by Clare Revell
“What?” Astonishment ran through him. “I didn’t do anything. Simply opened it in the sunlight.”
Lou laid it down. “This is incredible. The ink is darkening as we watch.” She began taking more photographs. Excitement rippled in her voice. “The ink must have been activated by sunlight, perhaps in the same way lemon juice ink is.”
“I thought that was just in spy movies,” Zach said.
“No, it’s very real.” Lou studied the book.
“Let me see.” Evan reached for the book, ignoring the phone as it rang.
Ira picked up the handset. “Evan Close’s phone.”
Evan flipped through the book. “The rest of it is still blank.”
“Give it time,” Lou said. “Each page will have to be exposed separately and then photographed several times in case the ink fades again.”
“Sir,” Ira held the phone out to him. “You have to take this.”
“I’m busy.”
“It’s the dam. You need to take this call.”
Evan’s stomach pitted, and he lifted the phone. “Close.”
“You need to get down here, boss.” Words tumbled rapidly from the normally unflappable Ralph. “Bring Dr. Fitzgerald. There’s something you need to see.” He paused and then swore. “However, I would suggest that you first turn on the BBC News. Then get here as fast as you can.”
The line went dead.
Swallowing the rising bile, Evan strode to the wide screen TV on the wall and switched it on. He flicked to channel 503.
“—and as you can see the remains of the villages of Abernay and Finlay are clearly visible,” the reporters voice spoke over the images of the lake. “As is the huge crack in the side of the dam. So far there has been no comment from local landowner, Evan Close, although a team from his engineering company, Xenon, are working on the dam as I speak. An amber warning has been issued and a low level evacuation of the surrounding area is underway.”
A dozen swear words filled Evan’s mind, but he managed not to let them spill from his lips. “I’d better go.”
“I’m coming with you,” Lou said firmly. “I need to get all this on film for the records.”
“Not alone,” Jack told her. “I promised your mom I wouldn’t let you out of my sight.”
“I don’t care who comes, but we need to go now.” Evan stretched out a hand, his fingers pausing as the reporter spoke again.
“I’m joined now by archaeologist in charge of the dig here, Monty Sparrow, VC of the Sparrow Foundation. Mr. Sparrow, can you tell us what happened here?”
“It’s quite simple. The explosions both at the power plant and here were due to the negligence, and deliberate acts of sabotage, by my former colleague, Dr. Louisa Fitzgerald. Another colleague, AJ Wilcox died as a direct result of that negligence.” He pointed behind him at the dam. “As you can see, the potential flooding of the valley and deaths of everyone downstream will also be a result of her actions.”
Evan clicked off the TV and stared at Lou. He was tempted to offer to punch out Monty’s lights but had the feeling her father would want first dibs on that one.
She jumped to her feet, hand over her mouth, no colour in her face whatsoever.
“Lou, we all know who was at fault here.”
Her hand dropped to her side, and she swallowed hard. “Yeah. Me.”
34
Lou didn’t speak on the way to the dam. If she did, she’d throw up. Her stomach was in knots. Her eyes stung, and she wanted to run. Run so far away that no one would ever find her. Although she knew from bitter experience that running away didn’t help, it only succeeded in making the situation so much worse; she didn’t care. She didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to face what she knew would greet her at the dam.
Varian had succeeded in his threat. He’d discredited her in a very vile, public way and ensured she’d never work as an archaeologist again. The phone in her pocket chirped. She ignored it and when the caller finally rang off, she chucked the handset under the seat in front of her.
Jack’s phone rang. “Fitzgerald…Yeah, Jim, she’s here.” He held out the phone. “It’s for you.”
Lou shook her head, the lump in her throat and ache in her heart growing. She didn’t want Jim’s sympathy. Just the sound of his voice would cause the flood of tears she was barely containing, to fall.
“Sorry, mate, she doesn’t want to talk right now. Sure, I will.” He tucked the phone away.
