The Collectors - Book Four: Diamonds and Sand (The Collectors Series 4) (4 page)

             
“Minor detail, how the fuck do we get up there?”

             
“Give me one of those club hammers. Stand clear.” With enthusiasm, Bear struck the roof. “This brickwork’s in good nick but that’s the entrance whether we like it or not. We can go back or you can sit on my shoulders and give it a go. Your decision.”

             
“Don’t give me grief when a ton of shit falls on your head. Here, hammer, chisel and crowbar. Don’t drop them. Ready.”

             
Bear lifted Petros as he would a child onto his shoulders.

“Steady.”

“For fuck’s sake get on with it, you tart.”

Petros
hammered one brick, striking it from every angle. “Give me the crowbar and close your eyes.”

The
brick broke apart. Debris large and small bounced off Bear’s hard hat and tumbled to the tunnel floor.

Petros directed the beam of
his torch through the hole. “I remember something like this in China. The shaft goes straight up.”

“Y
ou sure?”

“Yes.”

“Well while you’re on my shoulders, remove the rest.”

A few
blows of the hammer and the rest dropped to the floor.

Bear lowered Petros to t
he ground and brushed the dust from his overalls. The powerful beam of his torch swept the shaft above them. “I can see metal steps or what’s left of them. Get back on my shoulders, grab the rim and pull yourself into the tunnel.”

Petros shoved
his shoulders into the shaft. The beam of his torch shone on another swastika. “Problems, Bear. Whoever constructed this was not going to make it easy. We need a ladder.”

Together they started to make the
ir way back to Jacob. On passing the gated entrance to a tunnel, they stopped and looked at each other.

“If we can lift that metal gate off its hinges we have a ladder,” said Bear.

“Brain of Britain you
’re not but that’s a brilliant idea. How come I didn’t think of it?”

With brute force and a crowbar, the gate came free of its hinges. The metal although rusty remained heavy but between them, they placed it in position.

“I’ll batter the
bricks this time,” said Bear.

“You’re welcome.”

Bear clambered up their makeshift ladder and stopped where it met the smaller shaft. With his feet in position he rested his back against the wall and thumped the brickwork. The rubble he dragged towards him and let it tumble to the ground. The din as it struck echoed along the larger shafts. “This one is smaller. Pass me a torch.” With the aid of the light, he peered into the duct. “It slopes up and the air appears ok. I’m going in.”

With outstretched arms
and a torch in his mouth, he pulled himself along the shaft into a brick-built chamber. “Fuck shit.” His heart hammered but he remained frozen at the sight of the rust-coated object on which his hand rested. On a mound of earth lay, its nose buried, a large bomb. He shifted his hand and listened. “Thank fuck for that,” he whispered. With care, he retreated into the shaft and stopped. In the chamber, many boxes with a blue Star of David painted on them rested on others. “Bingo, the forgotten treasure and a bomb. What more could an idiot ask for?”

His eyes glanced at
a door in the furthest wall. “Interesting.” Bear shuddered as he considered his thoughts. “I must be fucking mad.” He dragged his carcass back along the shaft. At the entrance, he swept his torch in every direction before making a move.

On his
left side, he slithered into the chamber. A metre away from the bomb he stopped and rested. His heart pounded, he had made an unjustifiable mistake. He stared at the silent menace. “For seventy years you’ve waited until an idiot arrived.” He shouted, “PK, can you hear me?”

“Yes,” came the
faint but audible reply.

“I’ve cocked up big time.”

“On my way.” Petros’ torch flashed along the clammy upper tunnel illuminating the chamber opening. “What’s your problem?” His eyes settled on the rusted cylinder. “Ah, a big one. And I never like surprises. I suggest we get the fuck out of here.”

“I want to open this door,” said Bear.

“Give me one good reason why?”

“To see where it leads.”

“I always knew you were mad. Here we are close to a thousand pounds of explosive which just might go bang and you want to investigate a door.”

“I
doubt that it will. Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?”

“
It’s making my sphincter flutter and you’re still mad. What are you waiting for? Open the fucking door.”

Bear placed his hand on the handle, tensed his
muscles, and prepared to pull. To his surprise, the door once clear of its frame swung open to reveal a rough shaft. He shone his torch along its length. His eyes took in the round wooden posts and roof supports spaced every metre. “Fancy a look see?”

Petros suppressed a shudder.
“If I’m going to leave this planet in a blaze of glory, why not?” He eased his way across the stone floor and stood. “You first and if you find a big hole jump in.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist
over a hunk of scrap metal. At least the air’s breathable.”

“Yes but why?
”

They came to a crossroads. Both men used their torches to illuminate each tunnel in turn.

“Follow the fresh air,” said Petros.

Bear took his hammer and smashed
the side twice. “Marking our route just in case we have to come back.”

“And what
gems of wisdom are you ready to spout?”

“No one has been along these since the German army burnt the ghetto to the ground. These aren’t drains but escape routes used by the Poles and Jews into the city. I read somewhere the Germans never entered the system because they were shit scared. I wonder where they lead?”

Petros smiled, creases formed around his eyes. “I’m not going back so choose.
”

Ten metres further into the passage Bear stopped and stared a
t the skeleton of a man, his fingers wrapped around a sub machine gun. Two German stick grenades lay on the ground beside him. He picked up the weapon and checked the magazine. “Half a dozen rounds. Bet he was the rear guard.”

