Authors: Tom Bale
Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Crime, #Spies & Politics, #Conspiracies, #Crime Fiction
‘I’m not gonna come right out and say it, am I? Gotta be worth a few quid to you. In fact, I know it is.’ He laughed again: not a chuckle, but a cackle. A man in his late fifties or sixties, Leon thought. A hard-lived life.
‘I’m willing to pay for the information,’ Leon said. ‘How much exactly depends on what you have. A lot of bullshitters out there, and right now I think you’re one of them.’
‘Oh no, Mr Race. What I have is
solid fuckin’ gold
.’
The phrase came out thin and wheezy. Leon pictured somebody scrawny, unhealthy, with a sly look in his eyes. But the enthusiasm wasn’t faked: the man truly believed he had something valuable.
‘Give me a flavour, then we’ll talk terms.’
‘First, you tell me this. The geezer in the photo – you’ve got him, have you? In your custody, so to speak?’
Leon started to reply, saw Fenton frantically shaking his head. He covered the phone and mouthed: ‘What?’
Pressing his own handset into the folds of his belly, Fenton hissed: ‘If you tell him where Joe is, he could cut us out of the deal.’
Good point. Leon felt a rush of intense hatred for the man on the other end of the line.
‘You’re pissing me about,’ he growled. He put the phone down and gestured at Fenton to disconnect as well.
‘Was that wise?’
Leon shrugged, but his left leg was juddering with excitement. They were on to something.
‘He’ll call back.’
‘What if he doesn’t?’
‘He will.’ Leon rubbed his hands together. ‘Accentuate the positive, remember?’
The cavern was an extraordinary sight: almost disturbing in its sense of otherness. It reminded Joe of how he’d felt, years ago, when he’d discovered a wasps’ nest in his attic, perfectly and painstakingly constructed from scraps of newspaper. The awe he’d experienced at witnessing an essentially alien intelligence at work was replicated here.
The main cavern was rectangular, about twenty feet by ten, with three other arched doorways leading to what appeared to be smaller chambers. The roof of the cavern was dome-shaped, narrowing towards a central funnel which fed a soft ethereal light into the room.
The domed roof and the floor were fashioned from bare rock, but the walls, every square inch of them, were adorned with shells. Millions of shells in a variety of sizes, shapes and colours, placed with the utmost care and precision, to astonishing effect.
They were arranged in large rectangular panels. As Joe’s eyes became accustomed to the sight, he started to discern shapes and symbols within the panels. Various animals were depicted, in styles reminiscent of Egyptian, Greek and Phoenician art; there were phallic symbols and trees of life and ancient gods and goddesses. But the location and the form continued to speak of an otherworldly culture.
‘Who created this?’
‘Nobody knows.’
‘You’re kidding?’
Ellie laughed softly, the sound echoing around them. Realising they were alone down here made Joe feel even more privileged.
‘The whole thing is a mystery. Nobody has a clue who made it, or when, or why.’
‘I can’t believe I’ve never heard of it before.’
‘I’m glad, in a way. I don’t want to see it overrun, or Disneyfied. It’s too precious.’ She followed him as he moved from panel to panel. ‘It would have looked even more spectacular when it was created. The colours have faded a lot over the centuries.’
‘So what’s the history? How many centuries?’
‘It’s anyone’s guess. This wasn’t discovered until 1835. There are caves and tunnels all round here. It was smugglers who found this. They broke through one of the antechambers and then excavated up through the dome. The hole at the top had been plugged by earth and rock. Now it’s covered with perspex.’
She gestured at the walls. ‘There’s said to be over four million shells here. Even with a team of people, you’re talking about a huge task: excavating the cavern, shaping it, then meticulously gathering and transporting the shells here. And they had to be stuck to the wall while they were alive, apparently. But prior to the discovery there wasn’t a single clue to its existence. No gossip, no local legends, nothing.’
Joe shook his head. ‘That doesn’t make sense. Can’t they test the shells?’
‘They tried carbon dating, but the Victorian lamps have coated everything in soot, so the results were meaningless.’ She laughed again, with a child’s delight. ‘Scientists analysed the glue and drew a blank. It contains elements that can’t be identified. They just don’t know how it was done.’
With a sigh of rapture, Ellie gazed at the column of light in the centre of the room. ‘We could be standing in a temple that pre-dates Stonehenge or Avebury. Built by a civilisation we know absolutely nothing about.’
