The Ghoul of Christmas Past

now.
Blake shook his head. ‘Look at this place. There’s no money coming in and he’s got us rigging explosives to blow a circular hole in the ceiling of the basement. He wouldn’t tell us what is above it, would he?’
‘So?’
‘So he wants us to get the job done and leave. That’s what. What if it is something far more valuable than the five grand he agreed to pay us?’
Blake’s question made Edward’s hands freeze. ‘Like what?’ he wanted to know, pound signs clicking into place behind his eyes.
Blake shrugged. ‘Maybe it’s a safe.’
‘A safe?’ Edward scoffed, but he had to wonder if his partner might be right.
‘All right, so maybe it’s not a safe. But it must be something, right? You asked for five grand, and he agreed like it was pocket change.’
Edward turned to look at his colleague, a silent exchange taking place as both men thought about what might be on the floor above them.
They were both sitting on top of a high portable podium, the electric type that scissors up and down to access work at height. On any other site the health and safety squad would have torn them apart and thrown them off site, but they were the only people in the building apart from Mr Dickens. At least, so far as they knew. The moaning sound he kept hearing might be creeping Blake out, but they were about done with the job and that meant they needed to go find Mr Dickens again. One thing was for certain, they were not leaving without their five-grand bonus, but now they were both wondering if there was something far greater at stake.
‘We should check it out,’ suggested Edward.
‘What have you got left to do?’
Edward turned his attention back to the cables in his hands. ‘Just connect this up.’
Ten minutes later, the podium had been lowered to the floor and they were making their way back upstairs to look for Mr Dickens.
Exiting the basement, Edward pointed to their left. ‘It’s over there somewhere.’
Once they were back on the floor in the basement, they had done their best to estimate the position of the explosives using the walls as reference points. However, upstairs they were in the theme park and the walls were hidden from sight. That made it hard to pinpoint where they wanted to go and the lights being off didn’t help. Nevertheless, they had a rough idea, and discovered that where they believed the ring of explosives to be was behind a wall.
They followed it until they found a way in, both pausing beneath the entrance to read the sign above their head. ‘The Dickens experience flume ride,’ Edward said aloud.
Venturing inside, it was quickly clear they were blowing up a section of floor beneath the ride. It was impossible to pinpoint the exact location, though Mr Dickens had already marked it out for them on the ceiling below so he must have worked it out.
‘Why are we blowing up an old theme park flume ride?’ asked Blake.
He didn’t expect an answer and didn’t get one. Instead, Edward said, ‘Let’s just hope that Mr Dickens gets back here soon with the money, this place gives me the creeps. Here, do you fancy a pint at the Drowned Duck before you head home? I’m buying.’

The House of Richard Glaagard. Saturday, December 24th 1454hrs
Using his new-fangled phone, Michael managed to find the contact number he had for Rob Whittaker, the guard from the museum who he knew from the veterans’ bar. However, when he made the phone call it went directly to voice mail.
‘Rob, this is Michael Michaels. Can you call me back? It’s about the thefts from the museum.’ Message left, he thought about calling Mary but dismissed the idea. If she knew he was finished at the police station she would expect him home. This way, unless she directly asked him what time he had left, he could bluff that he came from there to her. He wasn’t taking that much of a detour though, just going the long route to check on something.
The walk took Michael longer than he expected which was mostly because he couldn’t find the house he was looking for. He ignored it the first two times he passed it because, to his mind, it wasn’t a house. It registered on his mental scale for houses as a residence, which placed it one above a property and one below a grand mansion. Having finally spotted the name on the plaque outside, he then questioned whether he should be approaching the front door even as he wandered along the sweeping driveway.
Glaagard Point overlooked the river Medway from a commanding position not far from the castle. It was a tall, wide, imposing building that did not look inviting at all. Perhaps in the summer months when there were leaves on the trees and bushes and flowers growing in the beds it would have a more appealing front façade.
However, there were Christmas lights flashing in the window, and a tree visible in a ground floor window, its brightly coloured decorations easy to see as Michael approached the house. There were cars too, several of them, including a rather nice Italian sports car.
To the left as he looked at the property, was a carport and garage that looked capable of housing several cars. To the right were trees and bushes, clipped and shaped to show that the garden was well-tended by someone. Just as he was admiring the shrubbery, Michael saw a face move in and out of the greenery.
Jolting him like an electric shock, Michael’s pulse immediately spiked as if he’d been caught doing something very wrong. Remembering that he was just a person walking down a driveway to a house, he forced his feet to continue and stared into the spot where the face had