by N Williams
‘But we don’t know what we’re dealing with.’
‘True, but I’m pretty bloody sure that whoever is after this thing is not looking to negotiate a reasonable deal. You’ve got to impress on them the need for an armed response... and don’t forget to tell them there are a couple of good guys down there too.’
Zac smiled as he zipped up the webbing containing an array of arms and equipment Sally had only seen in movies. ‘Don’t worry Sally. We’ll be okay. Gates is a big boy, and I know what I’m doing. Just stay out of the way for me, please. I don’t want anyone else getting hurt...especially you.’
The flood of emotions Sally had managed to contain for the past few days suddenly burst through the dam. Tears streamed down her face as she threw herself into Zac’s arms. ‘Please be careful, Zac. I can’t stand the thought of losing you.’
He would have been happy to stay in the embrace for the rest of the night, but Zac knew Gates would need him. ‘I’ll be okay, Sally. You just do as I asked and we’ll get out of this...hopefully with whatever we’re searching for.’
‘Fuck the thing! I just want this to end.’
‘Sally...wash your mouth out.’ Zac laughed and kissed her forehead. ‘In the words of that great android-politician…“I’ll be back.”’
CHAPTER 59
He was too experienced to run into trouble. Walking briskly, Gates held the shotgun to his chest, ready to spring into action.
The corridor led towards reception and down some steps towards a glass-partitioned stairwell to the basement. At least Gates could see no one was waiting to surprise him. This part of the castle was obviously still under renovation. The unpainted wood doorframe still smelled of freshly cut pine. The handle and catch had broken off and were lying on the parquet floor, and the door swung easily into the stairwell.
Listening for any sounds below, Gates checked the old shotgun. It was in good condition for its age, but he’d have felt a lot better with something more modern, like the weapons he’d secured from his source in London. At least Zac would bring the extra firepower. All he had to do was assess the situation and wait for backup.
A single bulb swung gently at the end of its pendant illuminating the room at the bottom of the stairwell. Rows of empty bottle-racks lined the three walls ahead of him, one of which had been moved out from the wall. Two large hand lamps sat neatly aligned on the displaced rack. Gates walked carefully over the floor and saw a small wooden hatch propped against the rear of the rack. A dark passageway lay ahead. Gates propped the shotgun against the rack and tested the lamps for life. One was dead, but the other still seemed to hold a decent charge. He pushed through the hatch and entered another space. The room was the size of a two-car garage. Floor to ceiling drapes hung around all the walls, each depicting a Station of the Cross. Directly in front of him was what looked like a church altar. A purple drape was crumpled on the floor at the foot of the altar structure, and a wooden board lay alongside.
Gates retrieved the shotgun and walked over to the odd structure. He smiled as he peered into the deep hole set within.
Crafty!
He climbed up onto the stone slab and tested the strength of the iron ladder descending into the ground. Satisfied, he stepped carefully onto the first of the old metal rungs. He shone the flashlight down the shaft and waited for some reaction from below. Nothing. They had gone. He grabbed his gun and carefully climbed down into the cave, gingerly stepping off the ladder into a narrow fast-moving stream without a sound.
The last faint glow of a light was barely visible in the right hand branch ahead. Gates had no idea why anyone would want to build a secret chapel under the castle and an even more secret entrance to a hidden cave was equally baffling, but he was certain that he was the unwitting pawn in a chess game that was rapidly reaching checkmate. How and why the individual pieces of this mysterious game had been moved in this sequence he had no idea, but he was going to see it through to the end. There were just two options for him at this point; wait for Zac and the extra weapons - and risk losing the enemy in the labyrinth underneath the castle - or go after them. Gates grinned to himself as he realised there was only one option for him.
Picking a small stone up from the bottom of the fast-moving little stream, Gates scratched an arrow shape in the wall of the passageway. At least if Zac followed he’d be able to find him and, more importantly, he’d also be able to find his way back out.
Setting off at a run, Gates shone the torch onto the passageway floor. The glow from up ahead was getting even dimmer. He had to move fast.
CHAPTER 60
The castle was closed to the public. The obligatory blue and white striped tape working overtime, the building looked like the Jeanne-Claude Christo had wrapped the place.
Police vehicles closed the road a mile in each direction within minutes of receiving the call and D.I. Boyce was strutting around the front courtyard dressed in black fireproof coveralls and body armour. A small black .38 handgun was strapped to his leg.
A small portable control unit had been parked next to the entrance, the door of which suddenly burst open. D.S. Mann stepped out of the control vehicle and made a beeline towards a plainclothes policewoman.
‘Do us a favour love.’ He grinned. ‘Fasten this strap for me will you?’ He provocatively swung a body armour retaining strap between his legs.
The policewoman smiled and walked seductively towards him, grabbed the strap and yanked it up hard between his legs. She whispered in his ear as his face turned red and his mouth dropped open in pain.
‘Call me that again and you’ll not only be looking for a new set of balls, but you’ll be looking for a new career.’ She let go of the strap, and walked towards the control van.
Boyce had watched the encounter from a distance and laughed.
