The Dead Lie Down (Adam Lennox Thrillers: Book One)

by G I Tulloch

  "Mr Lennox."

  Adam tried to control his voice before replying tersely. "What do you want?"

  "I want the package Mr Lennox. You give me the package and I'll give you your Miss Trent."

  For some reason the phrase 'your Miss Trent' seemed to echo around his brain. He didn't reply immediately. After a pause.

  "I haven't got the package yet. I don't know where it is."

  Reilly's voice seemed to change a gear. "Well I suggest you look harder Lennox, because my information is that it was delivered to your office this morning. Bring it to the ruined chapel at Dunwich, I know you know it well. I won't insult you by telling you to come alone."

  "I haven't been to my office this morning. I've just left Brad Wilding, or should I say Greg Lake, and he's singing his heart out. You really shouldn't have left him alive you know. Big mistake, he's likely to turn you in."

  "He can wait, we'll deal with him later."

  Adam tried to sound matter of fact. "That may be difficult because he's already in police custody."

  There was a silence then, the sound of waves in the background Adam's only clue that Reilly hadn't hung up.

  "You've made a mistake Lennox, a very big mistake. You're playing games with me. I don't play games. If you don't want your Miss Trent back as damaged goods, I would get a move on. Every fifteen minutes you're late I'll remove a piece of her anatomy, and when I've finished with her I'll give you the recording."

  "I don't play games either," retorted Adam. "I want to speak to Bel. I want to know she's still all right or I'm not making any deal."

  "Well make the most of it just in case it's the last time," replied Reilly.

  There was a moment's silence during which Adam could have sworn he heard Bel's protesting voice. Suddenly, without warning, a blood-curdling scream of agony erupted from the phone and seared through Adam's head.

  The scream cut off abruptly, the phone went dead and in the silence Adam went through agony.

  Chapter 41

  Her body arched into the air as far as the ropes would allow, as her body reacted to the agony erupting from her abdomen. She gasped for breath, constricted by her clothes and her prostrate position. Her eyes stared into the distance, unfocussed, trying to deal with the torment of pain. Eventually her body slumped back onto the girder. Blood started to seep from the lacerations on her wrists caused by her struggle to get free.

  Reilly watched on in almost academic-like detachment as if mentally writing laboratory notes for future reference. His punch had come suddenly and unexpectedly to her prone, unprotected abdomen with enough force to rupture organs. Once she had relaxed he reached over and re-bound the gag in her mouth.

  "Very satisfactory reaction indeed, very satisfactory. I couldn't have asked for anything better."

  He reached for her face and gently stroked her face and throat, now streaked with sweat, tears and dirt.

  "You have a remarkable complexion my dear," he said contemplatively, his voice creating more fear in Bel than his physical assault. "So different to my own." He regarded his scarred and gnarled hands and held them up for Bel to see.

  "It's so unfair don't you think. Maybe we should see if we can even things up, redress the balance perhaps. Let's find a way to pass the time waiting for Mr Lennox shall we? It would be a shame to waste an opportunity to experiment on such a beautiful body now."

  He lifted the knife in his hand, gazing at it briefly and almost fondly. His voice took on a harsher tone. "Because when we've finished with your friend Lennox he'll have no use for you anyway."

  Without warning he once again rammed his fist deep into Bel's stomach and her body repeated its previous reaction but this time only a muted howl escaped from the gag filling her mouth.

  He waited until her convulsions had once again subsided and with deliberate slow precision, as a heart surgeon about to make the first incision in a transplant operation, began to cut the buttons securing the jacket across her chest, revealing her once-white shirt now taut across her breasts. Despite the cold air, sweat broke out on Reilly's forehead, and he licked his thin lips as he raised the knife, ready to cut clothes and skin alike.

  Bel closed her eyes and in a moment of ridiculous clarity wondered whether her fear was of death or the suffering contained in the process of dying.

