Peter Diamond - 09 - The Secret Hangman (24 page)

He shouted, ‘Police! Stop where you are, face down on the floor.’

If he was heard, he wasn’t heeded. The trainers moved on and disappeared.

He didn’t understand how, unless there was a side-passage. He didn’t think he could be outpaced that rapidly, although Lang was presumably a fit man. All he could do was press on and hope for another sighting. The flashlight showed nothing yet. More tunnel, but nothing else.

He shouted, ‘Harry Lang?’

There was just an echo.

But the tunnel ended not far beyond the point where he’d sighted the man ahead. It opened out into a far larger space where stone had been mined extensively and there were massive pillars supporting the roof . He stepped out and straightened up and the others emerged as well and stood with him, taking in the new situation, a roof ten to fifteen feet high and a choice of directions.

It was a relief to stand upright, but with it came the depressing realisation that Lang could have gone any one of six ways. No footprints here. Any dust was confined to the edges of the working.

‘I spotted him,’ Diamond said. ‘I definitely saw him.’

‘This is Coxe’s mine,’ the senior caver said, as if it was the other side of the moon. ‘We’ll be somewhere under Fox Hill.’

‘Is it large?’

‘Large enough. I’d say the odds are stacked in his favour now, but it’s your call.’

Whatever else you could say about Diamond, he wasn’t a quitter. ‘In that case, we split up. Three teams of four. A caver with each. Do we have enough lights? Meet back here in half an hour. The team that brings back Harry Lang gets free drinks at the pub.’

38

T
he tunnel Diamond had picked was one of the main arteries of the system, so at least it wasn’t as back-breaking as the previous stretch. Harry Lang could well have chosen the same way believing it offered the best chance of putting distance between himself and his pursuers. They were moving at the best speed they could, a brisk walk. One hunted individual will generally travel faster than the pack, but there would surely come a point when they would corner him – if this was where he’d headed.

Maybe it was a promising sign, Diamond thought, that he could feel particles of grit in his mouth and nose. If Lang had come this way he must have disturbed some dust.

‘Let’s have another listen.’

The team stopped. There was definitely a sound, but it was from behind them, a distant voice from one of the other teams.

Diamond looked to his left. The caver now at his side wasn’t the senior man.

‘Do you know this mine?’

‘Most of it.’

‘How far does this tunnel run?’

‘I’d say another quarter mile, no more.’

‘Is there any way he can get out?’

‘Not without climbing gear.’

One of the bobbies said, ‘Plenty of places to hide, though.’

‘Thanks a bunch – just what I wanted to hear,’ Diamond said.

About half a minute on, they stopped again, this time because a piece of stone the size of a dinner plate crashed down in front of them and broke into pieces. The caver spread his arms to stop anyone going forward. He shone his flashlight on the section of roof the slab had come from. ‘This is the problem. See the hairline cracks? There’s more to come.’

‘We can’t stop now,’ Diamond said.

‘I’m saying this part is unstable.’

‘Let’s get past, then.’

‘I don’t advise it.’

‘I wasn’t asking for advice. What are hard hats for?’

He didn’t check to see if they were following. This wasn’t a boy scout trip. They were hot on the trail of a man who’d killed five people. You don’t give up when you’re that close. He pressed on, dipping the flashlight beam at intervals to check for footprints.

Then there was a sound from up ahead. Unlike anything they’d heard up to now, it was certainly not the rumble of traffic. This was a cracking sound followed immediately by a five-second boom.

They barely had time to react before a cloud of dust surged along the tunnel towards them. The force pitched Diamond against the man behind and they both fell backwards. Fine sand whipped their faces and invaded their eyes and noses. The flashlight had fallen and gone out.

‘What the hell was that?’

‘Roof collapse,’ the caver said. ‘We’re out of here.’ He’d managed to get his light going and it was pointing the way they had come.

If Diamond had remained, he would have been alone. The team was already in flight. Even he wasn’t that stubborn. He remembered the image that local man had conjured of half a garden disappearing down a huge crater. He got up and staggered after the others. They didn’t stop until they reached the end of the tunnel at the place where everyone had agreed to meet.

‘Didn’t I warn you?’ the caver said. He was red-eyed, but so were they all. ‘We could have been buried alive.’

‘Maybe someone is,’ one of the officers said. ‘He must have triggered the fall.’

‘If it’s a rescue situation, we won’t have you lot buggering it up,’ the caver said. ‘The rest of my team will be here soon. They must have heard it. They’re not that far away.’

Diamond said nothing. He was shaken. The young caver was right. Four lives had been put at risk and he was mainly responsible. Even the probable capture of a serial killer wasn’t worth so much.

