Double Fault (28 page)

‘Acting … Ah, Acting DCI Barlow. Of course. But where's the CEOP superintendent?'

‘He's detailed to pick up our suspect.'

She could hear his hierarchical brain ticking. ‘Of course,' he admitted at last, ‘it's operationally appropriate that a senior officer be present. Very well. Give me your coordinates.'

‘I'll pass you to DCI Barlow – he's more technologically competent than I am, sir, and I think the father's just arrived,' she lied.

Ray's conversation with Wren was surprisingly calm and succinct. Once the call was over, she opened her mouth to congratulate him. But his radio crackled. Turning from her politely, he spoke with some force. She was too preoccupied to feel sorry for the person at the other end.

He turned to her. ‘It's Mark Turner and someone called Caffy?'

‘Caffy, yes. Our buildings expert.'

‘Right: you'd given them top-level clearance, I gather, Fran, but neither had any official ID, and … Anyway, they're on their way. That's probably them now.' He pointed to lights moving fast down the lane towards them. And some other lights coming much more slowly. ‘Oh, and that must be the horsebox the vet wanted – I don't blame her wanting to get the damned thing inside. There's a nasty wind blowing across that field and she's stayed with it all this time.'

‘Good.' He might be expecting a more positive response, but she didn't have the energy, especially as they all had to make way for the horsebox and then, of course, clear the yard all over again. There was a collective sigh of relief as the underpowered box struggled into action and off up the lane. ‘Now, I don't want even a second's delay when Zac and Bethany appear,' she said, as if he didn't know already. ‘Sorry.' She patted his shoulder. ‘You're doing fine.'

‘Thanks, Fran. I must say I'm a bit out of my depth, so it's good you're here. But you're not so good, are you? Shall I find you somewhere to sit?'

‘Do you ever sit on the job? Well, then.' Her voice might have started bracing, but ended grateful. ‘But thanks for the thought. I'll be OK. Don't start worrying about me in case you take your eye off the ball.' All the same, as the PACT van stopped, she had to wait for Mark and Caffy to run to her.

Ray pulled a face. ‘Women builders, guv?'

‘I hope I don't get a whiff of sexism there, Ray. Wait and see, that's all I'll say. Talk to Mark. He'd give her not just a medal, but a halo.'

To hell with what others might think, she hugged them both before, still holding Mark's hand, she briefed Caffy. Let Ray take his cue from her.

‘I'd better talk to the dog handlers,' Caffy said, professional as always, dipping back into the van for boots, hi-vis jacket and a hard hat. Times two, it transpired as she passed Mark his kit. In an instant she was transformed from their quasi-daughter into the professional who'd rescued their rectory. She strode off in Ray's wake.

All Fran wanted to do was collapse in Mark's arms, but that was scarcely an option. For an instant, she rested her forehead on his shoulder. Almost as an afterthought, she said, ‘Mark – would Livvie recognize your voice? She might, you know. Just might. Come and do the biz, for heaven's sake.' She paused while he donned the kit Caffy had provided. ‘Talk the talk, please, sweetheart, while we find a way in. She's behind that wall.'

She could see he had to say it: ‘I'm not trained—'

‘You're a grandfather – of course you're trained,' she said more crisply than she ought. ‘Please, just talk to her,' she added, her hand on his arm. ‘Imagine it's young Marco in there.'

Mark hunkered down; he even put his hand on the wall, as if to make better contact. ‘Livvie? It's Mark, here, your daddy's friend. From tennis. We've come to take you to your daddy. Did you hear that? Be a good girl and tell me where you got in.' He raised an urgent hand – silence from everyone. Then he cupped his ear – he couldn't hear her reply, could he?

‘She said something about Father Christmas!' Ginny whispered.

‘Father Christmas?' Mark repeated, but to Livvie.

Ginny pointed upwards and mimed. What the hell? ‘A chimney?' she whispered.

‘Did you come down a chimney?' Mark ventured.

Everyone except Mark heard her sob. Actually, he might just have done too.

Fran murmured into his ear, ‘Can you keep talking to her? Zac's on his way, tell her. And Bethany and their baby.'

