Salby Damned (9 page)

Charles replied, "Dr. Shepherd, Evelyn, was one of my star pupils having come from a medical background; she has a thirst for knowledge, always wanting to study all fields of medicine, as I recall. If she is alive, I have no doubt that she will do her utmost to relay a message to us somehow, and if she is not in the facility, then we really need to find her. Of course, the access point inside her home has a palm reader and retinal scanner assigned to Evelyn, so without her, gaining entry will be much more difficult."

"As I understand it," Richard began, "the lift shaft entrance is reinforced concrete with lots of safety measures built in. There's considerable depth too. Let's hope we can find Evelyn or she is able to reach a safe place and make contact. For now, we'll continue with the investigation here. You should get some rest tonight, Charles; we leave for Salby installation tomorrow morning 0900 hours sharp. We'll be flying in by helicopter, and it's highly classified so my team will be at your disposal. If you would like to catch up with your colleagues and give them their ID cards, please do. They all have level nine access, so you shouldn't have any problems around the site. I'll see you tomorrow morning bright and breezy."

With a handshake, Richard left Charles to finish eating. Richard had some pressing matters of his own that demanded his attention.

***

As he finished the last of his food, Charles thought about Evelyn, hoping beyond hope that she was alive. He had known her father, a brilliant medical pioneer of his day, and had watched her grow up. He was proud to have been asked to help her along her career path in medicine, and over the years, she had become the daughter he had never had.

Clearing his plate and disposing of the remaining food, he headed for the wellhead team to catch up on progress. After checking in with the team, he visited with Dr. Sighal for a report on his findings. Finally, some much-needed rest would be in order.

***

It was a short walk to the wellhead site. Charles put on bio-suit and mask in the allocated de-kit area before entering. The operation to send the drone down for investigation was well under way. The drone was not unlike the space rover vehicle on Mars, smaller but highly sophisticated, with an array of recording and measuring equipment and a mechanical arm, capable of manipulating small objects. Powered by both rechargeable cells and an umbilical cord operated from the surface, it had a range of about three miles, ample for the one-mile-deep shaft and enough to reach the impact site. Forward-facing infrared cameras showed up the fracking play once it began to level off horizontally, with the sensors picking up the chemicals that had been used. Dr. Simmons had been busy analysing the data returned from the drone so far and was the first to greet Charles on his arrival.

"Welcome to the wellhead," she said, with a smile barely visible through the full-face visor.

"The drone has sent back air samples every hundred feet of descent. Now that it has reached the point where it will be travelling horizontally, it'll be under its own power and should be able to take material samples to bring back up. So far, the air readings aren't registering any viral presence."

"Good work, Kate, but don't take any chances. Have you found any trace of gas yet, and how far has it got to go until it reaches the site of explosion?"

Kate replied quickly, "Well, at the present speed, and allowing for samples to be taken, the drone should reach the explosion site in around three hours, assuming the tunnel didn't cave in before that. That's highly probable, given the amount of explosive it must have taken to cause so much damage to the facility. There are trace elements of methane, which indicate pockets of gas; it could have amplified the effect of the explosives. All we can do is try though. What will happen to the wellhead operation once we're done here?"

Charles replied, "It is likely that it will be shut down and the wellhead borehole will be filled in. I'm not certain of that though, it's just an educated guess. The government isn't likely to risk any further incident close to one of its own facilities once the dust settles on this one. Not sure why they allowed the risk in the first place."

At that point, Dr. Hans Goedricht entered, approaching the pair and waving a greeting in the cumbersome bio-suit.

"Welcome to the wellhead, Charles. So far, the chemicals picked up by the drone are 99% water. However, there are trace elements of sodium chloride, ethylene glycol, sodium potassium chlorate, isopropanol and minimal amounts of borate salts, all of which are standard chemicals used for shale play boring, when combined with either sand or alloy filings. In this case, they used sand. As you know, this helps to keep the fractures in the rock open so that the gas can pool and make its way to the surface."

"Good work, Hans. Any traces of explosives yet? The drone might not be close enough to pick them up yet, as far as I understand it."

