by Glenn Dakin
Then, by the light of a fungus globe, he noticed something. The right-hand passage was covered with a fine layer of the soot – the ever-present mantle of dust that coated everything in the Furnace. But in the left-hand tunnel, freshly disturbed ash was brushed into little streaks by the telltale passing of crelp tentacles.
‘Someone has been down here,’ Sam told himself. At the next corner, he spotted the clear print of a human foot.
In moments he was at the dungeon door. He pushed his face up to the narrow, barred window and saw Magnus lying down on a stone bed. Sam stared as if the old cemetery keeper were a mirage that might disappear at any moment.
‘Grandad!’ Sam called, as loudly as he dared. ‘It’s me!’
Magnus opened one wary eye.
‘Sam?’ he gasped. ‘Thank heaven you’re all right!’
The old man rose stiffly and walked to the cell door. ‘You have to go!’ he croaked. ‘It’s not safe here!’
Sam looked at his grandfather with exasperation. ‘I know it’s not safe here!’ he said. ‘This place isn’t exactly Battersea Funfair. Theo’s been here too. There’s a plan to get help. I . . . I think he got away –’
Magnus interrupted. ‘It’s more dangerous than you realise! The whole network, and the whole city above, could be in the most terrible peril. Get out – hurrrgh.’ The old man bent over, gasping for breath.
‘But what happened?’ Sam pleaded. ‘Why did Dr Pyre take you away?’
‘This is old business, Sam. You could not possibly understand. A battle that goes back to the very darkest days of our Society, and I’m afraid it could be our final one.’
‘No,’ said Sam. ‘I don’t believe it! We’ve got the Candle Man!’
Magnus’s pale old eyes sparked with emotion. ‘That’s enough!’ he croaked. ‘Go! I order you to go! Try to get away. It is your duty to the Society to stay alive!’
‘Calm down, Grandad!’ Sam begged. ‘I’m not going without you!’
‘But you must,’ Magnus pleaded, suddenly tired. Sam watched helplessly as Magnus walked slowly back to the stone ledge he used as a bed.
‘Go now and save your young lives,’ Magnus sighed as he slumped in the corner. ‘Mine – doesn’t matter any more. Go now or I shall call the guards myself.’
Sam grimaced, hesitated, then headed back down the corridor.
‘We won’t leave you here,’ he called. ‘I promise!’
‘Tomorrow, this city is going to be free,’ proclaimed Lord Gold. He was standing on a platform at the front of a crowd of Orpheus police officers, in one of the subterranean chambers of the old Down Street underground station. He was wearing full Orpheus uniform: black leather jacket, leggings and boots. He looked a true leader of men, with his bright eyes, fair curls and strong jaw.
‘We will be free,’ he continued, calling out in a stirring voice. ‘Free from a menace that lurks in the catacombs under our city. Free from a foe that robs graves and abducts citizens. Free from a menace of unimaginable evil.’
That’s what a real hero is supposed to look like, Theo said to himself. He and Chloe had just been summoned to the gathering from the medical centre. Compared to Lord Gold, Theo felt like a child, looking foolish in a baggy grey T-shirt Chloe had provided and enormous leather gloves, supplied by the police.
‘That menace was a mystery to us until only yesterday,’ Lord Gold said. ‘But now we have learnt its name: Dr Pyre.’
A whisper ran through the crowd. Theo felt his heart beat faster as that name was murmured around him.
‘Two Orpheus agents have successfully spied on the enemy’s activities and brought a full report.’ Here, Lord Gold glanced towards Theo and Chloe. Theo found himself ducking his head and trying to stand behind Chloe in the shadows. She gave him a dig in the ribs with her elbow.
Only the buzzing of the temporary lighting rigs broke the silence as the crowd hung on the Lord Commissioner’s words.
‘Dr Pyre is a nihilist – a madman who hates the world so much he wishes to burn it away and replace it with a black, smouldering pile of ashes. Just as he has done to his own face.
‘Beneath this city, kept secret for many an age, are diabolical alchemical engines, the works of an unknown time. These machines may give Dr Pyre the power to carry out his insane dream. Time, for all of us, is running out. Tomorrow morning, we will begin our assault on this fiend. He seems formidable.’
