by Ellis, Tim
There was a woman lying on the floor in the centre with an abdominal wound, and it looked as though she was being tended to by Daniel Frye – the theme park manager.
Another police officer, on the far side of the cavern, aimed a carbine at the cloaked figure and fired three shots in quick succession. Each bullet hit it’s mark. The cloaked figure let go of his victim who splattered onto the floor into his own blood pool, and then collapsed on top of him.
Strange looking animals in an array of different sized cages were pacing about, screeching , or rattling the bars.
On the far side he saw Kline enter the cavern through a crack in the rock. She was wearing a bullet proof vest and carrying a rifle. He was glad to see her, but wondered what she was doing here and why she had a gun.
He was about to signal her when he noticed out of the corner of his eye the cloaked figure drag himself up.
How was that possible?
The gunman – who Quigg guessed was DI Caesar because he could just make out a flash of rank on the shoulder tabs – put another five bullets into the cloaked figure, who collapsed again and stayed down this time.
Again, he was about to signal Kline when he saw her aim the rifle she was carrying at Caesar’s head and pull the trigger.
What the . . . ?
An explosion made him stagger, and a ball of fire engulfed the place where the cloaked figure had been.
He looked at the children. They were wondering whether to stay where they were, or to make a run for it. He wanted to get to Kline, but he knew that he had to guide the children to safety. It was, after all, his fault that they were down here.
Another explosion shook the cavern and started a fire on the far side.
It was time to go.
‘Quick,’ he said to the children, and ushered them into the tunnel that they’d entered by.
More explosions detonated in the cavern. A ball of flame shot up the tunnel and nearly engulfed them. Soon, the kids were galloping ahead, and he was left on his own. They certainly didn’t want a copper accompanying them outside and finding out where they were going.
He sat down with his back against the wall, closed his eyes and rested his ankle. Who had that been underneath the cloak? The coppers must have been DI Caesar and another of his team. What were they doing there? Where were the rest of his team? What was Kline doing shooting another police officer? Why was Daniel Frye in that cavern? Who was the injured woman on the floor? What were the strange creatures in the cages? Why had they blown the cavern up? What did it all have to do with Cora Jiggins and the eight murders in Room 13?
At this stage of the investigation he should have had more answers than questions, but he didn’t. In fact, he was no closer to identifying and catching the killer.
He fell into a dreamless sleep.
***
She didn’t really believe she was going to kill DI Caesar until she actually pulled the trigger. Was she a bad person? She guessed she was. A murderer – someone who should be locked in a prison cell with no hope of parole. She didn’t feel bad, or guilty, or remorseful.
There was no doubt in her mind that he would have killed her had he got the chance. In a way, it was a pre-emptive self defensive strike. If she’d waited until he killed her to retaliate it would probably have been too late. The fact that his death also served another purpose – revenge – was neither here nor there.
At one point, she thought she’d be trapped in that cavern. She was trying to help the man and the injured woman until she saw what was in the cages. Those creatures were like something from the pits of hell – half human and half-something else. Then she noticed that the man was Daniel Frye, and the woman . . . had a clown outfit on.
‘Help us?’ Frye said.
‘Tell me what’s been going on. What are these creatures in the cages?’
‘Once we get out of here, I’ll tell you everything.’
She aimed the rifle at him. ‘Tell me everything now, or you’ll never leave.’
Explosions continued to rip through the cavern, but she stood and listened to what Frye and the woman said. The more she heard, the less she believed. And yet, it coincided with the story DC Bouette had told her.
Frye passed her a Queen’s Diamond Jubilee tin. She opened the lid cautiously, pulling a face when she saw seven shrivelled penises inside.
‘This is Cora Jiggins,’ he said, indicating the woman.
‘And what the hell are you doing here?’
‘I’m her eighth victim.’
‘I don’t . . .’
Part of the cavern roof collapsed. She looked away, and when she turned back Cora Jiggins and Daniel Frye had disappeared. She knew she had to get out then, or she’d die there.
She took the tin with her, and left through the fissure in the rock. The tunnel was filled with dust and debris and she struggled to breathe. She needed to keep low and move quickly to get beyond it.
Now what?
DC Bouette would tell Inspector Quigg she’d been locked in the cell. He might come after her. Well, if he did, she’d meet him on her way back. She would liked to have kept the rifle and ammunition, because she had another two people to kill, but she knew she’d have to give it back.
Before, she’d been content to lock the past away in a box in a dark recess of her mind and get on with her life, but Inspector Quigg getting those swabs re-tested had brought it all back to her. Sitting in that cell had given her time to think . . . Think about what two men had done to her all that time ago, and how they’d got away with it. Well, they’d got away with their crime for far too long. Now, she knew who they were: Rufus Murdoch and Paul Rundle, and she was going to make them suffer as she had suffered. The courts were for other people. Tallie Kline had her own brand of justice.
Soon, she came upon Pogo’s Place again and had a quick look in all the cells. She hadn’t realised how much they stank of urine, faeces and death. She definitely needed a long hot bath to wash the stench of what had happened away. There were still four dead people spread over three of the cells. She’d have to make sure someone came back for them.
