Chapter 39

Quist parked outside Hoffman’s house on Madeley Street and walked into the hallway with Watson and Rex. Announcing their arrival by the traditional method of knocking was awkward, as the broken front door lay in the buffer garden, its locks and one of the hinges completely smashed. The detective noticed the smudged clay handprint where someone, or more precisely something, had slammed it open from the outside.

“Afternoon,” said Watson, nodding politely to the two joiners who were repairing the damaged frame. “How’s it going?”

Hoffman met them in the lounge and nervously ushered the three men through to the rear kitchen.

“How are you?” asked Quist, noticing the damaged safe as they passed. “You were frightened, but rather vague when you called me. You say you were attacked here in your home last night?”

“Yes, but I wanted to speak face to face.” Hoffman closed the lounge and kitchen doors to prevent the workmen from overhearing anything. “I couldn’t say anything on the phone. You’d think I was insane.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” said Quist.

Sara sat at the table, nursing a coffee in both hands and eyeing them uneasily. The girl was clearly frightened.

“Are you okay?” Watson ran to her. “You look okay, but then again you always look pretty sensational. The last time I saw you, you were unconscious after going for a drive with your new friends.”

“Yeah,” she laughed, dryly. “That was scary, but believe it or not, things got a lot more scary after you brought me home.”

“Good afternoon,” said Quist, smiling warmly. “We’ve met, and I have to say, although it was a rather stimulating encounter, I’m afraid you won’t remember.”

“You’re the one.” Sara climbed to her feet and hugged him. “You’re Watson’s boss, Bernard Quist. Gramps told me about how you rescued me from those Leeds gangsters. I don’t know what to say.”

He patted her back. “You don’t have to say anything, young lady.”

“Yes, I do.” Sara kissed his cheek and felt her stomach flutter, unaware of how the wolf pheromones worked on a subliminal level. “When we have the time, I have so much I want to ask about how you got me out of there, but I honestly don’t know how to thank you.”

“I’m sure that kiss will suffice,” said the detective, sitting at the kitchen dining table with the others. “You both know my assistant Watson, of course, but this is a friend of ours, Rex Grant from London. Rex, this is Adam Hoffman and his granddaughter, Sara.”

“Well, hello there.” Rex peered over his shades and smiled sexily as Sara sat opposite him. “So you’re Watson’s girlfriend?”

“Well...” She ran a curious eye over the jet-black clothing and wondered why he was wearing sunglasses indoors. “I’m his friend.”

“Oh, I see.” Rex flashed his white teeth and gave her a wink. “Good to know.”

Sara smiled back, slightly confused; despite the tension and fear, she was feeling faintly aroused. It was hardly surprising, being in a closed room with the pheromones of two werewolves.

Watson shook his head. Even with everything that was going on, Rex was hitting on her. It was nothing new; he’d once propositioned a girl at a funeral. This in itself would have been tactless enough, but she’d been the widow.

“Mister Hoffman,” said Quist. “I believe you have something important to tell us. Please don’t worry - you can speak openly in front of Rex. He’s assisting us with this bizarre situation.”

Hoffman cleared his throat. “Firstly, I want to thank you again for everything you did for Sara last night and for coming when I rang just now.” He hid his face in both hands and Sara squeezed his arm reassuringly. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t had any sleep and I’m a little tearful. I should have told you everything yesterday, but I didn’t know how and I was so scared. You see, I achieved something truly amazing, something wonderful, but Geller corrupted it and now people are dying. I really don’t know where to begin.”

“Something amazing and wonderful?” repeated Watson. “What did you do?”

“The easiest way is to just say it.” The old man swallowed nervously. “It sounds crazy, but I created a... I know you won’t be able to accept this, but I created...”

“A golem,” said Quist. “Basically, a supernatural automaton fashioned from clay and animated by Hebrew mysticism. In Jewish folklore they were used as servants to perform strenuous tasks.”

Hoffman’s eyes widened. “You knew?”

The detective shook his head. “I knew that the individual responsible for these recent murders was some form of powerful supernatural being. I didn’t know you were behind its creation, however, nor what it actually was until the realisation dawned earlier in Daniel Geller’s apartment. Geller has been keeping it there with him and driving it to various locations to kill people. I glimpsed his car as he aided its escape from the Leeds club last night. I understand he’s named it Tonga?”

“After his pet dog,” confirmed Hoffman.

