Torch by Lin Anderson

Rhona. ‘Come on.’
    At the bottom
of the steps, torchlight revealed the room they had fought in,
followed by a long, unevenly floored passageway with openings on
either side.
    Rhona sniffed.
‘Can you smell methane?’
    MacRae turned
his torch on the roof. ‘We must be near the main sewer. It runs the
length of Princes Street.’
    ‘Would that
give someone access to all the buildings?’
    ‘No but it has
benching either side, so you can walk through it. The Brigade uses
it for training in sewer rescues. Pipes go up the buildings and
vent onto their roofs to avoid a build up of methane down here.
Dangerous stuff.’
    Rhona didn’t
need reminding. Methane’s smell wasn’t its only undesirable
quality. Rhona was struggling to make sense of Jaz’s suspicions.
‘Why would the guy who attacked Mary want access to here?’
    ‘Who said he
did? Maybe he set Mary’s hair alight because she smelt bad. We have
no proof that he has anything to do with the fires at all.’
    ‘But he wanted
her out of the building. Jaz said so.’
    ‘Jaz told us
what Mary told him. Mary’s an alchie. Hallucination is her middle
name. She thinks she’s Mary Queen of Scots for God’s sake!’ MacRae
ended irritably.
    What MacRae
said was true. There was nothing down here but a bad smell.
    Rhona left
MacRae running his torch round the walls of the room while she
headed down the narrow passage, flashing her torch into each
opening. The floor was deeply uneven, sometimes dipping into a hole
that made her stumble, sometimes rising in a jagged edge of stone
that caused her to trip and grab at the wall. Despite the light
from the torch, her progress was slow. The rooms on either side
varied in size. Some were little more than a hole in the wall, some
opened onto larger areas. All were empty.
    ‘Rhona?’
    ‘Down
here.’
    MacRae’s shadow
advanced before him, thick and black. Despite herself, Rhona was
glad he was there.
    ‘How far to the
end?’ he called in exasperation.
    ‘About five
yards. Then it peters out in a brick wall. Probably the foundations
of a building.’
    ‘So there’s
nothing?’ MacRae was as disappointed as she was. The torch swept
round the corner and onto her face.
    ‘Watch it!’
Rhona shouted, knowing it was too late. MacRae’s strides were at
least one-and-a-half hers. She had missed the hole, just off-centre
in the passageway. MacRae didn’t. He cursed as the torch hit the
floor and went out.
    ‘Thanks for the
warning!’
    ‘Are you
okay?’
    ‘Apart from the
broken leg, you mean?’
    ‘It can’t be
that bad.’
    ‘How the hell
would you know?’ He removed his leg from the hole and stuck his
head down instead. ‘I believe,’ he said, ‘I’ve found the source of
the smell.’
    When MacFarlane
appeared minutes later he found them both on their knees.
    ‘This hole’s an
opening onto the main sewer,’ MacRae informed him. ‘Somebody’s
taken off the cover. There it is against the wall.’ He looked up at
MacFarlane. ‘Check with the Scottish Water. See if anyone’s been
down here recently.’
    MacFarlane
nodded. ‘Where are you going?’
    MacRae was
already poised over the hole.
    ‘To take a
look.’
    ‘Hang on Sev.
I’ll contact Scottish Water.’ MacFarlane looked worried. ‘We’d
better get one of them here.’
    MacRae ignored
him and handed Rhona his torch.
    ‘I’ll give you
a shout when I’m down.’
    MacRae dropped
through the hole.
    Rhona held the
torch above the hole hoping he could make it out in the darkness,
then dropped it.
    ‘I’m going to
walk along a bit,’ he shouted up. ‘I won’t be long.’
    MacFarlane
tried his mobile. ‘I’ll have to go up. I can’t get a signal
here.’
    Rhona waited
until he was out of sight then climbed down the manhole after
MacRae.
    Fifteen metal
rungs and her feet were on solid ground. To her right, dark water
flowed through a brick tunnel. They should have waited for
breathing apparatus, but she, like MacRae was too impatient.