The Skulls Beneath Eternity Wharf (Quigg Book 4)

by Tim Ellis

  ‘Yes. Oh God, you don’t think...?’

  ‘I don’t think anything. Are you out of there yet?’

  She passed the phone to Ruth.

  ‘Hello, Quigg?’

  ‘Hello, Ruth. Is Duffy moving yet?’

  ‘She is reversing up now, and we’re driving down the road.’

  ‘Good. I’ll ring you soon.’

  ***

  He rang the Duty Sergeant’s number.

  ‘Sergeant Sanders.’

  ‘Christine, it’s DI Quigg.’

  ‘Do you still work here?’

  ‘Why, have you heard something?’

  ‘When you’re on the graveyard shift, you hear lots of weird stuff.’

  He didn’t want to get sucked into a conversation he couldn’t get out of. ‘Listen Christine, I live in a converted church on Godolphin Road in Shepherd’s Bush...’

  ‘That’s one of the weird things I’d heard.’

  ‘Yes, and...’

  ‘You live with two pregnant women.’

  ‘I’d rather not...’

  ‘That’s not what I heard.’

  ‘Anyway, I’d like you to...’

  ‘Don’t get me involved in your fantasies. I already have two children and a slob of a husband.’

  He felt as though he was pushing string uphill. ‘Christine, I need you to get a squad car round to that church. We have CCTV and a gate guard, but Duffy has just found the gates open and the guard missing.’

  ‘CCTV and a gate guard?’

  ‘It’s a long story, but I think there’s an intruder inside the grounds.’

  ‘And you want me to send a squad car?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m driving back from the hospital... You’ve heard about Walsh?’

  ‘No, what?’

  ‘Send the squad car, and then I’ll tell you about Walsh.’

  He heard her bark an order, and then he told her what had happened at Eternity Wharf.

  ‘You should have told me about Walsh first. I’ll organise a collection and flowers.’

  ‘Thanks, Christine.’

  ‘I knew you still worked here, you know?’

  ‘I had a feeling...’

  ‘You want to stop having those, they’ll get you into trouble.’

  ‘I think it’s too late for that.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s something else I’d heard. Right, I’m going to go now. There are many other poor souls out there that need my help.’

  The call ended.

  Where was Rafael Valdes? Why were the gates open? It could only mean one thing – the Apostles were after Lucy – the bastards. He hoped she had the presence of mind to hide in the tunnel – no one would find her there. Had Rafael Valdes betrayed them for a few pieces of silver, or was he dead? How did the Apostles know Lucy was inside? Did Valdes tell them, or was it the other guard – Enrique Balbis? Crap! They were meant to be Ruth’s people, he’d trusted that she’d known what she was doing, and as such hadn’t vetted them, but now...

  ***

  It was five to four by the time he arrived at the church. The gates were wide open. An empty squad car with its lights flashing was parked skewiff across the car park, and he couldn’t get in. He had to reverse out and park on the road.

  He locked the Saab and made his way into the compound, and up to the church. The door was ajar.

  ‘Hello?’ he shouted.

  ‘Who’s that? A voice bounced back at him.

  ‘DI Quigg.’

  ‘In here, Sir.’

  He went in just as an officer came out of Ruth’s living room and into the atrium.

  ‘Morning, Sir.’

  ‘Morning...?’

  ‘Oh, I’m PC Ian Moore, and my partner in the bedroom is PC Keith Ellis. We were told by Sergeant Sanders to wait here until you arrived.’

  ‘Okay good. Have you found anything?’

  ‘Yeah, you want to take a look in the bedroom.’

  He followed Moore through Ruth’s living quarters into the bedroom, said good morning to Ellis, and saw the blood on the floor and wall.

  ‘No body?’ he asked.

  Moore shook his head. ‘This is exactly how we found it. You can see that somebody slid down the wall and sat on the floor, and there’s bloody footprints leading out of the room.’

  He was worried. Was it Lucy’s blood? If it was, where was she? ‘Wait here,’ he said to the two officers, and hurried back through into the atrium. He pressed the butterfly. The floor opened up.