  Gerry feared for his life, not necessarily at the hands of their adversaries but certainly from Adam's driving as Adam completed the drive to Dunwich like a man possessed. The Landrover engine seemed to scream for mercy but Adam was giving no quarter and by some quirk of British Leyland engineering it didn't fall to bits. There are a significant number of speed restrictions and roundabouts between Ipswich and Dunwich but Adam ignored both with equal contempt on this occasion, relying instead on the time of night and light traffic to keep them free of incident, or arrest for that matter. Having established a plan in his mind, close to Dunwich village he left the road and took off across heathland towards the coast, using farm tracks etched into his mind from long walks in the area in the past. After a few miles the heath gave way to birch woodland and he dropped his speed marginally. To Gerry's dismay he also switched off the headlamps, leaving Gerry with the distinct impression that he was travelling a cross between a 'big-dipper' at night, and a ghost train. He hung on to anything solid that came within his grasp. Occasionally the moon came out from behind a cloud, illuminating their path. Gerry was unsure which he preferred.

  Eventually Adam was forced to slow to a crawl, partly to reduce engine noise and partly because the track through the trees was becoming increasingly rutted with larger and larger roots. Despite the recent dry weather the track was still waterlogged in places where the ground wasn't porous, and water poured through the gaps in the Landrover's bodywork as they forded these mini-lakes, causing Gerry to lift his feet off the floor in an effort to remain dry.

  At last they left the birch forest as they approached the marsh, whilst the track itself continued through shoulder-high bracken. The ground became softer and less predictable and Adam had to pick his way carefully, aware that before long the engine noise would be carrying out over the open ground and giving them away. As Adam was debating whether it was time to abandon the Landrover it mounted a bank, became stranded without traction and the decision was made for him.

  Adam grabbed gun and torch from the rear seat and jumped down onto the bracken surrounding the Landrover. Stuffing both into his belt, he stopped and surveyed the ground around him, refreshing his memory with the relative positions of various landmarks, and the general lie of the land. He could hear running through his mind the words of their instructor during local training in the reed-beds of northern Kuwait prior to the Iraq invasion. He'd never anticipated that they might be of use in the Suffolk marshes. Something in him sparked to life, adrenaline seeping into his body. He realised that Gerry had joined him.

  "So who were Thunderbirds?" demanded Gerry sotto-voice.

  Adam did a mental double take. "Sorry?"

  "Focus," said Gerry. "Who were Thunderbirds?"

  Adam thought he had lost the plot entirely but briefly saw a glimmer of light. "What, the five Tracy sons?"

  "That'll do to start."

  Adam used his fingers, an old habit, dies hard. "Virgil, Scott, Gordon, John, Alan."

  "Good. And their old man?"

  Adam had to think. "Jeff." He paused briefly. "Who was Tintin's father?"

  Gerry smiled. "You're talking to the master here. Kyrano. What was Parker's previous occupation before working for Lady Penelope?"

  "Safecracker." Adam replied without hesitation. "Who was International Rescue's main adversary?"

  "The Hood." declared Gerry triumphantly. "So, now you're focussed, let's go and kick some ass."

  The going started relatively easily, the soft bracken interspersed with the gorse that threatened to scratch an unwary hand. Adam's general knowledge of the marshes layout allowed them to avoid most of the boggy areas and make relatively good time.

>   Now that Adam was focussed on the job in hand, barring the odd flashback to Thunderbirds, he found himself questioning the real objective and motivation. He had started out this whole business determined to find out who had killed Fran and why, but now he found himself concerned less and less with this question and more and more concerned over Bel. This was entirely natural given the circumstances, yet he realised that his whole attitude and relationship with Bel had changed, regardless of their common goal in regard to Fran's death. He recalled the shared pleasure in the flat, the warmth and smell of her body, the sight of her showering, and that smile.

