‘Will co,’ said Ken with quiet dignity and without wasting time asking questions.
With my colleague Joe, I scrambled up the steep side of the dale, using shrubs and bracken to haul my way to the top and then, panting with the exertion, I found myself level with the walkway which ran across the top of the dam. Followed closely by the puffing Joe, I clambered over the new metal railings and ran back towards the packhorse bridge. Although water was roaring nearby, I put my finger to my lips to indicate silence from Joe as we padded beneath the old bridge. Standing beneath its curved arch, we both waited for a few moments to regain our breath and then, again stressing the need for silence, I walked to the railings standing as close as I could to the support of the packhorse bridge, and peered over. I was looking into a huge hollow in the moors, with a stream rippling through from beneath the base of the dam. The whole area was bathed in a sea of bright light but blackened in patches by intense darkness.
From this vantage point, I was looking down the steep slope comprised of those mighty blocks of granite. Joe joined me. Without speaking, I indicated the patch of darkness directly below the end of the old bridge; from here, it was easy to see that it was a large hollow, a place destined to be the final resting place of Warwick Humbert Ravenswood but neither of us could say whether or not the hole contained anyone or anything. The angle prevented us from seeing inside. Looking from here, it would be just possible for a man to climb over the iron rails, cling to them as he found a foothold and then move to his right and slip into the cavity. Or he might have used a rope looped over the rails and around his own waist so that he could lower himself down the stonework, quite feasible for a rock-climber. But if a rope had been used, it had gone — which meant it would be most difficult if not impossible to return via the same route. And that thought sent a shiver down my spine. Or, of course, he was not there at all!
Unable to surreptitiously determine whether or not the cavity was occupied, we returned to the end of the dam to await the others. Here, thanks to the roar of the sluice, we could talk without worrying about the possible occupant of the cavity overhearing us and soon Ken arrived with a rope, closely followed by Deirdre. I explained the situation and asked them to be patient with us, and also to be as silent as possible. I did suggest to Ken and Deirdre that, if we located Gordon, he must not see them together. Then Sergeant Blaketon and some of the others arrived, having learned of this development, and I briefed them.
‘So, Rhea, what are your plans?’ Sergeant Blaketon asked.
‘I’ll call to him from the walkway and if there’s no response, I’ll lower myself on this rope and have a look into the cavity.’
‘There’s no other way of examining it, is there?’ Blaketon addressed Ken who shook his head.
‘Sorry, Sergeant, not at such short notice. We could build something especially for this task from ground level, using scaffolding, but that’ll take ages. We’ve got that lined up for Warwick’s funeral — I don’t think the vicar’s too happy about having to perform on a platform suspended in mid-air but we’ve had no complaints from Warwick.’
And so the decision was made. It was agreed that I should make the attempt because of my relationship with Gordon and Sergeant Blaketon thought I’d cope because I’d been on an Outward Bound course. With a round turn and two half hitches, I lashed one end of the rope to the railings, locating it as close as possible to the support of the packhorse bridge, and tied the other around my waist in a bowline. The bowline is a knot which does not slip — so I would not slice my waist in half with my own weight! That completed, I would lower myself down the face of the dam until I could swing myself to the right and either gain access to the cavity or inspect it with a torch. But first, I had to call to see if Gordon was there.
From the railings, therefore, I called his name while the others, including Deirdre remained silent in the background. I called several times but there was no response.
‘It looks as if you’ll have to use your rock-climbing skills, Rhea,’ whispered Blaketon, who added, ‘Good luck — and watch out for bombs! Remember we don’t want any heroics . . .’
I didn’t tell him I had no rock-climbing skills although I’d done a little abseiling but I saw no danger in what I was about to do. The base of the cavity was but a few feet below the walkway and I would be secured by the rope. Taking a deep breath, therefore, I climbed over the rails with my back to the dale beyond, took a secure grip of my rope and walked backwards down the slope of the heavy rocks. Within a few strides, the gaping hole of Warwick’s grave-to-be was on my right. Holding the rope tightly, I bent my knees and then sprang out from the face of the dam, swinging to the right as I did so. With startling suddenness, I found my feet landing just inside the cavity, so I bent my knees and was thus partially inside it. And there was Gordon.
