Chapter 30
Memories
The cabinet lock takes seconds to open. Will lifts up the heavy glass lid and takes out the astrolabe. It is cool to the touch and heavier than he expected. He runs his fingers over the battered surface feeling out the symbols as if they might provide some clue to what he should do with it.
‘How old do you think it is?’ says Anna.
‘I don’t know. As old as the Stones, I suppose.’
They say nothing for a moment, staring at it in awe. It is ancient and, judging by its scars, it has been through many wars.
The walls and ceiling tremble with the distant thudding of the night-time bombs.
‘We should stay here until morning,’ says Anna.
Will nods and pulls two blankets from the exhibits.
They sit together on the platform, wrapped in the dusty blankets to keep themselves warm. At last the bombing stops. They pore over the notebook trying to figure out how the astrolabe works, but the etchings reveal nothing. Judging from the sketch of the man holding aloft the astrolabe, they both agree that for the astrolabe to work they must be high up a mountain, when the moon is full.
‘London is a little short on mountains,’ quips Anna.
Will manages a smile, sighs and continues to flick through the notebook, stopping at a sketch of what looks like an elaborate Greek crucifix, inlaid with jewels. At its centre is an large eye. Will wonders what relevance the crucifix has.
Anna yawns.
‘Why don’t you get some sleep? I can keep watch,’ says Will.
‘I’ll never sleep down here. It’s a little creepy. Besides, we’re doing this together, remember?’
Anna’s words make him feel warm inside and he is so grateful she is with him. ‘Together,’ he says and for a moment he wants to tell her how remarkable she is, how much he admires and likes her, but he can’t quite muddle the words together. Instead, he manages, ‘I’m sorry you got dragged into this.’
‘It’s what I signed up for.’
She removes the cap from her head and begins combing her fingers through her thick hair. ‘I can keep watch if you want to get some sleep.’
‘I’m with you. It’s not the easiest of places to sleep.’
They say nothing for a moment and then Will speaks. ‘Tell me about you. How did you end up at Beaulieu?’
Anna looks away, staring into the middle distance. ‘I was born in Paris. My father was British, a writer, my mother was German, and an artist. They were Socialists, and political activists who travelled across Europe waving the flag for Socialism. In 1934, we moved from Poland to live in Berlin. My parents were appalled at the rise of the Nazi Party in Germany. They thought they could help stop it but…’ Anna stops talking for a moment, looks away and hugs her knees. ‘…During the Night of the Long Knives, they were taken from our home and marched outside to a dirty back street. I watched from my bedroom window. Mother, father and other members of the party were lined up and executed by the Secret Police.’
Will swallows, unable to comprehend what it must have been like for young Anna to witness her parents’ cold-blooded murder.
‘I was put into care in a horrible place and treated no better than a stray dog. And then, I was visited by a man. He was a friend of my father. He brought me back to England and put me into a boarding school and later he recruited me. Revenge for my parents. It was my duty, he told me. Who was I to argue? He had saved me, after all, and I had a lot to thank him for.’
‘What was his name?’
‘Chittlock. He was a teacher at the school, until recently.’
Will feels a chill to the core. Revenge for her parents’ death. His stomach is in knots, his head and heart mixed with emotions that he cannot make sense of. Something in what Anna says seems to ring true for him. Too deep and true for comfort. He doesn’t want to search down this memory. It feels too painful.
‘Do you hear that?’ whispers Anna.
Will can hear a light clattering of footsteps echoing from the passage leading to the eastbound platform. He looks in its direction and freezes. Emerging from the tunnel is a man, dressed in a suit and trilby. The man comes to an abrupt halt and stands perfectly still, staring in shock at the two young people wrapped in blankets and sitting amongst hundreds of unboxed rare and valuable exhibits. ‘They’re here!’ he shouts.
Chapter 31
The Chase
Saturday, 10th May 1941
Will jumps up, stuffs the notebook and astrolabe into his blazer pocket and picks up Frost’s Browning. He looks around for an escape route. There is only one.
‘We’ll have to go through the tunnel,’ he says.
Anna nods, grabs the torch and hops onto a sarcophagus resting on the rail track. Will follows and together they slide down to the track below. He glances back at the man who is navigating his way through the scattered exhibits. Anna puts on her cap and tucks her hair inside.
‘That’s my cover blown,’ she says with a wry smile.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ says Will.
They hurry up the uneven, oily surface of the track, into the tunnel where the darkness is absolute. Anna turns on the torch, its beam provides a small amount of light, enough to make their way up the track without tripping over.
Will turns to see the man lowering himself on to the sarcophagus. A second man has joined him. They are both now carrying pistols.
‘Run!’
A gunshot echoes through the tunnel, the bullet whistles past them.
‘Get down!’ says Will.
Another bullet flies dangerously just over their heads. Anna turns off the torch. ‘We’re sitting targets with this light.’
Their eyes adjust to the gloom and they stumble forward as quickly as they can. Will crouches down as Anna runs ahead, and points the Browning at the silhouetted figures hurrying up the track. The gun is heavy and he trembles, his stomach churning at the thought of what he is about to do. But what choice does he have? It’s him and Anna against these men. There is only one choice. He aims the gun, squeezes the trigger and fires. The noise is deafening and the men throw themselves to the ground. Will fires again and again, crying out in anger as he does so. The men do not move but, as far as he can tell, they are unharmed.
