‘I’ll speak to you later,’ Forbes said and the phone went dead.
Mandrick replaced the receiver. The feeling of independence he had once enjoyed while in Styx had turned into one of isolation. The lines of control from the shore had stretched to breaking point as his ship headed towards the void. Mandrick had to scuttle it while he still could.
Since it was now unlikely that he would obtain any kind of insurance against the CIA he would have to fall back on his original plan - which was to devise a scenario that provided substantial evidence of his death without his body having to be found. That was not impossible. It would all depend on the execution of his plan.
As Mandrick got to his feet the door buzzer sounded and he looked at the monitor to see Christine standing outside. She appeared relaxed and confident as usual but as he studied her, zooming the camera in on her face, examining her extraordinary natural beauty, he thought he could detect a trace of tension in her body language.
He checked his watch. Dinner wasn’t for a couple more hours. She was early. An enigma, he mused. His gut feeling told him that she was as much a prison inspector as the pope was. She’d been the first person to talk to Charon when he came around. Charon was a damned spy for someone. The place was probably crawling with spies. But he could care less now. It was time to pull the plug on the operation - an apt way of putting it, he reckoned.
Mandrick considered sending her away but decided that he couldn’t. If she was a spy then the blossoming romance between them was an act on her part. She was planning on leaving that evening but he couldn’t go with her now. Their ‘affair’ would end this night. She was here for something, to give or to take. Perhaps it was to give first and take later. Having his way with her for half an hour or so would not cripple his plan. The thought amused him. He had the weight of the world on his shoulders, desperate to finalise a strategy for his own survival and yet here he was pausing to consider a piece of ass. What a maverick he was. It gave him a feeling of masterfulness, of superiority. He was a true buccaneer, a mercenary to the core, a rebel and adventurer. What could be more heroic than to take a break at such a crucial juncture for a romantic interlude?
He hit the button beside the intercom and as the door hissed, clunked and opened he stepped from behind his desk and into the centre of the room.
Chapter 13
Hamlin, followed by Stratton and a guard, led the way down a narrow, sloping, dimly lit corridor. The mould and fungus common to Styx had taken a particularly firm grip of this section of the prison. Dripping lengths hung from rusting ceiling girders and intertwined between the conduit and cables that followed the contours of the walls. Hamlin slipped on a patch of slimy plankton and Stratton only just managed to grab him before he fell on his backside.
‘Thanks,’ Hamlin said, taking a moment to recover and catch his breath. ‘This road is long overdue for a clean-up, Jed.’
‘You know we don’t have enough inmates to maintain the whole place,’ the guard replied.
‘I don’t see why we can’t use the Buttfucks,’ Hamlin said, taking a grimy cloth from his pocket and wiping the sweat from his face and neck.
‘I don’t make the rules,’ the guard said, loosening his jacket. Sweat stains were clearly visible on it around his chest and armpits.
‘If you got rid of these damned plants you could reduce the humidity down here,’ Hamlin argued.
‘And then you guys’d complain about the disinfectant.’
‘It ain’t disinfectant, Jed, it’s industrial-strength weed-killer, ’ Hamlin sighed, as if he had complained about it a hundred times.‘Like we ain’t got enough health hazards down here we gotta soak up that shit.’
‘Quit bitchin’, Tusker, and get movin’.’
‘Just give me a minute, will yer? My old lungs don’t process the air as good as they should. I use the term “air” loosely, of course. Smells like raw sewage. We can only guess what we’re taking into our lungs.’
The guard rolled his eyes.
A tinny computer-generated voice announced the time over the speakers.
Stratton wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve as he waited for Hamlin to move on. He pondered on the humming sound that had grown louder with their descent. The sound of water was still the most noticeable noise; a green, frothy liquid ran down a gutter on one side of the concrete path. The wall on the same side was practically hidden by a variety of piping and conduits, some of it hanging loosely where the original fastenings had corroded or broken off.
Hamlin sighed heavily and moved on, ducking below a large metal brace that secured a cluster of enormous air ducts to the ceiling.The men weaved between clumps of dripping fungus as they headed steadily downhill.
The lights dimmed suddenly as the voltage dropped. The guard produced a flashlight as Hamlin slowed to a more careful pace.The sloping path became long steps as its angle steepened. Stratton reckoned that they were approaching the lowest depths of the prison. A broad tunnel appeared ahead, cutting across their path. As the lights returned to full brightness voices penetrated through the other noises, accompanied by the sound of heavy footsteps. Stratton realised the sound was coming from behind them.
‘Step aside,’ a voice called out and the three men moved against the pipe-covered wall.
A guard led half a dozen prisoners at a brisk pace down the long steps. The perspiring inmates were all wearing heavy-duty overalls, robust boots, mining helmets and harnesses from which various tools and pouches hung. They shuffled past, their hammers and chisels clanking, each man carrying an emergency breathing tank on his back with a full-face mask hanging from the valves by the head-straps.
‘That’s you in a couple of days, buddy,’ Hamlin said to Stratton.
‘They’re still mining pretty actively,’ Stratton observed. The report on the old mine had made only scant reference to current activity.
‘Some prisons do licence plates and street signs. Our extracurricular is workin’ the face.’
As the tail-end guard went past them into the larger tunnel he called for a halt. ‘Take a breather,’ he said, his voice echoing. ‘Last smoke before we go in.’
The guard looked at Stratton with sudden recognition and gave him a nod. ‘How you feelin’?’ he asked.
Stratton thought it was a strange question from a guard but he nodded anyway.
The guard joined Jed and his colleague and they all lit one up.
‘You don’t remember him, I s’pose,’ Hamlin said.
Stratton shook his head. ‘Should I?’
‘That’s Zack. He’s the guy who saved your ass from drownin’.’
Stratton looked back at the guard. These were odd circumstances in which to show appreciation to someone for saving your life.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Hamlin said as if he could read Stratton’s thoughts. ‘He’s just as likely to take it back if you step outta line. He’s one of the fair ones . . . It’s what this place was before they converted it,’ Hamlin said.
Stratton looked at him, wondering what he was talking about.
‘This place. It was a mining and agriculture experiment. ’
Stratton acted as if he knew nothing about the facility’s past. ‘What are they mining?’
‘Gems.When it was an experiment it cost the taxpayer a fortune to run and the yield didn’t even begin to cover the expenses.When it got closed down they kept the water pumps running. Rumour is that an engineer working on the site in those days wasn’t straight-up about the mine’s true potential. As they were closing down he found a new strike - a big one. Next thing you know a bunch of private investors came up with the plan to reopen the project as a prison. Pretty obvious all they really wanted was access to the mine. Pretty smart to get Uncle Sam to pay for the reopening and running of the facility. Even smarter to have a work force that don’t cost anything, ain’t goin’ anywhere and can’t tell anyone what’s goin’ on down here. Some of the guys have kept a few rocks for themselves but they ain’t goin’ anywhere with ’em. The guards get a nice fat tax-free bonus each month in a brown envelope to keep ’em sweet. And the CIA turns a blind eye to it all and even plays safety for the corporation because they get what they want.’