Max & Olivia Box Set

by Mark A Biggs

  Drawing my attention away for the TV screen, I looked to Olivia who, like me, was dumbfounded. ‘It’s 350 deaths and this is just the start. By the time this is all over, it could be in the thousands.’

  ‘If it’s a terrorist attack, when will it be over?’

  ‘Three days’ time so they say.’ Changing the subject, I asked, ‘Do you think we can ask for some breakfast or should we leave and allow them to keep watching the TV?’

  Ordering something to eat proved a welcome relief for all of those in the dining room. People turned their attention away from the constant news and the room began to fill with the sounds of conversation. Strangers and friends alike began discussing and then speculating on the unfolding events. I heard an older man, over 65 years and a retired nurse, contemplating driving to London to offer assistance. ‘The bug won’t affect me and I think the hospitals are going to need all the help they can get. I’m surprised a call hasn’t gone out for us retirees.’

  ‘It will,’ responded the person to whom he was talking.

  Next to us, two forty-something ladies were having a different conversation.

  ‘You can’t ask that,’ one of them said.

  ‘I can and I will,’ came the reply. ‘We have a right to know if anyone here has been in London during the last three days. They need to be locked up, before they can infect us!’

  Shaking my head slightly, I said to Olivia, ‘It’s time for us to leave.’

  With a heavy sense of trepidation, we rose and walked towards the door.

  ‘Not staying to watch the news?’ called the manager, a handsome man somewhere in his early twenties.

  ‘No, I’m afraid we have some other commitments,’ I called back.

  ‘Ah well, I suppose it doesn’t affect you old people. We will definitely see you tonight then.’ With that said, he went back to watching the TV and conversing with those around.

  Outside of the hotel, the street was deserted; not a person or vehicle stirred. Before making our way to the car, we studied our surroundings in case we were under surveillance, but everything was extraordinarily still.

  ‘Do you want to drive? I said. To which Olivia replied, ‘With your navigation proficiencies, which proved worse than mine, we may well end up back in London. Perhaps it’s best – no. Perhaps it’s a necessity – that you take the wheel.’ She gave me a cheeky grin before saying, ‘This time we need to be extra cautious – if we think we are being followed, we don’t attempt the retrieval. It’s best it stays hidden and, if something were to happen to us, perhaps Cliff has some other operative who can complete the mission. No matter what, Janus must not be compromised. Do you agree, Max?’

  For the first time on this trip, seated in the front of the M20, waiting to go, felt like something from my old rally driving days. The adrenalin is pumping, butterflies are in your stomach and you wonder—what the hell am I doing! But the countdown continues, 5…4, you pull your racing harnesses even tighter, 3….2….1, and then, despite the fears, you go. At that moment…the second you leave the start line, all thoughts of apprehensions are left behind and you become totally focused on the job at hand.

  This is how it was now.

  ‘I agree,’ I replied to Olivia. ‘What’s your plan?

  ‘Okay, my idea is that we take the long way to the bunker; this will give us ample time to see if we are being followed. You drive via Crail and then double back using the B940 before we go up onto the B9131. If it’s still all clear—then we go in.’

  ‘You know I can’t outrun anyone in this thing?’ I said, starting the car.

  Olivia did not answer but stared into the distance, looking out through the windscreen.

  The drive to the bunker was as disconcerting as stepping outside the hotel. The roads were empty, so it was easy to surmise that, as in the hotel, everyone was watching the events unfold in London. We were headed to what is now a tourist attraction, a secret bunker built under a farmhouse and used during the cold war. What was not commonly known, however, was that the bunker existed long before the cold war—a place we frequented on many occasions as part of our covert work.

  Like the road, the tourist attraction was deserted, although the sign said it was open for business. Stopping in the car park and looking out the window, we saw nothing that looked familiar. It had been so many years since either of us had been here that we had virtually no memory of the place at all. A few old derelict military vehicles were scattered about the fields next to the old farmhouse. The whole place looked like a left over movie set from a 1960s nuclear disaster film.

