The Case of the Haunted Horrors by Anthony Read Page A

painted red. She hammered on it with her fist, and shouted, “Ivan! Ivan Ivanovich! Open up!”
    After a minute or two, a man’s sleepy voice from inside called, “What you want? Who is there?”
    “Is Luba. I must speak with you! Open door!”
    There was the sound of bolts being drawn back and then the door was opened a little way. Through the crack, the Boys could see a dark eye under a bushy eyebrow peering out at them suspiciously. Luba snorted and pushed the door wide open, to reveal Blackbeard. He looked startled to see the Boys and tried to close the door again, but Luba shoved him back and stepped inside.
    “What you do, crazy man?” she demanded fiercely. “You kidnap child. Lock him up?”
    “He was spying on me. Spying for Okhrana!”
    “No, he wasn’t!” Queenie shouted. “He was followin’ you ’cos he thought
you
was spying for the Oki-whatsit.”
    “I do not understand.”
    “Never mind for now,” Luba said. “Where is boy? What you do with him?”
    “He is safe, locked in attic.”
    “Bring him,” she ordered sharply. “Now!”
    Blackbeard scuttled away upstairs, unnerved by Luba’s ferocity. She marched into the nearest room and the Boys followed her. It was a bare room, with worn lino on the floor, a sofa against one wall and four hard chairs around a wooden table. On the table were piles of pamphlets and handbills, some in English, some in Russian, all printed in lurid red ink, echoing the colour of the flag hanging over the empty fireplace. The days and dates on a calendar hanging on another wall were also printed in bright red, in English this time, and some of the numbers had rings around them. Wiggins strolled over to look more closely at the picture on the calendar, which was of a foreign city filled with elegant white buildings and churches whose strange domes looked like golden onions gleaming in the sunlight.
    “Is that Russia?” he asked Luba.
    “Saint Petersburg,” she answered. “Our capital city. Is beautiful, no?”
    “Yes,” he agreed. “I wouldn’t mind going there.”
    “Hmm. Is pity it is home to so much cruelty, so much misery.”
    Before Wiggins could ask her any more, Blackbeard came back, dragging Shiner by the arm and thrusting him roughly into the room. Shiner’s face lit up when he saw the Boys, but he did his best to hide his relief.
    “What you lot doin’ ’ere?” he asked gruffly, trying to shake off Queenie as she rushed to give him a hug.
    The Boys grinned. This was the Shiner they all knew.
    “Well, he’s OK, at least,” said Beaver. “No need to ask.”
    Luba stepped forward, wagging her finger at Shiner and looking as stern as ever.
    “You are very bad boy,” she scolded him. “You must thank your friends for saving you. They were very worried.”
    “Oh, right. Thanks.”
    Luba shook her head in mock annoyance.
    “I suppose that will have to do,” she said, and pointed to the table. “Now, sit. Eat.”
    She pulled the blini from her coat pocket and piled them on the table in front of Shiner. This time he made no effort to hide his delight. As he tucked into the little pancakes – watched enviously by the other Boys – Luba smiled fondly at him, then turned back to Wiggins.
    “You must tell Ivan everything,” she said. “He will help you. He has many friends.”
    Wiggins hesitated. “I dunno,” he said. “I promised…”
    “You can trust him. The Okhrana are his most bitter enemies.”
    “They send secret agent here,” Ivan growled. “Assassin to murder me and my friends.”
    “Have you told the police –
our
police?”
    “They cannot help. They not believe us. We do not know who he is, or where he is. Only that he is very cunning.”
    “Blimey,” said Beaver, “sounds like it could be the same geezer what killed Mr Murray’s brother.”
    “Yeah, it does.”
    “There has been killing?” Ivan asked. “Tell me.”
    So Wiggins explained everything that had happened, and Ivan listened very carefully.
    “This