  A cold feeling in one leg told him he had not been concentrating on where he was going. They had strayed into a watery, mud-covered area, where grazing animals had gathered and moved as one. A curse from behind him told him that Gerry didn't appreciate it either. They stopped to take stock. They were dropping into a shallow valley from where the ground rose again on the other side, giving way to a grassy rise. Out in the open on top of the rise, showing clear in the moonlight were the ruined walls of the old chapel silhouetted against the star-studded sky. Adam wished that he had paid more detailed attention to the layout of the chapel ruins on his previous visits. His memory was only general, not detailed, and might be the difference between success and failure. He could recall a grass floor, internal walls that had all but disappeared, scattered boulders randomly perched on the grass like a giant Boule set.

  They picked their way carefully down into the bottom of the valley and were forced to ford the ankle deep water of the river, moving quickly into the bracken on the far bank. Further cursing from Gerry was cut off by the sound of Adam's mobile breaking into the silence. Adam hit the answer button to ensure the ringing stopped and only then looked at the display to register the caller ID.

  His voice was a barely audible whisper when it came.

  "Ford, what is it?"

  Initially he thought the call had dropped out as there was no reply and was about to hit call cancel when some garbled and broken words came over the ether.

  "...Fran.....shoplifter......Helen.... died. Suspicious circumst...."

  Infuriatingly the call was lost, but within a few agonising seconds Ford tried to reconnect.

  "Yes?" Adam hissed, not wanting to waste time. Again Ford's distorted voice could be heard uttering occasional garbled words.

  "......death in custody.....vendetta...."

  Adam's impatience broke through. "How does it relate to this?"

  For seconds there was no intelligible response, and when it finally came it consisted of two decipherable words.

  "..Bel...Danger" and then the call dropped out again.

  Adam tried to call out but his limited service wouldn't even make a connection.

  Adam, back in Commander mode, took two, perhaps three seconds decide that the call had changed nothing, and put the phone away after switching it to vibrate.

  They moved to the edge of the bracken where the grass took over and the cover ran out. The moon still gave reasonable illumination but a quick check gave hope that the broken cloud would give some cover soon. Adam did not relish being silhouetted against the moon.

  He turned to Gerry who appeared to be shivering beside him.

  "Are you okay?"

  "Hell yes," came his response, "my training as a newspaper editor prepared me well for this very eventuality." The sarcasm, far from being veiled, was brightly lit with all the candlepower of a major rock concert.

  Adam smiled. "I need you to move around the edge of this cover. You'll eventually come to trees, and forty feet into the trees you'll find a track. If I'm not back in twenty minutes then high-tail it down that track until you hit habitation and raise the alarm."

  "And you'll be where?" asked Gerry.

  Adam avoided the question. "You're a good friend Gerry."

  Gerry shammed affront. "I'm a great friend, what's all this 'good' shit."

  Adam smiled despite himself. "Ted Danson, 'Three Men and a Baby', right?"

  "Close. 'Three Men and a Little Lady', but in the circumstances I'll give it to you," conceded Gerry, and disappeared into the gloom.

  Chapter 42

  Adam surveyed the ground between himself and the outer walls of the chapel and decided to wait for cloud cover. As he recalled it, the chapel had originally been a fairly simple square structure with three or four small rooms and a larger sanctuary. It was originally meant for seclusion rather than worship. Little remained of most of the inner walls. The outer walls, of undressed stone , very little of the mortar remaining, stood some twenty feet high. He desperately tried to remember if there was any way of climbing the walls and failed to convince himself either way. The corners of the main walls had crumbled away leaving four stretches of wall in a square. There was deep shadow once below the walls but getting there was the issue.

  He checked the progress of the cloud cover, which seemed to have thickened and consolidated. In the distance a rumble of thunder forecast the promise of rain. That could even up a lot of disadvantages, and Adam was well aware of it, but his twenty minutes was running down.

  He moved slowly to his right, keeping in semi-cover and before he had gone far the aroma of garlic reached his nostrils. Gerry detested garlic so either this was an innocent out for a late night stroll, or one of the opposition.

