The Song of the Underground

by Wendy Reakes

  Ben took his hands from her. He glanced at the pair standing next to the window and he shook his head. “Wait!” There were so many thoughts buzzing around his head, he needed to stop and take stock. He paced up and down the palatial bedroom, which clearly belonged to the princess. He stopped and regarded the three of them: a princess, an American, his wife, in an underground palace beneath London. “You’d better tell me everything.”

  Chapter 74

  The Bird Catcher was with the king. They were both in her stateroom. The king was pacing the floor as the Bird Catcher waited for him to speak. “It’s time to make a stand. Tonight after the performance, we will do it then.”

  Byron stepped forward. She knew she was risking everything. “But, king...”

  He silenced her, as he always did when he was contemplating his moves. “We knew this day would come. They want our city. We have to protect it.” He beat his hand across his chest. “I...I need to protect my people.”

  “We can do it without bloodshed.”

  He laughed, a snarl curling his lip. “No blood will be spilled. We shall send them to Damnation. Let them burn.” His voice boomed around the room like cannon fire. “We will demonstrate that we will not tolerate an assault on our city. We will not go. Move? Ha! They think it is so easy. We have lived here for centuries. They think we can just take up residence in another place? Their leader is a fool.”

  “King, they are offering great wealth. And a royal marriage. Your son, Heron, will be joined with their blue blood. It is what you have often dreamed of.”

  He scoffed. “Hah, the price is too high. And wealth? What is that? What can they give us that we don’t already have? No...No, I am not the ruler to face these consequences. Perhaps one day...my heirs, but no, not this king.”

  Chapter 75

  The rain came.

  It was pouring outside as it had poured the day before when Mark had entered Cannes’ abode. Thirty-six hours had passed. More than just one crazy day. He stepped up to the window where the shutters were half closed to prevent anyone seeing them walking about inside. It was enough to allow air into the chamber, for them all to breathe and regain their energy.

  “I need to speak to Barnes,” Ben Mason said.

  Mark had listened to every word discussed over the past hour, but it had been difficult to take in. He looked at Wren, lying on her bed. She was on her side, with her hands joined as if in prayer, tucked beneath her cheek. Her position reminded Mark of the sleeping angel in Highgate Cemetery, the place where they’d met, when his whole world had turned upside down. Literally!

  He turned to look at Ben Mason. He had his head in his hands as he sat on the floor with his back against the wall and his elbows propped up on his knees. Charlotte was next to him with her eyes half-closed and with her head resting on his strong shoulder.

  Everyone was exhausted.

  “To give him the message?”

  “Yes and to make sure he abides by it.” He watched as Charlotte stood up and crossed the room towards the bed. She slowly moved onto it, to lie down next to Wren.

  “You should get some rest too,” Ben said to Mark.

  It was the only encouragement he needed. Mark went to the bed and placed himself on Wren’s other side. Then, as the rain washed the city outside the palace, Wren opened her eyes and smiled and moved into the crook of his arm, before they all drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 76

  “Give me an update.” Nick Vaughan was sitting back in his chair, swigging from a white plastic cup. His two associates, opposite him, were drinking from their own Starbucks. Theirs were coffees, unlike his own soothing amber nectar taken from the bottle hidden under a file in his bottom drawer.

  “Charlotte has gone off the radar.”

  He nodded. “Another one off the radar. It’s been a week for it. What about the PM? Has she gone off the radar too?” Nick chuckled at his own joke.

  “No, of course not, we would have heard...” Tim Trainer swung his head around to look at his partner, looking for reassurance.

  “I was joking, for Christ’s sake.”

  “Sorry, Nick.”

  “Well? Where is she?”

  “Who?”

  “Charlotte, for Christ’s sake.”

  Brett Welsh stepped in. “That’s just it, we don’t know. She was escorted from Downing Street in the early hours of yesterday morning. We lost them...and no one’s heard from her since.”

  “What about her brother?”

  He shook his head. “We don’t think he knows, but we’re keeping our minds open on that one.”

  “Is that right?”

  There was a silence in the room. It was a heavy silence, one that Nick Vaughan enjoyed creating. It amused him to keep his employees on their toes. He threw his cup into the waste paper basket and watched the eyes of the two men follow it. Nick stood up and walked to the window overlooking Fleet Street. From where he was standing in his 19th floor corner office, he could just see the dome of St Paul’s Cathedral beyond the roof tops.

  “Keep a vigil outside his flat, until he leaves, or until Charlotte goes to see him. Report any movements back to me...all movements.”

  He didn’t turn away from the window, but he could tell the two men behind him knew the meeting was over. He heard the door close and returned to sit behind his desk. His back was playing up again. He pulled his quarter full bottle of scotch from the drawer and tugged a plastic cup from the stack on the water cooler. As he filled it, he contemplated the comings and goings of Charlotte Croft and her husband, Ben. What was the Prime Minister using them for and where were they going when they supposedly ‘went off the radar’? Maybe he needed to do his own investigating, or maybe....

