by Tim Jopling
Lorna Reed studied the two men and kept her eyes on the attractive Carter for a moment before focussing on the other. ‘That’s right. I work for London Underground, specialising in station development. I was told you need access to this one. May I ask why?’ She motioned to the building beside her.
‘We’re limited in what we can tell you Miss Reed but we need to gain access to this station and look around. Is that ok?’ Olsen studied her expression. If she was nervous as to why they needed access, she didn’t show it.
Reed smiled. ‘No, it’s not a problem. This station is still fully accessible.’
‘What can you tell us about it, Miss Reed?’ Carter asked.
The young woman flicked away several strands of her flame coloured hair and smiled at the striking features of the dark skinned Government agent. ‘Well, this station was closed in the 1930’s due to lack of use. Later on though, during World War II, it was used as a meeting place to several important war committees including Winston Churchill’s War cabinet, as well as other organisations later on.’ she said proudly.
Carter gave the building another look, feeling more impressed. ‘Really? Have all these abandoned stations got such an interesting history?’
Olsen gave his friend a look of ‘not now!’ knowing his interest in history and conspiracies.
‘Well, that depends. Most of them have something of interest to talk about.’ For the first time Reed had a look of puzzlement. ‘What’s all this about anyway?’
Olsen stepped in. ‘Believe me, it would take too long to explain. Would it be easy for the general public to gain access to the lower level tunnels?’
‘The public? Why would they want to gain access to the tunnels?’ She looked at Olsen who gave nothing away. ‘The entrance is locked and there is quite a bit of security so no, I don’t think they could get down there.’
‘Right.’ Olsen didn’t feel entirely convinced but gestured at the entrance. ‘Mind if we make a start?’
Lorna Reed pulled out a bunch of keys and began to unlock the entrance door of Down Street station. She struggled with the lock but heard the click and pulled open the door, reaching around the side to turn on the lights.
Olsen struggled to keep his footing as a massive draft of air came up from below, sweeping past him and his deputy. Finding the detailed map in his pocket, he took a step inside. A narrow straight staircase could be seen in front of him. ‘According to the map there should be a spiral staircase further down.’
‘That’s right. The spiral staircase is brand new so it’s quite safe.’
Olsen looked confused. ‘Brand new? But this is a disused station. Why put in a brand new staircase?’
‘Well, Down Street is one of the designated emergency exit points for the Piccadilly line so the stairways and corridors leading to the platforms are fairly well lit and they need to be maintained.’ Reed took a small torch out of her briefcase. ‘I’d be happy to show you the-’
Olsen put a hand on the torch. ‘That’s ok, Miss Reed. It’s probably better if you stay here. We have detailed maps, so we’ll take a good look around and meet you back here. Ok?’ He gave the woman a reassuring look. ‘Stay here. When we return, I’ll explain things a little more. I have a feeling we’re going to need more help from you.’ Olsen looked over to the door to the right. ‘Is there power to the rest of the station?’
Reed handed over the bunch of keys. ‘There is minimal power to the rest of the station.’ She shuffled her feet with a worried look on her face. ‘So, I’ll just stay here then?’
‘That’s it. We won’t be long we just need to be sure of something.’ He gave a nod to Carter and both men moved past, walked down several stairs and closed the wooden door. Olsen listened to the eerie noises that appeared to be coming from below. The sound of a train passing through the tunnels made him jump slightly.
Both men attached a torch to their left wrists and cocked their weapons. The two men slowly walked down the narrow staircase. No paint was visible on the walls and the surroundings appeared to have a rotting cement look about them. The air was musty, with only a few lights preventing the closed in space being one of complete darkness.
Olsen reached the bottom of the staircase and kicked open a heavy wooden door. Ahead of him was a black spiral staircase that did indeed look brand new and completely out of place. On the walls were the maroon and cream tiles that gave evidence of older station design.
