by Matt Brolly
‘Well, if you insist on going ahead, I would suggest we get the rest of my colleagues in and we can make a methodical search of the place in sections. That way, we’ll get it covered quicker. Not that you’re going to find anything,’ he added, for good measure.
‘How quickly could you get that arranged?’ said Lambert.
‘If everyone’s available, the next hour and a half? Two hours to be safe.’
‘If you could do so that would be wonderful,’ said Lambert.
‘Leave it to me,’ said Friedman, walking away.
Lambert followed the man back into the car park and placed his hand on his shoulder, making sure he was out of earshot from the rest of the team.
‘You’ve been working here twenty years, Mr Friedman?’ Lambert asked.
‘That’s right.’
‘Did you ever come across a man by the name of Leonard Hodge?’
Friedman’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’d only been in the job a couple of years at the time but I knew him. Strange creature. A loner.’
‘Do you remember his son?’
Friedman nodded, his lips pursed. ‘Even stranger creature. Never said boo to a ghost. That last year before Leonard died he was down here every day, even when his father wasn’t around. The boss at the time used to let him. He’d take a lamp and a torch and off he’d go, wandering the place as if it was his backyard.’
Lambert paused, remembering what Gladys had told him. ‘He was found down here? Leonard?’
Friedman looked to the ground. ‘I didn’t find him, thank God. He must have been down here days. They say he had a heart attack but I think he starved himself to death.’
Lambert nodded, imagining the self-control it would take to remain underground long enough to die from starvation.
‘Thanks, Mr Friedman. Please, let me know when you have your team together.’
Lambert instructed Bickland to find more officers for the search. Caroline Jardine was down here. He was sure of it. He called Matilda and updated her on the situation.
‘Do you want me to come over?’ she asked.
‘No. I think you’re more than busy enough over there,’ said Lambert, ‘but I’ll keep you informed.’
With Nicholls’ help, they managed to split the search into eight sections. Lambert led the main search from the entrance in Chislehurst and walked the tunnels with Nicholls. Barnes had sent extra bodies from his team and the noise of hundreds of officers trawling the caves reverberated across the stone interior.
They soon passed from the tourist area into less patrolled sections. If Hodge had taken Jardine, Lambert was under no illusion that he would have left her there in plain sight. As deserted as the caves usually were, Nichols informed him the majority of tunnels were in occasional use. Some kind of role-playing group used the caves for their activities. Lambert had spoken to the leader of the organisation, who claimed not to have come across any sign of other people using the space.
Lambert shone his torch onto the rocks as he moved through tunnel after tunnel. He tried to imagine the men who had mined the area hundreds of years ago, the planning needed for such a mammoth project.
At least the caves were blessed with a lightness of air. As Nichols suggested, the caves had a constant temperature which meant the Jardines would not have perished through cold. After a few hours, the search parties began crossing into one another’s territories. Lambert noticed the looks on his fellow officers’ faces. They either thought it was a waste of time or had given up hope.
‘We’re nearing the end of our section,’ said Nicholls. They were four miles into the cave and faced a long trek back. Was it a mistake? Lambert remembered the plaintive cries of Trevor Hodge on the phone stating Marcus Jardine was dead. That had only been hours before Hodge died, and he hadn’t mentioned Caroline. Why go to the trouble of switching their bodies, only to take their lives? No, he was convinced Caroline was being held captive somewhere, and this had to be the place.
‘Have you shown me everywhere?’
‘The teams have covered every inch as far as I can ascertain.’
‘If you were going to hide somewhere, where would it be?’
Nicholls checked his map and began walking. ‘There are a couple of other places we could try. It’s a long shot, though.’ He led Lambert through more tunnels, moving as if he was outside, making swift turns without a second thought until he came to a halt. He shone a torch against a cave wall, moving the beam of light up and down as if searching for something. ‘No,’ he said, almost to himself.
‘What is it?’ said Lambert.
Nicholls ran his hand along the cave wall. ‘There’s a gap here. I thought it might be big enough to squeeze through but I’m afraid I was mistaken.’
