‘Exactly,’ said the professor, ‘a direct relationship. But nothing you can
prove
in a laboratory. It’s the same with the green death and Panorama Chemicals. We know that no one in Llanfairfach, or anywhere else, went green and died before Panorama Chemicals arrived.’
What the professor said made sense, but the Brigadier doubted he could make the case to higher authorities. ‘Anyway, we haven’t time to talk now. I must get down that mine to save the Doctor and Miss Grant.’
Dave Griffiths looked up. ‘That’s exactly what the Doctor said you shouldn’t do. Too dangerous, he said.’
‘I think I should be best judge of that,’ said the Brigadier, moving to the door.
‘On what is your judgement based?’ asked Professor Jones.
The Brigadier paused. ‘What do you mean?’
‘How can you be the best judge of the situation down there when you haven’t been in the mine?’
‘Good grief, man, you don’t think going down a coal mine is going to frighten me!’
‘I am sure that you’re an exceptionally brave soldier,’ said the professor. ‘But the Doctor sent an order that no one should go down into the mine after him. Now why don’t you do what you’re told and stay up here on the surface? Show a bit of obedience and discipline, man!’
The Brigadier gave thought to that. It certainly made a lot of sense. The Doctor had been in many tight scrapes before, and had managed to save himself usually un-aided. Above all, if the Brigadier went down into the mine he had no idea where to start searching. ‘Perhaps you have a point,’ he agreed. ‘But in all conscience, I can’t stand around and do
nothing
.’
‘There is something you can do,’ said Professor Jones. ‘Go and ask Panorama Chemicals what they’re really up to.’
‘Yes,’ said the Brigadier, warming to that idea, ‘I suppose I could. In fact I think I shall.’ He opened the door, then stopped. ‘What exactly do we want to find out?’
‘Anything,’ said the professor. ‘In particular what are they doing to this mine, and why do people turn green and die.’
‘Right you are,’ said the Brigadier. ‘A bit of general snooping, eh?’
‘Intelligence work,’ said the professor, choosing a military term that he hoped would enthuse the Brigadier.
‘No sooner said than done.’ The Brigadier walked smartly out of the office.
When he had gone Dave looked up at the young professor and smiled. ‘Must be nice spending your life playing toy soldiers,’ he said, speaking in Welsh to show that he now accepted Professor Jones as one of the villagers.
Mark Elgin sat at his beautiful highly-polished desk in his beautiful air-conditioned office at Panorama Chemicals and tried to write a press release. As the plant’s PRO (public relations officer) he sent out regular releases to newspapers and to the television and radio news services.
Usually Elgin enjoyed writing press releases. But today he found it difficult to concentrate. He felt there was a lot that was kept secret from him at Panorama Chemicals. No one had ever explained exactly what research was being undertaken. Then came the first green death, followed by Dr Stevens’s strange refusal to lend cutting equipment, followed now by another incident in which a miner had turned green. He very much wanted to know what was
really
going on, and concluded that his best course was to have a direct confrontation with Dr Bell.
He put down his pen, got up and went into the corridor to go to Dr Bell’s workplace. At that moment Dr Bell was coming along the corridor.
‘I say,’ said Elgin, ‘have you heard? There’s another green man been brought up from the mine.’
Bell seemed little interested. ‘Yes, I heard.’
‘Is that all you can say, Arnold? Do you feel no responsibility at all?’
Dr Bell looked surprised. ‘Why should I?’
‘You said there was no cutting equipment here,’ Elgin persisted. ‘Why did you lie? I’m sure you know something about what’s going on in that mine.’
Dr Bell backed away from him. ‘No. I know nothing.’
‘Has something happened to you? You used to be a jolly, cheerful fellow, always ready for a chat—‘
‘I know nothing,’ cut in Dr Bell, ‘nothing at all.’
‘For heaven’s sake, man, tell me the truth. Others might die if you don’t!’
For a moment Dr Bell’s face contorted as though he was trying to suppress something deep in his mind. Then his face resumed its former impassivity. ‘You are mistaken.’ He walked away jerkily, pushed open a door marked ‘AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY’ and went inside.
Elgin followed the man into the room. It was one of the subsidiary laboratories, full of controls and wall dials. Dr Bell picked up a clipboard and started to read some of the dials. He pulled a lever set in a console, and there was a roaring sound. Watching from the door Elgin saw two of the large dials begin to operate, one showing that a tank somewhere was emptying, and the other showing that a tank was filling. Dr Bell turned to another dial, and caught sight of Elgin at the door.
