The Revelation Room (The Ben Whittle Investigation Series Book 1) (20 page)

Ebb raised the shovel above his
head. ‘You have shamed the shovel.’

Tweezer writhed on the floor. He looked over his shoulder at
the shovel.

Ebb brought the shovel down in a sideways arc designed to
decapitate. He watched Tweezer roll out of the way with the dexterity of a man
possessed by Satan. The shovel slammed into the concrete floor inches from
Tweezer’s head.  

Ebb’s heart stomped around in his chest like a petulant
child. Before he had time to raise the shovel again, Tweezer pounced. He
grabbed Ebb’s left ankle and yanked hard enough to spill his assailant on top
of him. The shovel slipped out of Ebb’s hands and clattered to the floor beside
them.

‘Help me,’ Ebb squawked, as Tweezer jabbed him in the eye.
One of Tweezer’s rings ploughed a furrow in Ebb’s left cheek, deep enough to
draw blood. Ebb clutched his injured eye. Taking advantage of his opponent’s
distraction, Tweezer bucked and threw Ebb sideways. He then rolled over and
pinned Ebb to the floor with his forearm across his throat. Ebb responded by
kicking and thrashing and making noises in his throat that belonged to the
mortally wounded. Tweezer pushed down harder, resting all his weight on Ebb’s
throat.

Ebb stared up into those murderous eyes. Those deceitful
eyes. The eyes of Brutus. Puke decorated Tweezer’s goatee beard. Ebb wanted to
cry out for mercy, but the pressure from Tweezer’s arm shut off his throat.

Spit bubbled and foamed on Tweezer’s lips, reminding Ebb of
Briers lock where the unfortunate lock-keeper, Big Jim Bunyan, had drowned.
Snot and blood dribbled out of Tweezer’s nose. Ebb could see every blackhead
and blemish on his attacker’s contorted face. The grin on his chops convinced
Ebb he was dealing with Satan himself.

To Ebb’s horror, Tweezer leaned closer. Ebb could smell his
foul breath. Snot and sweat dripped onto Ebb’s skin. For one terrible moment,
Ebb thought Tweezer was going to kiss him.

Tweezer opened his mouth wide. Like a vampire about to
strike terror into a neck. But he didn’t bite his neck. No, sir. That callous
swine had far worse intentions. He closed his mouth over Ebb’s nose and bit
down, right through to the bone. He then chewed his way through sinew and
gristle before wrenching a portion of Ebb’s mangled nose from his face.

The centre of Ebb’s face exploded in a ball of flame. The
flames leapt into his brain and set his thoughts on fire. Ebb tried to scream,
but his throat was still pinned beneath Tweezer’s weight. His legs kicked out
like a dying fly stranded on its back trying to fight the effects of an
insecticide spray.

Ebb didn’t see Max attack. He didn’t even feel the dog’s
teeth rip into the bottom of his right leg. His injured nose commanded control
of all his senses. But as Max bit deeper and shook Ebb’s leg from side to side,
the pain ripped up into his groin and seized him by the balls.

Ebb tried to scream but only managed to squeak and hiss. His
hips gyrated like Elvis on speed as he tried to dislodge his attacker. His bare
feet scraped against the concrete floor, tearing the skin and drawing blood.

A gunshot. Way off on a distant galaxy. Perhaps a shooting
star come to save mummy’s little Pixie-pea. 

Tweezer screamed and released his grip on Ebb’s nose as the
bullet hit him in the back of his neck. Tweezer stared at him with eyes that
seemed to attempt to hatch from their sockets. He panted and dribbled foam like
a rabid dog. His lips were stained crimson. A grimace stretched those bloodied
lips into a wide clown’s grin.

Ebb’s throat whistled and wheezed and did its best to
scream. Stars danced and popped before his eyes. A loud thudding noise boomed
in his ears. All the things he’d done for Tweezer. Saved his miserable life when
the outcast had turned up at The Sons and Daughters of Salvation with no crib
for a bed.

Tweezer opened his mouth and yawned blood.

Another shot echoed around the walls of the Revelation Room.
Max released Ebb’s leg as Marcus shot her in the back. Max howled and whined as
the bullet smashed through her ribs and punctured her lung.

Marcus fired again. This time, the bullet hit Tweezer in the
base of his spine. It severed the spinal cord and killed him. Tweezer fell
forwards and treated Ebb to fifteen stones of dead weight. By the time Marcus
hauled Tweezer off him, Edward Ebb was unconscious and drowning in the rabid
waters of Briers lock.