  We looked at each other and took a deep breath as we readied ourselves to leave the car. I was about to open the door when Olivia asked. ‘The clue; what do you think we’re looking for?’

  ‘I’ve gone over and over it in my mind. “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.” It’s a passage from John 4:10—my best guess is that we are looking for something to symbolise John; perhaps an eagle? Could be something to do with water, as the passage—on the surface at least—relates to water from a Well. Perhaps the Janus Machine is hidden in an old well. It’s difficult to tell until we get inside and start looking around.

  ‘Oh, Olivia, can you grab the torch we took from the old Austin before you get out? We might just need it.’

  When we opened the door and stepped outside on to the asphalt, the place felt even more deserted. The security system was child’s play as nobody expected anyone to break in.

  Switching on the lights and passing through the heavy metal doors which separated the farmhouse from the bunker, we found that it was much bigger than either of us expected. The bunker was spread over two levels. ‘You were right Olivia; this could take a couple of days. I suggest we split up. You take the first floor and I will take the second. We should make a note of anything, absolutely anything, that could be part of the clue. We meet back here and then together, we go back and check them out methodically.

  ‘I suggest we take one of those maps, the ones kindly marked, “How to find your way around Scotland’s Secret Bunkers”.’ Pointing to a pile of maps made handy for any tourist about to embark on their discovery tour, I continued, ‘Let’s meet back here in, say, two hours, unless one of us discovers anything really promising.’

  ‘Good idea,’ she said.

  I picked up one of the maps. ‘Oh Olivia, would you believe it? Look in the index, number 34 on the lower floor. Secret Passage!’

  ‘Go on, get on with you. I’ll see you in a couple of hours,’ came the reply.

  Although the lights were on, the moment I was on the lower floor, by myself, the place became surprisingly spooky. More than once I thought I saw someone in a doorway but, when I reached the room, it was empty. Alone on the floor, I heard the sound of whispering voices, or did I imagine them… When I entered the old radio room, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I shivered as if there was a presence. Forcing myself to cross the threshold, I continued the search and, finding nothing, I left.

  Room by room, my examination revealed nothing. Checking my watch I saw that it was time to meet Olivia. Perhaps she had been more successful. Secretly, I would be pleased to no longer be on my own. I’m a brave man, I said to myself, but I couldn’t stay here overnight. I don’t believe in ghosts but this place was definitely haunted.

  ‘Any luck?’ I asked Olivia, having made my way safely back to the entrance.

  ‘Nothing, although there is a chapel and it may be worth another look. Otherwise, nothing caught my attention. Oh, there were some sinks with taps—that’s water I suppose.’

  ‘All right, let’s check the chapel; it seems the most obvious place to start. If that doesn’t throw up any surprises, I think we should go to the very bottom and work our way back, one room at a time. By the way, you didn’t happen to see any ghosts on your travels?’

  Olivia looked at me dismissively before replying, ‘Now
then Max—you’re not going senile on me. Are you?’

  ‘No, no. Just asking.’

  The chapel was a long, narrow room and we concentrated our search on the exterior walls but everything appeared solid. The lectern, being an eagle, was a prime suspect. We checked on it, in it and under it, but came up with nothing. Having ruled the chapel off our list, we went downstairs and to the very back of the bunker. Starting our search afresh and, in keeping with Olivia’s observation, we gave special attention to anything with water.

  In the plant room, tucked away in the corner, were some exposed water pipes leading to a wash basin complete with a couple of taps. Directly behind the sink and, on the wall, were some old discoloured tiles. A couple of times I turned away from the wash basin only to find myself drawn back to it.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Olivia.

  ‘I’m not sure. There’s something about the tiles. They have birds on them. Do you think, rather than an eagle, we are looking for birds?

  ‘Okay, let’s assume for argument’s sake, that you are correct—what do we do?’