‘This room is for authorised personnel only,’ he said.
‘I know,’ said Elgin. ‘It’s up on the door. But I’m as authorised as you are.’
‘Not for here.’
‘Why?’ asked Elgin. ‘What’s so special about this room?’
‘Nothing.’ Dr Bell continued quietly with his work. ‘There isn’t anything to see in here. Why don’t you go away?’
Elgin ignored the dismissal. ‘You’re venting one tank and filling another, aren’t you?’
Dr Bell nodded. ‘For cleaning purposes.’
Elgin went further into the room and inspected the dials. ‘I presume that one’—he indicated a large dial—‘refers to the main waste tank on level four.’ He looked at another dial. ‘Where is this one, the one you’re filling?’
‘Close to it.’
‘The next big one?’ Elgin queried. ‘On level three?’ ‘Yes.’
‘But that’s a heavy duty pump working,’ said Elgin, surprised. ‘You shouldn’t need anything more than gravity feed.’
Dr Bell hesitated. ‘I... I made a mistake. It’s a tank on a higher level.’
Elgin thought about this. ‘There isn’t one on a higher level. Or do you mean the new special tank on the west storage bay?’
‘Excuse me,’ said Dr Bell, who now seemed agitated. ‘I can’t answer any more questions. I am very busy.’
‘Hold on a minute,’ said Elgin. ‘We can all be “very busy”. I’m beginning to realise what’s happening. Directly under us is the old West seam of the coal mine. So all you do is pump the waste over to this tank, open the sluice and let it flow into the mine workings.’ He pointed to a transparent port-hole in the wall. ‘What’s that? The pipe itself? Some sort of inspection chamber?’
Dr Bell turned away and busied himself with checking dials against the figures on his clipboard.
‘You knew all along,’ said Elgin. ‘There
is
a connection between the green death and our oil waste, isn’t there?’
Dr Bell was staring at a row of small dials but his eyes were not focussing. His face contorted again. ‘Danger. Death.’ He had difficulty forming the words.
Elgin came close and looked into Dr Bell’s face. ‘What’s up with you? Have you been drinking or taking drugs?’
‘Danger, death,’ Dr Bell repeated, as though he had not heard Elgin.
Elgin took Dr Bell by the shoulders and shook him gently. ‘You seem to be in a trance! Wake up, man! Tell me what this is all about.’
The scientific officer blinked, and sighed deeply. ‘You ask too many questions. Don’t you earn enough money? Isn’t your office big enough?’
‘This is the best job I’ve ever had,’ said Elgin, truthfully, ‘but we aren’t talking about that. A moment ago you said the words “danger” and “death”. What were you talking about?’
‘I said no such words,’ said Dr Bell, and seemed to believe it. ‘Now you must let me get on. I need to complete the transfer.’
‘And then what?’ asked Elgin. ‘More waste straight down into the mine?’
‘The waste has to go somewhere.’
‘But I understand there are two people trapped down there,’ Elgin exclaimed. ‘You might kill them!’
‘In that eventuality,’ said Dr Bell, ‘I suggest that you sit at your desk and write a press release to explain it was an accident. That, remember, is your job here. And don’t forget, it’s a very well paid job you have.’
The Doctor and Jo continued their long hard climb up the old mine shaft.
‘Why was it dug at this angle?’ asked Jo, gasping for breath.
‘I think this tunnel is a geological fault,’ said the Doctor. ‘We think of the earth beneath our feet as being packed tight, but it isn’t really. Apart from mines there are caves, even rivers running underground. I don’t think this was man-made.’
‘Human-made, if you don’t mind,’ corrected Jo.
‘What?’ The Doctor had gone on ahead and now turned back.
‘People say “man-made” as though men are the only people who ever make anything. There are also women, and I’m one of them.’ She paused. ‘A very tired one at the moment.’
‘It flattens out up here,’ the Doctor called. ‘We can take a rest.’
Jo struggled up another few yards, and found the Doctor standing in a cave with a flat floor. She sat down immediately, exhausted. ‘At least there are none of those awful things here!’ She looked round, her helmet light playing over the walls of the cave. She stopped when her light shone on a small ledge. Nestled into the ledge were four large eggs, the size of rugby footballs. ‘What are those?’
The Doctor crossed to the ledge and looked keenly at the four objects on the ledge. ‘Some sort of eggs, I imagine.’
‘Eggs from what?’ said Jo.
‘I don’t know what they’re from,’ said the Doctor, ‘but I can guess what they hatch out into. Our little friends from down below.’