"Right now, the readings indicate miniscule amounts of 2,3-dimethyl also 2,3-dinitrobutane, an identifying agent used in C4 plastic explosive. We'll keep monitoring the readings, which should get stronger the closer the drone gets. For all intents and purposes though, that's the compound used. Combined with even a small trace of methane gas, the resulting detonation would have been sufficient to cause structural damage to the underground facility."

With the technical assessment from Hans confirming what was becoming apparent, Charles wondered what the company executives would make if their findings.

"Kate, Hans, brilliant work. Can you compile a report for me and get some stills of the detonation area when the drone gets there? I will be out for most of the day tomorrow, but you can reach me on the secure line. If you need to call, go see the radio ops lads over at the signals Land Rover. They'll patch you through. Oh, and be sure you get some shut-eye; it'll be a long day tomorrow again."

"Yes, Charles, we'll keep in touch."

Charles made his way back to catch up with Dr. Sighal, after removing the awkward but necessary bio-suit, and returning it to its storage place.

*******

The three executives from the SGFC waited for the door to close behind Lieutenant Colonel Connell, before all trying to speak at once. Mr. Snape, the slight-built, pale-looking assistant executive officer spoke first.

"Quiet!" he shouted, in a tone and with a force not befitting his build.

"You heard the man. What we need to do is damage limitation. Find those laptops and fast. If we can get to them before they do, we might just come out of this without long prison sentences. Meriam, do they know about the internal inquiry into Garrett?"

The slim, fresh-faced woman in her early thirties leafed through the files on the table in front of her before offering a response, looking at the two men in turn.

"As far as we know, they have no idea of the company investigation into Brin Garrett. We need to keep it that way too because if they latch onto that, we'll all be on laundry duty in the nearest prison for a long time."

"We should have acted sooner," the chief engineer said.

He was speaking his mind against his boss for probably the first time. Deciding that he wasn't going to take the blame, he pressed his point.

"We knew he was up to something. His lifestyle had changed dramatically over the last few weeks. We should have monitored his site activity for any irregularities. That's what they'll say. You know that, don't you?"

He looked directly at his boss.

"Calm down and change your tone, Mr. Goulding. I'm not sure I appreciate being spoken to in that manner. Let's just all calm down and think this through so that we can come up with a plan to minimise the damage to the company and ourselves. After all, Mr. Brin Garrett is currently very dead, chilling out a few feet from here, and won't be saying anything for the foreseeable future. We need to find the two missing laptops; then we can blame the renegade Chief Garrett. As CEO, you see, you have to be able to find the good in any bad situation.”

The two executives could sense the despicable man patting himself on the back as he spoke. His two colleagues nodded tentatively, not completely convinced. For now, they would need to go along with it.

***

In the waiting room at Dishforth Base, it seemed to take forever to process them. Every so often, a door would open and a smartly dressed administration officer would pass through, without a word, going about their business. Exhausted after an early start and too much excitement in one day, the kids slept on the chairs beside Nathan. He watched the children breathing peacefully in sleep and stroked Holly's hair gently, as her head rested on his thigh, a makeshift pillow it seemed. Again, he wondered about the children's parents and hoped they had made it to safety, either here or at another military base.

There was still no sign of Evie, and it must have been a couple of hours since they had arrived in the truck at the gates.

They'll come for us soon. Boy, are my eyes heavy.

Shortly afterwards, a smartly dressed officer entered with a prim-looking junior NCO following close behind. A corporal, he thought, but he couldn't quite glimpse her military decorations. Carefully, Nathan held the little girl’s head while he slid sideways to stand, resting the sleeping child gently back on the cushioned seat. The officer motioned to him, not wanting to wake the children.

"Sorry about the delay, Sir,” the newcomer whispered, “I can appreciate that it is not easy with youngsters. I've two of my own, roughly the same age. I am Captain Devon, Royal Logistics, in charge of allocation and admittance here on the base. I understand that you are ex-forces yourself?"

Nathan spoke softly, "Many moons ago, Captain, I was in the Royal Electrical Mechanical Engineers, a sergeant, but I haven't seen service with the REME for over ten years now. Have you spoken to Evie? She came in with us and was taken away quite a while ago. It's just that the children have been asking for her, you see."

