by Matt Whyman
“Looks like some of them will be back home soon,” observes Yoshi.
“And good luck to those who don’t wish to be locked up again!” Julius arches one bushy white eyebrow for the boy’s benefit, as if to remind him of what he had escaped before finding himself here. “If those monkeys wish to make their home underground, we shouldn’t stand in their way. Our cities might be overcrowded, but beneath the streets there’s plenty of room for everyone!” With that, the old man faces forward to resume his control of the Bridge. Billy glides between the rows. He collects documents and reports as he goes, before drawing up behind Mikhail and reprimanding him in a hushed whisper for the trouble he has caused.
Only Yoshi remains tuned out of the proceedings, clearly lost in thought. One comment from Julius is all it had taken. For like all the kids here, the boy had come from a life on street level. And like every lost soul who sought sanctuary within these blast-proof walls, that past was marked by nothing but trouble.
7
Voodoo Ash
As the Executive Deck Hand, Billy serves as deputy to Julius Grimaldi. It’s a position of great responsibility, but also covers galley duties and housecleaning. Because of these extra tasks, nobody has ever contested for the post. Indeed, when Billy grows too big for his roller boots, the crew consider it to be a small price to pay for the hot meals and clean bed sheets he provides. Right now, however, with the old man in the hot seat, and lunchtime a long way off, the boy looks a little lost for a role. He turns in idle circles, and then can’t resist being first to respond when the intercom speaker crackles and a female voice breaks through. “This is Bravo Team leader, do you copy?”
“What are your coordinates, Bravo?” Billy brings his headset’s microphone bar closer to his mouth. He’s standing behind Julius, who sighs at this intervention, but permits him to continue if only to spare further grief. “If we can get a visual on you, we’ll be able to pick out a suitable punter heading your way. At this hour I’d go for a city suit. They always have spare change.”
“There’s only one thing heading in our direction,” reports the girl over the intercom, “But I don’t think any of us are brave enough to attempt to leave it spellbound.”
“Why not? What trick have you been assigned?”
“Voodoo Ash.”
Billy covers the mouthpiece for a moment. “Who’s in charge of this team?” he asks. “Voodoo Ash is such a basic trick. All you need is a candle, a notepad, a ballpoint pen and a box of matches.”
The operative in the baseball cap refers to an onscreen list. “It’s Livia. She’s with the twins.”
Billy groans. “The newbies? They’re not supposed to perform without a mentor. Who’s due to be coaching them today?”
This time, Mikhail speaks up before the operative can read out his name. “That’ll be me, Billy. I’m supposed to be out there with them. I didn’t forget. I just had more pressing matters on my mind. Like not falling from a great height and breaking my neck.”
Billy glowers at the young Russian, still stung by the theft of his chair.
“We need some help here,” the voice on the intercom pleads.
Without taking his eyes from Mikhail, Billy No-Beard clicks his fingers at the kid with the Mohawk. “Tell the newbie how it’s done,” he suggests. “Clearly, we can’t trust Mikhail to help her out.”
The boy in question looks a little startled. He turns to Julius, much to Billy’s impatience, who tells him to go ahead.
“OK, well, firstly ask the punter to write his name on a notepad,” he begins hesitantly. “Then, without looking, tear off the sheet, set light to it with a match, and collect the remains in the cup of your hand.”
“Good boy,” says Billy, proudly. “What next?”
“The key is in reading the imprint of the name on the next sheet of the notepad. That’s why the trick only works using a ballpoint pen. Anyway, as you talk up what you’re about to do, be sure to distract the punter’s attention. Involve another crew member in the conversation if necessary, or get them to crush the charred remains of the paper into ash. Anything so they take their eyes away from you for a moment. You only need a second or so to wax their name on your forearm. Then, get rid of the candle pronto, invite the punter to watch closely and rub the ash across your arm—”
“—finally, witness the astonishment on their face when their name materialises!” Billy pinches the microphone bar, having stepped in to finish explaining the trick. “Did you copy all that, Team Leader? Just be friendly in your approach. The punter’s sure to stop for a warm smile.”