“Right,” murmured Watson. “Yeah, that’s nice.”

“I should have deduced this sooner,” said Quist. “I knew about your interests in Jewish mysticism and your training to become a rabbi, but the principal clue was the clay. In my defence, it’s been so long since I read about these creatures in the annals of mythology.”

“Hardly mythology,” said Hoffman, quietly. He gestured through the glass kitchen doors to a sunken area in the rear shrubbery where recent digging had obviously taken place. “Yes, a golem. A band of clay runs under the garden, so the basic materials were taken from there and sculpted in the cellar. I created a makeshift occult temple down there to perform the necessary rituals.”

Watson and Rex glanced at one another and Rex broke the silence.

“Gollum?” he said, frowning in puzzlement. “You mean like in Lord of the Rings?”

“Golem, not Gollum,” said Quist, patiently. “A golem.”

Hoffman nodded. “It was easier explaining this to Sara because she saw it, but...”

“It was terrifying,” muttered Sara, nodding timidly. “It came for us last night and I watched it change from a young guy into a monster. It almost killed us both. I couldn’t understand why Gramps didn’t ring the police once I was safely back home, but now I know.”

“The authorities couldn’t be informed about your abduction,” said Quist. “It would have been rather difficult for me to explain how I found you and what happened in that cellar.”

“Plus there was no one to arrest,” pointed out Rex, helpfully. “Apparently, they were all torn to bits.”

“I’m so sorry you had to encounter the golem.” Hoffman wrapped an arm around Sara’s trembling shoulders. “I never thought Geller would be mad enough to send it to kill us.” He turned to Watson and Rex. “But I don’t blame you for not believing this. I knew you’d think I was crazy.”

“Not at all,” said Quist. “You’re mistaking a lack of astonishment for disbelief.”

“Speak for yourself, Guv,” said Watson. “Yeah, I’ve seen a lot of weird shit recently, but this sounds impossible. A clay robot made by friggin’ magic?”

“Believe it,” mumbled Sara. “It’s true alright.”

“I’ve always known it was possible,” sighed Hoffman. “What the layman refers to as magic is simply a science that few people realise exists, a very ancient and esoteric science known only to a very few. The truth is, I saw one of these creatures as a child in London. A rabbi friend of my father had a huge interest in Jewish folklore and the occult sciences. He made several secret attempts to create a golem and on the final occasion he actually succeeded. It couldn’t walk very far and didn’t last long, less than two days, but my father took me to see the creature before it crumbled to dust. I was eight years old and it was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen - an actual being, moving and seemingly alive, yet constructed from clay.”

“Wow,” whispered Watson. At eight years old he’d seen Star Wars on television and thought that was amazing. Sara’s grandad had beat this hands down.

“From that moment onwards,” said Hoffman, “I was spurred into reading books, devouring them, learning the sciences and studying such things myself.”

“Incredible,” muttered Rex.

“The mistake I made was telling Daniel Geller.” Hoffman rubbed his tired eyes and laughed bitterly. “Once he knew such creatures were a reality, he instantly saw the potential. He’d read about golems - their mythical strength and obedience - and he knew that I was a rabbi. He knew I was well versed in mysticism and the kabala and he persuaded me to try.”

“He also supplied you with the necessary Hebrew grimoire,” said Quist, “The Key of Honorius.”

“Yes, it was rare and very expensive. How do you know the title?”

“I found the book at Geller’s flat and I have it in the car.” Quist gestured to the lounge. “I see the door has been wrenched from the safe where you kept it. I can only presume the creature did that last night?”

Hoffman nodded. “Geller has been using the golem to murder certain people, which he knows I’m totally against. I can’t get him to stop. He sent it in here last night to recover the book and also to...” He winced and shook his head.

“To get rid of us,” said Sara, angrily.

Quist nodded his understanding. “He needed you to create the golem, but I presume he now has no further use for you. You’re opposed to these murders, but you couldn’t speak to the authorities, or us, because of your involvement. You’re very much a loose cannon, however, and he knew you might ring the police anonymously. He didn’t know how much you’d told your granddaughter, so he obviously decided to get rid of her too.”

“I never thought he’d do that,” stammered Hoffman. “You’re right, of course. I couldn’t say anything because I was frightened I’d be implicated in the murders, but that doesn’t matter anymore. The police have to know about Geller and the golem, but I don’t know how I’ll convince them.”

