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Trial by Execution

Page 25

by T. M. E. Walsh


  They saw a man talking to a woman in uniform.

  ‘Probably an FLO,’ Claire said as they drove on.

  Simon turned down a slope and they saw the rough wall ahead on his right-hand side. ‘Looking at the map, that’s our way in.’ He parked next to a stile and killed the engine. They both got out of the car and stared into the black landscape.

  Gone was the pleasant warmth of early evening.

  There was a chill in the air now. It cooled the sweat on Claire’s bare arms.

  Simon went to the boot of the car and handed her a sealed Tyvek suit, one of two Claire had managed to grab before she’d left the station.

  ‘Best leave these off for the moment,’ he said.

  She nodded as she bundled it into the bag that was secured across her body.

  She fished out her torch and switched it on.

  She swept it over the stile and saw nothing but patchy clumps of grass and chalk. In the distance, she knew, were trees, dotted about over thick scrubland.

  Simon shut the boot, making her jump.

  He stared at her.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, pushing past him.

  She secured her foot on the stile and used her upper body to haul herself over and lower herself onto the steps the other side.

  Simon followed.

  He switched on his torch and swung the light in a wide arc, penetrating the darkness as far as possible.

  ‘It’s not too late to turn back,’ he said, the enormity of the task ahead suddenly sinking in.

  ‘We need to find where Skye was kept. This needs to end.’

  She started to walk ahead and he put his arm out, stopping her.

  ‘If we find the right bunker,’ he said. ‘And it’s a big if - there are at least a hundred of them in this area alone - If we find it, we call for back-up, Claire.’ He tried to read her, but she kept her face neutral. ‘Claire? That’s the deal, remember?’

  She drew in a deep breath and nodded.

  ‘I mean it.’

  ‘Yes,’ she snapped. ‘I get it. Now can we start moving?’ She looked around her, squinting to make out shapes in what little light they did have. ‘This place is like something out of Evil Dead.’

  CHAPTER 49

  The Wolf

  In the dark.

  In the shadows.

  That’s where I’ve been, where I’ll remain when the time comes. My time is nearly over.

  They will surely find the bunker soon and what’s inside. It’s inevitable, but I can’t worry about that any more.

  I fell into the trap that so many of us do, the thing we take for granted: time.

  I thought I’d have time to clear the evidence. I’ve messed up. I know that and I’m okay with it. I can see an end to all this but I should have finished Skye off before she had the chance to escape. But that’s just it – I didn’t think she would have. I didn’t think she was strong enough. That’s a lesson learned the hard way and now I’ve had to abandon earlier plans.

  The bunker. She’ll find it, that detective.

  Skye left a trail of blood.

  Follow the blood-red road, Claire Winters… follow it right to the pit that should’ve been Skye’s grave.

  Chances are Skye won’t survive anyway – she would have lost a lot of blood, but why didn’t I end her when I had the chance?

  I ask myself this but I know the answer. I wanted her to suffer. Suffer the most, suffer more than the other two.

  Helena and Tilly. I still don’t feel anything for them, despite what I did.

  I need to finish this, put an end to what I – no – to what Knox started. What has been born from his crimes, the stain he’s left on this world.

  I never expected to come this far. I didn’t expect to fall so deep, but I might make it out of this yet.

  If I’m quick.

  In the dark.

  In the shadows.

  PART THREE

  ‘While seeking revenge, dig two graves – one for yourself.’

  Douglas Horton

  27/07/1891–21/08/1968

  (American Protestant clergyman and academic leader)

  CHAPTER 50

  It was close to eleven-thirty when Claire and Simon found the first one. The entrance to the bunker looked like an open mouth, silently inviting them inside. Rotting scrub draped over the entrance and when Claire shone her torch over the small opening, the beam barely penetrated more than four feet in front of them.

  An earthy, musty smell seemed almost to seep through the brick walls as the bunker descended down and into the side of the hill. A band of spider web clung to the walls, and spread halfway across the opening.

  Empty crisp packets, squashed beer cans and scraps of pornographic magazines littered the immediate entrance.

  ‘Kids,’ Claire said. ‘Using it as some kind of den.’

  Simon leaned in closer, shining his torch inside. Flecks of dust and gnats were highlighted, floating in the light. He sniffed.

  ‘All I smell is the earth.’

  Claire squinted, hoping it would allow her to see further than the light could penetrate. ‘I don’t think anyone’s been in there for a long time.’ She shone her torch onto the litter in the entrance. ‘The empty crisp packets,’ she said. ‘The packaging is at least twenty years old, look at the branding.’

  He nodded.

  She shone the torch at the spider webs.

  ‘The webs haven’t been disturbed, they’re too thick, and look, the bundles of dead things wrapped up. If Skye or anyone else had been through here, they would’ve been disturbed.’

  Simon stood upright. ‘How deep do they go, do you think?’

  She shrugged. ‘Deep enough.’ She took a few tentative steps into the entrance, ducking down low, careful not to touch the heavy spider web. She saw the big, black spider scurry up into the brickwork, out of sight.