  The automatic rifle slung over the shoulder suggested the latter. Adam pulled the knife from his belt sheath and moved out over the soft ground. As he approached he recognised the bullet head and broken nose of Holt. As soon as he was in range he lunged forward, swinging the knife. He pulled him backwards off balance and brought an arm around the throat forcing the head back and letting him feel the edge of the knife blade.

  "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way," hissed Adam.

  His opponent voted with his feet, and with surprising force pushed Adam backwards, swivelling round to face him in one movement. The lunge was his undoing. Adam brought the knife down and as his opponent moved in towards him the knife blade slipped between the appropriate ribs.

  The body dropped satisfyingly quietly to the ground. Adam wiped the knife and put it away.

  Fifteen minutes in, and his cloud cover arrived. Anticipating the darkest point he weaved his way across the open ground, changing shape to avoid foreign eyes pattern detection. Well that's what someone had told him once anyway. Working his way around the base of the walls, searching for a way through that would lend him advantage he detected light within the ruins somewhere. He encountered no one on his recce which struck him as odd. Sitting in a lighted enclosed area whilst an adversary can attack from the shadows were never good tactics, but Reilly had never struck Adam as a dumb tactician, still he could be wrong and there was always a first time for everything.

  He decided on his preferred way in when a voice stopped him in his tracks. Reilly the tactician.

  "Lennox." he called. "I think you should come in and join us, me and your friend Gerry here."

  Clever ruse or trump card? Adam risked a sneak view around the corner of a wall and dismay filled him like a cold shower in the Arctic. In the largest room, lit by two electric lanterns, stood Reilly, gun in hand. At his feet knelt the aforementioned Gerry, hands tied behind his back, secured by the modern-day handcuffs, tie-wraps. Behind them stood a big man, six-six, two hundred and fifty pounds at least, and he too was armed. His face seemed vaguely familiar to Adam but he couldn't place where from.

  In his current position Gerry was between himself and Reilly, giving Reilly the advantage of being able to cover them both. Adam moved slightly away from the wall and moved slowly around the outside to the opposite corner. Reilly grew impatient.

  "I know you're there Lennox. Come in where I can see you. Keep the gun above your head and then toss it away from you. Do what I say or he dies."

  Adam weighed up the odds of either of them surviving this, and the result wasn't worth betting on even for an addicted gambler.

  "Kill him, and there'
s no way you're getting the package," he yelled.

  Reilly assimilated the change of position and moved appropriately.

  "You're forgetting I've also got your girlfriend," responded Reilly.

  The last word grated coming from his mouth. Adam moved yet again to a third corner, aiming to disconcert those inside.

  "I think you're bluffing. I think you've killed her already. Where is she? I want to see her."

  Reilly swivelled yet again and started to show some exasperation.

  "I'm afraid I didn't bring her to this party, but never fear, she's close by."

  This time Adam moved all the way around to the corner behind Reilly. He assessed Gerry's chances if Adam blew Reilly's head off from where he was. Yet again the odds weren't good enough for his liking.

  "That's strange because I didn't bring the package with me either, so where does that leave us?"

  Reilly spun round to assimilate the new position.

  "Don't play games with me Lennox. I don't play games."

  "Neither does your friend with the rifle that I met on my way in," declared Adam as he continued his move around the outside of the walls.

  There was the crack of a shot from within the room.

  Adam stepped into the room, gun cradled in both hands, pointing at Reilly's head.

  Gerry was still in one piece, physically at least.

  "That was below the belt, Reilly," accused Adam.

  On his first syllable both Reilly and his henchman were quick on their toes. The former hiding behind Gerry whilst the latter brought his high calibre pistol to bear on Adam.

  There was a moment's silence which Reilly was the first to break.

  "So where is the package?"

  No one moved a muscle although Gerry appeared, to the keen eye, to be shaking.

  "It's in a safe in London, for which I alone have the combination." Nice touch thought Adam, good words, very Sherlock Holmes. Perhaps his nerves weren't holding up as well as he thought.