Peering over the edge of the staircase, he looked down. The bottom could just about be seen, with no movement or sounds attracting attention. He led the way down, clutching his Beretta. The feeling of the cold steel in his hand reassured him, as he expected trouble to appear at any moment. Puddles of water were on every stair. ‘I wonder if Miss Reed knows they have a leaky roof in this place.’
Carter held his Heckler and Koch pistol out in front of him and slowly followed his superior. ‘I just hope we don’t have company down there.’
Olsen managed a smile of sorts. ‘Relax Dan.’ He came to a platform, two thirds down the staircase. A red door was standing ahead of him with a decaying sign over the doorframe that read ‘TO OFFICES’
‘What offices?’
‘Must be what they used in the war or something. Stay here.’ Pulling the door open quickly, he flashed as much light as he could into the claustrophobic space and then made sure the two areas were empty. One of them was the remains of a bathroom. Olsen ignored the stench and re-joined his friend back on the staircase.
‘Let’s keep moving, this place is unsettling.’ Said Carter, who kept his weapon out in front of him at all times.
Olsen took the lead and upon reaching the bottom of the staircase, heard the buzz of the lighting system, the only sound in the otherwise total silence. He gave a serious look and counted down to Carter as both men rushed out on cue into the large tunnelled corridor, weapons at the ready.
The tunnel had cabling running along the sides and the ceiling and several lights were dotted along the way. Parts of the wall were a darkish cream colour, covered with several layers of dust and the rest was an ugly black, covered with grime. A sign that read ‘ENQUIRIES & COMMITTEE ROOM’ with an arrow pointing to the right could be seen on the wall, slowly faded with time.
Olsen took in the scene and listened hard. The loud noise of a passing train could be heard bellowing through a tunnel. He had been in many active Underground stations before but had never heard a passing train sound as loud as the one that rumbled away nearby.
Both men jogged down the tunnel and turned the corner. A large sign was hanging on the wall to the left. ‘COMMITTEE AREA’ Olsen walked along the corridor and noted that several wall partitions had been removed. Large chunks of brickwork still stood where they had originally been.
‘Strange to think Churchill was down here. Must have been some pretty important decisions made in this area.’ Spoke Carter.
Olsen came to a staircase that led off from the main area. He angled the torch up the stairs and saw it led to a bricked up wall. He spun around as a sound could be heard coming from the direction they had come. It sounds like a woman’s laugh! ‘Did you hear that?’
Carter was crouched down with his pistol aimed back towards the area they had just left. ‘You bet I heard it! Sounded like a woman!’
Both men sprinted down the tunnel and came back to the exit of the spiral staircase. The team leader whispered to his friend. ‘On three! One…two…three!’
Both agents threw themselves around the corner and onto the staircase, aiming their pistols in all directions.
A few seconds passed before Olsen spoke. ‘Nothing. I’m beginning to agree with you Dan, it’s a bit unsettling down here.’
Carter turned around and looked at his friend. ‘A bit? If we get out of here, I’m going to start taking buses instead of the Underground.’
Olsen rolled his eyes in mock amusement. ‘Let’s just get back to our position and keep moving. It was nothing I’m sure.’ He led the way into the
next room that branched off the main tunnel. It housed several switches and dials, together with the remains of the electrical generator. The entire room had been painted in grey paint. ‘Even the light bulb is painted grey. What the hell is that about?’ Not for the first time, the team leader wheeled around and heard footsteps further down the tunnelled area. ‘Move it, Dan!’
Both men sprinted down the tunnel and saw a shadow move off to the left. Olsen stopped at the edge of the wall and slowly came around with his Beretta aimed in front of him.
The wall was curved and covered in grey paint. It split off in two directions. A sign on the left side read ‘WEST PLATFORM’, whereas on the right, a sign read ‘EAST PLATFORM’. Silence filled the entire area, together with total darkness. No power cables were present on the grime covered walls, the air thick with dust.
Olsen flashed light in both directions, pointed his pistol towards the South platform and watched Carter move off on his own.
