Dead Man Walking

by Simon R. Green

  ‘Ready, spy girl,’ I said.

  I charged forward down the narrow corridor, not even trying to hide I was coming. Penny pounded along behind me. A dark figure emerged from an opening in one of the walls up ahead and ran for it. I chased after him, unable to make out more than just a dim shadowy figure that might have been anyone. I could have caught him easily enough, but I didn’t want to run on and leave Penny behind on her own. So I just chased the man through tunnel after tunnel, sticking on his tail, following the sound of his feet when I lost sight of him. Until he stopped suddenly, and screamed. A harsh, lost, despairing sound.

  The bad smell was very close now, and it was exactly what I’d thought it would be.

  I rounded a corner, and stopped before an opening in the tunnel wall. Just a dark hole, where the smell was coming from. Dark enough to hide anything. I went in, and found myself in a small stone chamber. My eyes adjusted to the gloom almost immediately, and I saw why the man ahead of me had screamed. The room might have started out as a priest hole, but now someone was using it to dump bodies.

  Penny caught up with me, breathing hard, and stepped into the room with me. I heard her shocked gasp, but I didn’t look away. There was no light bulb in the room, only what dim illumination spilled in from the tunnel. Which was just as well. The scene was hard enough to look at, as it was.

  The dark stone walls and filthy stone floor were splashed with blood. Some of it still drying. There were long bloody scuff marks, where the bodies had been dragged across the floor. This was a murderer’s place, steeped in horror and the terrible weight of desires indulged. A storage room for victims. And yet not just a holding room, but somewhere the murderer could come to gloat and savour what he had done. Death hung heavily on the air, a presence in itself.

  Baxter sat propped up against the opposite wall, his head hanging down over the bloody wound in his chest. His eyes stared helplessly back at me, as though trying to understand how he could have ended up in such a terrible place. Redd’s headless corpse sat next to him, only recognizable by his bloodstained jacket. The two of them sat almost companionably close together. Not separated, even in death.

  The headless body of Alice Hayley was sitting propped up against the left-hand wall, her smart suit soaked in gore. And sitting facing her, against the right-hand wall, Parker. Indisputably dead, with the single bloodstain high up on his chest. His eyes drooping and his mouth hanging open. He seemed such a small broken thing, too insignificant to have been the cause of so much blood and horror.

  His being unkillable was just another story, after all.

  There were beetles moving back and forth on the floor, and around the bodies. Along with clear signs that rats had been here too, gnawing at the bodies. Our arrival had scared them off, but they would be back.

  Doyle was kneeling before Hayley’s headless body. He was the one we’d been chasing through the tunnels. He was still breathing hard, though mostly from harsh emotions now. He knelt before the dead body of the woman who had changed his life for good and bad, but he wasn’t crying. And when I stepped cautiously forward, he didn’t look round. Penny moved with me, holding my arm tightly; as much to comfort herself as me.

  ‘Dear God!’ she murmured. ‘Are you sure we’re not dealing with a monster after all, Ishmael?’

  ‘Men can be monsters,’ I said. ‘This is how the killer made the bodies disappear. This is why I couldn’t detect any trace of them.’

  ‘So it was him?’ said Penny. ‘It was Doyle?’

  ‘Of course not,’ I said. ‘Look at him. Look at what finding this place has done to him.’

  I moved across to stand before Parker’s body, and placed two fingertips against the side of his neck.

  ‘Judging by body temperature, he’s been dead for some time,’ I said, taking my hand away. ‘So there’s no way he could ever have been walking around the Lodge. He was murdered, and he stayed murdered.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ said Penny.

  I prodded Parker’s chest with one finger, and the body rocked stiffly back and forth for a moment.

  ‘Pretty sure,’ I said.

  Penny looked at the headless bodies, her mouth a tight grimace of shock and outrage.

  ‘Whoever did this … must have been soaked in blood. We’d have noticed.’

  ‘Unless they were wearing protective clothing,’ I said. I gestured at a discarded coat and heavy gloves, soaked in dried blood, piled up in a corner. There was a long knife too, caked with blood from hilt to tip.

