Authors: Nicholas Rhea
‘He’s not on our list of firearms holders, sir, I checked,’ stated Wayne Wain.
‘No, he’s not. But one of the men used for making those films was the secretary of the Crickledale Rifle and Pistol Club, Wayne, and a rifle was used in at least one of the films. I am sure he was, shall we say, persuaded to let the film people use weapons from the club armoury — and then allow himself to be rewarded by favours from attractive girls — and it would not surprise me at all to learn that Dunwoody, who taxied such people around, was able to acquire such a firearm — even that very one — nor that, if we examine the club’s records right now, we should find one .22 weapon missing, but we have no time at this moment.’
‘But, sir, where do we begin? There’s a lot of countryside out there ...’
‘The priory in Priory Wood ... Mrs Purslane mentioned Priory Wood. Remember the two films yet to be made?
Naughtiness
in
the
Nunnery
and
Virgins
in
the
Vaults
or something like that, you said. If the film-makers are planning two more films at the remaining two of Crickledale’s Nine Sights, one must have surely been planned at the old nunnery in Trattledale, Wayne. That being so, consider how easy it must have been for our killer to persuade poor old Moses Nettlewren that he was required there for a filming session, with all the pleasures that promised him, and how easy it would have been to take him there by taxi to be shot. So that Sight has now been used — by the killer, that is.’
‘Point taken, sir, and Priory Woods?’
‘Our superstitious killer will not want a body unburied on a Sunday, so he has decided to kill him and place him in a ready-made grave, Wayne. A vault. You know and I know that there are vaults at the old priory. I have, in the course of my historical researches, examined the vaults in some detail, Wayne, without finding a horse trough, I might add. So what on earth did the monks’ horses drink from? However, I believe Purslane has been tricked into travelling there by taxi, to meet his death and be buried there ...’
‘But it’s Sunday, sir, the place will be overrun with tourists?’
‘Precisely, Wayne,’ said Pluke without elaboration. ‘So we must take due cognisance of that fact.’
With Wayne Wain exercising all his driving skills, they were hurtling towards the old priory in the woods. It was an eight-mile journey, during which Wayne radioed to Control to alert the support services to order them to stand by for a call for assistance with a firearms unit.
‘I do not, repeat not, want the teams to join me yet,’ Pluke ordered, taking the handset from his sergeant to address Control. ‘But be prepared for my call and stand by to rendezvous with me immediately — you could muster close to the priory — because I want Purslane to survive.’
‘And I want to survive ...’ muttered Wayne Wain as he guided the fast-moving car with all his expertise towards the villainous vaults.
‘The Crickledale vaults’, said Detective Inspector Montague Pluke as Detective Sergeant Wain eased to a halt in the car-park of Priory Woods, ‘are unique in this country, Wayne. Their design is based on the nave of St Ambrogio at Milan, which was one of the earliest completely ribbed vaults and dates from the eleventh century. The local vaults extend over a huge area, far larger than the ground floor of York Minster, although only a tiny portion is open to the public. The Norman design, which you can see in some of our abbeys, was based on this style ...’
‘Are you saying these vaults date from Norman times, sir?’
‘No, Wayne, our vaults are copies of those in Milan which means they are later, but they are most unusual, more so because they are on the North York Moors. Our vaults are believed to have been built in the fourteenth century and the records show that a certain Erasmus Pluke helped with the construction. He was a lay worker at the priory, the prior being Father Jerome from Rome, hence the Italian connection. But, in this case, the Crickledale vaults are of further interest because they are underground and used for the storage of coffins and contents — did you realise that the body of St Teilo of Penally is said to be buried here? I am sure our Welsh friends do not know that. Now, Wayne, the vaults in our cathedrals and abbeys are above ground and do not contain coffins, which makes ours of such importance and interest.’
‘So where will Dunwoody be?’ Wayne was getting anxious. Pluke seemed to be acting as if he was on a walking tour rather than in pursuit of an alleged armed murderer.
‘We are about to enter via the tourists’ gate,’ said Pluke, who was now standing beside their vehicle. ‘You pay, Wayne, and recover the money through expenses. We will descend the staircase into the vaults ...’
‘Sir, we need to plan carefully ... Dunwoody must know we are on to him.’
‘I am sure he does not, Wayne. I am sure he has never given that a thought.’
‘But we do need back-up, sir! Dunwoody is thought to be armed.’
‘He will not enter the vaults via this route, Wayne. He would never bring his intended victim into the vaults through the entrance used by the general public, that would be rank stupidity; besides, it means he would meet others on the staircase, and it is very unlucky to cross on the stairs. Dunwoody will use the other entrance, Wayne, the one that is never used by tourists or paying visitors to the vaults. It lies at the northern boundary, Wayne, an extra drive of some six or seven miles, followed by a long walk across three fields. It is well off the beaten track.’
