The Song of the Underground

by Wendy Reakes

  The Prime Minister had made the call personally. She was brief on the phone. “I need to talk to you. In private! Can you come tonight?” Of course Charlotte had agreed, who wouldn’t? Not just because it was the Prime Minister requesting the rendezvous, but because Charlotte was a reporter and a female one at that. Curiosity was her middle name. What a scoop, she thought as the PM hung up the phone, but Charlotte soon realized, judging by the undercover assignation with Alice Burton, the intel was not something she could put into print. In fact, she was convinced it had something to do with Ben. At least she hoped it was.

  Inside the reception hall, an aide took her coat and threw it over his arm. He didn’t speak as he led her through various state rooms to Alice Burton’s private quarters. Charlotte straightened her jacket and smoothed the front, just before he leaned down to turn the beautifully polished brass doorknob. She hoped she looked okay. What did one wear to a midnight rendezvous with the head of British politics? She’d decided on a grey linen trouser suit with a same-shade grey woolen turtle neck below the knee-length jacket. She had large silver hoops threaded through her ears and one-inch, burgundy coloured pumps. Formal, slash casual, slash smart. That should work.

  She walked past the aide who was standing between the open door and the inside of the private sitting room and there, in front of a burning log fire, sat Alice Burton. She was shoeless, with her stockinged feet up on a pouf, holding a drink in her hand, which rested on the arm of her chair. She moved her feet onto the floor and slipped them into her shoes, just as Charlotte took two paces into the room.

  She offered her a smile. “Miss Croft?”

  Charlotte nodded. “Good evening, Prime Minister.” Charlotte had always admired Alice Burton. She considered her to be a strong force in English politics and she was a great ambassador abroad. The American President, Joseph Weed and the First Lady were on very friendly terms, especially since Alice’s husband had died and left her a widow. Charlotte remembered writing a column about the occasion when the President and First Lady came over for the funeral. ‘The Widow and the Weeds’ she’d called it.

  “Come and sit next to the fire. It’s a cold night. I’m told the temperature has dropped outside.”

  “It has indeed, ma’am.”

  Alice laughed. “I’m not Her majesty the Queen, Miss Croft. You can call me Alice.”

  Charlotte felt her cheeks redden. She could have sworn that was the correct term. She stepped forward and sat in the chair opposite her. Only a pouf separated her from the PM now.

  “Please call me Charlotte.”

  “Charlotte,” she repeated with a dignified nod of her head. “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering us a hot drink, unless you’d care for something stronger?”

  “A hot drink would be perfect, thank you.”

  The P.M strummed her fingers in mid-air, prompting Charlotte to say her name aloud.

  “Alice,” Charlotte said with her charming smile.

  “Good. Ice broken!”

  Ice! Oh lord. What if this was about her brother? It was possible. The Secret Service must know who he was. In fact her connection to the internet vigilante called ICE might even be common knowledge.

  The door opened and the same aide who had opened the door, brought in a tray. He set it down upon the pouf. It was laden with two cups and saucers, a fine china tea pot, milk jug, and a silver pot with extra hot water. There was a bowl of sugar cubes with a pair of tiny silver tongs resting on the top, and a small plate of sliced lemon arranged into a yellow fan. At one end was a plate of toasted tea-cakes and some tiny homemade plain biscuits. The whole scene was very cozy and, quite frankly, it put Charlotte on edge.

  “How would you like it? Milk or lemon?”

  “Lemon.”

  “Me too.” She poured the tea artfully. Charlotte couldn’t remember having tea served like this since she'd been home to visit her grandmother. Nana Croft had raised her after Charlotte’s and Charlie’s parents had been killed when they were ten and twelve respectively. Her grandmother was eighty-four now, living in South Wales, and was as active as a woman half her age. She was all Charlotte and Charlie had in the world. Apart from Ben, but look how he had turned out.

  “Have we met before?” The Prime Minister sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. Her skirt rode up and Charlotte caught a glimpse of a chunky thigh.

  Charlotte nodded. “Once, very briefly. It was at an official function. I was with my husband, Ben Mason.”

  “Yes, I think I remember.” Charlotte somehow doubted she did. Alice Burton leaned forward and placed her cup on the tray. She picked up a small side plate with a linen napkin resting on the top and handed it to Charlotte. “Can I tempt you with a tea cake? They are excellent. Welsh butter!” She smiled.

  Charlotte took one and put it on her plate. She laid the napkin across her lap. She wasn’t hungry, but she thought it would offend the Prime Minister if she’d said no.

  “You are Welsh.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes,” Charlotte said, with a polite nod. The P.M was well informed. Charlotte had no obvious accent as far as she was aware, and her origins weren’t something she talked about openly. “I’m from a little town outside Cardiff. My grandmother still lives there.”

