Going Underground

by Denison, L. N

  Jen hadn’t stopped scowling at Jane since her arrival at Ryker’s. There was something that she could not put her finger on about the new arrival. Maybe it was just the way Jane had tried to ingratiate herself with the others, but Jen had harboured an instant dislike towards her. She sensed something sinister behind the woman’s pleasant façade. Gerick’s daughter was not a problem, as she was just a child. She could cause little harm, apart from acting out through boredom, which she would indeed experience during the long calm before the impending storm.

  Jen’s obvious suspicion of Jane had drawn Myron’s attention, but everyone else remained oblivious about her feelings (including the usually astute Jonah). Jen sat in her usual seat at the bar, continually staring in Jane’s direction. Myron moved towards her, purposely walking in her line of vision. As usual, this angered Jen to the point of spontaneously combusting.

  ‘We need to talk!’ Myron grasped Jen’s arm at the elbow tightly, causing no small amount of discomfort. In her usual defiant way, she tried to escape his grasp, but the more she pulled, the tighter the grip became.

  ‘Back room! now!’ Myron hissed.

  With Myron’s vice-like grip inhibiting her every move, Jen had no choice but to follow him to the back room. When she got there, she knew that she would be in for the biggest showdown that she had ever had with Myron.

  Myron opened the back room door and pulled Jen in, slamming it behind him.

  ‘Sit your arse down, Jen!’ Myron thundered.

  ‘What is your problem?’ Jen replied with just as much ferocity.

  ‘I could ask you the same thing, Jen!’ came Myron’s heated response. ‘What is your problem with Jane Meyer? All you have done since she arrived is make her feel like an outcast. You’ve been far from welcoming. Explain yourself!’

  Jen clasped her head in her hands, remaining silent and deep in thought as to how Myron would react to what she had to say.

  ‘Well, Jen, I’m waiting for your reasonable explanation!’ Myron sneered.

  Still, Jen remained silent, which enraged Myron further.

  ‘Well?’ he yelled for everyone in the bar to hear.

  ‘I don’t trust her, Myron … there is something about her that I don’t like, but I can’t put my finger on it. There! Are you satisfied now?’ Jen responded defiantly.

  ‘Not completely, no!’ he replied in a nonchalant manner.

  ‘Well, that’s your prerogative Myron! You don’t have to take my word for it, so we’ll just have to leave it at that, shan’t we? Well, master, can I go now?’ She rose to leave.

  ‘Stay away from her, Jen. I understand where you’re coming from, I really do, but we have too much at stake without having to worry about your insecurities!’

  As Jen headed back into the bar, she gave Myron a one-finger salute.

  *

  The day was drawing to a close, and nearly everybody within the bar’s walls was either asleep, or getting close to nodding off. Jen, on the other hand, could not sleep. Her one good eye had been firmly fixated on Jane Meyer since leaving the back room. Her mistrust was veering out of control, but Jane remained oblivious.

  It was only when Jane began to scope the room to see who was still awake that she saw Jen—that she realised that something was amiss. For a moment, she just stared blankly at Jen, trying to fathom her out. She had to know why Jen insisted on the unsettling Cyclops treatment. Slowly, Jane rose to approach the table where Jen was sitting.

  ‘Don’t come any closer!’ Jen snapped. ‘What do you want?’ Jen’s actions, past and present, had made it very clear that she didn’t want Jane anywhere near her. She remained confused as to why. She can’t know about my little secret, Jane mused, unless, of course, she has a sixth sense.

  Jane continued to approach Jen, who continued to look daggers at her.

  ‘You appear to hate me for some reason; your face says it all!’ a flummoxed Jane said. She stood before Jen, her arms folded across her chest. ‘I can’t see that I have done anything wrong. I wish you would enlighten me!’

  Jen looked away from Jane, giving her the cold shoulder treatment. Jane held her ground.

  ‘I’ll get the beers, shall I?’ Jane commented. ‘I have had nowhere near enough to drink!’

  Jen clasped her head in her hands by way of a reply as Jane made her way over to the bar.

  ‘Two beers please, barman, and make it snappy!’ she joked. Jonah was not amused, as he quickly poured two beers and slammed them on the bar. He, too, saw something about Jane he didn’t like, but chose not to show it in the same way as Jen had. He just turned his back on Jane and went about his business.