  Claire shone her torch, arm outstretched, willing the light to penetrate further inside. A wall of brick ahead was illuminated and she saw it cut sharply off to her left, leading to who knew what. ‘Possibly another narrow passage, or maybe it opens up into a storage room?’

  Claire looked at the ground where it was thick with dead leaves, litter, and crawling with some kind of beetle she’d never seen before.

  More immediately noticeable, and more importantly, the ground didn’t look disturbed.

  ‘No one’s been here for a long time,’ she said, backing out of the bunker entrance. When she stood up straight outside, the chill in the air was comforting, compared to the heat that was trapped inside.

  ‘Maybe we should wait until morning, come back with a proper search team,’ Simon said. ‘It took us half an hour just to find this one.’

  He could barely see her face, so he raised his torch a little. ‘Claire?’

  She stared into the bunker. ‘Let’s keep looking.’

  ‘This isn’t a good idea.’

  ‘You go back to the car if you like,’ she said, already walking further into the scrub. ‘I’m going on.’

  He quickened his pace to keep up with her, mindful of where he was placing his feet on the uneven ground. One careless stumble, a foot dropping into one of the many potholes hidden under the grass, and you could easily throw your ankle out. Getting stuck out here during the day was bad enough, but at night? He tried not to dwell on it.

  Claire ploughed on ahead, seemingly unfazed.

  She was a long way from him already. He’d only taken his eyes off her back for a few seconds while he navigated a treacherous stretch that needed his full concentration.

  ‘Claire,’ he hissed.

  She didn’t look back but said something he couldn’t make out.

  He tried to catch her in the light of his own torch, but she was now out of reach of it. He called after he again and this time her reply sounded even farther off.

  The next time he called after her, hauling himself through a dense thicket of
bushes, he heard no reply. He could no longer see the light from her torch.

  His feet skidded across harder ground, chalk and gravel, punctuated with patches of grass. He stopped to catch his breath. He looked behind him.

  Small lights twinkled in the distance. The Cain family home, lights on in every room. On the horizon, he saw the far-off lights of another city. Luton, he guessed.

  He looked back and shone his torch towards where Claire had carried on ahead.

  There was no sign of her.

  CHAPTER 51

  Claire felt the ground suddenly drop down, a steep slope she hadn’t seen under the thick grass. She felt tendril-like blades wrap around her ankles and, before she could stop herself, she fell forward.

  The torch sailed from her grasp. She heard a prang of plastic against metal, then the thump as it hit the ground. The light whipped around as it rolled farther down the slope.

  The palms of her hands skidded over the rough terrain, sharp stones hidden underneath the grass cutting her skin as she tried to break her fall.

  She lay on the ground, her cheek pressed against it. She breathed in deep, smelled the earth, felt the flicker of the blades of grass tickle her cheek.

  She looked ahead of her.

  The torch had come to a standstill a little way off from where she lay. It meant her immediate surroundings were plunged into darkness.

  She could hear her own breath coming in heavy gasps as she willed her eyes to adjust to the dark. She pushed herself upright and sat for a few moments on the ground, legs out to the side of her. She looked around as she dusted her palms off.

  They stung.

  She felt a trickle of wet slide down her wrists. Even in the darkness she knew her hands were bleeding. She felt gravel in the cuts as she ran her nail around the edges.

  She looked towards the torch.

  It had come to a stop about ten feet away, having rolled off to the right of her. She called out to Simon but got no reply.

  Just how far behind had he fallen?

  She pushed herself to her feet, dusted off her trousers and pulled away the few strands of scrub that still twisted around her ankles.

  She walked towards the torch, taking more care with each step.

  The torch illuminated the heavy chalk deposits on the ground. Claire stopped in her tracks as she stared at it.

  How had it veered off to the right at such an angle?

  She tried to recall the moment when she fell.

  Her hand had shot out, losing its grip on the torch. It had flown from her grasp, forwards, dead ahead, not to the side. Claire replayed what happened in her head.

  She closed her eyes.

  The sound of plastic against metal.

  She opened her eyes.

  The torch had hit something, making it deflect to the far right.

  She looked to her left, just a little way behind her. She squinted. She could just about make out a shape in the dark. Something that came up to about waist height.

  She picked up the torch at her feet and shone the light around to her left, and it revealed what looked like a metal dustbin.

  She walked to it.

  It was a metal drum container of some sort.

  It was rusty, and blackened with scorch marks inside. She sniffed, smelled the remnants of dying embers and the hint of burnt material.

  Someone had very recently started a fire.

  She lowered her torch and saw the ground farther off to the left had less scrub, more gravel and chalk fragments.

  She saw footprints – or more precisely, shoe prints. Just one set by the looks of it. She followed their path in the chalky dirt until the prints gave way to tyre tracks.

  She stopped.

  She shone the torch ahead of her. A vehicle had made its way through here recently.

  There must be another entrance to the quarry, much further up from where she and Simon had parked.

  Claire turned to where the torch had landed and shone the light on the ground, watching her step.

