“Shut up. You must be quiet or we’ll be in trouble. If they hear us what do you think they’ll do?”
Onur was struggling and Mary had difficulty restraining him, but as the logic of what she said slowly sunk in he seemed to realise she was right and stopped.
“My wife is behind the screen Mary. If we have no hope of leaving here I at least want to see my family again, do you understand?” He said the last words as he turned his back to her. Onur was convinced he could find a way through. He turned his attention to the wall, tapping gently. The wall had been set in some kind of rough cast material but the surface itself did not feel solid. “It’s a hollow wall made to look stronger than it is.”
Onur suddenly disappeared back into the gloom. “Where are you going?” Mary said, scrabbling to pick up the phone, which was lying on the floor shining upwards, before the timing mechanism kicked in and they were plunged back into darkness. Onur was on the mattress. He felt around and it wasn’t long before he found what he was looking for. The material was ancient and damp and not difficult to tear.
“We can use this to get through.” Onur tore away the padding and ripped out one of the rusting springs. He cursed as the jagged end ripped through his index finger, the warm blood mingling with the metal. Returning to his task another spring was released and handed to Mary.
“Use this to scrape away the plaster, use the hook end and maybe we can get through.”
Mary nodded and they got to work.
“Well thanks for the lift,” Eric said, turning to the two detectives and smiling, “I’ll need to be getting to work, busy day and all that.”
Arbogast just stared at him, “While we are here maybe we could have a look around?”
Eric looked at Arbogast then Ying, his eyes flickering between the two of them looking for a sign, something to tell him everything was still OK. “Really Detective I’m a busy man, some other time maybe.” He turned away and stood with one leg on the first of the three small wooden steps which led into the caravan. His hand pushed down on the metal handle and the door quivered open, held in place by the nervous hand of its owner.
“Well we’re here now Mr Sanderson,” Rosalind said, “so if it’s all the same we’ll just have a nosey, no harm done.” Rosalind gave Sanderson one of her most genuine smiles before starting to make her way towards the shower block behind the caravan.
Casting a look around Sanderson could see that Karim was in the caravan, staring straight at him, gun in hand. He nodded at him through the window and Sanderson knew what to do.
“OK, have it your way. Let’s have a look.” He let go of the door handle and it clicked back into place, “I’ll come with you.”
The three of them made their way to the shower block when Arbogast broke off and doubled back. “I’ll just have a look around the house.”
“It’s not safe, you can see it’s moved these last weeks. It’s the thaw.”
“I’m a big boy Mr Sanderson so don’t you worry, I’ll be fine. If you would be so kind as to assist my colleague I’d be forever in your debt.” Sanderson could only watch as he ambled over to the old house.
Rosalind stopped at the doorway and looked into the shower block where she could see the outline of the hatch from the dirt which had been disturbed.
“It’s been a while since this place saw any detergent.” she said, looking round to see a rather anxious looking host.
“You know we don’t use it anymore.”
“We?”
“The family, me I suppose I meant.”
“Yes you don’t see much of your daughter these days do you Mr Sanderson. Not too close anymore are you. I’m sure you must miss her.”
“Not really. We don’t get on.”
“I seem to remember a lot of fuss here at the farm a while back. A lot of talk about abduction and sexual abuse, none of it proved of course but shit sticks doesn’t it?” Rosalind turned and smiled at Eric Sanderson, watching to see what his reaction would be. Perhaps he would look away, tell her something with his eyes. But if there were clues to be had from body language then no-one had told Eric Sanderson who was looking right past her, staring at the hatch.
“Your daughter talked of a ‘secret place’ where it all happened. It doesn’t seem those tales she told ever left her and look at the mess she’s in now. She’s mixed up in a lot of trouble. She assaulted a colleague of mine. DS Reid is in a bad way – you met her of course – nice girl. Looks like it could be touch and go with her. It would be very bad news if she didn’t pull through wouldn’t it?” The question came as Rosalind crouched down looking for a way to open the hatch. “And then there’s the past. It’s never far away you know. Just open up one door and bang – there it is. Back in the 80s Eric, when all those policemen were here the last time – they didn’t find anything, did they? No secret hideaway. But then we’re a stupid lot really aren’t we.” Scraping and pulling Rosalind found what she was looking for. Pushing down the tile popped up to reveal the steel handle below. She lifted up the horseshoe shaped ring, “Well well, look what I’ve found.”
By the time she looked up again Sanderson was already on her.
Karim watched from the safe haven of the caravan as the detective circled the house looking for a way in. He knew there was only one easy option so when he vanished from sight Karim came out of hiding and followed. ‘I hope you like surprises Inspector.’
It was slow work and hard going but Mary and Onur were making good progress. Between them they had uncovered an area of around four square feet. Their hands had been ripped apart by the rough wall so they had tied strips of the sodden mattress around their knuckles, which acted as makeshift gloves. Behind the first layer there was more plasterboard. Onur was trying to punch his way through and his skin started to tear from his knuckles.
“I can feel it give way.”