  Alice Burton nodded. Charlotte got the impression she already knew as much. “I’m a Swansea girl, but of course that’s common knowledge.” Yes, everyone knew the Prime Minister was Welsh. The Welsh never let the English forget it. “I’m stalling. You can tell.”

  Charlotte had already recognized the Alice Burton’s tactics. She’d witnessed her methods of persuasion and influence on many an occasion on television. She wasn’t known as the People’s Prime Minister for nothing. She smoothed the way, offering a personal approach by talking about the recipient’s private life. She was, no doubt, briefed before every meeting.

  “I am curious, I must say.” Charlotte wasn’t being herself. She was hesitant to tell the truth. This was such a big first for her and it had been a long day. She was exhausted and her fatigue was coming across in her responses. She hoped she wouldn’t make a complete fool of herself in front of this powerful, formidable woman.

  “Yes, of course. It’s about Ben.”

  Charlotte felt her shoulders relax. Well it was official, it wasn’t about Charlie. She had that to be thankful for. “Ben?”

  Alice nodded. “When was the last time you spoke to him?”

  “This afternoon when he came home.” A picture of her husband flashed through her mind. It was the moment she told him she was going to have an abortion. He hadn’t even been fazed. Bastard!

  She nodded. “Does Ben make you party to his movements, normally?”

  “No, we keep our professional lives separate from our private life. It works.” That part was a lie. Clearly it didn’t work otherwise they wouldn’t be separated now.

  “I see. So you don’t have any knowledge of what Ben is working on at the moment?”

  “No…I don’t.”

  The Prime Minster paused. “Ben is working on a project…a secret project, under my instruction.”

  Charlotte nodded. “Under the radar.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Am I allowed to ask what the project is?”

  “You are…And I have every intention of filling you in. You see, Miss Croft…the truth of the matter is…I’d like you to go and find him for me.”

  Chapter 38

  They wouldn’t let Charlotte go home, but she considered that to be a good thing since she only had an hour before she had to begin her mission. Mission! Good Lord! The whole thing was crazy. Who did they think she was, Jane Bond? It was one in the morning and she was lying on top of a sumptuous bed in one of Downing Street’s guest rooms. She’d been advised to rest while they finalized their preparations, but even though she closed her eyes, hoping to grab forty winks, her mind was racing. She was thinking about Ben and where he was; in a place underground. Shit!

  Alice Burton explained as
much as Charlotte needed to know. Or so she said. There was a city beneath London. It was called Sous Llyndum. Three-and-half-thousand people lived there. It had a king, for goodness sake. A king! It was all too much for Charlotte to take in. It was like someone telling her that heaven did exist and it was full of clouds and Grecian pillars and fields of daisies. She couldn’t have believed that unless she’d seen it for herself, and this was no different, except she was going to see Sous Llyndum. In just an hour, as a matter of fact.

  Alice Burton had divulged further intel, as she had called it. Intel, which was so classified, Charlotte wasn’t allowed to go back to her own flat or to use a phone. She wasn’t permitted to make any arrangements or to tell Charlie where she was going. They had even provided her with a change of clothes and a kit bag. To be carried, she’d been informed, when she was to be picked up and escorted to the city below ground.

  Shit!

  She left Number Ten with two escorts and a driver. They were dressed in civvies, but she recognized one as the Prime Minister's aide, the one who had brought the tea. His name was Michael and that was as much as Charlotte needed to know. She was sat between them, with Michael on the right and the other one on her left.

  She was now dressed in combat trousers, walking boots and a jacket that reminded her of the Gucci safari jacket she had in her closet at home. Charlotte had filled the pockets with some money, a lip gloss stick and the keys to her flat. Her mobile phone had been taken away from her last night, but now Michael was handing it back. “It won’t work below ground but the battery is fully charged. You can use it when you come back to let us know you are above ground. We will pick you up immediately.”

  “Wait! What do you mean we? I thought you were coming with me.”

  “No. It would arouse too much suspicion.”

  She turned to face the other man on her left. “So it’s just me and him?”

  “No, you will go alone.”

  Charlotte did a double take. “Are you nuts? I can’t go on my own. I wouldn’t know…”

  “We will brief you, don’t worry.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t worry?” Okay, now she was worried. “Perhaps I’m not the best person for this…mission. I really think you should get someone more skilled in this sort of thing.”

  “You are the only one.”

  “Why? Why should it be me?”

  “You have Ben Mason’s trust. Only you can deliver the message without raising suspicion. The king and his people cannot know you were sent there by the Prime Minister. That is essential.”

  “Yes, I understand that, but…”

  “Don't worry, you'll be fine. We are here for you.”