Lord Gold stopped here and looked out across the crowd. Everyone waited for him to go on.
‘But . . . so are we,’ he said softly.
Theo had been hanging about at the back of the assembly with Chloe. He felt out of place in the imposing ranks of black-suited officers all around him. He hoped he could remain unnoticed in the crowd.
‘Come forward, Theo,’ Lord Gold said suddenly.
Theo looked up helplessly at Chloe. She gently nudged him forwards. The crowds of tall officers parted to make way for the youngster in their midst. As Theo walked up, a murmur spread through the crowd.
Lord Gold nodded and said, ‘Yes, it’s him.’ He beckoned Theo up on to the platform.
‘This is Theo Wickland,’ he said. ‘Known, in certain secretive circles, as the Candle Man.’
Total silence followed these words. Everyone stared up at Theo. In that crowd were people he knew – Chloe, Sergeant Crane, officers who had appeared at Empire Hall. But he couldn’t make out any friendly faces; just a vast sea of shadowy heads and dark eyes, all fixed upon him.
‘Theo has a unique ability,’ Lord Gold explained. ‘Something quite outside the experience of ordinary mortals. Let us call it a Death Touch.’
The crowd seemed to draw in a collective breath. Lord Gold surprised them all with a sudden, reassuring smile.
‘As Lord Commissioner, I have access to restricted files, secrets from the past, about the original Candle Man, a figure who saved London in Victorian times. Theo is the new incarnation of this power. Let me tell you this: with the Candle Man on our side, darkness will never prevail.’
There were one or two spontaneous cheers. Theo saw smiles spread among the crowd. He saw hope flickering on to grim, rugged faces. Despite himself, Theo somehow began to feel taller; new belief grew in him, that he could be the hero that these men needed.
‘Look around at one another now,’ Lord Gold urged the gathered crowd. A hint of pride crept into his solemn tones. ‘You are my elite, chosen squad. Tomorrow you face the unknown, but, when the day is done, we will all meet again, as victors – as heroes who have made this great city safe again. Tonight we all live under a shadow – but tomorrow, we will be free!’
Theo felt his heart swell with hope as the Orpheus officers broke out into a sudden outburst of applause. Rousing cheers filled the air.
This is it, thought Theo. This is what it feels like to be a hero – fighting for what’s right.
Lord Gold put a strong arm on Theo’s shoulders and they both cheered together.
Chapter Twenty-four
Harvesters
At 5.14 a.m. the next morning, Detective Sergeant Cripps of the Orpheus special force led a team of twenty agents into the tunnels below Down Street station.
She took them along the cracked passageways of Level One, down a disused drain to the flooded maze of Level Two, and safely through one of the old Victorian hatchways into the depths of Level Three. Rats scattered at their approach, but nothing larger – or more dangerous – was in evidence.
Already, rumblings could be felt here from deeper below.
Behind her, Sergeant Crane was consulting the official police edition of the network map, a digital version combining ancient charts with radar scanning – to a point that made it almost completely unreadable.
Chloe did not need a map.
‘So far, so good,’ said Crane, somehow managing to look untidy even in the new Orpheus uniform. He had already ripped a cuff on an old iron railing, and his helmet was spattered with drips from the dank ceiling. Chloe found his shabby air r
eassuring. Crane had been a friend to her and Theo in the past; in fact, with this new Project Orpheus he was all that was left of Scotland Yard as she knew it.
‘I’m almost sorry we haven’t seen a crelp yet,’ Crane muttered. ‘After the way they grabbed me and you at the graveyard, I’ve been dying to try out the eradicator.’
With a wry grin he held up a device that resembled a cross between a sub-machine gun and an enormous flashlight. A single red eye gleamed at the end of its dark barrel as if with a life of its own.
‘It will be fried crelp, tonight – if I see any of them,’ he remarked.
Chloe groaned. ‘The new lasers are pretty,’ she conceded, jerking Crane to one side as he almost walked straight into an overhead pipe. ‘But those red lights mark us out as easy targets. Tell the men to power the rads down.’
‘Can’t do it, Chlo’,’ Crane said. ‘Standing orders from Lord Gold: eradicators powered up and ready to rock at all times. The hostile subterraneans are too dangerous to play nice with.’
