Even though Cutler was very slight in build and his captor big and muscular, the man carrying him was panting by the time they’d gone the short distance along the street to the electrical substation.
I’m out of condition, he thought in disgust, getting slack. Have to pull my socks up.
His companion said nothing, just walked along beside him wearing the permanent scowl that was getting on his nerves. From time to time a quick glance would be thrown in his direction from a face showing pale against the darkness. But the scowl never lightened.
‘Get the bloody door open, then,’ he growled as they reached the entrance. He dumped Cutler on the ground in the outer room of the electrical substation and kicked him in annoyance.
Bending down he said slowly and clearly, ‘If you ever mention what’s happened tonight to anyone or attempt to identify us, I’ll come back and kill you, if it’s the last thing I ever do. I know who you are and if you become famous, I shall expect to take my share … in return for sparing your life tonight.’
He watched with satisfaction as the bound man cringed away as far as he could, then he glanced towards his accomplice, who was still fiddling with the door. ‘Nod if you understand what I just told you.’
The bound figure nodded vigorously just as the heavy door swung open.
The man picked Cutler up and carried him inside, amused by his terrified reaction. As if he’d ever bother to chase after anyone like this wimp! Revenge didn’t pay well and it was money he liked most in the world. People let you down; money sat in the bank ready to serve you when and where you pleased.
Once again he dumped Cutler on the ground with more force than was necessary. ‘We’ll leave him there for the time being.’
‘What if he gets away?’
‘Do you think he’s suddenly going to turn into Harry Houdini? He won’t get out of those ropes, believe me. I know what I’m doing.’ Good thing he’d brought them, too. It had been a last-minute precaution based on this contractor’s ignorance about breaking and entering, plus worries that they might run into some nosey parker – which they had done.
With a nudge he added, ‘But if you’re keen to take him along, you’re welcome to carry him yourself.’
‘I couldn’t manage it.’
‘Then shut up and leave me to handle that side of things. Got your camera?’
‘Yes, of course. It’s the whole point of this exercise.’
‘Well, it’s doing no good in your pocket. Get it out and ready. And remember, do not film my face, because if you do, I’ll come back and make you sorry as well as him.’
‘I’m not stupid.’
‘I think this whole venture is stupid, but you’re paying me well, so I’ll go along with it. Now, lock this outside door.’
‘It’s not supposed to be locked when people are working inside.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Give me strength! You’re worried about occ. health and safety rules when we’re breaking and entering? You are crazy.’
There was silence for a moment, then he said thoughtfully, ‘Probably better to leave that door unlocked, though. No one will be able to see whether it’s locked or unlocked, and I doubt anyone will try it. If we have to make a run for it, we can get out of here more quickly and no one’s likely to be exploring in the middle of the night. But remember, if we do have to escape quickly, you’ll be on your own. I’m not your babysitter. Now, give me the keys so that you can get on with the filming.’
‘It’s this one that opens the inner door and that one for the metal grille.’
He took the small bunch of keys, holding it by the one he needed to use first, checking that his balaclava was in place and his back mostly to the camera, then switching on a powerful torch to light what he was doing.
He waited but nothing happened. ‘Start the damned filming.’
‘It’s going.’
The inner door was stiff and it took him a minute or two to open it. ‘Needs oiling,’ he commented and ran lightly down the curved metal staircase to the grille.
At the bottom he waited till the camera was again at the ready, then walked along the corridor to the grille and opened that, propping it open for convenience in case they had to escape by scraping up a pile of earth from the tunnel floor with the heel of his heavy boot. This was too easy. Money for old rope.
He waited again. ‘Still filming?’
‘Yes.’
‘You were right about one thing: this is a pitiful attempt at security.’
‘I know. I’ll find that very helpful when I use this material to get what I want. OK. I’ll stop filming now till we get somewhere significant.’
It took some time for his companion to fiddle with the controls before a nod told him the camera was switched off. Amateurs! Didn’t even have the wit to practise beforehand.
He began tramping along the underground tunnel, letting his companion go first and light the way. He wished he were out in the open air. These damned tunnels gave him the shivers.
It felt as if someone was right behind him, but when he glanced over his shoulder there was no sign of anyone else. Had he heard something? He listened carefully. No, no sound. Probably just his imagination.
They didn’t have a long way to go, he’d been told, but it felt a long way to him.
Angus listened carefully but heard nothing moving inside, so crept into the substation, surprised that the intruders had left the outer door open. He fell over something soft, no someone soft, and flashed his torch down. Cutler. It would be.
Oh, hell, he couldn’t leave the fellow lying here. He got out his penknife and began slicing at the ropes. It was surprising how often this little knife came in useful.
The minute his hand was free, Cutler tugged at the gag, but Angus grabbed his hand and said in a low voice, ‘If you make one sound, I’ll gag and bind you again.’
Cutler stiffened and seemed to be trying to see who it was.
‘It’s me. Angus.’
Cutler kept silent as Angus finished cutting the bonds and yanked him to his feet.
He whimpered then, as if something hurt.