‘I had no idea there was another entrance, sir.’
‘Few people do know, Wayne. But I know, being interested in local history, and so do many of the local people, especially boys who have played here for generations, getting into mischief, like Dunwoody ... the door has never been locked either. There is simply a massive wooden door studded with metal, which is almost hidden behind centuries of thickening vegetation.’
‘So what is our plan, sir?’
‘We shall enter the vaults by the tourist route, Wayne, then await the arrival of our suspect. And I shall take the precaution of being accompanied by an armed officer. Now, do these radios work from underground?’ Pluke held up a personal radio set for Wayne to examine.
‘Yes, they even work underwater, sir.’
‘That is very useful if the fish pond above the vaults is ever replenished, Wayne. Now, where are our back-up teams?’
Using his own personal radio, Wayne Wain contacted Sergeant Cockfield pronounced Cofield in the Control Room and was told that the support services, including an armed response unit, had assembled and were awaiting Pluke’s instructions. Two units were within two minutes’ drive of the priory. Without using a map as his reference, Pluke then issued orders to Sergeant Cockfield pronounced Cofield and instructed one unit of two officers to proceed to a specified map reference which he provided from memory, to report sightings of Dunwoody’s taxi but not to approach it and then to prepare to enter the vaults upon the command of Pluke. That unit comprised one armed constable and one unarmed. A second team, of like composition, was to report to the main entrance of the vaults, there to rendezvous with Pluke and Wain. Pluke said he would close the place to the public, but only when his quarry had entered. Of the remaining supporting officers, numbering a dozen, half were to rendezvous at the main car-park to deal with any eventuality that might arise, with the other half at the northern entrance to do likewise.
‘Now, let us proceed,’ said Pluke to his sergeant as he strode from the car-park towards the turnstile.
‘Shouldn’t our officers pick him off before he gets here, sir?’
‘Left to his own devices, he will not kill Purslane until he is inside the vaults, Wayne. It’s a question of disposal of the body you see, and of his own beliefs. He needs to be sure he has disposed of the corpse, so he must kill Purslane deep inside the vaults. If we harass him and make our presence known before he gets into the vaults, though, he might be panicked into killing Purslane and even others ... I cannot risk that. Terrible though it might sound, we might have to sacrifice Purslane in order to save further lives, Wayne.’
‘So the map reference you have just given is the rear approach?’
‘Yes, by the time our officers arrive at that point, Dunwoody will have departed for the long walk across the fields. His car will be there ... that will be a sign that we know for certain what he is about to do.’
‘You seem very sure about things, sir.’
‘I know Dunwoody, Wayne, and I know how he will react. Local knowledge you see, it’s very important in a police officer. And I know my way around these vaults — as indeed does he. Do you know that it is unlucky to step across a grave?’
‘I heard my mother say that a long time ago when we went to put flowers on my granny’s grave ...’
‘Now, Wayne, the floor of the vaults, in both the public and private portions, is full of graves. The walls of the vault, however, contain lead coffins, stacked high on shelves rather like a wine cellar and dating back centuries. None the less, there are one or two empty places, Wayne. Very handy for leaving a corpse. As you’d find in a church, there are graves in the floor which are covered with huge stone and marble memorials laid flat upon them. There is a route between them, Wayne. It’s almost like a maze, but Dunwoody will take that route. He will not want to step over a grave. But because it is unlucky to pass a dead body which is lying on the ground, he will take his victim to the deepest part of the vaults, so that he can kill him and return the way he came, without passing the corpse he has just created. I do not think he will be giving deep thought to his plans: his reactions will be instinctive, due to his beliefs. It is dark down there and that section is not, and never has been, open to the public. He will know that the chances of anyone finding the corpse are remote in the extreme; he could even lock the door, I suppose, to keep wanderers out. If children found a body down there, I wonder if they would report it?’
‘But can we get into that enclosed part of the vaults, sir?’
‘Indeed we can, Wayne, and we can do it from the public area. I know the way, I have used it many times in my research, and I shall take one of the firearms officers. First, though, we must close the vaults to the general public; Dunwoody will never know what is going on at this end, he is too far away.’
Calmly, Montague Pluke asked the man at the turnstile to close the vaults until further notice, due to a vital police operation within them, and to clear the place of those visitors already there. As this was happening, PC Dave Horne of the firearms response unit (FRU) arrived, complete with a rifle that looked like a machine-gun, and was briefed by Pluke. He was clad in a smart navy-blue uniform sweater and beret. A radio check with his colleague, PC Kev Hatfield, revealed that Dunwoody’s taxi had been observed; it was parked empty at the edge of the priory grounds on the northern boundary, adjacent to a footpath which led across several meadows.
‘There is no time to lose,’ said Pluke, leading the way.