The two other groups weren’t long in returning to the main area. It was agreed that the roof fall had almost certainly been caused by the suspect running through an unstable stretch of tunnel. The cavers were rescue experts and it was their duty to get the man out alive if at all possible. Diamond said the police, too, had an interest in saving the life of Harry Lang.

‘The best help you can give,’ the cavers’ team leader said, ‘is to get out and let us get on with our job.’

‘You might need to shift some heavy stuff.’

‘We’ll deal with that.’

‘He’s a dangerous man.’

‘If he’s under a ton of rock he won’t give any trouble. Go to the top and get them organised up there. We need picks and spades, a phone line, stretcher, paramedics and ambulance waiting. And more cavers to work from the other side of the fall.’

This was an expert speaking and Diamond knew he was right.

A bunch of untrained policemen would be a hindrance. The priorities had changed.

‘You don’t have to go all the way back into Firs,’ the team leader said. ‘There’s a way out which is quicker.’

They took it, a short walk, a steep climb up a ramp into the bliss of fresh air. Daylight, too, unreal after the darkness underground.

With mobiles working again, he put out the necessary calls. Soon ambulances would be waiting at two of the mine entrances and a second team of cavers lowered by rope through an airshaft. The theory was that Lang might be alive on the other side of the roof fall. This would be the only way to reach him.

Someone saw the state of them and offered the use of a shower. Kettles were boiled and tea provided. Crowds were gathering now. Most of Combe Down seemed to know that a wanted man was underground.

John Leaman drove up to the house where the police had freshened up. He wanted to be updated. Diamond said like a veteran caver, ‘These things take time. Safety considerations.’

‘I’ll radio the CAD room. Do we need more help?’

‘We’ll cope. Get Lang’s car transported for a full forensic check.’

‘Already in hand, guv.’

More than half an hour had passed since Diamond and his dusty team had emerged from the mine. A scratchy phone line was in place underground. The original team of cavers had found the tunnel totally blocked by a fall about two hundred yards beyond the point Diamond had reached. The second team, working from the other side, had located the site of the collapse without yet finding Lang.

‘Doesn’t look good for him,’ Leaman said.

‘Doesn’t look good for any of us if he’s dead meat,’ Diamond said. ‘We know sod all about him.’

Another twenty minutes passed before a message came from underground. The original team had reached a man under the rubble. He was out cold, but they’d found a pulse. A doctor was in attendance.

Harry Lang was stretchered to the surface and driven to the Royal United Hospital to be put into intensive care. He hadn’t recovered consciousness.

39

‘N
ow I know how an expectant father feels,’ Diamond said as a nurse came out and walked past without even making eye contact.

Leaman thought about that for a while. ‘You want five?’

‘What?’

‘A break. Five minutes. I don’t mind hanging on here.’

Diamond turned to face him. ‘John.’

‘Guv?’

‘If I’d wanted five, I’d have taken it.’

‘Oh, cheers.’

They’d been here twenty-five. In that time they’d checked Harry Lang’s discarded clothes and found little of interest. At the time of the accident he wasn’t carrying a wallet or a mobile. All that was found with him was a hand-torch. It was likely, Diamond suggested to Leaman, that during the chase Lang had thrown away anything that might link him to the crimes. The clothes would be checked at the forensics lab but if there was anything apart from limestone dust it would be remarkable.

Yet another trolley was pushed along the corridor. This wasn’t the tea urn or medicines. It was library books. Diamond snapped his fingers and said, ‘Hey.’

The man with the trolley looked round. ‘Sorry, the books are for inpatients.’ Then he did a double-take and said, ‘Peter, what brings you here?’

For Leaman’s benefit, Diamond said, ‘Jerry Kean, John Leaman. I have news for you, Jerry. Remember those names you gave me – the personal trainers? One came up trumps.’

‘Which one?’

‘Lang. Harry Lang. I was going to speak to your mother, ask her to pass on my thanks. As a matter of fact, we’re waiting to interview Mr Lang any minute now.’

‘Here?’

‘He’s in intensive care.’

Jerry’s eyes swivelled.

‘Not what you’re thinking,’ Diamond said. ‘We’re not the heavy mob. He had an accident.’

‘What happened?’

‘Long story. We just hope he pulls through.’

‘Poor guy,’ Jerry said. ‘I’ll pray for him. By the way, I’ve got something for you.’ He ducked and pulled out a book from the bottom shelf of the trolley. ‘Here.
A Murder is Announced
.’

One of Steph’s Agatha Christies.

‘Unsuitable?’ Diamond said.

‘No. Open it and you’ll see.’

A bookmark was inserted at the title page. There, Diamond saw, in his own writing,
To my one and only love, on her birthday, from
Pete
. He felt a stab of self-reproach and his eyes moistened. So easy to be ambushed.

Jerry was saying, ‘One of the patients noticed. You wouldn’t want it doing the rounds, would you?’

