Chapter Twenty-Two

John took the fire station holdall into the cab and propped it on the rear seat.

“Let’s go,” he said with a grin.

Peter looked at Jane.

“Where do you suggest?” Jane asked.

John squeezed in.

John guided the cab up along Central Park and up past the Guggenheim Museum. They continued onwards until they came to a stop at a large area marked for roadwork. There were several men in hard hats controlling the entrance and the site seemed busy.

“This is the best access to the underground water system,” John explained and Jane paid the cab fare.

It took nearly an hour to obtain clearance and then they descended a steel staircase down a shaft into a tunnel. The tunnel was dimly lit but they could see that the water flowed along the center of a circular tube-like tunnel with a narrow footway alongside.

“Did you bring breathing apparatus, torches and protective clothing?” the site superintendent enquired.

“Relying on you to provide same,” John said.

The superintendent swore under his breath, but he’d checked and his boss had checked and the message had come back that the Mayor had made it clear that this task force was to ‘get every assistance, including his nephew.’

If one of the task force was going to be able to be having tea with the Mayor of New York City, he, the superintendent, was not going to have himself badmouthed.

It took another half an hour before they had the full gear including breathing apparatus.

“You proceed at your own risk,” the Superintendent emphasized. “Just to remind you, several water staff have been badly burned on the skin by contact with the contaminated stretches of water. Don’t whatever you do, don’t go into the water.”

“Relax, I know the tunnels. I do health and safety checks for the Fire Service,” John reassured.

“Have you got the radio, phones won’t get a signal down there,” the Superintendent checked.

“I’ve got it,” Jane reassured.

“Our team is upstream, so if you run into them explain your purpose. They’ll cooperate. I’ll radio them.”

“We’ll go downstream,” John said.

“What’s in the bag?” the Superintendent asked referring to John’s holdall.

“Just some Fire Dept. equipment,” John said. As he spoke he turned on the light on his helmet and his torch and turned to lead Jane and Peter away from the tunnel entrance, intending to head deep into the system.

“Radio in regularly and let us know if you find anything unusual,” the Superintendent insisted.

“Will do,” Jane said with a reassuring smile.

“I’ve got the water sampling gear,” Peter said to the superintendent who was waiting to hear what he was carrying.

As they departed, Peter followed up the rear.

The superintendent watched them go. Then he got on the radio and warned both the downstream and upstream teams that there were strangers from the Fire Service in the tunnels. Then he contacted his boss to complete the information loop.

“As you know the lake in Central Park used to be a water reservoir for the city before it was decommissioned,” John said as they walked along.

“Why go there?” Jane asked. They were travelling single file along the walkway and trying to avoid slippery patches.

“Two reasons,” John said. “First there are still connections that were closed off that might be a source of contamination and second if I wanted an easy but difficult to detect way into the system I’d use a disused tunnel from the decommissioned reservoir.”

“Oh, ok,” Jane said agreeably.

Then she shrieked and Peter did the same and John said, “Holy baloney!”

As they rounded a bend a large group of rats and vermin including snakes and a small crocodile came their way. They cowered against the circular sidewall and let the stream flow past them.

“Contamination, they must be escaping from contaminated water,” Jane said. “It must be moving upstream towards the drinking water.”

“Thank God for the protective boots,” Peter said with a shiver as countless rats ran over his boots.

“Track on,” John said and led the way, ignoring the rats.

When they came to a point where the vermin ceased Jane called a halt.

“Let me check the water,” she said. “If the rats are out it must be the start of a contaminated stretch.”

“It looks red in color,” Peter said.

“Like red mercury,” Jane said.

“This is a result, not a source,” John said. “We must press on. There is a circular area ahead where the old connection to the Central Park Reservoir used to connect to this tunnel.”

John led the way until they came to a large chamber about the size of a cinema. He shone the torch and they could make out a bricked up area on a far wall.

“Looks like the connection here is secure,” John said, his disappointment showing in his voice. That said he had not expected and easy solution although this was his best bet for an intrusion into the system.

“The water here is very murky,” Peter observed.

“This is amazing,” Jane said. “Where we came in to the system the water was clear and here we are a half a mile further downstream and the water is reddish. If it continues to spread at this rate the whole system will be contaminated by tomorrow morning, drinking water included.”

“Should we sample?” Peter suggested.

“Samples won’t solve the problem,” John replied.

“Yes we should sample,” Jane said.

“Logically, the more dense the contamination the nearer the source we are,” she added.

Peter unhooked his backpack and took out a fairly simple water sampling kit.

“Hold my belt,” he said and leaned over the walkway into the churning water below. Jane took hold of Peter’s belt as he leaned in.

