Now You See Me (36 page)

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Authors: Sharon Bolton

BOOK: Now You See Me
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I
NSTINCTIVELY, I FLICKED OFF THE TORCH. THE VOICE WAS followed by a crackling sound like paper being torn. Or the hiss of a police radio. Impossible. They could not know I was here. I'd heard something from street level, that was all, a sound that had travelled down through one of the ventilation grilles.
I wasn't anywhere near the ventilation grilles. I was crossing the basement, the grilles were in the horse tunnels.
For God's sake, I'd been ultra careful, there was no way the MIT could have found me. They hadn't even been looking. All the surveillance and tracking equipment Joesbury had given me had been wrecked the night I fell in the river; he hadn't replaced any of it.
Except the phone.
Only the growing conviction that someone was close enough to hear kept me from moaning out loud. I'd been issued with a new phone while I was in hospital, one that had come from the specialist crime directorate that sends its officers into dangerous situations and needs to keep track of them. I'd kept it switched off for most of the day, thinking a phone needed to be on to be traceable. What if Joesbury had put some sort of device inside mine that was permanently active whether the phone was on or not?
Gently, I pulled it out of my pocket. As I did so, any doubt I might be clinging to disappeared. From not too far away came the sound of someone stepping into water.
The MIT hadn't needed to look for me. They'd known exactly
where I was all day, probably from the moment I'd left Joesbury's car. They'd been watching and following; waiting for me to lead them here.
I almost gave up there and then, almost switched on the torch and called out to them. But something stopped me. It wasn't over yet.
I'd been following the south wall of the goods-shed basement. If I reached out it was close enough to touch. I bent down and soundlessly put Joesbury's traitorous mobile by the wall. Then, with the fingers of one hand tracing the outside wall, I set off. After a few more minutes I reached the corner. By a massive stroke of luck, my left hand found the hole in the wall that would take me through to the western horse tunnel. I risked the torch for less than a second, and went through, knowing I was very close now. A corner, a few more metres and I would be able to enter the Engine Vaults at the upper, gallery level. If I'd got it right, Llewellyn would be at the far end of the structure watching the stairs. If I were wrong, well, all bets were off.
I waited just before the corner, listening. Then, in almost total darkness, I turned and walked into the vaults. I was near water again. A lot of it. The floor of the Engine Vaults is permanently underwater and ten years ago we'd built our little homes on the gallery that runs around three sides of the perimeter.
I moved slowly, praying the gallery floor was still solid. A lot can happen in ten years. The structure was 170 feet long. Maybe a hundred slow steps to take me along the main gallery to the upper floor of the eastern boiler room. The boiler rooms were smaller spaces and less draughty; in the old days they'd been the most coveted spots. They were where Llewellyn would be holding Joanna.
It was far too dark to see the water beneath me but I could hear it moving, soft little ripples and splashes, and the smell of it seemed to be coating the inside of my throat. I could almost imagine it had grown deeper, deeper even than the ten feet I remembered, stretching up towards the gallery, that if I leaned out from the edge, my hand might touch it. I had an unnerving sense of walking around the perimeter of a vast underground swimming pool.
My fingers found the corner of the gallery and I took a few sideways steps. When I touched the suspended sheet of polythene, I
knew I was at the entrance to the boiler room. As I pushed it silently to one side and stepped through, I heard movement.
The darkness in the boiler room was absolute. I remembered the space all too well, had made my way around it before in almost complete darkness, but there is a difference, I was discovering, between the almost complete and the absolute. A decade ago, there had always been a candle, or a gas lamp, or an oil drum somewhere. Now, someone could be inches away from me, staring straight into my eyes, and I wouldn't know it. Torch or voice, I would have to use one of them.
‘Joanna,' I whispered, knowing that, of the two, a low sound would be the less noticeable.
Another movement, this one more urgent. And the sounds a woman makes in the back of her throat when she can't speak.
‘Shush,' I risked. ‘Don't talk.'
She whimpered a couple of times more, enough to give me a fix. She was about three metres away. I moved forward, one small step at a time, until my foot came up against something soft. Another whimper.
