Hell Pit

by WR Armstrong

  A single uniformed police officer stood guard at the underground entrance when McGrath arrived. The Planning Manager produced his official pass explaining his business there, and the officer stepped aside to allow him through. “Do you know what’s happened exactly?” he asked.

  “One of your blokes took a fall is all I know,” said the officer. “Health and Safety are down there at the moment, and there’s some bloke from the Coroner’s office wandering around.”

  Like the proverbial loose cannon, McGrath thought. He hurried into the deserted ticket hall and took the steeply inclined escalators to the underground platform, grabbing a safety hat en-route. As he approached he saw that the tunnel was a hive of activity. Wilkinson stood on the tracks near its entrance talking to another man. He jumped down from the platform and joined the two.

  The man with Wilkinson was from the Health and Safety Executive. McGrath greeted him coolly, knowing he’d be trouble whether he received cooperation or not, and was therefore guarded during the brief conversation they had. Once the health and safety official was gone McGrath turned his full attention to Wilkinson, demanding to know how the accident in the tunnel occurred.

  Wilkinson looked distinctly uneasy as he spoke. “Scaffolding was being erected below the aperture caused by the explosion. Two men worked at the highest point, checking the extent of the damage. Everything was fine, and then one of them came down to tell us they’d seen something up there. That was when the second bloke suddenly cried out and fell. Luckily, he doesn’t appear to be too badly injured. He’s been taken to the infirmary to be checked over.”

  McGrath frowned. “So what was it that made him cry out and fall?”

  “There are bones in the aperture,” Wilkinson explained. “We don’t yet know if they are of human origin, but I personally think we should be prepared for possible delays in the reconstruction program. If the explosion has unearthed an old burial ground, archaeologists are going to want to get in on the act. And I don’t need to spell out the implications of that to you.”

  “What the hell goes on here, Bill,” McGrath asked. “We’re almost ninety feet below the surface. Can you give me one good reason why bones would be buried so deep?”

  Wilkinson couldn’t. “No doubt the archaeologists will enlighten us,” he ventured. “Work has been halted temporarily. A party from the Archaeological Institute is expected here sometime this morning. I suppose we’ll get a clearer picture then.”

  “That’s all we need,” McGrath said. “Have you checked out the aperture yourself, Bill?”

  “Yes. Bones are definitely in the soil.”

  Wilkinson was called away to answer a phone call leaving McGrath to review the situation. The new development was a calamity. Work might be held up indefinitely if the site was declared to be of historical importance. No doubt the Transport for London committee would react angrily to the news, as would the Mayor who was ultimately responsible for the running of the underground. Adjusting his helmet McGrath walked into the tunnel’s shadowy interior to inspect progress.

  Elevated lighting rigged either side of the mangled remains of the tracks highlighted depth and contour. The tube train was gone, having been removed to a nearby depot for further examination. So too had the tons of debris, carried away on conveyor belts to waiting spoil trucks. An electrically operated shunter, known as a battery train, stood on the tracks, loaded with repair equipment. A team of highly trained professionals employed to put right the damage caused by the Second World War bomb worked in rotating shifts.

  McGrath looked up into the gaping hole in the tunnel roof musing over the significance of the bones. It was noticeably cold here, which was odd, for the temperature within the underground was thermostatically controlled by over one hundred powerful fans that kept it at a steady 21degrees Celsius, making the underground warm in winter and cool in summer.

  The hole was wide and deep, an elevated, inverted cave, made safe by engineers who had installed a steel umbrella similar to that used in the construction of Oxford Station on the Victoria Line in the 1950’s, though on a smaller scale. Steel uprights and joists supported the umbrella. Pre-cast concrete would later be used to fill the hole. The explosion had cracked and weakened the tunnel walls intermittently. There was a lot to do before this section of underground would be operational again. Delays would be damaging to the underground’s reputation.

  Wilkinson returned to inform McGrath that a team from the Archaeological Institute had been given official permission to inspect the site and evaluate whether the bones buried there were of archaeological interest.

  McGrath took the news philosophically.

  “Keep me informed,” he said and left to visit the hospitalised worker, leaving Wilkinson to announce the imminent arrival of the archaeologists to the reconstruction team.

  2.

  Marcos Powell was in his mid-twenties. He had worked as a scaffold erector for three years and was considered experienced in the job. Having telephoned his employer prior to arriving at the hospital, McGrath had established he was a conscientious worker with a good attendance record. Why he panicked in the underground was a mystery. As a result of the fall he had sustained concussion and a pelvic injury. McGrath found him defensive when questioned.

  “It wasn’t my fault,” he said from his hospital bed. “I was doing everything by the book. I wasn’t taking any short cuts. Honest!”

  “I’m not here to lay blame on anyone,” McGrath replied reassuringly. “Nobody’s looking for a scapegoat. Now tell me what happened in your own words.”

  Powell thought carefully before answering. “Jake was with me,” he said finally. “Jake was on a lower section. We were in the process of checking the platform for stability. Someone had complained about it lacking rigidity. There are two big halogen spotlights directed into the aperture. I could see as clear as day. I heard a voice, thought it was Jake but it wasn’t because the voice came from the dirt. And that was when I saw the bones.”

