“Not everyone,” said Saracen firmly. “A lot but not everyone.”
Beasdale adopted a pained expression as if what he had to say was difficult. “I don’t think you understand Doctor,” he said quietly.
“Understand what?”
“My position.”
“Tell me,” said Saracen though he feared that he would not like the answer.
“I believe that the situation in Skelmore will be out of control within seventy two hours if I let it.”
“How so?”
“Any policing operation, civil or military, depends on the co-operation of the majority. When it becomes generally known in Skelmore that the emergency services have broken down and that people are being left to die in their houses we will no longer have that co-operation. There will be an uprising and people will attempt to leave the town in large numbers. Under these conditions some would undoubtedly succeed and spread an incurable plague. I cannot allow that to happen.”
Saracen swallowed and said, “The disease has survived for centuries in these rats. If we don’t find the colony and wipe it out the chances are that it will survive any ‘misfortune’ that should befall Skelmore. Afterwards, of course, the colony might have to look for a new home…”
Beasdale’s face took on the hint of a smile. He said quietly, “All right Doctor, you have made your point. Find your colony, destroy it. I’ll give you every assistance I can. The only thing I cannot give you is time.”
Saracen nodded and said, “I understand.”
Beasdale got up and put on his cap. “I’ll leave a small detachment to help with the excavation,” he said. Keep me informed.”
Chapter Fifteen
Claire spread out the plans on the table in the site office and said, “After the fire little was reported to have been left of the abbey itself but it’s likely that the cellars and vaults survived. As you can see they were quite extensive.”
“And we know that there must be at least two outlets,” said MacQuillan.
“We do?” said Claire.
“The one the rats used before the excavations gave them a new one here on Palmer’s Green.”
“Of course.”
“Our immediate aim is to estimate the size of the labyrinth. Once we know that we can work out how much gas we are going to need to destroy the inhabitants, fleas and all.”
The talking was over and it was time to examine the entrance hole on Palmer’s Green. The three of them put on protective clothing, Claire’s having been provided from one of the two army Land-Rovers standing by. MacQuillan issued a warning. “If we should come across any rats, back off, give them room. On no account come between them and their escape route.” He looked at Claire and Saracen in turn to verify that his point had been taken.
“Let’s get started,” said Saracen. He removed the wooden cover that the boy Edwards had fabricated to safe-guard his find and shone his torch inside the hole before dropping down and examining the walls. Once more his hands touched wood. This time a piece of chipboard had been wedged into the side wall. He levered it out and handed it to MacQuillan who put it to one side.
“Can you see anything?” asked Claire as Saracen bent down to peer through the opening with the aid of the torch.
Saracen grunted. He could see that he was standing on the roof of an arch that spanned a stone passage below. There was a two metre drop to the floor. He told the others.
“Can you get down?”
“I think so,” replied Saracen. “It must have been easier for the boy but here goes.” He manoeuvred backwards through the opening and lowered himself into the darkness, taking most of the strain on his arms as his feet searched for toe holds. He found two on the way down and let out a sigh of relief as his feet touched the floor of the passage. He could feel the cold and damp of the atmosphere permeate his protective suiting as he looked up to see the circle of light blotted out by Claire as she put her head into the opening.
“To your left,” Saracen advised her as he saw Claire’s foot seek out a hold.
“Got it.” Claire lowered herself gingerly and stood beside Saracen. She reached out her arms and could touch both walls. “Not much room,” she said.
MacQuillan joined them and they set off along the passage in single file with Saracen leading. “I don’t remember anything like this in the plans,” he said as the passage stretched beyond thirty metres. No one replied. “Any suggestions?” he asked as they passed fifty metres.
“It’s beginning to make sense,” said Claire behind him.
“Glad to hear it,” said Saracen dryly.
“I think this is an escape tunnel.”
“For whom?”
“For the Brothers of the abbey.”
“Why?”
“These were troubled times when violence was a way of life. Many castles, palaces, monasteries were built with secret escape tunnels that would not be marked on any plan.”
“That would explain why it’s so long,” said Saracen.
“And why it’s so narrow,” added MacQuillan. “If its only function was as a means of escape.”
Saracen reckoned that they had covered the best part of a hundred metres when the passage suddenly widened out into a circular chamber, closed off on the far side by an iron grilled gate. Tugging at the bars failed to budge it. Saracen shone the torch all round the edge but found no lock. Subsidence of the ground above them had driven the bars into the floor. He froze as a dark shape flitted quickly in and out of the torch beam. He heard Claire’s sharp intake of breath. “Was that what I thought it was?” she asked.
“‘Fraid so,” said Saracen.
“Over here,” said MacQuillan. Claire and Saracen joined him and saw that he was holding a crucifix in his hand. “I found it on the shelf here,” he said, running his torch beam along a stone lintel set in the wall.
“Can I hold it?” said Claire quietly and MacQuillan handed it to her. She took it gently in her palms and whispered, “To think that this belonged to the monks of Skelmoris.”
Saracen swept his torch beam around the floor of the chamber and paused as it picked out a red Coca Cola can. He picked it up and said, “Well, the monks never held this. I think we can be fairly certain that this was young Master Edwards’ treasure cave.”
MacQuillan looked at the way the gate was jammed and said, “He couldn’t have got past here.”
“Any idea what this chamber was for Claire?” Saracen asked.
“Hiding,” replied Claire. “They would wait here for a while before deciding whether to go back or use the tunnel.”
“And the gate would be the last line of defence in case the searchers found the entrance to the tunnel?”
“I think so,” agreed Claire.
“We are going to need help with the gate,” said MacQuillan and the others agreed. Saracen led the way back along the passage to seek the assistance of the military.
While they were waiting for the soldiers to deal with the jammed gate Claire took the crucifix to the site office to record its details. Saracen and MacQuillan took a breather and sat with their backs against one of the Land Rovers. Saracen said, “I’ve been thinking. If plague has survived in the rats for more than six centuries the rats must obviously have some kind of immunity from it.”
“That’s usually the case in sylvatic plague. Some animals are immune and others are not.”
“Is it known why?”
“No, but a healthy carrier state has been described in human beings too. A study carried out in Viet Nam showed that a number of people were carrying it in their naso-pharynx. What’s on your mind?”
“If the immunity factor could be identified it might be possible to use it.”
“But that kind of study could take years,” said MacQuillan.
“It might take years to do it scientifically and describe the immune mechanism in detail but I was thinking in more practical terms.”
“Go on.”
“If we could get blood from an immune rat and have Porton compare it with the blood of a rat that had succumbed to the disease they might be able to spot the immunity factor without having to know what it was. If they could get enough of it we could use it to treat people.”