Onur was sweating through a lack of fresh air, and was dirty from the dust which had engulfed their space. Finally his hand broke through, grasping at thin air before coming to rest on another wall at the other side. Slowly but surely the wall gave way. Onur stopped scraping; his hands cut to ribbons. They had uncovered a large section.
“It’ll be enough to get through,” Mary said.
Nodding Onur started to kick at the other side, “Prop me up.”
Mary pushed hard on Onur’s back and he kicked with all his strength, his thick steel toe capped work boots pounding away at the plaster, which crumbled under the force.
Hanom had woken under a cloud. She felt sick. She had vomited and was shivering, unable to think. ‘Where am I?’ Every time he came she passed out. She ached all over, and could no longer see out of one eye. She touched the orb but it felt soft and mushy to her probing fingers. Slowly, she pushed herself back against the wall and raised herself into the sitting position. “Where am I?” This time she said it out loud and then she heard the voices. She held her breath and listened. She struggled to make out the words but there was someone there. This had never happened before, always the light came and then the blackouts. The door shook and she gasped, ‘Not again, not again, not again,’ she chanted, hugging herself and waiting for the inevitable. ‘Why won’t it open?’ Hanom tried to focus on the door and then she saw the light, a green glow underneath it and then voices, scared voices. Crawling to the door she hoped for the impossible, for relief, “Beni saliver,” she cried. It had sounded like her husband but it couldn’t be – it must be her mind playing tricks on her. She knew the bastard Karim was her captor but if it was him surely he would just use the key. After a time the crashing began, not from the door but the wall. There was nothing at first but slowly the noise became louder. Then her small room filled with dust and debris as the wall crumbled away. She buried her face in what remained of her clothes, trying to breathe. She was terrified of what might happen – of what new terror might await her.
“Got it, we’re through.”
Onur crawled through the hole but could see nothing in the darkne
ss, “Pass me the phone.” Mary slid the handset over to him. Onur sat up and pressed the keys, bringing light to the new room.
“Hanom – Hanom it’s me, your husband. It’s Onur my darling. Are you here?”
He moved forward with one hand holding the phone, the other trying to feel for a sign of life. Then he found her, shivering, bloody and abused, but alive.
“Hanom,” he said, placing his hand on her leg, caressing it.
This couldn’t be true thought Hanom. She screamed, her arms and legs thrashing, resisting, “Beni saliver, beni saliver,” she cried as Onur forced his arms around her and held her tightly.
“Kovan is here,” Hanom said eventually through her tears, “but I have failed her, failed her so badly. I sat here and listened to her screams as that beast attacked her but I could do nothing.”
Mary say quietly and watched determined that if she ever got the chance she would tear her father limb from limb. ‘All I need is a second, just one second and I’ll rid this world of his twisted depravity’.
Rosalind’s head hit the wall and cracked off the tiles. Sanderson had kicked her in the head, with the force of it sending a spear of pain through her body. If the blow had landed on her windpipe she might have died but it had caught her around the jaw. Winded and wounded she lay on the ground, unable to react.
“I’ve had about enough of you now Detective. I asked you to leave but you had to look.”
Rosalind turned her head. The world seemed to have shifted 90 degrees south and she could only watch as the hatch she had discovered only seconds ago was fully opened.
“I’m sorry it has to be like this but I’m afraid you’ve left me no choice. People just won’t let the past be. I know that my habits might not be to everyone’s taste but I have never killed anyone. No-one died Detective.”
Rosalind was moving now, crawling across the room, but Sanderson grabbed her legs and pulled her into position. She tried to reach out but couldn’t seem to control herself. She was thinking, though, coming back to her senses but it was too late. Sanderson spun her round and then pushed her legs over the hatch so that they hung over the edge. She could feel herself being hoisted into a sitting position when he whispered in her ear.
“I really am sorry it has to be like this but I think you’ve worked your last case.”
Rosalind could feel his breath on her neck, shuddered as she heard him breathe in her scent. She was coming round now and sensed she had a chance.
“Goodbye Inspector,” he said kissing her softly below the ear, “A final present for your journey.” Rosalind’s mouth opened in a silent scream as he punched hard on her back. She struggled to turn around but then the foot came, pushing against her back. She fell. Turning in midair Rosalind tried in vain to reach out for something, anything to keep her from falling. But she could not move fast enough and when the bottom arrived unannounced the world went black. The hatch closed. She was alone.
Sanderson stood and looked at the hatch. There was no going back. It wasn’t going well but he still had options. Closing the door and wedging it shut he made his way back to the caravan. He needed to speak to Karim. They would need to deal with Arbogast – the meddling bastard had caused enough trouble. Sanderson was glad the DI wasn’t armed as that meant Arbogast was already at a disadvantage. Sanderson opened the door, expecting to see his partner but he had gone. Looking over towards the house he thought he saw movement and realised that it might not be so difficult to resolve this situation as he had feared.
