Going Underground

by Denison, L. N

  No sooner had Myron entered Charing Cross underground station than his senses kicked into overdrive. Myron found himself silently running towards the nearest crevice at the slightest breeze through the tunnels, or the least little noise, even though the patrols no longer entered the underground network, after the culling of so many citizens over the past two years.

  Myron had reached the tunnel network, but the silhouette of a figure stopped him from going any further. He slid back behind the wall he had just brushed past, hoping that whoever it was would depart quickly and leave him free to find Gerick Meyer. Instead of heading away from Myron, the sound of tired feet dragging across the uneven ground was becoming louder. Myron’s heart began to skip a beat as the owner of the feet gained on him, but Myron couldn’t move away from the wall to confront the impending threat.

  The dragging seemed to suddenly stop, which gave Myron a renewed sense of fear. Glancing down, he realised with alarm that his own right foot was in view; he pulled it back in line with the rest of his body.

  ‘Who’s there?’ stammered a petrified-sounding voice, which Myron instantly recognised.

  ‘Gerick … is that you?’ came his reply from behind the wall.

  ‘Myron? Oh, thank God!’ exclaimed a relieved Gerick. ‘I thought it would take a lifetime to find you.’

  Myron was equally relieved as he rushed to greet his friend. ‘What a brilliant turn of events!’ he gushed. ‘I was just heading out to find you.’

  ‘I’m glad you did,’ Gerick panted. ‘I’m dead on my feet.’

  Myron placed his arm across Gerick’s shoulders and pulled him closer. ‘Come on, let’s go back to the bar, I need to discuss something with you,’ Myron whispered in Gerick’s ear.

  *

  Ryker’s was how Myron had left it: a mess of collapsed bodies in the wake of an alcohol-fuelled night. Jonah stared at Myron as he and Gerick traipsed through his bar without a care in the world, as though they hadn’t just completed the most hazardous journey at the peek of curfew to get back there.

  ‘Where the hell have you been, and who the hell is this?’ Jonah demanded gruffly.

  Myron and Gerick carried on with their conversation, treating Jonah as a non-entity, which angered him even further.

  ‘Oi! Don’t bloody well ignore me—I asked you a question!’ Jonah shouted.

  The ferocity of his outburst awoke the majority of the drunken patrons, and Myron had no choice but to pay heed. He turned to face Jonah, and began to walk back toward the bar with Gerick following directly behind him.

  ‘Jonah, this man is going to be the means to the government’s end,’ Myron declared. ‘He knows where Howard’s weaponry hoard is, and he is going to show us!’

  ‘Gerick Meyer, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ Gerick extended a hand of friendship to Jonah, which he gladly took.

  ‘I’ve heard a lot about you, Gerick, the pleasure’s all mine,’ Jonah replied.

  Myron grabbed Gerick by the arm and began to lead him toward the back room.

  ‘Sorry, Jonah!’ the youth called over his shoulder. ‘We have to go, we have work to do.’

  Gerick followed Myron into the back room, shutting the door gently behind him.

  Gerick’s voice was hoarse with desperation as he explained his situation, and what would happen if he were caught. What Jen had suffered at the hands of Besson was nothing compared to what Gerick would endure. He would torment him with the fact that he had access to his wife, and could do anything he wanted with her because Gerick was too terrified to make a move against him.

  ‘If I am to help you, I’ll need your help to get my wife and daughter away from Besson,’ Gerick concluded. ‘Can you agree to that?’

  Myron had listened to Gerick’s plight with an open mind.

  ‘Gerick, say no more on the subject,’ he said reassuringly. ‘Our first priority will be to get your family to safety, and then we can concentrate on getting the weapons away from John Howard.’

  Gerick took hold of Myron’s hand and began shake it vigorously. Myron quickly pulled it away before the overly grateful man succeeded in pulling it off.

  ‘Thank me when we have your family here. For now, I want you to stay here and think up a strategy to get those weapons out of the Parliament buildings.’

  Myron promptly left the back room, leaving Gerick with his thoughts and a sense of great relief.

