The Concrete Ceiling

by Peter Rowlands

  I phoned the police station to ask if they had any news about Sam. Initially the officer I spoke to was cagey, merely telling me they had nothing to report. Then he seemed to take pity on me. “Off the record,” he said, “my colleagues went back to Mr Hathaway’s flat last night, and they were able to talk to him. He agreed that Ms Adams had been there, but said she’d left at the time you gave us. They had no reason to disbelieve him.”

  “Where did she go?”

  He seemed to debate with himself whether to tell me any more, then said, “Look, I believe they tracked her phone, and she went back to her car. It was in a car park in the town. It’s still there now, but there’s no sign of her.”

  “So she’s just vanished into thin air?”

  “Or gone to stay with friends. Who knows?”

  “I don’t think she has friends in Banbury.”

  “Anyway, my colleagues will contact you if they need you again.”

  I thanked him, trying to sound grateful rather than impatient.

  I sat for a long time trying to imagine what could have happened to Sam. It was clear to me now that something had, but I couldn’t work out how to convince the police of it.

  I was still in a reverie when there was a sharp tap at my window. I wound it down to find Nick Hathaway smiling down at me.

  Chapter 74

  “Michael,” Nick said. “Do you fancy a ride?”

  I peered up at him, feeling shocked and wrong-footed. I said, “Not particularly. What have you done with Sam?”

  “Done with her? Nothing. What are you talking about?”

  I felt at a disadvantage in the low-slung sports car with Nick towering over me. I pushed him away by opening the door, then climbed out next to him. We were about the same height.

  I said, “She’s disappeared. You must know that – you’ve had the police round.”

  “Have I indeed? You’re very well informed.”

  “So?”

  He gave me a long quizzical look. I was about to make some impatient remark when he said, “If you’d like to see Sam, you’ll need to come with me.”

  That silenced me for a moment. He was apparently admitting something bad had happened to her. Finally he was ready to show his true colours.

  Recovering, I said, “What? You know where she is? How come?”

  “As I say, come with me and all will be revealed.”

  “Why should I? Tell me where to go and I’ll drive there myself.”

  He gave a sigh. “How can I put this? Come with me or don’t come at all.”

  “You’re threatening me?”

  “This doesn’t have to be about you, Mike. It’s Sam’s welfare that’s at stake.”

  “For fuck’s sake.” I lifted my phone to make a call.

  He took half a step towards me. “I would advise you not to do that. Strongly.” There was a hardness in his tone that I’d never heard before.

  I hesitated, and he said, “Leave your phone in your car. Now! Lock it and come with me. All right?”

  I looked at him judiciously. Did I have to do what he was saying? I could try fighting him, knocking him down, attempting to pummel him into telling me what on earth he’d done with Sam. But was I capable of it? I’d never learned anything about one-to-one combat, and I wasn’t especially strong or unusually well built. If I messed up, I would make things worse without achieving anything.

  Alternatively I could get back in my car and drive to the nearest police station. But then I wouldn’t know where he’d gone, or how to find Sam.

  He seemed to guess what I was thinking. He said, “Forget it. If anything happens to me and I can’t get back to Sam, she’s in trouble. I mean serious trouble. And it’ll happen of its own accord. It’s the default outcome.” He gave me a defiant glare. “So come with me or leave her to take her chances. It’s up to you.”

  I hesitated, glancing between him and my phone. If I couldn’t fight him, maybe I could summon help in some way. But I quickly realised it was too late to make any surreptitious gestures or sound an alarm of any kind. He was standing right in front of me, and he would know.

  He said, “It’s your call. You don’t have to come, but you don’t want to contemplate the consequences if you refuse.”

  Reluctantly I threw the phone into the car and locked the door. I said, “Lead on, then.”

  “No – after you.”

  His black SUV was parked behind my car. He glanced around warily, then opened one of the back doors. “I’m afraid I need you to sit in the foot well. Sorry about the inconvenience, but at least you’ll find the carpet is comfortable enough. It should be at the price I paid for this thing.”

  I glanced at him in disbelief, but he merely shrugged. So I clambered in and shuffled into the foot well, trying to make myself comfortable by sitting across it and leaning back against the door. He walked round to the driver’s side and climbed in himself. Moments later we were on our way.

  * * *

  I’d expected him to drive me somewhere local, but we quickly joined the motorway, and three quarters of an hour had passed before we slowed down on local roads. I peered out gingerly and realised we’d arrived at the Chilworth Fields shopping development in Rugby. He drove slowly along the road past the existing shopping centre, and I noticed red and white striped traffic cones and barriers along the opposite pathway, next to the vacant lot. They looked as if they were waiting to be brought into use.

  Gesturing over towards them, Nick said, “Tomorrow is the big day. Or I should say, the big bang day.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “We’re going to blast away the false floor so that we can get on with laying the new foundations.”

  “Good for you.”

  “You wouldn’t believe all the approvals and permissions and notifications you have to deal with to get authorisation to use explosives. It costs a small fortune. And what about the policing that has to be rolled out to keep the public at bay? You’d think there was going to be a royal visit.”