  ‘Lucy? Lucy, if you’re down there, you can come up now.’

  There was no response.

  Maybe she’s dying in a pool of blood. He walked down the steps.

  ‘Lucy?’

  He saw her then, sitting on the floor and pointing a gun at him.

  Holding up his hands in surrender he said softly, ‘Lucy, it’s Quigg. You’re safe now.’

  ‘I should blow your fucking brains out, Quigg. Where were you when I was fighting for my life?’

  She dropped the gun, and burst into tears.

  He picked her up and held her tight.

  ‘God, I was so scared.’

  ‘You’re safe now, whoever it was has gone.’

  ‘I’ll never be safe until we get those paedophile bastards.’

  ‘And that’s just what we’re going to do.’

  They climbed the steps and Quigg pressed the butterfly. He didn’t want anyone else to see the tunnel.

  ‘I shot the bastard in the chest. I don’t understand how he could get up and walk away.’

  ‘It’s good that he did, otherwise we would have had some explaining to do.’

  He called Moore and Ellis out.

  ‘She was hiding,’ he said in response to their questioning looks at Lucy.

  ‘What about the blood, Sir?’

  ‘You can leave it to me now, Moore.’

  He ushered them out. ‘Thanks very much for responding to the call, I’m grateful.’

  ‘What do you want us to put in our report?’

  ‘There was a break-in, but the perpetrator had left by the time you arrived. It was left with the occupant.’

  ‘And the blood?’

  ‘What blood?’

  Moore shrugged. ‘Come on, Keith, another incident dealt with.’

  Once Moore and Ellis had left Quigg phoned Duffy.

  ‘You can come back now, Duffy.’

  ‘Is Lucy okay?’

  ‘A bit shaken, but still in one piece. I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it when you get here.’

  He opened up the tunnel again, and walked down the steps. He picked up the gun, checked the safety catch was on, and slid it into his belt at the small of his back.

  ‘Lucy, are you up to some work?’

  ‘What work?’

  ‘I’ll make the coffee. I want you to find me a local security firm. At the moment, we have no security. Now would be a good time for the Apostles to try again.’

  She nodded. At the top of the steps she hesitated for a brief moment.

  ‘Fucking bastards,’ she said, and forced herself into the passageway.

  He walked outside, drove the Saab into the compound, and locked the gates. Then he made the coffee.

  ***

  Halcyon Security – according to Lucy – were the best in the area, had a bucketful of five-star reviews and glowing reports. Quigg phoned their emergency number at five o’clock, told them what he wanted, and within the hour they had two men and a German Shepherd called Monty on site. It was agreed that he would meet with the manager – Maggie Sheahan-Parry – later in the day at a mutually convenient time. He wanted the best security that the Apostle’s money could buy. It was through them that he needed the security, so it was only right and proper that they should pay.

  He’d just drifted off to sleep when his phone vibrated on the bedside cabinet.

  ‘Is that you, Quigg?’

  ‘It’s quarter past six in the mornin
g, mum.’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep from worrying about my house.’

  He’d forgotten all about his mum’s house. Builders were re-building it from scratch after those Apostle bastards had burnt it down. He’d used £250,000 of the £400,000 Lucy had managed to snaffle out of the insurance company to get it re-built. He’d kept £100,000 as his mum’s retirement fund. With the other £50,000 he had agreed certain modifications to the house, and employed a project manager to oversee the re-build.

  ‘Your house is in safe hands.’

  ‘Your hands aren’t safe, Quigg. You’re a dropper, always have been. I remember when...’

  ‘I’ve had a bad night, mum.’

  ‘Bad night? You don’t know what a bad night is. I toss and turn every night, you know? If it isn’t worrying about the house, it’s the heartache from an inconsiderate son, or the aches and pains I get from my rheumatiz, and...’

  ‘I’ll talk to the builders, get an update, find out when you can move in.’