  Myron glanced briefly at Jonah as he walked across the bar floor toward Jen and the others, wearing a fiery, cocksure look that said the youth was primed for action. Jonah knew this look all too well, and he knew better than to try and talk Myron out of doing anything rash. Experience had taught him that whatever he said would fall on deaf ears.

  Jen and the others seemed to be in deep discussion about something, but that suddenly stopped upon Myron’s approach. Myron grew suspicious of the sudden silence.

  ‘Myron, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be doing your master planner thing?’ Jen asked bluntly.

  Myron knew that something was amiss from the tone of her voice.

  ‘What’s wrong with you, Jen? Why so secretive?’ he fired back.

  Jen walked away from the others and took hold of Myron’s arm, pulling them out of earshot.

  ‘What the hell is he doing here?’ she hissed. ‘If it wasn’t for his kind, we wouldn’t be doing what we’re doing.’

  Myron wasn’t sure where that comment had come from. Why is Jen suddenly harbouring a grudge towards a man who has been an instrumental ally in the plan?

  ‘Jen, if it hadn’t been for Gerick, you wouldn’t be standing here right now! You would be lying in a pine box six feet under in the forest somewhere! Don’t you dare start turning against him out of peer pressure!’

  Myron was blunt and to the point, and waiting for Jen’s standard reaction, but the reaction he received was not the one he expected.

  ‘You’re right, of course,’ she muttered, greatly subdued. ‘I acted like a right prat. Forgive me?’

  ‘OK, who are you, and what have you done with Jen?’ Myron jested, amused by Jen’s transformation in spite of himself.

  ‘Look, I know that you have been hurt in all this, but don’t blame Gerick, please. He may work for the enemy, but he doesn’t like it. That’s why he has bent over backwards to help us. Try not to give him a hard time.’

  ‘I won’t, but don’t expect me to fall in love with the little twit overnight,’ grumped Jen, returning to her old self as she rejoined the others.

  Myron smiled. ‘Now that’s the Jen I know!’

  *

  Gerick was apprehensive about entering the Parliament buildings again, but Myron and his team had all assured him that he would be safe under their protection. It still made him feel uneasy to know that he was officially on his employer’s list of people to arrest, and he didn’t relish the idea of spending time in the medical wing. He had a harrowing flashback to the first time that he had set eyes on Jen, on the day of her rescue. In no way did he want to end up in that condition.

  They had made it to the vent that led to Gerick’s office, and Myron made the decision for Gerick to stay behind in the network while they retrieved his family.

  ‘You stay here, Gerick. Where are your quarters? Would your wife and daughter be there?’ Myron asked with some urgency.

  ‘I don’t know where they would have been placed, but my quarters are on the edge of the medical wing a few doors down from my lab,’ Gerick replied anxiously.

  ‘We’ll start there anyway.’

  Gerick watched as Myron and the others climbed through the grate, and out of sight.

  Gerick’s office was dark, uninviting, and eerily silent. Myron cautiously pulled himself to his feet and desperately tried to navigate his way through the stark blackness without disturbing anything, or arousing the suspicions of the guards on duty. Of course, there was ample security in the vicinity; Besson had ordered extra guards on the off chance that Gerick dare show his face again, thus quashin
g any hopes Myron might have had of this being a quick in-and-out operation.

  With just as much caution, the others followed Myron toward the laboratory. Myron paused, pondering the issue of how he was going tackle exiting from that point. Lonny walked up to the door, using the small crack of light that shone underneath the sill to guide him. He pressed his ear against it to detect whether or not the guards were close. The walls were paper-thin in places through structural weakness, making it easier to hear even the slightest sound. Lonny could make out faint conversation in the background, but couldn’t judge how far away they were from the laboratory door.

  ‘What’s going on, Lonny? Is it safe to move out?’ Myron asked at a whisper.

  Lonny raised his right hand and waved it frantically, still trying to determine how far away the guards were. Myron was becoming frustrated with the wait; all he wanted to do was get in and out without fuss.

  Lonny turned away from the wall, giving a very satisfied Myron the all clear to move them out into the corridor. Myron slowly twisted the handle and gently pulled the door ajar, looking through the crack to check that Lonny was correct in his assumption. Everything seemed to be in order, and Myron gave the signal to move out. There wasn’t far to go from that point—Gerick’s quarters were a little further down the corridor.