“Thanks for the lesson, Billy, but it’ll take more than a smile to stop this one.”
“Where are you, Bravo?”
“On the steps at the Theatre Royal, but I don’t think we’ll stay here much longer.”
Like a conductor, Billy points at the kid with the Mohawk, who is already on the case. A second later, an image feeds through from a street camera opposite London’s most famous showhouse. Sure enough, the team of three girls dispatched to make money from street magic don’t look very prepared. The way they retreat behind the theatre’s giant gilded pillars makes it quite clear that Livia and her two accomplices have no immediate plans to perform.
Billy No-Beard strokes his wispy moustache, with one elbow propped on his forearm. “Why is Livia wearing her hoodie over her head?” he asks, appealing to the old man to intervene.
“Why do you think?” mutters Yoshi under his breath. He’s about to speak up, in fact, only to wince and touch his temple, as if struck by a sudden headache.
“It’s no surprise they’re having problems, dressed like that,” Billy continues. “She looks like a mugger, not a magician! Julius, we’re going to have to recall them immediately.”
The old man appears not to hear him at first, concerned as he is by Yoshi’s sudden turn. “Is everything OK?” he asks.
Yoshi recovers his composure, but for the strange focus to his eyes. He doesn’t blink, and just stares at some imaginary point between them. “Livia and the twins are in big trouble, Julius. It’s really serious!”
Without taking his eyes from Yoshi, Julius snaps his fingers at the Executive Deck Hand.
“Billy, I need your headset right away.”
“But I’m the voice of reassurance!” he protests weakly.
“And I’m relieving you of your duty,” the old man instructs him. “If Yoshi senses those girls are in danger, and we know there are wild animals on the loose, then I need to get them out of there fast. They’re my responsibility, after all!”
“It’s probably just a mouse,” scoffs Billy. “You know what girls can be like.” He swings around to face the screen. There, he sees what’s just gripped every member of the crew in the room. “Good grief!”
8
Is this going to be messy?
The lion may look out of place, roaming a city street, but he doesn’t appear to be lost or bewildered. The way he prowls into frame, all four haunches working like pistons on a performance engine, this might as well be his natural habitat. And right now, as he slows in front of the steps, switching his tail back and forth, it seems he’s just tuned into the presence of some easy prey.
“What can we do?” asks Yoshi, panicked. “I can’t coach them to jump run from here. It only worked for Mikhail because he could follow me.”
“And let’s be realistic,” Mikhail adds, “no magic trick is going to help them out of this.”
“A smoke bomb might serve to distract it,” suggests Billy. “Unfortunately we don’t issue newbies with that kind of prop until they know how to use them as part of their act.”
With his elbows on the table, Julius presses his fingers into a steeple and says, “There is a way.” Next, he clears his throat, and tucks the microphone closer to his lips. As he does so, the big cat climbs the first step, hunched low as if preparing to pounce. “Livia, do you copy?”
“Get us out of here, Julius! If we run it’ll drag us down. Th
e theatre doors are shut, and there’s no way we’ll make it to the end of the street!”
“There’s a manhole cover in the road just in front of the theatre. Can you see it?”
“I do.”
“That’s an access point to the drains. Do whatever it takes to reach it. Once you’re in, I’ll come out to meet you.”
“Is this going to be messy?”
“Only if you let that lion follow you down.”
Billy listens to the course of this conversation in disbelief. “How are they going to get to it? Old Clarence there isn’t going to just step aside.”
Yoshi grins. He’s focused back on the screen now, looking suddenly upbeat. “Watch and learn, my friend.”
On the screen, Livia emerges hesitantly from behind the pillar. This close to such a ferocious predator, she looks tiny all of a sudden. It’s hard to see her face inside her hoodie, but it’s plain she’s as terrified as the twins behind her. On one side is Blaize, with blue beads strung through her long hair, and Scarlett on the other with a red twist on the very same style. Without words, and moving very slowly indeed, the twins begin to roll their palms as if they’re each cradling an invisible ball. The lion moves to skirt around them, as if seeking their weakest point, only to retreat by a step when molten balls appear to gather strength in their hands.
