He was as good as his word. He was on the phone to me just after nine the following morning, to confirm he had made contact with Dr Sutcliffe, the consultant in charge of my case. His assessment was that, providing the helicopter stayed below a ceiling of about 2,000 feet, then I shouldn’t be affected by the height. Jim did add, of course, that Dr Sutcliffe had insisted it also depended on how I felt, and if my head had cleared, so I was prompted to tell Jim one of my little white lies and assure him that I was fine and ready again for work. He seemed satisfied with that, and suggested that Connie and I meet him at Birmingham Airport in about an hour; he was already there having discussions with forensics.
I breathed a sigh of relief, and then went off to let Connie know the arrangements. She was quite excited and hardly stopped talking on the way to the airport. She couldn’t remember ever having flown before, much less in a helicopter.
We took off almost immediately and headed north towards the Wolverhampton area; we had decided to work outwards, starting with those old mines that were the closest, and then, if we had no luck, finishing up with the Derbyshire pit. Peter Conway had joined the group, leaving Frank Kewell and Peter Corkhill to liaise with the forensics team.
It turned out to be a very frustrating and disappointing day. The pilot, a flight sergeant with the police flying corps, had already pre-programmed his headings before departure. It was a bumpy flight and much too noisy to talk, but I was grateful when Peter poured me a coffee from the flask he had brought. My head was starting to give me hell, and it was more than my life was worth to say anything. We must have been flying for about 25 minutes, during which time we circled a couple of sites, before the sergeant pointed downwards, towards a group of buildings. It didn’t mean anything to me, except that when we approached the ground I could clearly make out it was, indeed, an old coalmine. Whether it was the one we were seeking remained to be seen.
We touched down gently on what appeared to be wasteland, bringing up thick clouds of dust that instantly covered the windows, temporarily obscuring our vision. The flight sergeant made us wait until the blades were switched off and the dust had settled before opening the doors and allowing us to alight.
Jim stretched his arms, glad to be out of what he called a ‘flying coffin’. He looked around him, studying the landscape, as if he were searching for something familiar.
“Recognise any of this?” he said to Connie.
She shook her head in disappointment. “It doesn’t mean anything to me. It looked kinda different from the air, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t what we’re looking for.”
So off we went again. At the end of the day we had either flown over or landed at six of the 11 sites Connie had pre-selected as matching her vision; but no luck. Jim was on the point of calling a halt when Connie said, “Do you think we could have another look at that site in Derbyshire?”
“Which one?” Jim said, somewhat irritably.
“The third one we visited.”
“Right. And then we call it a day – okay?”
We all agreed as the pilot once more turned his heading towards the northeast. Fifteen minutes later the pilot began his descent towards the same spot we had landed at the first time.
“Any luck?” Jim asked after the rotors had come to a halt.
Connie was shaking her head. “I was pretty sure about this site,” she said, “but it’s not right; I mean, there’s something missing.”
“How do you, mean, Connie?” I asked her.
“I don’t know. I think it’s the wrong way round.”
What she meant by that I couldn’t imagine. The wrong way round? How could a place be the wrong way round? Just when I started to believe we were on a wild goose chase, Peter said, addressing the pilot, “Sergeant, can you land on the other side of the site?”
“I don’t see why not, sir. It looks pretty flat from here. Do you want me to fly over it, for a look?”
“Yeah. Try it, will you? If it seems okay, come back for us.”
We stood well back from the helicopter as the pilot started up the engines again, and the dust cloud immediately enveloped it. He lifted off slowly and cruised over to the far side of the site.
“What’s the idea, Peter?”
“I don’t really know, to be honest. Connie gave me an idea when she said it was the wrong way round. We could be looking at the site from the wrong angle. It’s worth checking while we’re here.” Then he shrugged. “It would help, though, if someone briefed me on what it is we’re looking for here. I don’t understand why it should be such a bloody mystery.”
“All in good time, Sergeant,” Jim said.
We watched the helicopter hover over the ground on the far side, make a couple of tight turns and then head back towards us.
Again, he waited for the dust to settle before opening the doors and waving us across. We climbed in, as the pilot said: “No problem. If anything, it’s easier; there isn’t as much dust over there.”
“What about access? Any roads?”
“Yeah. There’s an old entrance road, but it’s chained off. Looks as if it hasn’t been used for years.”
“Right. Let’s go,” Jim said.
In less than a minute we had crossed over the dilapidated buildings of the old mine and were settling onto a level piece of ground, just beyond some thickish woods.
“How does this feel, Connie?” Jim asked.
She was grinning now. “Totally different. I think this could be it. Look!” She pointed excitedly towards what appeared to be some kind of hut at the side of one of the buildings. “There’s the lift shaft I was talking about.”
I felt myself go cold all over. “Dear God, please let her be wrong,” I thought, knowing instinctively that she wasn’t. It was obvious from her demeanour that in some manner she had been here before. She was about to set off towards the shaft when Jim pulled her back by the arm.
“No, Connie, “he insisted; “this is as far as you go.”
“What are you talking about? I have to go – I have to be sure.”
“The only way we’re going to be sure you’re right is by actually descending to the bottom of that shaft. It could be up to a mile deep, and you can be damned sure the lift won’t be working. So, how do you think we’re going to get down there?”
Connie hesitated, unsure how to react. “I... I don’t know. I guess I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Well, I can tell you. We’ll need to organise the air rescue services, and the mountain rescue experts, if we’re to have any chance of searching that shaft. Connie, we’re talking about a hell of a lot of resources here; it’s not going to be easy and it’s certainly not going to be quick. Can you understand that?”
“I guess. But why can’t I stay anyway?”
He sighed – the patience of a saint, I thought – then he placed his hands on her shoulders.
“Because I don’t want you around when we find what I believe we will find in that hell-hole. We’re not just talking about Josephine here – you do realise that, don’t you? God knows how many children he’s dumped in that shaft. And it’s not an experience I want to share with civilians. Now, sweetheart, please; don’t argue with me. I want you back in the helicopter and out of here before I get things organised. Will you do that for me?”
Connie had suddenly gone very pale, as if the enormity of what was down there had just hit her. Her lips trembled and a tear came into her eyes. It was all she could do to nod her assent.
I put my arm around her shoulders. “Jim’s right, Connie. It’s not something you should see.”
Peter was studying us, a puzzled look on his face. “Would someone mind putting me in the picture here?” he repeated. “I haven’t a clue what’s going on. In fact, so far, no one’s bothered to explain to me just what she’s doing here.” He pointed towards Connie, almost accusingly.
“Knock it off, Peter,” Jim snapped. “I’ll brief you later. But, in the meantime, you say nothing about this,” (he waved a hand over the scene) “or Connie’s presence here, to anyone. Is that clear?” He repeated it when Peter failed to respond. “I said, is that clear, Sergeant?”
“Yes, sir,” Peter mumbled. “But it all sounds like mumbo-jumbo if you ask me.”
“I’m not asking, I’m ordering you. And if you value your career, you’ll do as I say.”
I walked away with Connie, leaving Jim to contact the various emergency services. Her job here was finished, and the sooner she got away the better.
I gave her a warm hug and assured her I would see her later. Then I helped her into the helicopter. In a couple minutes they were airborne once again. Jim had given the sergeant instructions that, when they landed at Birmingham Airport, he was to have a car waiting to return Connie to Ashworth House. As I watched them disappear over the horizon I rang Steve Harrison to ensure that he would be on duty when Connie arrived back.