As they turned off the main road, she shifted her gaze to the window, staring out at the scenery. It was crazy. She’d called Jack Dad for years, but he’d always be Jack in every other way bar name. Closing her eyes, she could see him the day they’d first met in Cornwall and again on the beach on Agrihan where he’d saved her life.
Maybe he should have let her die.
Jack pinched her arm, and she glared at him. “I know that look, kiddo,” he said in that tone she hated. The one that meant she was in for a lecture.
“Can’t I even have one second of self-pity?”
“No. It isn’t good for you.”
She folded her arms tightly across her chest. “Fine, but it’s my innermost thoughts, and right now the whole world thinks I’m a cold, calculating, murdering cow.”
“That’s not true,” Evan said. “There’s an Indian tribe on the African subcontinent that doesn’t.”
“An Indian in Africa?” she repeated. “They don’t even have TV in some places.”
“They read it on the Internet,” he retorted quickly. “This tribe doesn’t think you’re a cow. They’re convinced you’re a cat. And don’t laugh. You’re not allowed to laugh because you’re cross and sulking.” He paused. “Don’t smile either.”
Lou tried to keep her face straight and failed. “Jim does that, and I hate it.”
He nodded.
“Varian won.” A low whistle escaped her lips. “My career is over just as he promised. I can kiss that university job good bye as well.”
“The one that combines field and class work?” Jack asked.
“Yeah, that one. I spoke to him the other day, told him how interested I was. He said he’d get back to me and now there is no chance.”
“Hey. You don’t know that, kiddo.” Jack rubbed her arm.
“Yeah, I do.” Her phone rang. She toed it further under the seat in front of her. “That’s probably him now.”
“Answer it.”
She shook her head. “No.”
Evan leaned down and grabbed the phone. “Dr. Fitzgerald’s phone. Evan Close speaking.” He paused. “I’m sorry; Dr. Fitzgerald isn’t available right now. She’s gone to ground because of the news coverage and subsequent defamation of her character, while she watches her career dissipation light blinking and going into overdrive.”
“Give it here. You two are as bad as each other.” Lou groaned and snatched the phone. “I’m here, please ignore him.”
“Dr. Fitzgerald, it’s Professor Cunningham at Cumbria University.”
Lou covered the mouthpiece. “I hate you.”
“Hate isn’t a very nice word,” Jack chided.
She wagged her head and spoke into the phone as the car pulled into the road leading to the dam. “I planned to call you this morning.”
“Really? May I ask why?”
“I’m sure you’ve seen the news reports. I don’t want to tarnish the reputation of either your department or the university. That’s what would happen once the media found out I worked there.”
“I’ve also read the article you had published in this month’s History Today. I receive an advance copy, and your paper really is excellent work. Your theories panned out beautifully, and you backed up every single one with evidence of proof. Answer me one question. Are the news reports true?”
“Of course not.” She shifted on her seat, aware of the fact everyone was listening even if they pretended not to do so. “I didn’t kill AJ. In fact there have been…”
She broke off. She was
digging herself a bigger hole and needed to stop. “No, no, they’re not.”
“After the conversation with you the other day, I didn’t think they would be. I was actually phoning to offer you the position, but if you’d rather not take it…”
“Hold on. You were?” She could scarcely believe her ears. Her heart pounded and a faint spark of hope began to burn. Perhaps it wasn’t just Evan and Jack who believed in her.
“I still am. Take a couple of days to think it over. Let the media circus die down, and let me know by say, Thursday.”
“OK, I’ll call you back on Thursday. Thank you. Bye.” She hung up and stared at the phone. “I don’t believe it.”
“What did he want?” Evan asked.
“He offered me the job.” Even saying the words out loud didn’t make them any more real.
Evan grinned. “See. Congratulations.”
“He’s given me until Thursday to think it over.”
“You should take it,” Jack said. “You just said you always wanted a job like that. Something that combines field work and teaching.”
