I switched off my head-torch to save the battery, jerked the ladder and felt it rise past me as somebody lifted it clear. Then I heard scuffling noises as the first of the loaded nets – the SCR – started down. I was tempted to peer up the shaft and watch it coming, but didn’t fancy being under it if a rope should break or anything went wrong with the hoist; so I stood to one side and waited until the heavy bundle sank gently to the floor, then released the shackle.

Before the second net came down there was quite a pause. I imagined the guys struggling to manoeuvre the heavy case into position, on end above the mouth of the shaft, without letting it bump or scrape. Then more scuffling, scratching noises started, and I switched my torch on again in time to see the bulging net appear. Once more I released the shackle and twitched the rope, then walked the case out of the way on its corners and laid it gently on its back. Its weight was formidable, and I knew that the third component, section two, was ten kilos heavier still.

The pause was longer this time. The guys were obviously having more problems. Then came a thump, and some strangled curses. At last the scraping noise began again, and I stood clear in anticipation.

Suddenly a loud, sharp crack ripped down the shaft. A patter of particles landed by my feet, as if there’d been rapid movement above. Jesus, I thought. Somebody’s fired a shot.

I stood frozen. All movement in the shaft had ceased. Some bastard’s stumbled on them, I thought. They’ve dropped him. But they can’t close the cover with the pulley ropes in the way. Why the hell don’t they get on and lower away? Maybe there are more guys in the yard.

In the silence of the tunnel I could hear my heart beating. Not a sound came from above. Irrationally, I felt that if I moved or spoke I might precipitate disaster. All I could do was keep still.

For many long seconds I waited motionless in the dark. My heartbeat seemed to grow louder and louder. Then at last I heard more noises above. They sounded different from the earlier scrapings, but at least something was happening. More bumps and thuds. I shone my torch quickly up the shaft and saw that the whole of its section was filled by the third and last net. Yet, in spite of the noises, the thing wasn’t moving. Had it jammed?

I tried my radio and got no response. My instinct was to yell up the shaft and find out what in hell was going on. But I realised that they couldn’t shout back for fear of being heard, so I steeled myself to wait.

In the end movement resumed and the big case came on down, Toad and Pav close behind it.