Thursday

by David Ridgway

  Horror-struck, they continued to watch the water relentlessly surge past Southwark Bridge, Tate Modern and Blackfriars Bridge. Although the height of the wave was now reduced to about twenty feet, this remained sufficient for the detritus in the water, the empty containers, vehicles and an increasing number of dead bodies, to be deposited considerable distances from the river itself. The mere concentration of the buildings, with so many narrow streets between them, seemed to be slowing down the surge, but its power was so great that it cut a swathe of appalling destruction.

  The water surged into the Bakerloo line at Lambeth North tube station. The flood doors had half closed before power to the line was cut. The force of the water was so great that it tore the safety doors off their mountings, before sluicing down the access tunnels to the platforms. The whole station was completely filled with dirty, oily water, pushing all the waiting passengers onto the tracks and into the tunnels where they drowned. The water carried the bodies under the Thames to Embankment, Charing Cross and even Piccadilly stations. When it reached Piccadilly, its force was only sufficient to fill the track bed and the waiting passengers on the platforms watched in disgust as, at first, dead mice and rats floated past, before the full horror struck them as drowned people began to emerge from the tunnel.

  To the south of Piccadilly, a train on the southbound track was halted by the lack of power. This obstruction in the tunnel effectively stopped the numbers of drowned people floating past. Instead, they piled up, in front of the driver’s cab, effectively creating a barrage. This made the situation far worse at Charing Cross, as the rats and mice followed by a large number of drowned people, were washed onto the platforms, amongst the waiting crowds who were unable to move back because of the force of the more people coming down the stairs. The loss of power had created dark, claustrophobic conditions, as the people began to claw at each other in an attempt to get out. Many slipped and fell. Some lost their footing at the platform edge where they slipped and fell into the water before they themselves drowned alongside the bodies who had been carried in by the flood water. Slowly the water rose up the walls and into the connecting tunnels, until it finally reached the roof of the tunnels. Everyone left on the platforms and in the connecting tunnels was finally drowned.

  On the north bank, except for Katherine Dock, most of the land by the city remained relatively unscathed. The natural steepness of the riverbank and the land behind it formed a barrier high enough to restrict the flooding. Even so, for the first time in centuries, the dry moat around the Tower of London was filled with water. Traitor’s Gate was completely ruined when it was struck a glancing blow by a bus floating in the flooded river.

  As the surge passed them, David and Jackie watched it sweep inland at Charing Cross over the wall of the Victoria Embankment and into Horse Guards Avenue. They watched the wave pick up a double decker bus on the Embankment, before being hit a glancing blow by one of the tourist boats that had been ripped from its mooring. The surge flowed past all the famous offices of state and into St James Park, leaving the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben in its wake looking somewhat like a cruise ship moored in a marina.

  The death toll was growing rapidly, particularly underground. The carnage in all the road tunnels had been immense, made worse by so many vehicles being crushed, but this was massively exceeded by numbers of dead in the Underground system. The sheer volume of people that tried to escape from the city and from Westminster via the Underground, caused people to slip and fall in the tunnels and on the stairs. They literally had no chance of survival and were simply trampled to death. In the panic to get away, there was little demonstration of human generosity and care. It was simply a question of ‘Survival of the fittest and the devil catch the hindmost’.

  The London Underground has been developed over the last one hundred and fifty years and is an exceptional transport system. Built next to a tidal river, it has flood safety systems, but these are powered by electricity. Should the power supply be interrupted, then there are emergency systems primed to take over. In the event of an incident where the power is cut, the safety process has a short delay before the emergency system kicks in. Each Underground line theoretically has its own power supply, but the passenger tunnels and escalators interlink with the whole system. Being the most recent lines that cross beneath the river Thames, the new Victoria and Jubilee lines are the best protected and their flood systems shut down quickly and efficiently, even in the interconnecting passenger tunnels. It was, however, a very different story on the Northern and Bakerloo networks.

  At the same time as the water inundated London Bridge and Borough stations, the crowds on the platforms at both Monument and Embankment stations were so dense that people were simply pushed off the edge of the platforms and onto the electrified lines. There they were electrocuted causing an immediate shutdown of the power. Trains stopped mid tunnel and all the lights went out. The escalators stopped and the lifts shuddered to a halt. The emergency systems did not kick in before the water was able to enter the tunnels and to flow down the stairways and the lift shafts towards the platforms. The pressure of the water was so great that the cables carrying the lifts simply snapped. The lift cabins dropped down the lift shafts, hitting the bottom with such force that the passengers suffered a multitude of broken legs, pelvises and spines. But they had no time to consider their fate, nor even to react to the pain, as all were immediately drowned when the water overwhelmed them.

  The big steel flood doors stayed open and the water, unimpeded, flowed deep into the underground network, sweeping drowned people at the front, until it reached the platforms themselves. Here it simply pushed the mass of humanity onto the lines and into the tunnels, before flowing northwards under the river towards Monument and southwards past the Elephant and Castle towards Kennington. Here the lines branch both to the north as well as the south. The water, therefore, was able to flood both northwards to Charing Cross and further to the southeast beyond Oval.