‘Thanks.’

Jerry rummaged in the bottom shelf again and produced a black totebag. ‘Put it in this. You don’t want to be seen walking around with an Agatha Christie. Not in your job.’

He had a point.

Diamond thanked him and dropped the book in, noticing as he did that the word ‘Hosannah’ was written in gold lettering on the bag.

‘A plug for my church,’ Jerry said. ‘If you want the matching T-shirt, just ask. Look, if you don’t mind I’ve two more wards to get round.’ He steered his trolley away and rejoined the flow along the corridor.

This was the busy time, visitors with flowers and grapes making their way to the wards. One of Diamond’s neighbours gave a wave as she walked past.

‘I get the feeling if we sit here long enough everyone we ever met will come by,’ he said to Leaman.

‘I don’t follow that.’

‘No, with your logical mind you wouldn’t.’

‘Was your friend serious about praying?’

‘Since we’re being precise, he’s not so much a friend as the son of a friend. Is he serious? I believe he is.’

Leaman’s mouth turned down in distaste. ‘Pray for a serial killer?’

‘We’re all sinners, aren’t we?’

‘Are you a church-goer, guv?’

‘I went to Sunday school a few times. I was trying to see it from his point of view. He’s a believer. Praying is what they do.’ He took the bookmark from the Agatha Christie. He’d noticed all the books in the trolley had one sticking out. It read:
Hosannah Free Church, Green Park Road, Bath, reaching out to one
and all. Lord’s Day Services at 8 a.m., 11 a.m. and 6.30 p.m. Join
us and be joyful.

He handed it to Leaman. ‘Get the message?’

Leaman gave it a glance and handed it back. ‘The joyful bit puts me off. But I’ll say this for your friend. He’s not just a Sunday Christian.’

‘Yes, it humbles you, doesn’t it?’

‘What, other people going to church?’

‘Doing their best to save sinners when toerags like me are hoping they’ll save someone else, not us. His mother isn’t quite so caught up in it, I’m glad to say.’

‘Are you agnostic, guv?’

‘Not really.’

‘So what would you call yourself?’

‘Fat and lazy.’

Having sorted out religion, they lapsed into another period of people-watching.

‘Changing the subject,’ Leaman said, ‘while you were underground, Ingeborg called in from Midford wanting to speak to you.’

‘She’s still there?’ Brookview Lodge seemed as remote as last week’s news. ‘What was she on about?’

‘She wouldn’t say. I sensed she’d found some little item and didn’t want you hearing it second-hand.’

‘That would be the journalist in Inge. They like their credits.’

‘She’s supposed to be one of us now.’

‘Don’t take it personally, John. She’s a team player in every other way.’

A doctor came out of the ward, hesitated and looked round. Diamond was on his feet at once. ‘Are you looking for us?’

‘Are you from the police?’

‘I am.’ He identified himself. ‘Is there any improvement?’

‘He opened his eyes ten minutes ago.’

‘Can we go in?’

The doctor shook his head. ‘You’ll get damn all out of him. Leave it an hour. He’ll come back to us by degrees. There’s a canteen for outpatients downstairs.’

‘An hour – as long as that? Someone else’s life is on the line, Doctor.’

Such statements don’t carry much weight with doctors in intensive care units. ‘Didn’t you hear me? He’s not coherent yet. What’s he been up to – if it isn’t a state secret?’

Diamond stepped closer and lowered his voice. ‘He’s a suspect in a murder case. It’s vital we interview him at the first opportunity. He may know the whereabouts of a missing person every police force in the region is looking for.’

‘You won’t get two sensible words out of him. What was he doing down the mine?’

‘On the run.’

‘Well, he won’t be running anywhere tonight. Both legs are broken below the knee. You’re sure of your facts – his name, and so forth?’

‘Harry Lang.’

The doctor looked thoughtful. ‘This was definitely the man you were pursuing?’

‘I saw him on the stretcher.’ Diamond frowned. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘Just that Harry Lang sounds such a British name. When he came round a few minutes ago he was talking gibberish, as they do, only it wasn’t English gibberish. I’m no linguist myself, but I’d say it was one of the Slavic languages.’

Down in the canteen they tried making sense of this latest twist. Leaman asked if it really mattered if the man was Polish or Ukrainian. ‘He may have given himself an English-sounding name because his own was unpronounceable. It doesn’t stop him being the main suspect.’

Diamond was shredding a Bath bun as if it contained a hidden message. He didn’t respond.

Leaman went on rationalising. ‘It fits in quite well with the personal-trainer thing. These guys from Eastern Europe love their sport. I bet the female clients are impressed by a foreign accent, too.’

‘I saw the birth certificate. Harry Lang was born in Lewisham.’

Leaman flushed and sat back in his chair.

