Chapter 47
GRAHAM
Graham parks the car in front of the wooden farm gate of Blackberry Farm. It’s locked with a chain and padlock, heavy duty, so he and Stephen climb over it, then walk through the yard towards the barns.
‘No police presence, so I’m assuming word hasn’t got out that he really is dead yet,’ says Graham.
Stephen holds up the drawing of the barn. ‘There are a lot of barns here,’ he says. ‘The grid reference is roughly over there.’ Stephen points to the other side where there are several buildings.
Graham scans the yard and checks the drawing in Stephen’s hands, scanning the outlines. ‘If these were drawn a hundred years ago by John Hammel, then it’s safe to say that a lot will have changed since then. The original structure may not even be here.’
‘Then there must be another way to access the underground bunker. She’s here, I just know it,’ says Stephen.
‘How about we search each barn in turn?’
‘I think that’s as good a plan as any. I don’t think these drawings are going to be of much help anymore, but the grid reference will at least narrow down our search area.’
Graham sighs, realising it was never going to be as simple as following a map, and takes a step, but as he does, a dog growls nearby. He puts his hand out, stopping Stephen in his tracks. ‘Stand perfectly still.’
The old dog rushes forwards, barking hysterically, baring his teeth, hackles up. Graham shows his palms, revealing he’s no throat, keeps his tone of voice low, calm as he talks. ‘There, there, Barney. Remember us? There’s a good dog.’
‘I’m not sure the dog understands English,’ replies Stephen.
Graham ignores his ignorance, slowly bending level with the dog who has now moved on to creeping forwards, nose twitching to sniff his outstretched hand.
Graham holds his breath as Barney seems to wrestle with his basic instincts to protect his home.
He eventually gives Graham’s fingers a lick and allows him to tickle his neck.
‘There, you see,’ says Graham. ‘A kind voice and a bit of trust goes a long way.’
‘Hmm,’ says Stephen.
They approach the first barn, but both stop when Barney starts barking again. Graham spins to face him, expecting to start placating him again, but Barney runs away to the far end of the yard. Stops. Then barks again.
‘Why, I do believe our new friend wants us to follow him,’ says Stephen, leading the way.
Barney leads them to a small barn tucked behind the largest one. It’s a solid structure, but not big enough to store farm equipment or anything larger than a car. Graham reaches for the door handle, but finds it locked, bolted with another padlock.
Stephen steps past him. ‘Allow me.’ He crouches, his face level with the padlock, then reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small leather case, roughly the size of a pencil case.
Graham watches silently as Stephen slides a thin metal stick into the keyhole of the padlock.
‘You continue to surprise me, Mr Mallow.’
‘What happened to Stephen?’
‘What indeed. I never took you for a lock picker.’
‘It’s one of my lesser-known skills.’
It takes less than two minutes for Stephen to get the door open. Barney whines and rushes through the door, scurrying behind a stack of boxes.
Following him, Graham steps into the small building. He searches for a light switch, but there’s not one he can see. Stephen pulls out his phone and switches on the torch function. The outside light is fading fast.
There are several boxes, along with a lawn mower in the far corner.
There’s also a small table with a radio resting on it, along with a microphone.
In the middle of the one-room building is a clear space with an old, tattered, circular rug in the centre.
Barney reappears from behind the boxes and starts scrabbling at the rug, pawing and whining.
Graham and Stephen move as one, grasping the edges of the rug and dragging it along the dusty, concrete floor. Barney hops out of the way, then returns to the centre.
Stephen directs the beam of light onto the floor where Barney is furiously digging.
‘Well, well, well,’ says Graham. ‘Time for you to use those lock-picking skills again.’
He looks down at the fairly new-looking wooden trapdoor in the floor of the building.