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It seemed at first as if I was trapped in a perpetual night-time of total darkness. I thought I had opened my eyes sufficiently to see the world around me, but, when there was nothing to be seen, I bit back the pain and slowly eased them open as fully as I could manage. But still the world remained in total darkness. A terrible, irrational fear came over me in a moment, the notion that I had in fact died under the powerful blows of Selkman and now lay in some intermediate zone of darkness, a void if you like, between the one world and the next, awaiting my fate of Heaven or Hell.
Trembling at the thought and filled in an instant with remorse and regret, afraid that I might have failed to live to a sufficient degree the life of an upstanding God-fearing, loving and forgiving man, I cried out within at the possibility I might be destined for the underworld. If only I could live my life again, I wouldn’t repeat those mistakes that may have marked me down as unworthy of ascending to Paradise. But I couldn’t do any such thing, of course, for my days were done and it was the time of reckoning.
Tears began to form under my eyelids, so wretched did I feel, but as the very worst of thoughts were consuming me like a raging fire does a new, dried log, deliverance was presented to me. As my eyes adjusted to my new situation, they were able to make out slivers of light from somewhere up above me. As I struggled to focus in on the light, it grew brighter and clearer, until I was able, at last, to make out what it was. Away and up to my right there was a door and the light I could see was penetrating the gap between the door itself and its frame. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
A prayer of gratitude left my lips; A heartfelt thanks for being given another chance. Never had I felt so close to my God as I did then. I was a young, headstrong, fool who had very nearly thrown away his life with hardly a decent thing to show for it. My sense of relief was immense.
I reached out tentatively around me with both hands, for I had by now realised that I was laid out on a floor which was, I discovered, nothing other than cold, damp earth. That and the position of the doorway above me suggested only one thing, that I was in the cellar of the Doctor’s house. A natural enough place to incarcerate me, I supposed, seeing as I had managed to escape from the locked bedroom.
Wanting to investigate further, I then attempted to sit up, but had barely raised my head from the ground than the left side of my face started to throb and burn. A terrible headache hit me with such force that I felt instantly sick. Unable to compose myself, I eased my head back to the ground, hoping the pain would abate and the sickness leave me, but instead I started to feel light-headed and was glad not to be on my feet. I closed my eyes and tried to persuade my mind and body that the pain wasn’t real, just a figment of my imagination, and, in a moment or two, I was unconscious once more.
*
IT WAS THE SHAKING that awoke me. Rough and unforgiving, it moved my whole body from side to side, as if I was a rag doll. I wished it would stop, for the violent movements made my headache all the worse and did little for the pain that seared the side of my face. As I came to, feeling groggy and stiff from the cold, I began to hear a voice somewhere close by. At first, all I could make out were two or three words here and there and it took me a little while to regain my senses and start to understand what was being said.
Big powerful hands gripped me under the armpits and pulled me upright, into a seated position, then dragged me backwards until I was loosely propped up against a damp wall. Every muscle in my body seemed to ache, my mouth was dry as the Sahara Desert and I found it hard to focus. The room had become an unstable blur and there was a strong smell of decay and damp in my nostrils that made me shiver a little.
“Templeman! Can you hear me?” The voice was commanding and unmistakeable. So close I could hardly fail to recognise it as that of Sneijder, even through my weakened state. “Selkman,” he barked. The giant grabbed my right shoulder and shook me aggressively.
“All right,” I mumbled through my dry lips. “Enough.”
“Water, Selkman.”
The henchman held a glass to my lips and pushed my head back, so that my mouth opened. It was all I could do not to choke on the cool, fresh water as it poured into my mouth and, welcome though it was, I had to put a hand up to indicate I’d had enough for the time being.
“You can hear me properly now, Templeman?” asked Sneijder.
“Yes.” I nodded weakly, immediately regretting the effort, as it was rewarded with yet more pain in my head.
“Good, then I can make myself clear.” Sneijder was standing alongside me, completing a pincer movement with Selkman, who remained in place to my right. There cannot have been any light fittings in the room, for Sneijder held a torch, which he ran up and down the length of me twice, no doubt assessing my condition. “You have been a considerable problem to me since we found you lying on our driveway, Mr Templeman. I have expended time and energy attending to your injuries, provided you with food and lodging when there was no compunction upon me to do so and, until recently, given you almost a free run of the house. And how have you repaid me, Mr Templeman?”