Some seconds passed before Diamond said, ‘When he did a runner I assumed it was because he was our suspect. He was out of that house and through the neighbour’s as soon as we turned up. He drives out to Combe Down and goes underground. It’s the action of a guilty man – isn’t it?’

‘Is there any doubt?’

‘I’m less confident than I was.’

‘Why? His kit was in the car. It can’t be anyone else.’

Diamond reached into his back pocket and took out the photo he’d found in Lang’s flat, the 9.85 points pose. No question this was the man he’d seen stretchered into the ambulance.

‘Is that him? Jocelyn Steel’s trainer?’ Leaman said.

‘Yep.’ He was still looking at the photo. ‘Where we found this there were also a couple of letters in a foreign language. I didn’t think anything of it at the time.’ He glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘Let’s go upstairs.’

‘We haven’t been here twenty minutes, guv. You haven’t eaten your bun.’

Diamond was on his feet and making for the exit.

Two nurses were in the intensive care unit when the detectives walked in. Diamond showed his ID and said he’d spoken to the doctor and now he needed a word with the patient – a justifiable economy with the facts.

Harry Lang had his eyes closed and was tubed and wired. His face had been cleaned up since he was on the stretcher. Instead of dust, bruising on his cheek and forehead bore witness to the rock fall.

‘Harry.’

No reaction.

‘Harry Lang.’

The lips moved and spoke something incomprehensible. Polish? It could have been anything.

‘I’m a police officer. Police, do you understand?’

He did not. One of the nurses stepped forward and said, ‘I don’t know what the doctor said to you, but this is too soon. He’s getting it together, but slowly. There’s a canteen downstairs.’

‘Has he said anything at all in English?’

She shook her head. ‘He sounds like a foreigner to me.’

They left the unit. Instead of taking a seat outside, Diamond marched on through a set of swing doors and turned right into one of the general wards. Leaman, uncertain what this was about, followed. Diamond took one look along the ward, turned about and almost collided with his colleague.

‘Not this one.’

He moved on. Halfway up the next ward with his trolley was Jerry Kean, helping someone choose a book. Two patients in dressing gowns were by the trolley leafing through novels.

‘Jerry.’

The young man looked back over his shoulder and saw Diamond and Leaman. ‘What’s up?’

‘You put me onto Harry Lang. Do you know him well?’

‘Look, I’m doing my job here.’

‘Understood. So am I, and I need help. What can you tell me about the man?’

Jerry gave the patients an apology and turned back to Diamond.

‘Harry’s been around a year or so. Works for an agency. I haven’t heard anything bad about him.’

‘But you’ve met him?’

‘At the gym a few times. You asked if I know him well and I wouldn’t say I do.’

‘Spoken with him?’

‘Like I said.’

He put the key question to Jerry. ‘The accent. He’s a foreigner, isn’t he?’

Jerry scratched his head and frowned. ‘His English is pretty good, but yes, there’s something about the accent.’

‘He’s never mentioned coming from anywhere else?’

‘All we’ve talked about is football and cars.’

‘He drives a nice car, a new Subaru.’

‘There’s nothing remarkable in that. It’s about image. The clients don’t expect you to turn up in some old banger.’

‘Yes, but he lives in a council flat.’

‘No mortgage. He can afford a good car.’

Diamond had heard enough. ‘Thanks, Jerry.’

He went to the quiet end of the ward and used his new mobile to call Keith Halliwell. ‘Did you get the search warrant?’

‘Sorted. The scene of crime team are in Lang’s flat already.’

‘That birth certificate. They’ll have that, presumably?’

‘It’ll be bagged up by now, guv.’

‘Just my luck. Do you remember the details?’

‘Not everything. Harry Spellman Lang, wasn’t it? Born in Lewisham, 1978.’

‘Did it look genuine to you?’

‘It was a copy certified by the General Register Office.’

‘But anyone can apply for one.’

‘They’d need the name and details.’

‘Which are in the index in the search room at the Family Records Centre. What I’m saying is if someone wanted to pass himself off as Harry Lang all he has to do is get the details and apply for a certificate. You could call yourself John Lennon and ask for a copy of the birth certificate.’

‘What’s this about, guv?’

‘This character in intensive care is speaking in some foreign language. I don’t think he was born in Lewisham. I’m wondering if the reason he did a runner is because he’s an illegal.’

The call stopped there because a hand clutched Diamond’s arm and forced the phone away from his ear. The ward sister had taken over. ‘Can’t you read?’ she said. ‘There are notices all over the hospital telling you not to use mobiles.’

‘Sorry, Sister,’ he said.

She was staring at the bag he was carrying. ‘I hope you haven’t been harassing the patients.’

‘I’m a senior police officer.’

‘I don’t care if you’re God. Out.’