Lambert hadn’t noticed the gap but up close he saw it. It was about big enough to stick a head through but he wasn’t about to try. ‘Anywhere else like this?’
‘A couple. There’s an opening, probably about two or three miles from here. I have to warn you though, it’s down quite a low tunnel. You’ll be on your hands and knees by the end.’
Lambert’s optimism faded as he followed Nicholls down the winding tunnels. It seemed inconceivable Hodge would have gone to all this effort. How would he have forced the Jardines along these corridors? ‘Is there another entrance anywhere near here?’ he asked, as the walls started narrowing.
‘No. Unless…’
‘Unless?’
‘It’s highly unlikely, but there are some houses built on the land above. Who knows, there may be some secret entrance,’ he said, with a mocking smile.
‘It’s not a joke.’
‘I know, sorry. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility. There have always been rumours about such things. Legends I guess. Anyway, here’s the spot.’
Nicholls had stopped at an opening which was about the same height as him. ‘It gets narrower,’ said Nicholls. ‘I believe there is a second opening about eight hundred yards down.’
Lambert called out Caroline’s name as he followed Nicholls into the tunnel. The hard ground was taking its toll on his knees and soon he was crouching as the tunnel narrowed and the roof of the cave dropped. ‘Lucky I’m not claustrophobic,’ he said.
‘You will be,’ said Nicholls, as they dropped down a level.
Lambert was on all fours now and progress was slow. They were packed in so tight he feared they would have to go backwards when they left the tunnel.
‘Through here,’ said Nicholls, shining his torch into an opening the size of a small human.
Lambert controlled a mounting panic, the confines of the tunnel echoing his earlier confinement in the MRI scanner only days ago. ‘Check it,’ he said to Nicholls.
Nicholls inched forwards as the tunnel narrowed. At the opening the cave roof was higher and he managed to get to his feet through, albeit with his back arched. Lambert whispered a prayer to a God he didn’t believe in as Nicholls peered into the opening. He made his way through the gap, stepping in sideways until all Lambert could see was his left leg dangling from the opening, as if the cave had somehow swallowed him whole.
Seconds later he shuffled back out. Lambert shone his torch at the man’s face, which was crestfallen. ‘You better get in there,’ said Nicholls. ‘We’ve found them.’
Chapter Fifty-Three
Lambert told Nicholls to call in their location to the other teams as he brushed past him. Nicholls didn’t elucidate on what he’d seen beyond the gap and Lambert didn’t ask.
‘Take this,’ said Nicholls, handing Lambert a second high-powered torch.
Lambert took a deep breath and squeezed himself through the opening. His first response on viewing the scene was to close his eyes. Somehow the smell hadn’t filtered through to the tunnel but it hit him full force now, his eyes watering. The opening led to an enclosed area twenty metres in diameter. To the right of him lay the corpse of Marcus Jardine. His eyes were still open and they appeared to stare back at Lambert as if in accusation.
To the right of him, Caroline Jardine lay on the cold floor. Her arms were bound, a chain linking her cuffed wrists to a holding hook fixed on the cave wall. She looked lifeless and Lambert approached with trepidation. ‘Caroline,’ he whispered, as he took the short steps to her body.
He reached for her neck and almost let out a cry as he found a weak pulse. Relief and elation rushed his body, despite the sight of her deceased husband nearby. He shone the torch into her closed eyes to force a response but she didn’t open them. Her face was drawn, her lips bone-dry. He tipped water from his canteen onto them and the majority of drops bounced off as if they were impermeable.
‘Caroline,’ he repeated more urgently, as he shook her body in an attempt to revive her. He felt his own hands shake as he continued his attempts to wake her. His elation at finding her was dampened by the possibility that he was too late.
She still didn’t respond so Lambert used his walkie-talkie to check in with the response team. It was then he noticed the small opening in the cave roof above him. ‘Nicholls, get in here,’ he shouted.
Nicholls peered into the cave. It was clear from his face that he’d rather be anywhere else.