“How is that trick done?” asks Mikhail, in awe of the spectacle. “I’ve seen them do it several times now, and still can’t work it out.”
“It isn’t a trick,” says Yoshi, but the young Russian is all eyes and no ears.
Julius watches the developments intently. “Don’t do anything to harm the lion,” he cautions the girls. “Just use your skills to create some space for Livia.”
On this final word, Blaize tosses her flaming sphere at the feet of the big cat. He doesn’t wait to see it explode on impact with the ground, but scampers to the higher ground on the top step of the theatre entrance. As if to make sure he stays there, Scarlett lobs her own fireball in his wake. The lion roars at them angrily, shakes its great mane and then slinks once more from the fleeting flames.
“Go now!” orders Julius. “Just don’t look back!”
Livia breaks for the road, skidding to her knees in front of the drain cover. She grabs the recessed bar with both hands and tries to stand in a bid to lift it free.
And yet, despite her efforts, the cover remains sealed shut.
“I need help!” she cries, her appeal crackling from the speakers on the Bridge.
By now, the lion has loped along the top step, away from the twins. He hops from the wall to the street, absorbing the impact fluidly, and then bears round towards the girl alone in the road.
“It’s going for Livia!” cries the kid with the Mohawk. “It’s hoping to dodge the twins to get to her.”
“Scarlett! Blaize! I can’t lift it without you!”
The twins sprint to her side, just as the lion begins to pick up the pace towards them. With the camera looking down upon this drama, the crew back in the bunker watch in stunned silence as this trio works as one. When the lid pops open without warning, they gasp along with the girls. It’s enough to cause Livia to fall backwards. As she does so, sprawling onto her back, her hood falls away from her head to reveal a halo of shining light. It’s nothing that the crew haven’t seen before, though it clearly comes as a surprise to the lion. Whatever danger it signals to this tawny beast, Livia and the twins seize the moment to throw themselves into the hole in the road. Enraged now, the lion tries to follow, but its massive haunches won’t squeeze through the gap. It tries a second time, scooping into the hole with one paw. Then, with a final snarl and a scowl, it pads away to rest and lick its paws.
“Shall we notify the authorities?” asks the kid with the Mohawk. “I can put in an anonymous call so we aren’t traced.”
“Even if the cops are busy with rogue rhinos,” Mikhail points out, “I don’t think a lion loose in London will go unchecked for long. Seeing that this feed we’ve patched into goes directly to New Scotland Yard police headquarters, I imagine squad cars will be racing to the scene as we speak.”
“It’s lucky the girls got away when they did,” observes Mikhail. “If the cops started asking questions about their backgrounds, our time in this bunker could be over.”
Julius rises to his feet, just as a blue light blinks across the big cat on the monitor. Its ears prick up, drawn now to a point just beyond the camera’s field of vision. At the same time, one of the operatives monitoring the emergency services channel patches a transmission into the main speakers. The startled chatter confirms that several officers are in attendance, which persuades the old man to bring his hands together and announce that it’s high time he rescued the girls.
“The show is over, everyone. We should be thankful that London is safe and sound for another day.” As he says this, he shoots a glance at Yoshi, whose expression tightens visibly. Nobody else appears to notice this exchange, busy as they are with winding up operations, and yet there’s clearly some conflict between the pair. Moving towards the boy now, on his way out of the Bridge, Julius stops at his shoulder, and says under his breath, “If you care for the future of this bunker, and indeed the city itself, you’ll meet me in the Map Room an hour from now.”
“Why?” He looks up at the old man, and finds some anger pinching the corners of his eyes.
“Because you have a rare and special gift, Yoshi, as demonstrated just now when you picked up on the threat facing the girls. It’s just a pity you can’t see the threat facing London. Otherwise, you’d help me to do something to stop it!”