  ‘Never, that’s when. Maggie Crenshaw thinks I’m part of the furniture, you know? I’ve been here so long she struggles to remember a time when I wasn’t here. And it’s all your fault, Quigg. If it weren’t for you, your poor old mother would be living happily in her own home. Instead, I’m like a squatter, my self-respect has been stripped bare, and...’

  ‘It won’t be long now, mum.’

  ‘You keep saying that, but I don’t think I’ll ever move into my new house, Quigg. I rang the Co-op Funeral Service yesterday to check that my policy was up-to-date, to make sure they’ve got the inscription right for my headstone, and that the gravedigger will be available. Don’t worry, I’ll leave you all the details. You won’t have to trouble yourself on my account, I know how busy you are.'

  ‘You’re going to live forever, mum.’

  ‘I know I’ll be dead long before I ever see my granddaughter again. Why haven’t I seen Phoebe since Christmas?’

  ‘There’s a slight problem.’

  ‘You’re the problem, Quigg. And what about all the grandchildren Mavourneen is meant to be giving me?’

  ‘It takes nine months to have a baby, mum.’

  ‘There’s somebody at the door. It’s all right, Maggie,’ he heard her shout. ‘It’s the hearse come to take me away. What’s that? No, don’t bother telling my son. Quigg’s far too busy to be bothered with his poor old mother turning in her grave. He’ll find out I’m gone one day, but IT’LL BE TOO LATE BY THEN, QUIGG,’ she shouted.

  The call abruptly ended.

  He sighed.

  ‘Your mum?’ Duffy said.

  All four of them were in Duffy’s bed. It was a bit of a squeeze, but snug. Ruth didn’t want to sleep in her bedroom until all the blood had been removed and the whole room had been re-painted. Lucy didn’t want to sleep on her own in the Chapel because the door had been smashed in, and she needed to be with people – just for tonight, or what was left of it.

  He made it quite clear that sex was not on the agenda. For one, he was completely knackered. For two, there wasn’t enough room. And for three, it would just be too weird. Ruth and Duffy didn’t want to because they felt fat and ugly. Lucy shrugged, wrapped an arm around him, and snuggled in. He felt her sobbing silently, and put his hand on top of hers.

  ‘Yes, it was my mum. She wants you to stop messing about and give birth to her grandchild now, Duffy.’

  ‘I’m only four months gone.’

  ‘I told her that.’

  ‘We will go round and see her,’ Ruth said from beneath the quilt.

  ‘She doesn’t know about you yet,’ he said to her.

  ‘Exactly, that is why we will go. If we wait for you to tell her, your children will have grown into adults.’

  He lay back down and closed his eyes. There were more important things to worry about. Maybe he could get an hour’s sleep before the day swallowed him up.

  Chapter Five

  It was five past nine when he woke up. He had to climb over Lucy to get out of bed. Neither her, nor the other two stirred.

  After a shave, shower, and four pieces of toast he rang Maggie Sheahan-Parry and arranged to meet her at the Halcyon Security offices at four-thirty. They were situated on Wood Lane near the BBC Television Centre, which was on the way to the hospital, so he’d be in the right place to go to the hospital afterwards. Thinking of the hospital, he wondered how Walsh was bearing up. It wasn’t on his "To Do List", but he phoned the orthopaedic ward anyway.

  ‘Nurse Alison Woodford, how can I help?’

  ‘I’m Detective Inspector Quigg. My partner was brought in earlier – Detective Constable Heather Walsh – with a broken arm and leg...’

  ‘She went to the theatre?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘Are you a relative?’

  ‘No, I’m her boss.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Sir, it’s hospital policy not to give out details of patients to non-relatives.’

  ‘I don’t want details, I simply want to know if she’s all right?’

  ‘She’s as well as can be expected under the circumstances.’

  ‘Which means exactly what?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t...’

  ‘...Give out details. Yes, I understand that...’

  ‘Clearly you don’t, Sir, or you wouldn’t keep asking me for...’

  ‘Is she still alive?’

  ‘Yes, she’s still alive, Sir.’

  ‘See, that wasn’t too difficult, was it? Did they manage to...’

  ‘That’s all the information I can...’

