by Benson, Tom
He set his small team to work on emptying his train carriages. He explained how to remove the window boxes of his herbs, flowers and vegetables. Many of the herbs would have to be cultivated because they’d be needed as natural remedies in the ensuing weeks and months.
Victoria’s team remained on one side of the corridor working under her direction as they advanced through the vegetation. They would either leave something in place if indicated by tape or uproot carefully and move things to make room for something else.
Several hours after the mammoth task started, the glass corridor had been altered. It changed from a long miniature jungle to something resembling an organised and well-stocked greenhouse. The path through the centre became more firm with the footsteps of every person who walked there.
Harry’s Place as the old carriages were still known were reduced to large empty containers. The exception was the carriage near the end of the tunnel which had been his living quarters and mini-lab.
“What do you intend to do with all of this equipment?” Tracey asked.
“If you could suggest a location I’d like to move it gradually along to the main admin complex.”
“I think we might have just the place for you. About halfway along the main road through the facility, you’ll have seen a pair of doors on the left. It’s been used as a general storage area for years, but it has a workbench, running water and power points.”
“That sounds ideal, but we needn’t try to deal with it right away.”
“No, I can see that you’d have to direct how to dismantle this before it was moved. We could carry the stuff out to the tunnel entrance just outside here and load it in sections onto the hover-boards for transportation. Perhaps a job for tomorrow, Harry?”
“No hurry, and thanks, Tracey.”
The firefighter looked through the empty carriages. “From all that I’ve seen and heard so far I reckon your carriages will end up being put to use again.”
“When we’ve got everything else working smoothly maybe a few days’ work would get the interiors hygienically clean, ready for their next task.”
“Time is on our side, Harry.”
They climbed down from the end carriage and looked along the seemingly endless rails, still highlighted periodically by the dim yellow lights along one side of the old tunnel.
Harry stared into the distance. “Even now, I consider it a miracle that those people survived by entering the other end of this place in a touring coach.”
Tracey nodded. “I’m sure it’s not lost on any of them, and I’ve no doubt we’ll have some post-traumatic stress to deal with in time to come.” She stared along the disappearing rails. “I must walk through the tunnel some time.”
“Five miles is a long walk when you’re negotiating railway lines and sleepers with every step.”
“I would think it would be bad in the dark and the return journey would be tedious too.” She turned and clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, Harry, let’s see how Victoria’s people are getting on, and we’ll all head back for an evening meal.”
After their late meal, many of the group went off to rest, having done several hours of manual work for the first time in a while. A few tables were occupied by the die-hard planners who sat in pairs or threes, trying to come up with theories on how to use whatever resources were available to improve quality of life.
“Go on, Cherry,” Bill said. “What was your idea?” He was drinking herbal tea and chatting with Paul and the young engineer.
“I was asking Paul about the condition of the coach. It survived well, after being piled into a railway tunnel at speed.” Cherry smiled at Paul. “I thought we could strip out the coach but instead of ferrying all the seats and panels from the other end, perhaps we should try to drive the vehicle through the tunnel and take it apart at this end.”
Bill half-turned. “Would you be able to drive it, Paul?”
“I’m sure if we took it really slowly it would work. I was explaining to Cherry that the coach wheels fitted on the railway line because miraculously, the antique train was the same width of wheelbase as our modern coach.”
“It sounds like a great idea,” Bill said. “This young lady is pretty handy with all things electrical and mechanical, so we could probably utilise every component on that coach.”
Cherry said, “At present, the power-pack is being used for the emergency lights through the tunnel. The first thing to do would be to organise a cable from within this main facility to do the job. I’m sure we could locate sufficient cable to reach from one side of the glass corridor to the other and then it only has to make it to the junction box at the first light.”
Paul nodded excitedly, “Cherry said as soon as we have the cable in place at this end we could get along to the other end and disconnect. When the lights went off, we’d know it was safe to continue.”
“Those larger hover-boards would take the weight of two people,” Bill said. “At least you wouldn’t have to walk to the other end, and you wouldn’t need to use two individual hover-boards.”
“True,” Paul said, “although now, I don’t think I’d consider it a hardship to walk through that tunnel.”
“We’ve all put in a good day today in one way and another,” Bill said, “so are you two going to investigate the cable and whatever tomorrow?”
“Straight after breakfast.” Cherry laughed.
“Excuse me, Bill.” A handsome, dark-haired woman of forty approached. “That question you asked me earlier … I have an answer for you.”
Bill said, “Outside the cafeteria in two minutes, okay, Linda?”
“I’ll see you there.”
Bill finished his tea and stood. “I’ll see you guys later, and I like your plan.”
“It’s all go when you’re popular, isn’t it, Bill?” Cherry winked. “You be careful out there if you wander away with Linda.”