  Jane turned to look at Jen, who still had her head clasped in her hands, and then turned back to the drinks. She dug around in her pocket for the sleeping tablets she had brought with her for her own supposed use, although she thought they would benefit Jen a little more. She slyly broke four of the caps into Jen’s beer and made her way back over to Jen’s table, placing the drugged beverage in front of her. Jen could never refuse a drink, no matter whom it came from. She said nothing as she lifted the glass to her lips, taking down a good half of the liquid in one mouthful, unaware it had been spiked. Jane sat down at the table and watched patiently as the drugs took effect. Jen became very drowsy, very quickly.

  ‘What have you done to —’ Jen fell into a state of unconsciousness mid-sentence, hitting her head hard on the table. Jane maniacally ran her fingers through Jen’s hair and whispered in her ear, knowing full well that she wouldn’t be able to respond.

  ‘You were right not to trust me, my love, but no hard feelings! I have to go now, but I will be back before you can start throwing accusations!’

  *

  Myron had just about finished laying out the final plan of attack, trying to get every little detail correct in his mind as the day of reckoning loomed. His scheme was virtually foolproof, if he did say so himself. He mentally patted himself on the back.

  Myron adjourned to the bar in search of Jen, but no sooner had he shut the door of the back room behind him than he noticed Jen slumped over the table. Jane Meyer was nowhere to be seen. A disturbing silence lingered over the sea of drunken, motionless bodies, like a pall. Myron trotted over to Jen’s table and shook her shoulders vigorously to revive her.

  ‘Jen! Come on, wake up!’ Myron pleaded.

  Jen moaned in her stupor but still wouldn’t snap out of it. Against his better judgement, Myron resorted to slapping her cheeks smartly, hoping she wouldn’t realise what was going on. That did the trick. Jen’s good eye fluttered open, and she focused blearily on the gauzy shape standing before her.

  ‘Where’s Jane Meyer, Jen?’ Myron shouted, his voice cracking.

  ‘What the hell, Myron! No “what happened?” Or “are you OK?”’ Jen seethed. ‘She’s probably crawled back to where you found her, the double-crossing bitch! I think she drugged my beer!’

  Myron peered inside Jen’s glass; there was a white residue in the bottom, all right.

  ‘Think, Jen!’ he implored. ‘Did she say anything to you?’

  Jen couldn’t recall anything significant from her brief conversation with Jane, who did most of the talking.

  ‘No! Not that I can remember,’ Jen replied. ‘What are you going to do about it?’

  Myron wasted little time in going after Jane. She had to be stopped from carrying out her intentions. He had an inkling that she might be heading back towards the Parliament buildings, he did not know what purpose she hoped to achieve. He entered the alleyway behind Ryker’s and he ran as fast as his legs would carry him, in hopes that he would catch up with her. He was vigilant along the way, ducking in and out of crevices to avoid the patrols who were out in force for curfew as usual.

  It didn’t take long for Myron to catch up with Jane. She had just entered the underground station at Charing Cross after a long wait. Patrolmen had been holding up her journey by standing directly outside the entrance to the station. Myron stood fast in the
alleyway adjacent, looking in both directions before darting across to catch her in her tracks.

  Jane had remained oblivious to anyone following her until Myron grabbed her collar from behind and yanked her around to face him.

  ‘Oh, no, you don’t!’ Myron snarled. ‘You’re not going any further!’ He took hold of her arm and began to pull her back towards Ryker’s.

  ‘Let go of me!’ Jane snapped. ‘What gives you the right to manhandle me?’

  Myron made no reply, only tightened his grip and pulled her harder. No amount of struggling would help her cause.

  *

  Ryker’s was within reach, and Jane had struggled for freedom with every step from Charing Cross station up to the bar’s back door. Myron wouldn’t relinquish his grip on her for one second. He flung the door open, nearly knocking it off its hinges in a fit of rage.

  ‘Get in there!’ Myron ordered, pushing Jane to the floor. ‘Lonny, get her out of my sight!’