Leaving a uniformed member of the support team to prevent anyone entering the vaults via the public route, Montague Pluke led his team of two into the well-lit depths, his actions being observed by the assembled tourists. Word would soon spread that something sinister was happening in the vaults. Leading into the depths was a modern stone staircase with a metal rail at each side and another running down the middle to provide both an Up and a Down route. Pluke walked on to the first step, leading with his right foot, and opted for the right-hand route. All the visitors had now left, Wayne Wain noting that no one was ascending to thwart the good fortune that his boss would require. The interior below ground was brightly illuminated and the visitors’ route around the vaults, with a variety of lead, oak and stone coffins on view, was marked with chromium-plated rails and arrows pointing ‘This Way. Please Keep to the Official Route. Do Not Touch the Exhibits.’
‘The section to which we are heading will be in darkness,’ Pluke told Wayne and Dave. ‘I have a torch.’
‘Are you sure you know what you are doing, sir?’ asked Dave Horne with just a hint of nervousness, producing a torch of his own from the kit he carried on his belt. It was like a miner’s light.
He clipped it around his head, the lead reaching down to the battery in his kit.
‘Completely,’ said Pluke, upon which Wain nodded his head briefly to the constable, to indicate his own faith in Montague Pluke. ‘We shall reach a point in the other section, PC Horne, where we can conceal ourselves. Dunwoody will bring his victim to a position from which he will intend to carry out his execution — I know precisely where that will be because his choice is limited to that place. We will announce our presence and you will order him to lay down his arms and submit to arrest. If he runs away, your colleague will be outside, also armed. The secret door into the vaults will be standing open — Dunwoody will make sure he leaves it open. It is a custom at the moment of death to throw open the door, you see, and Dunwoody will make sure that is done, so that the soul of his victim is able to depart without hindrance. Wayne, perhaps you will radio for the support units at Dunwoody’s car to move across the fields towards the rear entrance.’ And he provided the map reference. ‘But ask them not to make a noise and not to enter the vaults. Their duty is to arrest Dunwoody if he attempts to flee, bearing in mind he is armed. He will exit via the route he used for entry. If, on the other hand, he does attempt to flee or hide below ground, then we shall shout “Ten Nine, Ten Nine” upon our radio sets and at that signal they should enter the vaults, albeit in the knowledge that they are likely to confront an armed intruder. Otherwise, radio silence will be enforced. Now, let us proceed.’
Following Pluke, Wayne Wain radioed his instructions to the outside teams. Then Pluke halted, placed a finger upon his lips to indicate the need for silence and stepped over the chromium rail.
He appeared to be walking into a dark comer, but produced his miniature torch and shone it on the ground for his companions. It could now be seen in the dim light that the corner was shaped like a double ‘Z’ and that there was an exit.
After a trek of some fifteen paces, Pluke halted. ‘We are now in the disused section of the vaults,’ he whispered. ‘These are far more extensive than the public area; we need to move to a position which is some fifty paces from here. Keep very quiet and listen for the sound of Dunwoody’s approach. We shall hear him long before he becomes aware of our presence ...’
In total silence and in darkness broken only by the beam from Pluke’s tiny torch, they moved through the high ranks of ancient coffins until Pluke halted.
‘PC Horne, for reasons I explained earlier to Detective Sergeant Wain,’ whispered Pluke, ‘Dunwoody will come to this point.’ And he shone his beam on to the floor. ‘He will want to kill his victim so that the body either falls, or is easily moved, into that space directly ahead.’ And he shone his torch on to the bare stone floor; it was a narrow gap between the tiers of coffins and the rock wall of the vault. There was just room for an adult human to be laid there. ‘The chances of anyone finding the deceased before his body turns to dust are remote in the extreme,’ continued Pluke. ‘The perfect hiding place for a corpse, in other words, especially if it is covered in some way ...’ And he switched off his torch.
‘Purslane would never come here voluntarily,’ muttered Wayne Wain in the darkness, thinking of the supposed birdwatching expedition.
‘At this stage, he will be at gunpoint, Wayne,’ Pluke reminded him. ‘Now, PC Horne, your role is vital, so where do you wish to position yourself?’
PC Horne, highly trained, used his own powerful light to examine the inlet routes and other factors, before determining a suitable position. ‘I’ll be fine here, sir. I can protect the victim, cover the assailant and watch the exit route ...’
And then they heard noises. Voices. Footsteps. A harsh, domineering voice echoing in the distant darkness. Each switched off his light.
‘Total silence, total darkness,’ whispered Pluke. ‘Radio silence.’
At first, the words were indistinct but soon they could hear a male voice ordering, ‘Keep going ... down there ... no fooling about, Sam ... I’m right behind you with the gun ...’
‘But George, I don’t understand ...’
‘You don’t have to, not any more. You know too much, you have got to go, Sam, sorry but I can’t risk you being alive ...’