Bill left the cafeteria and followed the narrow passage out toward the main tunnel road. He strolled along looking at the strange, shining black rock that made up the interior of the mountain. The man had hardly walked fifty metres when he was joined by a figure from a small recess in a dark section of wall between the lights.
Bill turned. “Hello, Linda.”
“Hi, Bill. I carried out my mission earlier today in brief stages to reduce suspicion.”
“What’s your verdict?”
“Before I answer that one, how did you know you could trust me?”
“A policewoman I know recognised you as the author of a book on prison reform.”
“I’ll accept that.” Linda smiled briefly. “That tells me that your policewoman friend is one of us … and a good judge of reading material.”
They strolled farther through the tunnel together.
Bill said, “What did you uncover in your brief conversations with our suspect?”
Linda stopped to face him. “If you’d like to know my verdict, I don’t know what she is, but the woman who calls herself Patsy is not a prison officer.”
16 - Security Measures
Day Six
Thursday 2nd June
After breakfast, Tracey accompanied Paul and Cherry to check for the most convenient electrical junction to feed power through the glass corridor to the old tunnel. Five metres from the glass corridor, inside the Auchcarn tunnel road was a junction box. The three people worked together to estimate the length of cable required to reach the old tunnel lighting.
Two hours later they had the cable laid from the junction box, through the corridor and into the tunnel ready for connection. Three metres of spare cable was coiled at either end, and the small team were prepared to deal with the coach. While Paul and Cherry rode on a cargo hover-board and carried two large flashlights, Tracey rode an individual hover-board.
The big flashlights were positioned to illuminate under the coach and the wall area where Cherry had connected cabling from the coach power pack to the tunnel lights. Paul cut the power on the coach and then f
licked the massive pack underneath to neutral. The tunnel lights all blacked out, leaving the area lit by the flashlights.
All cabling was removed from under the coach. Cherry reconnected the tunnel lighting cable to the small section that she’d isolated previously to get power from the coach power pack. The lighting cable was once again established from end to end through the entire tunnel, although it now needed a new power source.
Paul used the hydraulic jack to lower the back wheels of the coach onto the rails so that they settled as the front wheels had done.
Tracey shone a light along the sides and on all four corners at the wheels. “What will happen without tyres at the back, Paul?”
“Because the front tyres are already deflated they’ll shred in a short time. To make the back wheels work, it will take a gentle application of power to gain traction. As long as I can make the coach move forward, it doesn’t matter how slowly it goes.”
Cherry said, “Do you want both hover-boards up front, Paul?”
“Yes, if one of you goes about twenty metres ahead followed by the second one at ten metres, I’ll try to get the coach to about five miles per hour. It ought to continue moving, and there will be no danger of a collision with you guys but keep checking that I’m moving.”
“How will you stop at the other end?” Tracey said. “Remember, four old train carriages are sitting along there.”
Paul laughed. “If I get that far, I’ll be happy to release the power, and the coach will coast to a stop within a short distance. Are you guys ready?”
“Let’s do it,” Cherry said, always being ready for action.
Tracey set off on the individual hover-board with the small sidelights illuminated. A few seconds later, Cherry set off on the cargo hover-board, front and rear lights on.
Paul had already engaged power on the coach and eased the large machine forward as if it were about to cross an icy pond. A moderate increase in power provided the minimum traction that he hoped to get the journey started. When he reached five miles per hour, he held it steady. It was a surreal experience driving the big twenty-first century luxury coach along a set of railway lines which were over a century old.
The front tyres had been deflated to help reduce vibration when running the motor at a standstill, but now as the coach moved forward the loose rubber first burbled on the rails and then shredded. When the final pieces of tyre fell away the coach was moving along gently, but noisily with the bare wheel rims on the rails.
As Paul focused on the tiny lights of the two hovering machines advancing slowly ahead of him, his eyes misted. The last time he’d been behind the wheel and driving the coach he’d been tackling mountain roads at speeds over eighty. He’d been working hard and striving to save the lives of his passengers from annihilation in the nuclear holocaust.
“We can do this,” he whispered and caressed the dashboard affectionately. “It’s only a five-mile rail tunnel.” He wiped his eyes and felt a deep sense of gratitude to still be alive and find humour performing his present task.
Progress was slow, and when he reached the two-mile point, Paul saw a strange blue light on the left. He recalled that the tiny LEDs that Harry had made would continue working for weeks if left unattended in the maintenance portals. All of the portals were still illuminated by their LEDs, and Paul was looking forward to telling Harry.
At slightly less than ninety minutes journey time, the two hover-boards moved to the right and passed an obstruction on the track; the rear carriage of Harry’s Place. Paul cut the power and allowed the coach to ease to a stop a few metres away from the back of the old train.
“Phase One, complete,” Paul murmured as he climbed down from the coach to the gravel.
Half an hour later, Cherry and Tracey working together established the power line from the old railway tunnel through the glass corridor to the junction box just inside the hydro facility tunnel.