‘Up there,’ said Lambert.
Nicholls glanced towards the roof of the cave, using a second torch to clarify what he was looking at. ‘Well, I’ll be,’ he said.
‘Could you deduce where the entrance is?’ asked Lambert, his hand still placed on the cold flesh of Caroline’s neck.
‘I’m sure I could. Let me call my colleague.’ Nicholls lifted his mouth to his walkie-talkie before pausing. ‘She is…?’
‘Yes, she’s alive, Nicholls, but we need a rescue team here as soon as feasibly possible.’
* * *
Thirty minutes later a face appeared at the roof opening above them. Lambert had never been more pleased to see the pudgy face of DS Bickland in his life. ‘Rescue team here,’ said the officer. ‘We’re trying to work out how to get down there.’
The rescue process was a difficult one. With the body of Marcus Jardine in the corner, the area was still a crime scene. The fire services had been deployed and were busy trying to find a way of hoisting Caroline’s body through the small opening in the cave wall, whilst a paramedic tried with no success to bring Caroline round.
Eventually the fire team lifted her out. Lambert watched her ascend with a growing sense of dread. Once she was safe he called for the team to winch him out as well. He couldn’t face traipsing back through the narrow corridors of the caves and didn’t want to let Caroline out of his sight.
Once out, he found himself standing in the corner of a field, surrounded in darkness. Bickland helped him out of the hole. ‘We had to move that,’ said the DS, pointing to a large boulder which had covered most of the hole.’
‘Where are we?’ asked Lambert.
‘Some field near Chislehurst. This opening isn’t supposed to exist.’
Caroline Jardine had been lifted into the back of an ambulance, which was making slow progress through the muddy field.
‘Where are we taking her?’ said Lambert.
‘Princess Royal.’
‘Set up some teams there. Who’s gone with her?’
‘Croft.’
‘I’m going to follow. You take charge here. We have a murder case below. I’m sure we’ve contaminated the area by now but manage the SOCOs and keep me updated.’
Lambert instructed one of the patrol car officers to drive him to the hospital. ‘Siren on and step on it,’ he instructed the officer. ‘I want to get there at the same time as her.’
As the officer sped through the country lanes, Lambert called Tillman. ‘We need an armed presence at the hospital. Someone went to all this trouble to have Caroline killed. As soon as they find out she’s alive they are bound to try again.’
‘Leave it with me,’ said Tillman, hanging up.
The driver glanced at Lambert, looking away when Lambert matched his gaze. They made good time and caught up with the ambulance as it headed into Accident and Emergency.
Lambert still had his gun in his jacket pocket. The case had affected him in ways he couldn’t imagine and carrying a gun was unwise when in the clutches of such emotion. It was a risk but he couldn’t act without it at the moment. He jumped from the car and surveyed the area as the ambulance doors opened.
‘Sir,’ said Croft, heading out of the ambulance first.
‘Has she regained consciousness yet?’ said Lambert.
‘Not yet. She’s severely dehydrated, as you would expect. They’ve been working on her non-stop since we left.’
Two paramedics carried Caroline off the ambulance on a gurney. She was connected to a drip feed and in the artificial glare of the A&E lights Lambert could see the full effect of the days of confinement. Her skin was ghostly pale, her clothes soaked in her own waste.
‘We have a room for her?’ asked Lambert.
‘Yes, sir. She’s going straight to intensive care.’
Lambert called over the officer who’d driven him to the hospital. ‘Follow me,’ he said. ‘You too, Croft.’
As a trio, they followed the paramedics into the building. Caroline was rushed through and was seen immediately by one of the A&E team, Dr Morgan. ‘We have a room on the fourth floor waiting for you,’ she said.
Croft walked side by side with the doctor, whilst Lambert took the rear, remaining on constant lookout for an attack. He only started to relax once Caroline was safely in intensive care and a team had been stationed outside her room.
Dr Morgan joined them outside the room after examining Caroline in full. ‘She’s a lucky lady. Any later and I think you would have been too late. She is severely dehydrated but I can’t see any significant trauma to her body. Obviously, we’ll keep on high alert but I would hope she regains consciousness in the next few hours.’