I crouched low.
Not daring to put the torch down in case I never found it again, I reached out and touched her legs. She was wearing nylon tights and was freezing. I ran my hand down her legs to her ankles and found them duct-taped together. I was just pulling my rucksack off to find the knife when she pulled her knees up towards her chin and kicked out at me.
As I went down, I couldn't stop the yelp slipping out. I pushed myself up but had no idea where she was, where the torch was, where I was. I made myself keep still and listen, it was the only thing I could do.
The darkness felt solid, as if it was pressing into me on all sides. Then two distinct sounds: the first, that of someone scuffling along the ground away from me; the second, footsteps behind. Before I could turn, a powerful beam of light shot across the room. I had a moment to see Joanna, curled up like a filthy, terrified child. Less than a moment really, before I was grabbed from behind and dragged to my feet.
‘Victoria Llewellyn,' said a voice in my ear, as my right arm was
twisted up behind me, ‘I am arresting you for the abduction of Joanna Groves and for the murders of Geraldine Jones, Amanda West, Charlotte Benn and Karen Curtis.'
J
OESBURY WAS ONLY HOLDING ME WITH ONE ARM. I MANAGED to break free, stagger away and twist round to face him. The situation I wouldn't have believed could get worse had just plummeted and what came out of my mouth was little more than a wail.
‘Mark, no—'
‘You do not have to say anything …' Joesbury was striding towards me, torch in one hand, his voice far too loud.
‘Mark, get out of here now.'
‘But it may harm your defence if you do not …'
Could I hear something else? More footsteps? ‘Mark, listen to me, you have no idea—'
‘ … mention when questioned something you later rely on …'
I was backing away.
‘ … in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.'
‘Stop it!'
‘Get down.'
I took another step away. ‘Mark, I'm begging you—'
‘On the ground, now.'
I was frantically looking round. The torch he'd brought was powerful, but there were still too many shadows.
‘I won't ask you again.'
I fell to my knees. ‘Mark, please, just give me one—'
‘I don't want to hear it, Flint,' he said, dropping down behind me
and pushing me down flat. He grabbed first one hand and then the other, being far rougher than he needed. ‘And I really have to stop calling you that,' he said. Then he leaned forward, pressing me harder against the concrete, grazing my face against the rough surface. ‘I've been following you all day, you stupid bitch,' he half spat into my ear. ‘I've known where you were since you ran off this morning. And you know what, I really wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. I waited hours for this other girl to show up, but that was all just bullshit, wasn't it? It was always just you.'
He left me where I was, face-down on concrete. For a second I couldn't move. Then I struggled up on to my knees. The handcuffs behind my back held tight. Joesbury was on his feet, crossing the dark space to where Joanna lay whimpering behind the duct-tape mask. His torch was in one hand, his radio in the other. I watched him try to contact Control, praying he'd do it. Help was what we needed right now. It didn't matter what happened to me any more. Shit, I was probably the only one of the three of us
not
seconds from death.
Joesbury cursed into the radio and replaced it in his pocket. We were too far underground. He crouched down over Joanna and spoke softly to her.
‘You're all right now, love,' he said. ‘Take it easy, let me get this off.'
More whimpering from Joanna. And a harsh cry of pain as the duct tape was pulled off her mouth. Using a small knife not dissimilar to my own, Joesbury cut the tape binding her wrists and ankles. ‘We need to get you out of here,' he said. ‘Can you walk?'
Standing up himself, he pulled her to her feet. She leaned against him for a second, then grabbed his arm and directed the torch back at me, completely dazzling me.
‘It's not her,' I heard her say. ‘She's not the one who brought me here.'
The torch beam fell away. I blinked hard and could see them again. Joanna was holding on to Joesbury with both hands, her eyes shooting from him to me.
‘There's someone else,' she went on. ‘She'll be back any second. She never goes far.'
She couldn't bring herself to step away from Joesbury. She was
like a child clinging to an adult. A child terrified of monsters. Mark looked as though he hadn't understood her. He certainly wasn't reacting fast enough.
