The Skulls Beneath Eternity Wharf (Quigg Book 4)

by Tim Ellis

  ‘At last.’

  ‘I contacted my fixer, who sent a man inside to dispose of our little problem.’

  ‘Excellent, so Quigg only has a harem of two now?’

  ‘Unfortunately, my fixer had to send a team in to extract the assassin who, it appeared, had been assassinated himself.’

  ‘Another failure, Bartholomew. You know how I hate failure?’

  ‘Yes I do, James. That is why we’re down here.’

  ‘You’ve lost me, old boy.’

  Bartholomew withdrew a gun from the inside of his coat, pulled a silencer from his pocket, and began attaching it to the gun. ‘It’s either you or me, James.’

  ‘You’re going to kill me?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘And leave me down here?’

  ‘Most definitely.’

  ‘The river?’

  ‘No one will ever find you.’

  ‘How sad. I don’t suppose...?’

  Bartholomew pointed the gun at James’ heart and pulled the trigger. ‘Sorry, old boy, time for me to move up. I hated being your lackey.’

  Attaching the net full of rocks he’d prepared previously to his friend’s feet he pushed it into the river. The body was pulled over the edge and into the water. ‘Bon voyage, James,’ he said, and saluted.

  He made his way back to the Creature Workshop, collected James’ bowler hat and umbrella, and disposed of them in a bin outside. It was time to take the Apostles forward, but first he had the little matter of Quigg to deal with. It was not the end of the month, but he would call a meeting anyway. Not least, because they needed a new member, and he would also show them the nearly completed underground complex in Sevenoaks.

  ***

  ‘What’s going on, Inspector?’ someone from the mob of reporters outside the warehouse shouted at him. ‘Nobody will talk to us.’

  ‘That’s because when we do speak to you there are often significant gaps between what we say and what you report. A number of my colleagues believe that we should just let you write whatever you feel like. Cut out the middle man so to speak.’

  There was a ripple of laughter. ‘You should get yourself an agent, Inspector.’

  ‘Yesterday two people fell through the rotten floorboards of the warehouse behind me. The man is dead, and the woman is in a critical condition at Hammersmith Hospital. Beneath the warehouse is a man-made cavern, which contains a number of skulls. As yet, we have no idea where the skulls have come from, who they belonged to, or whether there has even been a crime. What I can tell you is that we have a highly skilled team of people working round the clock to ascertain exactly what we’ve uncovered. Thank you.’ He certainly wasn’t going to tell them that there were over a thousand skulls, or about the torture devices, or that there were twelve caverns, or... In fact, the least he told them the better.

  ‘Are they recent or old skulls?’

  ‘I’ve told you everything I know. Once I get back down there I might be given more information. You’ve often reported that the police are the last to know anything.’

  ‘Very funny. Where’s DC Walsh?’

  ‘I’m glad you asked me that. DC Walsh was injured last night in the line of duty. Part of the cavern collapsed, and she suffered a broken leg, but she’ll be back on her feet in no time. In the interim, and on a temporary basis only, DC Tallie Kline will be assisting me with the investigation.’

  A whisper came from behind him. ‘You hate me, don’t you?’

  He turned around to see a waif-like female. Her chestnut brown hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, which emphasised her large dark eyes, small ears, and thin lips. ‘I don’t even know you, Kline.’ He turned back to the reporters. ‘When I have more information, I shall call a press conference.’

  ‘I don’t like my name in the papers, and I don’t like being called Kline.’

  He took hold of her elbow and directed her towards the warehouse entrance. ‘Let’s get one thing clear from the start, Kline. I’m the Inspector, and you’re the Constable. While you’re working for me, I’ll be calling you Kline and you can call me sir.’

  She shook her arm free of his grip. ‘I don’t like being touched by men either.’

  ‘I can see we’re going to get along just fine.’

  ‘How do you work that out?’

