The Collectors - Book Four: Diamonds and Sand (The Collectors Series 4) Read Online Free PDF

cutters, PK.”
                  The padlock fell to the floor as Bear heaved the gate open. “Come on, might as well check this out.”
                  “By the look of it no one’s been along here in years and there’s a distinct pong in the air.”
                  “Go to the top of the class, PK.”
                  Again, the two men inspected the walls.
                  “It’s a dead end,” said Bear as he shifted his beam from side to side. “Next.”
                  In a further tunnel swathes of cables adorned the roof making it awkward to negotiate.
                  On arriving at another junction, they stopped. “Been here before,” said Petros. “Jacob should be thirty metres or so,” he pointed, “in that direction.”
                  Bear checked his watch. “Time for a coffee break.” He ascended the iron ladder,
                  “Find anything?” said Jacob.
                  “No,” said Bear.
                  “My friend decided on a coffee break.”
                  Bear caught Jacob’s eye. “Any chance you could nip across to that café and buy half a dozen filled rolls for lunch.”
                  “Half a dozen?”
                  “Well if you want some, better make it a round dozen,” said Bear.
                  “Here, take this,” said Petros as he handed over a few large denomination notes.
                  “I’ll get some coffee while I’m there,” said Jacob.
     
    ***
     
    Petros finished his coffee and placed his mug on the ground. “Time to lift and shift.”
                  “Those rolls were delicious.”
                  “Thought you’d like the Polish sausage and salad with American mayo,” said Jacob.
                  “Stop looking at me, PK.”
                  “Get your fat arse down the ladder.”
                  Petros followed Bear. At the bottom they turned right. Other much smaller tunnels intersected theirs.
                  “Have you noticed for the last thirty or so metres the gradual slope and the pong in the air?” said Petros.
                  “I have but the explosion meter registers zero.” He glanced at the surrounding brickwork. “Well, well, I don’t believe it. A black swastika.”
                  “Where? I didn’t see it,” said Petros.
                  “Whoever built the tunnel positioned it in the best possible place. On the roof. Who in their right mind glances up when strolling through a tunnel? You always look where you place your feet.”
                  “Minor detail, how the fuck do we get up there?”
                  “Give me one of those club hammers. Stand clear.” With enthusiasm, Bear struck the roof. “This brickwork’s in good nick but that’s the entrance whether we like it or not. We can go back or you can sit on my shoulders and give it a go. Your decision.”
                  “Don’t give me grief when a ton of shit falls on your head. Here, hammer, chisel and crowbar. Don’t drop them. Ready.”
                  Bear lifted Petros as he would a child onto his shoulders.
    “Steady.”
    “For fuck’s sake get on with it, you tart.”
    Petros hammered one brick, striking it from every angle. “Give me the crowbar and close your eyes.”
    The brick broke apart. Debris large and small bounced off Bear’s hard hat and tumbled to the tunnel floor.
    Petros directed the beam of his torch through the hole. “I remember something like this in China. The shaft goes straight up.”
    “Y ou sure?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well while you’re on my shoulders, remove the rest.”
    A few blows of the hammer and the rest dropped to the floor.
    Bear lowered Petros to t he