Episode 6: For the Ghost, Chapter 5
"You do realise we're just in ordinary caves," whispered Cassandra, shining the light of her torch ahead of her and keeping her free arm firmly linked with Ezekiel's. "It was the magic of the labyrinth that helped me make the map in my head last time."
"You have a photographic memory," grinned Ezekiel, looking over at her through his goggles. "Surely you can remember what way you walked?"
"Yes, a photographic memory is a great help, but not in the dark," she hissed back, waving the torch around to emphasise the narrowness of its beam. "And you seem to think I have an inbuilt compass in my brain too!"
"Why are you whispering?" Jones giggled. "Scared the ghost's gonna get ya?"
"It's not a malevolent ghost!" Cassandra whisper-shouted.
"Then why are you whispering?" Jones grinned back.
"It's a cave," she pointed out. "There might be bats here. At this time of year, some bats hibernate. We shouldn't wake them. It could damage their hibernation pattern and cost them valuable energy that they need to survive the winter months."
"Plus you're scared of bats," smirked Ezekiel.
"I am not!"
"Are too!"
"Am not!"
"Did you hear that?"
Cassandra shone the torch upwards to illuminate their faces, dragging him to a stop and turning him to face her. The look he saw on her face spoke volumes. "Ezekiel, don't!"
"I swear I heard something," the thief hissed, flipping up the filter with his free hand. "Not pipes, a person. Get over to the side, there, and turn the light off."
They hurried over to the edge of the tunnel, wedging themselves behind a fallen boulder and switching the torch off. Soon Cassandra heard the noise too. A scattering of pebbles underfoot. The heavy breath of someone who had been running. Running down from a roof top, perhaps?
"How did you..." Cassandra managed to whisper before Jones clamped a hand over her mouth. She could feel the muscles in his body next to her tense, then relax again. This was Ezekiel Jones, World Class Thief. He didn't do punchy. Instead, he ran, and he hid. And he was a master of both. She let her body relax, as he had, carefully moulding into the form of the rocks behind her. Taught muscle become tired muscles, and tired muscles fatigue and give way. Better to find a spot where you can relax into your hiding place and not risk a drooping arm or leg or back hitting something that might make a noise.
The pebbly footsteps grew closer, and with them came a light. It was a bright light, much more powerful than the torch on her phone. It swept over the rocks above them and down to the boulder. Cassandra couldn't help but hold her breath, although she didn't even notice a hitch in Ezekiel's. The light moved on. The footsteps died away. Cassandra let out her breath like air from a leaky tyre. She felt Ezekiel press a finger to her lips, as he would his own if she could see him. Don't speak. Not yet.
Echoing back from the mouth of the cavern, she heard a voice. She couldn't make out its words. She could barely make out that it was male, although it might have just been a deep-voiced woman. She waited. The voice stopped. She waited. Ezekiel removed his finger from her lips.
"You can talk now," he said. "But keep it low."
"Is he gone?" Cassandra whispered, as quietly as possible.
"I think he may be," Jones replied sotto voce. "He told the top dog we weren't here. He'll be heading round the cliff to find out if we left that way."
"So we should try and get back to the castle through these tunnels now, before he works it out," nodded Cassandra. "You should probably take the lead."
Jones unfolded himself from his hiding place without dislodging anything larger than dust. He held out a hand, found Cassandra's, and helped her up. "And when we get home remind me to train you to talk quietly."
"I am talking quietly," Cassandra replied.
"You were, there," smiled Jones.
XXXX
Baird dispensed the security guards to their various outposts. She had been shown to their suite of rooms on the top floor, with Flynn in tow of course, and had set up a command post there. The table in the centre of the seating area held blueprints and maps of the castle and its lands. The hotel part of the castle wasn't large, but it was packed. Of the six suites available, all were taken, mostly by high ranking archaeologists linked to the wedding party, or members of the bride and groom's family. The suite Jones had booked, somehow, was the largest: the Eisenhower. It's main bedroom held the largest bed Eve had ever seen, and the adjoining dressing room held two more singles. The comfortable, overstuffed armchairs by the sea view window clashed with the sense of urgency and movement that surrounded the table between them. The castle security force was larger than usual because of the wedding, and some of the names attending it, but it was still nowhere near large enough to deal with the sheer size of the castle grounds. They had closed all exits from the castle as soon as Eve had first raised the alarm, guides shepherding visitors into enclosed areas where stories of the Kennedy family could be used to regale them until the crisis was over, but there was nothing they could do if the sniper was already out. The estate lands spread far and wide. Far too far and far too wide to patrol effectively.
"What are these?" Flynn asked, pointing down at a wheel like item on the building plans from his perch on the arm of Eve's chair.
"Old spiral staircases from the original Robert Adam plans," said the estate manager, seated in the chair opposite. "There's one at either end turret, but the other two in the centre are blinds. Adam loved symmetry."
