by Stan Mason
‘My friends,’ he announced, as the heads of the others turned towards him, before sipping from a mug of tea in the light of the head-torches. ‘Our problem is still with us. The situation has worsened. If we do not do something to help ourselves, the authorities will crush us. They refused to grant us asylum. As such, we are refugees with no country. The escape to South America failed and we are in serious trouble with the authorities. They are using us like pawns and may even return us all to Russia. If not, they’ll use us like slaves in this mind and there is nothing we can do about it. We may all end up like Polykoff. Does anyone have any suggestions?’
‘You’re right,’ confirmed Tania. ‘If we don’t do something we’ll rot here in this misbegotten country. Even prison would be better than being send down here every day.’
There was a general murmur of support from the other students and Josef nodded with satisfaction. Britain had been their first choice when they left Russia; now it was the last! But what could they do now? After the exodus incident, the police were charged to watch their activities day and night. Any plan devised would need to be subversive and brooked danger.
‘I have an idea,’ suggested a student named Grigor. ‘Why don’t we go to the American Embassy and asked for political asylum there.’
‘That means we would have to go to London,’ advanced Peter.
‘Let’s go there by night,’ continued Grigor, not wishing to concede the idea without a fight.
‘All of us?’ guffawed Josef. ‘How do we do that?’
‘The Americans are the enemies of Russia. They’d be delighted t grant us asylum.’
‘Don’t you know anything at all, Grigor,’ snapped Josef as he tired of the suggestion. ‘In the world of spies, the Americans exchange people caught in the international net for those of their own agents. We would end up in Moscow exchanged for a number of American agents imprisoned there.’
There was silence for a while as they considered their dilemma until a student named Katrina presented an original idea.
‘We ought to split up into five different sections,’ she advanced. ‘As a single group, we make it too easy for them to manoeuvre us.’
There were both murmurings of disapproval as well as some of approval until Josef made the decision.
‘I think Katrina’s right,’ he added strongly. ‘We’re too big as a group and that has been our downfall. We need to split into smaller sections.’
‘Who wants to join me. I want two people only. Then, if we want to, we can all meet up, maybe in another country, in, say, two years’ time.’ There was a roar as a number of students raised their hands and the matter became settled within a few minutes.
***
Horace Trevelyan sat with his back to the wall of the mine drinking tea from a very large mug. He had been observing the Russians since they were first brought into Botallack, noticing their reluctance to work in the mine. However it was not surprising since they were forced labour. He disliked putting pressure on young people but he had been told that his days at Botallack would end if they did not continued to work there., As a result, he directed them to fulfil the clean up programme in preparation for the delivery of the nuclear waste while monitoring them as much as possible. To him they were a strange group of people. Always talking loudly in Russian and getting excited at the slightest thing. They seemed particularly disturbed at having to work below the seabed. Cornish miners had been doing so for nearly two centuries and he recognised that the group felt skittish about it, but they would soon come to terms with it. He watched them babbling and arguing for a while becoming confused when they started to break up into separate groups. Trevelyan mused on the fact that they had stolen a boat to sail to South America, He had only been out of Cornwall once... and never beyond Devon. As far as he was concerned, they were all stark raving mad!
After the tea break, the Russians returned to their work. Despite his criticism of their behaviour and their actions, The old man could not fault their effectiveness and efficiency in the way they worked. They were at least as good as many professional miners operating at these levels. In his opinion, their labours were commendable albeit extremely noisy for, as they toiled, they sang Russian folk songs. The old man didn’t really mind. In time, people came and went but the mine was the most important thing to preserve.
At lunchtime, the students split into their newly-formed segments, each one whispering confidentially in Russian. The new concept offered them a plethora of options hitherto unconsidered. Small sections of students had far greater opportunities to devise separate plans of their own than the group in total. It stood to reason that the police would have great difficulty watch8ing five different sets of people than one single group. One segment decided to resurrect the plan to escape to South America. Another discussed the idea of travelling to London to seek political asylum at the American Embassy. A third deliberated on the idea that they could stay in Britain if the others left, alleviating all the pressure being applied to them. Another team found themselves at loggerheads from the start while the last one maintain a dialogue but were uncertain as to which way to go. Ivan would have united them and led them to a single goal if he had been there, but he was not! Therefore the Russians had no leader of significance to guide them in their hour of need. Trevelyan watched them carefully, shaking his head from side to side. ‘All mad!’ he told himself with conviction. ‘All completely mad!’
As soon as the luncheon recess ended, the students returned to work. It was becoming difficult to proceed now because this part of the mine had been neglected for such a long time. The distance at which they had to carry the rocks that littered the way was beginning to stretch. Their task was seriously hampered by the fact that the track had been used for running the wagons and was in a state of disrepair. At the same time, the temperature began to rise. Eventually they came to a dead end and Trevelyan explained to them that there had been a rock fall some time in the past. They tried to clear the way by dislodging the lower blocks with crowbars but the granite had impacted on itself and had melded as it decayed.
