by Jane Goodall
‘Exactly.’
‘Kaiser makes a row and the others make towards him — to shut him up, or worse. All right, Steve. I can see how you’re thinking.’
‘We use 93 Lots Road as a base, and we surround this area.’ He circled the section of tunnel running along the north side of the road under the houses, and crossing into the factory. ‘We’ve confirmed with the power station that this is a lift shaft and if anyone’s being held captive, it’s here — according to the drawing — so this is where we have to be. We use Kaiser to create a racket that with any luck will bring the other Suddens to a rapid assembly, and we arrest them.’
‘Sounds very neat and tidy.’
‘Don’t be so sceptical. I suppose you’re going to tell me about your gut feeling now.’
‘Yes I am.’ She flared up. ‘How many times have we picked this wrongly, Steve? I suppose you’re intending to be down there yourself, right in the middle of it all?’
‘I’ll have to be. But you don’t. In fact we’ll need you to be above ground, somewhere in direct communication with the control room. We need you in a car, but not Denis’s usual — they’ll spot that a mile off.’
Denis appeared in the doorway. ‘It’s twelve-thirty, ma’am. Everyone’s waiting in there.’
*
‘I tried to get to you earlier,’ said Zig, ‘but they were all in the workshop. They’d have heard the lift coming up. They’re after me as well, see. Johnny Mullighan knows it’s us that went through his bedroom.’
Sharon realised Zig was in as much of a bad state as she was herself and there was no point in playing any blame games. They clung to each other’s wrists as they made their way through the passages to get as far out of range of the house as possible before attempting to surface. They missed a turn somewhere and for a while were lost, taking it in turns to hold the torch as they went through an endless series of identical looking tunnels. Eventually they passed some familiar graffiti: Live without dead time. From that point they followed the writing on the wall. Your future is behind you. A time to die. The second coming. The ground was sloping upwards now, and was concreted. Sharon saw an old shoe lying there, and remembered nearly falling over it the first time they came down the steps from the factory outbuilding. She directed the torch beam at her feet.
There were twenty-two steps, she remembered that, and after the first ten a flickering light was visible above. Sharon was leading the way and as her head reached the level of the opening, she could see flaming torches high up in the space. Risking another step up, she looked around the space. The centre of the building was dominated by a scaffolding frame draped with lengths of chain. Chain was also used to bind the torches in place, dozens of them, set at different levels so that the whole place was aglow with fiery light. She and Zig ran up the steps and backed swiftly to the nearest wall, making for the open door. But as they reached it they heard movement outside.
They could see shadows just outside the door, so they reversed direction and headed towards the ladder that led up to the bridge on the other side of the building. It was quite a climb, and as Sharon looked down on the apparatus prepared for the show, she remembered the first time she’d seen the Suddens in concert, and how she’d thought it was real when the guy in the hippy wig was hoisted up in the air, doing his maniac dance in the air. Now it was the other way around. People were going to think it was a stunt, when it was for real. The Suddens no longer meant crazy excitement to her. She could see the loops of chain right up there amidst the flames, ready to be fixed round someone’s arms and legs so they would hang there, unable to make themselves heard above the racket, while everyone laughed to see them set alight.
As they reached the upper door, two people entered the space downstairs and began talking. But she didn’t hear what they said — all she wanted was to get out into the free air.
49
Briony was with Leonie and Denis in an old blue Austin, stationed at the intersection of Lots Road and Chelsea Harbour Drive. They had a view of the factory yard across the creek to the left as well as straight ahead along the street. The control room confirmed that the other cars were in place along the side streets, with more backup at the ready from the patrol cars in the King’s Road. Three plainclothes officers were sent in as pedestrians, to be in range of the house if there were any sudden developments. At 1.33 she gave the order for the cordon across the street.
The next two minutes stretched out blankly, punctuated only by the exit of a group of elderly men from the pub on the corner. They looked suspiciously at the cordon and went on their way in the other direction. At 1.35 the sound began, only just audible from where they were, but the fluctuating pitch carried on the still, hot air until the whole street seemed to be resonating. Doors opened in several of the houses and some women actually came out and began a conversation on the pavement, their heads turning this way and that. Kaiser kept it up for several minutes, rising to a crescendo that was like the bellowing of some strange trapped beast, then everything seemed to stop. The women returned to their houses and the street was silent again.
*
Sharon refused to go back into the building, so they stayed by the wharf, dangling their bare feet over the muddy edge of the river. Zig was hunched forward, staring across the water. ‘The face you saw in the house,’ she said. That wasn’t Sol.’
‘Don’t talk crap. You know who makes those masks. It was grinning right in my face just before they put the blindfold on me.’
Zig shook her head. ‘I know Sol better than anyone and I know that’s not him. He’s a complete bloody innocent, that’s the truth of it. When the visions are happening he doesn’t actually see most of what’s going on around him and sometimes he doesn’t know what he’s doing. But when he’s in his right mind he wouldn’t hurt a fly. It was him that rescued the cat, from down here in the Thames. It was struggling along at the edge of the river with its fur all matted, nothing but skin and bones. Couldn’t even miaow. He brought it back and took care of it. And he rescued me from my horrible boarding school when they sent me back there last year. Drove all the way up in a car he’d pinched, and parked it at the edge of the hockey field.’
