The Infirmary (DCI Ryan Mysteries prequel)(77)

At the bottom of the ramp, a man dressed in work gear was swaying against the railing, clutching a wound to his head.

“There!” Ryan shouted. “Get a medic out here!”

With a quick glance both ways, he took his chance and sprinted across the road to where the man had now collapsed to the ground.

Phillips wasn’t far behind and produced one of his all-purpose handkerchiefs, which he pressed to the side of the man’s head.

“Which way did he go?” Ryan asked. “Which way? The museum?”

With every passing second, they were losing ground.

“Down there,” the man gasped, feeling sick. “The tunnel. Down there.”

Ryan looked around and saw something he had never noticed before. Cut into the side of the small hill where the museum rested was a circular wooden doorway standing open to reveal a pitch-black tunnel beyond. Yellow cones and red triangular signs had been arranged around it, warning, ‘DANGER—MAINTENANCE WORK IN PROGRESS’.

“Let’s get after him!” Phillips shouted, jogging towards the entrance to the tunnel.

“No,” Ryan replied. “I need you to stay above ground. Find out where this tunnel leads and make sure we’ve got every exit covered. I’m not losing him again. I’ll try to catch up with him and flush him out.”

“Here! Take this with you!” Phillips said, chucking his radio across to Ryan, who caught it one-handed.

Ryan shoved the radio into his back pocket, took a deep breath and stepped inside.





CHAPTER 34


Ryan stepped carefully over the threshold and into the Victoria Tunnel, a subterranean wagonway running beneath the city of Newcastle for nearly four kilometres from the old Spital Tongues Colliery in the west of the city all the way to the River Tyne in the east. It lay sixty-five feet beneath the ground with a series of partially hidden entranceways, such as the one Ryan had just found. Large sections of the tunnel had already been renovated and were open to guided tours for the public; the remaining sections had either been left to dilapidate or were still being reconstructed.

But Ryan knew none of that.

He entered slowly and was grateful to find the first section of tunnel had been illuminated by makeshift lighting left by the unsuspecting workman who was injured outside. Scaffolding had been erected to support the crumbling inner walls and Ryan walked carefully beneath it, wary of the long shadows further ahead and of who might lurk within.

He was right to be wary.

Edwards stood at the far end of the scaffolding, his eyes trained on the entrance until he judged the time was right. When Ryan passed beneath the main scaffolding, he began to kick it away, grunting with the effort until the metal leg collapsed, bringing the rest of the structure down with it.

Ryan turned to run back but it was too late. He heard the creak of metal as it buckled overhead, and a fine sheen of dust rained down from the ceiling.

At the tunnel entrance, Phillips heard the thud of Edwards’ boot against the scaffolding and hurried inside, only to be forced back again as the scaffolding tumbled down in a heap of solid metal.

“Ryan!” He gave an involuntary shout.

Inside, Ryan heard the ceiling splinter and threw himself to safety, looking back to watch the last light of the tunnel entrance disappear, taking his means of escape with it.

Trapped.

He was covered in a billowing cloud of dust which coated his skin and clogged his airway. He crawled away from the fresh pile of rubble, coughing the grit from his lungs until he could breathe freely again.

When the dust settled, only darkness remained.

*

Ryan heard muffled sounds coming from the tunnel entrance and knew it must be Phillips, but couldn’t make out any words. He still had the radio in his pocket but, if he turned it on, it would alert Edwards to his location.

He kept it off and felt his way through the darkness, trailing his fingertips against the damp wall until he came to a fork in the main part of the tunnel. Each direction was pitch-black and completely silent except for the echo of his own breathing and the quiet drip of leaking moisture against the thick stone walls. As he descended deeper into the tunnel, the comforting thrum of civilisation disappeared and, in that moment, Ryan felt completely alone.

But he was not alone.

To his right, he heard something scrape against the edge of the tunnel, sending a faint echo down the length of it.

Ryan searched the darkness, fiddling with his mobile phone to bring up the torch setting and shine a light into the shadows. Its meagre light was swallowed by the all-encompassing darkness so that it barely illuminated more than a couple of feet ahead of him.

His fingers slipped and the torch switched off, plunging the tunnel into total darkness again. Ryan did not immediately switch it back on but held his breath, waiting for another sound. He stood completely still, shivering slightly as his body reacted to a sudden drop in temperature, listening for the sound he knew would come.

There.

It was almost impossible to judge distances, especially as it was unfamiliar territory and Ryan felt a momentary doubt.

He should turn back, wait for them to dig him out.

But as Phillips had known from the off, he would never be able to live with himself if his inaction led to more death, more waste and destruction.

He took a step forward, his feet sounding impossibly loud as they crunched against the floor, and he stopped dead again.