Joe grinned. This was an utterly different Ellie, brimming with
infectious enthusiasm and light years from the cool, acerbic persona he’d encountered before.
Slowly they explored the cavern. One of the antechambers had an alcove with what looked like an altar set into it. Ellie explained some of the theories about the sort of worship that might have been conducted here. One involved a solar calendar, with certain panels illuminated on the spring equinox and summer solstice.
‘But it’s all guesswork. They used radar on the walls and found hollow spaces behind the panels. But no one can countenance breaking through to find out what’s in there.’ Wistful for a moment, she smiled. ‘I’m really glad you feel it too. The sense of wonder.’
‘I don’t see how you could fail to.’
‘Oh, I know people who’d see this and think: a cave full of shells – so what?’ She snorted at some private recollection. ‘For me, this is a reminder that we don’t have all the answers.’
‘I’ve never been in any doubt about that.’
‘Not you specifically. Human beings. We assume we’re smarter than the people who went before us, because they lived in caves and wore animal skins, and we have central heating and iPads and hedge funds. The fact is, we don’t have a clue what other civilisations might have flourished, thousands of years before us, and thrived to an extent we can only dream of. The people who built this might have been incredibly advanced, running happy, sustainable communities where people were healthy and looked after each other, worked hard but also had plenty of leisure time. To me, the Shell Cavern is like a hint, a clue to what our shiny modern world has lost.’
Ellie signalled the end of her speech with an awkward shrug.
Joe smiled. ‘Phew.’
‘Is that all you can say?’
‘It’s a very persuasive argument. But I would maintain that human beings are basically the same now as they’ve been for millennia. Some brilliant, inventive, compassionate; others mean and selfish and cruel.
The essential struggle is between those opposing forces. Sometimes those forces exist within the same person.’
Energised by the debate, Ellie briefly rested her hand on his arm. ‘Ah, but I’m an optimist, you see. I choose to believe that the ideal society can be achieved.’
Joe thought of Giles Quinton-Price, all set to proclaim that Leon Race had succeeded where many others had failed; never mind the methods by which that success had been achieved. He shivered.
‘There are people who think Trelennan is pretty close to perfect.’
‘They’re wrong,’ Ellie said. ‘In fact, they couldn’t be further from the truth.’
‘Really?’ He felt very cold. Had the lights just flickered, or was it his vision playing up?
The magnificence of the shells had caused him to forget where he was. Now he imagined the stone walls closing in on him, the weight of all that earth and rock pressing down, a voice in his head screaming:
You’re in a cave. You’re trapped
.
Ellie was talking. Joe had to make a physical effort to tune in: ‘… easier to make things look fine on the surface. I shouldn’t say that, but it’s true.’
She had drifted away a little, and when she turned back her lips were still moving but he couldn’t hear a word over the sudden roaring in his ears. The light was wrong, too, brighter for a moment, then rapidly dimming. The floor tilted and he stumbled and then it went completely dark.
Thirty-Five
LESS THAN FIVE
minutes till the phone rang again. Leon picked it up but said nothing.
‘Mr Race? I don’t want to be wasting my time here. The fact is, I know a lot more than just
who
he is. But if you don’t have him, it’s hardly worth my while—’
‘I know where he can be found.’ Leon’s voice was like flint. ‘I also know he’s on the run.’
A hesitation at the other end.
Stolen your thunder
, Leon thought. Then came the wheezy laugh.
‘But who from? That’s the nub. Who from, eh?’ The man let the question hang for a couple of seconds. ‘What are you going to offer me?’
‘Ten grand,’ Leon said. ‘Paid once we know the information’s good.’
‘Make it a hundred thousand, and you’re still getting a bargain. Cash, in used notes.’
Leon looked at Fenton, who was tight-lipped, shaking his head. Fat lot of use, Leon thought.
He said, ‘Why don’t we meet up, discuss this face to face?’
‘Hmm. I gotta think about that. Trouble is, Mr Race, I don’t trust you.’ Cackling, he rang off.
Leon threw the handset down in disgust. ‘Wanker.’
‘We know him,’ Fenton said.
‘What?’
‘His voice is familiar. That’s why he’s being so cagey. We know him from somewhere.’
Leon made a growling noise: neither agreeing nor disagreeing. ‘If he’s stringing me along, he’s fucking dead.’ He thought for a moment, shook his head. ‘Nah. He’s a dead man, anyway, talking to me like that.’