  ‘There’s something else about them, look; three tiles across and four down, it might be some kind of key pad? Maybe it’s the verse 4-1-0.’ I reached across to the tiles and applied pressure in that combination. They certainly didn’t move in and out like phone buttons, but there was some give there nevertheless.

  ‘They moved, Olivia, though that combination didn’t work but they definitely moved.’

  ‘Try 1-7-2-3, the date from the gravestone.’

  After I pushed firmly on the tiles with the new combination, as if they were a key pad, the room was filled by the sound of moving masonry. A rush of musty air came from a door, as the area behind the wash basin swung inwards to reveal a stone staircase spiralling downwards.

  Taking the Austin’s torch from Olivia’s hand, we crossed the divide and headed into the unknown. Shining the light down the stairs, we could see what looked like a cave entrance below. The stairs were carved into the rock, possibly centuries old. Ever wary of slipping and, having to occasionally hold onto one another for balance, one slow step after the other, we descended.

  What, from above, looked like a cave entrance was a short tunnel, at the other end of which stood a wooden door. Despite a key being in its lock, the door pushed open easily to reveal a rocky chamber. Crossing inside, we stopped to scan the space below. The cavity walls appeared to be natural rock and vanished into the distance. On its floor and within our vision with the torch, there was the remnants of an ancient civilisation, perhaps early Picts. Piles of old stones made the outline of what could have been past dwellings and, from our vantage point slightly above, the structures were built round a circle of rock which surrounded a hole.

  ‘That could be our well,’ I said before cautiously entering our forgotten world.

  The short path down was rocky and uneven and our knees and lower backs felt the strain as we battled slipping. ‘Where’s your walking stick when you need one?’ I jested, trying to lighten the enormity of the moment.

  The hole was larger than it appeared from the doorway. Running around its edge and cut into its wall were more stairs, spiralling downwards for about twenty feet before finishing on a small and narrow landing. It was difficult to make out by shining the torch down from above, but there appeared to be a small sized gap carved into the rock face on the ledge. The hole around which the stairs were carved seemed to go down forever and the torchlight just disappeared into the abyss. When Olivia dropped a stone into it, we never heard it hit the bottom. Falling here would be a long and frightening death.

  Standing at the side of the hole and having given up on listening for Olivia’s falling stone, I said, ‘Only one of us can go down; it’s too narrow for both of us. You will have to stay behind, in the dark.’

  ‘That’s a joke; with your balance you won’t even make it halfway down. Anyway you know I’m frightened of the dark.’

  ‘Who’s holding the torch?

  ‘Who forgot to get new batteries? It’s almost dead.’

  ‘Good point, but I still have the torch.’

  ‘Don’t you fall you stubborn old bugger. I’ll be really pissed off if you leave me here all alone in the dark. Stop! Wait! Max, you won’t be able to carry the torch and the Janus Machine if you find it. The steps are too narrow. Give me the torch and I’ll shine the light down for you.’

  Olivia helped me over the edge, holding my hand and then my shoulder until I could lean against the inside wall of what was really a deep pit rather than a well. I inched my way down the stairs. The light from Olivia was marginal and it was more a case of feeling my way than seeing.

  A light breeze circulated up from deep within the hole, not enough to make you fall but sufficient to make the descent a little more challenging. Reaching the platform, the light from Olivia’s torch focused on the small wall cavity which was pitch black inside. I slid my left arm up the wall and reached in. I felt about but found nothing. ‘It’s empty,’ I called up.

  ‘Try looking for a trigger. Maybe there’s something to open another passage?’

  Reaching back inside, it took a bit of scratching about until, finally, I felt something. Getting a purchase, I pulled what may have been a lever and almost instantaneously lost my balance. The narrow hole, in which I had my arm extended, moved downwards. Fortunately it stopped after a matter of feet, revealing a much larger cavity. Taking a second or two to regain my composure, again I searched the space. This time I felt something and, using my fingers to walk around it, gradually pulled a box into view. Although the light was poor, I could see that it was the box that held the Janus Machine.

