touch me in front of all these people’. “Leave Alexander alone and pay attention to your own affairs.”

“Yes father.” He said automatically.

They mingled mercilessly and were soon separated although, surprisingly Henry and Charles stayed close to Angel.

Angel smiled and was pleasant to everyone he met, although he could not, afterwards, have said who they were, or what they said. Conversation flowed around him and occasionally he caught up on what was being said and offered a word or two of his own. By and large however he drifted through the crowds, led here and there by Henry and Charles who did most of the talking, mostly oblivious.

Although the weather was fair with an overarching sky of relentless, unbroken blue, relieved only by the heavy golden orb of the sun, Angel felt cold. There was a sense of foreboding gathering around him and he had an uneasy feeling that something bad was about to happen. Destiny pressed heavily on his shoulders and he felt led, whether towards or away from something he didn’t know.

Somewhere deep inside something was struggling. It was something small and mainly overwhelmed by the strange lethargy that blanketed his mind and drugged his body, however it was there and it was growing. There was something that he should be aware of, something he should be thinking, something he should be worried about, something he should be afraid of.

Even though the nagging inside him was persistent it was not strong enough to break through the numbness, not yet, and so he wandered here and there, aimless and thoughtless examining the niggle with interest but no understanding.

He looked up. The garden party was laid out on the enclosed lawns at the front of the church. There were marquees and stalls, a corner where children were boisterously playing games, and another where elderly matrons were sitting at tables drinking tea. Young people were lounging in groups here and there and, over near the church a platform had been erected and was swarming with technicians, setting up loudspeakers and microphones. You’d swear there was about to be a rock concert and not a round of speeches by the pastor and local dignitaries

The church was not particularly large but it was impressive, designed on the gothic cathedrals in Salisbury and Wells but on a much smaller scale. Spun sugar spires dotted the roof and liquorice twists in carved stone lined the soaring arched windows. A single spire reached for heaven surmounted by a gleaming gold cross.

Finding himself somehow drawn Angel’s feet led him towards the door of the church. Charles and Henry had been talking to someone, absorbed in their social climbing attempts and they did not notice him slip away. Almost instantly he was absorbed into the crowd, floating on a sea of shallow greeting and meaningless conversation.

Slowly but surely he drew closer and closer to the door. It was huge, soaring trellises supported the arched portico and the door itself was solid wood, studded with iron spikes. The porch was cool after the pummelling heat of the sun and Angel shivered. It occurred to him that the way his hands were shaking wasn’t a good thing and neither was the pounding pain behind his left eye. However, it wasn’t important and so he dismissed it.

For some reason it was important that he went into the church. He knew that they were all going to go into the church later but he didn’t want to wait until later, he wanted to go in now. But when he pushed against the wooden door he suddenly felt incredibly tired.

There were stone benches in the porch and he sat down on one and leaned his head back against the wall, and closed his eyes. Surely it wouldn’t matter if he just rested for a while.

It was pleasant in the shadows and the coolness soothed his headache. A small smile played on his lips and he almost drifted off to sleep. He was dozing when the grip on his arm jerked him back to awareness and woke the headache into violent and spiteful life.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A voice hissed as the hand on his arm yanked him to his feet. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Don’t go in the church yet you idiot. It’s not time.”

Something sparked in Angel, a flash of anger, and he shook his arm free. “Who the fuck do you think you are to tell me what I can and can’t do?”

Henry stepped back in shock and glanced at his father. Charles looked annoyed but smiled at him and motioned with his head for him to leave. When they were alone Charles put his hands on Angel’s shoulders and looked into his eyes.

“Relax Alexander... it’s alright now. Henry is a fool, he isn’t worth thinking about, dismiss him from your mind.”

The spark that had momentarily been kindled in his head flickered at the soft words, the steady, slow, familiar voice. Charles continued to speak but after a while Angel had no idea what he was saying. The spark spluttered and died and Angel sank beneath the blanket once again.

Charles smiled to feel the trembling in Angel’s shoulders under his hands. It was faint now but soon it would grow and become all consuming. Angel swayed and Charles watched his eyes grow heavy and dull. Only when he was absolutely sure that Angel was entirely back in the grip of the conditioned control did he stop speaking and stand for a while, his hands still resting on Angel’s shoulders steadying him.

“It’s alright Alexander. It’s almost over now. You only have to hold on for a little while and then you can sleep. You would like that wouldn’t you?”

“Sleep. Yes. Sleepy.” Angel’s eyes fluttered and Charles gave him a little shake.

“No. Not now Angel. It’s no time for you to sleep, not yet. Wake up now.” Angel opened his eyes and Charles smiled. “There’s a good boy. Come on now. The speeches are about to start and I don’t want you to miss any of them. At least I don’t want you to be seen to be missing any of them. That’s what this is all about after all... for you to be seen.”

Taking him by the arm Charles led him back out onto the lawn. A man dressed in the long black robes of the church was climbing up onto the platform. Angel had no idea who he was or what he said, or the woman who came next or the one after. The speeches rolled on and rolled over him, the words not touching him.

Idly he watched the colours swirl by as people passed and paused, exchanged pleasantries with Charles, remarked on how wonderful it was to see Angel out and about, how much they missed his parents, especially his mother at events like this... and so it went on, and none of it touched him.

A paper cup was pressed into his hand and he sipped automatically. It tasted bitter but Charles told him to drink it and he did.

***
At about the time the pastor thanked everyone for coming and invited them to follow him into the church for the unveiling a silver sports car screeched to a halt just outside the gate. A few of the people who were nearby turned to look wondering but they lost interested in the general crush to get into the church.

Marcus and Charlie elbowed their way through the crowd but it was hopeless. They were funnelling into the church door and the closer they got the more densely packed the crowd became. Given that the crowd was mainly made up of middle aged women and elderly gentlemen none of them were prepared to give and inch.

Finally they found themselves on the outer edge and stepped back into open space to take stock.

“What the hell are we going to do?”

“I don’t know but if we don’t do it soon I swear I am going to kill someone.”

“Can you see him? Can you see any of them?”

“No. I can't see a bloody thing. There’s too many hats.”

“There are always too many hats. Right... drastic measures. Hold on Marcus.”

“Hold on to what? What are you...?”

Charlie grabbed his hand and began to tow him along the edge of the crowd. When they got near the door she plunged in and all Marcus could hear was “Excuse me... pardon me... dreadfully sorry... coming through...” And Charlie blasted them all out of the way, her elbows pumping like a steam train, forging a path. Smiling to himself and trying to hide it Marcus followed.

They were almost at the door now and still no sign of any of the Bishops.

“They must be inside.”

“O God I hope they’re not. I hope Angel isn’t in there.”

“Don’t panic. They won’t unveil the window until everyone is inside and he’s safe until he sees that.”

“Safe? That’s not the word I would have used.”

“You know what I mean... now shut up and squeeze.”

It was easy for Charlie... she was small, slender and, for good measure, cute. Marcus was almost exactly the opposite. People who not only moved out of the way for her, but smiled at her while they did it, closed ranks again or let him pass with a scowl and occasionally a dig in the ribs. He was feeling quite sore by the time he elbowed aside a woman in a huge pink hat who berated him in a high pitch voice as he did so, and slipped through the door and into the cool interior of the church