"My apologies, sir, I am not authorised to disclose any information regarding other personnel or operations. I will, however, pass on your concerns to Lieutenant Dr. Shepherd should I see her. I'm sure she will find you in due course," he said, in a tone that implied that Nathan shouldn't push further.

The young officer continued, "Now, if you can wake the children, we have a crèche facility and refreshments waiting for you. You'll be able to remain with them until they are settled in. Hopefully, it won't be too distressing. Other parents have been allocated childcare duties on a round-the-clock basis and Corporal Simms here will escort you. Anyone with military skills or a firearms licence will be requisitioned and will assist us with base guard duty.  Later on, I'll come and find you. We'll need to get you to the armoury for refresher weapons training and some kit, but first, please get yourself freshened up and see to the children; no immediate rush."

The captain gave the briefest of smiles, turned, and left the room, leaving the young corporal to wait for the children to be woken. Nathan woke Holly first, and after a stretch, she came for a hug, looking towards her brother, a little groggy from the sleep.

"Is Mommy here, Naffam?" she asked, quietly. Picking her up, stroking the hair from her face, and tucking it behind each ear, he spoke softly to her.

"Not yet, sweetheart, but we really only just got here, so plenty of time to look yet."

He felt the nod from Holly at his chest as he bent to wake young Tom. With a wide yawn and a full arm stretch, Tom pushed himself up.

"I'm hungry," was the first thing he said, which made Nathan laugh.

"You're always hungry, young man," he replied, smiling at him. "Listen, this is Corporal Simms. She's really nice and is going to show us where we can get some food, and then she’ll take us to other children. Now, I'll be there for a while, but later I have to go and help to keep us all safe, so I'll come back and check on you two when I'm finished later tonight. You must do as the people ask, though, and be really good. What do you say we go see what there is to eat?"

The base was huge, and they stared in awe at times at the sheer scale of the operation. With a small hand in each of his own, Nathan walked with Holly and Tom, following Corporal Simms past the entrance gates. Numerous troops and armed civilians patrolled. The tank still sat formidably inside the gate, a monolithic sentry, ever ready.

"Steady now, lad! Keep an eye on where we are going," Nathan reminded Tom, who stumbled as he admired his surroundings, captivated by the heavy equipment.

***

They approached three main hangars, all now empty of aircraft. The first had been turned into an activity centre and crèche, caring for children both with and without parents. The second was the central cookhouse, with a huge marquee extension, from where the base catering would be performed. Finally, the last hangar was a sleeping area for the very old or the very young. For everyone else, a sea of dorm tents covered every spare space within the fenced, heavily guarded perimeter.

Army Land Rovers ran between the rows of tents, distributing high-energy supplements and food to families with small children. Tens of thousands had made it to safety, and everyone was given a role. Anyone with a firearms licence or previous military service took their place on guard duty. Skilled men and women, such as electricians, builders, childcare workers and nurses, were all utilised; chefs or cooks were given kitchen-based duties, and everyone else was given warehouse duties. Raiding party teams, who would head out seeking replenishment for high-demand items like food and raw materials, delivered a constant stream of supplies; they raided shopping centres or abandoned stores.

Sporadic and prolonged bursts of gunfire from around the perimeter made the children jump, and Nathan squeezed their little hands, a reminder that he was there.

***

They arrived at the cookhouse hangar and noticed there were orderly queues as people waited to be served. A constant team of military and other staff worked around the clock, cooking and clearing, and preparing and sorting new stock. While the food was pretty basic, sausage and some eggs, beans or tinned corned beef hash, it was food to feed many, and the children didn't complain, simply choosing what they fancied and settling for it. Afterwards, Nathan found some sweets that had been returned to him from the truck.

As they walked away from the cookhouse, looking out over the massive expanse of the airfield, they could see that oil drum fires had been lit. People gathered around them, sitting, talking, and telling their own stories of the events that had led them there.

Taking Tom and Holly to the crèche area, he again met Corporal Simms who accompanied them to the play arena. Adult volunteers held drawing and craft classes. There were musical games, loom band tables, and some liberated board games and toys for smaller children. The engineers had built slides, swings, and a rope-climbing wall, with supervised sessions for the more adventurous kids.

