For a while, Anna does not say anything. She ponders what Will has just told her. Eventually, she breaks the silence. ‘Do you believe the Stones can create fire?’
Will wants to tell her about the fragment, but the less everyone knows the better for now.
‘No,’ he says, avoiding her eyes. ‘But some people do and are prepared to kill for them.’
‘It’s clearly some sort of silly myth,’ she says. ‘Essentially stone is composed of grains of minerals arranged in an orderly manner. The aggregate minerals forming the rock are held together by chemical bonds, none of which, to my knowledge, are combustible or can create fire. Unless…’ She pauses.
‘Unless what?’
‘Unless the stone is flint. Even then, you would need a piece of steel and all that could be achieved is a spark.’
Will understands the supernatural mythology of the Stones is hard to swallow. He tries to smile at Anna’s logical explanation although he is impressed with her scientific knowledge.
‘At Beaulieu,’ says Anna, changing the subject, ‘you could shoot and fight better than any of the other students. Where did you learn to do that?’
Will shifts uneasily in his chair. ‘I told you I lost my memory. I… I don’t know.’
Anna watches him through narrowed eyes.
Does she think he is an enemy spy?
After a moment she shrugs. ‘If the Major and Eoin trust you, then I do too.’
‘Forget that for now. We need a plan for London. We are not out of the woods yet.’
‘Agreed. We could just make our way to Baker Street,’ she says.
‘No. That is what they will expect us to do.’
‘Then what do you propose?’
Will sits forward and Anna leans closer to hear what he has to say.
It is almost midnight when the train approaches Victoria. In line with blackout restrictions, all carriage lights are switched off. In the bright moonlight, the London skyline fills Will with a mixture of emotions just like it did on The Outcast. He feels excited as if he is somehow returning home, even though he has no memories of the city beyond waking up on The Outcast four days ago. But like then, he has other things to think about now, other concerns lie ahead. All that matters now is finding the Stones before VIPER do.
The other passengers begin to gather their belongings and make their way to the aisle outside the carriage as they prepare for the train to stop.
Will and Anna stand by the doors that face away from the platform. As the train slows Will pushes open the door. ‘Good luck,’ he says to Anna.
‘Thanks.’
She steps to the open door and jumps, landing with the grace of a cat on the walkway between the tracks. She springs up immediately and runs alongside the train, her arms open. Will tosses the suitcase in her direction. She catches it, but it slides from her grip and falls on to the track opposite. Will’s heart sinks.
‘Please don’t be broken,’ he whispers in a quiet prayer.
The train comes to a stop and Will follows the other passengers onto the platform, mingling among them as if he was a member of one of the families. He scans the platform for anyone suspicious but it is dark, which is in his favour.
He spots four male silhouettes at the entrance to the concourse. One of them greets a passenger with a handshake and another opens his arms to a woman who runs enthusiastically toward him.
The other two men remain watchful. With his head down, Will walks with the other passengers, quickening his pace as he see one of the men pointing in his direction. Both men turn and start navigating the crowd as if tailing him.
Will dashes ahead and, with relief, sees Anna hurry out of sight and onto Victoria Street. Cheered by the knowledge that their plan to split up is so far successful, he turns and runs across the main concourse.
He steers a course away from Anna, through a corridor, which is thankfully empty. Will sprints down it, winding up a rat bomb at the same time. He hears the echoing footfalls of the men behind him, stops and turns to face them, his heart pounding in his chest.
‘Do you know what this is?’ he shouts, waving the rat. The men slow and do not respond, but he knows they are wary. ‘Don’t think I won’t use it.’
One of them laughs and reaches into his pocket, but Will tosses the rat and runs. There is a gunshot and he ducks as a bullet chips the wall to his left. The rat explodes and a cloud of dust and masonry follows him out of the tunnel and onto the street outside. Wilton Street. He coughs and runs towards Victoria Street where he hears Anna’s voice. She is sitting in the back of a black cab. He jumps inside.
The driver, a bulldog of a man, stares at the smoky corridor. ‘Was that a bomb?’ he says.
‘I think so,’ says Will, coughing, his mouth dry with the smoke and dust.
‘You was lucky, mate. Blimey, we get no peace here. Where to?’
Will has not thought about that. Where could they go? They need somewhere that is close and remote enough to use the radio without attracting attention. He thinks hard and recalls a place hidden deep in the folds of his memory. ‘Primrose Hill, please.’
‘Primrose Hill, it is,’ says the driver.
Will glances back at the corridor. There is no sign of the men. He is relieved, but also terrified. Had he just killed them?
Chapter 23
Primrose Hill
The cab driver drives up Regents Park Road and pulls over. Will hands across some of Eli’s coins, gets out and waits until the cab is out of sight.
‘How do you know this place?’ asks Anna.
Will hesitates before answering. ‘I don’t remember how – I just do,’ he says, recalling Skipper’s story of the friend who had lost his memory. The poor man had not recognised family or friends yet he knew the town where he had lived all his life. He had gone mad in the end. Will shudders.
‘Why here?’ asks Anna.
