Tiberius Elroy And The Eternal Death: A Spooky Thriller

By John Devlin

Tiberius Elroy And The Eternal Death: A Spooky Thriller

by John Devlin

 

The size of this book is equivalent to 236 paperback pages.

 

The dead Björn Renner was murdered in the Ewig correctional facility. Dr. Böttcher is convinced of this. But the circumstances are more than strange, and so the forensic pathologist begins to investigate on his own, unexpectedly getting help from the Order of the Holy Light. But apparently a lot of people are under the influence of Arthur Tanner, or King Arthur, who also likes to be called "Master". To Dr. Cooper's own surprise, he is able to shield himself from the evil spiritual influence. But will that be enough to overcome the black magician?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BEKKERpublishing
• Release date: Mar 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215440179

Book preview

Tiberius Elroy And The Eternal Death: A Spooky Thriller

by John Devlin

The size of this book is equivalent to 236 paperback pages.

The dead Björn Renner was murdered in the Ewig correctional facility. Dr. Böttcher is convinced of this. But the circumstances are more than strange, and so the forensic pathologist begins to investigate on his own, unexpectedly getting help from the Order of the Holy Light. But apparently a lot of people are under the influence of Arthur Tanner, or King Arthur, who also likes to be called Master. To Dr. Cooper's own surprise, he is able to shield himself from the evil spiritual influence. But will that be enough to overcome the black magician?

Copyright

A CassiopeiaPress book: CASSIOPEIAPRESS, UKSAK E-Books and BEKKERpublishing are imprints of Alfred Bekker

© by Author

John Devlin is a pseudonym of Alfred Bekker

COVER A.PANADERO

© of this issue 2023 by AlfredBekker/CassiopeiaPress, Lengerich/Westphalia

All rights reserved.

www.AlfredBekker.com

[e-mail]

––––––––

Note: The conditions in the Ewig correctional facility in Attendorn depicted in this novel in no way correspond to reality. The author was inspired solely by the external setting and the evocative name of this penal institution.

PROLOGUE

New York, Central Park

Two floors below the famous dancing and dining restaurant TAVERN-ON-GREEN was the headquarters of the Orders of the Holy and White Light offices. Laboratories, radio control center and the computers of this secret international unit in the fight against the forces of the supernatural were housed here.

Tiberius Elroy, an agent of the Order of the Holy and White Light with the code CODE-3, had just had a drink at the bar of TAVERN-ON-THE-GREEN. Now he was looking out through one of the windows. It was a peaceful, sunny afternoon in Central Park, which was always busy in this weather.

Elroy set down his glass, paid, and then went to the secret door through which one could enter the headquarters of the Order of the Holy and White Light.

The fingerprint of an authorized agent served as the key.

With the tip of his index finger, Tiberius Elroy touched a sensor field.

The door automatically slid to the side.

Tiberius Elroy entered an elevator cabin, which could be used to go down. Into the depths! as was often jokingly joked among agents of the Order of the Holy and White Light. The depths of hell ...

In truth, of course, this was the home of those who took care that the earth did not become a victim of supernatural invasions.

Whenever suspicious activities appeared somewhere, the Order of the Holy and White Light became active.

Tiberius Elroy let the elevator car take him downward. A short time later, the cabin door opened in front of him, and he reached the headquarters of the Order of the Holy and White Light, usually just called OHW or the Order in common parlance, via a long, narrow corridor. Its heart, if you will. Smart Alexandra or Sweet Jennifer, the extraordinarily powerful computer systems of the Order of the Holy and White Light were often called almost affectionately by the staff.

And indeed, they also played a very special role in the desperate defensive struggle waged by the Order of the Holy and White Light against supernatural threats of all kinds. Suspicious signals were recorded all over the world. Parasignals from which conclusions could be drawn.

Dozens of employees sat at consoles and terminals and were in constant contact with the whole world via the most modern communication technology. The Order of the Holy and White Light had its warrant officers and agents everywhere, who reliably provided the organization with relevant information.

Tiberius Elroy walked down the alley that had been left between the tables, some of which were completely cluttered with technical equipment.

Something had the OHW staff in a tizzy.

For Tiberius Elroy, it was palpable, so intense was this sensation. Something must have happened! was immediately clear to him.

Klaus Niedecken, a young German, approached him and greeted him with a brief nod of his head.

Niedecken was an agent of the Order of the Holy and White Light. So was Tiberius Elroy himself.

Magical activities forever! he said.

Excuse me? responded Elroy, irritated.

A penal institution in Germany, that's what it's called, the German instructed him curtly. I had the estate watched a few weeks ago - just since the emanations have been clear. But yesterday something happened there that finally awakened the negative forces. The measurement results are clear. On the other hand: it is ... strange. Nobody can explain the phenomenon properly. Not even Smart Alexandra - and that's saying something.