‘Of course.' Mark pressed to the wall as if hugging the child to him and shouted. ‘Mummy's coming too. And Jack. They won't be long, Livvie. And I'll stay here till they come, I promise.' There was movement behind him. He'd been joined by Caffy and the handlers. The dog's tail might have been wagging the animal, it moved so fast. ‘Livvie, we've even got a dog looking for you. Can you hear the dog? Listen quietly, now!'

Flo barked obligingly.

Mark turned to her. ‘How about I phone Zac and switch the phone to conference? There's just a chance she'll hear him. And he her,' he added. ‘But the rest of you might drown her out.'

They withdrew soberly to the brightly lit yard. If anything, it was getting even colder.

Ray stepped forward. ‘Guv, do you want Ed and his team to stop Thwaite where he is and bring him over so he can tell us?'

She narrowed her eyes. ‘Do you really think he would? Some men might, others would clam. Besides which, it'd be interesting to see where he's heading. And I tell you now, if it's to someone else's house, we need to bug it straightaway. I want that conversation on record. Right?'

Caffy and the dog handlers had taken Flo back into the upper reaches of the building: Fran could hear movement, but there was no sign of them. Peering into the stable, she checked again on Mark and Livvie. Mark was holding the phone as close as he could to where they thought Livvie must be. Zac could talk to the child, even if he couldn't pick up her replies.

‘Any progress?' Mark mouthed.

‘Only that Wren's flying in.'

‘Maybe he does a good Father Christmas impression? I can't think of any other reason – Fran, you didn't?' His face fell comically.

‘Didn't what? Invite him? Had to. It was either that or me being whisked off to HQ and put on the naughty step, by the sound of it. He can deal with the media – come on, he'll relish that, won't he? And no jokes about preening. Until Livvie's out of here I'm this close to hysterical giggles.'

Ray's face appeared at the door. ‘Thwaite?' she asked, using Mark's shoulder to lever her up.

‘Still driving. Not obviously in this direction. But Ed thinks he may have suspected a tail and he's pulled right back. After all, Thwaite's tracking device is still transmitting happily so there's no point in worrying him. And Zac and Bethany are only about ten minutes away now.'

‘Excellent.' She passed the message on to Mark, still holding the phone to the wall as if his life depended on it. She took his spare hand and gripped it, dotting a kiss on it before she crept out again, straight into Caffy's arms.

Instead of a polite after-you dance, Caffy grabbed her and hugged her, asking quietly, ‘Are you OK? Silly question, you've got to be, haven't you? Anyway, just to update you: we think we must have come across a priest's hole. If you think of it, there must have been staging posts for Catholics coming over from the Continent during Elizabeth's reign, and this place is old enough to have been one of them. Externally I know it looks Elizabethan, but I reckon it might be an earlier building with a facelift – you know how when Georgian became fashionable loads of medieval houses had make-overs.'

Fran didn't, but nodded encouragement – the last thing she needed just now was a lecture on architecture.

‘While they were installing panelling and so on,' Caffy continued, gesturing to the upper level, ‘we think they must have constructed a hidden chamber. Trouble is, it's so well hidden we can't quite find it ourselves, not without tearing the wainscoting apart. For which we need permission, of course, technically from the owner.'

‘Are you sure that's the only way in? The child's just mentioned Father Christmas: is there a handy chimney?'

‘There's a whacking great fireplace. I'll get on to it. Or into it. Thanks for letting me do this, Fran. And Mark: he was so desperate to be involved.'

‘I couldn't manage without either of you,' Fran said sincerely. ‘Or your hugs.'

‘You'd better have another one, then. And then I'll locate my reindeer.'

‘Take care: we want two lives safe at the end of this, not one sacrificed in a fruitless search.' The two embraced.

Wren chose that moment to pop up. Hop up. Whatever. Fran couldn't read the expression on his face but introduced the two cheerily. ‘My boss, the Chief Constable, Caffy Tyler. Sir, this is my honorary daughter, a historic buildings expert. Like I said, Caffy – be careful. Simon and Gavin – the guys with the search and rescue dog – they'll have loads of appropriate equipment. Cooperate with them. Anything extra, let me know.'

‘On the other hand,' Wren objected, ‘if our suspect got the child into the building without such extras, it might be presumed that we can remove the child without them. And without damaging the building, if possible. We don't want legal repercussions, do we?'