‘The hill will provide us a clear, open space where we can operate the radio without interruption. We should be safe here for the time being. Once we get a signal out, they’ll come and get us.’
They trek across the darkness and settle on a secluded spot at the top of the hill under the protection of some bushes. Will sits on the damp grass, takes out the torch, and shines its beam at the suitcase. The radio is neatly built inside. Just like the one at Beaulieu, it has a large rectangular power pack and a panel with dials and buttons, which operate the transmitter and the receiver. There is a compartment that holds the headphones and strapped inside the suitcase lid is the user manual.
He puts on the headphones and switches on the radio. Turning the dial, he listens for a signal, but there is nothing.
‘I think it’s broken.’
‘I’m sorry I dropped it.’
‘It was my stupid idea to throw it off the train. I should have taken it with me.’
‘It wasn’t stupid. You would never have got away from those men if you were carrying it.’
She edges closer and Will can feel the heat from her body. It feels strange having her so close, this girl who was so dismissive of him, but he likes it.
Focusing on the radio, he removes the headphones, reaches for the manual and starts paging through it for clues. There is a diagram of the chassis, which he recognises from Radio Operations class. He wonders about Mr Singh and the selfless way he had saved them and hopes he has survived the siege.
He unclips the transceiver panel, places it on the grass and shines the beam into the chassis. The power connector is in place and the fuses are all seated. The scale lamps are intact and the earthing leads are in place. So what is the problem? He leans forward for a closer look and peers in through the gap that houses the power connections.
There is a loose wire.
‘Got it,’ he says, his fingers reaching through the gap. The solder holding the power supply wires to the chassis is broken. He spots an excess of wire on another connection, turns to Anna and hands her the torch. ‘Would you mind?’
She smi
les and points the beam at the chassis. Will is thankful he had the sense to put on his old blazer. He removes the wire cutters from the sleeve of his blazer, cuts the wire and wraps it round the broken solder, reconnecting the power supply.
‘Fingers crossed, that will do it,’ he says.
He switches the radio on, but there is still no response. He turns dials and knobs and pushes the On/Off button several times. He looks at Anna who regards him quizzically.
‘Maybe the power supply is flat,’ she offers.
Will isn’t so sure. Eli had told him it was charged. He recalls a trick Mr Singh had shown him when the school’s transistor radio was unresponsive. He lifts his hand and slaps the side of the radio. It trembles and sparks into life.
Will and Anna smile at each other as he turns the tuning dial. The sound of white noise and static crackles through the headphones. Relief sweeps over him.
‘Well done, Will.’
‘How is your Morse code?’
‘As good as anyone’s,’ she says, and confidently reaches for the radio. She looks at Will, ‘The birds have flown the nest?’
‘That’s what Eli said.’
Will watches transfixed as Anna puts on the headphones and starts pressing the telegraph key. After a moment he closes his eyes and takes three deep breaths. At last they might get out of this mess.
Almost two hours pass with no luck. They huddle together to keep warm as Anna continues tapping the distress call at intervals, her free hand poised with a pencil and paper, ready to write down instructions.
Will is concerned the battery may not last much longer and is about to think of a back-up plan when Anna looks up.
‘They’ve heard us.’
‘At last! What do they say?’
There is a pause and then Anna begins scribbling on the paper.
.… . / … .- ..-. . /.… --- ..- … . / .---- … -- / .- - … - … . .-. .-.. .. -. . / … - .- … - / .--.… .. - . -.-..… .- .-- … -..
None of it means anything to Will. ‘What does it say?’
‘The safe house 13 Abberline Street Whitechapel. Do you know Whitechapel?’
Will shakes his head. ‘No, but I will get us there somehow. We should wait until morning. Those men, if they are still alive, may be looking for us. There may be others too. At least during the day we can blend in with the crowds.’
Anna lies down to try and get some rest. Will does not intend to sleep and he does not want to worry Anna. As the hours pass, his fertile imagination makes him think VIPER had seen him get into the taxi, tracked down the driver, who told them Will and Anna were sitting all alone on top of Primrose Hill. They could be on their way here right now. He shakes his head and pushes the thought from his head.
He looks at the text in the notebook under the torchlight, hoping to unravel some clues.
‘Do you really think the Stones are in London?’ says Anna.
‘I think so.’
‘You don’t seem very sure.’
‘I could be wrong, but it just seems the right place to start, considering Edward’s translation of “Oranges and Lemons”.’ Will pockets the notebook and switches off the torch. He can feel Anna appraising him. Perhaps she thinks he is mad.
‘We should get some rest. It will be dawn soon. I’ll keep watch,’ he says, rubbing his hands to keep them warm.
As he sits in the silence before dawn, the gravity of their situation plays on his mind. The siege of Beaulieu was horrific. His stomach clenches at the image of Violet lying dead in the Great Hall. And what of Edward, Eli, the Major, Mr Singh and the others? Were they dead? He does not want to contemplate that. This was all because of the notebook and the Stones. The responsibility for finding them is now down to him. Wasn’t it always? he thinks, hugging his knees tight to his chest. And what has happened to Eoin? He might be the only person to have uncovered information about Will’s past. Was he dead too? Was he gone forever and, with him, the keys to Will’s memories that he so wanted back?
