The Chosen Ones

by Howard Linskey

  ‘You could if …’ Penny blurted out the words then stopped mid-sentence when they both turned and looked at her. ‘Never mind.’

  ‘No, come on,’ Tom urged her. ‘What were you going to say?’

  Helen braced herself for Penny’s theory. ‘Well … I was going to say … you could if it was a bunker.’

  ‘A bunker?’ repeated Helen. ‘You mean, like a nuclear one?’

  ‘Or an old one from the Second World War,’ said Penny.

  ‘Where did you get that idea from?’ asked Tom.

  ‘It was just a thought.’ She flushed. ‘A stupid one, probably.’

  ‘No,’ Helen said firmly, ‘it’s a good one.’

  ‘It is,’ agreed Tom, ‘but what made you think of it?’

  ‘My ex,’ she began, ‘the first guy I went out with when I came to uni; he used to explore them.’

  ‘Really?’ asked Tom, and Penny misunderstood his tone.

  ‘Everyone has a past, right?’ she said, as if she had just made him jealous.

  He smiled at her. ‘I just meant it’s a very unusual hobby.’

  ‘Tunnel rats,’ she said, ‘that’s what they’re called. They go off at weekends and explore bunkers and tunnels on old bases. That sort of thing. He wanted to take me with him.’ She grimaced at the notion. ‘I think that’s one of the reasons why I dumped him.’

  ‘And how did he manage to find these bunkers?’ asked Helen. ‘I don’t suppose they’re on any maps in the local library.’

  ‘They’re not,’ said Penny, ‘but word gets round if someone finds an old abandoned place and people go down and explore them in little groups. He used to say it was safe, but I don’t see how it could have been. They’re all pretty much derelict.’

  ‘How many underground bunkers are there?’ asked Helen.

  ‘My ex said there were at least a thousand in this country.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Tom said. ‘Even if we’re only dealing with this region, that’s way too many and we don’t know where they are either. That’s the problem with secret bunkers – they tend to be secret.’

  ‘And wouldn’t that make them an appealing prospect for a man who wants to take women?’ said Helen. ‘A fall-out shelter is the one underground building you wouldn’t want to be on any map or survey. You would have to keep it secret even from your closest neighbours.’

  ‘In case they all wanted to join you in there?’ said Tom.

  ‘Exactly,’ agreed Helen. ‘There are companies that still build them, even now, with the Cold War long over.’

  ‘There will always be paranoid survivalist types interested in buying stuff like that, in case a nuclear war gets started by accident by some fourteen-year-old computer hacker.’

  ‘And people who think order is going to break down like the idea of a strong room to hide in.’

  ‘Maybe it’s the Zombie Apocalypse they’re scared of,’ said Tom, and Helen frowned at him. ‘What?’ he protested with a shrug. ‘It could happen.’

  ‘The point I’m making is that these companies make secrecy a virtue,’ she said. ‘It’s one of their big selling points.’

  ‘Sparing their customers the anxiety of having to tell their next-door neighbours to sod off and die of radiation poisoning.’

  Helen considered it further, ‘But Sarah was underground for a year and Cora missing for eighteen. Were people really purchasing private fall-out shelters back in the late seventies?’

  ‘Not many, I should imagine,’ admitted Tom, ‘but a lot of places would have been decommissioned when they became obsolete and just left to crumble away. I’ve read about them. Some were little places for observation or communications purposes and others were really big, designed to keep local government going after a nuclear strike. We built them during the Second World War, in case the Germans invaded and we had to fight on. Thankfully, they were never needed.’

  ‘It explains how he could keep people underground for years without anyone knowing,’ said Helen. ‘In fact, it’s starting to look like the only plausible explanation.’

  ‘Well done, you,’ said Tom, and Penny flushed again.

  So, Penny had a theory, thought Helen, and it turned out to be a good one.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  The desk sergeant told Ian Bradshaw that a woman had come forward with some information for him. She’d read all about the case in the newspaper and needed to speak to him urgently, so could he come down? Was this about the body in the woods or the missing women? Both had been written about in the tabloids lately. There was only one way to find out.