  He picked up the phone and pressed a button. His secretary picked up. “Brenda, get me Downing Street. I want to talk to the Prime Minister. Tell them it’s a matter of urgency and that I need to speak to her today.” He put the receiver down and sipped his drink until the phone rang again. He picked up. “Prime Minister. We need to talk.”

  Chapter 77

  It was only late afternoon, but Alice Burton was exhausted. She had kicked her shoes off beneath her desk as she signed some documents, which Michael was handing to her one at a time.

  “Is Nick Vaughan here yet?”

  “He’s outside.”

  Alice scrawled her signature over the final page and slipped her feet back into her shoes. She had been out all day, opening London’s fashion week. She had been delighted when they asked her. She was after all a dedicated follower of British fashion. “Send him in and bring tea.”

  At least she had his visit to look forward to, Alice pondered as she undid the top two buttons of her grey silk Vivian Westwood blouse. She and Nick Vaughan went way back. In fact she had leaked a few stories to him when she was the previous PM’s aide. She liked Nick, mainly because he couldn’t stop checking out her cleavage. It gave her a satisfying sense of sexual prowess. That, along with a political edge, was a powerful combination for just a mild flirtation.

  The door opened and Nick Vaughan entered with a soft smile on his lips. It was a respectful smile with a hint of passion attached to it. Yes, Alice thought, he still fancied her.

  “Prime Minister.” He bent at the waist, took her hand, and brushed his lips over her fingers. Alice raised her chin and looked down her nose at his balding head. Who did he think she was; the Queen? He stood up and towered above her, looking down at the crease between her bulging breasts, beneath her silk blouse. He tore his eyes away, pretending he hadn’t looked.

  “To what do I owe this pleasure, Nick? I haven’t seen you for what...three years, and now here you are.”

  “I was sorry to hear about your husband. He was a good man.”

  “Thank you. Yes, he was indeed.” Alice sat upon a chair on the wrong side of her desk and offered him the seat next to hers. She crossed her legs so that the hem of her skirt rose an inch and she sat balanced on one side of her bottom. She’d often
practiced the pose in the mirror; it made her look slimmer.

  He glanced at her ankle moving back and forth. She was wearing skin tone tights, but he wasn’t to know that. They could be stockings for all he knew. Let his imagination run riot. She ran her hand down the front of her blouse, making his eyes dart to where the fabric strained against the pearl buttons. She coughed. He coughed back.

  “So, what can I do for you, Nick?”

  “Actually, it’s what I can do for you, Mrs. Burton.”

  “Alice!”

  He nodded and smiled. “Alice.”

  “Go on.” She still wasn’t interested. For whatever reason he was there, she probably knew about it already. The press all thought they had everything covered when it came to the government.

  “It’s about Ben Mason.”

  Ben Mason. No. Please don’t say it. “What about him?”

  Well, it’s not so much him, Alice. It’s his wife, Charlotte. She’s one of my people you know.”

  “Yes, I believe I do know that.”

  “Well it seems her disappearance is causing quite a stir in other news circles.”

  “Disappearance?”

  “Why, yes. She seems to have gone off the radar with Ben Mason. Everyone thinks it’s strange.”

  “Everyone!? Not you?”

  “Well, no. I mean she’s one of mine. She always tells me everything...if there’s anything going down.” He coughed again. “I think those two love birds have just taken some time off together. You remember what that’s like, Alice.”

  She saw his cheeks redden. “Would you like some tea, or something stronger?” His eyes darted to the cabinet across the room where drinks were displayed in crystal decanters on a silver tray. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She smiled as she rose from her chair and smoothed her skirt down over her thighs. She felt his eyes boring into her back as she poured some scotch into a crystal glass. “Ice?”

  He coughed again. “Er, no ice, thank you, Alice.”

  She walked back with a drink in each hand and offered him one. “Cheers,” she said as they each raised their glasses to their lips.

  “Now then, what’s all this about Ben and Charlotte?”

  “My people tell me there’s some talk about Charlotte coming to Number Ten yesterday. Would you care to comment?”

  “Comment? Is this on the record?”

  He put his two palms in the air, like stop signs. “Absolutely not. Everything off the record! We go back a long time, Alice. I’m just here to try and stop the gossipmongers blowing this whole matter out of proportion.”

  She gave him a respectful nod. “Thank you, Nick. I can always rely on you.”

  “Of course, Prime Minister. Every time.”

  “Well, just between you and me, off the record and all, Charlotte was here yesterday.”

  “She was?”

  “Hmm. Nothing serious, but she wanted to talk to me about her brother.”