Mann doubled over. ‘Shit, that fucking hurts!’
‘Not many get a Detective Superintendent to fasten their body armour. She must fancy you,’ he smiled.
The colour of Mann’s face instantly changed from a flushed red to a shocked white. ‘Oh, bollocks.’
‘You won’t have any bollocks if you keep speaking to women like that.’
Mann flopped down onto the gravel courtyard, still holding his bruised pride.
The Detective Superintendent reappeared at the door to the control van. ‘D.I. Boyce? Be ready in five.’ She nodded towards Mann. ‘And, make sure Gene Hunt there keeps his mind on the job...not his knob.’
Boyce grinned and helped the moaning Mann to his feet.
CHAPTER 61
The light ahead had begun to grow brighter. Gates knew he was catching up. He checked the cartridges in his pocket and thumped the wall of the cave as the old paper tubes containing the powder began to fall apart in his hand. They were wet. There was no point in wasting time wondering how it had happened. They were now useless, and he only had the two left in the barrel of the old gun. He would have to make sure of each shot.
Tactically, he knew he was wrong to follow the villains. With no means of backup, and with next to nothing to defend himself, he knew his ex-firearms team leader would be livid at his stupidity. But hey, shit happened and life was never perfect.
Gates edged further along the passageway. He could hear the sound of fast running water ahead - a lot of it. The little stream under his feet had now risen considerable and was nearly over his knees. It made it hard to move quietly and slowed his pace.
The light ahead had now become so bright that he was sure he’d stumble upon his quarry just around the next bend in the passageway. He moved to the inside of the bend and switched off his torch. There was enough light ahead to navigate safely the rest of the way. Voices were raised above the rumble of what could only be a waterfall. Crouching down into the stream Gates held the shotgun clear of the water as he peered around the bend, just as he heard the click of the safety being released on the Uzi submachine gun pointing directly at the top of his head.
*
Being a big
man, Tourrain hadn’t met many who were bigger than himself. As he ordered Gates to stand he found himself looking at a physical specimen even more impressive than himself. At six feet three and two hundred and forty pounds, Tourrain was often mistaken for being out of shape. His waistline had certainly begun to expand over the last few years, but at nearly forty-five, he was still fit and incredibly strong. In his native Croatia, he had been a heavyweight boxing champion and had been earmarked for a crack at a major title. But life got in the way, especially the life sentence he had received for the murder of three prostitutes one rain-sodden Saturday night in a Dubrovnik back street. But that had been nearly thirty years ago and Tourrain hadn’t been near the land of his birth since his fortunate escape after several days of hiding from the authorities.
Tourrain had been drawn to the city’s docks, a place of options for someone wanting to flee the country, with the added attraction of drawing the type of people he felt most comfortable with - people who earned a living on the fringe of society, exploiting those who were weaker than themselves. What began that night as a savage bar brawl between him and another unsavoury character resulted in a comfortable alliance of like-minded souls. Fredrick Bourse had had the balls to attempt to mug Tourrain as he entered the restroom and after a fistfight that lasted nearly thirty minutes the pair eventually broke off the vicious battle when the landlord finally called the police - something he felt he had to do as the interior fittings of the spit-and-sawdust establishment began to disintegrate around him.
Before the police arrived, Tourrain and Bourse had shaken hands and sworn an oath of allegiance, a criminal partnership of frightening proportions - a two-man wrecking-ball of destruction for the hire of anyone who could afford to pay them.
After all these years, Tourrain knew there was still no one, other than Bourse, who could stand a chance against him in a fight, but there was something about this big man in front of him that caused the briefest flash of doubt to race through his mind. Although the thought had passed before it had even had time to formulate into something tangible, it unsettled Tourrain to the core. It was an emotion he had never experienced before and simply didn’t understand. He took a step back from the big man before him and pointed the Uzi straight between Gates’ eyes.
‘Drop the shotgun.’ It was the big man’s eyes. They showed no sign of panic or fear. That wasn’t normal. Every man Tourrain had killed had shown some fear when a gun was cocked and pointed at his head, but this man seemed devoid of fear. He just stood there, holding the gun even after he had been ordered to drop it.
‘Drop it now. I won’t tell you again.’
*
Gates felt like screaming in frustration and anger at himself. The sight of an Uzi pointed between your eyes would normally induce a severe case of the bowel-trots in even the hardest of people, and Gates had no doubt that had this been any occasion other than right now then he’d mopping up the mess too. But he was so angry at his own stupidity that all he felt was rage, a rage he was finding difficult to control.
It looked like Uzi-man was getting impatient. Gates slowly opened his hand and let the big gun drop into the water rushing around his thighs. The water was undoubtedly rising. He could feel it creeping ever so slowly up his legs, though he dared not take his eyes off Uzi-man before him. Gates was ushered into the waterfall chamber. Two others were standing below the falls, seemingly distracted by Gates’ arrival. One of the men looked familiar.
Uzi-man was being cautious. At no point was he getting close enough for Gates to have a chance of disarming him. There was also the little problem of the other two characters he could hear in the background. Three against one was never a good bet. For the time being he’d have to bide his time and hope for a break.