"It's a shame we didn't have an expert on architecture with us," said Flynn idly. "He could point out all the possible hidden hidey holes and such."
"There are certainly plenty stories, Mr Lethbridge-Stewart," said the manager. "Tales of Kennedy earls hiding from the English during the Jacobite rebellion. Ghost stories and tales of smugglers. Nothing has ever been found."
"Ghost stories, really?" Flynn flashed a charming smile. "I would love to hear those."
"Oh they're for the children, really," the manager waved a hand. "The castle has at least seven ghosts, some with detailed and mysterious backgrounds, others who are simply vague legends of a bygone time."
"Nevertheless..." Flynn began.
"I think we've got all we need for now," cut in Baird. "Thank you, ma'am. We'll take it from here."
"Oh, of course," the manager, slightly taken aback at the Colonel's brusque tone, rose. "If you need anything else just dial reception and ask for me."
Baird watched her go, the door swinging closed behind her with a click. "Right, we need Stone," she said, as soon as she was sure she and Flynn were alone. "You're right, there could be any number of hidden passageways in this place. Assuming our shooter didn't leave by the usual exits, and it doesn't look from the eyewitness reports and camera feeds that he did, he must have gone through one of them. If the tunnels do lead to the house, they must have an exit here too. We need to find both. We need our expert."
"I'll make the call," nodded Flynn, reaching for his cell. "You should have let me get the ghost stories though."
"We've already got the ghost stories," Baird shook her head. "Ezekiel and Cassandra got those back in the Library."
XXXX
"This is ridiculous," grinned Jacob Stone. "Man, I still can't believe I'm sitting here, arguing about art with Leonardo da Vinci. The real Leonardo da Vinci! Is there anything we have agreed on?"
"I believe we are both admirers of Van Gogh's work," replied the old man. "We're admirers of them all, by our very nature, but there at least we agree on the reasons why."
Stone's phone rang. He visibly sagged, his shoulders drooping and the smile that had lit his features fading from view. He answered it.
"How soon can you get here?" Flynn's voice asked. "Set the door to Eve's tracker, not Cassandra's."
"Why?" Stone's shoulders dropped further. He could feel his heart quicken. "Where's Cassie?"
"She's fine, she's with Ezekiel," soothed Flynn. "I'm sorry to drag you away from da Vinci, but he's not going anywhere and we need you here."
"I'll be there in five," said Stone, his voice returning to the businesslike gruffness of days gone by.
It was closer to two minutes when he walked through the main door of the Eisenhower Suite. He made a bee line for Baird and Flynn, still sitting by the window, and sat down in the chair vacated by the estate manager.
"What's going on?" Stone asked, peering down at the plans and blueprints on the table between them. "That's Robert Adam's handwriting. That's an Adam staircase. This... Is this Culzean castle? Are we in Culzean castle? Where exactly are we?"
"Eisenhower Suite, top floor," said Flynn. "And we need you to look at these plans and tell us if there are any hidden passageways. We need a way into the tunnels down to the shore and a possible exit from the castle."
"One hidden passage shouldn't be too hard to find," said Stone, turning the plans towards him.
"One?" Baird looked from Stone to Flynn and back again. The penny dropped. "Of course: a way out is also a way in and vice versa."
"Sorry," said Flynn quietly. "Didn't want to worry you when there was nothing you could do."
"It's my job to worry!" Eve snapped. "Whether I can do something or not!"
"Now I'm worried," said Stone, watching them with narrowed eyes. "Why are we worrying? What's going on?"
"There was someone on the roof," explained Baird, her voice softening as she spoke. "He, or she, had a gun. They took a shot at Jones and Cassandra down on the beach, looking round where the murder victim we're investigating landed. They're both fine. Jones saw the gun in time and got Cassandra out of the road. The shooter kept them pinned down long enough for the tide to come in and cut them off, though, so they're trying to find a way up through the tunnels that used to be used by smugglers. We came in here and got ourselves taken up to the roof. There was nobody there by that point, though I think we found where the dead guy went over. We claimed the rooms Jones had booked for us and sent the local security out in search of our shooter while we try to figure out how he, or she, could have got out of the castle without being caught on camera or spotted by staff. We also need to figure out how to open up the other end of the tunnels that Cassandra and Jones are by now stuck in thanks to the rising tide. Which may be haunted, by the way."
"Was Cassie hit?" Stone asked, watching Baird's face intently.
"No," Baird shook her head. "Jones got to her in time."
"Okay," Stone looked back to the plans. He squinted at the cursive writing of the architect, then pointed at one of the rooms. "We start here."
"That was fast!" Flynn commented with a slight frown.
"Adam loved a lot of things in architecture," explained Stone. "One of them was symmetry. Another was libraries. That's the original Adam library. There's a turret with a spiral staircase leading from one corner of the room, and a turret without one leading from another. I say we start with that one."