  Jen watched, and smirked with satisfaction at Jane’s misfortune, as Lonny took her to the back room and locked her inside. Jen entertained thoughts of sweet revenge against the traitor, and longed to tell Myron ‘I told you so!’ for doubting her in the first place.

  Myron made his way over to Jen and sat for a moment, contemplating his next move and how much damage Jane could’ve done to The Independent Mind’s New Year’s Eve plot.

  ‘Why don’t you just kill the bitch, Myron?’ Jen begged. ‘She’s a traitor and should be treated as one!’ She lifted a fresh glass of beer to her lips and gulped three fourths of the frothy liquid. Myron took the glass from her hand and placed it back on the table.

  ‘Are you suggesting that I execute her?’ Myron asked. ‘We need to find out what her intentions are first. We don’t know that she was going to do anything to jeopardise the mission, do we?’

  ‘She will be our downfall Myron, I’m telling you!’ Jen huffed. ‘Sort her out!’

  Jen got up and left the table, leaving Myron to ponder Jane Meyer’s fate.

  *

  With the back room now being used to imprison Jane Meyer, the groundwork for New Year’s Eve would be carried out in the basement at Ryker’s. It was where Jonah fermented his special brews from then on. Gerick called Myron over upon his return to discuss his plan of action for pinching John Howard’s weaponry.

  ‘He hides it in the rafters in what used to be the House of Lords, an old annex of the Parliament buildings,’ Gerick explained. ‘We can get what we need via a crawlspace that we can enter through my office. That’s the easiest and safest bet.’

  ‘Lawrence informed me of where the weapons were stashed about a week back, so that much I knew already,’ Myron mused. ‘And thanks to you, we now know how to get to them!’

  Myron took his leave of Gerick, the need to share the new information eating away at him.

  ‘Everybody in the basement—on the double!’ Myron shouted, in an effort to get everyone motivated.

  The sleepy members of The Independent Mind made their way slowly down into the basement. Myron was pacing with excitement, wanting to get the proceedings started.

  Myron had a good look at the faces, waiting expectantly to hear what he had to say.

  ‘Where’s Jen?’ he asked. ‘Someone go find her—I said everybody needs to be here, and that includes her!’

  Lonny went back up to the bar, and realised where Jen was straight away. The door to the back room had been left ajar, and angry voices could be heard coming from within. Lonny ran across the bar to see what was going on. Lonny found Jane restrained upon entering the back room, her wrists duct-taped to the arms of the chair that she had been forced to sit in. Her face was beaten and bloodied with Jen standing over her, ready to deal another blow.

  ‘Jen! Step away from her!’ he roared. ‘Don’t make me come over there!’

  Jen took no notice of Lonny, and struck Jane again and again until he forced her to stop by launching himself at her and dragging her down to the floor. Landing her on her stomach and straddling her back, Lonny reached over to the roll of duct tape that had been dropped inches from Jane’s feet.

  ‘Stop squirming!’ he snarled. ‘I’m going to do this for your own good, and the prisoner’s! I think you’ve done her enough damage, don’t you?’

  Lonny unravelled some of the tape and grabbed Jen’s hands, but it wasn’t an easy task. Jen fought with all her might to prevent him from getting them where he wanted.

  ‘Don’t make me hurt you, Jen!’

  ‘Get the hell off of me, you bloody Jock!’ she bellowed.

  Lonny bent her wrists and caused her to cry out, but now he had her hands where he wanted them—behind her back. The tape was wrapped round quickly and tightly about four times to prevent her from escaping. Jen began to tremble with anger under Lonny’s eighteen stone frame.

  Jen’s scream hadn’t gone unnoticed. Everybody in the basement heard it, causing Myron to go and see what the commotion was for himself. On entering the back room, Myron was hit by the disturbing scene.

  ‘Why is Jane Meyer bound to a chair, and in that bloody state?’ Myron demanded an explanation. ‘And more to the point, why are you sitting on Jen and why are her hands bound?’ Myron folded his arms and waited for Lonny’s reply. ‘WELL!’ he howled.

  ‘Myron, I’m sorry, but I had to restrain Jen! She was out of control!’

  ‘That still doesn’t answer my first question, does it?’

  ‘I found Meyer like this, with Jen standing over her beating her bloody!’ Lonny explained. ‘That is all I can tell you!’

