by Nigel Seed
Jim said. “Logical, but where the hell do we start? It’s a big valley and we have no other clues.”
Geordie shrugged and they sat in silence, each searching for a way forward. Ivan broke the silence. “I’ve never asked you but do you believe in extra sensory perception?”
Jim looked at him. “ESP? No. Why do you ask?”
“Because there is a beer in that pub down there that is calling out to me.”
“I think I can hear it too,” said Geordie, slipping down off the wall. “A pie and a pint might help with the thinking process.”
The three men walked back down the track into the village and along the main street to the pub close to the hotel they were staying in. They sat around the scarred and stained oak table at the back of the public bar and sipped their pints of local beer.
“Mmm, not bad,” said Ivan, “nearly as good as Welsh beer.”
While they waited for the lunch they had ordered to be brought out to them, Jim pulled out a note pad and pen. “So, what do we know?”
“We know that there are likely to be holes all over these hillsides and some of them might have passageways that lead into Peak Cavern, or might have once,” said Geordie.
“How do we know that?”
“Those brochures from the reception desk. They say there are connections between Peak Cavern and Speedwell Cavern, one of the other show caves. So after nearly two thousand years of use there must be others somewhere too.”
Jim made a note. “What else?”
Ivan rested his elbows on the table. “We know the gold is bloody heavy and would be very awkward to handle over a rough cave floor. So we know there must be a decent track for the truck to get fairly close.”
“Good point! We might be able to see something like that from the air or maybe even on the computer using Google Earth.” Geordie was quite excited.
Jim shook his head. “If these guys were as good as we think they were, they will have picked somewhere that was not too obvious from the air. They would not want the Luftwaffe to have been able to find it. We need something a bit more sensitive than Google.”
“I’ll buy that boss but what have we got available?” said Ivan.
“I think we need the people from JARIC to help us on this one.”
“JARIC boss? Give us a clue.”
“Joint Air Reconnaissance Intelligence Center. They are based down in Cambridgeshire, at RAF Wyton, I think. They should be able to call on any assets we need to survey the valley in quite a lot of detail.”
“OK, so do we try and find something ourselves first or do we wait for them?” said Ivan.
“I think we leave this place for the time being and take a trip to the seaside. We have pretty good clues about the location that the golden coin came from and it would be nice to be able to report at least a partial success to the Prime Minister.”
Chapter 17
The journey from Derbyshire though the Pennine hills was uneventful and quiet with most traffic seeking out the motorways and avoiding the older winding roads. None of them noticed the green sports car that shared the winding roads with them, as they dropped down onto the Lancashire coastal plain. The team drove into Lancaster and crossed the River Lune towards Morecambe. Reaching the sea front, they turned north and followed the instructions from the satnav until they were parked at the gate of the farm. They climbed out of the car and looked over the five bar gate and across the field to the wide expanse of sand and mud that is Morecambe Bay when the tide is out.
“That takes me back,” said Ivan. “Dad used to tell me tales about the quicksand out there. We got hold of a special guide who led us cross the sands. I was bloody terrified the whole way. Especially when he had me feel in the sand with my feet. It started to move and I thought I was going under, but it was just a flatfish that had buried itself.”
“That would have made it a difficult place to stage an amphibious invasion then?” said Geordie.
“Especially with the tides out there. They can sweep in or out faster than you can run. There are people drowned here every year who don’t heed the warnings.”
Jim had been quiet, looking over the farm and its buildings. “From the description we got in Spain I think that old barn at the far end must be what we are looking for. Have you got your building passes with you?”
They both nodded and Jim said, “OK, put them on. It will make us look more official, nobody really looks at passes. Our story for the farmer is that we are from the Lancaster City Council Engineer´s Department. Just follow my lead and try to look official and annoyed.”
They walked down the farm track to the house at the left. As they neared the door it opened and the man who stepped out said, “And what do you want?”
“Good morning, sir,” said Jim, “we are from the Lancaster City Council works and engineering department and we need to speak to you about your barn.”
“What about my barn?”
“I understand you are the tenant on this farm? How long have you been here now?”
“Three years. Now what about my barn?”
“That barn was condemned a little over seven years ago and the owner was instructed to demolish it. We have just found out that the demolition never took place. Can you explain why not?”
“No, I can´t. The barn was fenced off with notices telling people not to enter when I got here. There was no mention of demolition.”
“I’m afraid we will have to inspect the building to decide what steps are needed. Is there a gate in the fencing around it?”
“Yes. I´ll get the key and take you down there.”
“No need for that. Actually, I would prefer you not to come with us in case there is an accident. You would not be covered by the council’s liability insurance.”
The farmer stepped back into the house. He was back a moment later with the key. Handing it over he said, “I’ll be in the top field, over there beyond that hedge, if you need me.”
Jim thanked him and the three men walked around the house and across the field to the old barn. Once they were clear of the house Ivan looked back over his shoulder. “Boss, you’ve been around civil servants too long. You lie beautifully.”
