saw the faint glow of light, he thought at first he was hallucinating again. He'd been drifting in and out of a kind of delirium, and he had enough insight in his lucid moments to realize he was beginning to go into hypothermia. In spite of his best efforts to keep moving, lethargy was a hard adversary to combat. From time to time, he'd slumped to the floor, in a dwam, his mind rambling in the strangest of directions. Once, he'd thought his father was with him, having a conversation about Raith Rovers's chances of achieving promotion. Now, that was surreal.
He had no idea how long he'd been down there. But when the glimmer of light appeared, he knew what he had to do. He jumped up and down, shouting at the top of his lungs. "Help! Help! I'm down here. Help me!"
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then the light became painful. Ziggy shielded his eyes from its brightness. "Hello?" echoed down the shaft and filled the chamber.
"Get me out of here," Ziggy screamed. "Please, get me out."
"I'm going for help," the disembodied voice called. "If I drop the torch, can you catch it?"
"Wait," Ziggy shouted. He didn't trust his hands. Besides, a torch would come down the shaft like a bullet. He stripped off his jacket and his sweater, folded them and placed them in the middle of the faint pool of light. "OK, do it now," he called up.
The light juddered and bounced on the walls of the passage, flashing crazy patterns against his startled retinas. It spiraled suddenly out of the shaft and then a heavy rubber torch plopped neatly onto the soft sheepskin. Tears stung Ziggy's eyes, a physiological and emotional reaction rolled into one. He grabbed the torch, holding it to his chest like a talisman. "Thank you," he sobbed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
"I'll be as quick as I can," the voice said, tailing off as its owner moved away.
He could bear it now, Ziggy thought. He had light. He played the torch over the walls. The rough red sandstone was worn smooth in places, the roof and walls blackened in patches with soot and tallow. It must have felt like the anteroom to hell for the prisoners kept down here. At least he knew he was going to be freed, and soon. But for them, light must only have brought increase to their despair, a recognition of the futility of any hope of escape.
When Alex arrived at the castle, two police cars, a fire engine and an ambulance sat outside. The sight of the ambulance made his heart pound. What had happened to Ziggy? He had no difficulty gaining access; Maclennan had been true to his word. One of the firemen pointed him across the grassy courtyard to the Sea Tower, where he found a scene of calm efficiency. The fire officers had set up a portable generator to run powerful arc lights and a winch. A rope led down into the hole in the middle of the floor. Alex shivered at the sight.
"It's Ziggy, right enough. The fireman's just gone down in a sort of hoist. Like a breeches buoy, if you know what that is?" Maclennan said.
"I think so. What happened?"
Maclennan shrugged. "We don't know yet."
As he spoke, a voice trickled up from below. "Bring her up."
The fireman on the winch pressed a button and the machinery howled into action. The rope coiled on a drum, inch by tantalizing inch. It seemed to go on forever. Then Ziggy's familiar head rose into sight. He looked a mess. His face was streaked with blood and dirt. One eye was swollen and bruised, his lip split and crusted. He was blinking at the lights, but as soon as his sight cleared and he saw Alex, he managed a smile. "Hey, Gilly," he said. "Nice of you to stop by."
As his torso cleared the funnel, willing hands pulled him clear, helping him out of the canvas sling. Ziggy staggered, disorientated and exhausted. Impulsively, Alex rushed forward and took his friend in his arms. The acrid smell of sweat and urine clung to him, overlaid by the earthy smell of dirt. "You're OK," Alex said, holding him close. "You're OK now."
Ziggy hung on to him as if his life depended on it. "I was afraid I was going to die there," he whispered. "I couldn't let myself think like that, but I was so afraid I was going to die."
Chapter 17~18
Chapter 17
Maclennan stormed