Twenty-twoMarilyn sat in the front seat of her Ford, door open, legs outside. The team had been down there for a long time and now they were returning.
“Sorry, ma'am.”
She glanced up. The officer was wearing bright yellow overalls and long black Wellingtons. He was busy pulling off his leather gloves and, once his hands were free, he wiped his nose, making a loud, sniffing noise. “It stinks down there, ma'am. I mean, really foul. Fit to make you throw up.”
“Thank you for that, sergeant.”
“Sorry, ma'am.”
“There is nothing down there? Nothing at all?”
“Not a thing, ma'am. We went along the whole system, both ends, right up to the old gearing. Nobody could get through. The grill that blocks off the other side, that goes from the roof down to the bottom, and the mechanism that used to ra
