by Nigel Seed
Jim sat in the tunnel and contemplated his options. If he reported the body normally there would be a fuss and would draw attention to his team. An anonymous call to the police would excite even more interest and publicity. Yet he could not leave the body where it lay. Somewhere a family was wondering what had happened to a loved one. He would have to involve the Police Special Branch again and they would need to work up some cover story to explain the grisly discovery. He sighed and stood up. He could not appear in the church unannounced so would have to go back through the secret base and struggle back out of the latrine pit. Not an inviting prospect.
Climbing back up the sloping passageway from the old tunnel Jim came back into the chamber where it looked like the gold had been stored. He made another check to see if there were any other useful traces, but found nothing. He then made his way past the disintegrated door to the chamber where the body lay. He paused as he passed and looked down at the twisted remains. He could hardly imagine what a grenade exploding in here would have been like. He hoped the end had come quickly.
As he went to step over the body he noticed there was something beneath the bony remains of the left hand. He stooped and moved the finger bones gently to one side, to expose a Webley .38 revolver. It must have been well oiled, as the rust on it looked only superficial. Checking the pockets of the tattered jacket, he found a mildewed wallet with the remains of a few old style five pound notes. In the other side of the jacket he found the soggy remains of a police warrant card. So much for Inspector Docherty. He slipped the weapon and the warrant card into his jacket pockets and moved on to the exit into the latrine shaft.
As he struggled around the awkward turn, Geordie and Ivan leaned down, grabbed him by the upper arms and lifted him up out of the hole.
“Wouldn’t want you falling through the hatch and into whatever is still down there, boss.”
“I would have to agree with you on that one. Though it would make the perfect end to a lousy day.”
Helen turned to look at him “Lousy? Why what’s wrong?”
“The gold is gone and there is a body down there and I think it’s the Police Inspector we were told about who was following up a clue. No trace of the people who stole the gold though.”
”The gold is gone? All of it? Are you sure this is the right place?”
“I’m sure. There are some fragments of the gold boxes still down there and they have the Bank of England markings on them.”
Helen seemed to be even more disappointed than the rest of them. With a crestfallen look she turned away and stared into the trees. At that moment her mobile phone rang and she flipped it open to read the caller ID. She glanced at them then walked away, saying she had to check up on her grandfather. She walked into the woods before speaking into the mobile phone. Geordie climbed the tree to retrieve the climbing rope, while Ivan and Jim waited.
“I did get one souvenir, though,” said Jim and handed the revolver to Ivan. “A bit rusty, but it might clean up for a museum or something.”
Helen returned from her call. “He’s fine,” she said, seeming a little more cheerful now “and it’s just about time for a rather nice dinner with some of that good wine.”
Chapter 60
Sitting in the large office in 100 Parliament Street they started their research into how to find a single GWR truck in 1940 among the records of a company that no longer exists. Geordie tried the Internet and almost immediately brightened up.
“It seems we could be in luck. The archives of the Great Western Railway are still around and they’re stored in the Steam Museum in Swindon. Looks like we need to book to go down there for a visit, but, after that, all we have to do is trawl through mounds of dusty paperwork for days on end.”
Jim looked over his computer monitor. “Sounds promising. At least we have a place to start. Can you book us in with whoever runs the place while I go and break the bad news to Sir Richard that he is light about four tons of gold. I think that sort of news needs to be given face to face.”
Jim was gone for a little over an hour. By the time he returned they had an appointment booked with the chief archivist to see the GWR records and hotel bookings were done.
Ivan handed Jim a coffee as he came through the door. “How did it go, boss?”
“Surprisingly well. Sir Richard had no faith that we would find anything, if you recall, so he seems to regard anything we do find as a huge bonus. We have agreed not to tell the police about the theft, or the body, until we have found the fifth load and then they can make their enquiries. But he holds out little hope of recovering anything from the South Cave cache.”
“That’s good. Well, Geordie has arranged for us to visit the archives tomorrow and we have a car booked and ready to go down to Swindon as soon as you say the word.”
“No reason to hang about here. Let’s get some lunch and go. Geordie are you ready?”
“Sure am, boss. I have all the address details and the phone number for the museum. They’ll be expecting us first thing in the morning.”
The archives turned out to be housed in a modern, well-run facility and were nothing like the dusty stacks of paper of their imaginings. Geordie, with his knowledge of the age of steam railways, took the lead and soon the archive personnel were putting themselves to considerable trouble to help narrow the search. Even with their help, trawling through considerable amounts of paper looking for a single authorisation that might not even have been filed was no trivial task.
The first day passed in just trying to work out where to look and the second was not much more productive. By the end of the third day, hopes of finding anything of use were fading. Only discipline and a lack of alternative ideas brought them back on the fourth day, to start grinding their collective way through the paper once again. Four hours into the day, Jim was ready to give up and called a break.
“Come on you two, time for a walk round the museum to straighten out your backs and get some fresh air.”