  He slammed the phone down.

  Before he left, he hid the gun behind a loose stone in the tunnel. As he was looking for a place to hide the gun, he realised that he didn’t have anywhere to call his own. There was nowhere he could go – that was his – to be on his own and contemplate the nature of the universe. He would have to rectify that little problem as soon as he had a minute. He also wrote a note and put it next to the phone. It said:

  To whom it may concern: 1. Get Lucy’s door fixed; 2. Arrange for a computer terminal to be put in the tunnel; 3. Arrange for a shutter company to install steel shutters on all doors and widows that can be controlled from the inside; 4. Arrange for cleaning/painting of Ruth’s bedroom; 5. Arrange for EP to attend meeting at 8 p.m. See you all later, Q.

  EP was, of course, Emma Potter – the investigative journalist from the London Standard. She’d found out that Sir Peter Langham had a man following him. As a consequence he’d had to tell her what was going on, and bring her into the team so that she didn’t get herself killed.

  Straining on its chain, Monty snarled at him as he walked to his car.

  ‘I’m one of the good guys,’ he explained to the dog.

  ‘To Monty you’re fresh meat,’ his handler – David Johns – said with a smile. ‘The only thing stopping him from tearing you to bits is me.’

  ‘I hope you know the difference between the good, the bad, and the ugly?’

  ‘I’m slowly getting the hang of it, Mr Quigg.’

  ‘That’s good to hear.’

  ***

  They were in Oval Road in Camden Town, having walked through Jim Henson’s Creature Workshop – he of the Muppets and Dark Crystal – into the basement.

  Bartholomew passed James a yellow hard hat with a searchlight moulded into the plastic. ‘Here, you’d better put this on, James. And leave your bowler hat and umbrella here – you won’t need them where we’re going.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘And switch on the searchlight.’ He unlocked the door to the basement, and began to descend the concrete steps.

  James did as he was told, and tentatively followed his friend into the darkness. ‘Where the devil are we going, Bartholomew?’

  ‘It’s a surprise.’

  ‘You know how I hate surprises.’

  ‘Not far now.’

  They were twenty-one feet underground.

  ‘Are you sure we should be
here, Bartholomew?’

  ‘I had to bribe the manager of the workshop to let us make the descent, and sign a disclaimer...’

  ‘A disclaimer?’

  ‘Apparently, there are health and safety issues about possible flooding...’

  ‘Flooding?’

  ‘There’s no need to look so concerned, James...’

  ‘Concerned! I can’t swim, Bartholomew.’

  Bartholomew laughed. The laugh ricocheted off the Victorian brick walls in the Camden catacombs, and disappeared into the darkness. ‘Swimming would be the least of your problems, James.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘The source of any flooding would be Camden’s sewers.’

  ‘Dear God. What possessed you to bring me down here, Bartholomew?’

  They began walking along the tunnel.

  ‘These passages were constructed in the 19th century, and extend from Primrose Hill to Camden Lock.’

  ‘You sound like a tour guide, Bartholomew. I hope we’re not going to walk all the way to Primrose Hill.’

  Bartholomew turned right into another passageway.

  ‘They were used as stables for horses and pit ponies working on the railways.’

  James sniffed. ‘I thought I could smell something. Oh God, I hear water.’

  ‘Don’t worry, James, it’s not the biblical flood, merely an underground river for canal boats. Of course, there are no boats down here now, but when the Victorians were busy constructing their railways and tunnels it was a regular metropolis down here.’

  ‘Most interesting. Can we go back now?’

  ‘You can imagine that during the course of these building works people died. They certainly weren’t as conscious of health and safety issues as we are today.’

  ‘Dying was an occupational hazard.’

  ‘Exactly, James.’

  ‘This has been most illuminating, but I must get back...’

  ‘Last night an opportunity presented itself.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘My man inside Quigg’s Fort called me when the hacker – Uptown Girl – was left in there on her own.’

  ‘Ah, she was there all along.’

  Bartholomew nodded. ‘For a specified amount of money he agreed to disappear and leave the gates open.’