The Golden City fr-3

by John Twelve Hawks

  The image on the monitor showed that a London taxi had stopped in front of the entrance. A middle-aged woman wearing a rain hat stood on the curb watching a man lift a black suitcase out of the trunk.

  “I recognize them,” Maya said. “When I arrived at the station, they had just left the train with the other passengers.”

  In the next five images, the couple maneuvered the rolling suitcase onto the sidewalk and pushed it into the building.

  “Return to the third image,” Maya said. “No-the one after that.”

  The monitor showed the man using two hands to pull the suitcase onto the curb.

  “See that? It’s heavy because Alice is inside. That’s how they got her out of the train.”

  “We’re fairly sure that she’s still in the building,” Jugger said. “None of the subsequent images show either a child or a large container being removed from the area.”

  “Where’s Nathan Boone?” Maya asked.

  “We hacked into the computer of the woman who handles travel arrangements for the Evergreen Foundation,” Roland said. “Boone traveled to Thailand on a commercial flight six days ago.”

  “Boone wants to question the child,” Maya said. “They’ll keep her alive until he returns to London.”

  “So what are you going to do?” Jugger asked. “Ever since the attack in Berlin, the Tabula have increased their security. Even at night there are at least four armed guards in the Foundation building.”

  “Alice Chen is the only surviving witness to what happened at New Harmony,” Maya said. “But there is a larger issue. When Gabriel met the Nighthawk, he said that the Resistance is more than just destroying the Vast Machine. We need to believe that each individual life has value and meaning.”

  Jugger nodded. “Sure. I think that’s right.”

  “ Alice ’s life has value and meaning, and that means we’re going to save her. I’ll need your help to break into the Foundation building.”

  “Sounds like you’re talking about Harlequin business,” Jugger said. “We don’t go around fighting people.”

  “I saved your life, Jugger. I pulled you and Roland and your friend Sebastian out of a burning house.”

  “Yes, and we-we appreciate that,” he stammered.

  “You have an obligation.”

  “We’re grateful, Maya. Everybody’s grateful. All I’m saying is that we’re not like you and Linden. I’ll go on the Internet and organize people, paint slogans on walls-things like that. But I’m not going to be part of an attack on a Foundation building. That could bloody well get us killed.”

  The anger she had felt all morning surged through her body and she jumped up from the couch. The heels of her boots clicked across the floor as she approached Jugger and pointed her finger at his face.

  “I just said something. But I guess you didn’t hear me.”

  “I’m-I’m listening.”

  “Good. Because when a Harlequin says ‘you have obligation,’ that does not mean that there’s a choice. I’m not wishing for your help. I’m not hoping for some benevolent impulse. I’m expecting your help now.”

  “Right. No problem. Glad to be helpful.” Jugger was sweating. “But it’s going to be difficult to get into the building with a weapon. After you pass through the door, there’s an L-shaped hallway that leads to the security desk. I’m sure they do a backscatter scan of all their visitors.”

  “If we can’t go in the front door, then we’ll have to break in from the top, the bottom or the sides.”

  “The walls are too thick,” Simon said. “And we would have to gain access to a nearby building.”

  “What about a hot air balloon?” Jugger seemed desperate to offer a solution. “You could float across the Thames and land on the roof.”

  “Underground?” Maya asked Simon.

  “Possibly. This is an old city-like Rome.”

  “Hold it! Wait! I know what you need!” Jugger said. “You need an incredible disguise.”

  “A few months ago, this old lady was at the Hope Pub,” Roland said with a solemn voice.

  Jugger looked annoyed. “We don’t want to hear about some old lady. We’re trying to solve a problem here.”

  “She was handing out pamphlets-about freeing the rivers.”

  “What rivers are you talking about?” Simon asked gently.

  “The lost rivers. The ones that flow under the streets.”

  “So where are they?” Maya asked. “Any underneath Ludgate Circus?”

  Roland shrugged his shoulders. “Can’t tell you that. And I won’t say something that’s not true.”

  “We called her Crazy Nora,” Jugger said. “She had maps…”

  ***

  A quick Internet search gave them an address in Finchley, and a few hours later Maya and Simon were walking past the cricket grounds on Waterfall Road. There appeared to be a great many parks and playing fields in Finchley. Jamaican nannies with phone headsets pushed baby carriages while schoolboys kicked a ball. But the largest space in the neighborhood was taken up by the weeping angels and mausoleums of the Great Northern Cemetery. Maya had a vision of thousands of dead Victorians traveling on a ghost train to this final resting place.

  Simon turned the corner on to Brookdale Street and stopped under a flowering cherry tree. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Just a little tired. That’s all.”

  “You were harsh with Jugger and Roland. Usually, it is better to be gentle with your friends-delicato. The Free Runners want to be helpful, but they are frightened.”

  “I don’t have the time to be diplomatic.”

  “Anger can also waste time,” Simon said. “You have always been like your father, careful and deliberate. But lately-not so much.”

  “I’m worried about Alice Chen. She’s the same age I was when a lot of bad things happened.”

  “Would you like to talk about that?”

  “No.”

  “Is there anything else you would like to talk about? I’m sure it troubles you that Gabriel has crossed over…”

  For a moment, she wanted to break down, embrace her father’s old friend, and tell him about the pregnancy. No tears, she told herself. Tears won’t save Alice or Gabriel or anyone else in this world. As Simon watched, she rearranged her sword carrier and stood a little straighter.