  ‘What kind of man could do this?’ said Penny.

  ‘A very determined one,’ I said.

  I moved over to Doyle and he stood up to face me. His eyes were dry, and his gaze was steady. He was back in control again. What he’d found in this room had forced shock and grief aside.

  ‘Who did this?’ he said. His voice was full of cold focused anger.

  ‘Come outside into the tunnel and the light,’ I said. ‘This isn’t a place for people to talk.’

  He nodded briefly and shot Hayley’s headless body one last look as though saying goodbye, before allowing me to lead him out of the room full of death. Penny was already outside in the corridor, one hand clapped over her mouth and nose so she could breathe through her fingers. Doyle met my gaze squarely. Ready to demand answers, if necessary.

  ‘Who did this?’

  ‘You don’t think it was me?’ I said.

  ‘Of course not,’ said Doyle. ‘Now I’m thinking straight, I know it couldn’t have been you. Sorry about the needle.’

  ‘Sorry about the kick,’ said Penny.

  Doyle didn’t even look at her.

  ‘How did you end up here?’ I said.

  ‘I thought I’d better leave, after the sedative didn’t work,’ said Doyle. ‘And before Miss Belcourt did something even worse to me. Once I was off on my own and thinking clearly again, Martin’s voice came to me. He said he’d found a secret opening in one of the walls, and asked me to check it out.’ He smiled briefly, humourlessly. ‘I got lost and ended up here. Almost as though something, or someone, called me here … Do you know who’s responsible for all of this?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘You’ve finally got it all worked out, haven’t you?’ said Penny.

  ‘Most of it,’ I said. ‘I’ve been putting the pieces together for a while now. But it’s all rather obvious, when you think about it. The computers showed evidence of ghosts in Ringstone Lodge even though I never saw any. The computers showed Parker walking around even though he clearly wasn’t. The computer screens kept breaking down every time they might have proved useful. And the computers said Martin never left his security centre. But who was in charge of the computers?’

  ‘Martin!’ said Penny. ‘It was him!’

  ‘Right from the beginning,’ I said. ‘He manufactured all those ghostly images, and used them to distract us. You heard him speak to us through the hidden microphones; it was just as easy for him to broadcast spooky sounds as well, such as footsteps and knockings. Which is why I never felt any physical vibrations accompanying them. They were all just distractions. To occupy our minds and keep us from thinking about the one thing that really mattered: how could Parker have been killed inside a cell that was never unlocked. Well, who said it hadn’t been unlocked? The computers. Because that’s what Martin told them to say. And it was Martin who unlocked the cell and went in to talk with Parker, who had no reason to fear a simple young techie.’

  ‘The cameras only shut down because he shut them down!’ said Penny. ‘There’s never been anything wrong with the systems!’

  ‘When we thought he was safely locked up in the security centre, he was using the hidden tunnels to run around killing people,’ I said. ‘Then to hide the bodies. And because his victims never saw Martin as a threat, none of them ever defended themselves. Until it was too late.’

  ‘What made you suspect him?’ said Doyle.

  ‘Parker’s disappearance on the stairs. That was the
clincher. It was just too much to accept. Martin said he saw Parker on his screens and sent me chasing back and forth after him. But I never saw Parker once. His disappearance, between the top and bottom of the stairs, was simply impossible.’

  ‘I said that!’ said Penny.

  ‘So you did,’ I said. ‘And it started me thinking. If you ruled out the supernatural explanation, what did that leave?’

  ‘Martin was lying to you …’ said Penny.

  ‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘If he was lying about that, what else might he be lying about?’

  ‘And we trusted him to protect us,’ said Penny. ‘The little rat-shit!’

  ‘I’ll have his balls,’ said Doyle. ‘But why has he been doing all this?’

  ‘I think I know,’ I said. ‘But I need to ask him a few questions to be certain.’

  ‘Then let’s go talk to the man,’ said Doyle.

  ‘Talk?’ said Penny.

  ‘Talk first,’ said Doyle.