‘Especially as you've not yet confirmed that I'm covered by your insurance,' Caffy rapped back, leaving Fran to take any flak as she clambered back to the upper floor. Pausing at the top, she called down, ‘Assuming that I am, would you care to see the site, Chief Constable?'

‘Chief Superintendent?' The wretched man made a courteous gesture. She was to go first.

‘Sorry, sir. I could lie and say my job's on the ground here, but I'll tell you the truth. My back's so painful that in other circumstances I'd be on sick leave.'

‘Back? I thought it was your leg that was broken?'

He sounded so offended that she was tempted to burst ironically into the old song about the connections between bones. ‘Secondary injury, sir. So though I'd give my teeth to be up there, I might put others at risk. But Ray Barlow's already checking it out, sir.' She pointed as Ray, his hand firmly grasped in Caffy's, made a final heave and scrambled to elevated safety.

‘She looks very young to be an expert.'

‘Ray's already dismissed her as the wrong sex to be an expert,' Fran said cheerfully. She debated pointing out that he'd not followed Ray aloft, but dismissed it as dangerous point-scoring when no one knew how much weight the upper floor would bear. In any case, there was movement behind her. ‘Mark? Problem?'

He waved his phone as if he'd like to commit violence either with it or upon it. ‘The battery's given out. Ah. Wren.' Nodding coldly, the two men eyed each other in mutual distaste. ‘As has Zac's,' he continued, getting back to more important matters. ‘Can one of your people get in there and keep Livvie posted? You know my hearing's not up to it.'

Fran wasn't sure that hers was. Where was that nice girl who'd escorted her down here? Jeanie? Ginny! ‘Where are you, Ginny? Good girl, can you get in there and tell Livvie that the phone's gone wrong but that her daddy's getting nearer every second? Keep her talking. It may help Caffy and the others locate the opening. Thanks.' She smiled and turned to Wren, who still hadn't managed to speak to Mark. Out of the blue came a memory of an A level text when a woman called Mrs Moore knew she had to get warring factions apart. She tried her hand with Wren first: ‘Sir? This is the other part of the site.' She led the way into the stable. ‘You can see at first hand the challenges we're facing. At least we've got rid of the horse,' she added kindly as he slipped on some manure.

When they'd come in, Ginny was calling reassuring words, and turned, ready to pass on what Livvie had said. There was no need, however, to interpret what they all heard – and possibly those outside too. A piercing, terrified scream.

M
ark didn't think he could move so fast. He was up on the upper storey and in the huge fireplace before he knew it, and, elbowing Ray aside, peering down on his hands and knees beside the frantic spaniel and one of its handlers. Of Caffy and the other handler there was no sign.

‘Gavin,' the young man said, offering his hand as if they were guests at some formal party. ‘There's no problem. It's just that a panel gave way before we could warn Livvie and she was surprised, that's all. Nearly as surprised as we were, to be honest. Looked like solid stone and it just slipped sideways.'

‘Mark. A friend of Livvie's father.' They shook hands formally. ‘What are the chances of getting her out?'

‘Look for yourself. No, wait. Clip this round you first. OK with heights, are you?'

Heights were the last thing in the world he was OK with, but he leant down anyway. ‘Livvie? Livvie?' He'd have liked to wave but that meant releasing one hand gripping the edge of the hearth as if his life depended on it, not Gavin's safety line. ‘I'm your daddy's friend Mark. Tennis? We were talking, weren't we, before you could talk to your daddy.'

‘I wet my knickers.'

‘We'll find you some dry ones.' He hoped to goodness Bethany had had the sense to bring a change of clothes for her. He should have thought of it – no way Fran would. Was there? ‘Caffy, how soon can you get her out?'

‘Soon as Gavin lets down the next safety line. And a dear little hard hat specially for her. Just move to one side, Mark, and let us get on with it. But don't go far: I think she'd like you to be the one to hold her when she pops up like a rabbit out of its hole.'

He did as he was told, but yelled down to the onlookers in the yard – no police radio for him, after all – to give the good news. Back to the hole, to reach for the arms lifted trustingly to him. Yes, the child smelt – knickers worse than wet – but she was alive and trusting him as two of his own grandchildren would never get the chance to do. Cradling her, he put his face down to hers.