He hears them whispering, fires again three times and then runs blindly after Anna. His foot slips on the oily surface and he falls, dropping the Browning, his face slamming against a rusty track. Winded and sore, he stands up, head spinning and hurries on.
‘Are you all right?’ says Anna.
‘Yes.’ Although his left cheekbone is throbbing.
The tunnel begins to vibrate and Will sees lights flash by in the distance. There’s a train coming. It is later in the morning than he’d thought.
Anna reaches out and holds his hand for support. It is warm and he squeezes it, but not too tightly.
Working together, they navigate the uneven slippery track.
He can hear the men behind them but they don’t seem to be gaining ground.
Will can see they are approaching the end of the tunnel, which is blocked with a wire fence. His heart sinks, but suddenly he sees that there is a gap at the top, which they can squeeze through.
Will hears a thud and then one of the men swears. He wonders if he has fallen.
He looks beyond the wire fence. There are lights shining in the adjoining tunnel that provide a small of amount of visibility. The track could be live. They will have to be mindful. He stands with his back to the fence and cups his hands into a footrest.
‘Stay clear of the rails. This is probably a working track.’
Anna climbs up and over effortlessly, slipping through the gap in the wire. Will pulls himself up and then looks up the lighted tunnel. He can see the platform ahead, like a porthole in the darkness, with commuters waiting for the next train.
‘It’s a live track,’ says Anna, confirming his suspicions.
By his calculations, it has been a few minutes since
the last train. That should give them enough time.
He exchanges looks with Anna who seems to know exactly what he has in mind.
‘Ready?’ she says.
‘Ready.’
They dash up the track as fast as they can, staying clear of the live rails. Will glances behind, hoping the two men are nowhere near the fence yet.
They keep running but something is not quite right. It doesn’t seem to be getting closer. A horrible thought occurs to him. He has made a terrible error. He swallows. In the depths of the underground, in the narrow dark tunnels, determining the distance of an endpoint accurately is more difficult than above ground. How could he be so stupid?
There is still no sign of a train. How long has it been since the last one? He estimates minutes, perhaps three, but that was wishful thinking. It was six minutes, maybe even more. That would mean… and then he hears it. The air trembles and the track vibrates. Will’s heart begins to pound.
Anna has heard the train and increases her pace. She is almost six feet ahead of him
The train rumbles in the distance and spurs Will on faster.
The weight of the astrolabe slams against his side, his arms are wide, pumping the air and providing the balance needed for the uneven surface.
The rumbling is now a rapid rattling of steel on steel, wheels racing over tracks. Will glances behind him and sees the light of the train, small but growing. Its distance is impossible to determine. Run. Just run.
He can see Anna near the entrance to the platform. ‘Hurry,’ she shouts.
Will can feel the train speeding toward them. He turns to see the driver’s face. He is yawning and oblivious to the young people on the track ahead. Will sprints forward toward the light, no longer a porthole but the entrance to Holborn station. He hears shouts from the commuters but ignores them. Anna has swung up to the platform, helped by some of the travellers. Will can feel the wind of the oncoming train. He reaches for the edge of the platform but he is weak and tired and loses his grip.
‘What the bloody hell are you two playin’ at?’ says a voice.
With his very last ounce of strength, he pulls himself onto the platform and lies on his back, gasping for breath as the train speeds into the station.
Chapter 32
The Lovebirds
As soon as Will is able to stand, they run to the exit, ignoring the glares of disapproval from the people on the platform. Will’s heart thuds against his chest as if it is trying to beat its way out of the confines of his tired and sore body. With their heads down, and not enough money, they race through the turnstiles, passing a guard who shouts for their tickets.
Outside, the street is bustling. The morning air cools Will’s face as they hurry away from the station. Keep moving; they have to keep moving but where should they go? Baker Street is the obvious choice, however, the agents of VIPER, or the Pastor, might be watching out for them. He looks west down High Holborn. He thinks they should just keep going until they come up with a place to in which to base themselves and then make the call to Baker Street.
Anna loops her arm in his as they cut across to Newton Street, which has seen the worst of the previous night’s air raid. Dust and smoke choke the air. Firemen are hosing down the last of the flames.
A policeman, wearing a protective tin hat, is standing close by watching them work. Will and Anna keep a low profile and pick their way over the rubble holding hands to keep each other steady. Anna’s flat cap is pulled over her head with her hair tucked inside. Dressed like a boy and walking with a swagger, Will has to check twice it is actually her and not some strange bloke.
‘’Ere! You two. Wot you doin’ there?’
Will’s heart sinks. The policeman is beckoning them over.
‘Come ’ere,’ he says, frowning.
Will and Anna exchange nervous glances and realise they are still holding hands while Anna is dressed as a young man. Anna’s grip on Will’s hand loosens.
‘Wot’s keepin’ ya?’ says the copper.