  Apart from Gerick, Lawrence was the only other person in Myron’s merry band, with intimate knowledge of the Parliament buildings’ layout.

  ‘Which door is it, Lawrence?’ Myron whispered in his ear.

  Lawrence jabbed a finger at their destination. Stealthily, Myron and his subordinates inched forward. Myron knocked gently on the door, but nobody answered. Louise Meyer was fast asleep and hadn’t heard the rapping. Her mother, Jane, remained hidden around the corner, waiting patiently for Myron and the others to move away.

  ‘Mrs. Meyer, are you there? We need to talk to you about your husband!’ Myron cried in a desperate whisper. ‘We have come to take you out of here—to take you to your husband, who is safe and well.’

  Jane made her presence known at that point, peering around the corner tentatively.

  ‘Who are you?’ she demanded, her eyes darting from Myron to the others and back. ‘Where’s my husband?’

  Jane hadn’t moved any further from the corner, as she eagerly awaited his reply.

  ‘I’m Myron Cutter, ma’am. Your husband has been working very closely with us for over a year. He thought you might be in danger, and requested that we come and get you and your daughter out of here before anything dire happens.’

  A single thought raced through Jane’s mind: there was only one person she had to worry about, and that was Myron himself. She had no qualms about turning around, going back to Besson’s room and blowing the whistle.

  ‘Wait here for a moment, please, I need to go and collect something from the laundry room,’ she said breathlessly. Before Myron could protest, she had disappeared back around the corner.

  Myron despised hanging around conspicuously, but Gerick would be devastated if he didn’t return with his family. He had no choice.

  Jane headed straight back to Besson’s room to tell him of Myron’s presence, and his intentions.

  Fresh from the shower, Besson answered her urgent rapping on the door with only a towel wrapped round his waist.

  ‘What is so damned important that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow? I’m tired, and not in the mood for any of your silliness!’ Besson groused.

  ‘I thought you would like to know that my husband has sent someone to take Louise and me out of here—somebody by the name of Myron Cutter.’

  Simon furrowed his brow. ‘Who is he, do you know?’

  ‘No, all I know is that Gerick has been working with him for a long time. He is waiting outside my room now. So what are you going to do about it?’ she demanded impatiently.

  Simon went back into the bathroom to change, leaving Jane to pace around the living room.

  ‘Hurry up, will you!’ she shouted in frustration when he seemed to take longer than necessary.

  Simon stalked out of the bathroom, his face livid. ‘Listen, you pushy bitch, don’t you ever tell me what to do, do you understand me?’ he snarled.

  He grabbed hold of Jane’s arm and marched her towards the front door. ‘Take me to this invader!’ he ordered.

  He opened his front door and pushed Jane out. She was seeing a different side of Besson, one she’d never seen before, and she didn’t like it one bit. He was treating her with the same hatred and contempt as he did his employees within the medical wing.

  Jane led Besson back towards Gerick’s apartment and stopped at the corner, as she had done before.

  ‘They are standing just outside the door,’ Jane whispered.

  Besson pushed her to one side, and peered around the corner. His eyes widened with disbelief: he recognised Myron’s face from their brief encounter in the fortifications, and that of his treacherous ex-employee, Lawrence Parker. He pulled away from the corner and grabbed Jane’s arm again, leading her back to his apartment.

  ‘I am not going to do anything about this now, but you are going to go with them and report everything back to me,’ he hissed.

  ‘And how do you propose I do that?’ she enquired cynically.

  Simon walked over to his desk and removed an object from the right hand drawer. It was a brooch.

  Jane was aghast. ‘What are you doing with my brooch? I’ve been looking everywhere for that.’

  Simon ignored her. He again reached in the drawer and pulled out a small microphone, which he placed on the back of the brooch, and then handed it to her. Jane snatched it away from his grasp angrily and pinned it to her blouse.

  ‘I want you to get as close as you can to them for this to work. Do you understand?’ said Simon as if he were scolding a child. ‘Now, go back to your apartment and do what is necessary.’