‘You know very well he’s killed people,’ Sharon said quietly. ‘You’re protecting him because you’re struck on him. Don’t you even realise he was going to kill me? And very likely you as well. Wake up, can’t you?’
‘Who got you out of it, Sharon?’
Sharon was dropping pebbles into the mud. ‘Yeah, and who got me into it in the first place?’
That was when the noise started up.
‘It’s Kaiser.’ Zig jumped to her feet. ‘What’s he playing at? Nothing’s supposed to happen for another twenty minutes.’
They made their way back towards the storage building but as they were about to climb the outside staircase, the door at the top opened and someone came out. They retreated to the shadow of the wall under the bridge and listened to the steady rhythm of the descending footsteps punctuating the muffled howl that was coming from god knows where.
*
Denis shuffled in his seat, adjusting the rearview mirror for the umpteenth time. Briony exchanged glances with Leonie. Had it all misfired? One of the CID pedestrians, a tall man dressed in nondescript jeans and t-shirt, was checking his watch as he crossed the street near number 93, so his back was turned when Briony noticed another movement — some swift play of light and shadow at ground level, half obscured by a parked lorry. A man had appeared from nowhere, right in the middle of the pavement, and was running by the wall towards the entrance to one of the side yards of the power station. Denis had seen it too, and intercepted Briony as she was about to dash out.
‘Stay there!’ he pleaded. He set off in chase himself at an unconvincing pace. But now the officer in the street was alert and two of the cars were converging on the yard entrance with their sirens blaring. There were shouts, more neighbours appeared in the street and some kids on bikes had to be redirected
up Uverdale Road, one of them nearly colliding with Denis.
And then the most banal of all scenes in police work — a young man, dishevelled and struggling, shepherded to a waiting car with his hands behind his back. Barely a minute later, the front door of number 93 opened and the same scene was repeated. The second man was spitting expletives at everyone within range and by the set of his jaw, the skeletal angles of his body, Briony knew it was Flak. As the cars departed there was some spontaneous clapping from amongst the now considerable throng of police gathered in the street. Not the kind of audience the two showmen had in mind when they made their plans for today, she thought. But the show was far from over.
She was on the alert, scanning the scene in the other direction, towards the creek, while Leonie reported the developments to control. As Denis returned to the car, sweating and triumphant, Briony was already on her way down to the factory yard.
‘This way!’ she called out to him. ‘Get the other cars round here!’
People had gathered inside the high wire fence of the yard. Punks, all kitted out in leather, tartan and rotting cotton, with their hair jagged up for the occasion. They must have got in around the back, across the strip of waste ground between the creek and the river. The security officers from the power station appeared, exclaiming angrily and ready to take immediate action. Briony pulled them aside, out of sight of the trespassers.
‘Wait,’ she said. ‘We don’t know what might be happening in there. We have to coordinate this.’
*
Sharon had only seen Sol once before — without his fancy face on, anyway — but this time, too, there was no doubt who it was. His pale hair was long and curling, his clothes were white, and he stood there at the river’s edge looking out over the water as if he’d just landed from some other world. Certainly you’d never have picked him for someone who belonged with the punks. Zig’s reaction wasn’t at all what Sharon expected. Instead of rushing out to him, she stayed back and was watching from a distance.
Suddenly there was more noise, an outburst of sirens coming from the direction of the street behind them. Sol showed no response whatsoever, even when Flak’s voice could be heard quite distinctly, crowing an assortment of curses. The sirens passed away and there was quiet again.
Sharon turned to Zig. ‘Now what?’ she said. Aren’t you going to talk to him?’
Zig shook her head.
‘Why not?’
‘I dunno. He doesn’t seem the same.’
‘How d’you mean?’ Sharon asked. ‘You were just telling me you know him better than anybody. You’re not scared of him are you?’
‘I dunno.’
When Sol moved off again, making his way along the edge of the river, past the wharves and into Cheyne Walk, both of them followed.
*
Briony divided the remaining officers into three contingents: two to skirt the building from opposite directions and one to occupy the foreground, controlling the exodus. The security officers unlocked the gates and she led the way in.
There was much hostile staring and a couple of token war cries, but for once the surprise factor was in favour of the police. Briony scrambled up on a stack of timber and introduced herself with as much voice projection as she could manage.
‘The show’s off,’ she announced. ‘Nothing’s happening here, so you can go home. If you leave now there’ll be no action against you, but you are all trespassing and we won’t hesitate to make arrests if there’s any trouble.’
‘Bollocks!’ came a lone voice. There was scattered laughter, but a piece of the crowd had already broken off and was drifting out through the gates. Briony waited, staring out the remainder of the mob until they too began to crumble into bored individuals, ready to look elsewhere for a thrill.
The security officers had turned their attention to the doors of the building.
‘Problem,’ said one of them as she approached. ‘Someone’s put the bloody bar across on the inside.’
