Calm, keep calm. Think rationally. Think of Cantelli, he might still be alive and if he is, then he needs your help to get out of here. What use are you to him as a quivering heap? Charlotte is relying on you. Barney could be in here somewhere within reach.
He emptied his lungs slowly. It did the trick. He wasn't sure how long it took, but gradually his heart rate settled down, though not to normal. This wasn't bloody normal. There was a noise to the right of him. Sharply he brought his head round, then wished he hadn't when a shaft of pain shot through him almost making him lose consciousness. A shape loomed out of the darkness.
'Let's see you, Kingsway,' he shouted, though his throat was dry and his voice hoarse.
A powerful torch swung full beam on Horton. He blinked and tried to snatch his head away from the glare, but it wouldn't go.
'You shouldn't have attacked me,' came the voice from the darkness. 'I'm sorry you've been involved.'
'What do you want? Forgiveness?' Horton snarled, but he recognized the whining tone of self-justification that was so familiar to him when hearing a confession to a crime.
The beam swung away and Horton watched Kingsway settle himself opposite, on the trolley that had brought him and Cantelli here. He quickly scanned the area and picked out the slumped body of Cantelli about nine feet from him. His heart plummeted to the depths of his being.
'Is he dead?' he asked in a flat resigned voice.
'He might be now.'
Horton clenched his fists and tried to leap up, but once again he was defeated by his bonds. He fell back deflated, but anger stirred within him, fuelling his determination to get out of here alive and feed Kingsway to the seagulls. He told himself there was still a chance that Cantelli was alive. Kingsway had said 'now' which meant he hadn't killed Cantelli outright. Horton clung to that hope. It was all he had. And it meant he had to find a way to overpower Kingsway or persuade him to give himself up.
'Why make things worse for yourself, Kingsway? Let us both go and I'll see that you get a fair trial. With a good solicitor you might not get long.'
But Kingsway didn't hear him. Almost regretfully he said, 'If she hadn't let that grinning idiot of a diver fool her, then none of this would have happened.'
Horton quickly saw the way Kingsway's mind was working. Here was a man seeking to apportion blame for his own crimes and shortcomings. Something Horton guessed Kingsway had done for most of his life. Nothing would ever be his fault. Perhaps if he appeared to understand and empathize with him, he could eventually talk his way out of this. But what had Farnsworth done to an old lady like Marjorie Kingsway? Sex wasn't the motive for his actions and neither was it love or success, but it could have been power and the type of power that came from exerting influence over a vulnerable person to give Farnsworth the money and possessions he craved.
Now, putting everything he had seen and learnt over the last few days together, Horton saw clearly what must have happened and he was beginning to understand where Nathan Lester fitted into this. He recalled Cheryl's words: she used to have a lovely big house in the country, in Surrey, with a swimming pool... And Haslemere, where Farnsworth had worked as an estate agent, was in Surrey.
'Did Farnsworth undervalue your mother's house?' he asked, making an effort to keep his tone mater-of-fact.
'Yes. He got Lester to pose as the buyer and then they sold it on for a big profit, which they split between them.'
That explained the thirty thousand pounds in Lester's bank account. Marjorie Kingsway probably wasn't their first victim or their last. How many others had they swindled? wondered Horton.
Kingsway said, 'And before that Farnsworth got Lester into my mother's house to value the antiques. He said they were worthless and then sold them for their proper value.'
That fitted too. Although Horton hadn't seen the items in Lester's shop close up, he'd seen enough in the man's house to know that some of it was valuable. He said, 'How do you know this?'
'Lester told me before he died.'
Horton took a breath. He was facing a man who had killed twice – Farnsworth and Lester – three times if Cantelli was dead. Horton took a deep breath and tried to still his pounding heart. It would be four if he couldn't find a way out of this.
Kingsway was clearly unbalanced and probably psychotic. Horton reckoned the only way to deal with him was to feign sympathy and understanding. Hostility would only make Kingsway clam up, or worse strike him unconscious and then leave him here to die. The thought didn't bear thinking about, so he shoved it aside and said, 'Where's Lester?'
'In here somewhere, along with his bicycle.'
Horton suppressed a shudder. He recalled the small, squirrel-faced man. He had been a criminal, yes, but Horton knew that it was because of Farnsworth's manipulative charm that Lester had committed the crimes against Marjorie Kingsway.
Kingsway continued. 'I phoned him on Thursday night and told him that I'd discovered an important wreck off the Isle of Wight. I knew he wouldn't be able to resist it just like Farnsworth couldn't. I met Lester here and gave him a swift karate blow to the throat, like I did with Farnsworth, and Lester was dead. I'd learnt how to dive and practised the martial arts when I was in the army.'
Horton guessed that Farnsworth's diving gloves and fins had also ended up in here. It would have been easy for Kingsway to have carried them over from Farnsworth's car which Kingsway had left parked in Southsea Marina opposite.
'But Daniel was different. I was sorry I had to kill him.'