They make their way toward him, Will steadies his breathing and smiles warmly. ‘Sorry constable, we were a little distracted.’
‘What do you mean distracted? What you doing hanging about ’ere, holding hands like that? It ain’t right!’
‘I’m sorry, officer, we were…’
‘Where’s your gas masks?’ he says, interrupting him.
‘We lost them,’ says Will.
‘You lost ’em!’ said the policeman, his voice rising in pitch.
‘No, we didn’t, Tommy,’ says Anna. ‘We left them at home, remember?’
Will glances at Anna, her eyebrows arch as she looks at him.
‘Oh yes,’ he says realising the ruse. ‘We left them at home and we are just going back to get them now just in case a gas bomb explodes and…’
The officer points at Will’s blazer pocket. ‘You forgot your gas masks but not those. Wot’s in your pockets, then?’
‘Just a book and… erm… nothing important.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ says the policeman, holding out his hand.
For a moment Will thinks to run but they would never make it across the rubble, not the two of them. He hands across the notebook and astrolabe and considers how to knock the policeman out without attracting attention.
The policeman leafs through the notebook and glances suspiciously at Will and Anna. He then examines the astrolabe. ‘Wot’s this then?’ he says, holding it up.
‘Erm… It’s for a project I’m working on,’ says Will.
‘What sort of project?’ says the policeman, studying the astrolabe with interest. ‘It looks old, as if it should be in a museum.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ says Will, with a nervous laugh. His hand curls into a fist and at that same time he hears sniffing. He turns to see Anna holding her cap in her hands, head bowed, shoulders shaking.
‘Blimey,’ says the policeman, ‘he’s a girl!’
The policeman looks at Will, his eyes wide.
Will shrugs.
‘Wot’s the matter?’
‘We’re on our way to hospital to visit my grandfather,’ says Anna. ‘His street was all but destroyed in the air raid. He was one of the few survivors, but they don’t reckon he has all that long… to go.’ Anna starts sobbing, takes out a handkerchief and wipes real tears from her eyes. Will puts his arms around her shoulders and wonders how she can do that.
‘Oh my word,’ says the policeman, handing the astrolabe and notebook back. ‘You should have said sooner.’
The policeman’s gaze lingers on Will for a little longer than is comfortable. ‘Do I know you?’ he asks, with a frown.
‘No, sir, I don’t believe we have met.’ Will looks away and tries to sound as polite as he can. ‘We should really get going.’
‘Yes, you two lovebirds get off to the hospital and see the old fella.’
Lovebirds?
Will smiles and notices Anna blushing. Will pretends he did not hear what the policeman said.
They thank him and then hurry off across the rubble, but Will can still feel him watching them. His face is obviously still familiar from the newspapers. Could the police still be looking for him? He doesn’t want to think about it. They were lucky to get past this copper who has clearly not been paying attention to the papers. They may not be so lucky next time.
‘We need to find a telephone box. Aunty gave me the Baker Street code.’
Anna seems quiet and he wonders if the lovebirds comment has bothered her. Without saying much they search the streets and eventually find a phonebox on Charing Cross Road.
Will drops the remaining pennies into the slot and dials the operator.
‘Operator, how may I help you?’
‘Baker Street 0764’
‘Putting you through.’
The phone rings for a few moments and is answered by a man’s voice. ‘Hello.’
Will hesitates before answering. The voice seems familiar, but he cannot
be certain. He glances at Anna who is scanning the area, checking they are not being watched.
‘The safe house has been compromised. Aunty is dead.’
There is silence for a moment.
‘Who is this?’
‘My name is Will Starling. I’m with Anna Wilder. We are agents from Beaulieu. We need to come in.’
‘Where are you, Will?’
‘Charing Cross Road.’
‘Find somewhere quiet and out of the way. I will come and find you.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Dalton.’
The name echoes at the back of his mind and niggles.
‘Where can I find you, Will?’
Will sweeps his hand through hair, thinking, and then remembers the perfect place. ‘Fenchurch Street. There is a disused bus repair yard. You can find us there.’
‘Good. Stay out sight and I will find you.’
Will places the receiver down and frowns. Dalton. Why does that name sound familiar?
Chapter 33
Fire and Brimstone
They make their way to Fenchurch Street, then up the alley and stand at the tall wooden doors, the entrance to the yard. There is no one around and it is strangely quiet. The hatch is ajar, which seems odd.
Will pushes it open.
The place looks just the same as when he left it, with the old bus, home for Kitty and her gang, and the makeshift table, covered in the previous night’s haul of food. It is deathly quiet. Will feels a fluttering in his stomach. There is no one here.
‘Hello!’ he calls, his voice echoes unanswered.
Anna walks ahead of him, ‘Hello!’
But there is no response.
And then Will hears a yelp from inside the bus. He holds his breath and looks at Anna, who returns his gaze. Something is wrong. They both know it.
They walk towards the bus and Will pulls the red velvet curtain across. Inside the cushions are torn and strewn across the floor. He sees a lone shoe amongst them, then the person it belongs to lying flat out on the floor, eyes closed and nose bloody. It is the freckled boy with the machete, which he still grips firmly in his hand. His chest is moving – he is still alive.
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