mesh grilles of the cage.
It lasted only a moment, and then the cage fell past and out of the guide rails, accelerating down the shaft. It was utterly dark, and the cage turned from side to side in the four guide ropes as it picked up speed. Matt and Bergman switched on their flashlights in the rushing darkness, and the concrete lining of the shaft sleeted by, dark grey in the gloom. Pipes carrying water and compressed air, and heavy-duty electrical cables, snaked past in undulating streams.
The air grew dank, and the mine-smell filled their nostrils. Matt breathed deeply of the familiar air as the cage fell past a section of shaft that glistened wetly from some leaking joint in a water main.
The cage’s construction – an open metal framework, and wire mesh covering the outside – allowed Matt and Bergman to look upwards and see the diminishing square of red light from the shaft station that they had just left, and look down beneath their feet, into the blackness of the shaft.
‘Take a look,’ Matt said, pointing down, and clicking off his flashlight. Bergman did the same, and stared down into the darkness. Deep below the cage, he saw that the darkness was not absolute; there were small spots of red light, strung out like beads in the shaft below him.
One was coming closer, and as Bergman watched, it expanded towards him and flew past. Bergman had a moment’s glimpse of a wreckage-lined shaft station, and a large sign that read 100 METRES ALTITUDE, and then it was gone, vanishing upwards into the darkness.
Depths – and altitudes – in the mine were referenced to the surface of the ice field. Since the hangar levels were considerably higher than this, in the rising ground at the base of the mountains, they had some way to descend before they even reached zero level.
They went past two more shaft stations, at zero and one hundred metres depth. As they passed the 100 level station, a sudden whoosh close by the cage marked the ascent of the counterweight in its twin guide ropes, flying past on its journey to the surface.
After that, there were no more shaft stations, and the cage fell in darkness. Matt and Bergman stared at the walls sleeting by, mesmerised by the long fall down the shaft.
Eventually, the smooth motion of the cage was interrupted with a slight jerk, and the cage’s downward plunge slackened as the cage drew near to the final shaft station, on the 400 level, 600 metres below the hangars.
The cage slowed to walking pace, then slower still, so that it crept down the shaft towards the station. Guide rails moved inward from their parking positions at the walls of the shaft, and the cage slid into them. Red light flooded into the cage as it drew level with the station, and stopped.
The cage bounced slowly up and down as the long length of the wire rope absorbed the kinetic energy of their motion. The motion faded, and the brake blocks slammed home, locking the cage in the shaft.
The shaft station was a square cutout in the curved wall of the shaft, with the familiar heavy-duty mesh grille protecting the opening. The doors slid aside, and Matt stepped across the gap, not bothering to extend the short gangway.
Bergman followed, and he had a glimpse of the gulf still below the cage as he stepped across. He was acutely aware that there was nothing to stop him falling into the gap. The shaft did not stop here, but continued down for another fifteen metres or so, to provide a sump for any water that found its way into the shaft. Something glistened way below; the surface of a lake that had never seen the Sun, and Bergman shivered.
The two men started walking along the main haulage way, which led away from the main shaft station, heading towards the ice field. It was a major transportation route, and when the mine was operational, trains had shuttled back and forth along its length, carrying men and materials between the main shaft and the deeper parts of the mine.
The passage followed the familiar pattern, with roof supports at regular intervals and a rail track on one side. Pipes and cables ran along the walls, taking power, communications, water and compressed air into the mine.
Every 300 metres, the passage was punctuated by a set of sliding pressure doors in their heavy-duty metal frames. Matt stopped by the first set of doors and examined them.
‘Another set of doors wide open, that should have closed the moment the mine pressure dropped,’ he commented bitterly. ‘I wish Elliott could see this.’
‘No sign of any damage to the doors,’ Bergman observed. ‘What do you think stopped them from closing?’
Matt started walking again as he considered the question.
‘I can’t imagine a situation where the personnel would wilfully override the doors from closing automatically in an emergency. The only thing I can think of is that the doors somehow failed to close, and they didn’t realise in time.’ Matt looked down as he walked.
‘I suppose it’s possible they were distracted by the explosion, and everything else going on, so that they didn’t notice until it was too late. But, you know why I don’t buy any of this?’ He glanced at Bergman. ‘I
They walked in silence for a while.
‘The mutiny theory worries me,’ Bergman said at last. ‘I mean, it’s clear that there was some kind of fight between two groups, and that wasn’t something that anybody expected, not PMI, not the relatives. Just suppose – just suppose none of this was PMI’s fault?’ He watched Matt’s face carefully for his reaction.
‘What about the hangar doors being open? Why would anyone want to deliberately
‘I don’t have answers for that,’ Bergman said slowly, ‘I guess all I’m saying is, we’ve got to keep an open mind. I mean, we’re only assuming that the ship crashed because of sabotage. I know you’re not going to like the idea, but what if Foster made some kind of mistake on landing? Misjudged the fuel or something? I’m sure she believes that she didn’t do anything wrong, but what if she did? You know she was on suspension before she was assigned to the mission.’
Matt felt anger rush through him at the suggestion that Clare could have done anything wrong. The strength of the emotion surprised him. He knew his feelings for Clare were getting the better of him, and he had to put them aside. None of them were infallible: not him, not Bergman, not Clare, nobody. If he could make a mistake, so could Clare.
They walked on, and eventually Matt said: ‘You’re right. We’ve got to consider every possibility.’ His voice was reluctant. ‘But that one doesn’t feel right to me.’
Bergman said nothing, and let the subject drop, but he stole a quick glance at his companion a few minutes later, and saw that Matt was still deep in thought.
They had been walking for some time, and had travelled nearly a kilometre along the passage, passing two more pressure doors along the way. Just after the last door, they came upon a lifeless mining robot, slumped against the wall of the passage, staring at the ground with its dead eyes. They debated if they should try to restart it or not, but couldn’t think of a use for it, and left it where it lay.
Three hundred metres further on, they came to a fork in the haulage way; one way continued ahead, through another set of pressure doors, while the other curved to the left. Matt took the left-hand turn, and after a few metres, the passage opened up into another shaft station.
‘Sub-main shaft,’ Matt announced, ‘let’s hope it’s working.’
There was no cage at the station, but the safety gate had been forced aside, and stood wide open. The noise of falling water came from the shaft.
They clung on to the sides of the opening, and looked down, their flashlights piercing the gloom of the shaft.
Immediately below the station, the guide rails for the cage extended down for several metres, then flared outwards. The wire rope that hauled the cage plunged down into the exact centre of the dark shaft. Just below the guide rails, a steady torrent of water flowed out from the wide opening of the wind slit, and cascaded down the shaft, bouncing off the pipework and fittings fastened to the sides. Sprays of escaping droplets disappeared down the shaft in an endless fall into the abyss. A warm, moist air welled up from the shaft, carrying a faint smell of