  ‘Let Jen up, and go and untie Jane, will you!’ Myron ordered.

  Lonny lifted his sizable bulk up, and helped Jen to her feet.

  ‘Get your arse over here!’ Myron bawled. Jen slowly walked over to Myron, her head hung in frustration.

  Myron grabbed Jen by the arms and gave her a stern look.

  ‘What?’ Jen snapped. ‘She had it coming! Are you going to untie me, or what?’

  ‘Not until you are fully calm, no!’

  ‘Oh, come on, Myron, the bloody tape is cutting off my circulation … please untie me!’ she pleaded.

  ‘If you step out of line in any way, the tape goes back on—is that understood?’ Myron said forcefully.

  He spun her round and unravelled the tape, releasing Jen from its tight hold. Jen rubbed her wrists and bruised knuckles, and walked out of the back room to wait for Myron and Lonny at the bar. Both exited the back room, and Myron locked the door behind them.

  ‘Come on, let’s go!’ he said. ‘We have work to do!’

  *

  The basement was abuzz with excitement when the trio entered.

  ‘Right, people, listen up!’ Myron said, with a pleased look on his face. ‘I’ve taken care of the little problem upstairs’—he shot a withering glance at Jen—‘and now we are in a position to really start getting the New Year’s Eve manoeuvres underway! Gerick has devised a way to get to the weaponry we need, so I am going to need volunteers to help Gerick, Lonny and me steal the weapons we need to make this uprising a success.’

  Jen’s hand shot straight up, but Myron chose to ignore her.

  ‘Why not?’ Jen shrieked. ‘I thought I was part of this as well; don’t take it away from me now!’

  ‘You’re not strong enough, Jen,’ Myron replied. ‘Not for this part of the mission, anyway!’

  ‘Bollocks, Myron!’ Jen shot back. ‘I’m strong enough, and you know it!’

  ‘OK, OK!’ came Myron’s exasperated reply. He didn’t want an argument with her, not with the mood she had been in lately. Jen had a look of satisfaction on her face, and a secret agenda for wanting to go: she saw the perfect opportunity to find Besson, and kill him.

  Two more hands shot up, half-drunk members of The Independent Mind. They didn’t know what they were fully getting themselves into. Myron wasn’t about to say no, as he needed all the help he could get.

  ‘Well! That’s six of us—anyone else care
to volunteer?’ Myron asked. ‘Only a couple more people are needed if we’re to get this done in one trip!’

  Lawrence came forward to offer his help, as he knew where the weapons were.

  ‘Good, Lawrence, that’s good! Come and join us!’ Myron took hold of his hand and shook it vigorously. Jen threw a weary look Lawrence’s way. Although he had been an integral part of her rescue, he had also been an integral part of her interrogation and she couldn’t fully understand why he was there—but he was, and there was nothing that she could do about it. Myron shoved Gerick to the front to deliver his plan.

  ‘Gerick, this is your show now,’ Myron said. ‘Tell us what we’ll need to do to get the weaponry!’

  Gerick smiled uneasily as he opened up a rough drawing of the floor plans for the Parliament buildings, and in particular, the older buildings in which the weaponry was supposedly stashed.

  ‘The easiest way to do this is through the crawlspace in my office —’

  ‘Pretty convenient, don’t you think?’ Jen chimed in.

  ‘Jen! Stop it!’ Myron grabbed her arms. ‘Remember what I told you I would do if you stepped out of line again?’

  ‘Sorry, Gerick, carry on!’ Myron said solemnly. ‘Take no notice of her!’

  Jen stared blankly at Myron, not sure that she liked this new version of him. He wasn’t the boy she had beaten into submission anymore, but a true leader and revolutionary.

  ‘As I was saying,’ Gerick continued, ‘the quickest and easiest way to get to the weaponry is through the crawlspace in my office. Don’t worry about whether or not the crawlspace can carry all of our combined weight. I assure you it will. It is made from reinforced steel and can hold up to one thousand five hundred pounds in weight.’ Gerick’s definitive answer was reassuring to all. ‘The weaponry is situated in the rafters of the old House of Lords, a further five hundred yards west of our entrance point. I will take the lead, since I know the precise location from the crawlspace.’