The Sentence Is Death

‘Go on.’

‘Well, Charlie Richardson may not have been a professional but he was an experienced caver. He knew what he was doing. So I never understood how he could have been so bloody stupid. The simple fact of the matter is that there was no reason for him to die.’

Now that he had started, the food was forgotten. It was as if he had been waiting to tell his side of the story ever since the accident had occurred. His eyes were bleak as he went back. ‘Gregory Taylor leads them into the cave. Richard Pryce is next. Charlie Richardson brings up the rear. Of course, they don’t know it yet, but the rain has been pouring down above ground. By the time they realise what’s happening, it’s too late. A flood pulse has formed and it’s heading their way.’

‘How would they know if they can’t see it?’ I asked.

‘They can hear it. It’s a sort of booming and a mumbling . . . the worst sound in the world and it’s all around them, getting louder and louder. And very soon they can feel it. The rain has made its way through, coming off the cracks and the stalactites.’ He dismissed me angrily, turning back to Hawthorne. ‘They have to make a decision fast. They’ve got maybe ten minutes. A quarter of an hour at most. So they decide to keep going and, as you know, Richardson misses Drake’s Passage – that’s the name of the contortion – and continues into Spaghetti Junction. It’s easily enough done, particularly if you’re in a hurry. But here’s what I don’t understand.’ He tapped his finger on the table for emphasis. ‘Once he was there, why didn’t he just stay where he was? He could have found higher ground and sat it out until all the water had passed through. The worst that would have happened was that he’d have been left on his own in the dark and might have had to wait for us to come and find him.’

‘Maybe he panicked,’ I suggested.

Gallivan shook his head. ‘An experienced caver doesn’t panic. He had plenty of battery power. More than that, he was carrying a safety bag.’ He explained what it was before we could ask. ‘It’s made of waterproof fabric. You pull it over your head and sit inside. It keeps you warm while you wait to be rescued. But Charlie allowed it to kill him.’

‘How was that?’ Hawthorne asked.

‘That was how he got stuck. The safety bag was attached to his caving harness by a short rope and it got caught in the contortion as he dropped down. Do you understand what I’m saying?’ He made a shape with his hands, a narrow tube running vertically. ‘He leaves Spaghetti Junction and finds his way back to Drake’s Passage. He drops down, trying to catch up with the others, but the bag gets stuck. He’s got his full weight on the cord and there’s nothing he can do. He’s got no purchase to climb up again without his mates there to assist him. The silly bugger isn’t carrying a knife, so he can’t cut the rope and he’s left dangling. When the pulse hits, he drowns.’ He paused. ‘That was how I found him. Maybe he’d been knocked out first. That would have been a mercy.’

‘Did you ever talk about any of this with Gregory Taylor?’ Hawthorne asked.

‘Of course I talked to him. Apart from the fact that we were mates, it was my job as duty controller. But he wasn’t there when the other man died. He and Pryce had already gone on ahead. What was going on in Richardson’s head right then? Your guess is as good as mine.’

‘Why didn’t all three of them wait in Spaghetti Junction? If you say it was safer there.’

‘Maybe they should have done. But Greg told me he was afraid that once they went in, they’d never find their way out. And he had a point. I’ve been in there and it’s a bloody nightmare.’ Gallivan sighed. ‘Anyway, it’s easy enough to be wise after the event. They heard the water coming and they wanted out. I might have made the same decision if I’d been with them.’

There was a long silence. I became aware that I was the only one who was still eating. I put down my knife and fork.

‘There is one other thing you might want to know,’ Gallivan added. ‘Greg rang me from London, the day he died.’

‘The Saturday?’ Hawthorne said.

‘That’s right. Saturday afternoon. He was on his way to the station. He said he wanted to talk to me about Long Way Hole – about what really happened.’

‘Is that what he said? Were those his exact words?’

‘That’s right. He said he’d been thinking about it and there was something he wanted to get off his chest. We arranged to meet here, at this very pub, on Monday night. Seven o’clock.’

‘But he never got home.’

‘He went under that train and that was it.’

There was a moment of clarity that came to me in much the same way as water must have come rushing through Long Way Hole. It was suddenly obvious. Gregory Taylor knew something that nobody else did. Something had happened just before the fatal accident. He had wanted to tell Dave Gallivan. But he had been killed before he could get home.

He had been murdered. And that was the reason.