Even in the dim reflected light, I could see him — and my arrival startled him.
‘God!’ he gasped.
‘Gordon, it’s me, Nick Rhea,’ I spoke quickly.
‘Get away, leave me . . .’ His voice was faint and hoarse. ‘I want to die . . .’
Hauling the torch from my pocket and hanging there with one hand on the rope and my feet on the edge of the cavity, I turned it upon Gordon. He was curled in the foetal position with his arms around a bundle of explosives, and he was weeping softly. I could see the fuse snaking about him . . . he had all the appearances of a human bomb.
I had no idea whether his body-bomb was alive or not, but guessed he was able to blow himself to smithereens. And me, if I wasn’t careful.
‘You’d better get away from here, Nick, I’m going to blow myself up, and this dam and the old bridge and everything else that’s ruined my life . . . I was so happy, so absolutely happy and then all this happened . . .’
‘No, Gordon, no. Think of us, everyone, your friends . . .’
‘And Deirdre? Look what that woman’s done to me . . .’
‘She loves you, Gordon,’ I had to say. ‘She does . . . I know she does.’
‘How can she? How can she, Nick? If she did, she wouldn’t have done what she did,’ he sniffed.
‘And do you love her?’
‘Yes, I do, I do, I do, and I can’t live without her.’
‘So how can you do this to her? How can you kill yourself in this way, a dreadful way that she’ll have to live with for the rest of her life? She’s ended her affair, Gordon, I know that. I’m not lying, I wouldn’t lie to you! If you love her, you will end this right now. If you do not love her, then by all means go ahead. But she does love you and she loves you dearly . . . she’s made mistakes; of course, she has, and she knows that. You’ve made mistakes; this is a mistake but in spite of that, it’s you she loves . . .’
‘You said you’re sure she’s given him up?’ He wiped his eyes with a free hand.
‘Yes, I am. I’d swear on the Bible, Gordon, it’s all over.’
‘Then tell her to come and say so!’ The tears began to flow again. ‘You tell her that . . . tell her to come down here, on that rope, and say so . . .’
‘She’s right above you now, Gordon, waiting,’ I said.
‘Here? She knows I’m here, like this?’
‘She does.’
‘Oh my God. How dreadful . . . what a dreadful thing to do.’ The fact she was so close to him seemed to snap him out of his black mood. ‘Nick, help me, for God’s sake help me . . .’
And suddenly he released the explosives.
‘It’s not wired up,’ he whispered, as he tried to control the sobs which racked his body. ‘I daren’t do it . . . I daren’t . . . I couldn’t.’ With a quick movement of his arms, he flung the rolls of quarry explosive out of the cavity. They bounced down the slope of the dam as I closed my eyes . . . but they did not explode. Those explosives could withstand such shocks; to be exploded, they had to be detonated.
‘Deirdre?’ I shouted. ‘Come to the rails, will you? Gordon wants you to help him . . .’
As her pale, t
ear-stained face appeared at the rails, he looked up at her with his tears blurring the image. ‘Do you really love me?’ he whispered hoarsely.
‘Oh, Gordon, of course I do . . . please come home, now.’
He waited and I wondered if he was going to persist in his demand for her to descend to the cavity, but he seized my hand and said, ‘Thanks, Nick. Help me up, will you?’
With an easy grace he climbed the steep slope of the dam with me puffing behind as I clutched at the rope which was my lifeline. As we climbed, he gazed at Deirdre whose figure was framed in the dark shape of the old packhorse bridge and tears flowed freely from both. I hoped the others had had the wisdom to disappear into the darkness and to leave the stage clear for Gordon and Deirdre. Thankfully, they had done so. Gordon climbed over the rails and literally fell into her arms and I heard her say, ‘Come on, Gordon, take me home.’