Danny Morton was hunting him, or was it Leon Race? Now they had him cornered, underground, in the dark. The roaring noise must be the river. He pictured the cave, inundated with water, and felt panic crushing his chest. Someone cried out and he realised he wasn’t alone down here
—
Joe’s eyes opened. He was sitting on the stone floor of the cavern. Ellie knelt at his side, one hand on his brow, the other feeling for a pulse.
‘I’m okay. I’m okay.’ He tried to get up but she held him back.
‘Just rest for a minute.’ She looked mortified. ‘I’m so sorry. You told me you had a problem with confined spaces, and I didn’t take it seriously.’
‘I’m not sure if it was that.’ Joe blinked a few times, chasing the nightmare into shadows. ‘I don’t know
what
it was.’
‘We’d better go.’
Ignoring his protests that he could stand unaided, she helped him up, making him feel feeble and embarrassed. His head spun a little, but otherwise there seemed to be no after-effects.
Maybe it had been claustrophobia, or a panic attack. But why hadn’t it affected him sooner? As they slowly climbed the steps, Ellie put forward an explanation.
‘It was me, waffling on. You got so bored you keeled over. Wouldn’t be the first time I had that effect on a man.’
Joe chuckled. ‘I was very impressed. I saw a whole different side of you.’ She looked blank, and he added: ‘You weren’t taking the piss out of everything.’
‘Actually, you’re right. That
is
a bit worrying …’
They left the visitor centre and strolled along the path. The rain had stopped, but low cloud still clung to the hillside. Joe was thinking back over the conversation they’d had: perfect societies. The contrast between the surface appearance and the reality beneath.
‘I met Leon Race yesterday,’ he told her. ‘He’s offered me some casual work.’
‘Wow. I wasn’t expecting that. So what did you make of him?’
‘I’m reserving judgement on that for now. But I’ve accepted the offer.’
‘And how did your landlady react to the news?’
Now it was Joe’s turn to be surprised. ‘She seemed okay with it. Why?’
‘Nothing.’ Ellie concentrated on her bag, hunting for her keys.
‘Are Leon and Diana enemies?’
‘Oh no. It’s not that.’ She felt his gaze, saw he wasn’t going to let the subject drop. ‘I don’t think Leon was all that keen on Diana’s husband. Ancient history now.’
‘Maybe, but I’d like to know. Roy was a good friend of mine. A mentor, really.’
A small smile from Ellie. ‘You’re a policeman?’
‘I was. I left a few years ago. Why the amusement?’
‘It explains a few things. Like why you’re itching to help search for Alise’s sister.’
Joe couldn’t deny it. Nodding, he said, ‘So what about Leon and Roy …?’
‘When Roy and Diana moved here Leon hadn’t been in business for long, but his reputation was already well established. You didn’t cross him. I suppose Roy, as a retired copper, didn’t take kindly to that.’
‘Knowing Roy, that doesn’t surprise me. Did he make trouble for Leon?’
‘Possibly. I honestly don’t know.’
Joe frowned. ‘You’re saying there was this bad feeling, and yet Diana told me that her new boyfriend works for Leon.’
‘Hardly new,’ Ellie said, the familiar sarcasm back in place. ‘They’ve been together for years.’
‘Have they? I got the impression it was fairly recent.’
Ellie shook her head, correcting his assumption while also dismissing the subject.
‘Let’s talk about the mess you’re getting into. Off to work for Leon Race, and at the same time you’re clearly on Alise’s side. You know that’s asking for trouble?’ She looked deep into his eyes. ‘You don’t mind that at all, do you? In fact, I suspect you welcome it.’
Joe smiled. ‘Are you always this perceptive?’
‘Sadly, no.’ Her sudden bitterness caught him unawares. ‘But I’m working on it.’
He declined her offer of a lift home, said he had some shopping to do. When they exchanged mobile numbers, Ellie muttered, ‘Not that you’ll be in any hurry to see me again after this.’
‘Don’t be too sure. I choose the venue, though?’
‘Above ground, presumably?’
‘Definitely. No more caves for a while.’
Then an awkward moment, neither of them sure whether to kiss, shake hands, or refrain from contact altogether. Ellie decided for them by turning away. Joe started to walk, raising a hand in farewell as she drove past, and reflected on the wisdom she had shown.