Ken McClure - The Anvil

MacLean climbed up to join him and they dropped down silently into the orchard.

The lights of the Hacienda blazed out from the cliff face like a beacon in the night as the two men flitted from tree to tree in a zig zag approach to the house. A roll of thunder overhead obscured any noise they might have made and the first large drops of rain began to patter among the trees. A fork of lightning ripped open the night sky and momentarily lit up the entire cliff face.

Leavey signalled that they make for the west corner of the building and MacLean raised his hand in acknowledgement. There were thirty metres of open ground to cover before they reached the safety of the shadows and they were right in the middle of it when lightning lit up the world around them. Both flung themselves to the ground and lay there for a few agonising moments before darkness cloaked them again. The smell of the wet turf under his face evoked for MacLean memories of the night of the fire.

They reached the comparative safety of the lower wall of the house just as the rain began in earnest. Water cascaded off the cliff face. The rock overhang made sure that it missed the Hacienda but it fell like a curtain in front of it. Leavey and MacLean were soaked to the skin by the time they reached a small, wooden door, which they surmised must lead to the cellars. Without any windows for reconnaissance, it was a moment of high tension for both of them when MacLean pulled it open, gun in hand.

They stepped on to a landing at the head of a flight of metal stairs, which led down to a lit area some ten metres below. MacLean found a catwalk to their right and indicated to Leavey that they should investigate. They crawled out along it until they could see down through ceiling pipework and observe the floor below. They were high in the rafters of what appeared to be the Hacienda’s boiler house. Below, they could see four men in overalls tending the machinery. MacLean counted four electrical generators, an oil-fired boiler and three steam sterilizers. They moved further along the catwalk and found one more man; he was sitting at a control desk with banks of dials and switches at his fingertips.

Leavey tapped the back of MacLean’s leg and signalled that they should go back. There was no room to turn round on the narrow catwalk so they had to crawl backwards on their knees and meet up again on the landing just inside the door.

‘What do you think?’ asked Leavey.

‘Looked pretty ordinary to me,’ said MacLean.

‘Me too,’ said Leavey. ‘Willie must have found something else.’

‘Let’s try the other side of the building,’ suggested MacLean.

They slipped out into the night again and moved in a crouching run to the west corner of the building, staying in the shadow of the wall. The wind was howling along the front of the building and they knew that they would meet the full force of it when they turned the corner. Even so, it took them by surprise and forced them to drop down and crawl along on their stomachs, presenting as little surface area to the wind as possible. They were close to exhaustion by the time they’d crawled along the entire front of the Hacienda and reached the shelter of the car park.

‘This is where Willie started out from,’ said MacLean when he had regained his breath. ‘Let’s try to retrace his footsteps.’

The initial choice was easy; there was only one door at that side of the building and it led to a short corridor, dimly lit by one bulkhead lamp. Two further doors led off the corridor; one had a glass panel at eye level, which revealed a flight of stairs leading up. MacLean indicated silently to Leavey that he would investigate. He pulled out his gun and held it at the ready in his right hand as he opened the door and slipped inside.

After a pause to listen for any sounds of activity from above he climbed slowly and silently to the top. There was a familiar look to the area he found himself in. A sign saying, Theatre 2, finally orientated him. He had come up in the medical flat some twenty metres away from the theatre where he had watched the operation that same morning. He returned to Leavey. ‘Willie wouldn’t have gone up there,’ he said.

Leavey opened the other door cautiously and once more they found themselves heading down into the boiler house, this time from the other end of the building. They stayed at ceiling level and moved out on to the catwalk again. ‘Whatever Willie found, it must have been here,’ said MacLean.

‘Let’s just watch,’ said Leavey.

A telephone rang below and was answered by the man who sat at the control desk. The noise of the machinery drowned out anything he said but it was obvious that he had called out something to the other workmen. Two of them stopped what they were doing and ran over to the desk to receive instructions.

The moment passed and MacLean and Leavey were left to continue a far from comfortable vigil. The metal grating of the catwalk dug into their knees and elbows and they became painfully stiff from remaining in the same position. MacLean felt his neck became agonisingly sore and turned his face to the wall for a few moments respite.

Looking at nothing but dirty brickwork made him even more conscious of the noise of the machinery. Why? he began to think with sudden insight. Why all this noise? Why on earth did they need to run four electrical generators? The Hacienda would be connected to the main supply grid; surely they would only need a generator for emergencies and then only one! This was something that Willie with his electrical knowledge must have realised straight away. He signalled to Leavey that they leave the catwalk to where it would be easier to speak.

When they had backed off the walkway and finished rubbing their knees to restore the circulation, MacLean told Leavey his thoughts.

‘You’re right,’ said Leavey. ‘They must be churning out enough juice to supply a small town!’

‘So where is it?’ asked MacLean.

‘Another basement below this one?’ suggested Leavey.

MacLean looked doubtful. ‘It’s solid rock,’ he said.

Just then they were interrupted by the sound of a lonely wail that seemed to emanate from the rock-face itself.

‘Bloody hell,’ exclaimed Leavey.

‘Maybe that’s what Maria heard,’ said MacLean.

‘What the hell is it?’ said Leavey.

MacLean shrugged his shoulders. ‘It didn’t seem to bother them too much,’ he said, nodding to the workmen below who seemed to be oblivious of the sound.

‘Maybe they’re too close to the machinery,’ said Leavey.

The sound faded. and Leavey and MacLean returned to the problem of the electricity supply. ‘We might be able to trace the route of the cables along the wall,’ suggested Leavey; MacLean agreed it was worth a try. They crawled back out on to the catwalk. It was Leavey who was to make the next discovery. He had failed to make any headway through tracing the line of cables along the wall and had switched his attention to pipework. There was something odd about one of the sterilizers, he decided. It did not appear to have a supply of steam.

He followed the main supply pipe with his eyes again. It ran along the back of the sterilizers about three metres above the ground. There was a branch pipe and reducing valve for two of the machines but none for the one in the middle. The machines were of the front-loading type and sunk into the rock face. It was time to talk again.

MacLean listened to what Leavey had to say and agreed that he was on to something. ‘Maybe we should take a look inside that machine?’ he said. They discussed the best way of achieving this and agreed that they must avoid confrontation at this stage if at all possible. ‘The fire alarm!’ said Leavey, remembering the diversion he had planned for a raid on the Pharmacy.