  Above ground, Jackie and David watched as the horrific disaster unfolded before them, the mountainous wall of water sweeping westwards across Waterloo, over the Jubilee Gardens, knocking down the London Eye before crashing into Westminster where it swiftly inundated Westminster Station. The containers and vehicles in the water reduced Westminster Pier to matchwood, before sweeping into and across Parliament Square, up Great George Street and into St James Park. Many trees were uprooted by the progress of the heavy containers, although their weight, coupled with the gentle upward incline of the land now had the effect of reducing the power of the surge and slowing it. Several cars were swept into the park with one finally coming to rest wedged against the gates leading into the marooned Buckingham Palace.

  The modern buildings of Westminster, seemingly so substantial with their stone facades and brick fascias, are predominantly of a steel framework construction. Most were capable of withstanding such a water borne barrage. Older buildings particularly on the south bank and without the benefit of deep foundations, were not so fortunate and many succumbed to the unceasing battering of the detritus in the water. Those people trapped inside the collapsed buildings were either crushed or drowned and as the walls fell down, broken gas pipes and electric cables were exposed. Before the power was cut all over London, several heavy containers cut through these cables causing them to short and arc which, in turn, ignited the escaping gas. Explosions could be heard across the city with increasing regularity.

  Jackie looked at David, her face ashen and frightened, and asked, “What are we going to do now?”

  David shook his head. His heart was full of despair, but his immediate thought was of his father, stuck somewhere in the city.

  “That was awful,” he replied somewhat lamely. “I wonder where my dad is.”

  “And mine!” replied Jackie.

  “Of course.” David protectively put his arm round his girlfriend. “He’ll be at Scotland Yard, won’t he?”

  “I suppose so.” She looked up at him before
saying, “Well, we could go there and see if he can help us.”

  In the cabinet room at No 10 Downing Street, the Prime Minister was presiding over an urgent meeting with the Home Secretary and the Minister for the Environment.

  “Can you give me any up to date information?” he asked. “I’m due to make a statement in the House this afternoon and it seems that we are constantly being overtaken by events.” He looked at the Home Secretary. “I understand that there has been a considerable movement of people from their offices in the city to the Underground.”

  “Yes, Prime Minister. No one really understands why. Basically, it appears that the city has downed tools and run.”

  “But, why? Surely everyone knows that the city is built on higher ground and with the most sophisticated construction techniques. It must be one of the safest environments in the world.”

  “It would appear that the message put out by the Environment Agency did not have the desired effect. The movement of all those people has clogged the transport system and the Underground is struggling to cope.”

  “What is the situation with the weather?” The Prime Minister turned to his Environment Minister.

  “The weather fronts have caused a swell in the North Sea,” he replied. “I am advised by the Environment Agency that it has moved south east down the North Sea and made landfall in Holland at just after one o’clock this afternoon.”

  “Did it cause any damage?”

  “Yes, Prime Minister. I am led to understand that, at its commencement, the swell was some six feet high, but when it reached the continental shelf, the speed of the swell slowed from almost 200 miles per hour, down to about 20 miles per hour. This caused it to act like a mini though concentrated tsunami, reaching an estimated height of 25 feet. The tide was already flowing and the sea was already high.”

  “For pity’s sake, man,” the Prime Minister interrupted. “Did it cause any damage?”

  “Yes, Prime Minister. The sea surge was so great it inundated the Zuider Zee and has caused considerable damage to northern Holland, even as far south as Amsterdam.” He stopped and looked up at the Prime Minister. “There has been much loss of life and structural damage. Unfortunately, communications have been lost as we believe that power production in Holland has been interrupted.”

  “And this was at one o’clock, Greenwich Mean Time?”

  “Yes, Prime Minister.”

  “Is this sea surge still moving?”

  “Yes, Prime Minister.”

  “Where is it now?”

  “I was advised at ten to two, just as I was arriving here in Downing Street, that it has entered the Thames Estuary. That was almost an hour ago. Information remains sketchy, but we are aware that its speed has reduced significantly.”

  “Will this make it grow in height as in Holland?” The Prime Minister turned white as he asked the question.

  “I am advised that it will. However, I am also advised that it is not expected to surge beyond the Thames Barrier.”

  “What happens if it does?”

  The question remained unanswered. Outside, they could hear a rumbling and the building was shaking. The Prime Minister stood up and walked to a window which overlooks the rose garden at the back of Downing Street. Below him dirty, oily water was flooding round the corners of the building. He looked more closely and saw two floating corpses.

  “If your sea surge has reached Westminster, the Thames Barrier must already have been breached. God be with all those in the Underground. They must be beyond all help.” He strode to the door and opened it. “Summon COBRA with immediate effect,” he instructed.