‘Shh! Do you want them to hear you?’ He gave Cutler a shove. ‘Get going while you can – and quietly. Knock on the door of the nearest house and ask the people there to call the police. Hurry!’
Cutler stumbled out of the substation and of course the fool moved noisily.
Grunting in annoyance, Angus turned to study the gaping inner doorway. Should he follow them or not? Releasing Cutler had delayed him. The prowlers might be on their way back by now.
He shrugged. He had to risk that, because he needed to see what they were doing. Besides, they’d find it hard to gang up on him in a narrow tunnel. Hard to move silently in the darkness, though. He’d have warning of their approach, hear something. Wouldn’t he?
He set off down the metal stairs, moving silently in the increasing darkness. At the bottom he risked using his torch and moved along. When he reached the grille he used the torch again, whistling softly in surprise when he saw that the grille had been propped open. A quick examination showed the lock to be undamaged.
So, they must have had a key. How had they got hold of that? Even he, owner of the other end of the tunnels, hadn’t been able to obtain a key to this grille from the council, thanks to that busybody Brody.
When the two intruders stopped, the man waited while his companion checked the door that led into Number 1.
There was a gasp and then, ‘It’s unlocked. Does that mean they’ve come into the tunnels?’
‘Shh. Let’s see if we can hear anything.’ He listened for a few moments and shook his head. But at that point he almost turned and left via the tunnel. Only his pride at always completing the job he’d been paid for kept him standing there, because he was beginning to feel more than uneasy. He usually paid attention to that kind of feeling.
The trouble was, if he had heard someone following them, he’d be better leaving through the house than the tunnels, assuming there was no one waiting for them there. Oh hell, why had he got himself into this idiotic situation? ‘Can you lock the door to the tunnel behind us?’
‘I don’t have a key to it.’
There it was again. Amateurs! Never prepared properly. ‘Hurry, then, damn you.’
They went up into the secret room he’d been told about. He wasn’t impressed by the old rubbish lying around and was tempted to relieve his feelings by sweeping it off the desks, he was so on edge now.
Why did people bother to save such stuff, anyway? If there was ever another war, it’d not be won by ancient communication methods like these.
He turned to see her still using the camera. ‘How the hell long are you going to be? I’ve had enough. Open the door and let us out through the house.’
‘I don’t know where the secret door is from inside this room.’
He breathed in deeply, then stiffened. Had he heard a sound?
He held one finger to his lips.
They both stood very still.
He could hear nothing, so took a careful look round the room. He was good at figuring layouts and opening locks. There seemed only one place possible for a door and he shone his torch round that area saying, ‘Ahhh!’ very softly as he found this assumption to be correct. The door hadn’t been locked from this side at all.
Within a couple of minutes he had it open, easily working out the simple procedure, which he’d guess hadn’t been designed to conceal the way the door opened, but to prevent it being opened accidentally.
When his companion moved forward, he grabbed her jacket and hauled the idiot backwards, moving to go first. He wasn’t having anything blocking his way forward now. If this was the way out, he was legging it as soon as he could.
This was turning into a farce and he’d had enough. After all, he’d been paid most of the money. His freedom was more important than getting the final payment at the end of the job.
He found himself in a big empty room, shone his torch round and saw some bare shelves to one side. That was all. Nothing to steal here.
He turned towards the stairs and began to go down them slowly.
Of course, the idiot following him had to stumble and gasp and the noise echoed round the empty room.
The man froze again, putting one arm out to stop the idiot continuing.
Angus followed the intruders along the passage, risking using his torch to check the way a couple of times. He switched off the torch and continued to fumble his way along the tunnel. There were no turnings, after all. But he stumbled on some uneven ground at one stage and made a faint noise as he steadied himself against the corrugated iron wall. Once again he froze, afraid that they might have heard the slight sound he’d made.
He debated for a few moments whether to continue, realising that he couldn’t make out exactly what lay ahead of him in the darkness, had no idea how far along they were and didn’t want to risk using his torch.
Worst of all, he didn’t know how many intruders he might have to face. He was still angry about all this, but not to the extent of risking his life. With great reluctance he decided to go back and consult Iain. Better if there were two of them to face whoever had broken in.
Emil would surely have the sense to stay inside the flat.
And by now Cutler must have found someone to call the police to their aid?
You could never guarantee that people would do the sensible thing, though. That thought made him turn and hurry back towards the substation.
Emil heard a sound from the gallery at the front of the ground floor, stood up and tiptoed to the door of the flat. Another faint sound, undoubtedly a footstep, proved that there was definitely someone there.
He’d hoped it was Angus, could see the outline of someone staring towards him and realised it was definitely not his friend. This man was much burlier.
Hastily, Emil moved backwards into the flat and tried to lock the door. But in his haste, he fumbled and that gave the intruder time to hurtle across the dark echoing space and jam a foot in the opening.
The man must have been strong, because Emil was no weakling. But even had he expected such a vicious attack, he’d have been no match for this brute.