  EIGHT

  A Good Judge of Character

  ‘First things first,’ said Penny. ‘How are we going to get out of these tunnels? We’ve twisted and turned so much I haven’t a clue where I am inside the Lodge. Never mind how far we’ve come from the entrance.’

  ‘We’re not actually inside the Lodge any more,’ I said. ‘We’re underneath it. There’s no way you could fit all these tunnels and rooms inside the infrastructure of the house, hollow walls or not. When we climbed down that stone chimney, it took us down past the house and into a maze of connecting passageways carved out underneath.’

  ‘I wonder which came first,’ said Penny, ‘the maze or the Lodge. Did someone create the tunnels first, for some reason, and then build a house over them to conceal them? Or did they start with the Lodge and excavate the cellars later, when they had a need for them?’

  ‘Why are you looking to me for an answer?’ I said. ‘I read the same family history you did, and there was nothing in there about any of this.’

  ‘I was just wondering!’ said Penny.

  ‘Right now,’ I said, ‘All we have to do is find another chimney to take us back up. Wherever it comes out, there’s bound to be an exit nearby.’

  ‘You have to love his optimism,’ Penny said to Doyle. ‘It’s either that or scream a lot and tear your hair out.’

  ‘It’s like we’re in the dark subconscious of the house,’ said Doyle. ‘Where all the really bad thoughts take place.’

  ‘You can overthink these things,’ I said. ‘Follow me.’

  I was sure I remembered passing a chimney earlier, and it didn’t take me long to find it again. Just a ragged hole in the stone ceiling that became a dark and narrow shaft with more of the steel hoops hammered into the wall to serve as a ladder. I had to boost Penny and Doyle up into the chimney, then jump up after them.

  There were no electric lights anywhere in the chimney. The stone channel was claustrophobically tight, growing steadily darker the higher we climbed. The air was close and foul, and so thick with dust we were all coughing harshly. The steel hoops jerked unsteadily under my hands, and rocked under my feet as though they might tear themselves out of the old stone at any moment. I put my faith in a rapid ascent, and urged the others on with loud encouragement and harsh words.

  We soon left the tunnel’s light behind, and the dark of the chimney closed in around us. Trapped, confined, and almost suffocating on the rotten air, with no bearings left except up and down and no idea how far we’d climbed or how much further there was to go. At least there was a gleam of light at the top of the chimney, giving us something to head for.

  Doyle suddenly panicked and froze in place. I hit his shoes with my head as I came up after him, and he almost screamed.

  ‘I can’t do this!’ he said shrilly. ‘The rungs are coming loose, I can feel it. If I keep climbing, I’ll fall. I know it! We have to go back down!’

  ‘We can’t,’ I said. ‘Our only way out is to go up.’

  ‘Come on, Doctor Doyle,’ Penny called down. ‘It can’t be much further.’

  ‘I’m not moving!’ said Doyle. ‘It’s not safe!’

  I looked up, but I could barely make him out. Just a darker patch in the general gloom. There was no way past him.

  ‘You can do it,’ I said. ‘And you’re going to start right now, because if you don’t … I’m right beneath you and I will do something to your undercarriage that will make Penny’s kick feel like a fond memory. So move!’

  Doyle started climbing again. I stuck close behind him, making lots of noise as I climbed the steel rungs so he knew how close I was.

  Not long after, I heard Penny cry out happily as she reached the top of the shaft. She hauled herself up and out. Doyle climbed out after her, and I hurried up after them. They helped pull me out, into a dimly lit stone tunnel. The relatively clear air was a relief after the foul atmosphere of the chimney, and we all took some time to cough and hack until our throats were clear again. Doyle looked at me reproachfully.

  ‘There was no need for threats like that.’

  ‘Yes there was,’ I said. ‘You’ll thank me later.’

  ‘I really doubt it,’ said Doyle.

  A concealed door in the wall opposite was easy enough to spot now I knew what I was looking for. I forced it open, and we stumbled out into the warm and comforting light of the entrance hall. We all breathed deeply, glad of some fresh air and a chance to shake the oppression of the tunnels out of our heads. It felt good to be out in a wide open space again.