‘We’ll have to use explosives,’ the old man told them. ‘It’s the only way.’
‘If there was a fall of rock, surely it’s unwise to use explosives,’ said Josef with concern.
‘Considerin’ ‘e ‘asn’t been worked since 1914, ‘e be as sound as a bell. Most other mines collapse and be waterlogged. Not this one!’
‘What do you think?’ Josef asked the others.
‘He should know what he’s doing.’ remarked Peter, shrugging his shoulders aimlessly. ‘The quicker we finish, the faster we can get away from here.’
‘Okay, old man,’ agreed Josef reluctantly. ‘We’ll blast!’
Trevelyan opened a knapsack slung over his shoulders and removed some sticks of dynamite.
‘Let me look at that,’ demanded Grigor who knew something about explosives. He took a stick of dynamite and examined it carefully, screwing up his eyes to read the information on the label. ‘What do you call this?’ he asked eventually.
The old man looked at him a trifle confused. ‘What do you mean?’
‘This isn’t any good. Did you know that? The major ingredient in explosives is ammonium nitrate chosen because of its low explosion temperature. Most explosives contain a cooling agent such as sodium chloride... common salt... or ammonium chloride to prevent the head of the explosion from igniting underground gases... to avoid underground fires or secondary explosions,. The content is usually sixty-eight per cent ammonium nitrate, twenty per cent sodium chloride, ten per cent of TNT and two per cent of powdered bark. The information on the label is very different. It’s for surface blasting not for underground mines. It’s not safe down here.’
‘Well it be the dynamite ‘e’ll ‘ave to use ‘cause it be the only explosive down ‘ere.’ The old man sounded quite adamant.
; ‘For Heaven’s sake, let’s get on with it,’ pressed Peter, becoming impatient with the delay.
Guided by Trevelyan’s instructions, they made a number of cuts in the delinquent rocks with the crowbars, pushing the sticks of dynamite into the holes.
‘They need tamping,’ ordered the old man. ‘You need to push the dynamite hard into the holes.
‘No!’ cut in Grigor urgently. ‘Not this explosive! It’s not safe!’
The warning came too late however for Josef had raised the crowbar, driving it deeply into one of the holes with great force. One of the most horrifying disasters in life relates to an explosion in a mine. The tremendous noise is often unheard by those trapped because it stuns and deafens them. After that, a long period of hollow silence reigns. The air become polluted extensively with smoke and dust and total blackness prevails. The area of incarceration usually remains confined to a small space and a great deal of coughing can be heard from the miners affected. If one is injured, the pain is not felt immediately and if one is unharmed, there is a period of confusion such as that when waking from a deep sleep. At first, a leader comes to examine the bodies of fellow miners, then there is a count of the dead. After that, an assessment takes place to determine escape by moving rock and digging out, coupled with the dread that once the oxygen content is used up everyone there will die. At this point, the thoughts of loved ones comes to mind, while helplessness fills the heart as a constant reminder of the insignificance of man against the powerful forces of nature.
***
It was precisely three o’clock that afternoon when Anna felt a strange feeling of foreboding. She became faint and almost fell into a faint which would have caused her to collapse. She was preparing the evening meal and the vegetable were set out on the kitchen table ready to the peeled, washed, sliced, salted and cooked. As she picked up a bowl of potatoes, the world began to swim before her eyes She staggered and reeled towards a stool, holding on to it to regain her balance, breathing deeply to try to clear her head. The sensation soon passed and she stared white -faced out of the window. It was obvious that the misadventure in the Atlantic Ocean had taken its toll on her health. The dizzy spell was probably a symptom of delayed shock coupled with fatigue and she had appeared to recover too quickly from her immersion in the sea. There was no other reason to make her feel unwell to such extent. The preparation of the dinner became distant from her mind as she continued to stare out of the window unseeing the trees, the fields or the hedges laid out before her. Then a new sensation began to ravage her system as though she had suddenly become the host of something evil. It created a feeling of malaise that she had never experienced before, riveting her to the spot where she stood. Her mind, heart and stomach seemed to become tied with the same knot while her legs became weak and her blood froze. At the same time, she suffered an unusual sense of weightlessness. How long she remained in that position she could not recall and she might well have continued to do so in suspended animation but for one reason... the baby stopped crying! He had wailed since the early hours of the morning as if to express something of great importance of which he knew but was unable to relate. Then, suddenly, he stopped. Her feelings returned to normality immediately as though a magic wand had been passed over her head and, as the awful sensations left her, she picked up the child and cuddled him. Whatever the problem for both of them, it had vanished. Within seconds, the distant wail of a police siren cut through the air like a lonesome banshee. She didn’t realise the import of the noise... or the impact it would have on her life. The villagers knew immediately however, and they raced to the mine in the hope that they might be able to assist.