“The police can’t help,” said Quist. “I believe I’ll have a much better chance of stopping this thing.”

“You?” Sara frowned. “How?”

“I’m working on it.” The detective smiled tautly. “I’ve seen this creature twice. Once at Beverley when it killed Stefan Schneider and very briefly as it fled from that Leeds cellar. Tell me about it.”

Hoffman nodded. “As I said, it’s basically an animated clay servant. The golem has no bodily hair or genitalia, but when clothed and in human form, it can pass for a young man. It can only transform into the true golem form between sunset and sunrise. When it does, it grows slightly and bulks out into hardened stone. The features change, the eyes turn red and the Kabbalistic symbols of life appear on its torso and glow.”

“Glowing tattoos?” Rex whistled. “Now those would really catch on. Can this thing be killed?”

“Not as such - it’s pretty much indestructible.”

“Marvellous,” sighed Watson.

“In golem form its strength is greatly augmented, but it’s much slower. It can’t run in that shape and only moves at a walking pace.” A tear rolled down Hoffman’s face. “But that hasn’t prevented it from killing. It wasn’t supposed to kill anyone; that was never the plan.”

“What was the plan?” demanded Watson, incredulous. “Why the hell did you want to make a clay monster?”

“It was never supposed to be a monster.” Hoffman let out a mirthless laugh. “It was just after those White Rose bastards attacked Sara. I wasn’t myself and I’d have done anything to get back at them.”

“Oh, Gramps.” Sara kissed his cheek. “I wish you hadn’t.”

“Believe me, I wish that too.” Hoffman held her hand. “Geller and I talked at length about golems one drunken evening. He knew I was telling the truth about my childhood encounter and he suggested creating one. The police weren’t going to do anything about the Schneider brothers or the men who attacked you, and we were just two old men. We had no means of exposing these people or damaging White Rose ourselves.”

“That was the intention?” asked Quist. “You’d use the golem to damage White Rose?”

Hoffman nodded. “I admit I wanted it to hurt the thugs who vandalised my shop and assaulted Sara, but I’d never dream of killing them. Churchill had his paid thugs and the idea was that, with a golem, we’d have a thug of our own that could wreck their headquarters and vehicles. The creature would have approached the White Rose personnel individually at night and terrified them into leaving the organisation. Night after night, we’d frighten off their followers, cost them money and bankrupt the party. The creature would also terrify the Taylors into confessing who they really were. Geller agreed with all this, but he was just using me. Right from the start he had other plans.”

“Why would you want to frighten tailors?” asked Rex, bemused.

“Taylors, not tailors,” said Quist, testily. “Two brothers living in Yorkshire under assumed names. Their real name was Schneider and they came here from Munich where they ran Aryan Truth, a white supremacist group.”

“I didn’t tell you everything,” said Hoffman. “Geller’s parents had a business in Munich and, because they were Jewish, the Schneiders wrecked the place one day. His mother was stabbed and his father chased them into the street where he was beaten to death. The brothers were arrested, but released on a lack of evidence. There were other pending allegations against them and things were becoming hot in Germany so, as you know, they changed identities and moved to England. Geller claimed he wanted to punish the Schneiders by bringing them to justice, but that was a lie. He hated them, as you can imagine, and his plan was always to kill them.”

“Both brothers are now dead,” said Watson.

“Yes, but he has no intention of stopping and Churchill will be next on his list.” Hoffman paused for a moment. “The problem is, this golem has a major flaw. When Sara went away on her Ibiza trip it seemed like fate had lent a hand. I had the house to myself, the book had just arrived, and Geller and I had the perfect chance to attempt the experiment. Unfortunately, with it being such a small time window, I didn’t read the Key of Honorius fully and my translation could have been better. The temple wasn’t prepared correctly and I rushed the rituals. I made minor mistakes and the creature is defective.”

“A defective golem?” Watson frowned, realising how stupid this sounded. “What do you mean?”

“In layman’s terms, it constantly requires boosts of ethereal life energy to remain intact and animate.”

“That’s layman’s terms?” said Rex. “Okay.”

“He means it needs to kill,” said Quist, quietly. “On this magical level, a human death will release the life energy it requires. But you have the occult knowledge and you know the rituals. If it can’t be killed, can you stop it using the Key of Honorius?”