Horton stared at Kingsway and suddenly saw that for once Marion Keynes had been telling the truth when she said that neither she nor her husband had killed Daniel Collins. The distraught features of Mr and Mrs Collins flashed through Horton's mind. Oh, he'd like to bring Kingsway to justice for their sake, though he knew it wouldn't alleviate the pain of their loss.
'He saw you hit your mother,' Horton said, realizing what must have happened.
'I just pushed her and she fell over. It was an accident.'
Horton didn't believe that for one moment. Or that it had been the only attack.
'I was upset because she kept whining on and on about how I wasn't her son,' Kingsway said. 'Daniel was there when it happened and he threatened to report me. I had to find a way to silence him. I knew he was crazy about diving, because he'd told me on one of my visits to the home. An idea suddenly came to me. I decided to play on the fact that my stupid mother thought Nick was her son. I spun Daniel a story that she was right. I told him that Nick was my half-brother and that we'd been estranged for years, but I was in the process of making it up with Nick. I promised I could get Daniel a place on the programme if he kept quiet. The stupid man nearly wet his pants.'
Horton's fists clenched behind him, angry at Kingsway's cruelty, but also at Daniel Collins's stupidity.
'On Christmas Eve I told Daniel I'd arranged a meeting with Farnsworth at the sailing centre,' Kingsway continued. 'I clocked in here, but no one knows whether I'm working or not, so I slipped out and drove there and met Daniel in the car park. I poured drink down his throat, he wasn't very strong, and I knew how to handle him. Then I put him in his car and drove it off Salterns Wharf...'
'Where you then slipped on the aqua lung and manoeuvred Daniel into the driving seat.'
Kingsway nodded. 'I couldn't take the chance that he might spoil everything.'
Kingsway rose. The torchlight swept away from Horton plunging him into darkness. He willed himself not to think of being underground. Then Kingsway put the light back on himself. Horton saw him run a tongue over his lips. Perhaps this tunnel was getting to him. Kingsway was a diver, he could tolerate the dark but being in the depths of the sea was very different from being under tons of earth.
'When did you decide to kill Farnsworth?' Horton asked, straining for any sound from Cantelli and hearing none.
'When I found my mother left in that dump to rot.'
But Horton knew Kingsway's anger and desire for revenge wasn't fuelled by his fee
lings for his mother. He hadn't been near her for years. No, he reckoned that Kingsway's sense of outrage had been driven by the fact that he'd come home broke, expecting to feed off his mother's money, and had discovered that not only had that gone, but so too had his inheritance.
'She never thought I was good enough,' Kingsway said, almost eager for Horton to understand. 'My father died when I was ten. He'd worked in London. He was a financial genius. I don't think she minded him dying. In fact it probably suited her. She was a frigid, hard cow. And she couldn't stand the sight of me. She packed me off to boarding school when I was four and didn't even want me home for the holidays. I spent them pushed between relatives, who didn't much like me either. She didn't care that I loathed that school.'
Oh, yes. Horton could see how Kingsway laid the blame for all his misfortunes on his childhood and predominantly his mother. Time was short. He had to do something. But what? Anything was preferable to being entombed. God, that word! It made him almost sick with fear. He shifted position and forced himself to concentrate on Kingsway.
'When I went into the army as an ordinary rank and diver she refused to have anything to do with me. Now do you blame me for not keeping in touch?'
Horton nodded as if he understood. His mouth was dry, his palms damp, his brain a whirl of thoughts. If only he could move, but he was tied up like a parcel.
'I owed her nothing. But she owed me. It was my money and I deserved it for all I'd suffered. It was a shock seeing her like that, dribbling and old, with her mind gone. She didn't know who I was. That didn't bother me much. I thought, OK, so she's got her punishment, but there should still be some money around. I couldn't work out how she had ended up in a place like that, when she could have afforded private nursing care. Angela Northwood told me that my mother had been moved into the Rest Haven from a more expensive retirement home because her medical condition had deteriorated and her money had run out. That didn't make sense to me. I began to make enquiries. Then I saw her watching that TV diving programme. Daniel Collins was in the room. Mum pointed at Farnsworth, got excited, and pushed me away. She babbled on about Nick being her son, not me.'
So Kingsway had been rejected again. 'Is that when you decided on revenge?' asked Horton.
'She deserved it,' Kingsway said with bitterness.
'And you discovered what Farnsworth had done to her.'
Kingsway leaned forward and said eagerly, 'I was justified in killing him and Lester. You can hardly blame me after what they did.'
What Farnsworth and Lester had done was criminal and they had deserved to be punished for preying on a feeble elderly lady, but Kingsway hadn't killed them out of love for his mother, but out of hatred of her. Even if he had killed out of love, it still wouldn't have justified his actions, but Horton knew that nothing would ever convince Kingsway of that.