They reached the barn, being careful to step around the cow dung in the field. They found the gate. The padlock was overdue lubrication, but they managed to open it.
“Geordie, make sure we are not interrupted will you. Slip the chain and lock back on that gate.”
While the gate was being locked behind them, Jim and Ivan went to the main door of the barn and pulled it open. They found themselves in a typical disused barn. Dusty farm machinery and broken tools were dumped everywhere with pride of place going to a trio of old and battered tractors in the middle of the floor. A Morris Oxford car, that had once been green, stood to one side on deflated tyres, half covered with a dirty tarpaulin. The walls were hung with more rusty and broken tools and they could see the farmhouse through the gaps in the wall planking. There were old metal advertising signs nailed to the wall.
They split up and walked around, looking for any anomaly that might show them the location of the secret hide. After fifteen minutes of careful scrutiny, they had seen nothing out of the ordinary. Ivan climbed up onto the seat of one of the tractors and sat looking around. Jim and Geordie wandered back to stand by him.
“Any ideas?” said Jim.
“Are we sure this is the right place?” said Geordie. “I don’t know what that guy in Spain told you, but I can see damn all in here of interest.”
“This was the place he indicated. Don’t you agree Ivan?”
Ivan looked down. “Yeah, I guess so. Nothing else here fits the bill.”
They walked around the barn again and then Ivan said, “Either of you read the Sharpe books?”
“I have,” said Jim, “there was a pile of them left by the previous tenant of my billet in Afghanistan during my last tour there. Damned good stories. So what?”
“Do you remember that the auth
or, Cornwell I think, tells about how the French army used to live by plundering the farms and villages as they moved? The people used to hide their food and grain, but the French got really good at finding it.”
“Sorry, I still don’t see the relevance.”
“Well, we can see there is nothing here above ground, right? And they used to pour water on the floor of the huts to see if it drained away. If it did, they could tell there was a void below. Worth a try here eh?”
“Damn me, that might just be worth a try,” said Jim. “Is there a supply of water here?”
Geordie headed for the door. “There’s a cattle trough outside and they must have had a way of filling that.” He was back moments later pulling a dirty black hosepipe. “It’s hooked up to a tap near the trough and the water is still connected.”
Jim picked up the end of the hose and told Geordie to turn on the tap. Ivan climbed back up on the tractor and watched as the water started to soak the hard packed earth floor of the barn. Jim spread the water around and puddles formed around him. After a few minutes, he called to Geordie to shut the water off.
There was slight sag to his shoulders. “Nice idea, Ivan, but looks like it’s a bust.”
Ivan grinned. “Not sure about that boss. Step up here and look.”
Jim climbed up beside him on the tractor and Ivan said, “Look over there in front of the Morris. The water is pooling in straight narrow lines. That could be some kind of a trapdoor into the floor.”
They dropped down from the tractor and walked across the barn as Geordie joined them.
“Any spades around?” said Jim.
“Some over in the corner,” said Geordie turning away.
He was back in seconds with an armful of old, dirty, but serviceable spades and picks. Ivan took a pick and dragged the tip along the straight narrow puddles to define the edge of the area. Geordie and Jim started to shovel the dirt between those lines and after a very few moments a metal door began to appear.
“Well, we seem to have something, but I can´t see any way of opening it,” said Ivan.
“That´s because they hid the mechanism,” said a voice from behind them.
They spun round to find themselves looking down the barrel of a large military issue revolver held in a very steady hand.
Chapter 18
Jim tore his eyes away from the barrel of the weapon and looked up into a pair of steady brown eyes. He took in the sober suit and the clerical collar of the old man who stood before them.
“Good morning, Reverend,” he said, “do you always carry a Webley .38 when you visit your flock?”
“Not always. But I do when people come into this barn and search for things they have no business with.”
“I see. So what do you intend to do about us? If you report us to the police then the story of what is hidden here will come out, instead of it being returned to its rightful owners.”
“Nice try. But if you came from the rightful owners as you call them you would have used the proper code word by now and my task would be over.”
“Task?”
“My father was a very young curate when the war started and he was recruited to the group who built this hide. He passed the task of guarding it to me just after I was ordained and took over his Parish. I had hoped this day would never come because of what I have to do.”
“I think the task you were given is a little out of date,” said Jim. “If you let me go into my jacket over there I can show you that we are legitimate.”
The vicar´s eyes darted towards the jacket for just a second, but that was enough. Ivan flung his spade at the priest and then launched himself after it. The weapon came up and to Ivan, the barrel of the big pistol looked like the top of a rain barrel as he closed with it. He heard the hammer fall as he struck the man’s chest. Both of them fell to the floor in a cloud of dust from the earth floor and Ivan grabbed the man´s wrist and held it out to one side. The priest struggled to bring the weapon round to fire but Ivan’s powerful hand prevented him. Geordie darted forward and gently prised the pistol from his grip, then handed it to Jim.