“Yes, and I wanted to destroy our faulty prototype and create another, but Geller wouldn’t hear of it. This creature is constantly on the brink of decay, shedding dust and small fragments of clay. Eventually it would become dormant, break down fully and crumble to dry powdered clay, but Geller intends to keep feeding it with energy. As he says, once he’s finished with White Rose, there are many other white supremacists in Britain. He looks upon it as a crusade.”

“I see,” murmured Quist.

“There’s a further problem.” Hoffman cringed. “During the Kabbala ritual of life, mystical incantations and symbols are written on a tiny scroll, about two inches in length, which is tightly rolled up and placed in the golem’s mouth. I trusted Geller and stupidly allowed him to insert the scroll, which gave him total control. It only listens to him.”

“Ah.” Watson nodded. “Probably not the brightest move.”

“Geller insisted,” explained Hoffman. “I couldn’t have the golem here because of Sara. Geller lives alone so it made sense that he should keep it hidden in his apartment, but he needed to be able to order it around.”

“There must be some way to stop it,” said Sara.

“There is,” said Hoffman. “I’ve been reading the Key of Honorius ever since the creation. I now know the correct incantation to release it from Geller’s control. Then all we would need to do is retrieve the scroll from its mouth and it should transform back into clay. Geller is aware that I can do this and that’s why he took the book last night.”

“And also why he attempted to er, dissolve your partnership,” said Quist. “Well, the book is now safely in my possession. Could I read out this incantation?”

“I’m afraid not.” Hoffman shook his head. “You don’t know the correct pronunciation and inflection. I need to read it, so I have to be there when you find the golem and hopefully the ritual will work.”

“Not a chance,” said Sara. “I don’t want you going anywhere near that thing.”

“Bloody good advice,” said Watson. “I don’t want to go anywhere near it either.”

“I don’t like it,” admitted Hoffman. “But this is my responsibility. It’s all my fault and I have to do this.”

“If we can find this Geller guy, we’ll find Gollum,” said Rex. “He isn’t at home right now, so any idea where he might be heading?”

“He’s going after Churchill,” said Hoffman. “He intended to kill him before, but now he’s aware that Churchill is Stefan Schneider’s son Kurt, I know he’ll be his main target.”

“You told him?” said Quist, amazed.

“Actually you told him,” said Hoffman. “He was here when you rang last night and he overheard. The White Rose Party had a meeting this morning in Thirsk and then they’re heading to Whitby. If I’m right, he’ll choose the later venue in the Whitby Pavilion to attack Churchill as he needs it to be after sunset.”

“Whitby? Tonight?” Watson cringed. “It’s Halloween.”

Rex grinned. “Surely you’re not scared?”

“Have you visited the place on Halloween?” Watson pulled a sarcastic face. “The entire town is full of Goths, vampires and ghosts.”

“Interesting,” said Quist, thoughtfully. “That could work in our favour.”

The teenager glanced at him. Cyrano was right. If he needed to change into the big bad wolf, he probably wouldn’t stand out quite so much amongst all the vampire and werewolf costumes. Probably.

“I really don’t like this,” said Sara, her mouth dry. She cleared her throat, still confused as to why she felt sexually aroused. “But when are we setting off?”

“We?” Quist smiled. “No, young lady, I’m afraid you won’t be accompanying us.”

“Typical sexism,” she snorted. “You think I won’t be able to handle such things? I’ve already been chased by this thing and...”

“Actually this has nothing to do with chauvinism,” said Quist. “Five people won’t fit into my small car.”

Watson ran a nervous hand through his hair. He considered offering to stay with Sara, but knew she’d then take his seat to be with her grandfather and he didn’t want her in danger. Hunting for a lethal clay monster on Halloween was pretty much the last thing he wanted to do, but he couldn’t back out and show Sara how frightened he was.

“Sara could sit on my lap,” suggested Rex, winking at the girl. “It’s a good thing we aren’t using my car. I drive a McLaren MP4 supercar and there are only two seats in those beauties.”

Sara stared for a moment, the weird arousal triggered by the lupine pheromones actually causing her to consider this. “Just bring my grandad back safely,” she snapped, irately.

“No problem.” Rex grinned. “As a treat, I’ll take you for a spin when this is over.”

“Well, I’m not exactly over the moon about doing this,” said Watson, checking his watch. “But if we set off now, we’ll get to Whitby before sunset.”

“We have a brief call to make on the way,” said Quist, rising from his chair. “You’re probably correct about Geller heading for the Whitby Pavilion, but I believe there’s another way to locate him.”