They were secured by a padlock.
As he’d expected.
A rusted metal chain had been wound round the door handles, too.
Rusted.
Like the door knobs on the smaller doors at the side and rear of the building.
Rusted.
It hadn’t struck him until he’d passed the padlock for the second time.
The lock itself was brand new.
No rust. No discoloration.
And there was something else.
Talbot saw marks in the dirt and grime that covered the doors.
Particularly at the bottom.
The doors were scratched.
He ran the pad of one thumb over the marks and felt rough edges.
A new padlock.
Scratch marks on the door.
The DI kneeled beside the locked entrance, now certain his hunch was correct.
These doors had been prised open recently and a new lock placed on them to keep them closed.
Someone had been inside here.
He turned and looked around, noticing that the concrete pathway surrounding the warehouse was cracked and broken in several places. He kneeled again, pulling at a chunk of concrete about the size of his fist.
It came free easily, woodlice scuttling for cover as the stone was lifted.
Gripping the stone like a club, Talbot turned towards the new padlock and struck it hard several times.
The padlock held, despite his efforts.
He struck again.
Still it held.
And again.
It was the chain that eventually broke.
The rusted links seemed to stretch, then snap, pieces of rotten metal spinning into the air like shrapnel.
The chain swung free, the padlock dropped to the ground.
Talbot smiled to himself and dropped the rock, digging into his pocket for a handkerchief which he wrapped around his fist. Then he took hold of the door
handle and pushed.
The twin doors squealed protestingly then opened a fraction.
An almost overpowering stench of damp and decay belched forth, the dust so thick Talbot was forced to shield his nose and mouth from the noxious blast.
He paused a moment, squinting into the gloom inside, then cautiously he took a step inside, pushing the doors closed behind him.
The rancid half-light swallowed him up.
For a second he wondered where the yellowish light was coming from, then he realised.
There were four large skylight windows in the roof of the cavernous building, covered, like every inch of glass in the place, by thick dirt and grime.
The daylight could barely force its way through, but the filth allowed enough illumination for Talbot to see where he was going. He narrowed his eyes, trying to accustom his vision to the artificial twilight.
As he stood there he realised how large the warehouse actually was.
For interminable seconds he stood there, the thick dust and the stench of decay filling his nostrils, his eyes struggling to adjust.
He sneezed, the dust choking him.
He raised the handkerchief to his face, breathing through the cotton.
It was as he glanced down at the concrete floor that he thought he saw movement.
A rat?
He shook his head and took a couple of steps forward, the dust so thick it clung to his shoes.
High above him there was a soft pattering sound.
Like what?
Like tiny feet?
More rats?
It was only to be expected, surely? The place had been derelict for years and with it being so close to the riverside it was bound to attract vermin.
Again he heard the soft pattering above him.
He realised it was rain against the skylight windows.
Soft, gentle drops.
Talbot took another few steps forward then sucked in a polluted breath.
What he saw ahead of him stopped him in his tracks.
Sixty-eight
Frank Reed smiled broadly as he watched Judith Nelson light her cigarette.
The gym mistress noticed his obvious amusement and smiled back, not even sure why he was smiling. She swept her hair back and took a long drag on the Embassy.
‘What are you laughing at?’ she said with mock indignation, prodding Reed’s leg with the toe of one of her trainers.
‘You’re a great example to your pupils, Judith,’ he said, chuckling. ‘A physical education teacher smoking.’
‘You’re not going to lecture me, are you, Frank?’
‘What, me? God forbid,’ he said, grinning. ‘But, you know the risks.’
‘Yes, and, as the man said, non-smokers die everyday. You don’t smoke. You’re dead too.’
They both laughed.
‘How did your weekend go?’ she asked him, finally.
‘It was fantastic’ Reed answered, ‘to have Becky around again, even if it was only for two days. We went to McDonald’s, I took her swimming, we went to the pictures. That was the first time I’d been for months.’ He smiled wistfully.
‘It was like being a proper father again.’
‘You never stopped being a proper father, Frank. It wasn’t your fault your wife took Becky away from you.’
‘Sometimes I wonder about that. I wonder if there was more I could have done to stop her.’
‘Like what? Kidnap Becky back again?’
‘It was great having her with me for the weekend, but now she’s gone again it
hurts even more.’ He lowered his gaze momentarily.
‘Is it going to be a regular thing?’
‘Ellen and I haven’t discussed it yet but, God, I hope so.’ He began picking distractedly at the arm of the chair, pulling away loose pieces of thread.
‘Perhaps she’s come to her senses at last,’ Judith offered. ‘She probably realises she can’t keep Becky away from you forever.’
‘I don’t know what she’s thinking anymore, I…’
Judith leaned forward and touched his arm gently. ‘It’ll be OK, Frank’ she reassured him. ‘You haven’t lost Becky.’
He smiled at her.
Reed got to his feet and picked up his briefcase.
‘I’m going home’ he said, smiling, glancing around the staff room.
Judith took another drag on her cigarette and nodded, watching him as he made for the exit.
The playground was empty as Reed crossed it, heading for his car which was parked behind one of the newer blocks. There were a number of vehicles still parked there including a large Triumph 750 which he knew belonged to one of the sixth-formers. The lad made a point of parking it close to Noel Hardy’s car because he knew it irritated the Headmaster. The fact that the owner of the bike was also going out with a fifth-year girl seemed to annoy Hardy even more.
Reed crossed to his own car, fumbling in his jacket for the keys, whistling happily to himself as he slid the key into the door lock.
Perhaps Becky’s visits would become a regular thing.
Even the thought of her cheered him.
Two days a week was better than nothing.
He never even heard the footsteps from behind him.
Just the voice.
‘Mr Reed?’
He turned and saw the two uniformed policemen no more than three feet from him.
‘Frank Reed?’ the one on the left said.
The teacher nodded.
He looked past the two men, saw the marked car sitting there, engine idling.
There was a third man behind the wheel.
His first thought was of Becky.
An accident?
‘What’s happened?’ he asked anxiously.
‘We need to ask you some questions, Mr Reed,’ said one of the policemen, a tall man with reddish hair. ‘About your daughter.’
‘Oh God, what’s happened?’ he demanded, the colour draining from his cheeks.
‘That’s what we need to find out,’ said the red-haired PC.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘We’d like you to follow us to Theobald’s Road Police Station. My colleague will sit with you.’