  “Where’s Sam?”

  “All in good time.”

  He accelerated forward, then slowed again and turned off the road on to a track that led down the side of the vacant lot. He leaned over the back of the seat. “Get your head right down if you want to see Sam.”

  “I hear you.”

  After a short and bumpy ride Nick made a U-turn and slowed down. He leaned round again and said tersely, “Not a word from you – not a single word. Otherwise all bets are off – you won’t get to see Samantha, and this won’t end well for her. Are we clear?”

  “We’re clear.”

  “I hope so.”

  He opened the driver’s window and called out to someone, and a short conversation followed. It started with an air of good-natured banter between boss and foreman, then the tone became slightly strained. Nick was saying he “wanted to take a final look” at something, but the other person was urging him not to. Eventually Nick won out. The other speaker said, “Just so long as you know I’m not taking responsibility.”

  Nick put the car back into drive and inched it down a long ramp. We passed under an arch like a tunnel portal, and the light dimmed around us. I guessed we were under the floor of the vacant lot.

  We continued for perhaps a hundred and fifty metres, then stopped. Nick turned off the engine. “You can get out now.”

  I stood up stiffly. We were in a kind of vast brick cellar with a low ceiling and arches along both sides. The passage we’d driven down was lit by inadequate bare bulbs with wire strung between them. Beyond the arches, dark spaces led off in every direction.

  Nick said, “Nobody really knows what the cement company used this place for. Storage of raw materials, maybe? Extra warehouse capacity for bagged product? Or maybe nothing at all. Maybe it was just wasted space. Who can tell?”

  To say I was getting a bad feeling about this would be an understatement. Nick had brought me into a place where blasting was due tomorrow t
o bring the ceiling down. That didn’t spell any kind of good outcome.

  I couldn’t decide whether reasoning or firmness would be of more use at this point. I thought I would start with reasoning. I said, “What’s all this about, Nick? Why have you brought me here? Where’s Sam?”

  “Well, you said you wanted to see her, so now you can.”

  “But all this – ” I gestured around – “what’s the point?”

  “I thought you’d appreciate the drama of it – you being a writer and so on.” He glanced upward. “There are fifty thousand tonnes of concrete over our heads. That’s pretty impressive, don’t you think? And we’re going to blow it up.”

  “I can’t see how that’s going to help your environmental problem. Won’t it just spread the contamination?”

  “There isn’t any contamination. Don’t you see? That was just a distraction.”

  “Whatever you say. So where’s Sam?”

  “We’re going that way.” He pointed towards one of the arches to the side of the main passage.

  I glanced at him, then back the way we’d come. It occurred to me that if Sam really was here somewhere, I didn’t need to obey him any longer. I could sprint back to the entrance and raise the alarm with whoever was there. Somehow we would find her in this maze.

  Nick was thinking ahead of me. He said, “If you’re planning on bailing out, don’t.”

  I was about to ask why when I realised he was pointing a hand gun at me. I said, “What the fuck?”

  “I’m a member of a gun club. I’ve got lots of these. I must say I’ve never fired one at a person. That would be a first.” He paused. “But please don’t think I won’t.”

  * * *

  Once through the arch we were in a broad passage with a ceiling just above head height. “Keep going,” Nick said.

  As the light dwindled behind us he took out his phone and set it to flashlight mode. I noticed occasional wooden doors set into the brick wall to our left. One or two were open, and had large fluorescent stickers on them depicting giant exclamation marks.

  After a while Nick said, “OK, we’re here.” He approached a door that was closed. “Stand over there.” He kept gesturing with the gun until I was several feet back, then took a large key from his pocket. He shoved it into the lock and turned it.

  As soon as the door opened there was a cry of “Thank Christ!” Nick raised his flashlight beam towards the door to reveal Sam standing in the doorway, looking bleached out in the harsh light. She blinked rapidly. “Who’s there?”

  I called, “I’m here, Sam, but I’m with Nick, and he’s got a gun.”

  “Jesus!” She peered towards the light, trying to see round it. “What the hell are you doing, Nick?”

  “Just safeguarding my investment.” He laughed bitterly. “Well, not my investment in you, but that’s your problem, not mine.”

  She said, “Have you taken leave of your senses?”

  “Not at all.” He turned to point the light at me. “Get in there with her. NOW!”

  I shuffled awkwardly over to the doorway and put my hand on Sam’s arm.

  “Very touching,” Nick said. “Both of you get inside.”

  I whispered urgently to her, “He’s going to blow us both up. We might as well run for it. Better than waiting around here.”

  “I can hear you,” Nick said. “This place has an amazing echo. If you try to run, I’ll shoot you before you can take two steps.”

  I said, “He’s bluffing. There are people outside and they’ll hear the shot. They’ll come to see what’s going on.”

  “Or I could just shoot you now, to make sure you don’t even try.”

  I hovered indecisively. If he locked us behind that door, how could we ever escape? But if he shot one or both of us, the question would become academic.