“Just finish this box boss and be right with you,” said Ivan as Geordie stood up from behind his latest pile of box files.
“Are you sure you’re not building a fort over there, Geordie?”
“It’s beginning to feel a bit that way, boss. The temptation is to settle down for a little kip behind the piles.”
“Well I’ll be damned!”
“It’s OK Ivan I didn’t really mean it.”
“Not that. I think I’ve found it. Look at this.”
Ivan held out the large ledger he had been reading through. His finger pointed to a line of neat writing in what was obviously the work of a fountain pen, like most of the entries. The clerks of the time had prided themselves on the neatness of their ledgers, which had been a considerable help to the search.
Jim took the ledger and read the entry that concerned a vehicle being authorized to travel away from its depot and the issue of fuel ration cards to allow the journey to London and back. The dates fitted. Ivan had found the clue that might identify the truck involved.
“Where was the vehicle from? Does the driver get named? Anything?”
“Not much detail. But the ledger itself might be the clue. According to the front cover this book was from the maintenance yard that serviced the Box Tunnel, whatever that is.”
“Never heard of it. How about you, Geordie?”
“Never heard of it? Really? It’s a tunnel under Box Hill, just under two miles long, another of Brunel’s engineering triumphs. The stone they carved out of there was used in a lot of the fine houses in Bath, I think. There’s even a story that on one day a year the sun shines right through the tunnel and that it’s on Brunel’s birthday.”
Jim smiled at his two grinning soldiers. “I think we can delay that break a little. Ivan and I will do some Internet searching about Box Tunnel. Geordie, can you see what the experts here know about it? We’ll meet up in the café in the museum to compare notes in an hour.”
Ivan and Jim moved to the computer terminals while Geordi
e went away to talk railways with the enthusiasts who knew so much about God’s Wonderful Railway.
An hour later, they re-joined in the café and found a table away from other museum visitors.
Jim was the last to put down his tray and sit down. “Right then, what have we got?”
“Quite a lot really. The tunnel is fully operational with the main London to Bristol line running through it. It’s wider than other tunnels in the country because The GWR initially used a wider gauge track and that left more space between the tracks when they standardized. Because of the traffic through the tunnel we are not allowed in there for a look round, at least not officially.”
“Ivan and I found a lot of stuff on the Internet. Some of it pretty weird and a lot of it quite surprising. Ivan, do you want to do the weird stuff?”
“Love to. Well, it seems that the UFO believers think that there are captured flying saucers hidden in tunnels under the hill. A sort of British Area 51. And then there are others who think there are steam trains hidden under there ready for when the oil runs out. It seems that they think a lot of locomotives were sent for scrapping, as the diesels came in, but there is no record of that scrapping actually taking place. From that, they have worked out the engines are hidden and that Box Hill is the only place that is big enough to hide so many.”
Geordie smiled. “The archive folk were telling me that one. They think it’s really funny.”
Jim sat forward. “On the other side of the coin there is some surprising stuff that really is under there. We know that large ammunition dumps were built there during the war to protect them from bombing and an aero engine factory was also set up there as a back-up in case the one in Bristol was destroyed. In the end they never brought it into use, but the caverns they dug are still there. There was also at least one communication facility. In all, there are supposed to be about eighty miles of galleries and tunnels under there. Could be an ideal place for the Auxiliary Units to hide a small room.”
“Could be but where do we start?”
“Sitting on top of it all is Rudloe Manor. It used to be RAF Rudloe Manor and it is still run by the Ministry of Defense, though it is not quite clear what they do there nowadays. I think it is a pretty fair guess that if there is an easy access point to this complex it is going to be through there. With the PM’s letter as authority we should be able to get some cooperation and if not, we’ll find another way in.”
“It´s probably going to be pretty mucky down there so maybe we need combat uniforms and caving helmets again?”
“I suspect you are right, Ivan, we can get changed before we go and see the base commander in Rudloe Manor. It might make him or her more inclined to help us anyway.”
Chapter 61
Geordie pulled the car to a stop outside the security post of Rudloe Manor and wound the window down to speak to the guard. All three men showed their military identity cards and were surprised to be refused entry. Jim climbed out of the car and put his beret on before walking into the guardroom. A uniformed RAF policeman looked up from the newspaper on his desk.
“Yes sir. How can I help?”
“I am Major Wilson and I am here to speak to your base commanding officer.”
“Do you have an appointment, sir?
“No, this has been rather a last minute decision to come here.”
“That could be a problem then, sir. The CO doesn’t see anybody without an appointment and we are under strict instructions not to let anyone in who just turns up. Sorry, sir.”
“Could you phone his office for me then and see if he will make an exception for me?”
“I can, sir, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up. He’s very particular about this.”
The sergeant picked up the phone and dialled. Jim waited as the sergeant explained what was needed. He shook his head and handed the phone to Jim.
“Major Wilson, who am I speaking to?”