Inside the mine there was total confusion. Once the smoke had cleared, Grigo adjusted his headlamp and reviewed the situation. They were located in a confined space, blocked in front by the rock from the previous collapse while the roof of the mine had caved in behind them. They were well and truly trapped! Josef, Peter and Trevelyan had been blasted to pieces but the rest were in reasonable condition. With the exception of Tania who was struck in the eye by a piece of flying rock. There was some moaning by another student who was injured before they settled down to assess their position,
‘We need to try to dig our way out,’ suggested Grigor in despair. ‘The work will take our minds off out dilemma. Who’s willing to make a start with me?’
Katrina raised her hand. ‘I’ll help you, Grigor,’ she offered readily.
A volley of responses echoed in the small space as all the headlamps were turned on to examine their prison. There was a large brown rock in the centre of the roof and Grigor stared at it seriously.
‘The explosion caused a tremendous fall on both sides of the level. It might take many days to move it. It’s possible that this brown rock is the trapdoor to the next level. What do you say?’
‘I hope the old man was telling the truth... that we’re not under the Atlantic Ocean,’ returned Katrina with concern.
They proceeded to establish a platform by grouping a number of rocks together and hacked at the edges of the brown rock in the roof with the three crowbars in their possession. The main problem that faced them was the limitation of the oxygen supply. For two hours they laboured in shifts with perspiration pouring off their bodies... each shift becoming shorter than the last one due to fatigue, the scarcity of oxygen and the foulness of the air. At one stage, they all lay still in the dark, preserving the energy in the batteries of their headlamps, as one of the students play tunes on a harmonica he had brought with him. The they started to sing to try to lift their spirits. Katrina began to cry which stimulated Grigor into action. He turned on his headlamp, got to his feet and attacked the brown rock again, prising it from one side to the other until, aided by two others, the large rock crashed to the floor, Jubilantly, thrust his crowbar into the gap, using all his strength, There was a desperate urgency to proceed now as they began to suffer from a deficiency of oxygen. Such considerations were of little value, however, for dislodging the brown rock became the root a new major disaster. As Grigor plunged his crowbar upwards, the Atlantic Ocean began to flood the chamber rapidly. Trevelyan had lied to them... they were working under water.
The students stared at each other with fear showing on their faces as the water cascaded down. Not one of them said a word, or cried or prayed and they stood up on their feet and held hands as the salt sea water moved up to their chins and then above, drowning the life out of each one of them.
The local people knew exactly what had happened when they saw the large air bubbles some way out to sea. The mine had flooded and everyone on that level would have perished. Anna joined the villagers at the main gate to the mine, clutching little Ivan in her arms, She asked them hopefully of the chances of rescue but Cornish people are not renowned for their tact and diplomacy and she returned home knowing that they had all died. Numbness spread throughout her body but this tie it was a permanent sensation. Of all the Russians who had fled to the West, only Ivan and Anna survived with little Ivan in tow.
Chapter Nineteen
Shortly after the Securities Department received the letter from Phyllis Roberts relating the fraud from the dormant accounts, Sadler received a summons from the bank’s Head Office without being told any reason for his attendance., Many banking colleagues would have been highly delighted to make the trip on the assumption that promotion was in sight but Sadler knew why he had been summoned. The Board would run through the details of their investigation and would ask him to give his reasons as to whether he was guilty or not. They would demand the return of the money or threaten him with arrest and subsequent imprisonment. They knew what he had done; he knew what he had done. The only feasible solution was a compromise by both sides. His appointment at the bank would cease and he would be asked for his resignation... that much was certain! Therefore the issue rested on whether or not he could repay the money he had stolen. The fact which saddened him was that he w
as back to square one again.
He entered the swing doors at the front of the enormous building, feeling his feet sink into the plush red and black Axminster carpet, and proceeded to the main lifts. When he entered the room on the third floor designated for the inquisition, they were all waiting for him... two high-ranking bank executives named Mitchell and Coward., the Chief Inspector ot the Securities Department and a secretary ready to record the minutes of the interview. Sadler sat down to face Mitchell’s opening gambit.
‘Mr. Sadler, I have to inform you that we have received information concerning activities related to certain accounts maintained at your branch,’ he began firmly. We’ve invited you to discuss the matter without any prejudice or bias without regard to any inferences or allegations. You may wish to have an observer on your behalf if you so wish.’
‘I’m not a fool, Mr. Mitchell, retorted the banker. ‘Can we get on with it!’
Mitchell stared at him over his spectacles/ ‘I hope we’re not going to become abusive,’ he challenged.
‘I would have preferred it if you had told me why I was being summoned here. As it’s clearly relating to the dormant accounts, I could have told you all about it. A direct approach often resolves a lot of problems.’
Coward decided to enter the fray at that point. ‘Are you telling us that you transferred money from the dormant accounts into another account for your own personal use?’
‘Let’s be absolutely clear about this,’ returned Sadler sharply. ‘
‘You say there’s no prejudice or bias but I fear you’ve already prejudged this case. I never used any of it for my personal use.’ He knew he was lying but he had to make a case.
‘Who transferred the money,’ pressed Coward with a puzzled expression on his face.
‘Myself and the writer of that letter to the Securities Department’