  Chapter 39

  Cannes was moving alongside Mark Buzzard as he was whisked away by two of Cannes’ men. “What were you thinking? I told you to stay in the quarters. Why did you go into the centre? What were you thinking?”

  “Hey, I was hungry. Besides Wren told me I would blend in.”

  “Blend in. You are as crazy as the princess. Have you no sense?”

  “Hey, man, this is all new to me!” Mark was looking back and forth at the two men at his side. “Hey guys, I can walk, you know. If you don’t mind.” They looked at Cannes for affirmation. He nodded and they released him. “Thanks.”

  They had crossed the bridge from the centre and now they were shoving him into one of the boats. He had his back to one of the stacks in the center and as they fired up with steam, it startled him. He leaned forward and watched Cannes steer the boat in silence.

  “Where are we going?”

  “A place you will not like…”

  “Sounds great. What exactly is this Bedlam place the king refers to?”

  “It was once a place for the criminally insane, before the upsiders demolished it and moved the building to another part of London. They did not demolish the basements, however, and there were numerous levels going hundreds of feet underground. They didn’t even move the people; they simply built over it and left them there. It is a bad place.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Bedlam has been used by our people for many years as a warning for those who disobey the rules. Bedlam is feared by all.”

  Mark was losing his sense of humour. In fact, he must surely have lost it when he first entered the city. Cannes seemed like an okay guy, maybe Mark could appeal to his better judgment. One that was a lot more civilized. “You don’t have to take me there.”

  “I have no choice.”

  “Sure you do. You can just take me back to your house, go get Wren, and then we can leave, nice and peaceful like.” Mark didn’t think the idea would wash, but it was worth a try.

  “Has nothing been explained to you? The Princess can never leave Sous Llyndum.”

  What was he saying? “But, that’s…”

  “Forget it, I say. It’s impossible. She would never survive.”

  “We’d find a way.”

  “You don’t know what you’re dealing with here. You’ll be fortunate if you ever find your way out of Bedlam.”

  Chapter 40

  Charlotte was taken to the embankment under the cover of darkness. The aide, Michael, had opened a door in the wall under Blackfriars Bridge, leading to a dark passageway, going underground. Charlotte was instructed to switch on her flashlight. It was so powerful, it lit up the tunnel at least thirty feet in front of her, but it wasn’t enough to stop her shaking so hard that the torch would stop moving and flickering.

  She couldn’t remember another time in her life when she had been more frightened than she was right then and she wasn’t the sort to get spooked by much. Hell, it was only a few hours ago she’d been burgled. She'd got over that hadn't she? Now, there she was being sent on a mission by the Prime Minister to give a message to her estranged husband who was somewhere in a lost city beneath London. It was so bizarre and so outlandish and so terrifying, that she considered announcing her pregnancy. Surely they wouldn’t send a pregnant woman down there. Especially not on her own!

  As she stood inside the opening in the wall staring into the darkness, Michael adjusted her back pack so that it sat higher on her shoulders. “Remember, when you get to the end. You wait until you are met. One of the Llyn’s security guards will take you to Ben. You just have to say you are his wife and that you came to find him, because you were worried when he didn’t come home?”

  “Yes…but isn’t that a bit lame? I mean, how would I have found the entrance without anyone leading me to it?”

  Michael shook his head. Those guys knew what they were doing. At least she hoped they did. “Ben showed you before he left. The Llyns don’t understand our own security measures. They’ll go for that.”

  Charlotte nodded. It sounded simple enough. At least it would have if she was being sent to another country. A lost city in another world was something quite different. “So I give Ben the message and then we come back. Then I call you guys.”

  “Affirmative.”

  After the door closed behind her and she was left all alone, choking back the fear that made her tremble until her knees threatened to give way, Charlotte began her hike with a gentle trot. They had warned her it was quite a distance, but the reality of it was quite different. It was like one of those dreams where you keep running and running, and the destination gets further away the more you run.

  To pass the time, and reminded of the conveyor belts passengers walked along at airports, and wishing there was one in that tunnel right then, Charlotte thought about her honeymoon in Florida with Ben. She had always wanted to visit Disney World, but she’d confessed to feeling foolish going there without a child in tow. It turned out Ben had relatives in America, so en-route they’d picked up his two nephews and taken them along. It was the best time she’d ever had. She’d felt like a girl again, until they got back home and back to reality.

  As the tunnel kept moving in front of her, Charlotte pictured herself kissing Ben when they were last in bed together, when he’d expl
ored her body with his fingertips and then his tongue. The image of his head ducking under the sheets made her smile as she trotted along the tunnel. That was until the image of him kissing that slut backbencher returned to haunt her. Before that, they’d been crazy about each other, spending every waking hour in each other’s company, when they weren’t working. It was enough for both of them until he ruined it. And now she was pregnant. Wouldn’t you know it!