  “Was that what made you fall?” McGrath asked.

  Powell shook his head. “It was the faces that did that.”

  “What faces?”

  “Faces of the dead, Mr McGrath, and suddenly my head was crowded with voices, the voices of dead people, and that was when I panicked and fell.”

  McGrath was measured in his response, afraid of alienating the other man. “What did the voices say, Marcos?”

  But Powel refused to say and simply stared into space.

  His demeanour reminded McGrath of an officer he’d once met during jungle training in Indonesia. The “Rupert”, the name given to officers by ordinary serving soldiers, had been returned to unit or RTUd, labelled unfit for service, having suffered a mental breakdown whilst on jungle manoeuvres.

  “It wasn’t my imagination,” Powell insisted, as McGrath was about to leave. “I saw and heard dead people in that hole.”

  McGrath didn’t argue the point. To do so would serve no purpose. He thanked Powell for his cooperation and left. Alone, Powell began to regret being so honest. Still, no harm was done. At least he’d had the good sense to keep his sudden preoccupation with crucifixion to himself.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The discovery of bones brought an immediate halt to repair work in the underground. Specimens examined by a pathologist and health official were deemed to be human. A meeting was held at City Hall in which the situation was discussed in detail. McGrath represented London Underground. Professor William Carrington from the London Museum led the archaeological contingent. He was a tall lean man of middle age with a shock of wavy grey hair and an engaging smile, who had the distinction of having once led research into carbon dating. He was destined to take on the role of Field Director should a dig take place in the underground. His second in command was an anthropologist and linguist by the name of Abe Chrichton, a stocky balding individual, whose speciality outside anthropology lay in the detection and decoding of ancient languages. Chrichton had the distinction of helping to e
xcavate a burial grave at Towton near York in the late nineties, which contained the remains of thirty-seven soldiers who died in a ferocious battle that claimed the lives of twenty eight thousand men during the Wars of the Roses. He was highly praised for his involvement in the project, having discovered fresh evidence in chronicles of the time reinforcing the view that the individuals in the grave were executed as prisoners, rather than having died in the battle itself.

  A translator by the name of Kate Marshall, who also acted as personal assistant to Professor Carrington, sat between the two academics. McGrath put her in her early thirties. She was petite and pretty with an open friendly face, long honey coloured hair and an engaging smile. Before joining Carrington’s team she was contracted to the London Museum to assist in decoding an important manuscript possibly written by the Essenes, which was discovered hidden in a hillside catacomb near Jerusalem. She had been instrumental in decoding the document, which made numerous references to the life and times of Jesus Christ no less. Amongst others in attendance who would play an integral role should a dig taken place was a zoologist, a forensic osteologist, and a representative from the Coroner’s office.

  A man by the name of Gibson chaired the meeting, which promised to be a tense, potentially volatile affair. With the formalities of introduction over, Carrington explained his role and that of his colleagues for the benefit of those unfamiliar with the subject of archaeology. He then addressed the matter at hand, speaking in a cultured, authoritative voice.

  “As we are all aware, human remains have been found in the roof of Northwalk Underground Station that might prove to have important historical significance. It is not the first time finds of this nature have been discovered under such circumstances. During the construction of the Victoria line in 1963 six fossil nautiloids fifty million years old were unearthed near Victoria. More relevant to the recent finds was the discovery of a plague pit near Green Park. One of the reasons we’re here today,” he said acknowledging each member of the party in turn, “is for me to inform you of the result of studying the finds that we have in our possession.” He paused to take a sip of chilled water, giving McGrath the opportunity to speak. “A graveyard stands above the underground tunnel, professor. Mightn’t the bones have originated from there?”

  Abe Chrichton spoke, his tone dismissive to the point of being rude. “They were found deep below the surface. It would be impossible for them to have been displaced by the blast in a downward trajectory.”

  “But why bury bones so deep?” McGrath questioned.

  “We don’t yet know,” Carrington said, retaking control of proceedings. “What we can say from initial study is that they may have been buried for three to four hundred years. Police forensic agree. So too does the pathologist who examined them. Another reason they can’t be from the graveyard is because both it and the present church have only been there for about two hundred and fifty years. It seems highly likely that we have come across an old burial site.”

  McGrath considered the consequences of the statement. The situation did not bode well for London Transport or London Underground Limited. Assuming Carrington was correct and the explosion had inadvertently unearthed some kind of mass grave, then work on the reconstruction of the underground would be unable to continue until the area was excavated. The Archaeological Society along with the Natural History Museum and the Medical Profession would insist, such finds being rare and potentially important. It placed McGrath in an awkward position with the two academics.

  Carrington continued speaking. “We are of the opinion that the occupants of the grave may have perished during the Bubonic Plague of 1665. That being the case, from study of the remains we may learn a great deal more about disease, diet and life expectancy at that time. There are still unanswered questions about the plague. Diagnosis then was rudimentary. There is even a theory that Anthrax was responsible for the epidemic. It is all extremely intriguing and is another reason why this find may be a significant one.”

