Death on the Downs

Forty-Eight

Suddenly, mercifully, the rope was released.

There were sounds of confusion, shouting, possibly fighting, from outside. Then the entrance to the cave was once again darkened by a human body.

And Carole heard the most welcome sound of her life. It was the anxious voice of Ted Crisp asking, “Are you all right, Carole? I’ll kill the bastard if he’s hurt you.”

She felt Ted’s strong arms helping her out and, once she was upright, fell into them. His body felt huge and wonderfully solid.

It was still just light at the foot of the chalk cliff. Carole took in Nick, holding a tyre iron, guarding the Land Rover to prevent Brian Helling’s escape by that route. Beside him was a sight almost as welcome as Ted Crisp – Jude.

But Jude was looking upwards with fear in her eyes and there was shouting from above them.

Carole, still holding Ted Crisp’s hand, moved backwards to see what was going on at the top of the cliff.

Brian Helling had scurried up a narrow diagonal ridge across the chalk face. An escape route from Fort Pittsburgh that they’d found in their childhood games. But, at the top of the cliff, knowing the way Brian would come, stood Lennie Baylis.

The sergeant was much heavier in build than his opponent, who looked effete and slightly ridiculous in his trademark beret and black coat. The leather was scored with white chalk marks where Brian had scrambled against the cliff.

They faced each other for a moment in silence, then Brian Helling’s escape was cut short as Lennie Baylis’s heavy body slammed into him. For a moment it looked as though the lighter man had lost his balance and would fall back down the chalk. But somehow he managed to grab hold of his assailant and, watched with appalled fascination by the four below, the two bodies grappled together on the cliff top, re-creating a long-remembered childhood conflict.

There was a sound like a gasp and, gradually, the bodies separated. As in slow motion, one slipped away from the other. Then, gathering momentum, the body slithered down the face of the cliff, leaving a livid smear of red on the discoloured chalk.

At the top, with bloodied knife in hand and an expression of triumph on his face, stood Brian Helling.