  “Her brother?”

  “Hmm. It seems he’s that fellow called ICE, you know that internet vigilante person. Dreadful man. I don’t know why Charlotte still speaks to him. She has such a wonderful career working for you at the paper, Nick. I feel like she’s jeopardising her future by being involved with someone who creates havoc wherever he goes. Don’t you agree?”

  Nick nodded. “Yes, I agree...I do.”

  Alice felt a surge of satisfaction, as it dawned on her that Nick Vaughan hadn’t known about Charlotte’s connection to ICE. Did the man know anything?

  She watched him thinking things through. “With respect...why would Charlotte come to you to talk about her brother?”

  “She wanted to tell me because she believed it was her brother’s involvement in his silly schemes that had caused Ben’s disappearance. Because Ben works for me, it seemed logical, don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, I do. It makes sense.”

  “Yes, that’s what I thought. So you see Nick there’s no story here.” Alice swallowed the rest of her drink. She looked at his glass sitting on the edge of the desk. It was empty already.

  Nick broke the silence. “Except...”

  “Yes?”

  “Where is Ben Mason?”

  “Oh, Ben’s just doing some undercover work for me. Nothing interesting. You know we have been looking at developing underground housing right here in London. It’s a project very dear to me. Ben’s checking out the feasibility of the scheme.”

  “Really? Where would that be then?”

  “Um, I think he’s looking at various locations.”

  “But the housing policy has been ongoing for what...two years now. Surely you have a location in mind already.”

  Alice remained silent. She wanted to see where he was going with it. Did he know about Sous Llyndum? She couldn’t tell.

  “I mean, Alice, you have stated in press releases that you hope to have a result on the overcrowding issue this year. Surely you have more to announce to the public, other than a possible location?” He smiled.

  She smiled back. She shifted her position so that her blouse gaped open a little. He didn’t seem to notice. “Okay, Nick. You’ve got me there. Yes, we have a location, but it’s delicate.”

  “How so?”

  She laughed a charming laugh. “Well, if I told you that, it may compromise our situation. You understand!”

  He nodded, his eyes smiling. He glanced at the gap in her blouse. “So, allow me to recap. Ben Mason the Minister of Planning and Construction has gone...um ‘underground’.” He used the term loosely, as a joke. Alice nodded and smiled. “And his wife, Charlotte...my employee, visited you to talk about her brother, who is none other than the vigilante called ICE.”

  Alice pouted and nodded.

  “So, really there’s no story. It’s all hearsay.”

  “Exactly right, Nick. There’s no story here.”

  Chapter 78

  Heron could hear banging. Bang, bang, bang. “Go away. Leave me alone.” It persisted; bang, bang... “Arghhh.” He threw the covers off and sat on the side of the bed. He was on his feet and over the other side of the room before the next knock came. Bang. His face was red with fury when he grabbed the handle and swung open the door. “Whaaaattttt?”

  The hand grabbed the back of his head before he could utter another word. The man’s body pushed him back inside the room, keeping hold of his long black hair so that Heron was forced to bow at the waist and study his own dirty feet. He heard the door close as another set of feet walked into the room. They were clad in biker boots with a trail of emerald green fabric as a backdrop. The man behind him released his hold. Heron straightened up when he heard Byron’s voice, “What have you been up to now, boy?”

  “Bird Catcher, I...I don’t know what you mean.” He still hadn’t looked her straight in the eye. He couldn’t.

  Cannes grabbed him by the back of the neck and forced him across the room towards the bed. Heron was naked apart from his britches undone at the waist, now falling over his white hips. He took hold of them and held them together with his hands as he was thrown onto the bed like a sack of okra. “Hey, you forget who I am, Cannes. I shall...”

  Byron’s hand went across his face, leaving a painful sting made by the leather of her gloves. “You listen to me, boy.” Her tone was deep and controlled. “You’re going to tell us everything you know or Cannes will be reporting your escapades to your father. Think yourself fortunate he went to me first and not to the king.”

  “What have I done, Bird Catcher?” He looked at Cannes who stood at the side of his bed like a prison guard with no expression on his face other than distaste. “He must surely be lying.”

  “The only liar is you. You have betrayed us to the Jellalabad, have you not?”

  He shook his head frantically. “No...No of course I have not...”

  “Liar.”

  Heron needed time to think...if they would just give him a moment.

  “Speak, boy. Before I instruct Cannes to go to the king.
/>   “All right...I’ll tell you. Let me get my breath back...”

  He saw Byron offer a nod to Cannes. He stepped back two paces, where he held his customary rigid, expressionless stance.

  Heron sat up and placed himself at the bottom of the bed next to where the Bird Catcher stood with her hands clutched in front of her as if she was praying. “I went to see Minister Barnes to tell him to leave.”