by D C Macey
‘There is another problem, sir.’
Parsol turned his chair. ‘What else? Captain, all that matters is Cassiter has secured my goals. And that he now ferries them back here along with Cameron. Tell him he can dispose of the other two prisoners; they are of no significance.’
‘We can’t do that, sir.’
‘What? Get it done.’
‘I’m sorry, sir, really, it can’t be done. With the changing tide, the RIB can’t get access to the tunnel mouth. We’ll have to wait for the tide.’
‘How long?’
I think four or five hours, perhaps a little longer.’
‘Impossible. I must retrieve the assets now. Can’t you send in my helicopter to collect them?’
‘It can’t lift directly from the tunnel mouth; I understand there’s a cliff overhang above it. It’s quite inaccessible by hoist from above. We’ll need to get whatever you want into the RIB before we do anything, either ferry it out or airlift it from there. And never mind the tides, the wind is getting up and the forecast is bad for the next twelve hours. High winds, possibly more snow. I need to stand off the island now. Get into open waters and ride it out. Then go back in when the weather eases.’
Parsol motored his chair back across the bridge, stopping directly in front of the captain. ‘You will maintain your position here. Under no circumstances may you go off station. We must be here, ready to move as soon as we hear from Cassiter.’
‘But, sir—’
‘Captain, I insist you maintain this position, no matter what.’
‘I must advise against this course of action, sir.’
‘Captain, your advice is noted. Now, either you follow my orders and keep us here, ready to take Cassiter and my assets off the island at the first possible instance, or I will have my men remove you from your command, permanently.’ He waved to his bodyguards who flexed and bristled. ‘I’m sure that young man is more than competent enough to follow my instructions in your stead.’ He pointed to the first officer.
‘I will do as you instruct, sir. You can rely on me, always,’ the captain said, backing down.
‘Thank you. Now, I am going to my cabin. Ensure I am kept up to date with any changes.’
• • •
DI Brogan drew his car to a halt just up from Pete Summer’s house. He looked carefully around. All was quiet, though there was a light on in the hallway. He recognised the unmarked police car that was parked immediately outside the door and knew it contained two specialist firearms officers. Things were as he had instructed.
‘Are you sure this is where you want to be?’ he said.
‘Yes, I’ve arranged with Pete that we can stay here tonight.’
‘Well, okay, if you insist.’ He turned to look into the rear. ‘And you two ladies, wouldn’t you be happier in Edinburgh?’
‘No,’ said Elaine.
‘We’re with Helen, thanks,’ said Grace.
Brogan gave a sigh. ‘Okay, I need to get back to Edinburgh now. Those two officers in the car over there will be on duty all night. I’ll be back in the morning to speak about what happened.’
‘Would you thank her for me please?’ said Helen.
‘Thank who?’
‘DS Price. I know she’s seen us as a bit difficult, but when push came to shove, that didn’t matter. We’re all in her debt.’
‘No debts here, Helen. We’re all just doing our duty. But I will tell her, and thank you. She’ll appreciate it.’
• • •
Sam, Bill and Angelo were propped against the wall, their hands cable tied behind them. One of Cassiter’s guards stood watch over them. The other guards, having taken the prisoners’ rucksacks, had emptied out the contents and were now filling them with treasures.
Cassiter had carefully inspected each treasure pile before the guards were allowed to touch them. Following his instructions, they were working systematically, putting the first pile from the first row into the first rucksack, the second pile into the second rucksack and so on. Once the three rucksacks were full, they filled Sam’s tool bags with the next two piles.
‘Right, we’re off,’ said the lead guard as he hoisted the rucksack onto his shoulders.
‘Be careful at the tunnel junction. I don’t want anything dropped down into that pit. Once you get to the tunnel mouth, empty the bags in the same order as you loaded them. I want to see an orderly row of piles when I get down there. Then hurry back here with the bags for more. Shifting all this is going to take some time. Oh, and have the RIB send a message to the ship’s captain: when the weather lifts, they will need to send a lot of strong bags across, so we can package this lot for transport out.’