“Time for lunch,” Paul said.
The old tunnel was illuminated again, but with a more stable power supply, and one which could be operated at the flick of a switch from within the hydro complex. For the first time in many years the tunnel was lit from end to end, albeit on one side.
In the afternoon, Paul, Cherry, Calvin and Marie set to removing the reclining seats and their mechanisms from the coach. Even with four people working in two pairs, it was a demanding task. Each time there were four seats removed and taken out of the coach, they were stacked onto one of the cargo hover-boards and ferried to the main complex.
While this operation was underway, Bill appeared in the cafeteria with a note in his hand. “I’ve got a special task to be performed.” He looked around those in the cafeteria. “Could I have the following people … Sandy, Flint, Norman, Anne, and …Patsy. If you’d all follow me, please.” He led the way out to the tunnel road at a brisk pace, so their conversation was minimal.
Patsy turned to the person nearest to her as they left the cafeteria. “What’s going on?”
Flint, the younger soldier, was walking alongside her. “I don’t know. I hardly know the guy, but we’ve got loads to do, and he’s full of surprises.”
They reached the glass corridor and walked along the path between the re-organised greenery. They stepped into the old tunnel and continued past the train carriages and the coach which was being stripped of its upholstery.
A short while later, the small group reached MP-3. Flint moved to the side of the doorway as briefed and the others followed Bill inside. He turned and ushered them into the small room on the right. The outer door to the tunnel was closed by Flint, who was the only person not to enter the portal. The bolt was heard sliding into place. Only one person was phased by the noise of the door being secured.
“What’s going on?” Patsy said and looked at each of their faces.
“Sit down, Patsy … or whatever your name is,” Bill said.
She took a pace forward.
Sandy raised his laser pistol. “The man said, sit, so you can do it now, or after I’ve stunned you.”
Patsy glared at the soldier and sat while the others remained standing. “What’s this about … and what do you mean, Patsy or whatever your name is?”
Bill said, “We’d like to ask you some questions, and the first one is, what’s your real name?”
“Patsy … is my real name.”
“Okay, let’s try something else,” Norman said. “What does it say on your bracelet?”
“It’s engraved with my name … Patsy.” She looked along the faces and glanced down at her wrist before raising her arm slowly. “You can read it for yourself even in this light.”
Norman glanced at the jewellery. “What type of metal is your bracelet?”
“Silver, and you can see that too. What the hell is this all about … has somebody said I stole their bracelet?”
“What’s engraved on the inside of your bracelet?” Norman saw her flinch.
“It’s… engraved with … a date.”
“What is the date?”
She stood. “I don’t have—”
The laser pistol was raised and aimed at her chest from less than two paces. “Sit, and I won’t tell you again. When you’re stunned in the chest, it fucking hurts.” The soldier’s expression was deadpan.
Patsy sat down, her gaze occasionally turning towards the soldier.
“What’s the date engraved inside your bracelet?” Norman repeated and stared into her eyes.
“It’s an … anniversary, nothing you’d understand.”
“I didn’t ask what it represented,” Norman said evenly, “I asked for the date.”
“I’m not telling you.”
Bill said, “Okay, what was your profession before we ended up in here?”
“I was … a prison officer.”
“Perhaps prison was your occupation, or you were in touch with somebody who served a lot of time behind bars, but I don’t think it was your profession.”
“What are you talking about �
� I was a bloody prison officer.”
“Did you ever work on the British Prison Ship Elba out in the Irish Sea?”
“Yes, I did, and you’re the second person to ask me that recently.”
“Who was the other person who asked?” Bill said.
“Linda … one of the other people in the group and she can vouch for me because she’s a prison officer as well. We talked about several prisons only yesterday, including the ship.”
“There is a major difference between you and Linda,” Bill said. “She was an official and you were a regular visitor or an inmate, probably both. Anybody who has served in more than one prison can talk about it as if they were a prison officer because they’ll have a good grasp of the system, routines and suchlike. Likewise, somebody who has a close friend who has served time in different prisons can easily research and learn the routines.”
Patsy forgot the others in the small room and stared malevolently at the man with the insights.
Bill stared straight back at her. “A considerable level of knowledge can be gained by an inmate. You didn’t work on the BPS Elba, because women never worked on the ship. The woman you were talking to recently was Linda Farringdon. She wasn’t a prison officer, she’d attained the rank of governor and she was on the selection team who chose the exceptional men who would be the officers on the BPS Elba.”
“We both worked on the ship. She told me she was on the ship, but maybe she doesn’t remember me.”
“Linda was on the ship, because she toured it before any inmates were ever taken there. Female officers never served onboard.” Bill turned to Sandy. “If she doesn’t remove the bracelet to show us the date, shoot her in the face.”
“What the fu—” Patsy’s lips remained parted as she stared at the business end of the laser pistol now aiming at her face. She slowly unclipped the bracelet.