  The young woman before him looked tense and worried, so he steered her into a side room and offered her a cup of tea, which she declined. He got the impression she had been fretting about coming to see him. When she didn’t immediately explain her presence he opted to make the first move. ‘Can I help you?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m Rachel, and I’ve decided to come forward,’ she said, as if it hadn’t been an easy decision. ‘I wasn’t going to. I was just going to move on and try and forget about it, you know.’

  ‘Right,’ he said.

  ‘But then I realized he can’t be allowed to get away with it, and not just because it could happen to another woman, though that’s what I’m worried about. It’s the arrogance, you see, and the fact that he doesn’t seem to have learned anything from it. He still thinks he’s important.’

  ‘I see,’ said Bradshaw, trying to contain his excitement. Was this another woman who had escaped the clutches of the rogue cab-driver? Would she be able to identify the man who had attacked her?

  ‘When I saw it in the paper,’ she continued, ‘I just had to come in and talk to someone. He sounded so entitled. I know he’ll do it again. I just know it.’

  ‘Who is he?’ Bradshaw asked, leaning forward in his chair.

  ‘Sorry.’ She shook her head as if to clear it. ‘I’m sorry, it’s hard for me to … I’m talking about Charlie Hamilton, the man who wants to sue you. He assaulted me.’

  Bradshaw was momentarily stunned.

  ‘A few months back I stayed over at his house. I can give you the exact date. I fell asleep next to him and I woke up because he was touching me. I didn’t consent to it,’ she said, then looked forcefully into Bradshaw’s eyes. ‘I never consented to it. He will say that I did, but he’s lying. You have to believe me, even though I know he’ll deny every word I say about it.’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Bradshaw, slowly piecing things together. ‘I do believe you, and he can’t deny it.’

  ‘Why not?’ she asked abruptly.

  ‘Because he has already admitted it,’ said Bradshaw. ‘On tape. We just didn’t know who you were,’ he said, then he gave a supportive half-smile. ‘Until now.’

  ‘He’s going to regret going to the newspapers,’ said Kane hours later, once Bradshaw told him about the woman who had come in about Charlie Hamilton. ‘Is there enough to charge him?’

  ‘You may be very surprised to hear that he has copped for it,’ Bradshaw told him.

  ‘Really? I am.’

  ‘Well, we had his partial confession on tape and now we have the victim’s identity and her account of that night, so I suppose he felt he had nowhere else to go. I think he is hoping a judge will reckon it’s all a bit of a drunken misunderstanding, but I doubt that.’

  Kane frowned. ‘You never know with judges. They’re an odd bunch. Either way, whatever the sentence, if he pleads guilty, at least it’s a start.’

  ‘He’s going to,’ said Bradshaw, ‘and we’ve charged him.’

  ‘Suing the force is a non-starter.’ Kane was gleeful.

  ‘He’s dropped that idea,’ Bradshaw confirmed.

  ‘Not that it is my prime concern, obviously,’ said Kane. ‘It’s the victim that counts. Still, I think his disgrace deserves as much attention as his sanctimonious rant about police victimization, don’t you? Give this one to Carney. Might as well make the most of the fact that we have a journalist on the pay roll, and he
’ll be happy because he’ll make a few bob out of it.’

  ‘Let me get this straight, sir, you’re ordering me to leak the details of an ongoing case to a member of the press?’ Bradshaw pretended to be shocked.

  ‘I am,’ smiled Kane, ‘but of course it didn’t come from me or you.’

  ‘He’ll understand that without being told.’

  ‘Bradshaw’ – Kane’s tone was firm – ‘make sure you tell him anyway.’