“Let him up, Ivan. I think we owe the good Reverend an explanation before we go any further.”
Ivan rolled to one side before he stood up, then he and Geordie helped the old man to his feet. His face was flushed and his eyes were brimming with tears as he brushed the dirt from his torn suit.
He looked at Jim and said, “So what happens now?”
Jim smiled as kindly as he could. “Now we explain who we are and relieve you of the task you have carried for so many years. I suspect you haven’t changed the ammunition in this pistol since your father gave it to you. Is that right?”
“Yes. With the gun laws in this country and the secrecy of this place we had to save the ammunition for this task.”
“Well, luckily for us, ammunition deteriorates with time and it looks like these bullets have failed. But we won’t test the rest just now. Sit down, vicar and let me tell you a story.”
Geordie pulled a box across and the old man sat down wearily. Jim sat opposite him on the tow bar of an old plow and explained who they were and why they were there. He handed over the Prime Minister’s letter and waited while the old man read it.
The old man looked up from the paper and said, “But why didn’t you just use the code word? It would have saved all this unpleasantness and my suit would not be torn.”
“The code word has been forgotten,” said Jim. “All that wartime secrecy was too effective and has backfired a little. What code word should we have used?”
“Cromwell. Rather apt to use the name of the Lord Protector, don’t you think?”
“Is that the same code word for all the special groups?”
The old man looked puzzled. “All the special groups? There are more?”
“Yes. We are pretty sure there are four groups entrusted with protecting material such as you have here.”
“What material do I have here? My father impressed its importance on me from the age of about eight, but he said I was never to open the door and look, so I haven’t. Not once in all these years. I just check now and then to make sure it has not been disturbed, I can see this barn from my front window, which is why I came over when I saw you.”
“If you will show us how the hatch opens we can show you what you have been guarding. Your father didn’t lie to you, it is incredibly important.”
The old man groaned as he stood slowly and walked to the corner of the barn, waving Geordie to follow him.
As they reached the corner he pointed and said, “If you move that flat stone you will find a metal ring. When you pull on that it tensions a cable under the floor and that pulls out a bolt that secures the hatch.”
Geordie bent down and heaved the stone aside to reveal a recess in the floor with a metal ring in it. He looked to Jim for confirmation and when he nodded, the big ex-miner pulled at the ring. There was a creaking from below them and the floor area they had been clearing lifted at one end. Only an inch or two, but there was a definite movement.
Ivan moved towards it, picking up a pickaxe as he went.
“Stop!” said the old man. “My father made me promise never to open it, but he also said if I ever found it open I should disconnect the wire inside before I lifted it. I think it may be booby trapped.”
Ivan lowered himself to the ground and looked through the gap between the hatch and the frame. “Bloody hell! He’s right, there is a wire here. It looks like we can lift this a couple of more inches and then it will go tight and do something nasty.” He rolled onto his back and looked at the vicar. “I think I owe you one, Padre.”
They searched in a box of rusty tools until they found a large pair of old and very stiff pliers. Ivan returned to the hatch and lowered himself down again. He slid the pliers into the gap and prepared to cut the wire.
“You three might want to stand behind that tractor just in case I screw this up,” he said.
Discretion being
the better part of valor, the three men retired behind the tractor and waited. Ivan closed the jaws of the pliers and after three or four cuts managed to sever the wire. He raised himself from the floor again and wiped the sweat from his brow, no point letting the others know how nervous he had been. He fetched a length of old rope from the barn wall and looped it around the corner of the hatch, then he went and stood behind the hinge end and started to pull. The door rose slowly, then toppled back onto the old Morris Oxford and stopped with a loud reverberating clang.
“OK, guys, come and take a look!”
The three men came from behind the tractor and joined Ivan at the edge of the hole.
Jim rested his hand on Ivan´s shoulder and said quietly, “You OK?”
“Yes boss, no problem.”
They looked down into the hole and found themselves staring at a concrete lined void about four feet deep that turned into a low passageway that disappeared out of sight.
“OK. Who wants to be first?” Jim said.
Chapter 19
“Has to be my turn to go first this time,” said Geordie, stepping forward and dropping into the hole. He ducked down and looked along the passageway. “Black as a shopkeeper’s heart in here, boss. We’re going to need flashlights.”
He turned to the side of the hole and removed a grenade, which had been linked to the entry hatch, from a recess. He held the striker arm down on the old grenade very carefully until he had found the safety pin. He worked the pin back into place, pushing out the dirt of seventy years. He handed the, now safe, weapon up to Ivan and drew a deep breath.
“I can help you with the light,” said the old man, “it’s the least I can do after trying to shoot you.”
He felt in his pocket and brought out a small silver colored flashlight and handed it down to Geordie.
“Take it slow, Geordie. That first booby trap might not have been the only one,” said Jim. He turned to the old man “Thanks for that. I feel I really ought to know your name. I am Major James Wilson, by the way.” He held out his hand.
