A wooden door at the end led into another, broader corridor running left and right. She did not hesitate in selecting a direction.
A short distance along it they came to one of the huge emergency doorway seals. They paused to check beyond it and Stratton took a moment to inspect the huge steel door that had a thick rubber seal lining the inside frame. An electric motor behind the door operated a hydraulic arm that closed it. It was covered in rust and when Stratton grabbed hold of the rubber seal a piece of it broke away.
Rowena saw the rubber crumble in his hand. ‘Good old Soviet maintenance under a new name,’ she muttered.
Beyond the doorway a metal gantry extended mid-height through a cavernous hall that housed several large and noisy machines. The hall was hewn out of the bare rock and reinforced with concrete and steel bracing.
Stratton leaned onto the gantry to look below and saw a couple of engineers in hard hats working on one of the machines. He gave Rowena a gentle nudge. ‘Go for it,’ he said.
Rowena was no less committed than when she had climbed the oil platform and she did not need any further encouragement. Leaving the safety of the doorway she crossed the gantry. Stratton followed close behind and they reached the other end without attracting any attention. They passed into a short rock tunnel with another emergency door seal halfway along it. Beyond lay a cavern of the same size and construction as the previous one.
Rowena crouched on the edge of the gantry to look down into the hall as Stratton joined her. ‘This is the first of three bio-storage rooms,’ she said.
Stratton leaned further out to take a look for himself. Halfway along the gantry a metal staircase led down to the floor. Two huge vats the size of shipping containers were on one side. A web of various-sized piping led from valves on the faces of the vats and threaded their way to yet more valve systems before disappearing into the walls.
‘What’s inside them?’ he asked.
‘The serials mean nothing to me,’ Rowena replied, referring to the Cyrillic stencilling on the faces of the containers. ‘Some of these concoctions are probably unknown outside of here.’
‘How far are we from the lift?’
‘Through there.’ She indicated ahead on the same level. ‘First right, next left, down a long corridor past several offices and into a large room, which I think is a laboratory. Do you want to check it out first?’
‘The longer we hang around the more chance we have of being busted.’ He studied her. ‘If you’re right about all you said then we should just get on with it.’
Rowena looked him in the eye. ‘I’m right about what I said.’
Stratton believed her. He suddenly ducked back, pulling her with him as a man in a bright yellow chemical- hazard suit moved into view on the floor below. It was difficult to hear any sounds above the noise of the machinery from the hall behind them. ‘You ready to do this?’ Stratton asked her.
‘We haven’t worked out how to cause a leak, never mind how to delay it.’
‘We’re past the point of no return,’ he said, looking back the way they had come. ‘We either give up or go for it.’ He knew what her answer would be as she gritted her teeth.
He gripped the assault rifle and walked casually along the gangway to the steps. Rowena followed as he walked down them. Another engineer in a chemical-hazard suit was joining his colleague when they both saw Stratton and Rowena and stopped what they were doing.
Stratton indicated that they should move back to the wall, an instruction which they eagerly obeyed. ‘Tie them,’ he said to Rowena, indicating a coil of rope.
She quickly secured the men’s hands to a large pipe. Not particularly adept with knots and having an ample supply of rope, she overdid the bondage, but at least the men were going nowhere.
The soldier and the scientist joined each other in the middle of the hall to inspect the massive vats of death and figure out how they were going to open them.
‘Why don’t we just set a fire?’ Stratton suggested.
‘Not reliable enough. They have sprinklers,’ she said, indicating them. ‘If they work they could put out the fire before it burned through the skin.’ Rowena turned on her heels, scanning every inch of the room. In a corner lay a collection of gas bottles. She walked over to examine them. ‘Oxygen,’ she announced. The discovery inspired her and she hurried across to the other side of the room to a stack of metal piping. After a brief examination she got to her feet. ‘I have it,’ she said.
‘Tell me.’
‘We make a thermic lance.’
Stratton knew what a thermic lance was, having used miniature versions in the SBS to cut through steel bulkheads. He looked between the pipes and the gas bottles and nodded. ‘How do we get the delay?’
‘We run the pipes beneath the two vats. We’ll have to connect a couple of them. We attach an oxygen bottle to one end. We turn on the gas and ignite the other end of the pipe. It’ll burn like a fuse wire beneath the vats and at twenty thousand degrees will melt through on its way.’
Stratton looked suddenly unsure.
‘What?’ she asked, seeing his doubtful expression.
‘We make a hole in the vat, sure - but what if that’s not enough?’
Rowena saw his point and was suddenly unsure herself.
‘What if we put an oxygen bottle under each vat on top of the pipe?’ he suggested. ‘The lance’ll cut into the oxy bottle and it will explode.’
‘And burst open the vat. I like it.’ She looked impressed with him. ‘You’re starting to turn me on.’
He winked at her. ‘Let’s get on with it.’
The pair set to work, Stratton lifting and shifting the heavy oxygen bottles into position. Rowena threaded the pipes below the vats but paused to think how she was going to connect them together as well as seal the end to the gas cylinder.
She scanned around the room again, saw what she wanted hanging from the belt of one of the engineers, walked over and pulled a roll of heavy-duty tape off its hook. ‘Thanks,’ she said as she made her way back to the pipes.
The engineers watched with growing concern as they fol - lowed the couple’s progress.
The Russian major walked along the narrow corridor towards the pump room, curious about why the lights were off inside. When he walked in the door the first thing he saw was his guard sitting on the ground, holding his head. Then his eyes flashed to the bracket where he had left Stratton and saw the empty chain around the base of it. He kicked the guard brutally in the back, took the radio from his belt and talked rapidly into it as he pulled out a pistol and hurried out of the room.
Half a dozen scruffy soldiers lounged in an untidy guardroom on the surface of the Plesetsky mine, soiled bunk beds along one wall, a cast-iron pig oven stuffed with burning coal glowing in the centre, a pan of potatoes bubbling on top. When the officer’s excited voice boomed over the main communications console they burst into life, grabbed their rifles from a rack by the door and hurried outside.
The major ran along a rock corridor and burst in through the doors of a large laboratory. Jason, cleaned up and wearing a boiler suit, stood with Binning and two Russian technicians. The tile lay on a glass table in two halves with some of its components removed and set beside it.
‘Your man has escaped,’ the officer shouted.
Jason flinched in anger. ‘I warned you! Damn it. Where is he? Is he still in the complex?’
‘There are only two exits on the surface and my guards are there. Nobody has been in or out since I left him.’
‘Make sure it stays that way.’ Jason was livid.
‘Rowena,’ Binning exclaimed.
‘Have you checked with her guard?’ Jason asked the officer.
The Russian looked vexed as he reached for his radio. ‘No one can leave here. Don’t worry. She is locked in her room.’