  ‘It’s here,’ I cried. ‘I’m coming back up.

  Then, it went pitch black and I froze.

  ‘Olivia,’ I called out. ‘Are you all right?’

  The scrap of light came back.

  ‘Sorry, I slipped.’

  Carefully, having removed the box, and keeping my back against the wall, I turned round on the narrow ledge for the ascent.

  I had no choice but to put the box in my left hand and, holding onto its handle, hang it out over the edge of the well. As with the descent, I leaned in against the wall for balance. The weight of the box made the climb difficult and, on a few occasions, I had to swing the box in front of me, putting it on the narrow step so that I could rest. I was relieved when I felt Olivia’s hand take my shoulder, steadying me, and helping me out of the well.

  ‘Hello sweetie, you have led us on a merry chase.’ With these words three flashlights switched on.

  Looking about, I saw Olivia was standing in between two armed men who were on the other side of the well. The woman who’d spoken and the person who must have helped me out of the hole stood a few feet away from me.

  ‘Oh sweetie, the cat got your tongue?’

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Now, that’s better. Manners; I do so often forget them in these times of excitement. I’m Claudia. Over there are my associates Semyon and Vladimir and you are Max and Olivia. Sweetie, you have something that I want.’

  As she spoke I extended my hand over the well, dangling the box above the abyss.

  ‘You British are so melodramatic. Sweetie, you misunderstand me. I need to make myself clear. We don’t want you or anybody else to have it. You can drop it if you like but then, I’m afraid, I will have to kill you. If you give it to me, sweetie, I think we can let you live. This is just business after all.’

  My mind was buzzing. If what she was saying was true, I was in a no-win situation. Stall; I said to myself; give yourself time to think. The weight of the box was getting heavy for my arm and I brought it back to rest beside me.

  ‘How do I know I can trust you—after what you did to Kate and Edward?’

  ‘That was your fault, sweetie. You were about to tell them about Janus and we couldn’t have that. I know, sweetie, because we were listening. All we ever wanted was to follow you to the hiding place and then wait unti
l you recovered Janus for us but, no, you had to go gallivanting around the countryside causing absolute chaos. If you two could have kept your silence, no one would have died.’

  ‘And Windermere? We didn’t tell them anything.’

  ‘That was a silly mistake; my masters were becoming impatient so I thought we could do a good old fashioned snatch-and-grab and extract the information from you. However, you proved far more resourceful that I had expected and we even lost you for a while. Predictably, you eventually turned up at that old Russian car onto which we had put a GPS tracking device, and here we are. A happy little family.

  ‘What about Elinor?’ Olivia asked from across the well.

  ‘I’m sorry, sweetie.’

  With the news of Elinor, the conversation began to stall before I said, ‘I thought you already had one of these?’ I held up the box. ‘I mean it was you that created the so-called superbug spreading in London wasn’t it?’

  ‘Sweetie, you do want to ask a lot of questions. I suppose at your time of life there’s not much else to do. Okay sweetie, yes we made the superbug and no, we don’t have another Janus Machine. You’re so naïve, Max; this is what modern crime looks like. We have our own biological weapons team just as we have our own cyber extortion experts. We make billions hijacking people’s computers or infecting them with ransomware. Typically we ask for hundreds or sometimes thousands of pounds to unlock their encrypted data. With superbugs, if you want to call them that, we can hold entire countries to ransom, for billions. We don’t want anyone to die; to the contrary! The better economically a country is doing, the more money we can extort. You British are so arrogant and stubborn; a stiff upper lip and all that crap. The Yanks paid up but not the Brits. We had already demonstrated our capabilities. Britain knew what we were capable of and we warned them that, next time, the consequences would be severe. Ten billion is all we asked but the price has now gone to thirty billion.