Chloe scowled. ‘Oh great. So I’m put in charge of this squad, but I can’t use my brains because Goldy has done all the thinking for me already.’
‘Sure has,’ chuckled Crane. ‘That’s why the men love him.’
They reached a circular hatchway, which Crane failed to open. He had to stand back while Chloe struck its central plaque with the tip-tap-tip sequence that activated it.
‘Remember,’ said Chloe, showing Crane a long thin scar running across the back of her hand. ‘I’ve had closer acquaintance with them. We would be better equipped bringing along a Candle Man.’
‘You know the plan,’ Crane replied, walking by Chloe’s side and glancing nervously through the darkness. ‘He has to be protected and saved for the final push. We’re the expendable ones.’
Chloe pulled a face. ‘I haven’t been brought up to think of myself as expendable,’ she said. ‘And I don’t plan to start now.’
Suddenly she held Crane back.
‘Who goes there?’ she called.
‘Persephone!’ hissed a voice from the shadows.
Chloe looked around, and saw a second squad, led by Colonel Fairchild. He was one of Lord Gold’s hand-picked men, immaculate in his black uniform, cool and efficient. Beady, close-set eyes stared out of a rather babyish face. ‘Persephone’ was the code word for the operation, and instantly warned Chloe’s squad not to attack the new arrivals.
The new squad filed into the corridor, doubling the number of agents.
‘Any word from Goldy?’ Chloe asked. Any kind of radio contact was unreliable in the unusual conditions of the network, and old-fashioned word-of-mouth messages were all they could rely on.
Colonel Fairchild looked away. ‘We do not call our great leader “Goldy”,’ he observed humourlessly. ‘His Lordship has made his plans. It’s up to us not to let him down. I’ll take over now,’ he said. ‘According to the map we’re just a few tunnels away from the Well Chamber.’
The whole network was shaken by a dull thunder from below, as if the gods of the underworld were angry.
‘Shouldn’t I guide us?’ Chloe asked, pushing forwards. ‘I was practically born down here. The way ahead doesn’t offer much cover. Why don’t we remain in two teams – half go down the spiral staircase –’
‘Sergeant Cripps!’ Fairchild snapped. ‘We’ll stick to the planned route and you will follow my orders. Forward!’
The tunnel narrowed, forcing the ranks of the Orpheus team to close together. Ahead lay a wide, circular junction, Chloe remembered, that linked with the main canal passage. They were making good time.
‘What’s that?’ Chloe suddenly asked. It seemed to her she could hear a hissing.
‘Stop!’ she called. Her squad halted. Colonel Fairchild’s men ignored her.
‘Pleassse,’ came a faint whisper.
Someone up ahead came to an abrupt halt. A couple of men collided in the darkness and someone fell over.
‘Please to stay still,’ a thin voice requested.
The cold, child-like sound seemed to be heard all around them. Stumbling into Sergeant Crane, Chloe raised a hand to steady herself against the low tunnel ceiling. Then she shivered and stifled a scream. The ceiling was moving.
‘Please staying still,’ came the voice again. ‘So we can destroying of you.’
‘I’m ready to go,’ Theo said.
He was standing at the dark, grimy door of an old London Underground maintenance lift in the depths of Down Street headquarters. Years of filth had been scratched away from the centre of the door and a silver Orpheus Squad emblem stuck there. He looked back at his team, hoping to spot a familiar face – but they were all strangers, grim-faced, their eyes hidden behind shiny visors.
Of all the strange adventures he had faced since escaping from his evil guardian, this felt the loneliest. As the lift door closed his heart sank.
‘Where’s Lord Gold?’ Theo asked one of the men. ‘Can I see him?’
‘That is not possible,’ the man grunted. Theo looked up at the tall, helmeted figure.
‘Where is he?’ Theo asked.
‘He is with us in spirit,’ the man said.
Theo sighed. Of course he couldn’t expect someone like the Lord Commissioner to be part of the mission. Lord Gold would be watching over the whole plan from his command centre in Down Street. Still, Theo felt strangely abandoned.
The lift door opened, and Theo was led out by the tall, silent men. They marched off down the passage, six in front of Theo, six behind. He felt a bit like a prisoner. The men halted at the end of the next passage. The leading officer looked around, as if lost.
