He jumped out of his skin as his silent prayers were interrupted by Cortez’s urgent knocking.
“Damn, but I nearly shit myself, Jed. I take it we’ve got something?”
Cortez was grinning from ear to ear and the excitement of the moment was clearly etched on his face.
“You betcha, General, Sir. She’s summat else, like you said. The Admiral’s all over her at the moment but she’s pulled something outta the bag that you need to see right away.”
Rossiter sprang from behind the desk and the two set off at slightly more than a canter, arriving at the entertainment hut, whose projector and blank walls were fully in use.
“Admiral.”
“General. I think you’ll be glad to hear that the mission has proven successful.”
He moved to follow Dalziel to a map of the prison camp, one drawn in the same style as Jenkins had drawn of the IRA camp at Glenlara what seemed a lifetime ago.
Photographs, some from a single shot camera, some selected and lifted from cine film, were strewn around the large table, each with a label and some connected to points on the drawing by pins and cotton.
“What do you have for me, Flight Officer Jenkins?”
“Proof that you’re right, Sir… or at least that the camp holds secrets.”
“Show me.”
The attack had been sent in as early as possible in the morning, and arrived at just after 0900 hrs. Part of the reasoning for this was to give the interpreters shadows to play with. The angle of the sun meant that shadows could reveal things that otherwise might be hidden.
As in many things, timing was everything, and the photos revealed groups of men clearly being herded by others, an extensive prison camp laid out neatly, with row after row of wooden huts surrounded by security fences, towers, and likely more.
The new imaging cameras were state of the art, and their pictures, aided by precision German lenses, were beyond anything that Rossiter or even Dalziel had ever seen.
“Here, Sir.”
The projector threw up a picture that showed a close-up of the camp’s northern edge.
“What am I looking at, Flight Officer?”
“This line here, Sir. It’s wire, complete with towers and mines.”
“Mines?”
“Most certainly. Because it’s sandy and quite windy, you can clearly see the bumps where the wind has blown away the surface… here… here… here… he…”
“Yes, I get your point, thank you. It’s a camp though. Wire is to be expected surely?”
He offered his comment without sarcasm, as he knew the woman was a magician in her field.
“Yes indeed, General. But the point is, it’s here… here… and here… but it’s not here… at least not inward facing like the camp system clearly is… or more exactly inward and outward. This area here is only facing outward.”
He peered and sort of understood what Jenkins was driving at.
“All the way to the river… the wire faces outwards only. See here… the track marks… these lorries,” she handed over a separate photo that showed vehicles arriving at the prison camp, “They don’t stay in the camp… I’m sure of it… they go through the camp and into this area… with only outward facing security. On the riverside there are established posts… you can see them quite clearly here and here… all along the waterfront… I estimate no more than twenty yards apart… backed up by larger bunkers set back and higher up… here and along this line, General.”
He looked and saw, although not with the same clarity and assurance that Jenkins clearly did.
The silent Flight Sergeant who was her constant assistant moved with controlled excitement and shoved a picture under Jenkins’ nose.
In the way of specialists all the world over, Jenkins immediately ignored the senior ranks and moved away to a separate table.
Something resembling a pow-wow with her NCO and another bespectacled youth ensued, the latter speaking excitedly as he had clearly found something of great import.
Jenkins patted the man’s back in delight and returned, holding the photograph.
“General. We have your answer. There’s a lot more work to do, but I can definitely tell you that all’s not what it seems here.”
She laid the photograph on the projector slab and examined the larger display, smiling with insider knowledge.
“What am I looking at, Flight Officer?”
“Corporal Gentle has found something outside the camp… or rather, that appears outside the camp, but isn’t.”
She moved towards the image, her shadow cutting out part and focussing the two senior men’s eyes on the section that was still brightly displayed.
“Here. This seems to be outside the camp, but it isn’t. There’s a fence, but it’s not an ordinary one.”
Dalziel got as close as he could but failed to spot the things that had caught gentle’s eye.
“Here, Sir… that’s a pack of wolves heading away… here are men… probably security… here is a dead wolf… and here’s another… it’s still smoking if you look closely.”
“Electric fencing? What on earth for? That’s a long way away from the camp.”
“For this.”
She highlighted a dark ‘L’ shape that was set inside the now clearly discernible electric fence.
“Shadow… that’s a structure. It’s square and probably something like thirty yards each side and approaching seven yards high.”
“What the deuce?”
“And there’s more, Sir.”
She nodded to her NCO who took a photo from under Gentle’s nose and brought it to his officer.
“Can I cut these, Flight?”
He nodded and even provided the scissors.
Jenkins laid the two halves side by side, one photo taken a few hours beforehand, the other back when the camp was being constructed.
There was absolutely no doubt whatsoever that the large building was totally new.
“There are others too. Here… if you look closely… the vegetation is seared around this hole. In the view of my team, that’s a heat vent… an exhaust or similar.”
A light went off in Dalziel’s mind.
“It’s underground, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir. There’s something underneath this camp. Everything I’ve seen so far points to it. The buildings have no worn paths between them. There is parking here, probably for the lorries that come into the camp, but the size of building is far in excess of the parking space. If I was a betting girl, I would say that’s a lift. The building there is quite tall… maybe to provide room for the lifting gear et cetera…”
Rossiter spoke gently but firmly.
“I know what you can do from our last encounter, Flight officer. Can you produce a similar map of the whole area… with all the details for this place? And I mean all the details… and quickly?”
“Yes, Sir. Of course, this site is much larger than the previous one, but my team are on top of the problem already, as you see. Give us time and space and we’ll give you everything you need, Sir.”
“You’ve got it. Any time of day or night, my door is open. Get cracking Flight Officer. I want to know everything about 1001… what you calling it?
“Moria, Sir. Gentle found the first clues, so he got to name it.”
Dalziel chuckled.
“Tolkien strikes again, eh?”
“Tolkien?”
“He’s a writer, Sam. Wrote the Lord of the Rings… it’s a fantasy novel. Moria’s an underground kingdom.”
“Never heard of him, but it’ll do. Keep me informed, Jenkins. Well done to you and your team, and keep it up.”
They exchanged brief salutes and Sam Rossiter hurried to his office to make a number of calls.