Sam watched the four men leave through the doorway and heard their steps receding down the tunnel. He looked at the remaining guard, then to Cassiter.
‘I can see you, Cameron. Don’t get any ideas. I’ve told the guard to shoot first, and I won’t ask any questions later.’
‘You’ve got these wrist ties so tight my hands are going to sleep.’
‘Good, that’ll keep you out of trouble. But believe me, you won’t need them for much longer.’ Cassiter continued to prowl among the neatly piled rows of treasure; he checked every pile with meticulous attention.
‘What exactly are you looking for?’ said Sam.
Cassiter did not answer, just kept looking. A little later, his four guards returned and confirmed the weather was worsening. Then they loaded up the next piles into the bags and set off again.
Time passed while Cassiter continued with his methodical inspection; meanwhile his guards had made several more round trips to the tunnel mouth. Cassiter had reached the copper plinths. Ignoring the larger flat but empty one, he focused on the taller one that supported the gold casket. He opened the lid of the gold box.
‘Now, what have we got here?’
Angelo leant forwards, straining against the ties that bound his wrists. ‘Don’t touch that. You are not fit. Do not—’
The guard kicked Angelo’s face then struck his head with the butt of his pistol. ‘Shut up, you. Another sound, and I’ll put a bullet in you.’
‘There we are then,’ said Cassiter while nodding approvingly to the guard. ‘The priest tells the story. This is clearly what I thought it was. Number one on the shopping list. Now, what’s next?’
25
Sunday, January 26th - a.m.
It was just before one in the morning, and the poor weather had continued unabated. The captain exchanged glances with his first officer. Both knew holding their current position was dangerous. There was no margin for error, a failed engine or loss of steering would have them against the cliffs in a matter of minutes. Even an exceptional wave or gust of wind could present a problem.
The yacht’s second officer emerged from the radio shack at the back of the bridge. It was equipped with all the latest communication technology, ensuring that, wherever they were in the world, Eugene Parsol was kept at the centre of everything. Tonight, though, only one thing mattered to him and the other officers. He had been tuned into BBC Radio 4’s regular 00.48 broadcast of the Met Office Shipping Forecast. Leaning against the roll of the ship, he lurched across the bridge.
‘Well?’ said the captain.
‘Looking better, sir. The depression should be passing us about now, moving out into the North Sea.’
‘And?’
‘We should see the wind ease and shift to an easterly as it passes.’
‘Thank God for that,’ said the captain.
‘No sign of any change yet,’ said the first officer, who was monitoring the direction that the spray was moving across the ship’s bow. Still from the west.’
‘Let me know as soon as you detect a shift. Once it’s in the east, we’ll at least be in the lee of the island. I’d better go and let him know. I’m guessing, as soon as we get any shelter from the wind, he’s going to want us to attempt some sort of transfer from the island.’
‘Surely, he’ll a
t least wait until daylight,’ said the second officer.
The captain gave him a wry look. Then glanced towards the first officer. ‘You’ve got the con now.’ He caught the yacht’s next roll to launch himself away across the bridge deck.
• • •
A cry reached up from the depths of the tunnel and into the cave. Cassiter and the guard looked up at once. The faintest sound of a splash followed.
Cassiter cursed then pointed at the guard. ‘Stay alert. Those idiots have dropped something at the junction. I’d better see what’s going on. Whoever did it is going to pay.’ Leaning on his stick, he carefully crossed the rough metal lip of the doorway and stepped into the tunnel beyond. Raised voices made clear that blame was being apportioned ahead of Cassiter’s involvement.
The remaining guard watched him go then glared at his prisoners. He approached them, kicked Angelo hard in the leg. ‘Stay still, all of you, or I’ll shoot. Remember Cassiter’s warning.’
The three prisoners averted their gaze. Content with his dominance, the guard took the opportunity he had been patiently waiting for. He hurried across to the remaining piles of treasures, holstered his pistol and stooped to browse, seeking out a few choice jewels that he could hide away.
From the depths of the tunnel, Cassiter’s voice rolled up and into the lava cave, echoing and bouncing around as he raged. The guard smiled to himself, content to be free of any blame.