  While I was wavering he abruptly stepped forward and shoved me roughly in the chest. He was much stronger than he looked. I lost my balance and banged into Sam, who lurched backwards, and in the confusion he shoved me again. Before I knew it the door had slammed shut, leaving us behind it in darkness.

  Chapter 75

  A battalion of demons descended on me: fear of total darkness, fear of confined spaces, fear of dying. Before I could stop myself I gave a roar of fury and sank to my haunches, leaning back on the closed door. I was close to crying.

  Tentatively Sam said, “Mike – are you all right? Are you there?”

  I grunted.

  I sensed her sinking down beside me. She put a hand on my arm. “There must be something we can do.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to speak.

  After a moment she said, “This is un-fucking-believable. I was planning to marry a raving lunatic.”

  I was still trying to control my breathing – to stop myself spiralling into a meltdown of panic and fear.

  Sam said, “There are no other doors. I’ve checked. It’s quite a small room.”

  “Hm.”

  “Maybe we can open this one.”

  I managed to rasp out, “Just give me a minute, could you?”

  She squeezed my arm and fell silent.

  I tried deep breathing, and after a while it seemed to help. The anguish didn’t recede, but at least I was regaining some semblance of control. Finally I said, “What happened to you last night?”

  “He hit me. The fucking bastard hit me! No warning, no nothing. Just wallop! He knocked me out cold. Then he must have carried me down to the basement car park in the lift and shoved me in his car. The next thing I knew, he was frog-marching me along the corridor outside this door with my hands tied behind my back.”

  “Did he injure you? Are you all right?”

  She paused a moment to consider this. “My face is sore and my arm hurts like hell, but no broken bones. And at least he untied me.”

  “Thank god.”

  “Where are we? Do you know?”

  “It’s the Chilworth Fields development site in Rugby. This is the basement of an old cement warehouse or something.”

  “Well it’s bloody freezing, I can tell you that.”

  I shuffled closer to her. I said, “I don’t know how you got through the night.”

  “Nor do I.”

  “He says they’re going to blow this place up tomorrow – to prepare the site for development.”

  “That’s right. He showed me explosives in the room next door.”

  “So he’s just going to leave us here to get blown up with this place. Jesus!” I stood up. “We need to get out of here. There must be a way.”

  The door was timber, and felt depressingly solid. It moved slightly on its hinges, and I went into a frenzy of rattling and banging. It had no effect. Sam said, “I tried that.”

  I felt my way round the walls. Although Sam had said there was no other exit, I needed to find out for myself. But she was right, there was no other doorway – just bare brick walls. The space was about twenty feet square, with a rough unmade floor. Like the rest of the place it had a low ceiling; I could touch it by raising my arm above my head. There was a pervasive dampness in the air, and the darkness had a strange quality that I could almost feel.

  I made my way back to Sam and said, “You know what we have to do now? Shout.”

  She sighed. “I tried that too. Shouting, screaming, crying, wailing. Waste of bloody breath.”

  “Maybe there are more people around now that it’s the daytime. We have to try.”

  So we gave it our best shot. Sam produced an amazing screech, I delivered a full-blooded yell, and we kept it up intermittently for several minutes. In a hoarse voice I said, “Let’s listen and see if we can hear anyone responding.”

  There was nothing but profound silence.

  Sam said, “Surely if they’re blasting, they’ll send people round to do a final check that there’s no one here? We need to listen out for them, and save enough energy to make a lot of noise when we hear them.”

  “It would be nice to think so.”

 
; We both sank back down and leaned against the door. A deep sense of misery descended on me again. For a long time neither of us spoke.

  “You could put this in your next book,” Sam said suddenly.

  “That’s a good idea.” I paused. “But in the book, how do we get out?”

  “I was hoping you would know that.”

  * * *

  Time passed. We shouted and yelled intermittently, we explored every inch of the walls. Nothing helped. To add to our woes, we realised we were hungry and thirsty. At one point Sam said, “This kind of thing simply doesn’t happen. We must be in a dream. We’ll wake up soon and find we’re back at home.”

  What was worst for me was the sense of utter helplessness. We were trapped and powerless. Every time we stopped talking, the horror of our situation flooded my system. I felt overwhelmed by it.

  We found ourselves sitting side by side on the floor near the door, with our backs hunched against the wall. For the time being we’d run out of energy for anything else. Sam said, “Are we going to die?”

  “No we’re bloody well not!” My reply was pure bravado, but I wanted to shout down any negative thoughts.

  “Why not? No one knows where we are. Even if people look for us, why would they look in here? We can’t get out unless he lets us out, and he isn’t going to, is he?” She swallowed a sob. “I’m so fucking THIRSTY!”

  “Maybe he just wants to teach us a lesson. Maybe he’ll release us at the eleventh hour.”

  “Nice try, but why would he? We would report him to the police for abduction, for attempted murder, for god knows what. He must know that. His life would be over.”

  “Well, the officials working on the site will probably do a check. You said it yourself. They’ll find us.”

  “But he’ll stop them, won’t he? He can’t afford to let anyone near enough to hear us. He’ll find some excuse to prevent them from coming down here. He’ll probably say he’s doing the checks himself.”