  ‘Because I’m the boss. Now, if you were the boss I think we’d be in trouble. So, tell me about yourself? All I’ve been told is that you hate men, you’re a crazy bitch, and nobody likes working with you.’ He left out the bit about her being hot – he didn’t want to complicate matters.

  She thought for a time and then said, ‘That’s about it really.’

  They reached the ladder and put on the paper suits, boots, gloves and masks.

  A uniformed officer passed Kline the safety harness.

  Quigg reached out his hands to help her put the harness on, but she slapped them away, and gave him a steely look. Her lip contorted into a snarl like an animal ready to attack. ‘I don’t need your help.’

  He wondered what had happened to make her hate men so much. ‘Have you been down there yet?’

  ‘The Chief told me to wait up here for you.’

  ‘You can follow orders then?’

  She ignored him, and made her way down the ladder.

  The harness came back up empty. Quigg slipped it on, and followed her down into the cavern.

  ‘What cases have you worked on?’

  ‘None yet, nobody wants me on their team.’

  ‘You’re a lesbian?’

  ‘No, I’m not. Do you always ask your partners embarrassing questions?’

  ‘Do you want to be my partner?’

  ‘Have I got a choice?’

  ‘Of course, you could go back to pounding the beat.’

  ‘I don’t think "want" is the right word, but I’ll try it and see how it goes.’

  ‘The same goes for me. I’m your last chance, Kline.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean I have to put up with any shit. If you make a move on me I’ll slice off your testicles and feed them to the station cat.’

  ‘You really want this partnership to work then?’

  ‘I’m just saying. I’d hate you to get the wrong idea.’

  ‘Why do you hate men so much?’

  ‘Have I asked you about your private life?’

  He realised that Kline would be a hard nut to crack. She obviously had deep-rooted issues, but she seemed to be a straight talker.

  ‘Have you been briefed on what’s down here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Perkins?’ he yelled.

  ‘He’s not here, Sir,’ the short and dumpy Janet Shepherd said, waddling over to meet them. ‘You’ve got me instead.’

  ‘Not here! You’ll be telling me next he’s gone home to bed.’

  ‘Yes, he told me you’d wail like a banshee.’

  ‘Wail! Banshee! Now listen here, Janet...’

  ‘Are you going to stand there flexing your rank in front of your new partner, or do you want to know what we’ve found?’

  ‘Flexing my rank! Perkins never speaks to me like that.’

  ‘Maybe he should.’

  Quigg grunted. ‘Since when do forensics ever find anything anyway?’

  Janet turned to go. ‘I’ll leave you to get on with it then.’

  ‘What would you do under these trying circumstances, Kline?’

  ‘I’d probably shut up, and listen to what Janet has to say.’

  ‘You’re meant to watch my back, not stab me in it.’

  Janet stared at him.

  He pressed his index finger and thumb together and drew it across his lips as if he were closing a zip.

  ‘Good. We’ve photographed, catalogued, and bagged 837 skulls up to now. I estimate there are a further 250 still to collect, which gives us a rough total of 1,087.’

  ‘Does that include the seven Doc Inglehart has taken?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So, excuse my
ignorance, but what do you plan to do with them once you get them back to the lab?’

  ‘You can imagine that identifying the owners of these skulls is not a short-term project, and will probably not be done by us. The more recent skulls that Doc Inglehart took away will form the basis of the analysis. She will carry out dental, x-ray, and DNA analysis. What she finds might give us clues about the other skulls. If not, whoever takes on the project will conduct further analysis including cranial analysis, CT scan analysis, radiocarbon C-14 dating, microscopic analysis, scanning electron microscopy, bone composition analysis, statistical analysis, inorganic chemistry analysis, among a number of other tests.’

  ‘I wish I hadn’t asked now. What about facial reconstruction?’

  ‘That’s also a possibility, but now we’re getting into the realms of mega-bucks, and will require authorisation. Each reconstruction would cost in the region of five thousand pounds. So, just for the recent ones it would cost thirty-five thousand pounds, and for all of them you’re talking six million.’

  ‘Who should I make the cheque payable to?’

