Tunnels 03, Freefall

Roger and what I thought he'd been up to. I'm sorry, but I wasn't exactly forthcoming."
    "About what?" Ben Wilbrahams asked, testing the weight of the bag in his hands.
    "I've been thinking about it a lot, and I've decided you should know everything. In that bag is my husband's journal. It covers the day just before he went off, and I'd like you to--"
    Hearing a hiss, she stopped abruptly. She whirled around to see an old man in a shirt which was too big for him, and a correspondingly massive bow tie. He was shaking his head disapprovingly. Putting his finger to his lips, he hissed again, like an asthmatic turtle.
    Mrs. Burrows took the chair next to Ben Wilbrahams. "Go on -- have a look," she urged him.
    He opened the bag and took out the journal, and read it all the way through there and then as Mrs. Burrows watched him.
    "Fascinating stuff," he said as he closed the covers.
    "You know... when I stepped out in front of your car, I believe--" The old man across the way hissed at her again as she was talking, but she studiously ignored him, "--a couple of those pallid men -- or men-in-hats as Roger also referred to them -- were after me."
    "Are you sure?" Ben Wilbrahams asked.
    "Pretty sure -- I got a good look at them. But couldn't you use this incident and what's in this journal as material for one of your TV programs?"
    Ben Wilbrahams rubbed his temples thoughtfully.
    "Look, Celia, it's one thing to dredge up oddball newspaper reports from years ago, but I think I'd be pushing it if I were to include anything about you -- or these things your husband's written," he said, holding up the journal. "As he's the subject of an ongoing police investigation, I also might land myself in hot water if I make any unsubstantiated claims." Ben Wilbrahams was thoughtful for a few moments, as he considered the label on the front of the journal. "But I'd still like to hang on to this, and chew it over. Would that be okay?"
    "Of course it is. And now I've got to get to work -- they're short-handed this afternoon." Mrs. Burrows rose from her chair and, as she was passing the old man she leant over and snatched hold of the pencil he was using. She snapped it in two, the loud crack filling the library, then dropped the pieces in his lap.
    "Shhhh yourself!" she said, and promptly left.
    "The cheek of it," the old man complained loudly, as Ben Wilbrahams hid his smirk behind his book.

    * * * * *

    Will and his father investigated every inch of the harbor. In another of the squat sheds they found a fiberglass launch in a wall rack, which looked to be serviceable.
    'So, maybe we can get this show on the road," Dr. Burrows proclaimed, rubbing his hands together. He was whistling madly as they strolled down the length of the quay to return to the building with the switching panel in it. Once inside, they both glanced at the flickering needle on the main dial before they made their way to the large door at the end of the room.
    Dr. Burrows considered it for a moment. "I'd hazard a guess that this is a blast door."
    "A blast door?" Will repeated. "Wh--?"
    "Let's just see what's inside, shall we?" Dr. Burrows interrupted him.
    "Fine," Will said a little tetchily, throwing his father a look. "Is it my turn to open it, then?" he asked as he took hold of the wheel-like mechanism.
    "Be my guest," Dr. Burrows replied, touching the uppermost of the three massive hinges. He watched as his son spun the wheel round and round, until it clunked and Will found it wouldn't go any further.
    "Heavy," Will observed as he yanked on the large door, and it wouldn't shift even the smallest degree.
    "Blast door," Dr. Burrows said again, as if he was teasing his son. "I'll give you a hand."
    They pulled together and it slowly began to open, issuing a low groan. There was a whoosh of air, as if the pressure inside was higher.
    The two Burrows nodded at each other and stepped inside. The first surprise was that a passageway stretched before them, its curved roof about fifteen meters high.
    "A tube tunnel?" Will murmured to himself.
    It was lined with what appeared to be super-heavy oblong iron plates, each one bolted to the next, and with something like black tar sealing the gaps between them. The passage was brightly lit by a row of continuous lights hung down its center. To either side of the lights were a variety of cables and pipes, the thickest of which had offshoots that ended in grilles, where fresh air seemed to be coming in. Will could feel the down draught