Vanished by James Delargy (best books to read in life txt) 📗

vibrating, almost buzzing like a generator but more powerful. As if something was alive inside. Which was possible. Lorcan opened the cupboard and jumped backwards. With his eyes closed. Only when he had retreated a safe distance did he take a peek. He expected to see something large and deadly. But inside there was nothing but a fine, floating dust like magician’s smoke.

Following the tracks in the dust, he inched the cupboard to the side. It revealed a hole in the floor. Big enough to enter. With a pitch-black tunnel beyond. Without the cupboard hindering it, the rumbling sound increased in voracity. There was something down there. He wondered if it was some odd geological force, an anomaly never before discovered. That would be perfect for his book, a mystery solved.

He was still considering this when he returned to the house to get a torch.

Naiyana was inside, editing a vlog on her phone. It took three attempts to get her attention, like she was on another planet entirely.

‘I found a tunnel.’

She looked up at him and frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘A tunnel in one of the houses. The rumbling we keep hearing is coming from it.’

Naiyana paused as if lost at what to say. Then she found the words. ‘What about the well? What about plastering the walls? Getting that furniture made?’ she said, pointing to the boxes propped in the corner.

‘You told me not to bother.’

‘I didn’t mean go off potholing, or whatever you’re doing. Besides having a hole in the basement isn’t unusual. Look at Coober Pedy and those places, houses with personal mines dug into the basements.’

‘For opal mining. This isn’t opal mining. It sounds like something is growing down there.’

Naiyana glanced around, lowering her voice as if afraid Dylan would hear. ‘Focus on our house, Lorcan, rather than some adventure. I already have one kid to deal with.’

‘I’m checking it out,’ he insisted.

‘And what if it’s some kind of underground aquifer?’

‘That would be a good thing.’

‘Not if you fall into it.’

‘I won’t…’ he started but realized it was a losing battle. Grabbing the torch, he moved for the door. Act now, talk later.

She interrupted his march. ‘I’m meeting an old friend tomorrow. And will check out the school in town too. For Dylan.’

Lorcan turned. She had tried to bury the bad news up front. ‘What old friend? Not one of the charity lot?’

She gave him a faint shoulder shrug.

‘You know that’s not wise, Nee.’

‘Don’t lecture me about what’s not wise. You’re about to wander down a hundred-year-old tunnel cut into someone’s basement,’ she said, mockingly.

Lorcan had no comeback to this. So he left the house with harsh words warning him that he should concentrate on fixing the house.

The tunnel was dark. The torchlight illuminated buttresses and joints that were solid but antique. The rumbling had disappeared, replaced by the clap of his footsteps. The construction was old but the smell was new, moisture in the air that made him wonder if it was indeed an aquifer. But in addition to the moisture was the unmistakable smell of hot oil. Worked oil. Industry. Maybe an open, underground oil deposit. If such a thing was possible. His geographical and geological knowledge didn’t extend that far.

After ten minutes of careful manoeuvring, his torchlight fell on a small generator attached to what looked to be a red sifting device, conveyor belt and a grinding machine with wheels and a hammer. New machinery, not from the 1970s when this town was supposedly abandoned for the last time. He touched the side of the grinding machine. It was still hot. Someone had been down here. Mining. And recently. Lorcan felt his nerves take over. Suddenly he felt like he had stumbled upon something that he shouldn’t have.

Who could be here? What were they looking for? And were they finding anything? In his educated opinion there were only two reasons to be down a hole in the middle of nowhere: drugs or gold. He didn’t want to be caught up in either of those possibilities alone and unarmed.

It meant his exit was infinitely more rapid than his entrance speed, the torch bobbing in front of him, expecting at any moment to be confronted by person or persons unknown. Clambering out of the tunnel he tripped and skidded across the floor, smearing his shirt in fine dust.

Finding his feet, he scrambled out of the house. What now? His immediate thought, the smart thinking was to go back, tell Nee what he had found, pack everyone up and get out of there. But what had he found? Who had he found? Maybe he should be certain before he alarmed her and Dylan. So he darted across to the tin shack opposite and waited to see who – if anyone – would return.

39

Emmaline

They gave her Oily and ZZ. Both more than competent detectives. Oily was in fact Olly Treeston and got the nickname from his excess hair gel. ZZ was so called because DI Moore forgot his real name, Zhao Zheng, at a briefing once. ZZ was easier and it had stuck.

The discovery of Lorcan’s body had launched the case to Number One priority. She and Oily were to work it on the ground supported by the local cops, while ZZ would cover the Perth side, deskbound since the motorcycle accident two years ago that paralysed him.

Oily had brought with him information. Or a lack of information. An investigation into the machines found down the mine had yielded nothing, the serial numbers scrubbed, making identification of the dealer impossible.

Forensics had more to report. The body had been confirmed as Lorcan Maguire’s. But as well as Lorcan’s blood being on his shirt there was also what they described as a significant amount of another type. Matching Dylan’s according to his medical records. They were now working on the assumption that the boy had been there but was now missing, probably injured.

A search for the shell casings was under way but nothing had