Indeed, Elroy muttered involuntarily. But he was a man of action and no friend of fruitless deliberation. How about taking a close look at all this ourselves?

So, departure? A fleeting grin crossed Niedecken's face.

Yes, both of us! I don't see what would be wrong with that. Especially since you're indispensable on site, since you're the only one who knows his way around.

Well, knowledgeable would be an exaggeration, because I've never sat there, if that's what you mean.

Strangely, Elroy didn't laugh at the joke at all. He only pursed his lips thoughtfully.

Niedecken had the unpleasant feeling that Tiberius Elroy already had something like a plan. Somehow, though, he couldn't shake the feeling that it would be particularly unpleasant for him, Klaus Niedecken.

*

Attendorn at the Biggesee, district Ewig

Ewig, that was the promising name of this correctional facility in Attendorn, Sauerland. Ewig - a name that sounded anything but optimistic with regard to the fate of the inmates. But the name JVA Ewig had nothing to do with that. No cynic had had a hand in this, even if one could believe that at first glance. The name was simply derived from the former Ewig monastery estate, in whose castle-like walls the correctional facility had been set up.

Anyone who thought that was a bad idea was in for a surprise.

Björn Renner sat in his cell and shivered slightly. It was not the cold of the former monastery walls and the clammy, Sauerland rainy weather that made him shiver so much. It was pure fear. Mortal fear.

There is no way out for you!, he realized. A bitter realization. But there was no point in denying the truth. At some point, this octopus with which you have become involved will stretch out its arms to you, and one of them will be long enough to wrap itself around your neck.

He swallowed.

His face turned chalk white.

You don't have a chance anymore!, it went through his head. Actually, you are already as good as dead!

A noise made Björn Renner wince.

He listened attentively.

One of the cell doors separating this wing from the rest of the prison was unlocked.

Then footsteps could be heard.

Food distribution! someone shouted, and Renner heard the cart with the trays being pushed ahead and stopping briefly at each cell. After the food was served, a guard would come and close the cells for the night. It was the same every day.

You should have decided to talk right away. Not just now. In the meantime, many will not believe you. It was a mistake to trust in the word of Arthur Tanner, to take all the blame and trust that King Arthur - King Arthur as he likes to call himself - will not forget you and your family. He is anything but noble. Not like his great namesake from the Arthurian saga, not at all! On the contrary, he is the devil personified, which is why his direct henchmen call him not King Arthur or King Arthur, but ... MASTER!

Renner sat shivering in a corner of his cell. It had been a long struggle to be transferred here, to Gut Ewig, but he had finally made it. Here, at least, he was reasonably safe. He was one hundred percent sure that a former monastery was a sacred place. Here the possibilities were limited by the master. He could no longer deal with him with his terrible magic. And as far as other - more worldly - possibilities were concerned: So-called heavy boys were usually not here, because quite contrary to the depressing name this prison bore, it was a correctional facility for adult male prisoners for the first execution on negligence offenders, as it was so nicely called in official German. Many of them were in open custody.

But the cramped conditions in the penal institutions of the state of North Rhine-Westphalia made it necessary to accommodate other prisoners here as well.

Prisoners who actually did not belong here, because they represented exactly the criminal offender type that one did not want to have here, if only to avoid the bad influence on the fellow prisoners.

Renner, on the other hand, was a first-time offender.

However, his sentence of six years was considerably higher than that of the majority of his fellow inmates.

And you haven't even committed an assault yet, Renner thought bitterly. The judge had wanted to make an example. Embezzlement, tax evasion, investment fraud, fraudulent bankruptcy, laundering of black money - it had all added up. The court had found considerable criminal energy.

And the lawyers that King Arthur had provided him with had obviously advised him completely wrongly. Or was there even intent behind it, in order to distract from the actual perpetrator once and for all?

Anyway, now he was up to his neck in mud.

His fear was taken so seriously, after all, that he had been given a solitary cell in which he lived quite isolated from the other prisoners.

Renner rose and paced a bit, like a wild animal that had been locked in a cage. Three days left until his hearing before the district court.

Three days to go.

Then he had made his statement, and it would be of no use to anyone to kill him.

This time will still seem damn long to you!, it went through him however by the head. If you survive it at all ...

Don't be a nutcase," he tried to reassure himself. It doesn't get any more secluded than this barred Sauerland monastery estate. The arms of this octopus will not reach this far. Certainly not ... Everything will be all right! And when he uses his terrible magic, the sanctity of the former monastery walls will protect me. Even the transformation into a penitentiary has not changed this sanctity. Yes, certainly not: how could it?

He clenched his hands into fists.

He had once seen a so-called motivational trainer on television who instilled courage in managers by having them clench their fists and shout Chaka, you can do it!