  We’d emerged halfway between the stairs and the security centre. There was no one else about. It was all very still and very quiet. As though someone was watching us, and waiting to see what we would do.

  ‘I knew there had to be a door somewhere around here,’ I said. ‘So Martin could get to it easily from the centre.’

  ‘I want to see Martin,’ said Doyle. ‘I have things to say to him.’

  ‘I’m sure you do,’ I said. ‘But not yet. First, I need you to go upstairs and fetch MacKay. He’s having a nice lie-down in my room, right at the end of the corridor. You’ll need this to open the door.’

  I fumbled in my pocket for MacKay’s master key and handed it to Doyle. He looked dubiously at the plastic key card.

  ‘You’re sending me off on my own?’

  ‘There’s no one left in the house to threaten you,’ I said. ‘You’ll be fine.’

  ‘What do we need MacKay for?’

  ‘Getting in to see Martin won’t be easy,’ I said. ‘He’s bound to have sealed himself inside the centre and disabled all the usual measures that would let us override the locks from outside. Hopefully MacKay will know how to get around that. So, off you go and wake him up. He might be sleeping a bit deeply, so don’t be afraid to give him a good shake. Though you might want to step back quickly afterwards.’

  Doyle nodded stiffly, started towards the stairs, and then stopped abruptly.

  ‘I think … you’d better come and take a look at this.’

  Something in his voice had me moving immediately, with Penny right there beside me. We joined Doyle at the foot of the stairs, and I saw immediately what had stopped him. The two severed heads were gone. Nothing left but bloody stains on the bottom step to show where Redd and Hayley’s heads had rested. I quickly looked around the entrance hall, but there was no sign of them anywhere.

  ‘He’s taken them,’ said Doyle. ‘Why would he do that?’

  ‘He’s still playing tricks, ‘I said. ‘Trying to scare us. He doesn’t know what we know about him now.’

  ‘You’re sure this is all down to Martin?’ Penny said quietly. ‘There couldn’t be … something else going on in the Lodge?’

  ‘You saw the chamber down below,’ I said. ‘And what was in it. That’s horror enough for any house. Doctor Doyle, go upstairs and wake MacKay. Penny and I will deal with this.’

  ‘Don’t kill Martin until I get back,’ said Doyle. ‘I want to be there when he dies. I need to see it happen.’ />
  He set off up the stairs, not looking back. I watched until he was almost at the top and well out of earshot before I turned to Penny.

  ‘He’s changed.’

  ‘He’s been through a lot,’ said Penny. ‘Do we really need MacKay?’

  ‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘But I don’t think Doyle is in the right frame of mind to confront Martin. He might just kill him out of hand. Which is understandable, but not necessarily in everyone’s best interests. By the time Doyle’s got MacKay up on his feet and taking an interest again and got him back down here, hopefully the good doctor will have calmed down a little.’

  ‘Would you be calm if Martin had killed me?’ said Penny.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘But I wouldn’t kill him. Not while there were still things I needed from him. I’ve learned self-control the hard way.’

  ‘Would Martin’s death really be such a bad thing?’ said Penny. ‘After everything he’s done? After what we saw in that room?’

  ‘We need information from him,’ I said patiently. ‘In particular, whatever Parker might have shared with him concerning traitors inside the Organization. I’d hate to think all those secrets were lost. And anyway, we’re in the spy game, Penny, not the assassination game.’

  ‘You’ve killed people,’ said Penny. Not accusing, just making a point.

  ‘It’s not good to kill people just because we think they need killing,’ I said. ‘That’s a hard road to start down. It leads to men like Parker. It’s easy to find reasons to kill people, but the more often you do it the easier it becomes to find reasons to let you do what you want to do. It should never be easy to kill people.’

  ‘This is experience talking, isn’t it?’ said Penny.

  ‘I’ve had a lot of experience,’ I said.

  As we approached the security centre, I wasn’t surprised to see the heavy steel door was closed. No welcome for us this time. I knocked on the door politely, but it stayed shut. I looked it over carefully.

  ‘He must know we’re out here,’ said Penny.

  ‘He always knows where we are,’ I said. ‘The cameras never shut down. He just said they did.’