Walking down the West platform, he could feel his heart beat faster with each step as he flashed light on as much of the winding corridor as he could. Light streamed across the dirt-covered walls, some sporting parts of the original station name. For the first time, he visualised all the layers of concrete above him that led back to civilisation and forced back the feeling of being trapped. His Beretta pistol jumped up and broke his train of thought as a sound ahead broke the eerie silence. Sounds like some of the tiles hitting the floor! Slowly, he walked further into the darkness, his breathing now out of control as he awaited the individual who had previously escaped them. His feet shuffled along further but came to a bricked up area, with a small trickle of water dropping onto several broken tiles on the floor. Olsen let out a heavy breath of relief and flashed some light on the sign above. ‘TO WEST PLATFORM’. The bricked up area was completely sealed, so Olsen turned around and began to walk down the curving corridor once more.
Olsen stopped in his tracks and his dark brown eyes grew wide with shock as the sound of gunfire filled every aspect of the darkness. It had come from further down the corridor. ‘DAN!’
Chapter 9
Thursday, July 26th 20:00,
Down Street Underground Station (Abandoned),
Central London.
Olsen sprinted along the curved corridor as best he could; passing the sign that read ‘SOUTH PLATFORM’. Be alive, Dan. Concentrating on that one thought maintained his focus. Carter was by far his closest friend at MI6. They had worked together for several years and had always come out of tight spots before.
Olsen reached the end of the corridor and knelt down with his Beretta pistol at the ready. The noise of dripping water could be heard some distance away but that was drowned out by the sound of a train passing through. He moved his torch slowly across the tunnelled corridor but stopped as he saw Carter crouched down behind a pillar.
Carter saw his colleague rush over to him. ‘I’m ok. There is definitely someone here. He fired a shot at me. I gave chase, got him pinned down around this corner.’ He showed a map to his colleague. ‘According to this, around the corner is a staircase and then a bricked up wall. He’s trapped.’
Olsen managed a smile and moved past his friend to the edge of the wall. ‘Whoever you are, there’s no way out of here, you hear me?’ He heard nothing in reply and listened hard to pick up any sounds at all. In his back pocket, he found a spare Maglite, turned it on and rolled it to the other side of the wall in front of him, to provide light for when he did turn the corner. Within seconds, a gunshot blasted the torch into tiny pieces. ‘No way out of here!’ He shouted.
Around the corner, away from the S.U.C.O. protectors, a loyal follower of Jozef Kiprich stayed in his position, aiming his Heckler and Koch rifle. He stepped over the decaying brickwork and pulled the trigger. Several bullets flew out of the chamber and sprayed the walls at the top of the staircase ahead of him. He used the time available to him and hurriedly attached a small amount of plastic explosive to the crumbling wall behind him.
Olsen leaned back and looked at the ever-increasing water flow that was coming from the roof above. The last wave of machine gun fire had forced several more tiles to become dislodged. He turned to his partner. ‘We can’t stay here for much longer.’
Carter, whose face was covered in sweat, replied positively. ‘No arguments here.’
Before either of the two agents could begin to think of an escape route, they were both forced back onto the dirty floor as a small explosion rocked the already unstable structure. Several more tiles dropped on them from the surrounding walls and more water began to flood into the tunnel.
‘Damn it!’ Olsen quickly flashed his head around the corner and then back as bullet fire sparked off the tiled walls. ‘He just blasted his way through the bricked up wall!’ The team leader looked up in panic as a large piece of piping dropped down from the ceiling just a few feet away and gushes of water splashed down on both men.
Carter grabbed hold of his friend, who was almost swept away in the wave. ‘Stay with me! Is it safe to move?’ he shouted, over the deafening noise levels.
Olsen struggled to stay on his feet and glanced around the corner again. There was a gaping hole in the wall and no sign of anyone. ‘LET’S GO!’
On the abandoned platform, both men gingerly moved forward and then dove for cover as sparks flashed all around them.