With a roar of anger, the man kicked and punched him, sending him hurtling across the living room of the flat. From somewhere in the gallery a woman screamed. Then, as his opponent smashed a chair down on him, Emil heard another scream from closer at hand and a plea to stop.
He struggled to roll away but the room seemed to waver round him and pain exploded in his side, sending him spinning into darkness.
Nell and Ginger heard the screams from just outside the street, where they were still keeping watch, and instinctively started running towards the first house in Saffron Lane. Someone sounded to be in trouble.
Another scream rang out.
Make that big trouble.
The door was open and they could see a figure standing just inside the gallery. It could have been either a man or a woman, but the screams had come from there and had sounded more like those of a woman.
They were close enough to see a big man appear in the doorway of the flat. Ginger dragged Nell out of sight to one side as he ran across the gallery towards the outer door.
He sent the person who’d screamed tumbling backwards like a human skittle when she tried to bar his way.
As the man ran away down Saffron Lane, the woman struggled to her feet, sobbing.
‘The two of us can cope with one woman,’ Ginger said grimly. ‘Lock that outer door once we’re in, so he can’t return.’
As Nell used the catch to do this, the woman saw them, shrieked and ran towards the stairs.
Ginger pounded after her, catching hold of her leg before she’d got halfway up them and keeping hold in spite of being kicked. The woman’s struggles made them both roll down the last few stairs again, by which time Nell was waiting at the bottom to help hold the stranger.
From the distance came the welcome sound of a police siren and they could hear someone running down the street towards them.
‘Open the door!’ the person yelled. ‘It’s me.’
‘That’s Abbie. What’s she doing here?’
They dragged their prisoner to the door and let Abbie in.
‘I was worried about Emil,’ she gasped. ‘Where is he?’
Nell shouted, ‘Leave this one to us and check inside the flat. I think Emil’s been hurt.’
Abbie was off across the room at once.
Turning back, Nell yanked away the balaclava from the woman, who was still struggling violently to get away from them. ‘It’s Charlene Brody from the council!’
‘I don’t care who it is,’ Ginger panted. ‘She just bit me. If she does it again, I’ll slap her face good and hard.’
Nell managed to grasp one flailing arm and twist it behind Charlene’s back. She’d seen that done on TV in police shows, and was surprised when it worked. Charlene yelled in pain and stopped struggling. But she continued to sob.
‘What do we do with her?’ Ginger panted. ‘I daren’t leave you on your own with her or I’d go and fetch something to tie her up with from my flat.’
‘We’ll have to wait till the police arrive.’
They heard a groan from the flat.
‘It sounds as if Emil’s been hurt,’ Nell worried. ‘Who was that brute? Hey, you! What was he looking for?’
Their captive erupted into hysterics at that, weeping and yelling incoherently. Nell still kept tight hold of the arm. She wasn’t letting the woman get away.
Charlene Brody might work for the council but that didn’t give her the right to be breaking into people’s houses in the middle of the night. And the guy who’d presumably attacked Emil must have come with her. How had they got in?
She’d have to trust Abbie to cope with Emil, could only hope he’d be all right.
Iain and Angus saw the running figure before he saw them. A police car came into view and when he tried to change direction to avoid it, that gave them the opportunity to grab him.
The car screeched to a halt beside them and a voice ordered them to stop fighting.
Relieved, they obeyed orders but when they did, their captive rolled to one side and tried to run away. He only got a few yards before a police officer tackled him.
Shrill screams could be heard faintly in the distance.
‘I think there’s another intruder in Number 1,’ Angus said. ‘Can we go and help, Officer?’
‘No, sir. I don’t want you getting injured. And you might just run away like he tried to do.’
‘I shan’t run away. I’m the owner of Dennings.’
‘Ah. So you say.’
‘There’s a man recovering from a serious operation in Number 1. We have to check that he’s all right.’
‘It sounded like a woman screaming, not a man.’
‘Sorry. I’m going to find out.’ Angus took off, afraid Nell might have gone against his wishes and got involved. He found one of the police officers running beside him.
‘Go back,’ yelled the officer.
‘Not if someone’s hurting my wife.’
Fear for Nell seemed to add speed to Angus’s feet and he took the lead.
When Abbie ran into the flat, she found Emil lying on the floor, groaning and clutching his side. She didn’t wait to ask what was wrong, could see that he was in severe pain, so pulled out her phone and rang for an emergency ambulance. Then she knelt beside him, all the time keeping an eye on the door in case another intruder came in.
‘What can I do to help you, Emil?’
‘Nothing. He hit old wound. Going to be sick. Pain bad.’
She managed to hold him in a position to vomit on the floor, then pulled him gently to one side and dived towards the kitchen sink to moisten some sheets of kitchen roll and bring them back to help him wipe his mouth.
After that she could only hold him in her arms till a police officer walked in and knelt beside them.
Emil explained in halting phrases that he’d been hit in a place where he had a weakness from a recent major operation.
And all the time Abbie cradled him against her, willing him to be all right, praying that the damage wasn’t serious.