“That’s not safe,” John protested.

“It’s ok,” Jane said.

As she spoke her foot slid on a slimy patch and she began to go down on her backside. John grabbed for her and Peter straightened up but took her weight on the small of his back and as she fell over him. Jane kicked Peter who dropped the sampling glass and in the tangle John tripped and fell into the water.

“Jesus!” John exclaimed as he came up for air. He was a good swimmer but well weighed down with his holdall and protective clothing and he struggled as the water churned about him. Peter recovered his composure and reached out an arm to John. Together Jane and Peter hauled John back up out of the water and onto the walkway.

“Shit!” John swore as he sat with his back against the sidewall wringing wet, and they all laughed.

They sat for a moment and then John sat bolt upright with a startled look on his face. “My holdall!” he said.

“Must be underwater,” Jane said.

“You lost it in the struggle,” Peter concluded.

“Your skin should be burning,” Jane said.

“What?” John asked.

“You fell into a heavily contaminated pool. We have to act fast or your skin will peel off,” Jane added, scrambling to her feet. “Get his clothes off,” she added.

“Hold on!” John replied in alarm.

“The rats’ skin burns,” Peter said, shining his torch on John.

“I’m ok,” John said.

“Strange,” Peter said as he checked John out and Jane nodded in agreement. John was very wet but as far as they could make out there was no sign of a burn or even a rash.

“Any more sample jars Peter?” Jane asked.

Peter went to his backpack and retrieved a sample jar.

“I’ve got a few,” he said with a grin. “I was in the army. Always bring backup.”

They made their way to the water edge and Peter and Jane shone their torches. Underwater they could see John’s torch where it lay in its waterproof casing still shining where he had dropped it.

“I have to get my holdall,” John said, standing and dripping wet. He took off his outer protective clothing as he stood, the better as he saw it to maneuver in the water.

“Just a minute,” Peter said. “Look, the water has cleared.”

The murky reddish tinge had indeed disappeared. The water seemed crystal clear.

Ignoring them John dived into the pool and swimming underwater he retrieved his torch and trashed about looking for his holdall. It was near the torch where he had fallen in and he surfaced with a flourish. Jane took the backpack and Peter pulled John out of the water.

“Heavy, what’s in there?” Jane remarked as she hefted the holdall.

“Metal,” John said, reaching with the intention of retrieving the holdall from Jane.

Jane dodged his outreached hand and stepped back.

“Can I look?” she asked.

“Sorry,” John insisted.

“Hey!” Peter interrupted them. “Look!”

As he spoke Peter pointed to the water. The reddish color was returning in force.

Jane dodged under John’s outreached hand and lying on the walkway she put the holdall back into the water, holding it by the straps. It hit with a splash. Then they watched in amazement as emanating in a circle out from the holdall, the water cleared and the color retreated.

“What’s in the bag?” Jane asked as she hauled it back out of the water.

“Color coming back quickly,” Peter said.

“The bag is a personal matter,” John said reaching down but Jane refused to let go.

“Not any more,” Jane said. “Whatever it is, it can drive out the contamination.”

“Is it some sort of detergent?” Peter asked.

John took a deep breath. He had not expected this and did not know how to handle the situation. He wondered should he kill the two of them but decided that would be a bit rash.

“Let me show you,” he said.

John opened the holdall to take out its contents.

“Is it a sword?” Jane asked as she shone her torch on the metal item John exposed as he drew it out of the holdall.

“Looks medieval,” Peter remarked, squinting at the item in the poor light.

“A sword in a scabbard,” John said and drew the sword a small way out of the scabbard to demonstrate. Immediately the exposed part of the sword began to glow giving off a low purplish yellow light. John rammed it back into the scabbard.

“That’s not Fire Service equipment,” Jane said sarcastically.

“A medieval sword,” Peter said in wonder.

“Older than that,” John said grimly.

“Roman?” Jane asked.

“Very much older.”

‘Egyptian?” Peter wagered.

“No, half as old as time. This sword once belonged to a Celtic God,” John said, wondering as he spoke should he be explaining this.

“Yeah,” Jane said, “and my granny was a fairy.”

“You don’t have to believe me,” John said.

“Good,” Peter agreed with a grin at Jane.

“Just dip it in the water again,” Jane asked, adding, “please,” as John looked doubtful.

Holding by the scabbard, John leaned in and put the tip of the sword into the water. Immediately the contamination retreated.

“Interesting, very interesting,” Jane remarked. Peter just stared in wonder.

John sighed. He knew this was trouble.

“The sword is called the ‘Great Fury,’” he said.