‘How horrible. You mean those things are alive?’
‘That’s an interesting point,’ said the Doctor. ‘Is an egg a living thing, or inert?’
‘It’s not something I want to discuss,’ said Jo. ‘Not if it’s got anything to do with those maggots.’
‘You know, Jo, your attitude is becoming increasingly non-scientific. Just because those things reminded you of creatures you’ve seen crawl out of rotten meat doesn’t mean they are not zoologically very, very interesting.’ He pulled from his capacious pockets a pair of rubber gloves, put them on, and then produced a large plastic bag. Jo had got used to the Doctor’s way of carrying a great variety of equipment in his enormous pockets. ‘Mind holding this bag open for me, please?’
‘What are going to do?’
‘Take one of these eggs and see what happens.’
‘You want to raise a maggot as a pet?’
‘You never know,’ said the Doctor, ‘they may be quite friendly little fellows. Perhaps we’ve only seen the worst side of them. Can you hold this bag open for me?’
Reluctantly Jo got to her feet, took the bag and held it wide open. The Doctor carefully picked up one of the eggs and placed it in the bag, making sure that it did not touch Jo’s fingers. ‘Thank you,’ he said, taking the bag and stuffing in into his pocket. He drew off the rubber gloves and put them away. ‘Shall we continue?’
‘I’ve hardly had time to catch my breath, Doctor.’
‘But if you look over there,’ said the Doctor, angling his helmet light to play on the far end of the cave, ‘I think you’ll feel more encouraged.’
Jo looked. The end of a large metal pipe, sloped at an angle of sixty degrees, came through the roof of the cave. The pipe was wide enough for a human, and there were ladder rungs inside.
‘Where do you think that comes from?’ she asked.
‘My guess is it’s something to do with Panorama Chemicals,’ said the Doctor. ‘I can’t think why the National Coal Board should drill a pipe into a coal mine.’
They walked over to the pipe.
‘I can’t think why
anyone
would put this pipe here,’ said Jo. She sniffed. ‘What’s the smell?’
‘Crude oil waste,’ said the Doctor. ‘So, shall we see where it takes us?’
Jo nodded. There seemed no other way of escape, and anyway she was frightened in case those eggs started to hatch out. The Doctor stood back to let her go first up the rungs inside the pipe. After she had climbed a few feet she looked down to make sure he was following.
‘There’s no light at the top,’ she called.
‘It probably leads into some tank,’ said the Doctor. ‘At least we’ll be on the surface, even if we have to bang on the walls of the tank to bring attention to ourselves.’
As Jo gripped the next rung, she felt a vibration through her hand. It increased, and the whole pipe was gently vibrating. ‘What’s that?’ she called down. ‘Can you feel it?’
‘I’ve no idea what it is, Jo,’ called the Doctor, ‘but I think it probably means we haven’t got much time. I suggest you hurry, if you want to save our lives.’
‘How do you like the coffee?’ Dr Stevens smiled across his vast desk.
‘Very good,’ said the Brigadier, putting his cup back on its saucer. ‘Best I’ve had since I arrived.’
‘A petroleum by-product,’ said Dr Stevens. ‘Panorama’s answer to the grasping demands of South American coffee bean producers. It’s only experimental at the moment.’
‘Really?’ The Brigadier regarded his empty cup and hoped he hadn’t just been accidentally poisoned. ‘Well, Dr Stevens, it’s experiments that I’ve come to talk about. This green death is a bit worrying.’
‘Most alarming,’ agreed Dr Stevens. ‘I still find it difficult to believe—people turning green.’
‘I intend to request a full international investigation.’ the Brigadier went on, ‘under the auspices of the United Nations.’ He watched for Dr Stevens’s reactions.
‘All that over the deaths of two men in a little Welsh village?’ Dr Stevens smiled again. ‘Isn’t it a matter for the local coroner?’
‘That’s what we want to find out.’
‘I see.’ For a moment Dr Stevens said nothing. ‘May I ask why you’ve come here to tell me this, Brigadier?’
‘There were no such deaths before Panorama Chemicals came to the village,’ replied the Brigadier, choosing his words carefully.
‘Are you suggesting some connection?’
‘The two facts seem to me significant,’ said the Brigadier.
If the Brigadier expected Dr Stevens to deny any connection he was disappointed. The Director of Panorama Chemicals showed no reaction at all. ‘Brigadier, I submit you are taking a grave risk in even hinting that we may be responsible for these deaths.’