Arbogast entered the house through the back door, the only one that was open, the key still in its lock. He trod carefully, cautious of the building’s shifting foundations. He checked upstairs first. There were signs the building had been used recently. ‘They must be here somewhere.’ Satisfied that there was no-one in the upper floors he found himself at the head of the staircase which led down to the basement. Arbogast had his back to the wall as he made his way down, avoiding any creaks and groans from the warped and decaying structure. The two rooms were empty. One door was torn to shreds and a thick film of fresh sawdust carpeted the stone floor. Arbogast stood and looked around, trying to figure out what had happened when he heard a scraping from upstairs. He had company. Arbogast found a length of wood stacked at the back of the room and tried it for weight. ‘Right now would be a good time for backup – why did we send away the guys in the patrol car?’ Making his way back up to the ground floor he peered round the timber frame of the basement door and looked around. He saw nothing but his nose twitched at the scent of cigarette smoke. The basement opened up into the hall. Directly across from the door he could see into what must have been the living room. On a table sat an ashtray holding a smouldering cigarette, the smoke swirling up in the crisp winter air. Holding his makeshift club like a baseball bat Arbogast looked left and right as he made his way across the hall and over to the living room, ready to strike. But again he was disappointed to find the room empty and was surprised when he heard the click behind him.
“It’s loaded Detective so don’t turn around.”
Arbogast didn’t move. He recognised the voice. It was familiar – familiar, but different, and in no way friendly.
Sanderson went to his guest’s bedroom and found the metal briefcase under his bed. One gun was missing. Checking the remaining Glock was loaded he went back to the lounge and slid back the table. He went through the hatch and down the ladder, knowing this time would be more difficult. When he opened the door to the room his vision was obscured by the small particles of dust from the rubble, which scratched at his throat as he inhaled. His heart beat quickly as the adrenalin took over. He moved forward with gun in hand ready to act, peering into the murky space, trying to find them.
“Where are you? Better come out now.”
Sanderson saw the hole in the wall and laughed, “Have you burrowed your way back to happiness Onur? You always did like to tunnel.”
Sanderson took out his keys and opened the metal sliding door. This was his proudest achievement, this secret place and he would not give it up. The door opened. There was no light in the room so Sanderson moved to shine his torch when he saw a dim glow in the background. He stopped for a second and could see the outline of three people huddled in the darkness and then a voice rang out that he had not heard in a long while.
“This is for you, daddy dearest.”
Sanderson was clearly visible with the bright naked bulb from the hall lighting up his silhouette from behind. Mary hurled the phone at him. Eric noticed the dim green light swinging into vision. The phone struck him on the forehead and he swore as he staggered back two steps but they were on him before he knew what had happened.
23
Eric saw the light flicker, getting closer with every spin. When the crack came he knew that he had played the situation all wrong. The mobile phone struck Sanderson on the forehead, between his eyes, causing him to drop his torch. The metal clattered on the concrete floor and the light went out. His reflex had been to shoot, but in the dark his senses were out of kilter and his aim was wild. The bullet sank into the concrete wall as screams of retribution filled his ears.
Mary knew it was her father, she knew his stench and she knew she would only get one chance. So many times she had been a prisoner here. So many times the hatch had opened and the light had blinded her before the horror began. ‘So many times before. But not today, and never again.’
Mary could see her father quite clearly. There could be no mistaking it was him. He had a torch in one hand while the other was masked from view. In desperation she threw the phone. With all her strength she hurled the handset at him, her mind watching in slow motion as the handset pirouetted through the murky air, sailing towards its target. She snapped to when she saw the torch drop and ran screaming at him. She knew she was not alone and this time was going to be different. This time she was calling the shots. This time it ended.
Arbogast turned around and he found himself looking at a familiar face.
>
“Onur?”
“Who I am is unimportant. What you need to realise is that your investigation is now officially over.”
Arbogast realised he was going to have to work with limited options. He decided to play it safe.
“I only need to find the girl. I can make the rest disappear.”
From the back of the house he heard a noise.
“The girl?”
Karim nodded, “And so you see that you have found the girl. Congratulations Inspector but this was never a case that was going to be solved. It can only end one way and that way, I am afraid, will not be good for you.”
Arbogast looked around and realised he might not leave this room and that no amount of logic would save him. All Arbogast could see was the gun aimed straight at him, the dark nose of the barrel pointing to the end of the line. When the shot rang out he went into an involuntary spasm, closing his eyes and waiting for the sharp pain he knew was coming. Arbogast stood with clenched fists and white knuckles, his head angled away from the gun as if that futile gesture might have saved him, but nothing happened. The shot had been from outside. When he opened his eyes it was just in time to see the gun nose flare, this time it was closer to home.
***
John Madoch stood looking out over the Clyde. This venture with Sanderson and Karim was starting to become rather messy. He had got involved as a favour to his colleagues in Turkey but it was supposed to have been relatively straight forward. Madoch knew that it was time to get rid of Sanderson, while his benefactor needed to dispose of a renegade operator. Sanderson’s daughter popping up by accident had been the icing on the cake. The snow had caused problems and the operation had spiralled slowly out of control ever since the first flake dropped slowly to earth. John Madoch went inside and sat at his desk, running his hand along the 1930s mahogany as if checking for imperfections. He picked up the phone and dialled.
Wilderness (Arbogast trilogy) Page 22