  Myron looked at his battered watch anxiously, forgetting for one moment that it had stopped. He grunted and placed it back in his pocket just as Jane reappeared. Myron looked puzzled.

  ‘I thought you had to collect something from the laundry room?’ he questioned.

  Jane started fiddling with the brooch on her lapel. ‘Yes, I had left my brooch behind. I can’t go anywhere without it. It was my mother’s,’ she replied, coming up with a convincing lie.

  She walked slowly up to the door to her quarters, looking at Myron out of the corner of her eye as she turned the key in the lock.

  ‘Give me five minutes, and don’t worry about the guards—they won’t be round here again for at least half an hour.’ she assured them and hurried inside.

  Jane busied herself with getting her headstrong four-year-old organised for leaving. Only twenty minutes remained before the guards started their rounds of the facility again.

  ‘Come on! Get up, will you, we need to get out of here!’ Jane hissed anxiously in Louise’s ear.

  ‘Leave me alone! I don’t want to go anywhere!’ Louise bellowed.

  ‘I can’t leave you here, Louise, now get up!’ Jane swatted her daughter’s backside for emphasis.

  ‘Ow!’ Louise yelled. She remained in a funky mood as she rose from her bed, rubbing her eyes with her chubby fists.

  ‘Gather some clothes, quickly! I’ll get you a bag.’

  Jane came back shortly with one black bin sack.

  ‘Put your things in here!’

  Louise grabbed the bag from her mother and ferociously shoved a few clothes into it.

  ‘Come on, will you!’ Jane shouted from the hallway.

  Louise ran out of her bedroom into the hallway and towards the front door, disregarding her mother as she did so. Jane scurried after Louise and grabbed her arm.

  ‘Just behave yourself, we have a long journey ahead!’ Jane barked.

  When Jane’s back was turned, Louise stuck out her tongue.

  *

  Jane had kept a constant eye on Louise and her surroundings, trying to memorise the journey back to Myr
on and the others’ lair. She fiddled with the brooch with every step. When the time came for her to report back to Besson, she would know exactly where to lead him. It would disrupt any further plans that The Independent Mind had in the offing.

  Myron had watched Jane closely, and the incessant fiddling had sounded alarm bells in his mind as to whether she was honest or not. Paranoia was a normal thing for Myron with people he didn’t know well, let alone trust. Myron’s curiosity could no longer be contained: he had to know the reason for her nervousness. He took Jane discreetly to one side, away from her daughter, for the briefest of moments.

  ‘Why are you so on edge, Mrs. Meyer?’ he enquired, his tone menacing and direct. ‘I have been watching you since we hit the tunnel network, and you have done nothing but fiddle with that bloody brooch. Would you care to share your concerns with me in private, or do we have to go through the rigmarole of interrogation when we reach our destination?’

  Myron’s abruptness unnerved Jane. She had to think of something to tell him, something feasible—and, more to the point, believable—to Myron’s ears.

  ‘You want to know why I’m nervous? Have you seen the time? It has gone past curfew!’ Jane pushed her left wrist into Myron’s face and pointed vigorously at her watch.

  Myron took hold of her wrist in order to focus on the dial. It was eight-thirty. Myron hadn’t realised that it was as late as Jane’s watch indicated.

  Myron was not convinced of Jane’s sincerity. ‘Nah! You’ve adjusted the time, haven’t you! I can’t believe it’s that late!’ He turned to Lonny for confirmation. ‘What’s the time, Lonny?’ he shouted across.

  Lonny tilted his wrist upwards, showing the watch’s face.

  ‘Half eight, just gone,’ was the reply from Lonny.

  Realising that Jane was right, Myron ordered a hasty retreat back to Ryker’s.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  They were back at Ryker’s and Gerick was happily reunited with his wife and daughter. From now on, Myron’s main objective would be to complete the mission that he had worked so hard to formulate over the past month or so: bringing about the destruction of the Howard regime that had left the inhabitants of the British Isles trembling in fear for so long. It wasn’t as if the Myosin years hadn’t been bad enough with the war and the segregation of the classes, and of course the witch hunts to weed out non-pure bloods, like Jen, and Lonny Campbell. New Year’s Eve was the day that the regime would come tumbling down, if all went as planned.