  David and Jackie continued to stare at the unfolding scene of devastation below them. The wave had passed in front of them from left to right and finally disappeared up river towards Pimlico. In its wake, it had left enormous destruction. Buildings had been annihilated, power lines exposed, gas pipes unearthed, bridges destroyed, railway lines buckled and broken. Empty containers had rolled with incredible force through housing estates, crushing the houses, indiscriminately killing the occupants, before the water swept the rubble away. Cars, vans and trucks, swept upriver from as far away as Gravesend, were now deposited in roads, gardens, hospital forecourts and office building entrances. The more modern tower blocks remained firm. The strength of their construction and their deep foundations gave them a solidity. Even where the ground floors windows were broken allowing the water to surge up the stairwells, the upper floors were basically unscathed, although in every case power was interrupted.

  It was onto this scene that Jackie and David stared, having witnessed a sight of biblical devastation. They were completely unaware that the wave of destruction was continuing remorselessly up river, flooding over the riverbank into Battersea Park, smashing into pulpwood all the houseboats moored off World’s End, flooding into Chelsea and Fulham as far north as the Hammersmith flyover, inundating Chiswick and even flowing into Kew Gardens. The height of the surge continued to diminish because of the twists and turns of the river itself and as it passed Craven Cottage, it was now only about six feet. Because the river was already so high with flood water, this was still sufficient to flow over the river bank into the London Wetland Centre and completely contaminate the waterpark, before crossing the rest of the Barnes peninsula, flooding houses, finally re-joining the river at the Leg o’ Mutton.

  The height and strength of the wave was no longer capable of washing the big containers over the riverbanks. Some still floated in the middle of the river where they continued to damage and destroy whatever was in their path. The western side of Isleworth Eyot was completely blocked with this detritus; Richmond Lock and its footbridge were both destroyed, but by the time the surge reached Twickenham Road Bridge, the only visible signs of the devastation down river, were the floating bodies and the oily scum on the surface of the water.

  Because of the incessant rainfall, the river was already dangerously high and as the surge passed by, it slopped over the riverbanks onto the riverside paths and roads. There was already localised flooding from Eel Pie Island up river towards Teddington Lock, but not with any particular structural damage. Now, the surge simply made the swollen river overflow, contaminating the water treatment works at Hampton, Molesey and Walton and causing damage to the boathouses of the riverside properties as far west as Shepperton.

  On that Thursday morning, Sebastian decided to take a practical look at his plans to construct a hideaway for his illicit money. He knocked on Jack and Betty’s apartment door soon after breakfast. Betty was already working in the kitchen and Jack was on his own, reading the morning paper.

  “Sorry to intrude, Jack.” Seb walked into the living room. “I was wondering if I could discuss a project with you.” He started walking slowly up and down the room.

  “What’s that then?”

  “Do you have any idea what is under the stairs as you go down into the basement?” Seb paused, hoping that his next words would not cause the breakup of a long relationship. “I need to create a space, hidden away from prying eyes, where I can keep some documents and other objects.”

  “Oh! That shouldn’t be too difficult Mr F B.” Jack’s candid response rather took the wind out of Seb’s sails. He stopped walking and looked directly at him.

  “How do you mean?” Seb sat down on the edge of an armchair.

  “My old dad told me that there used to be a further cellar below the basement. It was blocked up before the outbreak of the Second World War. I wasn’t around then, of course, but I gather that your dad was already in discussion with the Ministry of War, with regard to giving the hotel over to the military, should it be needed.”

  “How can it be accessed?”

  “Simple enough, Mr F B,” replied Jack. “What you think is a blank wall next to the lift shaft is, in fact, a false wall at the top of another flight of steps leading further down.”

  “Bloody hell!” exclaimed Seb. “That’ll save a vast amount of effort.”

  “Wh
at do you mean? Do you want to open it up? That’ll be a bit beyond me these days, what with my arthritis.”

  “Yes! I know. But your advice and your memory will be invaluable. I can provide all the necessary labour from other contacts.” Seb stopped and began to consider the possibilities. “But I will still want to disguise the entrance. I don’t want to advertise that there’s more space lower down.”

  “That won’t be easy,” remarked Jack.

  “No, it won’t. I can call on one of my business contacts to discuss how best it can be done.” He stood up. “First, however, I want to look behind that wall. Can you bring a drill and a hammer and chisel down to the basement?” Seb left the room and went to his own apartment, where he changed into overalls.

  Ten minutes later both he and Jack were in the basement, looking at the blank wall next to the lift doors. It had been plastered flush as though there was nothing behind it at all. Seb knocked on the plaster and was rewarded with a distinctive hollow sound. He knocked in an organised pattern all over the wall. It all seemed to be hollow. He gently pushed the wall and the plaster moved slightly under the pressure.

  “This might be easier that I thought,” he murmured. He drilled a hole through the plaster. Other than the plaster itself, there was no resistance at all. He tried another few holes and finally completed a full circle before putting down the drill. He picked up the hammer and chisel and began to knock out the plaster. He found that the wall was simply double thickness plaster board, nailed onto a simple three by two wooden frame. When all the plasterboard was removed, they realised that the frame had been placed six inches in front of a door, which was just like all the other doors in the stairwell of the hotel, at the back of the top step. Fred produced a heavy-duty bin bag for all the broken plasterboard and rubbish.