Lou shrugged. “There’s a job to finish here.” She inhaled sharply as the car swung into the car park overlooking the dam. “Good grief. Look at it!”
A huge crack ran the height of the dam. From this angle it appeared to be a couple of feet wide. Huge piles of rubble were visible on the lake floor. A slight vibration under the car coincided with chunks of concrete falling from the side of the dam, splashing into the water below.
“Evan, how long has it got?” Lou rubbed clammy hands against her legs.
Evan seemed as pale and shocked as she felt. “It’s impossible to say. I need to get down there and check for myself. But looking at it, barring a miracle, it doesn’t have more than two days at the most.”
Jack nodded to the swarm of journalists and TV cameras standing at the side of the car park. “We have to get through that first.”
“That’s easy.” Evan’s lips thinned. “It’s what I pay these blokes for. Ira, park as close as you can to the portacabin without going onto the dam itself.” He pulled out his phone and dialled. “Ralph, it’s me. Where are you?”
Lou couldn’t tear her gaze away from the dam as the car edged closer, the sight both mesmerizing and terrifying.
“OK, give me a few minutes. We’re pulling up in the car now.”
Lou regarded the media swarm with trepidation, unable to keep from shuddering. “I don’t want to go out there.”
Evan put his phone away. “So don’t. Stay in the car and hide. Or you go out there, face them, and tell them that this is a criminal investigation, which it is. Therefore you can’t answer any of their questions.”
She sucked in a deep breath. “OK.”
Evan touched her hand. “Just stay between me and your dad. You’ll be fine.” He glanced towards the front of the car. “You blokes get to earn your keep for a change.”
Both security men laughed. Then they got out of the car and moved swiftly around to open the door.
Lou stepped out of the car. The journalists circled, shoving mics and cameras in her face.
Ira and Zach stepped closer, as the others got out of the car.
“Dr. Fitzgerald, do you have anything to say about the allegations Monty Sparrow made against you?” a reporter shouted.
“Are you responsible for the death of AJ Wilcox?”
Evan stood on one side of her, Jack on the other.
Inwardly quaking, Lou almost lost her balance as the ground beneath her feet moved, sending another torrent of small chunks sliding down the dam into the water. They didn’t have time for this. OK, here goes nothing. “I’m not answering questions, but I do have a short statement.”
Silence fell over the reporters.
“AJ was a friend. I am, in no way, responsible for his death. All the events of the past week here at the lake, including the four attempts on my own life, are the subject of an on-going police investigation. As I’m sure you’re aware, that means that I can’t discuss any of them with you. I have confidence in the ability of the police to find whoever is responsible and bring them to justice. I understand they have made an arrest and suggest you speak to them for any further details they may be able to provide. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do here.”
Evan glanced at Ira. “OK, let’s go.”
Flanked by Evan and Jack, Lou let the security officers lead her through the journalists. She ignored their shouts. Varian wouldn’t like that statement one bit, but she hadn’t named him. Unlike him, she had some principles, and mudslinging to the media wasn’t one of them. She glanced at Evan. “Now what?”
“Pray we can stop that dam from falling,” he replied quietly. “But that will take a miracle.”
Jack grimaced. “We’ll be fine. I know Someone in the miracle business.”
35
Evan gazed at the pressure gauges in the control room. Dismay and worry ramped up each and every one of his already taut nerves. The ominous figures on the clipboard in his left hand didn’t help. He tapped the gauge in front of him, and groaned as the needle jumped up a notch. He scribbled the new numbers down, and then focused on the panel behind him.
The radio on his belt crackled. “Boss?”
He snatched it. “What is it, Ralph?”
“We’re getting intermittent vibrations up here.”
Evan frowned. “I don’t feel anything down here.” He rested a hand on the wall in front of him. “No, nothing.”
The radio went dead. Shrugging, he put it back on his belt and carried on checking the gauges. Clanging came from the metal staircase in the corridor. “What? Don’t you believe me?” he called.