CHAPTER 62
After taking the call from Ffion - and tearing himself away from Sally - Zac rushed down the corridor towards reception where he found the terrified receptionist pointing to the stairwell leading into the basement.
‘He went down there...’ she said, pointing down the stairs.
‘What’s down there, Ffion?’
Shaking her head, Ffion was clearly bemused. ‘Nothing that I can think of. Used to be a wine cellar with a few bottles of the best wine, but mainly empty racks. It’s only a small room. Why can’t I hear anyone down there?’
Odd.
A small room at the bottom of the stairs, containing two people, plus Gates? Knowing his friend, Zac was sure the big man would have given the other two some reason to make a noise or two.
‘Okay. Go up to my room. You’ll find Sally there. I want you to stay with her and to help her until we return. Got that?’
The woman nodded, her eyes threatening to pop out on stalks as she finally took in the array of armaments attached to, or hanging from Zac. Before leaving she grabbed hold of his arm. ‘Be careful. They’ve got guns too.’
‘I’m always careful.’ Zac smiled, as he pushed through the door to the stairwell.
*
Watching big Uzi-man climb the rope to the top of the waterfall, Gates was surprised by his agility. The other goon stood over Gates as he sat on a large boulder in the middle of the chamber. The place was enormous. It reminded him of a large cooking pot - a pot nearly sixty feet in height and with a diameter just a few feet less. Large boulders had, at some time in the past, fallen from the roof of the chamber and lay strewn across the floor, their rounded corners and the accumulation of stalagmites evidence they had fallen a considerable time ago - probably many tens of thousands of years.
The raging waterfall roared into the chamber ahead of him. There was something about it that troubled Gates. The sound of the roar seemed to be getting louder, and that could only mean one thing - more water. The small pool below the fall split into several equally small streams to snake their way around the debris of the ancient rock fall, but these had surreptitiously begun to grow and spit in rising anger at their confinement.
Gates stared at the water level rushing past his feet but couldn’t be sure if he was imagining a increase in the level.
The next to make the climb was the smaller man. Dressed in a suit, he looked as out of place as Gates. Uzi-man had his weapon trained on the thin man as he climbed the waterfall.
The big man standing over Gates jabbed him in the back with his machine pistol. ‘You’re next.’
Gates hopped over the boulders to the rope and pulled himself up into the passageway above. The thin man extended a hand as he clambered over the edge.
‘Here! Take my hand.’
It was then that Gates remembered where he had seen the man before. It was the owner of the castle - the guy called Farrell.
‘What the fuck is going on here?’
Farrell shook his head. ‘You’d better just do as they say. They mean business. I’m surprised they haven’t shot you already.’
Uzi-man stepped aside and gestured for Gates and Farrell to move further into the tunnel.
Gates grudgingly complied and moved from the edge as the second burly man clambered up to join them.
‘What’s all this about?’ Gates whispered.
Before Farrell could answer Uzi-man pushed him roughly into the wall.
‘Shut up! No more talking.’ A trickle of blood ran down Farrell’s face, a reminder that the two brawny men meant business.
The smile on Uzi’s face at the sight of the blood sent clear signals to Gates. These were men who enjoyed inflicting pain. They were typical of the dozens of hired thugs Gates had encountered over the years. But Gates also knew that the very thing that made this type dangerous also made them vulnerable - distracted by their enjoyment they were often left exposed just when they least expected it. All Gates had to do was obey for the time being and wait for that opportunity to arrive - as he knew it would.
CHAPTER 63
Standing on the bottom rung of the ladder, Zac couldn’t go any further. His hands were fixed to the metal rungs. Frozen with fear, he had forced himself to desc
end into the depths of the cave. This was the first time in many years that he had entered any kind of confined space. Even during his years as an officer in London he had refused to use the free concession the police were granted to use the tube.
It was still raw after thirty years - the dark, golden glow of the cave, the smells and sounds still vivid in his memory. He felt on the verge of panic, breath shallow and rapid, skin cold and clammy. He even felt the first tears form in his eyes. Zac had experienced fear many times since that fateful day in 1978, but this was something else. Only he had escaped those tunnels. Only he had been rescued two days after the flood waters had subsided. His friends were dead. Only the body of Chris Hodges was ever found. The others were lost forever in the bowels of the earth.
The newspapers had gone to town on Zac as the only surviving member of the party, accusing him of stupidity. He knew they were probably right. Nothing they could write or say would ever be as painful as standing at the graveside of his friends as headstones were set to mark the places where their bodies would never be, and facing the accusing looks.
Zac tried to force his hands from the ladder. He would have to move sometime, even if it was to climb back up. That thought seemed to do it. With his hands free, he pushed himself away to the middle of the tunnel, taking baby-steps, incapable of more.
Visions of his friends and the feeling of anger he felt for being incapable of helping them tormented him. He thought of his friend Bill Gates, the self-sacrifice he had made for Zac. There was no other option - he had to follow.
Carefully feeling his way along the wall, looking back to the entrance every couple of paces, Zac found an arrow mark scratched into the surface of the rock.