As I regained the security of the walkway, I watched them move slowly away, remaining beneath the old packhorse bridge until they were out of sight, and then Sergeant Blaketon and the others emerged from the shadows.
‘He’ll need treatment,’ were Blaketon’s first words.
‘He needs Deirdre,’ was my response.
* * *
Gordon was not convicted, the court recommending treatment for his mental condition and he was soon painting delightfully fresh pictures of the moors and reservoir. Deirdre continued to work but Ken Rigby left once the dam was complete. Warwick Humbert Ravenswood was interred and a plaque marked his final resting place. It was balanced architecturally with a similar one at the other end of the dam which announced it was Ramsdale Bridge Reservoir, along with the dates of construction and the name of the person who performed the opening ceremony, i.e. the Countess of Ramsdale.
Claude’s caravan project never materialized, due to concerns among conservationists that his patch of rare gentiana nivalis might be harmed, but the reservoir is now a popular tourist attraction with water sports and wildlife.
THE END
ALSO BY NICHOLAS RHEA
CONSTABLE NICK MYSTERIES
Book 1: CONSTABLE ON THE HILL
Book 2: CONSTABLE ON THE PROWL
Book 3: CONSTABLE AROUND THE VILLAGE
Book 4: CONSTABLE ACROSS THE MOORS
Book 5: CONSTABLE IN THE DALE
Book 6: CONSTABLE BY THE SEA
Book 7: CONSTABLE ALONG THE LANE
Book 8: CONSTABLE THROUGH THE MEADOW
Book 9: CONSTABLE IN DISGUISE
Book 10: CONSTABLE AMONG THE HEATHER
Book 11: CONSTABLE BY THE STREAM
Book 12: CONSTABLE AROUND THE GREEN
Book 13: CONSTABLE BENEATH THE TREES
Book 14: CONSTABLE IN CONTROL
Book 15: CONSTABLE IN THE SHRUBBERY
Book 16: CONSTABLE VERSUS GREENGRASS
Book 17: CONSTABLE ABOUT THE PARISH
Book 18: CONSTABLE AT THE GATE
Book 19: CONSTABLE AT THE DAM
Book 20: CONSTABLE OVER THE STILE
Book 21: CONSTABLE UNDER THE GOOSEBERRY BUSH
Book 22: CONSTABLE IN THE FARMYARD
Book 23: CONSTABLE AROUND THE HOUSES
Book 24: CONSTABLE ALONG THE HIGHWAY
Book 25: CONSTABLE OVER THE BRIDGE
Book 26: CONSTABLE GOES TO MARKET
Book 27: CONSTABLE ALONG THE RIVERBANK
Book 28: CONSTABLE IN THE WILDERNESS
Book 29: CONSTABLE AROUND THE PARK
Book 30: CONSTABLE ALONG THE TRAIL
Book 31: CONSTABLE IN THE COUNTRY
Book 32: CONSTABLE ON THE COAST
Book 33: CONSTABLE ON VIEW
Book 34: CONSTABLE BEATS THE BOUNDS
Book 35: CONSTABLE AT THE FAIR
Book 36: CONSTABLE OVER THE HILL
Book 37: CONSTABLE ON TRIAL
MORE COMING SOON
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GLOSSARY OF ENGLISH USAGE FOR US READERS
A & E: accident and emergency department in a hospital
Aggro: violent behaviour, aggression
Air raid: an attack in which bombs are dropped from aircraft on ground targets
Allotment: a plot of land rented by an individual for growing fruit, vegetable or flowers
Anorak: nerd (it also means a waterproof jacket)
Artex: textured plaster finish for walls and ceilings
A level: exams taken between 16 and 18
Auld Reekie: Edinburgh
Au pair: live-in childcare helper. Often a young woman.
Barm: bread roll
Barney: argument
Beaker: glass or cup for holding liquids
Beemer: BMW car or motorcycle
CONSTABLE AT THE DAM a perfect feel-good read from one of Britain’s best-loved authors (Constable Nick Mystery Book 19) Page 21