Dying to Know (A Detective Inspector Berenice Killick Mystery) (34 page)

She
wished
Guy
were
here
to
ask
,
or
her
father
. ‘
What
kind
of
experiment
is
it
,
that
needs
a
tunnel
?
What
is
he
looking
for
?
’

But
she
knew
,
as
she
sat
,
staring
out
into
dusk
,
that
if
Guy
were
still
alive
,
Gabriel
would
have
no
need
for
this
.
There
would
be
no
tunnel
,
no
new
experiment
,
no
obsession
with
the
aether
,
the
quintessence
,
the
force
that
defeats
the
great
Nothing
.
Instead
we
would
be
as
we
were
,
the
three
of
us
.
We
would
be
unburdened
and
joyful
,
and
Gabriel
would
learn
,
at
last
,
how
to
be
a
father
to
Grace
.

And
a
husband
to
me
.

Gabriel
lifted
the
heavy
oak
beam
that
sealed
the
door
,
and
entered
the
tunnel
.
He
carried
two
candles
,
which
he
placed
either
side
of
his
makeshift
workbench
.
He
had
stumbled
upon
this
tunnel
,
a
smugglers’
hideout
,
some
weeks
ago
,
and
had
made
it
his
own
.
He
knew
it
was
ideal
for
his
experiment
,
which
needed
darkness
,
away
from
the
forces
above
ground
,
away
from
the
particles
of
light
.

The
bench
was
covered
with
wires
,
with
mirrors
.
In
the
middle
of
the
wires
sat
Guy’s
watch
.
It
seemed
to
glow
in
the
candlelight
.

As
it
was
in
the
beginning
,
he
thought
.
Is
now
,
and
ever
shall
be
,
world
without
end
.

Time
is
the
key
to
it
all
.

Sometimes
,
even
here
,
he
glimpsed
him
,
his
blonde
hair
,
his
torn
shirt
.

Is
now
and
ever
shall
be
,
he
thought
.

The
tide
was
coming
in
.
He
could
hear
the
water
,
lapping
beyond
the
old
brick
wall
.
He
stared
at
the
pretty
red
bricks
in
their
herring
-
bone
pattern
,
and
wondered
what
they
used
to
store
here
.
Contraband
.
Barrels
of
whisky
.
Firearms
,
perhaps
.

But
now
it
was
his
,
and
he
was
ready
to
work
.

All
these
months
,
he’d
been
circling
the
truth
of
the
fifth
element
,
the
quintessence
,
the
aether
. ‘
You
and
me
,
Guy
–
’
he
spoke
out
loud
,
his
voice
muffled
by
the
thick
clay
walls
. ‘
I
did
not
desert
you
.
Our
work
will
live
on
.
’

Behind
the
wall
,
the
sea
murmured
.
In
the
darkness
,
the
candles
flickered
.

Clem shone a torch into the darkness. His other arm was linked with Lisa’s, his hand clamped onto her wrist.

‘Where
are we, Dad?’

‘The
old tunnel.’

She
could hear the sea, as if close by. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see the mud walls, dripping with water, the wet floor. In the middle of the space was a wooden structure, a kind of bench.

‘What’s
that?’ Her voice shook.

‘It’s
from the old ones, the science ones.’

‘It’s
fucking soaking wet in here.’

‘We’ll
wait here, Girl. They won’t find us here.’ He spread his coat across a puddle and sat down on it.

‘Dad
– you’re crazy - ’

His
eyes were blank in the darkness. ‘I won’t let them take you away, Girl. We belong together. When I get the house, when we’re living the dream…’ He gave a brief, empty smile.

The
sea seemed louder. At the far end of the space, by the wall, the water level rose.

‘Dad
– it ain’t safe – when the tide comes in - ’

‘The
wall will keep it out.’

‘What
fucking wall? It’s half collapsed.’

He
turned, slowly, and stared at it. ‘No. It’s fine. Look.’

The
bricks, where they stood, were small, herring-boned. The wall was riven in two, one side still standing, the other side a heap of brick dust and stone.

‘How’s
that going to keep out the tide, Dad?’

As
she stared, another wave of seawater lapped at the broken stones.

‘The
flood,’ he said. ‘It’s what they always said. The new tunnel would be cursed.’

‘Who
said, Dad?’ She tried to calm her voice. She looked towards the entrance, the thick oak door.

‘It’s
what I tried to tell them. Ghosts, walking the corridors. And then the flood will come and wash all clean…’

She
began to move towards the door.

‘Where
are you going?’ His voice was sharp.

‘I
ain’t staying here, Dad. We’re going to drown - ’

He
was on his feet, ahead of her. He reached the door, lifted the old oak beam with both hands, and dropped it across the door. He stood, breathing. ‘A third one dead,’ he said. ‘We can’t go back.’

She
stared at the door. She went to the beam, tried to lift it. ‘I can’t… ’ Tears pricked her eyes.

He
went to his coat, sank back down, leaning against the side of the tunnel. He was blank-faced, clenching and unclenching his fists.

‘Dad
– if we stay here, we’ll – we’ll drown.’

He
looked at her, as if seeing something beyond her. ‘The old house,’ he said. ‘When I went there, as a child. It had roses round the door. White roses.’

‘Dad
– you’re going to kill us both.’

He
didn’t answer. He stared straight ahead, a thin smile on his lips.

She
moved away from the door. She sat against the opposite wall, hugging her knees.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Liam
pulled out onto the dual carriageway, screwing up his eyes against the morning sun.

A
press conference. Short notice. The announcement of the results, the Director had said.

What
results, was the question. How is Richard going to make any kind of sense at all, when we don’t even know what these particles are, these charges, whatever they are, and anyway, the press camped outside the lab may, just, be more interested in the two dead physicists rather than a ten to the minus eight-six charge possibility…

Who’s
next? one journalist had said to him as he had passed the other day, a guy in a crumpled leather jacket with matching face - and Liam had been rather short with him, ‘it’s not a field sport, you know…’ But now, turning off towards the lab, Liam remembered Neil’s missed calls and was aware of a background hum of anxiety.

It
didn’t help that some of the local press had picked up on the fragments of rumours surrounding the setting up of the lab thirty odd years ago, the ruined house, the land being cursed. Liam found himself musing on the tension between science and superstition, wondering whether it had always been this way, the stories we tell ourselves, a hint of guilt, ever-present, the inevitable come-uppance.

And
there it was, beyond the intersection of the road into town, the industrial estate, the car park, the hotel. He could even pick out the window of their room, a tiny square in the pure white of the façade, innocent in the morning sun. But in his mind Liam saw them both, saw her raw nakedness arching in pleasure, felt a stiffening ache of desire.