There was no answer, despite the fact he could hear footsteps.
Evan moved swiftly to the door and flung it open. There was no one there, instead a thick, yellow fog consumed the tunnel.
He raised his radio. “Ralph, are you there?” Static hissed. “Ralph?”
The sound of a muffled conversation drifted around him, carried in by the fog. He strained to listen. He could just make out two, maybe three voices, all men.
“Hello? Who’s down here? This area is off limits.”
Shaking his head, Evan grabbed the flashlight from the wall and flicked it on. A powerful white beam pierced the fog only a half foot, but it was better than nothing. Barely. He set off into the fog to search for the voices.
He couldn’t hear his footsteps as he walked, but he could hear the voices. The fog thickened. Cold tendrils wrapped around his body, his face, inside him as he breathed. The voices were always in front of him, but he could never catch them. The flashlight illuminated the steel locking ring of a metal door. Spinning the ring one handed, he opened the door, clambered through and pulled it shut behind him.
The fog hadn’t permeated this side of the door, and he wanted to keep it that way. Five feet further down the corridor the tunnel ended in a metal spiral staircase. Evan climbed it, reaching a hatch at the top. He popped it open and climbed out into bright sunlight.
He spun around. He was in the forest one hundred feet above the level of the dam. Below him lay the lake, car park, and…
He did a double take. The dam was completely shrouded in fog. Thick, yellow fog that touched nothing except the dam.
Evan tried the radio again, but still only heard static. Pulling out his mobile phone, he rang Lou. Dead air. The call didn’t even try to connect. Icy fear gripped him. He tried Ira whom he could see standing next to the car.
The call answered on the first ring. “Here, boss. Where are you?”
“This will sound crazy, but can you reach the dam? My radio isn’t working. It conked out mid conversation with Frank, and I can’t reach Lou’s phone either.”
“We lost contact with everyone on the dam the instant the fog rolled in. Where are you?”
“About one hundred feet above the dam and car park in the forest. If you turn to your left, you’ll see me in that clearing.�
��
Ira turned.
Evan waved. “See me?”
“How did you get up there?”
“That’s a long story we don’t have time for, so I’ll give you the short version. The tunnel beneath the dam is filled with fog. I could hear voices and footsteps. I followed them, found a door and a staircase that incidentally aren’t on the blueprints I’ve seen, and here I am.” He paused. “In some ways it’s worse than the west wing.”
Ira laughed. “Yup, you’re crazy all right.”
Evan shook his head. “I don’t pay you to agree with me. Anyway, I’m going back down there. I know you won’t agree with me on that score either, but I have to find the others. Give me twenty minutes. Speak soon.”
He hung up before Ira could argue against what, on reflection, was a stupid thing to do. However, it was the only, logical thing to do under the circumstances. There were members of his team down there, including Lou, and he had to go and get her back to the sunlight.
Evan climbed back down the stairs, taking care to fasten the hatch to the forest behind him. He wasn’t sure why this wasn’t on the blueprints he owned, but it made sense to give the dam workers an escape route to higher ground. He’d often wondered why there wasn’t one.
As soon as he reached the second twist of the stairs, the temperature dropped like a stone. Evan zipped up his jacket and pulled up the collar. Fog swirled around his ankles. As he descended, the yellow, dank miasma rose until it swallowed him whole.
The flashlight made no difference this time, not even permeating the murk an inch. Evan used the tunnel walls as a guide to make his way forwards, shuffling his feet as he went. He stopped, once again hearing the voices ahead of him. He stood like a statue, straining to hear, to make out the words, the direction they were coming from. He took another step and his fingers met a gap in the wall.
An infinitesimal crack that could be a door; at least he hoped it was a door and not an actual crack. If the cracks had reached this deep they were in serious trouble. He pushed it a little and the voices became clearer.
“It’s too big a risk,” the first voice said.
“There’s nothing left of the village now. And once the water is gone, we can get a team in properly to check.”