‘Sam, can you move your hands towards me?’ said Bill in a barely audible whisper.
Sam threw him a questioning look.
‘Bit like your man over there, I’ve been naughty. Those throwing daggers I was admiring? I’ve got one down my trousers.’
Sam grinned and began to twist round as far as the constraints would allow.
‘Down the front.’
‘Of course it is,’ muttered Sam.
He glanced up at the guard who was absorbed on the far side of the cave, busy trawling through a neat pile of gem-laden rings. Sam and Bill shuffled their bodies round towards each other, and Bill arched his legs towards Sam. ‘Go for it.’
Sam delved in, his hand immediately settling on the knife handle. He pulled it out, the blade still securely tucked in its sheath.
Bill swung his body round to present his hands towards Sam and gripped the blade’s sheath. ‘Pull it out now,’ he said.
Sam pulled back and the knife slid free from its sheath. ‘Here goes. Hold your hands steady; I’m having to guess,’ said Sam.
‘I’ll position it first,’ said Bill. Using his fingers, he guided the blade between his hands and got it resting on the tie that bound him. ‘Right, slice now.’
Sam applied pressure through the blade as he shifted his body position to draw the blade across Bill’s ties. He felt the bite of the slicing blade, felt the cut and the release of pressure as the tie gave. Sam’s hands were tied so tightly that they objected to any further efforts and the blade fell onto the ground between him and Bill.
‘Hell,’ muttered Sam.
The heavy gold blade landed with a dull metallic clatter, and the guard looked up. He dropped the rings he’d been appraising and hurried across the cave while unholstering his weapon.
‘He’s mine,’ said Bill. He wrapped his fingers round the knife handle and, swinging his arm forwards, launched the blade in a single motion. Even as the guard freed his pistol and lined up for a shot, the blade was flying towards him. He saw something moving, had no idea what it was and never found out. The perfectly balanced and heavy-weighted gold blade plunged into his chest. His finger instinctively contracted, firing off a shot that ricocheted twice before falling spent, harmless and unseen.
Bill hurried to pick up the throwing dagger’s twin and used it to free Sam and Angelo’s hands.
‘Great throw, Bill,’ said Sam.
‘Knife throwing champion in the SBS, three years running. You don’t forget your core skills in a hurry. What now, Sam?’
‘We need to get away from here,’ he said, stooping to pick up the dead guard’s pistol. ‘One handgun won’t hold that lot off for long.’
‘Where to?’
‘We can’t go down so the only way is up.’ Sam paused for a moment, handed Bill the pistol and crossed the cave to the golden casket. He lifted out the tarnished silver goblet and stuck it inside his jacket before lifting one of the lantern torches and pointing Angelo towards the second one. ‘Right, let’s go.’ He stepped out into the tunnel and turned upwards. They set off quickly.
They could already hear a man coming up the tunnel to find out what was happening in the cave.
The tunnel began to take a slight turn.
‘You guys go on. I’ll delay them a bit then catch you up. For God’s sake, find an exit, or we’re all done,’ said Bill.
‘Right,’ said Sam. He knew if they were to have any chance, time to find an exit was essential, if one even existed. He put his hand on Bill’s shoulder. ‘Thank you. If they come up this way, you buying us even a couple of minutes could be crucial. Don’t wait any longer than that; there’s either an exit or there isn’t.’
‘Clear off the pair of you,’ said Bill, with a grin. He lay down on the tunnel floor waiting for all comers.
Angelo put one of the lanterns down for Bill.
‘No, take it with you. Dark’s better for me now.’
The priest nodded and followed Sam up the tunnel.
After a little more than a hundred paces, the tunnel came to an abrupt halt.
‘What now?’ said Angelo.
‘We hope for a break.’ Sam inspected the tunnel’s end face; it was solid natural rock. Knowing the Templars’ skill at concealment, he tapped the surface firmly with his knuckle, winced at the pain and recognised it was truly solid. Reaching up, he continued his inspection, the higher part of the end wall was equally solid as were the sidewalls.