‘Are you alright?’ whispers Anna, interrupting his thoughts.
Will looks in her direction. She is sitting up and looking back at him with a concerned expression.
‘I’m fine,’ he lies, but the truth is, he is terrified. He is a stranger in his own body, caught up in a quest to find a terrible weapon in the middle of a world at war. How did this ever happen? He wants to pour it all out to her, but the sound of bird song shows that dawn has snuck on up them. The first rays of the sun dapple through the gaps in the bushes and lifts his spirit. They still have a chance to get through this, but first they have to find the safe house. Will does not know Whitechapel and finding Abberline Street might be tricky.
‘We should go,’ he says.
Anna nods in agreement.
Will heaves up his cold and stiff limbs, straightens his tie, and combs his hair into a side parting with his fingers.
‘Best we don’t look as if we have been sleeping in the bushes all night.’
Anna begins to brush off the grass and twigs from his clothes. She takes a comb from her pocket and sweeps it through Will’s hair. She fixes his tie properly.
‘That’s better,‘ she says, stepping back and combing her own shiny brown hair.
Will feels a little flush inside and smiles.
Anna smiles back and pockets her comb.
Together they walk out of the bushes and into the open space of Primrose Hill where, through the whitebeam trees, they can see the city of London waking up and beginning a new day.
Will looks east, in the direction of Whitechapel, which is a long walk from where they are standing. ‘We should go. We can take turns carrying the radio,’ he says.
They leave Primrose Hill and walk onto Regents Park Road. It is still very early and the only signs of life are the blackout blinds being drawn from the windows of early risers.
They walk to Camden Town and into the tube station where early commuters are beginning their journeys to work. With the last of their money they buy two single tickets to Whitechapel.
The train pulls into the platform and Will sees their reflection in the carriage windows. His picture has been in the newspapers and the Beaulieu crest on Anna’s breast pocket is an unusual feature. They both stand out.
‘We need a change of clothes,’ he says.
The train stops, the guard alights, and cranks open the doors.
‘They keep all sorts of supplies, including clothes, in safe houses,’ says Anna.
‘Good,’ says Will, relieved there will be one less thing to worry about.
The guard blows his whistle and hops quickly onto the train, cranking the doors shut as Will and Anna huddle among the throng.
‘We have no clue where Abberline Street is. If only we had a map.’
‘Leave that to me,’ says Anna, who turns and threads her way through the commuters.
Will watches as she talks to the guard, her face warm and smiling, a different person from the one she usually reveals.
‘What did you say to him?’
‘I asked him where the nearest library was. We can get a map there.’
Chapter 24
The Safe House
Friday, 9th May 1941
The guard has directed them to Bishopsgate Library. Will thinks the library an odd building, resembling a narrow castle, sandwiched in between two equally narrow but much less grand blocks of flats.
A thin balding librarian nods curtly to them as they enter. His eyes linger on the crest of Anna’s blazer. Does he recognise the criss-crossed pistols and dagger? Will feels a fluttering sensation in his stomach and considers leaving, but the librarian looks away casually and starts putting books onto the shelves. Will relaxes and decides that he is just being paranoid.
No one else gives them a second glance as they make their way to the shelves of maps. They could be students visiting the library for a day of study, or so Will hopes.
The reference area is quiet and warm with the familiar and welcoming smell of
dry and dusty books. Will wastes no time and quickly finds the London A-to-Z. Anna keeps a lookout, ensuring no one is watching, and shields him as he shoves it into the bag.
‘Got it?’ she says.
‘Yes.’
Will sees a sign for Ancient History books and has an idea.
‘Let’s go,’ says Anna.
‘Not yet.’
A man’s voice interrupts their exchange. ‘May I help you young people.’
The librarian is standing beside them. Up close, Will takes stock of him. He is dressed in a brown tweed suit and wears a garish yellow bow tie.
‘We’re looking for Greek mythology.’
The Librarian narrows his gaze at Will and points to their left.
‘Thank you,’ says Will, looking away, hoping the man’s prolonged look was not down to recognising him from the newspapers.
He starts to scan the bookshelf labelled Mythology unsure what he is hoping to find.
He hears someone approach and feels his muscles tensing.
‘Have you travelled far?’ asks the librarian.
‘Yes. We’re from St Luke’s,’ says Anna, quick off the mark.
‘St Luke’s? I can’t say I’ve heard of it.’
‘It’s in Wimbledon,’ she says.
‘Yes, Wimbledon,’ says Will.
‘Oh, well, I don’t know that area very well.’
‘Where can I find books on the Restoration?’ says Anna, changing the subject.
The librarian hesitates before answering. ‘This way, if you please. The subject is a speciality of mine, actually.’
‘Oh, that’s nice.’
Will listens to their voices fade and then starts pulling books on Greek mythology from the shelves. He leafs through them, scanning their contents for clues. Ten minutes pass, then twenty, but he finds nothing of value. From the other side of the library, he feels Anna staring at him and he looks up.
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