The Lost Gardens(78)

‘Maybe his hiding place was the other side of the wall. That way he could still get to it from the house.’

‘It’s possible. But I still think it makes more sense for it to be on this side. That way the room would be completely closed off from either end.’

‘So where is it, then?’

Kingston shook his head. ‘I wish I knew.’

‘I suppose we’d best start back, then.’ She reached a hand out. ‘Why don’t you let me carry that back,’ she said, taking the lamp.

Kingston sighed. ‘Not much else to do here by the looks of it. At least for now, anyway.’

‘One thing’s for sure. Your friend Ferguson is going to have the surprise of his life when he sees all this. Can you imagine?’

‘I’ll call him when we get back to the house. I’m sorely tempted to call Chadwick, too, but that can wait.’

They had reached the door of the second room, the one with the filing cabinet. ‘Let’s take another look,’ said Kingston. He pushed the large iron-bound door all the way back and entered. Jamie followed. A quick glance told them that they hadn’t missed anything the first time: the room was empty.

Jamie looked up at the glass lampshade hanging from the ceiling. Remembering the first room where she had found the light switch behind the door, she walked over and pulled the door back, fully expecting to see a switch. ‘Jesus—Lawrence,’ she gasped. ‘This is it! I think I’ve found it. We just didn’t look hard enough the first time.’

Behind the entrance door, hidden when it swung back against the wall, was another, smaller, much newer door.

Two steps and Kingston was at her side.

‘My God! This has to be it.’

Together, they studied the door, Kingston caressing the smooth surface as if it were the patina of a fine antique. There was no question that it had been installed for security purposes. With no handle or doorknob, the only feature on the flat surface was a circular brass key escutcheon the size of a 10p coin. The key to open it would have to be small, like a padlock key. Kingston traced his hand over the surface then knocked on it with his knuckles. ‘Sounds like metal,’ he said. ‘Hard to tell.’

‘How are we going to open it?’

‘Get a locksmith down here—or take a stab at trying to drill through it, I guess.’

‘Isn’t that difficult?’

‘It is. Damned tricky. If you don’t know precisely what you’re doing, you can bugger up the lock and then you’ll never get it open.’

Jamie watched while Kingston examined the escutcheon again. Staring at it, he was actually thinking back to a time over thirty years ago when he was a captain in the army. Whatever had possessed him at the time he couldn’t imagine but he’d done a stint with Special Forces which, as part of its rigorous training regime in covert operations, survival training and commando techniques, had included, of all things, a course on picking and opening locks. Could he still remember how to do it? He knew that there was an optimum position to drill—and only one. It could also require two different types of drill bit. Jamie broke his train of thought.

‘Do we have a cordless drill?’

‘I’m sure there’s one in the workshop.’

Jamie touched his arm. ‘Let’s get out of here. It’s starting to give me the creeps. We can talk about it on the way back.’

They left the room and retraced their steps back to the chapel. Within ten minutes they were back at the house, and Kingston took off to find a drill. Luckily, Eric Newsome, the gardener in charge of the vegetable garden, was in the workshop when Kingston arrived. He found a cordless drill immediately but the only drill bits they could find were for wood. Kingston called Jamie on his mobile and told her he was taking off for Taunton to buy the drill bits.

Driving into town, Kingston mulled over the other options. The simplest would be to get a locksmith to open the door. But the last thing he wanted was to have to take a stranger down into the catacombs. Nobody would be able to keep a secret like that very long. The other choice, of course, was to call Chadwick, get the police involved and have them open it. But whatever was behind that door, Jamie should see it first. It seemed the right thing to do. Once they knew just what it was—if indeed there was anything—then they could decide what best to do next. He walked hurriedly into the town centre from the car park, fingers crossed that he could open the mysterious door.

With several different size and type high-speed drill bits in a small brown bag on the passenger seat, Kingston headed back to Wickersham. When he alerted Jamie on his mobile that he was on his way back, she reminded him of his two o’clock staff meeting. These were frequent get-togethers at which he, Robin Gilchrist—the man Kingston had hired as the temporary head gardener—and Eric Newsome would give progress reports. The meeting also gave the team an opportunity to ask questions and air problems. Kingston asked her to postpone it.