A very officious female voice replied, “I am the station commander’s personal assistant and as I have explained to the security man, the commander is very busy. You will have to make an appointment and come back another day.”
“That’s not really an option I am carrying out a classified task and I need the assistance of this base. Could you ask the …..”
“I am really not interested in your problems. Write in and make an appointment.”
Jim found himself listening to a dialling tone. The phone had been put down on him. He took the direct dialling number for the commandant’s phone from the sergeant, passed the hand set back and without another word left the guardroom. As he walked back towards the car he pulled his mobile phone from his pocket. This could be quite amusing.
Having made his call he checked his watch and then opened the passenger door of the car and sat down. He watched the road into the camp quietly and within minutes was rewarded by the sight of a car accelerating towards the guardroom. He continued watching as a very flustered officer jumped out, hatless and almost ran into the guardroom. Seconds later the police sergeant emerged from the door and pointed Jim’s car out to the officer who walked swiftly across to it.
Jim watched him approach, but made no move to get out. He waited until the officer arrived at the car before winding down his window and looking at him.
“Can I help you?”
“Major Wilson? I have just had a call from the Chief of the General Staff. I am to give you whatever assistance you need.”
“I thought you might change your mind. Very good of you to offer to help,” Jim said, trying hard to avoid sounding sarcastic and just failing.
“Perhaps you would like to follow me back to the Manor and we can discuss your needs?”
“Certainly. Geordie, I’ve always wanted to say this. ‘Follow that car.’”
They drove into the base and followed the car in front up to a very impressive old manor house. There were few signs of military activity, just a couple of drab Army vehicles parked to one side of the building. They walked up the steps at the front of the building and into the wide foyer.
“Sir,” said Ivan, “do you have an armory? We’d just like to drop in there while you are talking to the Major.”
“Of course. My PA will show you the way,” said the commandant, indicating the young woman who sat behind a desk.
The lady in question stood up without a word and walked around the desk. She was careful not to make eye contact with Jim as she passed him and he noticed her ears were bright red with embarrassment. Geordie and Ivan followed her out of the building and to the small flat roofed building she showed them. She left them there and hurried back to her office without a word.
Back in the commandant’s office, Jim sat across the desk from a man who was still clearly stunned at being phoned by the most senior military officer of the British Armed Forces.
“Well then, Major. How can I help?”
“I need to get into the tunnel system below this hill. I assume you have an entry point? I would also like copies of all the tunnel maps you have and a guide, to start with, if you have one.”
“We don’t allow anybody down into the tunnels, there are still sections that are classified and some of the tunnels have not been maintained for years.”
“Don’t worry about that, we will accept the risk. If a tunnel falls on us it’s our own damn silly fault.”
“We still don’t allow people down there, I’m afraid.”
“Do you mind if I use your phone?”
“What for?”
“I tell you what,” said Jim, removing the Prime Minister’s authority letter from his pocket, “you read that while I phone the Ministry of Defense and arrange for you to be posted to the Outer Hebrides. OK?”
The startled officer read the letter while Jim waited patiently. He watched as the man’s face turned red and sweat stood out on his forehead. It was clear he did not want to leave this very pleasant station for one where the icy cold winds blew almost constantly.
“I’ll have the map
s brought here immediately and one of the guides will be at your disposal as long as you need him. Is there anything else I can do?”
“Yes, we would like an office to work from while we are here.”
“I will arrange that straight away. Anything else you need, please let me know.”
Chapter 62
A young Army corporal wearing a Royal Signals cap badge in his beret was allocated to them as a guide. He spent an hour briefing them on the complicated series of maps they had been given, showing the extensive tunnel system beneath their feet. Danger areas where tunnels were becoming unsafe were marked, as were areas that were still in use for classified activity.
“So then, Corporal,” said Ivan, “just how much of this tunnel system do you know?”
“Only a part of it and most of that is in the upper levels. We have been warned off the lower levels as they are supposed to be getting dangerous.”
Geordie smiled. “So are you saying you haven’t been down to where the UFOs are stored or the park for the Steam Engines?”
“I’ve never seen either of those, although there is a narrow gauge railway line that served the old Central Ammunition Depot. You can see on the map there where that runs. I’ve been told that there is still a small locomotive and a couple of flat cars on the old tracks somewhere.”
Jim picked up his caver’s helmet from the desk and tossed the remaining two to his men. “I think we’d better put a couple of spare battery packs in our pockets. No telling how long this might take. Geordie, have you got the water bottles?”
“Yes and a pocketful of energy bars in case we are not back in time for dinner.”
The corporal led them out of the Manor House and across the compound to what looked like a truncated pyramid covered in grass. The concrete pathway led to a pair of steel doors with a large brass padlock. He opened the lock and heaved the first door open, to reveal an elevator.
“Now, I wasn’t expecting that,” said Jim.
“All mod cons here, sir. Wait till you get underground, people are usually surprised by their first look at the tunnels too.”