She climbed onto the railway track and continued her journey back to civilisation, back to the lie that was her life.
Chapter Twenty-One
‘Inspector?’
He slowly opened his eyes. His arse was dead. He had pins and needles in his left foot, and he needed a pee.
‘Are you there, Inspector?’
What the hell was that? He found the torch, switched it on and pointed it up and down the tunnel to check that he was still alone.
‘Inspector?’
‘I don’t recall ordering a wake-up call, Mulley,’ he said into the radio.
‘You’re still alive?’
‘Unless you believe that the dead can communicate with the living via radio.’
‘We were worried.’
‘Very kind, but I’m all right. Did the children get out?’
‘Little bastards. Should I tell you what I’d like to do to them?’
‘I don’t think that would serve any useful purpose.’
‘Yeah well . . . So, where are you?’
‘Still in the tunnel. I sat down for a rest and must have dropped off. My ankle’s a bit the worse for wear.’
He checked his watch. Six-thirty! Bloody hell, he’d been asleep for about three hours.
‘Do you want us to come in and get you?’
‘No, I’ll be all right. I’m on my way back out now. It’ll probably take me an hour or more. A bacon sandwich wouldn’t go amiss though.’
‘Right you are, Inspector.’
***
Once he’d reached daylight and fresh air, Mulley helped him back to the hoarding and then through the hole. A bacon sandwich and a hot cup of coffee had been acquired from the restaurant and was sitting on the buggy seat waiting for him.
‘You’re a lifesaver, Mr Mulley,’ he said, unwrapping the sandwich, taking a bite and savouring the taste. ‘Mmmm.’
‘That Donna Wood in the restaurant cooks a mean bacon sarnie. There’s always a queue for her sarnies.’
He switched on his mobile, listened to the message from Lucy and grinned. ‘I’m the father of a baby girl.’
‘Congratulations, Inspector.’
‘Thank you.’ He took another bite of the bacon sarnie. ‘I see you managed to get Debbie King out of the hole.’
‘The whole sordid episode was videoed for YouTube. It’s had over a million hits already and gone viral.’
‘I’m sure Miss King appreciates you making her famous.’
He laughed. ‘It’s the least we could do for one of our own.’
They arrived back at the Waterbury at nine fifteen. He looked like a tramp who had been sleeping rough for weeks. He saw Perkins first.
‘Tell me what’s been happening, Perkins.’
‘You’ll have to come with me, Sir.’
‘I’ve only just sat down.’
‘Otherwise, I won’t be able to tell you.’
He hobbled up the steps of the hotel, and Perkins helped him along the corridor and into the cleaner’s cupboard with the broken door.
Perkins pushed the door closed.
The light went on.
In front of him was a naked man who had the biggest penis Quigg had ever seen. He pulled the poster off the back of the door, screwed it up and dropped it on the floor. ‘No one has a penis that large.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Perkins said, and smiled.
He turned a plastic mop bucket upside down and sat on it. ‘Why have you brought me in here, Perkins? I certainly hope this case hasn’t psychologically damaged you in any way.’
Perkins slid down the wall and sat on the cold concrete floor. ‘Two men came to see me.’
‘I’m very pleased for you.’
‘They were from the security services, and they made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.’
‘I see.’
‘They reminded me that I’d already signed the Official Secrets Act, and I was to keep my mouth shut.’
‘That goes without saying. About what?’
‘They also reminded me that if I had the urge to open my mouth they had a pair of concrete boots that were exactly my size, and a GPS location in the Thames where nobody would ever find me.’
‘I don’t think the security services are allowed to threaten you like that. You should submit a written complaint in triplicate.’
‘Also, I had to hand over the unknown biological material, and everything relating to it.’
‘What about the other DNA?’
‘I’ve still got that.’
‘Well, that’s one thing at least.’
‘Do you remember the Roswell UFO incident in July 1947?’
‘Not personally, but I’ve heard about it.’
‘On July 8, Walter Haut – the public information officer at the Royal American Air Force base in Roswell, New Mexico issued a statement that a flying saucer had been recovered and its occupants captured. The next day it was denied. Since then, the American government have continued to deny any such event occurred, and that the debris recovered was from an experimental high-altitude surveillance balloon belonging to a classified program named “Mogul”.’
‘Why are we in a cleaner’s cupboard talking about UFOs, Perkins?’
‘Because we were their allies and reasonably intelligent people, they gave us some.’
‘You’re not making yourself very clear, man. Gave us some what?’
‘It was all true. They’ve got a flying saucer and three dead aliens in Area 51 – have had since 1947. In 1950, the American government gave the British government . . . Well, their scientists gave our scientists actually . . . some of the alien biological material to play with.’
‘And you know this how?’
‘The two men told me.’
‘And you believed them?’
‘They had no reason to lie.’
‘They had every reason to lie. So, how does this affect us?’
‘That’s what it’s all been about – aliens.’
‘You’re confused, Perkins – and not for the first time, I might add. Do I look like a DI who investigates the murder of aliens?’