  When Bradshaw called Tom with the news he found the whole situation amusing, particularly Kane’s assertion that he might need telling that the crucial information about Charlie Hamilton’s arrest didn’t come from his office, but he assured Bradshaw he would tell no one his source. Grateful for the tip-off, he spent some time writing up the story of Charlie Hamilton’s arrest for sexual assault and the withdrawal of his claim against Durham Constabulary, then he faxed the story to one of his contacts at the Daily Mirror. They promised to make it a page lead, which he saw as a form of justice after Hamilton’s widely read criticisms of the local police.

  He’d barely finished when there was a buzz from the gate, and he glanced at the monitor to see Jenna on the CCTV, standing outside his home. He pressed the buzzer to let her in and spent the next half-hour listening as she explained how her blackmailer had made contact with her in person.

  ‘What did this guy look like?’ he asked, and when she described the man in detail he realized that he could be anyone.

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she said.

  ‘I can help you, Jenna, if you really want me to, but it won’t be without risk. You could pay him instead. It’s your choice.’

  ‘But you don’t think I should?’ she probed.

  ‘Pay him once and you’ll be paying him forever.’

  ‘Then what choice do I have,’ she asked, ‘except to trust you?’

  When he was convinced she was certain, Tom said, ‘Okay, then, so this is what we’re going to do.’

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  1980

  Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewellery or fine clothes.

  ‒ Peter 3 3:4

  The first few weeks were a test. If they passed, they could stay and be saved. If they failed, well, it made no difference, because they’d die soon in the outside world even if he let them go, and he could never do that. It gave him some consolation to know that he wasn’t killing them, not really. If anything, it was a mercy, because strangulation was far less painful than being burnt alive or slowly dying of radiation poisoning. He was sparing them that fate at least.

  He tried several young ones at first, all runaways, and this had its advantages. They would climb into his vehicle willingly and trustingly, because his offer of a lift gave them a hope of escape. They wanted to believe everything would be okay, and wanting that made them careless.

  He soon learned that the really young ones were a bad choice and gave up on them. The teenagers were troublesome, like his wife had been, and wouldn’t accept his rules, even when he told them the alternative. Perhaps they didn’t believe he was serious, so they learned the hard way. He buried three of them before he gave up and looked elsewhere. No one even noticed.

  The next time, Samuel went for a modest woman. No revealing clothes or gold chains, no dyed hair or make-up on her face. Not a harlot or a painted woman. Just a red-haired girl in a simple black dress.

  He didn’t spot the tattoo on her wrist until she was already in the crate.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  ‘Thanks, Tom,’ Jenna told him, when they had finally finished going over every option available to her and had settled on a plan of action that was, if not appealing, perhaps the least worst option she could take. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

  ‘No problem,’ he told her. They left his house and went out on to the driveway together. She turned back to face him then.

  ‘You’re an absolute diamond,’ she said, and caught him by surprise by leaning forward and kissing him. It was only brief, but it was another one on the lips, not the cheek, and that meant something, because of their history. Every time she did this it rekindled a spark in him and he reckoned she bloody knew it. Still, he wouldn’t have minded that half as much or even given it any further thought if it wasn’t for the sight that greeted him when they broke from the kiss. With impeccable timing, Penny was standing at the foot of the driveway, staring straight at them. She seemed to be frozen in the act of pressing the buzzer and it was obvious she had seen the kiss.

  ‘Tom?’ She looked hurt and confused.

  ‘Penny!’ he called, far too brightly, and realized too late that his efforts to look innocent had merely made him appear more guilty.

  Jenna immediately understood and gave a little laugh. ‘Whoops.’

  Penny did not look impressed.

  Tom had to go back into the house to release the gate and let Penny in. He returned as quickly as he could, but the two women were already standing next to one another.

  ‘You must be Penny,’ said Jenna, and he could see the confusion in his girlfriend’s eyes. Who is this woman? she must have been thinking, and How come she knows who I am yet I don’t know about her? ‘Don’t mind me,’ said Jenna. ‘I’m far too tactile and Tom and I go way back. We’re very old friends.’