Renner had not been particularly impressed, but since he was not a believer-apart from things he had seen with his own eyes or experienced himself, such as the horrible possibilities from the King-it seemed less absurd than a prayer.

And so he said it to himself like a magical staying power formula: You can do it!

He still had to hold out for these three days. Renner knew only too well that under these circumstances three days could be an eternity.

The prison doctor had given him sedative tablets. Renner took one of them and swallowed it with some water while he heard the food truck approaching.

The tablets had virtually no effect. Renner wondered why he was still taking them at all. His pulse was beating up to his neck. Cold sweat stood on his forehead.

The fact that nothing had happened to him before his transfer to the Ewig estate bordered on a miracle.

Three days!

Then everything would be decided - one way or the other.

Renner paced up and down again. He just couldn't bring himself to sit still. He had to move, to do something. It was bad enough to be locked in a cell so powerless.

The food truck was approaching.

Renner heard the trays being passed into the cells through the openings provided for them. He heard the obligatory grumbling about the menu. He heard every sound and already knew it by heart.

It was the same every day.

And then the car was in front of his cell. Two men were by the cart. One opened the barred door, the other carried the tray. It was unusual for them to come in. Did they even want to? They stopped, beyond the doorway. Why had they opened it at all?

Renner immediately had the feeling that something was wrong. He backed away.

The taller of the two guys grinned crookedly.

Dinner, Renner. Today we have a specialty of the house! White sausage with sauerkraut! Because we're having Bavarian Week at the moment, you ass.

For you, however, exceptionally frozen! said the other.

His eyes glittered strangely.

Demonic.

No! whispered Renner, startled, backing away from the two.

CHAPTER ONE

Dr. Böttcher whirled around, looked one of the students present directly in the eye, and jerkily raised his right arm. With his index finger, he made a cut through the air as if with a scalpel.

The good, dark blue jacket pinched him in the crook of the arm. He didn't particularly like wearing it, if only because every stain on it was immediately visible.

But if a simple forensic pathologist like Böttcher was invited to the hallowed, albeit dilapidated, halls of the University of Cologne - not the University of Cologne or simply the University of Cologne - to give a guest lecture, then he could, after all, dress up a bit and make this sacrifice.

Perhaps the most important thing, Böttcher said, raising his index finger again to indicate that it really was the most important thing that was coming now, ... that we should remember from today's discussion is that the corpse is still a human organism! And if you treat it with care and respect, it can tell you a great many things. He speaks to us in his own voice, if you know what I mean. We just have to listen to him.

Since when does he believe in zombies? someone in the second-back row quipped.

Dr. Böttcher had many peculiarities, some of which were said to be rather eccentric, but hearing loss was not one of them at all: his chin thrust forward aggressively. He seemed to want to pierce the mocker with his eyes.

Believing means: not knowing!, he orated in an unusually soft voice, which really made everyone in the lecture hall pay special attention. That sounded much more dangerous, as if he had now badly beaten up the student.

The young man ducked as if under the heaviest blows and wanted to avoid the piercing gaze, but he simply could not.

So if I know zombies personally, I don't need to believe in them anymore. If you want to know for sure: No, I don't believe in zombies, not at all in the undead.

Finally, he released the poor man from his piercing gaze. Now his eyes seemed completely normal again, and otherwise he seemed to have forgotten the incident.

Böttcher nevertheless did not stay behind his lectern. With one hand buried in his pocket and the other gesticulating frantically, he approached his audience, only to return to the lectern a moment later.

That was just the way he was.

It rarely kept him in one and the same place for long. But his thyroid values were fine, even if outward appearances suggested otherwise.

And during this rather hectic commute, he rolled his alert canine eyes back and forth restlessly, giving the impression that there was nothing in the room that could go unnoticed by him.

But you must try to hear with your eyes! he continued. And with your sense of touch! For the umpteenth time, Böttcher made his return to the lectern. Dissection is a tool, he explained with his back to his audience. And as he uttered the word dissecting, his extended index finger again whistled through the air in a flash. Dissection is a tool like histology, microbiology, pathology .... All tools to understand what the body is trying to tell us. Meanwhile, Böttcher had moved back behind the lectern.

He kept his hands folded.

However, this was hardly reminiscent of any kind of prayer posture. Rather, one could assume that Böttcher thus forcibly prevented his restless hands from waving around. And most important of all, we must listen and understand what this dead body is telling us - not as a zombie, but with the language you are here to learn to understand. Above all, we should never hesitate to act on what it tells us, too! - Thank you.

Böttcher paused for a moment, then his gaze went to the side. Dr. Schmitt-Wedekind ...

A smooth-faced man who looked quite elegant in his light gray suit approached Böttcher and replied, Thank you, Dr. Böttcher.

Applause arose among the students, and Böttcher's face showed an embarrassed smile.

He could put up with the scolding of his superiors like nothing, but