CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

 

Kate had no proof that Emily was being held in the tunnels beneath the marsh.

She had no proof that the tunnels were even accessible.

Her only lead came from her sergeant, who secretly spoke with dead people.

She had coerced a small army of uniformed officers into searching a dangerous wreck of a building with little or no reason, and she had got her manager to sweet-talk the Fire Department into loaning her equipment that could cost her her pension should it get damaged. Even the University had sent one of their finest, complete with enough technology to unearth a small lost city.

And now she had requested reinforcements, in order to find the entrances to six underground tunnels that may or may not exist, and the only way she’d made that happen, was to lie through her teeth. “We’ve heard noises, Super, and they were coming from below ground. All the evidence, and it’s supported by a university expert, points to underground structures that could easily be used as places of  concealment for a abducted girl.” God forgive me, she prayed silently.

As she watched men and women gird themselves up for the search, she considered her position, and came to the conclusion, that all in all, she was not in a very good place right now. The ice that she was skating on was paper-thin, and she dare not look down or she may see the sharp teeth of the open-mouthed monsters that swam only millimetres beneath her feet.

And for all this, Kate still knew in her heart that Emily was there.

And why? Because Jon Summerhill had said that she was. And somehow that evened up the odds.

Even as three o’clock came and went, and the search parties determined that four of the six tunnels were either collapsed or inaccessible, Kate still knew that they would find her.

 

The call came just before evening began painting purple shadows across the marsh.

‘We’ve found an entrance, ma’am!’  The police woman was red-faced and sweating profusely. ‘It’s the marsh tunnel, ma’am, and it runs for about quarter of a mile out into Hobs End.’

Kate swiftly glanced across to Jon, and saw a flush of both excitement and fear appear on his pale face.

‘Where is it?’ She asked, then beckoned to Rosie and called out for her to get the others.

‘There’s an old building of some kind, ma’am, its little more than lumps of concrete and partially collapsed walls. I suppose it was an old cottage that was abandoned because of the threat of flooding. It’s not far above sea level, but there’s a hatch that leads into some kind of root cellar, and then a door into the tunnel itself.’ She wiped her forearm across her brow. ‘We’ve been down as far as the door. It’s locked, but we want permission to break it down. We can’t just bust in without authority, ma’am?’

‘In order to protect a life you can, and I believe that someone is in mortal danger. As soon as the rest of the team arrive, we’ll follow you, constable, and we go in.’

The marsh path was narrow and uneven, but somehow their personal safety didn’t seem to count. They ran together, slipping and tripping, until they reached the derelict remains of the building.

As she paused to get her breath back, Kate saw Jon looking thoughtfully at the moss covered piles of masonry and ancient brickwork, eaten and corroded by water and time. He raised his eyes in her direction, nodded silently to her, and she knew that they were in the right place.

One by one they eased through the old hatch, and found themselves in a tiny root cellar. The stench of damp, mildew and rotting plant-life made them gag. It was obviously in its original state, but unlike the cellar, the door to the tunnel had been replaced. Kate looked in fascination. The wood was strong, and the lock was a heavy-duty modern design and there was fresh oil glistening around it.

A police constable stood waiting, a weighty metal enforcer hanging from one muscled arm. ‘Ma’am?’ He looked at Kate expectantly and swung the piece of equipment upwards in readiness.

She glanced across to Jon. This was it. In for a penny, she thought, and then her heart began to race. She looked around at her team and knew that they felt the same. Even Ted Watchman, who gently cradled the precious thermal camera like a newborn baby, looked like he had been wired to a socket and was waiting for the switch to be thrown.

The constable needed half a dozen blows to shatter the lock. And after the echoes of the splintering wood had died away, they moved forward.

‘This is the place,’ whispered Jon. ‘They are all around me telling me so, and someone is singing.’

For some reason that information made her shudder. Who would sing down in this stinking pit?  ‘And Emily?’ Kate whispered back. ‘Do you believe she’s still alive?’

‘I don’t know for sure, but something is telling me that she is.’

Kate began to pray that he was right, and broke into a run.

The light from their torches bounced off the walls and made bizarre patterns on the ceiling of the tunnels, and she began to wonder where they were going.

‘We must be getting close to Windrush house now, DCI Reynard.’ Ted puffed along side of them. ‘According to the survey, the tunnel should be finishing soon.’

‘There’s a door up ahead, Guv,’ called back Rosie, who had sprinted on in front. ‘And we’re going to need that enforcer again.’

‘Wait, all of you, and keep the voices down for a moment.’ The gravity of the moment took hold of Kate.

They had no idea of what they would find inside. For all they knew, their psycho-abductor could be waiting with a knife to Emily’s throat, or she could be sitting on a deftly-wired home-made bomb. Or it may be any empty room.

‘Okay, Ted, this is your moment.’ Kate said grimly. ‘I need to know if there’s anything alive behind that door.’

She heard him exhale nervously, and move closer to the big, heavy-hinged wooden door. He carefully unfolded the display screen on the camera and pressed a series of buttons. The screen came alive, and he moved it steadily from left to right.

It felt as if the whole search team was holding their breath.

Ted remained silent, angling the camera this way and that, and then he gave a little sigh, and Kate’s heart sank.

She could think of nothing other than the fact that they were too late.

Then there was the slightest intake of breath. ‘Yes! There’s a heat source! It’s faint, very faint, but it’s there.’

‘Just one?’

‘Just one, I’m certain of it.’ Ted stepped back. ‘Chief Inspector, it seems to be a very big area in there. If it’s the kind of storeroom that I think it is, it’s massive.’

‘Constable! Break it down.’

As the big policeman moved forward, they all stood back to give him room to swing the enforcer, and as the first blow rang out, Kate stood there quietly praying that neither of her boys would ever decide to follow in their mother’s foot-steps.

She felt sick with apprehension. Was it Emily? Or a stray cat?

And if it was her, what state would she be in? What would they find they went inside? And if it were a cat?  Kate thought about the massive search party and everything it entailed, and saw again those sharp pointed teeth snapping at her ankles through that gossamer thin ice.