‘That’s the way to the Well Chamber –’ Theo began, pointing ahead. He had studied these passages many times on his map. ‘Level Three, Tunnel Twenty. We’re close to Junction Sixteen, by the old fungus houses – where they used to grow luminous mould for the fungus globes.’
The men ignored him. ‘They aren’t here,’ one said.
‘This is not going according to schedule,’ another commented.
‘What’s going on?’ Theo asked.
One of the men looked down at him. ‘We were to link up with Team One at this junction. There’s no sign of them. It might mean they’ve pressed forwards without us.’
It might mean. Theo noticed the uncertainty. ‘Might’ means ‘might-not’, Theo said to himself, remembering one of Mr Nicely’s little sayings.
What else might have happened? He was beginning to learn that when people spoke to one another, they tended to leave the most important bit out.
‘Is Team One Chloe’s team?’ Theo asked anxiously. ‘I mean, Sergeant Cripps.’
One of the men nodded. ‘Something isn’t right,’ he stated simply.
Suddenly footsteps were heard clattering down the passage ahead. The guards formed ranks around Theo, so he could hardly see a thing.
‘What is it? What’s going on?’
A ragged, bleeding figure crashed into the guards and fell back to the ground.
‘Get out!’ he gasped. ‘Get out – save yourselves! They’ve killed everyone! Everyone!’
The guards bent down to take a closer look at the desperate, wounded man.
‘Colonel – Colonel Fairchild?’ someone asked uncertainly.
The ragged Fairchild lurched to his feet.
‘Do as I say, you fools! They’re up – up above us!’
An eerie breathing sound had followed Fairchild down the corridor. The men stared upwards, but saw only blackness.
‘It’s too late!’ Fairchild cried, stumbling into Theo and knocking him over. ‘When – when you look up, it’s already too late!’
Then it happened. From the ceiling they fell, great blots of slime, wrapping stinging tentacles around the heads of the Orpheus squad. One man fired his eradicator laser, only to rip one of his own comrades in two.
‘We can’t blast them!’ screamed one of the men. ‘They’re all over us – they . . .’ His voice was drow
ned out as slime filled his mouth and tendrils gripped his throat.
‘Harvessst,’ hissed a thin, eerie voice.
Theo looked up from the floor where he had fallen. Everywhere, Orpheus men were screaming, covered in the soft, clinging bodies of the crelp.
‘We will harvesting you now,’ the thin voice said. ‘Please to stand still and not killing us back.’
Theo stared at the horrific onslaught, preoccupied with one thought.
What do they mean: harvest?
Chapter Twenty-five
Crimes
‘I don’t like it,’ said Freddie suspiciously. ‘Where have they all gone?’
Sam scoured the length of the ash tunnel, peering into the dark corners for the sight of a crelp tentacle.
‘I don’t know,’ Sam answered.
The harsh tolling of a bell reverberated deafeningly around them.
Freddie looked scared. His face went pale under its speckling of ash, and he clutched tightly on to his rake. ‘What’s Dr Pyre up to now?’ he groaned.
‘I don’t care about him!’ Sam said. ‘I just wish I knew where Theo was.’
‘Shut it!’ came a nasty hiss from behind them. ‘I’ll do the talking now!’ Queasley, the one-eyed Sewer Rat, appeared, a nasty smile on his lips.
‘Here’s the good news,’ he said slyly. ‘Our little friends the crelp have had to go.’
Sam knew the Sewer Rats too well to get his hopes up. ‘Where?’ he asked.
‘To defend the Wonderful Machines,’ Queasley said, his broken teeth showing in an unpleasant smile. ‘Seems there’s a lot of you Surfacers trying to get down here. Police and that. So we’ve gotter set the guard dogs on them.’
Surfacers! Sam and Freddie looked at each other. That had to mean that help was on its way.
‘So here’s the bad news,’ Hollister growled, looming up behind them. ‘We haven’t got our little pets to guard you surface scum now, so, step this way . . .’
Queasley pointed along the passage, and Hollister gave Sam a nasty shove. They were led down to the dungeon level that Sam had so recently visited.
Sam’s heart beat quickly. For a moment he expected to be locked away with his grandfather, but at the fork in the passages below, Hollister turned right instead of left, and threw open the door to a cell there.