  ‘Janet Shepherd, I’ll make sure it gets to the right people.’

  ‘And no doubt they’ll be located by a pool in the Bahamas.’

  ‘Yes, I’d like to retire somewhere hot.’

  Kline sighed. ‘Are you two old people going to reminisce all morning?’

  ‘Old people! The young have no respect for their elders anymore, Janet.’

  ‘I’ll have you know I’m only twenty-one,’ Janet said.

  ‘Yeah, and the rest,’ Kline said.

  ‘I think I prefer Walsh, Inspector. How is she?’

  ‘Don’t even get me thinking about the phone call I had with a nurse at the hospital this morning, bloody jobsworth. Apparently, she’s as well as can be expected under the circumstances – whatever that means.’

  Janet laughed. ‘You have to be a relative.’

  ‘You’ve heard that story, as well?’

  ‘Should I continue?’

  ‘Yes please,’ Kline said.

  ‘We’ve discovered thirty-eight instruments of torture so far, but we know there are another eleven hiding somewhere. This place is like a museum. As far as we can tell, there’s one of every torture device ever invented down here. It looks like they’ve all been used many times, and none of them appear to have ever been cleaned.’

  ‘Hell on earth,’ Kline said.

  Janet nodded. ‘A good analogy, Detective.’

  Kline brushed a stray hair from her face. ‘Are the skulls male and female?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Children?’

  ‘No, not that we’ve found.’

  ‘Anything else?’ Quigg asked.

  ‘In one of the caverns, we’ve found a collection of journals.’

  Wide-eyed Quigg stared at her. ‘And you didn’t think to mention this earlier?’

  ‘There are forty-nine journals, one for each method of torture. We’ve briefly scanned them. They have no names and addresses in. The writing is in English, and each torture is comprehensively documented. It’s as if someone has been conducting research on the physical and psychological effects of torture.’

  Quigg shook his head in disbelief. ‘Each entry in a journal usually starts with a date, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, there are dates. We haven’t had time to analyse them yet, but the earliest date is 18th February 1891, and the most recent date was two days ago.’

  ‘What about the time between dates?’ Kline asked.

  ‘There are people working on the journal back at the station,’ Janet said. ‘We’ll have something later today, or maybe first thing in the morning.’

  ‘It’s a stupid question,’ Quigg said, ‘but is the handwriting the same for all the entries?’

  Kline glanced at him. ‘He’d be a hundred and twenty-one now, and that’s if he started torturing as soon as he was born.’

  ‘All right, I said it was a stupid question.’

  ‘The answer is obviously no, they’re not the same, but we haven’t worked out yet how many people have made entries.’

  ‘Handwriting analysis?’ Kline asked.

  ‘Maybe afterwards.’

  ‘Christ,’ Quigg said. ‘This is huge. I hope your people have been told not to talk to the press?’

  ‘You detectives think everyone is guilty until proven innocent,’ Janet said. ‘My people – as you so quaintly put it – know all too well what would happen to them if they spoke to the press. In fact, in every case involving leaks to the press, the guilty party has been a detective.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes then.’

  Janet began to walk away, and said over her shoulder, ‘We’ve found something else as well. Follow me.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘A hole.’

  ‘Very illuminating.’

  She led them to the central hub. ‘What we’ve done is numbered all the caverns, starting with the one the two people fell into. Then the numbers go clockwise. This central cavern is zero, and the one containing the exit tunnel is seven. We’ve put chalk marks on the walls, so that people won’t get lost.’

  Quigg said, ‘Have they cleared the rubble from the exit tunnel yet?’

  ‘Probably another hour.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Getting back to the hole, it’s in cavern number nine.’

  They followed Janet into the ninth cavern. More lights had been brought down, and they could see everything clearly now.

  ‘Over here.’ She led them to the back of the cavern. There was a fold in the rock, and in the centre – a hole – about two feet in diameter with blood, skin, viscera, and brain matter.’

  ‘It stinks,’ Kline said putting a hand up to her mouth and nose, and taking a step back.