‘Get these off me,' I told him, half turning and holding up my handcuffed wrists. The torch was back on my face again.
‘What the …?' he said, sounding lost, miserable and not nearly as scared as he needed to be. ‘Who the fuck
are
you?'
I couldn't answer him. I hardly knew myself. All I knew was that one of us had to get a grip. ‘You need to get these off me and we need to get out of here,' I said. ‘Please tell me you're armed.'
‘She is,' said Joanna. ‘The other one. She has a gun. That's how she got me here.'
Mark stepped forward and clinging Joanna came with him. When they reached me, he pushed her gently away and gave her the torch. Then he found the key for the cuffs in his pocket. ‘Try anything and I will kill you,' he muttered, before the handcuffs sprang free.
‘She's waiting by the main steps,' I said, spotting my own torch and grabbing it. ‘If she hasn't heard anything, we can get out the way we came in.'
‘Who?' he said. ‘Who's she?'
I grabbed his arm, made him look at me. ‘If she appears,' I said, ‘you're the one she'll go for. She'll want me and Joanna alive. You, she'll have to get out of the way as quickly as she can.'
‘Noted. Now get moving.'
We crossed the boiler room, I leading, Joanna following me, Mark at the rear. At the entrance to the gallery, I shone the torch around the dark space. There was something almost cathedral-like about the vast area, now that I could see it. Massive brick archways ran the length of the building, their detail reflected in the water that covered the lower part completely. I turned back to Mark.
‘If we can get across here, we have a good chance,' I said. ‘You should be in the middle.'
He shook his head. ‘Go,' he told me.
I went. Not much more than a hundred feet to travel and we would be back in the horse tunnel. In there, we might get reception on the radio. We'd gone barely twenty feet when music started to play. ‘My Favourite Things'.
First Joanna, then Mark, walked into me.
‘Where's it coming from?' someone asked. I think it must have been me. Neither of the others would know the significance of that particular tune. The music was menacingly soft, but nevertheless bouncing off walls and pillars. It was impossible to tell its origin. I could almost have believed it to be in my own terrified head. Mark was directing his light around the structure, but the space was vast. ‘Behind us, I think,' he muttered, just as the music stopped and a woman's voice took its place.
‘Hello, Lacey,' she said. ‘It's been a long time.'
 
The world seemed to stand still for a second. It was over then. I watched the beam of Mark's torch flashing around the cavern. Then it fixed on a point on the opposite gallery, maybe eighty feet from where we were standing.
‘I thought you'd never get here,' said the voice again, cutting through the darkness, a second before Mark's torch found her. In its beam we saw a slender woman in her mid twenties, with the sweetest face I think I've ever seen. Her hair was chin length and bright blonde; the black crop we'd heard so much about had clearly been a wig. Those eyes would be blue once I got close enough to look at them properly, with tiny flecks of hazel brown. I knew that face almost as well as I knew my own.
At my side, I heard Mark make a soft hissing sound, as he sucked air in through his teeth. ‘Is that her?' he asked.
‘Yes,' I said, without taking my eyes off her. ‘That's Llewellyn.'
‘I've met her before,' he breathed. ‘She's Geraldine Jones's au pair. Stenning actually took her out for a drink.'
She was looking at me now, just me. ‘Raindrops and roses,' she sang. ‘Do you remember, Lacey? That game we used to play?' Then that sweet face broke into a smile. She looked completely relaxed, maybe a little surprised, as though we were two old friends who'd met by chance at a party. Her arms hung loosely by her sides. In her left hand she held something I couldn't quite make out, except it seemed to have a black headband. In her right hand was a small handgun.
‘Let these two go,' I called across the vaults to her. ‘We don't need them any more. It's about us now.'
Her eyes went from me to the man at my side. She seemed to be thinking about what to say next. I risked taking my eyes away from her.
‘Mark, take Joanna and get out of here,' I said to him. ‘She'll let you go.' I looked back at Llewellyn. ‘You will, won't you?' I asked her. ‘Please, just let them go.'
‘I'm not going anywhere,' said Joesbury.
‘I need you both to step to the front of the gallery and drop your torches down into the water,' said Llewellyn.