Showing them around, the Corporal guided them to a table where children sat drawing and colouring, indicating for Tom and Holly to join in. Nathan reassured the children that he would return. Only then did they reluctantly join the other children. Nathan watched as they began to chatter and make friends.

"You'll be bedding down next door. Lieutenant Shepherd put in a personal request for you to be kept together."

"Thank you, Corporal, please extend my thanks to Evie, I mean, Lieutenant Shepherd."

"Yes, Sir, I will. Captain Devon will be coming soon to take you to the armoury."

Nathan sat watching the children draw. Every so often, they would hold up their paper for him to see what they had done. With a smile and a double thumbs-up, he encouraged them to continue. They seemed happy enough, given the circumstances. He was sure it wouldn't be too long before they were washed and found a place to sleep, given the volunteer survivors available. A short time later, Captain Devon approached him.

"Are you ready for the armoury induction and a refresher of your weapons training?" As the Captain spoke, he handed Nathan an ID badge with the number seven printed below his picture.

"You'll need this, Sergeant Cross. It's a level seven security pass as you may need access to some classified areas and information, given your involvement so far and a recommendation from Lieutenant Shepherd. Your military rank and number have been re-instated whilst you are here or for as long as we need you. I don't need to remind you that you are still subject to the Official Secrets Act declaration that you originally signed. Now, if you'll follow me, we'll get you kitted out and see if you can still shoot straight, any questions?" Nathan shook his head no.

The officer continued, "You are an exceptional case, Sergeant. After consulting Lieutenant Shepherd, we feel that your skills would be assistive. Ah, here we are, welcome to the armoury."

***

The captain pushed open a huge steel door. Once inside, Nathan could see heavy wooden benches formed in a “U” shape. Three uniformed men braced up, offering a salute to the entering officer and then waiting for the response.

"At ease, lads! This is Sergeant Nathan Cross, REME. He'll need kitting out and some basic weapons refresher training. He's on guard stag at 2200 hours, so get cracking with him, please."

That was a polite way of saying right now.

"Yes, Sir," replied the lead armourer as the two others went to find Nathan a flak jacket, helmet, and webbing belts.

The captain turned abruptly and left Nathan in the hands of the armoury staff. Nathan looked around the sealed room to see steel bars the length of the windows and low-level fluorescent lighting tubes illuminated the racks of different weapons. Here was order, precision, and pride. There were storage shelves full of helmets, webbing, and green and black flak jackets as well as huge steel vaults housing grenades, flares, mortar shells, and two grenade launchers. It was the smell of gun oil that took him right back to his military days the most. The distinctive smell of the thin watery lubricant, reminiscent of patchouli oil, used to clean and prepare weapons hung in the air.

What happened next caught Nathan off guard. The lead armourer spoke, "Well, I'll be damned! Look what the cat dragged in. If it isn't Sergeant Nathan Cross; you just couldn't stay away, could you? You missed me that much, huh? You still ain't got any better looking!"

Nathan squinted, trying to see more clearly through the low-level lighting; then it came to him.

"Stewey? Sergeant Chris Stewall, it can't be. Is that you?"

"Hey! Less of the Sergeant, it’s Artificer Staff Sergeant now, if you don't mind," he said, correcting Nathan.

It had been years since he'd seen his old friend, recalling how they had done basic training together at REME HQ in Bordon, Hampshire. They had gone on to serve in Germany and Cyprus; thick as thieves they once were, and there had been many a wild night on the town at Rheindahlen Base in Germany.

Eagerly taking the extended hand of Staff Sergeant Chris Stewall, Nathan studied the man, trying to find any changes from the passage of time. Although only five feet eight inches tall, Chris was as strong as an ox with broad muscular shoulders and a powerful grip from hands the size of small bats, one of which now engulfed Nathan’s. Chris was rugged in a rough and ready way. The short-cropped military haircut, tousled on top and with a mind of its own, combined with a lean face, steely blue eyes, and a cocky smile had separated many a maiden from both her resolve and her underwear in the past.