‘What do you think?’ said Angelo.
Sam tilted his head up. Here, the roof height had raised slightly, though he could still reach up and touch it. In the light of his lantern, it seemed consistent with the walls and floor. He did a circle, taking in the whole of the tunnel roof. ‘Looks solid to me.’
‘There’s no way out then,’ said Angelo.
‘Seems that way.’ After lowering his head and allowing his neck to rest a few moments, Sam felt motivated to check one more time. He looked up and turned another circle. This time, he saw something that raised his suspicions. Stepping back down the tunnel a few paces, he looked at the roof then returned to the tunnel’s end.
‘Angelo, would you give me a boost up? I need to check again. It’s just a suspicion, but a section of the roof here appears just too consistent. I need to check more closely.’
Angelo bent, gripped Sam round the thighs and lifted him up. Sam bent his head to avoid butting the roof.
‘That’s great; just hold me steady for a moment.’ Sam moved his hand across the roof, rapping his knuckles on the stone. He was beginning to write off his suspicion, when in one corner of the tunnel roof, the reverberation changed. He rapped again, checking the extent of the anomaly.
‘Let me down, Angelo; we’ve got something here.’
Back on two feet, Sam looked up at the inconspicuous corner of roof. He raised his lantern high. ‘There’s something up there. That bit of roof is artificial.’
‘Can you open it?’
‘There’s no sign of any controls or latches, so the answer is no. Only, let me try something, it’s a long shot, but what the hell. It’s all we’ve got right now.’
Dropping to his hands and knees, Sam directed the full light of his lantern into the corners. ‘Interesting,’ he said, then stood and focused the light and his attention on the junction of wall and roof. ‘Very interesting.’
Sam handed Angelo his lantern then positioned himself in the corner close beneath the false roof. ‘Stay well back, Angelo; I have no idea what will happen here.’
He spread his legs, positioning his feet against inconspic
uous spots at the junction of wall and floor. Raising his arms, he reached for the spots he had identified high in the walls, his body describing a saltire. ‘Here goes nothing,’ he said and twisted his ankles to apply pressure against the chosen spots where wall met floor; simultaneously, he pressed hard with his hands.
Nothing happened. Sam tried again. ‘Come on, move. Open, damn you. Open!’ He pressed a third time and heard a momentary grinding sound above. He immediately moved away and looked up to the corner, nothing had shifted.
‘What were you trying to do?’
‘I thought they may have employed an early forerunner of the opening mechanism used in the tunnel between St Bernard’s and the manse. Maybe I’m wrong, or maybe it’s just that it hasn’t been opened in seven hundred years. It’s bound to be a bit sticky; even their engineering wasn’t infallible.’
Suddenly, they heard the report of a weapon being discharged, four shots in rapid succession, a cry of pain then a roar as an automatic weapon emptied its entire magazine in an uncontrolled frenzy.
‘They’re here.’
‘Sounds like it,’ said Sam. He returned his attention to the roof. ‘It’s a panel, I know it. Just stuck.’ Moving underneath, he jumped up and thumped the roof, then repeated the action with all his effort. Turning his attention back to the wall, he repeated the opening trigger procedure. With a grind and groan, the stone panel started to hinge down.
‘Keep back!’ Sam shouted and threw himself to one side.
A panel, only twelve inches wide and thirty-six deep, had hinged down. Sam raised his lantern to look more closely. ‘The reverse of the panel is a flagstone. It must be the floor of a building. Get ready, I’ll go up and check it’s safe, you just follow me up.’
More gunshots echoed up from the tunnel, another cry then running feet. Bill appeared. As he entered the lantern’s light, Sam saw Bill was soaked in blood. It looked like it was coming from a head graze.
‘Okay?’ said Sam.
‘Fine, I’ve had worse,’ said Bill, touching his head then pointing to a hole in the arm of his jacket. ‘Two hits, but I’ve put two of them down. Ran out of ammo, or I’d have taken the lot out. If that’s the exit, get up there now; they’ll be here any moment.’
