CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

‘Hurry!’

I held McCallen tight, pushed her up to the top of the stairs, squeezed past, and, grabbing the handle, shouldered hard against the door. Nothing happened. I glanced up and lunged again, putting all my weight behind it.

‘It’s jammed.’

‘Or locked.’ We both looked at each other. Another glance over McCallen’s head revealed we were in serious trouble. The water wasn’t draining. This meant that, unlike most tanked basements and cellars, there was no pump in operation.

‘Think the room on the other side is flooded?’ she said.

In which case, pressure against the door would make it impossible to open. At the rate it was pouring in, it was possible. I took out my phone with the intention of diverting the fire service, but couldn’t get a signal. Back to plan B.

‘Most dead-bolt locks have a five-pin cylinder. If I had a drill, I could probably shift it.’

‘Have you got a knife?’ McCallen said.

‘A knife against a reinforced metal door is like a peashooter against a charging elephant.’

‘Fuck’s sake, if you’ve got one, give it to me.’

I reached inside my jacket and pulled out a Swiss Army tool and handed it to her. I hoped she was thinking smart while I was thinking hard, a combined effort of brawn and brain our best chance of survival. Meantime, I went to retrieve the bolt cutters.

With no sign of abating, water had already poured over the three lowest steps and was dangerously close to skimming the bottom of the fourth. I jumped down with a splash and plunged through the icy stagnant filth, the smell of raw sewage strong and overpowering. This presented us with another problem: hydrogen sulphide, or sewage gas. I was already feeling queasy. At high exposure, it can kill. I wanted to take action, to do something, anything, to make things right. Instead, I stopped and focused.

Water is like electricity – it takes the path of least resistance. We’d had a lot of rain, which could have a dramatic effect on water tables. Somehow, I didn’t think the jammed door was a natural disaster. But there might be a natural solution to the flood.

‘There has to be a floor drain,’ I said. Beneath it a P-trap, I remembered, thinking of the times I’d unblocked the lavatory at the student house. If I could find it, I might be able to buy us time. I reached into the murk, felt around for the cutters and found them about a metre from where I’d left them. Closing my eyes, I navigated the filth a step at a time, sloshing across the cellar floor, trying to locate the natural slope, digging around for the round plate that covered the drain. Sure I was in the right spot, I plunged the blades into the floor again and again and each time hit solid concrete.

‘It’s been cemented over,’ I yelled to her. ‘How are you doing?’

‘It’s useless. I need you to smash the metal to loosen it.’

Without warning, the little light we had extinguished. The water had blown all power.

Plunged into darkness, thigh-high water lapped around me. Numb and cold, I could feel the energy draining out of my body. Blindly, I waded through and, hitting the staircase with the toe of my boot, climbed back up and past the fourth step, now submerged. We changed places and McCallen retreated a little so that I could get a good swing, hopelessly tricky in the narrow space.

‘Aim for where the lock sits,’ she said, wheezing painfully.

I gave it four shots of my best. Pain shot through my arms. McCallen crept closer to escape the rising scum and the noxious smell. Hefting the cutters, I gave the lock another two strikes.

‘Okay, let’s hope this pays off,’ she said, shuffling in front.

I watched as she inserted a blade between the lock and the wall. She jiggled it right and left and pushed down. Desperation made her stronger than was possible. It might have been my imagination and yet it appeared as if our island of dry land as represented by the staircase had rapidly diminished.

‘Can you grab the handle and pull the door tight against the frame so that the lock tongue doesn’t spring back?’ Calm under pressure, she failed to disguise the urgent note in her voice.

I did as she said. She wiggled it again. The locks shifted. The door stayed shut.