  “If what you say is true,” McGrath said, “what is the likelihood of a risk to health?”

  The health official responded. “A soil test has already been undertaken that gives the all clear. It was merely a precaution anyway, for it would be impossible for a disease, even one as robust as Anthrax, to survive for more than seventy to eighty years, and only then if the conditions are right.”

  “So what happens now,” McGrath asked. When no one answered he felt compelled to say, “It’s important you all understand that London Transport has a comparatively large section of tunnel to rebuild and a tight time schedule, not to mention budget, in which to do it. Delay will therefore be disastrous, not only from the London Transport’s viewpoint, but also from that of the commuters. Surely you can see that?”

  The silence that followed was telling. It seemed to McGrath that the academics thought they had Carte blanch over the situation: that it was beyond discussion. At long last Carrington spoke, addressing McGrath as a teacher might a pupil needing guidance.

  “The Museum Field Archaeologist from the Natural History Museum, who will visit this week, will determine the next stage of the proceedings Mr. McGrath. Obviously there is little chance of excavation from ground level presently, due to the presence of the church and its accompanying graveyard. If there is to be any digging therefore, it’ll have to be done from below.”

  McGrath pointed out the impracticality of such an operation, concluding that any unnecessary disturbance to the damaged tunnel roof might prove disastrous.

  “I don’t consider what we’re proposing to be unnecessary,” Carrington said. The man from the Coroner’s office reinforced this point of view, as did the zoologist.

  McGrath felt outnumbered.

  Chrichton said, “A structural engineer brought in by the Archaeological Society is examining the area as we speak.” He glanced theatrically at his watch for effect. “His report should be with us by tomorrow morning. A final decision can then be made.”

  “It really is academic,” Carrington announced superciliously.

  “What makes you so sure an underground dig is a foregone conclusion?” McGrath wanted to know.

  “I would have thought it was obvious,” Chrichton said brusquely. “Your men are already working in the aperture of the roof. If it is safe for them to enter, surely it follows that it is safe for anyone else?”

  “They are trained in that field of work,” McGrath quickly pointed out. “They have the benefit of knowing what they’re doing.”

  “The implication being that we don’t?” Chrichton said on the back of disapproving murmurs from the rest of the archaeological team.

  “That’s not what I meant at all,” McGrath refuted, feeling the remark was deliberately misinterpreted. “I have no doubt you have expertise when it comes to excavating, but this is different. Attempting to excavate from below ground even under normal circumstances has added risks. With the roof of the underground in a weakened state those risks are greatly enhanced. Surely you take my point?”

  Carrington spoke, ignoring the question. “We’ll also be in touch with the heads of the Church and the Home Office in an attempt to gain their approval to carry out excavation from above ground. That, however, could take time. And that’s something we don’t have.”

  “If you intend carrying out the dig from below ground, then it’ll have to go to the Transport for London Executive.” McGrath maintained.

  Chrichton interjected. “The committee has already given its approval for an archaeological investigation to take place beneath ground. This meeting has been held as a courtesy to yourself, as you will be in the front line.”

  McGrath felt betrayed. If what he’d just been told was true his bosses had acted in true cavalier fashion, having failed to seek proper consultation with those out in the field.

  “Then there’s nothing left to say on the subject,” he said, trying to conceal his anger and frustration.

  There was a sudden knock at the door and a coun
cil official entered the room.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, and beckoned to Gibson, who promptly excused himself. A short time afterwards Gibson returned to announce that more bones had been discovered in the underground roof. The archaeologists exchanged hopeful looks. Kate Marshall addressed the gathering for the first time.

  “There were numerous mass burials in and around London during the Bubonic Plague,” she said, gazing slowly around the room. “Even if ninety percent have been built upon since, it still leaves the possibility that many are awaiting discovery. If we’re right about the age of the bones so far uncovered it seems there is all likelihood that this is one of them.”

  Carrington conferred with Abe Chrichton to the exclusion of the others, saying, “Consultation with museum curators and archivists, particularly in the south east region is a must if we’re to track down historical records on Northwalk around the time of the plague. More particularly, we require information about the site the present church stands on: diaries, manuscripts, any type of account no matter how obscure indicating a mass burial took place there.”

  “Don’t worry professor,” said Chrichton, “Kate and I are on to it already. I’m hopeful a couple of historians I’m acquainted with will be able to help.”

  “Excellent,” said Carrington, who then instructed Kate Marshall to liaise with McGrath during the initial excavation process below ground. “It’s important we cooperate with both the Media and with one another,” he said looking pointedly at McGrath. “We are under no illusions about the dangerous nature of the operation we are undertaking. We are professionals, after all. We intend to work with stealth and God willing, will eventually be allowed to excavate from above ground, leaving the way clear for London Transport to complete their task of rebuilding.”

  “And in the meantime,” McGrath said resentfully, “my men are supposed to down tools until you’ve finished playing around in the dirt.”