Page 94 of The Accomplice
Deathwatch beetles had all but destroyed the roof. He could see them, especially at night, like little black raindrops running over the old oak. Thousands of them.
He approached the covered pit. Tapped on the steel plate with the toe of his boot.
Listened.
He could hear her down there. Her breath, quick with fear. And something else. Her feet, moving.
She had gotten free of the chair. He expected as much.
From his bag he produced a bottle of water, a pastrami sandwich and a few candy bars. She would be hungry about now. Thirsty too.
He deepened his voice. Dropping it an octave. It helped when he was working. People responded to commanding tones.
‘I’m going to give you some food and water. If you try to climb out, I will hurt you. Do you understand, Kate ?’
After a short pause he heard her voice. The strange echo of it, distorted by the close concrete walls and steel enclosing the pit.
‘Yes.’
He had left a gap between the pit edge and the plate. It was tiny, maybe only an eighth of an inch. Large enough to let air through, but not wide enough to allow anyone to get a pinkie finger out of that pit. First thing was to move the trolley. He stepped onto the plate, and with some effort, rolled the heavy iron trolley onto the floor. It was easy enough to move once you got it started, but getting it started took some doing. Each of the trolley’s four wheels had its own symphony of rusty squeaks and squeals as they moved.
A long steel bar with a hook on the end lay on the ground. He picked it up, wedged the flathead end of it into the gap and started to work it back and forth. Soon as he had a gap wide enough, he stuck the bar down further into the gap, then used it as leverage, pulling down on the bar. The plate screeched and scraped against the concrete as it moved back a few inches.
He leaned the bar against a pillar, dropped the water, sandwich and candy into the dark pit. He couldn’t see her in there. She was probably hiding in the opposite corner. No point in tempting her with thoughts of escape. He picked up the bar, swiveled it so the hook was pointing to the floor, and managed to attach it to the catch that was countersunk into the plate. Then it was easy enough to walk backwards, yanking the plate to get it moving at first and then pulling until it covered the pit.
Dropping the bar, he moved to the trolley and got it back into the middle of the plate.
No way anyone could get out of there now. Not with that extra weight on top.
He’d left a slightly wider gap than before. About an inch.
The Sandman sunk down, balancing on the balls of his feet, his elbows on his knees, fingers locked together.
‘I told Flynn I would let you go if he got an acquittal for Carrie.’
No response.
‘It went well today, by all accounts. He’s good, Flynn. Very good. He just needed the right incentive. Case should be wrapped up by tomorrow.’
Silence.
‘Carrie should come out of hiding when the case is over, don’t you think ? After all, she needs me.’
He waited this time for a reply. None came.
‘Are you scared ?’ he asked.
Kate didn’t say anything, but he heard her. A soft whimper. Then …
‘I’m scared. Carrie is scared too. She’s scared of you,’ said Kate, her voice echoing in the pit, amplified by the space and the steel roof.
The Sandman drew his blade from the leather sheath strapped to his lower back.
‘I know I told Flynn I’d let you go if he won …’
Rolling his wrist, he tossed the handle, flipping the blade in the air, catching it expertly.
‘I meant it. If he wins Carrie’s case I’ll let you go. Whether you walk out of here with both of your eyes is up to you.’
