‘This way! Hurry!’ Bethan shouted as she grabbed a couple of children and began to pull herself back up the stairs using the rail. The adults followed. A child lost her grip and screamed as she was swept away and out of sight. There was nothing the adults could do but press on.
Bethan made it to the top of the stairs and around the corner. The water was still rising but the force of the flow had reduced.
Back in the control room they could see Bethan carrying children with others behind her.
‘They’ll make it to the doors,’ someone muttered.
‘No they won’t,’ another controller shouted. ‘The doors are closing!’
They could all see the monitor showing the massive doors moving to the closed position.
‘Keep them open!’ the senior controller shouted.
A controller kept punching a button but to no effect. ‘It’s not working!’ she shouted! ‘I can’t stop them.’
‘For God’s sake open them,’ the senior controller pleaded.
‘They’re being overridden at the TFL HQ,’ an operator shouted.
The senior controller picked up the phone and desperately punched in a number.
Bethan reached the door as it sealed shut. She banged on it, shouting for it to be opened. She looked around for a CCTV camera and waved frantically at it while holding the children.
A controller buried her face in her hands, unable to look as the water quickly rose to Bethan’s shoulders. Seconds later it was lapping against her face as she trod water. Bethan had to release one of the children in order to keep afloat. Everyone in the control room who dared to watch could not believe what they were seeing.
Minutes later the tunnel was full and Bethan held tightly to the child as they struggled to suck air from the gap at the ceiling. The gap quickly disappeared and she was completely immersed. Seconds later Bethan succumbed and released the dead child in her final throes.
It was over. Bethan floated lifelessly. The senior controller was the only one who could stomach watching the monitor. Not that he was really focused on anything. He was in total shock.
Epilogue
Gunnymede stood on a bridge over the Thames up the road from the Legoland building holding what was left of the bottle of Scotch while staring down onto the water.
Aristotle walked up the street and stopped a few metres from him.
Gunnymede held out the bottle to him.
‘I won’t, thank you,’ Aristotle said.
‘I’m trying to imagine being under there right now. It’s very cold and lonely.’
‘They estimate two hundred dead.’
‘Not a bad day’s work for Saleem.’
‘Two hundred is a lot better than a few thousand.’
‘I only care about one of those,’ Gunnymede said, taking a drink.
‘There’s been no explanation for the doors yet. No one is owning up to closing them. There’s a suggestion it was a technical problem. The failsafe position for the doors is closed.’
‘We’ll have to blame someone. It’ll probably fall at the feet of some engineer currently on holiday somewhere who hasn’t even heard of this yet.’
‘Harlow told me to tell you that despite everything, it was a job well done. You must accept it could’ve been a complete disaster if you hadn’t worked it out when you did.’
‘I didn’t. Bethan worked it out. She’s the hero of the hour.’ He took a drink. ‘Saleem told me the source of the plan was a British politician.’
‘Saleem?’ Aristotle found that interesting. ‘I don’t suppose he told you who.’
‘He was about to but he had to shoot off. A meeting in hell he had to attend.’ Gunnymede looked beyond Aristotle to see Neve approaching. ‘Ah! Neve. Step into my office. The Greek was just leaving.’
Aristotle decided that was probably a good idea and walked away.
‘Arsehole,’ Gunnymede muttered, taking a sip.
Neve took Aristotle’s place and leaned against the parapet to look at the water.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘We covered all of that. Two hundred dead. Faulty watertight doors. Congratulations to me.’
‘She was very brave. I didn’t appreciate her.’
‘You didn’t have to. I didn’t either. Actually that’s not true. I just didn’t want to. So, there’s a vacancy if you want to fill it.’
‘I think I’ll pass if that’s okay.’
‘Wise choice. Life expectancy is not too great for the women in my life.’
He held up the bottle. ‘To Captain America’s sister!’ He emptied the last of the Scotch into his mouth and threw the bottle as far as he could into the river.
‘If you want to blame someone, blame Spangle,’ she said.
‘Of course. Spangle is everything. But there is a positive side. As long as he’s free, so am I.’
Gunnymede walked away.
Gunnymede was sprawled on his couch in his clothes. Several empty bottles of assorted alcoholic beverages littered the coffee table, a full ashtray and empty fag packet amongst them.
A persistent knock on the door eventually woke him up and he struggled to sit up. The knocking continued and he checked his watch. It was a bright day outside which he far from appreciated.
He got to his feet, stumbled to the door and opened it.
Charlie was standing there.
‘What the fuck do you want?’ Gunnymede asked.
‘I need to talk to you.’
‘I’m not in the mood,’ Gunnymede said, closing the door.
Charlie stopped it from closing fully.
Gunnymede opened it again and looked at him coldly. ‘If I could attempt it without falling over I’d punch you.’
‘It won’t take a minute ...