  Twigs snapped as the ground gave way to more thick undergrowth. She bent her head to walk under low-hanging tree branches. About another twenty feet in and the ground showed signs of disturbance.

  The grass was flattened.

  The overhang of tree branches blocked out the sun in the day so it was damper here. Claire could smell it in the air. In darkness, no moonlight could penetrate through the canopy.

  She edged forward and the light from the torch picked up the dark spots on the ground, dotted over leaves and on the white patches of powdery chalk.

  Claire knew it could be blood. If it was, it wasn’t fresh, but it wasn’t too old either.

  Her heart played a staccato beat in her chest, growing more intense as she realised she was close to finding something.

  She raised the torch. Felt herself suck in a deep breath and hold it.

  She saw the overhang of ivy, curling and clawing its way into red brick.

  The mouth of the bunker seemed to appear from nowhere.

  Claire froze, feet firmly rooted to the spot.

  All she could hear was the blood rushing in her ears and the tap, tap, tap of insects hitting the glass that covered the bulb of the torch.

  Senses heightened, she swore she could hear their wings flutter, bodies contract, tiny feet twitch.

  The mouth of the bunker led into a thick darkness beyond, which felt like it was something she could almost touch.

  Claire could’ve sworn she could feel the heat of it.

  She knew she should wait for Simon.

  Reason and common sense begged her to, but she felt drawn into that darkness like it was a black hole in space, devoid of time, waiting to swallow her whole and give up its secrets.

  Carefully, and as quietly as she could, she pulled open the Tyvek suit. Gripping the torch between her teeth, she climbed into it, pulling the hood over her hair.

  She left her bag on the ground and, when she was ready, lowered her head and stepped inside the bunker.

  Tendrils of ivy brushed against her face, got caught in the hood of her suit, scratched at her cheek.

  Her skin burned as if it were on fire.

  CHAPTER 52

  Simon heard Claire call him, somewhere off in the distance. She’d moved further and faster than he’d thought she had.

  He pushed ahead through dense thickets of bush and scrub, until he came to a clearing, flanked by trees.

  He stopped and swung the torchlight ahead of him, arms outstretched.

  His eyes lowered to the clumpy soil at his feet. It was loose, newly disturbed. When he walked ahead a few more feet, he lowered the torch and then he saw the pit.

  He was mere inches away from toppling into it.

  It was large, but deeper than he’d first thought, although he couldn’t see how deep it really was; too much of the soil had collapsed in on itself.

  He saw dark patches in the torchlight, on the soil. Could it be blood? If it was, it had been spilt recently.

  He bent down on his haunches and shone the torch closer to the ground. Something caught his eye. He picked it up.

  He turned it under the light, between his fingertips.

  It looked like a fingernail.

  He lowered the torch back to the ground and saw a few more.

  His thoughts immediately turned to Skye. Claire had told him Skye had been found covered in dirt and soil, as well as her own blood.

  He looked into the collapsed pit. This was meant to have been a grave.

  But Skye had clawed her way out.

  His thoughts went back to Claire.

  He edged around the pit, and ran as best he could over the uneven ground into the thicket of trees.

  CHAPTER 53

  The air was heavy with the smell of dirt, sweat and something copper. Claire had to lower her head, stoop at the waist to move along the first passage into the bunker.

  When she came
to the brick wall at the end, another passage turned off to the left. Claire shone the torch ahead.

  Three car tyres were stacked on top of each other in a far corner at the end of this next passageway. Litter – crisp and sweet wrappers, some decades old – and dead leaves lay on the concrete floor. Graffiti snaked its way over the walls on both sides.

  She walked slowly to the end of the passageway and the ceiling rose up at the far end, relieving the pressure on her back.

  Now she had a choice: go left or right.

  She shone the torch left. Broken bricks littered the floor, along with a used syringe, a broken bottle and a few squashed beer cans.

  Then Claire saw the rusty metal pole lying to one side, partially hidden under dead leaves and muck. She picked it up, shaking off the spider web that stuck to it.

  She then gripped it firmly in her right hand.

  She shone the torch into the right passageway.

  This passage appeared to lead to a wide opening at the other end, although she couldn’t see what lay beyond that.

  She raised the pole a little higher and headed right.

  No light could penetrate down here; apart from her torch, there was no other light to be seen.

  When she stood at the mouth of the opening she shone the torch inside. It was a room of some sort, about ten by ten feet. Claire guessed it must have been used for storage at some point, but now it was empty, save for rubbish similar to that she’d already encountered.

  Backing out of the room, she saw the path led left again. This time there appeared to be several openings, other rooms leading off from it on the right-hand side.

  Claire edged towards the first room.

  She shone the torch inside.

  This room had more car tyres stacked high in a corner, but also a large cage. With something inside it that was growling at her.

  Claire saw two bright-brown eyes staring back at her. Two large, pointed ears, and a long snout, leading to a set of teeth in a mouth that snarled as she approached.

  It was a Bullmastiff.

  Claire glanced over the cage, checking it was secure. She saw the padlock on the door and edged closer, making sure there was no one else in the room with them before she approached.

 

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