“He died from his wounds. Look at his left arm
, busted in three places.”

“Bled to death.”

Petros shifted the beam of his torch. “There are more bones and weapons in a recess. Five skeletons of different sizes. Two have the infamous Star of David on their jackets. Come on, Bear, this is the last resting place of brave people. I’d like to leave them in peace.”

Bear stood for a few moments muttering.

“What did you say?”

“As my mate Buddha decrees. Do not dwell on the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present. That’s what these
people did before they died.”

Petros cocked his head.
“Do you believe that crap?”

With e
very nerve on edge, Bear strode further into the tunnel. “Yes.” Something like a smile crossed his lips. “Read them all, The Koran, Bible old and new, The Torah and others. My opinion, they say the same, just use different words.”

“Why would you
read such stuff, when you think of the business you took part in?”

“
I was searching for an answer?”

“Did you find it?”

“For me, Buddha made sense. His words touch on every aspect of our lives and bring meaning to it.”

“
Meanwhile we’re underground with a bomb. What does that mean?”

“In action there’
s no distinction between right and wrong. Perhaps we should have acted sensibly but then we chose our path. You followed because you did, no more no less. Let’s keep going.”

“Faith in something I cannot see
, I find difficult.”

“What the fuck,” said Bear as he entered a cavernous vault littered with
rusty weapons that appeared to have been abandoned.

Petros started to walk the length of the wall to his left.
Twenty metres along, he discovered a door. “This way.”

“I’m not so sure, there’s another two doors over here. One set in each wall.
”

“Dungeon
s and dragons,” muttered Petros.

“This is not a game
, PK, and I doubt if we’ll be burnt alive by a dragon.”

“
No, just incinerated.”

Bear gave a reassuring smile. “Choose a door
, any door, and win a prize.”

Petros nodded.
“This one.”

“Well chosen
, sir.” Bear smashed the surround with the club hammer, dropped it and heaved. It opened to reveal tons of debris. With a shrug he said, “Let’s try that one.”               With help from Petros, they repeated the procedure. The door groaned on its hinges and opened wide enough for them to squeeze through.

“Come on
, Bear.”

With his head in the opening
, Petros listened. “I hear voices.”

“What are we waiting for?”

Both men enteredanother passagewa
y
bu
t
this time it was of solid construction.

Bear
stopped and examined the mason’s mark on one stone block. “1860 or thereabouts.”

Pe
tros stared at him. “Big deal. Where’s the fresh air coming from so I can breathe it again?”

Bear grunted and too
k the lead. They walked along the passage until it ended. Bear shone his torch up a vertical shaft. “Could be a well or they used a ladder. Either way I’ll climb to the top as if it’s a rock chimney.”

At first Petros had not realised what he was saying but peering up the shaft it became clear. “Okay
, so you reach the top. What are you going to do then?”

“No fucking idea but I
’ll cross that bridge when I get there. Listen, those voices are singing. If I can hear them I’ll make sure they hear me.”

He climbed into the shaft and
put his back against the wall. With skill, he used his arms and feet to climb. Half way, he rested. “Piece of cake, PK.” On reaching the top, he found himself in a rectangular chamber. “Incredible,” he muttered as he listened to the singing. “I reckon whoever they are, aren’t far away. I wonder?”

With ease, he crouched with head bent and positioned his sho
ulders against the top. He tensed his muscles and shoved. “Move you bastard.” It rose and dropped and the singing changed to screams of terror. Again, he pushed but this time it lifted with ease and didn’t drop back. Hands grabbed and dragged him out.

His eyes widened as he stared at the fear
-filled faces of a church congregation. “Anyone speak English or Russian?”

Everyone focused on the priest.

A
fresh-faced Catholic priest, with sharp eyes, stood before him. “I speak English.” He brushed his right hand through thick black hair. “Who the devil are you and how did you get here? You have desecrated the resting place of one of Poland’s war heroes.” His furious voice roared.

Bear frowned. “I hate to tell you this
, Padre, but there’s no one in here.”

The
priest peered into the empty tomb and gave a wry grimace. He turned to his congregation. “We are in no danger from this man but I must take him to the bishop. Please leave and say nothing of what you have seen today.”

One by one
, as if in a trance, the men, women and children departed.

“Who are you?” asked the priest.

“Searching for a way out of the tunnels.”

“
I am Father John. Come with me please.”

“Be
ar, what the fuck are you doing?” shouted Petros.

The yell was so cl
ear everyone turned to the source.

“Talking to a priest.”

“Shit, sorry.”

“There are two of you?” asked F
ather John.

Bear nodded. “Two live ones and
in the tunnels, many who deserve a good burial. You wouldn’t have a rope or ladder handy?”

Father John pursed his lips. “In the
bell tower there are workmen, they have a ladder.”

“I’ll be back,” said Bear as he strolled away.

A few minutes elapsed before he returned with the ladder and Petros clambered back into the real world.

“You were going to take us to see the bishop,” said Bear. “Out of interest how old is he?”

“He’s sixty-seven but why do you ask?”

Bear looked at him for a few moments. “He might not be old enough.”

Bemused, Father John said, “Please follow me.”