Kingsway fell silent as though exhausted by his confession. Horton could hear the wind moaning through the tunnel, the scurrying rats and the dripping water, but then came another sound and one he hadn't noticed before. He struggled to identify it. It sounded like soft chirping noises, but not from any bird he'd ever heard. Had Kingsway heard it? Apparently not, he thought, dashing a glance at him. His expression showed he was deep in the past. His body was slumped almost as though it was drained of energy. He'd made his confession and lived through the emotions of the past few days and perhaps even his childhood. Soon Kingsway would leave. And he and Cantelli would be alone.
Horton tensed. Through the helter-skelter thoughts in his mind, suddenly and forcibly a memory struck him. He'd been in one of these tunnels with Emma. The guide had said something and Emma had shuddered and drawn closer to him. What was it? Horton knew it was important. Then it came to him. He'd talked about a rare bat roosting in the underground tunnels; he'd even mentioned its name – the long-eared grey bat. Could the noise of chittering be these bats? Even if it were, how could it help him and Barney? He glanced across at the inert bundle and with a heavy heart wondered if he was already too late. Then he heard another noise that sounded very much like a groan. His heart lifted. Dare he hope? Was it possible that Barney was still alive? Had he imagined that sound or merely wished it?
Anxiously he dashed a glance at Kingsway, praying he'd heard nothing. There was no sign that he had. If Barney was regaining consciousness, then Horton willed him to do it silently. He had to distract Kingsway's attention and the way to do that was to keep him talking.
'How did you kill Farnsworth, Steven?'
The use of Kingsway's first name and the gentleness of Horton's voice prodded Kingsway out of his reverie.
Pulling himself up, he said, 'I'd already found out that Nathan Lester kept an antiques shop. I followed him a few times and discovered his interest in diving and that he often visited the marine archaeological offices. I called into the main reception and asked if they had any vacancies. They were desperate for a night-time security officer. I'd lost my job on the oil rigs. They made me redundant.'
By the shiftiness in Kingsway's eyes, Horton doubted if that was the truth. More likely he'd been sacked for some misdemeanour. His employment record would be an interesting one to view, if Horton got the chance, and he might just get that if the plan that was taking shape in his mind came off.
'Go on,' he encouraged, shifting a couple of inches closer to Kingsway. He seemed not to notice.
'I was just working out how to get Farnsworth here, when I read that article in the newspaper on Monday afternoon, about the anonymous telephone calls. It said that Farnsworth was staying in the Queen's Hotel.'
So Horton hadn't been that far wrong; Farnsworth's publicity prank had helped to sign his death warrant.
'I drove to the Queen's Hotel on Tuesday and managed to waylay him,' Kingsway continued. 'He thought I wanted his autograph, but I told him that I'd found a wreck out by Dead Man's Fingers. I promised to tell him exactly where it was if he met me on Tuesday evening in front of the sailing centre. I said we had to be careful because I didn't want anyone else knowing about it. Farnsworth was late, but I waited. When he arrived I knocked him out, but I didn't kill him, not then. I stripped him naked and put him in one of the boats on the shore along with his diving suit, which he kept in the back of his car. I took the boat round to Oldham's Wharf. When Farnsworth came round I forced him, with the threat that I'd cut off his balls, to get into his diving gear. He tried to charm his way out, but he did as I asked. I told him why he had to die. He said he'd pay the money back but I didn't believe him. I struck a karate blow across his throat.'
'And you used the loader shovel truck to tip him into the pit where you laid him out.'
'Yes. I threw his fingers, the knife and his mobile phone into the sea on the way back to the sailing centre.'
'Why Oldham's Wharf, Steven?'
'I'd heard about Farnsworth's altercation with Oldham and thought it might implicate
him and throw the scent off me.'
'One thing puzzles me,' Horton said, easing his position and shuffling another few inches closer to Kingsway. 'Was it you who broke into Oldham's and moved that truck on Sunday night or early hours of Monday morning?'
Soon it would be time to strike. Horton prepared himself. His senses were stretched to breaking point. He knew that his timing had to be perfect. Cock this up and it would be the end for him and Barney. There was nothing to tell him when the exact time would be right to strike, only his instinct.
'Yes. I wanted to check I could get into the yard—'
Horton opened his mouth and roared as loud as he could.
Kingsway shot up startled, the torchlight flew around the cavern as Horton bellowed. His lungs were fit to bursting point. He had to be right. He steeled himself for the moment when the torch would come crashing down on his skull, or the karate chop would silence him forever.
Then suddenly they were all around them: bats with huge wings diving and squealing Horton ducked down instinctively, but they weren't interested in him. Startled by the bright
light that Kingsway was now waving about madly, they flapped against him causing him to screech and wave his arms around, the light was spinning like something in a disco and startling the bats even further.
The inert bundle to the left of Horton leapt up, grabbed Kingsway round the ankles and brought him crashing to the ground with a great cry of pain. The torch rolled out of Kingsway's grasp. Horton pulled himself up, jumped forward and sat down heavily on the man's arse. Cantelli wrenched Kingsway's arms behind his back, reached into his pocket and snapped the cuffs on. Then he picked up the torch.
'Had a nice nap?' Horton said with evident relief as Cantelli loosened his bonds.
Dead Man's Wharf Page 26
