The Third Pig Detective Agency: The Complete Casebook. Bob Burke

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СКАЧАТЬ I levered the manhole cover off, I lost my grip on it but, thanks to my quick reflexes and uncanny sense of self-preservation, I didn’t lose any body parts as it fell heavily (and with a very loud clang) to the ground. Fortunately, as Edna’s stronghold was in an area where the occasional loud noise wasn’t an undue cause for concern, it didn’t appear to have attracted any attention.

      I shone my torch down the manhole and looked in carefully. At first glance, the sewers didn’t look (or smell) too unpleasant. In actual fact they smelled better than me. This, I suspected, was largely because of the recent heavy rains, which had run off via storm drains and into the sewage system, effectively washing most of the unpleasant stuff away.

      Now that was something to be thankful for.

      Grabbing the top rung of a metal ladder that led from the street down into the sewers, I slowly and carefully made my descent. Arriving safely at the bottom I took my bearings with the help of the plans.

      I was in a large tunnel that stretched off into the darkness in both directions. Smaller tunnels opened out from the walls as far as I could see but none, I was glad to note, seemed to be active. The only evidence of any discharge other than rainwater from these tunnels was a trail of green scum that dripped downwards towards the floor of the main sewer. Although I was ankle deep in liquid, it appeared to be mostly water. Then again, I had no intention of examining it too closely. What I didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt me.

      I had a quick look at the plans, figured I had to go right and slowly made my way up the tunnel trying to keep the sloshing to a minimum – just in case. Although I wasn’t entirely sure which of the smaller outlets led into Edna’s HQ, it didn’t take me long to figure it out. Not surprisingly, it was the one with the large securely-padlocked grille that covered the entire tunnel entrance. After a few pulls it was evident that this grille wasn’t going to come away from the wall that easily.

      ‘OK Harry,’ I said to myself as I reached for the lock pick. ‘Let’s see how good the Masterblaster is.’

      In fairness, I haven’t had much cause to pick locks in the past. Any time I’ve had to ‘enter’ a residence without legally coming in via the front door, I’ve found that the old credit card trick so beloved of TV detectives actually worked. It was, therefore, no surprise that jiggling little iron pins in a keyhole wasn’t quite as simple as it first appeared. No matter how I tweaked, twisted and pulled at the lock, it stubbornly refused to open. Even reverting to Plan B – swearing at the grille – didn’t appear to have any effect either.

      In total frustration I hit out at the lock with my torch. To my surprise the lock broke and fell to the ground in pieces. Years of rust and an application of brute strength had succeeded where subtlety and bad language had failed.

      Of course, it wouldn’t be a Harry Pigg case without something bad happening as well. In this instance, the breaking of the lock had also resulted in the unfortunate breaking of the torch. I now had to navigate my way through a sewage outlet and into Edna’s lair in total darkness, using only my sense of touch (and possibly smell).

      I felt for the grille and dragged it away from the entrance. Aware that I was now possibly within earshot of one of Edna’s more alert henchbeasts, I struggled to keep it from falling to the ground – which I managed to do at the expense of a large tear in my wetsuit and a pulled muscle in my shoulder. As if my job wasn’t difficult enough already!

      At least I was able to use the bars of the grille as a mini-ladder to lift myself into the smaller outlet. My shoulder objected strongly to being forced to help in dragging me up and into the tunnel but I managed to pull myself up without doing any additional damage.

      This new tunnel was a tight squeeze and I was forced to crawl along, rubbing against the walls and roof as I did so. It was much narrower, much smellier and showed very distinct signs of much more frequent usage. Unpleasant substances stuck to my back and legs and I had no great urge to investigate what they actually were. In an effort to take my mind off my current situation, I pictured myself in a hot shower liberally applying sweet-smelling soap to my body. This seemed to work and I was wallowing in the imaginary sensation until my reverie was broken by a gurgling noise from somewhere up ahead.

      ‘Oh no,’ I said anxiously. ‘Please don’t let it be someone flushing. Anything but that.’

      The gurgling grew noisier and it was joined by a loud flowing sound as something large and liquid made its way down towards me.

      Frantically, I tried to reverse back down but in my panic I only succeeded in wedging myself tightly into the tunnel. Firmly stuck and unable to move, I could only close my eyes and mouth as a noxious brown liquid washed over (and under and around) me, covering me liberally in a foul-smelling residue.

      Coughing and spluttering (and now smelling even worse than before), I tried to wipe my face clean but only succeeded in spreading the vile substance around even more. As there was no point in going back now, I slowly twisted and turned until I had forced myself free and gradually made my way up the tunnel again. Some things just shouldn’t happen to a hard-working detective and getting liberally covered in raw sewage was most certainly one of them.

      As I crawled slowly forward I saw a thin crack of light shining faintly through the roof ahead. Eager for any way of getting out of the tunnel, I struggled on. To my intense relief, the light came from where the side of a square metal drain cover wasn’t flush (no pun intended) to the edge of a manhole. Hoping that I could push the cover off, I wedged my back underneath it and pushed upwards with all that was left of my strength. Slowly but surely it lifted away and slid off my back gently onto the floor above.

      Muscles howling in pain, I hauled myself up and carefully peered over the edge. I was looking at a dimly lit corridor. From the dust on the floor, it wasn’t one that was used too often so, thankful for one lucky break, I heaved myself out of the sewer and lay on the ground panting heavily, stretching my knotted muscles and trying to get my breath back. Now all I had to do was find the room where the lamp was kept, if the plans were to be believed, and steal it back.

      I took the building plans from inside my wetsuit where I had stored them for safekeeping. Although stained with sweat and effluent they had escaped the worst of the deluge so I was able to work out where I was without too much difficulty.

      If I was reading the plans correctly, I appeared to be in a basement. I just needed to make my way to the stairs at the end of the passageway, go up four levels, find the room halfway down a long corridor and take the lamp. Of course, I had no idea exactly how well protected the room was but at least I now knew how to get there. Limping slightly, smelling heavily of unmentionable substances and groaning as quietly as I could, I struggled towards the stairs.

      If walking caused some discomfort then climbing the stairs was an exercise in agony. Every step upwards jarred another aching limb or my torn muscle. I felt as though I’d been skinned and roasted over a roaring fire. Everything burned or stung in some respect after my tunnel experience and, with my luck, there was no obvious hope of easing this agony in the near future.

      When I eventually dragged myself to the top of the stairs, all I wanted to do was lie down and be mothered. As there wasn’t a mother to be seen in the vicinity and as lying down would probably result in me not getting back up again for probably quite a few months, I willed myself to go on and through the door.

      Fortunately, the door wasn’t locked, as I probably wouldn’t have been able to bend down to try my luck at another lock-picking attempt. Opening the door slightly as quietly as I could, I peered down the corridor. It looked more used than the one I’d just left but there didn’t appear to be anyone on guard that I could see. Pushing the door open just enough to squeeze through I squelched СКАЧАТЬ