9
A moment of clarity
When cities grow, they spread outwards first, and then upwards. This happens when the population becomes so packed that people seek to get away from life at street level. To meet this demand, architects compete with one another to build bigger, higher, flashier skyscrapers, with penthouse suites at the very top. Up there, the air is cleaner, the views spectacular, and the peace unrivalled. Raising your gaze from your cramped and crime-ridden neighbourhood, you’d be forgiven for thinking that those privileged few are one step closer to Heaven.
So what does this say about the kind of lost souls who seek the same kind of peace and solitude below ground? City planners are so busy looking upwards that they forget that the same degree of security, peace and quiet can be found beneath the streets. It may not be so close to the stars in the sky, but many consider themselves to be quite at home down there.
Take this underground bunker, buried at the dead end of an alley in London’s Chinatown. There may be nothing but a buckled air vent to signify its presence to the outside world, but it’s three storeys deep and with a different function on every level. The day-to-day activity takes place on the upper floor, from directing street magic missions to eating meals in the canteen prepared by Billy in the galley. Head for the central stairwell, and on the mid-deck below you’ll find the shower blocks and sleeping quarters. Here, bunks are strung up like cobwebs. It smells of old socks, as you might expect with no windows for fresh air, and personal belongings spill from every locker. Despite the mess, it’s safe, cosy and warm, which is what matters most to the inhabitants.
The lower level is rarely visited. This is where the engine room is housed. Designed for use by the military, in the event of a nuclear war, this bunker didn’t just have to be blast-proof. It was required to house and protect the generals and their staff should the outside world be reduced to an uninhabitable wasteland. As a result, the fuel rods powering the generator are designed to last a lifetime.
Were a crew member to venture this far down, as Yoshi does right now, he’d find a dimly-lit gantry that splits in two and circles a central core. Through the viewing glass, it’s possible to glimpse a brooding spine of riveted steel, flasks and pumps, pressure gauges and blinking lights. Yoshi takes one look and follows the gantry path clockwise. He’s mindful not to linger on the fact that this core can be seen th
rough the deck plate beneath his feet, and appears to rise up from the bowels of the earth. The noise it makes can’t be ignored, however. The low, unbroken hum is amplified by the surrounding chasm, and joined at times by resonant clanks and plumes of high-pressure steam. It leaves him anxious to reach the hatch on the far side of this formidable structure, and spin the flywheel open.
“Hello? Is anybody here?”
Yoshi calls out from the top of a fire escape, with the bunker’s outer belly behind him. He’s looking out across a sizeable excavation in the clay, but can’t see what caused the scrabbling sound when he pushed through the hatch. The area out here once served as a service area for the bunker’s engineers. Since the military abandoned ship, it has become a place of study and contemplation for Julius Grimaldi. Indeed, when Yoshi first took refuge in the bunker, towering bookcases lined the space. This library, amassed by the old man over the years, was entirely dedicated to subterranean London. It was here at the central oak table, by the flickering light of a candelabra, that Julius spent his time pouring over leatherbound tomes, engineering plans and architect’s drawings, before setting out to chart the furthest reaches for himself. The boy looks around, seeing nobody. Even so, he’s certain that someone is down here.
“It’s me,” he announces, “Yoshi! There’s no need to be alarmed.”
Every time Julius embarked on his subterranean adventures, he’d head out through the tunnel at the far end of the chamber. This is the focus of Yoshi’s attention now. He’s quite certain that something is hiding from him in the gloom over there. The tunnel is shored up like a mineshaft, and illuminated at the entrance by wall-mounted candles. It was on following the old man through this gateway to the underground world, Yoshi recalls, that he first learned about the Faerie Ring. For the tunnel is adorned with yet more plans, reproductions and cutaways of the city, including a streetmap of London with a star shape scrawled across it in thick marker pen. This was when Julius had revealed his true calling. He wasn’t simply mapping the physical space under London, the boy learned, but also the city’s psychic currents. It was enough to make Yoshi’s head spin at the time, just as the sight that greets him now weighs heavy in his heart.