Olsen was the first to recover and rolled over into an aggressive position, firing several rounds from his Beretta. When the gunfire stopped, he aimed the beam of his Maglite in that direction and saw another tunnel ahead, looming in the darkness. ‘If we hurry, we might be able to catch up with him!’
Carter fumbled with his map. ‘We don’t even know where this goes!’
Olsen remembered a sign he had seen in the previous corridor. ‘Leads to the next station on the tube network I think. He probably has a car waiting for him.’
The two Government agents sprinted down the abandoned platform, into total darkness.
Deane fluffed his dark blue jacket and felt hot and sweaty, not to mention fatigued. Even blinking seemed to be an effort. As he passed through the crowd, he took a moment to put a hand against the towering statue of St Nicholas I, which was in the very centre of St Isaac’s Square.
Erected in 1859, Pyotr Klodt sculpted the Tsar in the uniform of one of Russia’s most prestigious regiments, the Kavalergardskiy guards. By his side were sculptures of his wife and daughters.
The statue, so grand and captivating, would normally hold the attention of any passerby or tourist but today, with so many thousand people packed in around the statue and in St Isaac’s square, not a soul was looking at it.
Instead, all eyes on were Salenko, the man who was hell bent on taking Russia back to its former glory and establishing its world power once again. Constant chants and screams of adoration were made by the crowd but the soon to be next President continued his fiery speech to the joyous crowd.
Deane moved behind a large Russian couple and observed Salenko in the flesh for the first time. On first impression, the soon-to-be-dead Presidential candidate appeared a strong character and certainly looked to be putting his heart and soul into his performance.
Salenko stood on the platform and pumped his fist vigorously as he came to a crucial point in his rally. ‘We have become a weak nation, one that is the laughing stock of the world! Vote for me and in time we truly will change the face of the planet and return to our glory days of being the most powerful country in existence!’
Deane joined in the euphoria, clapped, smiled and noted the looks of joy on the people around him. Salenko was doing a good job in convincing his followers and was so far backing his radical claims with a sturdy campaign that was based around revitalising the Russian economy. Scanning the stage in front of him, he counted around twenty security personnel, together with three already in the crowd. A lot more security than usual for a presidential candidate; almost as if they are expecting an attack. He slipped away from his position a
nd eventually moved to the fringes in an attempt to obtain a different viewpoint, making sure to avoid the security officers in the crowd. Deane slumped against a welcome post on the edge of the square, his weary body relaxing as he looked out at the ongoing rally.
Akira stayed in the shadows and kept his eyes on Salenko, feeling a sense of pride that his puppet had become so capable. Making sure he stayed a puppet was foremost in his mind as he continued to think of ways to keep him in –
He is here…I can feel him.
Madeline’s voice, as ever, penetrated his thoughts and came with such clarity. Straight away, his eyes scanned the crowd ahead with frantic pace. It could only be one man…
Don’t fail me again, please…don’t…
Madeline’s voice faded away but Akira didn’t worry. His own thoughts were gaining pace and his eyes locked onto one man in the crowd. Of all the people they could send…Thomas Deane, how typical. From his position in the background on the stage, his stare didn’t budge from the unwelcome visitor he had locked onto just moments before. There could be no doubt about it, another so-called legend was in the vicinity and was here to put a stop to his dream. Akira hadn’t expected to see any assassins for some days but knew if anyone from MI6 would come it would be the ever-loyal Deane. His eyes flicked away and scanned the crowd with ruthless efficiency, looking for the younger partner he had seen in Oman the last time their paths had crossed. There was no sign of him; could Deane be in Russia alone? Akira didn’t think so, nor would he be the only Western agent either. He considered stopping the rally but Deane didn’t appear to be doing anything other than gaining a first impression.
Akira locked onto the MI6 agent again and felt the hatred flow through him. First Marraud, now Deane; this time won’t be like Oman. You won’t have any partners to save you this time. His thoughts stayed strong and frantic but in the background, he could hear Madeline pleading still and a vicious look of gritty determination swept over his features. His voice turned icy cold as he locked onto his enemy once more. ‘Never.’