I tried to speak, but instead began to cough. Selkman returned with the glass of water and I drank from it again, eking out every possible second so that I could continue to recover my senses. Sneijder flashed the torch in my eyes, causing me to turn away and raise a hand in front of my face.
“I will tell you how you have repaid my hospitality, Mr Templeman. You have upset my patients and interfered with their treatment. You have attacked and knocked unconscious my housekeeper and you have assaulted Selkman here; more fool you.”
Sneijder paused. I wasn’t sure if it was for my benefit, so that I might better keep up with what I was being told, or for Sneijder to consider his next words before delivering them.
“Well, I can assure you now that your interference in my work here is at an end. I simply will not tolerate any more meddling from you.” There was anger in his voice and the beam from the torch wobbled in all directions as his hand shook with fury. “You will now remain here in the cellar until our work is complete. And you should be under no illusions, Templeman, should you attempt another escape you can expect to be shot, dead if necessary. Do I make myself clear?”
I was, for a moment, somewhat taken aback by the nature of his threat. Did he really expect me to believe that he would shoot a man dead, in cold blood? I looked at him hard, trying to focus my eyes fully, in an attempt to better assess his intentions, but a combination of the almost non-existent lighting and my muddled head meant that I could hardly make out much of the man at all.
“I know what you are doing, Sneijder,” I muttered, my brain not quite able to communicate with my mouth properly.
“Do you indeed? Did you hear that, Selkman? He knows what we are doing. I wonder what on Earth he can mean?” The sarcasm in Sneijder’s words was difficult to miss. “You’re a fool, Templeman. What do you think you can do against the three of us in this isolated spot, miles from anywhere and lost in a fog so thick you cannot see beyond the end of your nose?” He laughed, but without mirth.
“You won’t get...” I started, but winced with pain and gasped out loud as Sneijder landed a well-placed kick in the side of my left knee. Like any good Doctor, he knew where to find exposed and effective points of pain.
“There is no need for you to talk, Templeman. We are not interested in what you have to say. You English are all the same. You think you are so superior to everyone else. God’s chosen ones. Well, there is a new power rising, Mr Templeman, and not even the decaying, corrupt British Empire will stop it from achieving its rightful place in the world.”
“So, you are German?”
“Of course, I’m German, though I think I have done a most commendable job passing myself off as a Hollander. It took quite a lot of training to get the accent right and I spent more hours than I care to recall learning about my supposed homeland, in case anyone should be impolite enough to start asking many questions.”
“You expect war then, I take it?” I rubbed my knee, wondering how much more pain I could expect to suffer.
“Indeed, war is inevitable. If not this year, then next. And if not next, then the year after. But war will come and we will be ready for it, better prepared and better equipped than anyone else. And if I have anything to do with things, then your British Government will choose to stay out, though it does not matter if my efforts fall short, for the outcome of the fighting will be the same.”
I wanted to object, to fight our nation’s corner, but my growing anger only served to make my confusion and blurred thinking worse and the words would not come. As I struggled for something to say, I watched Sneijder bend down to pick up his Doctor’s bag, open it and lift out a needle. He nodded towards Selkman, who bent over me, that horribly familiar smirk inches from my face, and pinned my arms to my sides. Filling the needle with a clear liquid from a small bottle, Sneijder ordered Selkman to roll up my left sleeve, which he did with ease, despite my efforts to resist.
“Poison, is it, Sneijder?” It was more of an accusation than a question, for all the difference it made.
“Poison? Don’t be a fool, Templeman. That would leave evidence that could find its way back to us. No, we have other plans for you. It seems that you never did make it to the safety of this house and instead got lost on the hills, there to die of exposure; although I am sure leaving you tied up in the garden overnight will achieve the same outcome. Then Selkman will carry you to some nearby hillside and leave you there with the sheep. Someone will find your body, eventually.” He jabbed the needle into my arm and I felt the fluid being pumped into my veins. “This will merely ensure you remain asleep for a while. A sleeping man will be no further trouble to us.”
“You’ll regret this, Sneijder.” I think I must have repeated those words over and over again, more and more feebly each time, as I slipped away once more into unconsciousness.