Ebb regained consciousness five minutes later to find
Brother Marcus hovering over him like an expectant father trying to figure out
how to deliver a child. Most of his hair had escaped his ponytail in wild,
sweaty strands.

‘Are you all right, Father?’

Ebb gasped for air and prayed that the Lord would give him
the strength to survive this awful unprovoked attack. He could see Tweezer
lying face down on the floor a few yards to his left.

Ebb’s throat was one step short of strangled.
‘Tweezer?’ 

‘He’s dead, Father.’

Ebb tried to speak; it was like trying to summon words from
a bog. The middle of his face felt as if it had been used to launch a rocket
into space.

‘I shot him,’ Marcus elaborated.

Ebb wheezed and coughed. ‘Maxine?’

Marcus looked away. ‘She’s still breathing.’

Ebb found his voice. ‘What do you mean, “she’s still
breathing”? What have you done to her, you idiot?’

‘I shot her, Father.’

Ebb willed his body to rise up and beat Marcus to a pulp.
‘You did what?’

‘I had to, Father. She attacked you.’

This was all the fault of the Infiltrator. Ever since that
imposter had shown up, everything had gone wrong. The Infiltrator had somehow
orchestrated the whole thing. As soon as he had enough strength in his ravaged
body, he would get answers out of him by blood or by stone.
   

‘You’d better pray that Maxine doesn’t die, Brother Marcus.’

The twitch at the corner of Marcus’s eye started up again.
‘I’m sorry, Father. I didn’t know what else to do. She attacked you. She must
have got confused with everything that was going on.’

Ebb glared at Marcus. ‘That dog means more to me than
anything else on this planet. So you’d better start praying.’

‘I could take him to a vet, Father.’

‘Max is not a “him”,’ Ebb wheezed. ‘He’s a “she”. And you’re
not taking her to any vets. The same rule applies to animals as it does to
people. We must never interfere with God’s intention. If she is to die because
of your gross incompetence, then that is God’s will. Do you oppose God’s will?’

Marcus shook his head. ‘No. No, of course—’

‘Pray, Brother Marcus. Pray with all your heart.’

Marcus looked as if he’d just been asked to solve
mathematical riddles in his head. ‘Now, Father?’

Ebb ignored him. Either Marcus was trying to bait him, or he
was as dumb as a muddy puddle. He pointed at Tweezer’s body. ‘Shoot him.’

‘But he’s already dead, Father.’

‘Are you a doctor?’

‘No, Father.’

‘Then what qualifies you to award a death certificate?’

Marcus picked up the rifle and emptied three more bullets
into Tweezer’s corpse. He lowered the rifle. ‘That’s all the bullets gone,
Father.’

Ebb didn’t care. A thousand bullets might not be enough to
kill a heinous creature like Tweezer. You could never be certain. Of that he
was certain. ‘I need treatment. That swine’s bitten my nose.’

Marcus peered at Ebb’s wounded face. ‘Can you walk, Father?’

The mention of walking made Ebb’s injured leg throb. ‘I
don’t know. Help me up.’

Marcus helped him to his feet and then buzzed about him like
a fly wondering whether to offload its eggs. ‘Shall I fetch Sister Alice?’

Ebb shook his head. A mistake. His brain bounced off the
sides of his skull.

My poor little Pixie-pea
, his mother said from
beneath the shroud of her pink wig.

Ebb told her to shut up.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. ‘Pardon, Father?’

Ebb regarded Marcus warily. He was more than aware that evil
spirits could hop from one body to another like a virus in a Russian winter. It
might well transpire that all the bunnies would need to be burned after this
sorry episode. It might be prudent to start again with Benjamin and Madeline.
Perhaps those two could breed a new generation of The Sons and Daughters of Salvation.
At least a new generation could be raised up pure and proper without fear of
interference and risk of contamination.

Has Pixie-pea bitten off his nose to spite his face?

Ebb gawked at his mother’s skeleton. He was sorely tempted
to go over there and dismantle her bone by bone.  

Marcus turned his attention to the Infiltrator. ‘I still
don’t understand what a cop would be doing up a tree.’

Ebb was in no mood to discuss the Infiltrator. ‘Perhaps he
was trying to rescue a cat.’

‘We don’t have a cat.’