  ‘This is Jenna,’ Tom told Penny, but he couldn’t think of anything else to add at this point that wouldn’t make things worse. His girlfriend had just seen him kiss another woman. In actual fact, she had kissed him, but it probably hadn’t looked all that different from a distance. Now Penny looked as if she wanted to hit Jenna – and stab him.

  ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it,’ said Jenna. ‘Thanks again for your help, Tom, and it’s nice to meet you, Penny.’ She breezed away. Penny didn’t say a word till she was gone.

  ‘What does she mean by very old friends?’

  The conversation started badly for Tom and went rapidly downhill from there.

  ‘Are you cheating on me?’ she demanded.

  ‘God no!’ he protested. ‘How would I find the time?’ This attempt to defuse the situation backfired so badly he was forced to backtrack swiftly then explain how Jenna had called round to see him because she needed his help.

  ‘With what?’

  His first instinct was to tell her to mind her own business. Tom didn’t like to be challenged, bossed or ordered around by anyone, and certainly wasn’t used to relationship rows of this kind, or even relationships at all, if he was honest. ‘I can’t tell you that,’ he said. ‘It’s private.’

  Penny wasn’t having that. ‘How do you know her, then?’

  At that point, Tom decided honesty was the best policy. He could have lied and said they were old friends, colleagues or school mates ‒ anything at all, really, but if he admitted Jenna was an ex-girlfriend, if he was honest about that much, then perhaps she would believe the rest of his explanation.

  After he told her, he wished he hadn’t.

  ‘You mean you used to sleep with her?’

  ‘Well, er, yes, but everybody has a past, right? I didn’t ask you about your ex-boyfriend.’

  ‘He doesn’t come knocking on my door for help then kiss me goodbye afterwards,’ she snapped, and she had a point there, even if he still didn’t believe he had done anything wrong.

  ‘Look, it’s a complicated situation. I’m just helping her with a problem, that’s all. I’m sorry she kissed me, but it’s not as if I kissed her back.’ When she didn’t come up with a counterargument he continued, ‘Now why we don’t calm down and just stop rowing about this? How about I take you for a pizza?’

  He was taken aback when she said, ‘I’m not hungry. Why don’t you ask your old girlfriend instead?’

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  Helen drove out to the local hospital to fulfil an appointment she had been unable to confirm over the phone.

  The gastroenterologist was a very busy man. Helen k
new this because she had been told it repeatedly, at every stage of her pursuit of the doctor and his expert opinion. She had phoned the hospital on several occasions and each time she had listened as she was told just how busy Dr Hemming was and how he was probably in far too much demand to phone the journalist back.

  ‘Did you tell him I am working with the police on an important case?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But he still hasn’t called me back. I wonder why?’

  ‘I told him you were interested in his opinion on a dead person. He said he was rather too busy caring for the living.’

  Helen had to concede that this was a fair point, but she wasn’t going to give up that easily. She drove down to the hospital and found Dr Hemming’s private parking spot, which was helpfully marked with his name. His car was still there. Helen waited. And waited. Then she waited some more.

  She wondered if people ever realized how much of her time was spent waiting for people. There wasn’t a lot of glamour in professions most people considered glamorous. Police, private detectives, investigative journalists ‒ all of them seemed to spend a great deal of their time sitting around waiting for something to happen. She listened to the radio and read the bits of the newspaper she’d had insufficient time for that morning while people started to leave the hospital for the day, until there were only two vehicles remaining in that section of the car park: Dr Hemming’s expensive Mercedes and her own car.

  Finally, a smartly dressed figure emerged. He looked tired and not a little formidable. Helen decided to intercept him before he reached his car.

  ‘Helen Norton,’ she called cheerfully, and shook the man’s hand, as if the doctor had been expecting her all along. ‘Did you get my messages?’

  ‘I did, but ‒’

  ‘You’re a very busy man, I know,’ Helen said, in a tone designed to placate the doctor, ‘which is why I thought it best to drive down here and meet you, so I could perhaps steal just a moment of your time now, then I could finally leave you in peace.’