When neither Joesbury nor I moved, Llewellyn's face screwed up like that of a thwarted child. ‘You have three seconds to lose those torches before I shoot your boyfriend,' she said to me.
‘Do it,' I said, stepping forward and raising my arm.
Joesbury caught hold of my shoulder. ‘Oh, I think you've played enough games with those replica weapons of yours,' he called across to her. ‘And don't imagine I came here alone. There are armed police at every exit, just waiting for my signal to come in.'
Joesbury was so full of shit.
‘Mark,' I said, ‘I really don't think that's a—'
‘Then we're running out of time,' said Llewellyn. ‘Drop the torches now.'
‘Mark, please just do—'
‘Without light, we'll be sitting ducks,' he whispered into my ear.
‘I know this place better than she does,' I replied quietly. ‘I can get us out in the dark. The minute she switches on a light, we'll know where she is. Now drop your torch, take hold of me and then back up to the wall.'
He muttered something that I took as agreement, then first my torch, then his, went over the edge of the gallery. A second later we heard them splashing into water and then all light disappeared from the world. Joesbury's hand was on my shoulder. We backed away from the gallery's edge and I heard him speak softly to Joanna. A few more steps and we were up against the wall. I reached out and found Joanna's hand.
‘Move slowly and stay together,' I said.
‘Wait,' insisted Joanna. ‘She can see in the dark. She has some sort of night-vision equipment. She can still see us.'
A hand was on the back of my neck, pushing my head down. ‘Stay low and move fast.' Joesbury's mouth brushed against my ear. ‘Go now.'
I didn't need telling twice. Bent almost double, one hand keeping contact with the brick wall on my left, the other holding fast to Joanna, I moved as fast as I dared. From the gallery she'd been standing on, Llewellyn couldn't access the horse tunnel. She'd have to head north along the length of the gallery, make her way across the width of the building and into the boiler room where I'd found Joanna. Only then could she follow us down this, the more easterly of the two galleries. If Joanna was right and Llewellyn could see in the dark, she'd be able to move a lot faster than we could. On the other hand, we had a head start.
It was impossible to move at that speed and stay quiet, so we didn't. Three sets of footsteps thumped along the wooden slats, making it impossible to hear if anyone was gaining on us. Somehow, I made myself keep moving when there was nothing but blackness ahead of me. At the end of the gallery I stopped to get my breath back.
‘Get moving,' came Joesbury's voice out of the darkness. Upright again, I turned into the tunnel. Ten feet along it and I had a choice. Turn left and make our way into the vaults of the old goods shed, heading back the way I'd come in, or go straight on and within minutes be at the metal gate that opened on to the towpath. If we could get through it, we'd be safe immediately. If we couldn't, we'd be caught like rats in a pipe.
Too risky. I went left, just as Joesbury tried his radio again. No luck.
The basement of the goods shed was a hundred metres long and the only way to get safely across it in pitch blackness was by following the south wall.
It seemed to take for ever. Realistically, it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. At one point Joanna slipped and fell headlong into a pool of something that smelled vile. When we pulled her out, we had a hard job persuading her to get moving again. Then there was a grunt and a squeal.
‘I've got her,' said Joesbury. ‘Firemen's lift. Let's go.'
I set off again, screamingly slowly, one hand on the wall, the other
on Joesbury's arm. The ground was treacherous in here. Fallen bricks, holes in the concrete, debris scattered around, every step had to be taken with care.
‘Lacey, hold it,' said Joesbury, when I judged we were about ten metres from the next stretch of tunnel. ‘Listen.'
Silence. Then the soft plinking sound of something falling into water.
‘We have to move,' I said.
Silence for another second. The sound of Joanna's breath like tiny sobs. Then, ‘Go on then,' said Joesbury. ‘Slow and quiet. I think we may have company.'
We made it to the next stretch of tunnel. It was less than thirty metres long. I think I actually started to hope. The vaults beneath the forecourt of the interchange warehouse weren't more than the length of my garden at home. There would be light in there. And that jump into the canal was going to feel very good this time.

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