4th June
Bishop Reginald Hunter marked his forty-fourth day of captivity on the concrete wall of Leadbetter’s bunker.
He had become increasingly concerned as time had passed. There had been no return by Leadbetter, and as far as he knew, no one else was aware of his location. There was no radio in the bunker or any other way of communicating with the outside world.
What would happen if Leadbetter had been killed? Anything could have happened if he had pursued Rycroft into Area 51.
In reality, it was only too clear to Hunter exactly what would happen if Leadbetter had died without revealing the location of his bunker.
He looked at the food supplies. He had calculated that enough remained for a further twelve months. Barring medical emergencies, he would either starve to death some time next summer or be killed if the meteorite hit the Earth in September.
As he pondered on these less than optimistic scenarios for at least the thousandth time, he heard the rasping sound of metal against metal, and a shaft of sunlight appeared through the entrance in the ceiling at the far end of the bunker.
If that was Leadbetter returning, Hunter hoped that he had been satisfied with the information that he had provided about Rycroft.
A figure descended the steps into the bunker.
‘I’m Police Constable Smith,’ said the figure. ‘Are you Bishop Reginald Hunter?’