‘That’s not supposed to be used, that bar,’ said the other. ‘It’s an old locking system that no one’s allowed to touch. Well, we got two choices now. We can cut through it, or we can get in up the top there.’
‘Is there a way from underneath?’ Briony asked.
‘Probably, though I don’t know one that’s in use. Until a couple of years ago this was an unloading dock for coal supplies and some of it was transported through the tunnels under here, but we’re switching to natural gas, so everything’s changed. This building’s turning into a bit of a white elephant. There’s not much work goes on in there now.’
‘We’ll try getting in from above,’ Briony intercepted crisply.
One of the security officers stayed below and the other led the way up the outside stairs. It was a challenging climb in the heat, and as Briony stepped through the metal door onto the narrow platform inside, with its token safety rail, the scene below seemed to turn dizzily before her eyes.
Several dozen burning torches were arranged on a tower of scaffolding that reached almost to where she stood. The top bars were oiled so they shone darkly, and several lengths of chain were wound over them, the ends trailing in the emptiness below.
She had never been prone to vertigo, but she had to lean back against the wall for a few seconds to steady herself before deciding on the next move. The view of the ground was obscured by smoke — so much for her hope of getting a vantage point so they could see who was in there. They’d have to go down, and with one member of the Suddens still on the loose, descent single-file on the metal ladder was risky.
The sound of more feet tramping up the steps outside heralded the arrival of the rest of her team, but the security officer barred the entrance with an outstretched arm.
‘We can’t have everyone lining up along here — it’s not designed to support more than a couple of men.’
Briony moved forward and put her foot on the ladder. ‘We’re going down.’
At ground level there was no smoke, but the light was partial and deceptive. She got her back to the nearest wall and watched anxiously as the other officers descended, directing them to form a search line. They spread out across the interior, advancing one pace at a time so as to check every part of the floor area.
Satisfied that there was no one present, they turned their attention to the sub-floor access. This time Leonie persuaded Briony to stay put, and it was Denis who led the search contingent down the steps.
The security officer was inspecting the scaffolding. ‘Professional job,’ he remarked. ‘They’ve done all the bracing correctly. Better get those torches put out. The updraft from that hole in the floor would cause havoc if the flame took.’
Briony was getting her own sense of the skill and planning behind this piece of apparatus. ‘We have to get it photographed before we interfere with it,’ she said.
She sent Leonie in quest of a soco with a camera then put her gloves on and crouched to examine the floor area. It was coated with thick dust, marked with the impress of many feet. Sorry, Pavan, she thought. No chance of preserving this lot from contamination, not when the masquerader might still be lurking. The best she could do was scan for obvious pieces of evidence.
Something glinted amidst the debris at the foot of the scaffolding. She reached for it: a bicycle spoke, with a sharpened end. Who was this prepared for?
‘Nasty, that,’ said a voice right behind her.
She wheeled round to face the security officer. ‘We’re not completely immune to heart attacks in our line of business,’ she said. ‘And you should watch your back as well — these things can be lethal when they get in the wrong hands.’
‘Hey!’ Denis made a reappearance from the lower regions, holding up an old shoe. ‘How about this? Think I found a match for the Battersea foot.’
By the end of the afternoon Lucan Place was bursting at the seams with police of all ranks and designations. It was standing room only in Fletcher’s office, where several conversations were taking place
at once. Chalmers was talking to Steve, Pavan to Fletcher and Aidan to Jimmy. Briony didn’t want to talk to anyone right now except Gareth, and she didn’t want to get caught up in the buzz. Once a case had broken like this, there were usually a few hours of buzz and hum as everyone recapped on the critical stages, then they would go for a drink.
She drew Fletcher aside and excused herself, saying she needed to go back to the hotel and freshen up. He wasn’t about to argue with that request, only muttering the usual stuff about taking someone with her. She wondered how Gareth would feel about a few C1 personnel as company for dinner.
No one noticed her pushing back through the crowded CID room to leave the building alone. With the freedom of the streets again, she took the opportunity for a walk around Belgravia to clear her head before returning to the hotel. She felt fine, she decided, as she fronted up to the little mirror in her room. Wrung out, tacky from the heat, a bit puffed — but fine. Gareth would be here in an hour.
*
‘We’ve lost him.’ Sharon stopped, catching Zig’s elbow and trying to stop her too. Zig shook herself free and disappeared round the next corner, but Sharon couldn’t run any more. She bent over, clutching at the stitch in her side and heaving deep breaths. They hadn’t been running fast, but had kept up a vigorous pace for what must have been at least an hour. Sol had his own way of moving around — alternating between phases of slow meandering and sudden darts — until, that is, he broke into a sudden charge and led them in a series of loops around the back streets.
Somewhere near the Brompton hospital he disappeared from sight and they’d done a complete run around — splitting up to skirt round the hospital from opposite directions — before they caught a glimpse of him sauntering across the main road and causing a bus to veer off course as he stepped into its path. They crossed after him, only to see him double back, shooting across the stream of traffic like a cat. That was the last time they saw him. They’d cantered around every block in the area, passed the police station twice, and now Sharon had had enough.