Ebb snorted. A huge mistake. He ignited the afterburners
idling on the spot where his nose used to be. He beat his fists against his
sides and panted like a woman in the throes of labour. When the agony had
subsided enough to allow the passage of words, Ebb chose them carefully. ‘I
don’t know why he was perched up a tree with a long-range camera any more than
I know why you seem to persist in babbling nonsense every time you open your
mouth. But I’ll tell you this much: if he is a cop, and any cops show up here,
that’s the end. Over and out. Roger that?’

Brother Marcus looked at him with those blank-canvas eyes.

Ebb tried to summon saliva into his mouth. ‘Everyone is to
come to the Revelation Room. We shall pray. And then we shall set the fire.’

‘Fire?’ Marcus squawked.

Ebb was now convinced that Brother Marcus had the leadership
qualities of a chimpanzee. He clearly didn’t have a brain capable of
independent thought. One thing was for certain in these dangerous times: he was
in no mood to let his nose burn whilst Brother Marcus fiddled. ‘I want you to
help me up to my room. Then go and get Sister Alice. Then get dressed in your
overalls and get back up that tower. If any cops show up, I don’t want you to
engage them in a shoot-out. This is not the OK Corral. You come and tell me so
we can get all the bunnies down the rabbit hole.’

‘The rabbit hole?’

‘Down here, Pixie-pea.’

‘Yes, Father.’

What a mess
, Ebb thought.
What a great big,
tub-thumping mess.

‘Oh, Father,’ Sister Alice cooed, looking at Ebb and
stroking his head with her long slender fingers. ‘What on earth happened?’

Ebb tried to force a smile. A
try to be a brave little
soldier whilst you lie to the doctor about how you fell down the stairs
kind of smile. ‘Brother Tweezer attacked me.’

Sister Alice looked as if an invisible hand had slapped her
across the face. ‘Attacked you? Whatever for?’

‘Did Brother Marcus not tell you?’

‘He told me you were hurt, Father. He didn’t say anything
else.’

Ebb gargled blood and swallowed a thick clot. ‘Brother
Tweezer had the Devil inside him. Brother Marcus shot him.’

Alice’s eyes doubled in size. ‘Shot him?’

‘I’m afraid he had little choice. Brother Tweezer was out of
control.’

Alice bit her lower lip. ‘I thought Brother Tweezer was
pure.’

Ebb laughed. It sounded like a frog trying to learn to
croak. ‘This is the very reason I tell everyone to be on their guard.’

‘Where’s Brother Tweezer now?’

Ebb swallowed another clot and almost gagged. ‘In the
Revelation Room. He’s dead.’

‘Oh my God.’

‘Maxine, too, I fear.’

‘That’s terrible, Father.’

Blood dribbled onto his top lip. ‘We’ve got a crisis on our
hands. A crisis of gigantic proportions.’

‘But if Brother Tweezer’s dead, I don’t see—’

Ebb held up a hand. ‘I fear Brother Marcus was contaminated
when he killed Brother Tweezer.’

‘Contaminated?’

‘Satan is more than capable of jumping from one host to
another. Especially in circumstances such as these.’

‘Do you think Satan is inside Brother Marcus?’

Ebb was willing to nail it to a mast and set sail in a high
wind with it. ‘It’s a certainty.’

Alice looked away. ‘Is it wise to let him have possession of
a rifle, Father?’

Ebb tried to sniff with a nose that was largely missing from
its post. ‘It’s best not to alert Satan. Let him believe that he’s fooled us.
That way we can buy some time.’

Sister Alice peered closer at the congealing wound in the
middle of Ebb’s face. ‘You need to go to a hospital.’

‘I’m not going to hospital. Not with the group in such
disarray.’

‘Then let me call a doctor.’

‘No. I’m not having any agent of the state setting foot on
my premises.’

‘I know you always want to put yourself first, Father, but
the wound needs treating. It might need suturing.’

Ebb shifted on the bed and tried to make himself
comfortable. His beautiful king-sized bed had turned itself into a bed of
nails. ‘Suturing, my eye. It needs bathing and dressing. There’s TCP and
bandages in the medicine cabinet. You’ll find a small plastic bowl in the cupboard
beneath the basin. It might be prudent to give it a swill out. I usually use it
for soaking my feet.’

Alice straightened up and headed off to the en-suite
bathroom... ‘As you wish, Father.’

Ebb watched her go. He wished all the members of The Sons and
Daughters of Salvation behaved with the same level of decorum and dignity as
Sister Alice. Unfortunately, the rest of them seemed to be mutinous trouble
makers who needed constant observation and appraisal.