Lambert thanked the woman and instructed Croft to manage the officers who’d recently arrived to provide support. ‘I want this whole floor airtight,’ he said.
Tillman arrived an hour into his vigil. DCI Barnes, whose mood hadn’t lightened since Lambert had last seen him at the Manor, accompanied him. Lambert updated the pair on the situation, and the security he had in place.
‘Can I see her?’ asked Barnes.
Lambert hesitated. He didn’t want to antagonise the man. He understood what he must be going through, having lost colleagues before, but he didn’t want anyone seeing Caroline before him. ‘I’m afraid not. Doctor’s orders for the time being.’
Barnes looked at Tillman for confirmation and Lambert’s superior shrugged his shoulders. ‘It’s Lambert’s case,’ he said – his only words.
Barnes cursed under his breath and stormed down the corridor.
‘Touchy,’ said Tillman.
Lambert didn’t respond.
‘You think Jardine will have anything additional for us?’ asked Tillman, for once sensing the mood.
‘Let’s hope so. Even if it’s confirmation on Sinnott and Weaver,’ said Lambert.
Tillman nodded his head a few times. ‘You think there’s more?’
After witnessing the aftermath of Waverley Manor it was obvious the group behind the atrocities extended beyond the officer and the MP. Sinnott claimed never to have seen the Manor itself and they would probably never fully discover what Weaver knew about the place. ‘Too many unanswered questions for me at the moment,’ he said.
‘Matilda’s got her hands full at the Manor,’ said Tillman.
‘I’m not leaving here until Caroline is conscious.’
‘No one is asking you to. You’ve done well here, Lambert. Very well. Uncovering the Manor, finding Jardine. It’s another huge feather in your already brimming cap.’
It didn’t feel like it. Marcus Jardine was dead, as were Berry, Turner, and Hodge. And how could he consider anything a success after what he’d seen at Waverley Manor? That would never leave him, and he would do everything in his power to track down everyone responsible,
even if it took him the rest of his career.
A nurse left Caroline’s room and exchanged a nervous glance with them before heading off down the corridor. Lambert got to his feet and checked the small window into Caroline’s room. A second nurse was monitoring the various machines surrounding Caroline and didn’t look in any undue distress, so he returned to his seat.
Dr Morgan returned a few minutes later with the nervous-looking nurse in tow.
‘Everything OK?’ said Lambert.
‘Nothing to worry about. Give us some time,’ said the doctor, not making eye contact.
Lambert paced the corridor, waiting for Doctor Morgan to leave the room.
‘Would you sit down? You’re making me nervous,’ said Tillman.
Lambert was about to sit when Morgan opened the door. ‘Mrs Jardine is awake. I can only give you a couple of minutes with her.’
Lambert nodded. ‘Sir, I’d appreciate it if you kept guard,’ he said to Tillman, who didn’t respond beyond a slight raise of his eyebrows.
Caroline was still prone on the bed, lying to her right, but Lambert could make out a slight spark of colour in her eyes. ‘Caroline, my name is Michael Lambert. DCI Lambert. I was the one who found you.’
‘Teresa?’ said Caroline.
The word came out as a rasp, little more than air, but Lambert sensed the tragic hope and despair to the question. He knelt down so he was at her eye level. ‘Teresa is fine. I’ve met her. She’s a remarkable little girl.’
Caroline’s eyes watered as her lips curled upwards. ‘Barnes,’ she croaked.
‘DCI Barnes?’ said Lambert, confused.
‘Yes.’
‘He’s fine. He’s been desperate to find you.’
Caroline wriggled on the bed as if fighting to stay awake. Dr Morgan moved towards her and Caroline shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, every word a battle. ‘He’s the one you want.’
Chapter Fifty-Four
Lambert rubbed the back of his head as Caroline slipped back into sleep. ‘Is she OK?’ he asked.
‘She’s fine. She obviously needs the rest,’ said Dr Morgan.
