Murder Takes the High Road(79)

Instead, I fumbled my way around a corner.

The tunnel had branched off. The floor had leveled out. I kept walking, and came to another corner. I went on, but more slowly now. I was pretty sure I was not being pursued, which was good. But why wasn’t I being pursued? Where was Ben?

Where was I?

Question: If the police had arrived, why were they not coming to the rescue?

Answer A: The police had not arrived.

Answer B: The police did not know I needed rescuing.

Answer C: The police here took a dim view of amateur sleuthing and the dumbasses who did it.

Answer D: None of the above.

How long had I been wandering around down here? Half an hour? An hour? How long before anyone noticed I was missing?

Oh, here was a thought. How would anyone think to look for me in a secret passage if Ben didn’t tell them what had happened?

I stopped walking.

Yeah. I had been sure Ben wanted me dead. And maybe he had. But most of all, he wanted me out of the way. And I was about as out of the way as a guy could get.

And getting more out of the way with every step.

“Hey!” I yelled. “Can anyone hear me?”

To my astonishment I heard the very faint echo of my words bounce back.

Hey! Can anyone hear me?

Hear me?

Hear me?

I tried it again. “Hello? Is anyone out there?”

Hello? Is anyone out there?

Out there?

Out there?

Okay. Not good. If I was hearing an echo I was a lot farther underground than I’d realized. I might have accidentally stumbled onto one of the old tunnels used by smugglers back in the day. Although I thought those had all been closed off.

Anyway, no need to panic. Ben was unlikely to be still hanging around the library. I could simply retrace my footsteps, go back the way I’d come.

Yeah. Right.

I took my time, and found my way back around the two corners, but the floor did not seem to rise and before long I was turning a third and then a fourth corner, and the floor was sloping down again.

Where the hell was I going?

Even with a light, I might have had trouble. In total and disorienting darkness? No question about it. I was lost.

Completely and totally lost.

*

The walls felt damp beneath my hands. I sniffed my fingertips and recognized seawater. The air was less stale now, I could smell rain. Even the darkness seemed to have faded a little.

Was there light ahead? I wiped the sweat from my forehead and took a closer look. Were the shadows thinning?

I had been wandering around for at least a couple of hours. Stumbling down long, interminable passages. I had turned thirteen corners. I had tried yelling for help at intervals, but there was never a response.

I was cold. I was tired. I was hungry. I was starting to think I might really be in trouble.

And then two things happened. The floor beneath my feet turned to rocks and sand. Well, wet sand and wet rocks. Secondly, I heard voices.

“Hello?” I yelled. “Can you hear me?”

A woman screamed in reply, “Yes! Help! Help us! We’re here! Help us! For God’s sake help us!”

A second voice, also feminine—and more familiar to me—cried harshly, “Stop it! Don’t be a fool! Be quiet.”

“We need help! We’re going to die down here!” Daya protested.

I was right. There was daylight ahead. Bars of light striped the ground. I knew where I was now. I stopped beneath the round grate and gazed up at grass and the gray, stormy sky above.

“We’ll be all right,” Yvonne said. “We just have to wait for them to leave.”

I followed the voices, peering through the gloom. I could see them now, bedraggled and white-faced. They were huddled, shivering before a wall of broken rock and debris. They had gone as far as they could. We all had. The rest of the tunnel was blocked off.

“You!” Yvonne cried, spotting me. She raised her arm and came toward me. Something glinted in her hand. A rock? A knife? Hypodermic needle maybe?

I wasn’t taking any chances. I grabbed her arm, twisting it, and she dropped the hypo. I stepped on it, smashing it, and shoved her back. She staggered and fell against the rocks, glaring at me.

“Haven’t you done enough?” I said. “You couldn’t stop at destroying Vanessa. You had to drag Ben into it as well. Now what? How do you think this ends?”

I thought Yvonne would hurl herself at me again. Instead, she glanced at Daya, who began to sob. The fight seemed to go out of her. She leaned back against the rocks and closed her eyes.

I walked back and stood under the grate. Flecks of rain hit my face. “Hey!” I yelled. “Can anyone hear my voice? Is someone up there?”

Footsteps thudded overhead. A rosy-faced police constable in a yellow rain slicker peered down through the bars.

“Mr. Matheson?” he said. “Is that you? Are you all right, sir?”

“I’m all right,” I said. “I’m not alone down here. I’ve found your fugitives. They may need medical attention.”

Things happened pretty fast after that. The first constable was joined by a slightly older female constable. We chatted briefly and they both disappeared with the promise that I would soon be out of my underground prison.

A new visitor in a tan trench coat took their place. John. He looked uncharacteristically haggard as he bent down, reaching down through the grate. “Jesus Christ, Carter. I thought—” His voice shook.