Convicted Innocent(42)

“Sergeant Bartholomew. You’ll keep three men with you and get this door open,” the inspector declared. “This lock is new, the door well-kept, and the bit of floor I can see under the bottom edge is as well-traveled as this corridor’s. Find out where it leads. It’ll give us some idea about the nature of this place, I’m sure. And if you come across anyone – anyone, whether hostile or seemingly friendly – see he returns with us to the station. We’ll sort it out later.”

The sergeant didn’t look happy about letting the old detective continue tracking without him, but he didn’t argue.

As the rest of them moved into the closer confines of the dark passage, Horace didn’t need to be particularly perceptive to notice his men tensing. However anxious they were, though, the men seemed to be keeping their professional wits about them.

The footing in the side passage was rougher than the main corridor’s had been, and the pace slowed accordingly. Agonizingly.

Patience, old man, Horace chided himself.

They had to pause at each of the periodic intersections to determine where the trail of blood went before continuing, but continue they did.

After a few twists and turns, the detective lost all concept of where they might be in relation to the factory overhead.

Were they even still under the property?

“Sir.”

One of the lead constables had called a halt just out of sight around a slight bend.

Moving forward, the inspector saw the cause.

Well. That was unexpected.

“Gentlemen.”

“Gov,” the man standing nearest replied, his hands raised nonthreateningly. Crowded behind the fellow (who was a slim sort with hair that glinted palely in the lamplight) were several other figures, easily twice the number of policemen present. Though, like their leader, the assembled thugs offered no visible threats, their combined numbers oozed menace. “S’pose you’d be Hinspector Tipple.”

Seeing no reason to prevaricate, Horace nodded.

“Well then, Gov,” the spokesman said, “Hi’ll take you on to negotiations wif Mr. ‘Arker. Just you. Your blokes an’ mine’ll stay ‘ere.”

“Sir!” One of the old man’s bodyguards reacted instantaneously; it made the inspector sigh inwardly.

“Constable,” Horace chided, and then he nodded to the blonde. “I’ll accompany you.”

Before he stepped forward he added (rolling encouragement to his men and a threat to their adversaries together): “And you and your men should know there are several further squads of policemen combing these tunnels. You raise a hand against any of my men in my absence – or after my return – and all hell will come down on you. Police whistles carry a long, long way, even in these dark, twisty passages.”

The leader cocked his head to one side briefly and then shrugged. “Won’t take long.”

Then he turned, a lamp in hand, and strode off down the narrow corridor.

Not sparing his men more than a glance, Horace shouldered his way through the throng of heavies to follow the bobbing light into the darkness.

* * * * *

The few hesitant tendrils of hope that had budded in David Powell’s breast after seeing his friend alive and awake didn’t last.

Not long after Lewis finished his lengthy conversation with Innocent, their captors barged in. The thugs moved more quickly than the priest and his companions, and the three were pulled rather roughly to their feet.

“Do we finally get to stretch our legs? I’ve been itching to have another gander about this place.”