‘No, I don’t mean that.’
‘Well, I wish you’d say what you do mean, man.’
‘Cora Jiggins . . .’
‘Not another one? This place seems to be overrun with them – it’s a bit like an infestation.’
‘. . . Worked at Porton Down, which is one of the government’s most sensitive and secretive facilities for military research. It’s where the alien biological material has been kept all this time.’
‘My attention span is shortening by the second.’
‘Cora Jiggins was a scientist at Porton Down. She stole some of the alien biological material and set up a laboratory here in the park. She’s been doing illegal experiments – creating human-alien hybrids.’
He thought about the strange creatures in the cages, and the cloaked figure with the large hairy hand.
‘You saw something, didn’t you? Tell me.’
‘I didn’t see anything, Perkins. Carry on with your fairy story.’
‘Well, that’s it really. Except . . .’
‘I knew there’d be something else. There’s always something else with you.’
‘. . . Cora Jiggins saw a chance to disappear for good, so she fabricated her murder in Room 13 on the anniversary of her ancestors’ murder.’
‘And the other seven victims?’
Perkins shrugged. ‘We still only know one of them, but if I’m right they’ll be rapists or something like that.’
‘I see, so you’re telling me you’ve solved my case for me?’
He grinned. ‘I suppose I have, haven’t I? The person who murdered Cora Jiggins was Cora Jiggins. That’s why she put everything through the meat grinder – to hide the fact that her body wasn’t actually there. The other seven represented her victims.’
‘You may have solved the murder this time, but what about those from 1903 and 1973?’
‘Ah!’
‘What does that mean?’
‘The American owners of Grisly Park added the extension onto the rear of the Waterbury and created the shifting walls after 1973. That explains how Cora Jiggins was able to get in and out of the room this time. It doesn’t provide any answers to the murders from the past.’
‘So, what are you telling me?’
‘That we haven’t solved those murders.’
The door opened.
‘People are talking, you know.’
‘Let them talk. Perkins and I are very happy together, aren’t we, Perkins?’
‘Speak for yourself, Sir.’
‘So, where’ve you been, Kline?’ he said. ‘We’ve been looking everywhere for you.’
‘Angela Coveney has brought me up to date with what’s been happening. She said you hadn’t looked for me once.’
‘Well, we would have done if we’d known where you were.’
‘If you’d have known where I was you wouldn’t have needed to look for me.’
‘Let’s not quibble over the ifs and buts, Kline. We’re glad you’re in one piece, and happy to see your smiling face again. Aren’t we, Perkins?’
‘Welcome back, Constable Kline.’
‘Thank you Dr Perkins.’
‘Dr! I didn’t know you were a Dr?’
‘You didn’t ask.’
‘You’re not a Dr of aliens, are you?’
‘Forensic science.’
‘How boring. Right, I think we need to vacate the premises.’ He pushed himself up, and grimaced when he put weight on his foot. ‘It’s time I went home.’
Kline pushed a Queen’s Diamond Jubilee tin under his nose. ‘You might be interested in what I’ve got in this tin, Sir.’
‘No, I don’t think I would. Perkins might be, but not me. I’m sure I’d have nightmares about what’s in that tin.’
<
br /> Perkins took the tin off Kline, opened it and smiled. ‘Shrivelled penises! Just what I wanted. We should be able to put names to the seven victims now.’
‘You’re a ghoul, Perkins.’
He stepped out of the cupboard, but then stopped. ‘You kept some, didn’t you?’
The corner of Perkins’ mouth quivered. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sir.’
‘Come on, Kline. Take me home.’
‘We’ve still got the Audi, haven’t we?’
‘It’s Coveney’s fault. She ripped the guts out of it and said we could blame you because you were probably dead anyway.’
‘That’s not how she tells it.’
‘She’s a damned liar. And while we’re on the subject of lies, do you know about this chart?’
‘The one that you’re at the bottom of?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘No.’
They went into the lopsided command centre. Coveney, Hanson and Amies were in there.
‘Glad to see you ladies still look like supermodels,’ he said, as he tried to sit down on a chair. ‘Any chance of a coffee?’
‘You’ve replaced Inspector Quigg, have you?’ Amies asked.
‘Very funny, Amies. Ha, ha. I know I look like something the cat dragged in with a dead rat, but it’s hardly my fault. I need to go home and take a shower like a human being.’
Hanson held her nose. ‘I’ll say.’
‘That smell belongs to Kline, not the person who’s going to write a glowing report about you soon.’
‘You’re quite right, Sir. You’re so close together my nose got confused.’
‘Since you destroyed the Audi, Coveney, we need a car to take us home.’
Coveney nodded, picked up the phone receiver and dialled a local number. ‘Is the investigation over now then?’
‘Well, yes. Hasn’t Perkins told you that Cora Jiggins killed Cora Jiggins and the seven people in that room?’
‘Yes, but what about the other deaths?’
‘Go on?’
‘You know that reporter Tolliver is dead?’
A wave of sadness washed over him. ‘No, I didn’t know that. I was getting to like her.’