  Janet bent down and turned her head to one side. ‘Yes, but listen.’

  They both did as she asked.

  ‘Is that water?’ Quigg said.

  ‘Yes. That’s where the bodies, and the unwanted flesh and brains, have been disposed of.’

  ‘Someone’s got to go down there, haven’t they?’ Kline said.

  Janet nodded. ‘Yes, but who is the big question?’

  ‘It won’t be me.’

  Quigg laughed. ‘You and I will be the last two on the list, Kline. Whoever goes down there will have to be a specialist in potholing, and underwater exploration or something like that. Also, don’t forget, if what Janet says is true, there could be over a thousand decapitated decomposing bodies down there, so they’ll need to have a pretty strong stomach.’

  ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about,’ Kline said.

  Chapter Six

  Janet had nothing else for them. They moved into cavern number seven where a team of ten was still moving rubble.

  Quigg had to raise his voice to be heard. ‘Who’s in charge?’

  A man – with no clothes on the top, and the arms of his coveralls tied around his waist stood up rubbing his back. He was dripping in sweat and streaked in dust.

  ‘No one’s really in charge, we’re just getting on with it.’

  ‘Name?’

  ‘Constable Mark Houston, Sir.’

  ‘Well, it looks as though everyone is doing a good job, Houston. Is that a breeze I feel?’

  ‘Yes, we’re through, but we need to widen it and make it safe. I’d say another twenty minutes to half an hour.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll move out of your way, but DC Kline could help if you need another pair of hands?’

  Smiling, Houston looked Kline up and down and then said, ‘I think we can manage, Sir.’

  They moved back out of the tunnel and found a rock to sit on.

  ‘Did you see that?’ Kline said. ‘Chauvinist pig didn’t think I could pull my weight because I’m a female. I should go back and kill him.’

  ‘Or, he could have seen that you weren’t dressed for the task, and that after rock clearing you would have looked a bloody mess – as he did – which would ha
ve prevented you from coming with me to lunch, and then the mortuary.’

  ‘Then why did you suggest I could help?’

  ‘It was a joke, Kline. I joke a lot. It helps relieve the stress. The only person who didn’t see my suggestion as a joke, was you. Have you got no sense of humour?’

  ‘No, life sucks.’

  ‘I see. Is there anything in your life that doesn’t suck?’

  ‘Mind your own business.’

  ‘When you get home after a hard day’s work, what do you enjoy doing?’

  She stood up and began pacing around the cavern. ‘It stinks in here.’

  He didn’t say anything.

  ‘I’m not a suspect, you know. You’re questioning me like a suspect.’

  ‘No, I’m simply being friendly, trying to find out a bit more about the person I’m working with, but you’ve erected the barricades and are preparing to pour boiling oil over me if I get too close.’

  ‘Well, you’d better not get too close, had you?’

  ‘That was only an initial sortie to see the lay of the land. I have lots of different strategies and tactics I use to make people smile.’

  ‘None of your tricks will work on me.’

  ‘You’ll be glad to know that I don’t give up that easily, that’s what makes me a good detective.’

  A grimy Constable Houston appeared. ‘We’re through, Sir.’

  ‘Excellent. Tell everyone thanks, and they can take the rest of the day off.’

  ‘Are you sure, Sir?’

  ‘I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.’

  ‘Have a good day, Sir.’

  ‘And you, Houston. Come on Kline, let’s go and see what we’ve got up there.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Houston said to Kline. ‘Can I have a word?’

  Quigg wandered back up the corridor. He guessed what Houston was about, and smiled. Some people might find Kline attractive, but he didn’t – thought she was too thin for his tastes. He liked some buxomness, a bit of meat on the bone – to coin a phrase. All this talk of a size zero was stuff and nonsense. Evolution was moving backwards, not forwards.

  He picked up two torches the rubble movers had left on a ledge, and passed one to Kline when she joined him.

  ‘I suppose you want me to go first?’ she said as she moved to go past him.