As for Madeline, his mind was torn in two. One part of him
believed that Brother Tweezer was guilty as charged and sentenced accordingly.
But there was a tiny sliver of doubt. What if she
had
enticed him? It
was well within the capabilities of Satan to use such tactics. Money wasn’t the
root of all evil; seduction was.

Act in haste, repent at leisure
.

Ebb twisted his head to one side as his mother’s hot breath
blew against his ear. He could even smell stale booze on her breath, which was
scary considering Tweezer had robbed him of the best part of his nose. ‘Go
away. Leave me alone.’

‘Pardon, Father?’ Sister Alice called from the bathroom.

Ebb didn’t hear her. All his senses were tuned in to that
hot breath.

All the bunnies must burn, Pixie-pea.

Ebb opened his mouth to disagree and then clamped it shut.
His mother had a point. Apart from Sister Alice, how could he trust any of the
others? Sister Dixie was nothing more than a pay-as-you-go whore. Sister Emily
was a decent housemaid, but utterly dispensable. Bubba was a dangerous mute,
and Brother Marcus a glorified drug dealer with the brain capacity of a pebble.
 

By the time Sister Alice returned with a bowl of warm water
laced with TCP, a length of bandage and a bag of cotton wool balls, Ebb was
convinced that he would have to start afresh with The Sons and Daughters of
Salvation. A clean sweep. Even Madeline and Benjamin would have to be
sacrificed. He couldn’t afford to take any more risks. You only needed to take
a peek in the Revelation Room to understand how dangerous it was to trust
people.

Alice cleared the bedside table and placed the bowl on top.
She put the bag of cotton wool balls on the bed, took one out and dipped it in
the water. ‘Are you ready, Father?’

Ebb nodded, his mind cast adrift with thoughts of burnt
bunnies.

Alice dabbed his wounded nose with the cotton wool.

Ebb screamed as the rocket took off again from its launch
pad in the centre of his face. Fire roared from his injured nose and went into
orbit around the inside of his skull.  

Sister Alice withdrew the cotton wool ball from Ebb’s nose
and stepped away from the bed. ‘I told you that you needed medical attention.’

Ebb was in no mood to listen to reason. He was too busy
piloting his own internal rocket. He beat his fists against the white cotton
sheet as though trying to transfer the pain. After close on two minutes, the
rocket switched off the burners. Ebb lay panting on the bed, his neck contorted
at an awkward angle.

Sister Alice studied him the way someone might study a
dangerous animal. ‘You’ll have to let me call a doctor.’

‘No,’ Ebb wheezed. ‘No doctors. Just get me sleeping pills.
There’s some in the medicine cabinet.’

‘Okay.’

‘And there’s a half bottle of whiskey under the kitchen
sink.’

‘Is it wise to drink alcohol and take sleeping tablets?’

Ebb hoped that Sister Alice wouldn’t get all motherly with
him. He was in no mood to be anyone’s Pixie-pea. ‘I’ve had half my face bitten
off by that madman. I don’t need any lectures about pain relief.’

‘Yes, Father. Sorry, Father.’

Ebb watched her walk out of the room. Tears leaked down his
cheeks. He resisted an urge to wipe them away in case he touched the pothole in
the middle of his face. As he tried to shift his neck into a more comfortable
position, a terrible thought struck him: What if Tweezer had AIDS? Or
hepatitis? Or syphilis? A sudden urge seized him to phone the hospital and
demand a blood transfusion.

The more he considered it, the more convinced he became that
Tweezer was a carrier of some horrendous disease. It was well known that
syphilis turned its victim as mad as a Mormon. It made perfect sense when you
considered the man’s lifestyle prior to joining The Sons and Daughters of
Salvation. Those biker sorts were always at it like spring bunnies in a meadow.
 

By the time Sister Alice returned with the sleeping tablets
and the bottle of whiskey, Ebb was already preparing for death. He relayed his
fears to Sister Alice.

Sister Alice did little to allay those fears. ‘Let’s just
deal with one thing at a time.’

He washed down three sleeping tablets with all the whiskey.
Straight
down the hatch
as Reg the Veg might have said in his more liberated days.
He then handed the bottle back to Alice and eased himself down on the bed. ‘As
soon as I’m asleep, tend to the wound and bandage it.’

‘Yes, Father.’

Sister Alice’s spiky grey hair put him in mind of
stalactites. He started to sink into beautiful black oblivion.  ‘I am the
wolf.’