  “I’m alright. Let’s find this woman and see if she has any underground maps.”

  They continued down the street until they reached number fifty one-a two-story brick house that had once displayed grand pretensions. Greek columns created a portico leading to the front door and a Doric façade ran around the edge of the roof. Signs had been placed among the weeds and brambles of what had once been a front lawn. FREE THE RIVERS. Inquire Within.

  Maya and Simon walked up a flagstone pathway and knocked on the door. Almost immediately they heard a woman’s voice coming from a distant part of the house. “I’m here!” The woman kept shouting as she passed through different rooms. “Here! I’m here!”

  Maya glanced at Simon and saw that he was smiling. “Someone dwells within,” he said pleasantly.

  The door was flung open and they faced a small woman in her seventies. Her long gray hair went off in every direction, and she wore a T-shirt that displayed the slogan: Break Your Chains.

  “Good afternoon, madam. I am Dr. Pannelli, and this is my friend, Judith Strand. We were walking to the park and saw your signs. Ms. Strand is curious about your organization. If you are not busy, perhaps you could tell us a bit more.”

  “No!” the woman said with a big smile. “Not busy. Not busy at all. Come in, Mister… I didn’t hear the name.”

  “Dr. Pannelli. And this is my friend, Ms. Strand.”

  They followed the woman into what had once been the front parlor. All the chairs and tables were covered with stacks of pamphlets, books and yellowing newspapers. There were plastic pails filled with smooth river stones and glass jars sealed with red wax and marked with cryptic labels.
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  “Just push away the clutter and find someplace to sit.” The woman took a stack of books off a wicker chair and dumped them onto a folding cot. “I’m Nora Griggs, the Chairwoman and chief recording secretary of Free the Rivers.”

  “An honor to meet you,” Simon said smoothly. “So what exactly does your organization do?”

  “It’s all rather simple, Dr. Pannelli. Free the Rivers describes our vision and our goal. I could have called it ‘Free the London Rivers,’ but once we’re done here, we’ll move on to the rest of the world.”

  “Is the Thames not free?” Simon asked.

  “We’re talking about all the other rivers that used to run through London, like the Westbourne, the Tyburn and the Walbrook. Now they’re covered up with brick and concrete.”

  “And your organization wants to-”

  “Blow up the concrete and let the rivers run free. Imagine a London where pensioners can fish in their neighborhood trout stream. A city where children play and lovers stroll along the banks of a babbling brook.”

  “A charming vision,” Simon said in a soothing voice.

  “It’s more than charming, Dr. Pannelli. A society that frees its rivers can take the first step toward freeing their minds. Children need to realize that rivers don’t follow straight lines.”

  Maya glanced at Simon-this is going nowhere-but he didn’t seem to mind.

  “I work near Ludgate Circus,” he said. “Is there a river in that area?”

  “Yes. The River Fleet. It starts in Hampstead, and then runs beneath Camden Town, Smithfield Market and Ludgate Circus.”

  “And you’re sure it’s still there?” Maya asked.

  “Of course it’s there! You can cover up the rivers, dam them and fill them with rubbish, but they will always fight back. In time, all the skyscrapers and office buildings will fall down, but the rivers will remain.”

  “Brava, Ms. Griggs! This sounds like an outstanding organization.” Simon reached into his coat pocket and took out his wallet. He hesitated and then-very deliberately-put the wallet away. “You speak with such passion and sincerity that it feels indelicate to ask any question.”

  “Be my guest,” Nora said. “Ask away!”

  “Do you have any proof of your statement? Do you have photographs or maps of these rivers.”

  “Maps? I’ve got plenty of those.” Nora pulled out a cardboard box, and everything fell onto the floor. Quickly, she knelt down and began scooping up pamphlets.

  “Do you have a map of the River Fleet? Ms. Strand and I enjoy exploring London. It would be most educational to the follow the course of the Fleet through the city.”

  “The Fleet starts up on Hampstead Heath and empties out of a nasty little drainage pipe beneath Blackfriars Bridge. The rest of the time, it’s underground, flowing beneath our madness and confusion.”

  “I see. But you know where it goes.”

  Nora finished picking up the pamphlets and made a sly smile. “And you would, too-if you become members.”

  Once again, Simon took out his wallet. “Do we pay dues? Sign a petition? What’s the procedure?”

  “Five pounds apiece and you get membership cards, although I might have misplaced the cards.”

  Looking flustered, Nora hurried off into what had once been the dining room and began to rummage through boxes and paper sacks.

  Maya leaned forward spoke quietly to Simon. “Do you believe any of this?”

  “That the River Fleet is still there? There’s no question of that. And ten pounds is a fair price for a good map.”

  “Here we are!” Looking triumphant, Nora Griggs stood in the doorway and waved her treasure. “Membership cards!”

  30

  Wearing a yellow hard hat and a reflector vest with the City of London logo, Maya stood across the street from the Evergreen Foundation building on Limeburner Lane. It was about ten o’clock in the evening and no one was out, but she was wary of the surveillance cameras mounted on the wall over the building’s entrance.

  Roland was halfway down the block searching for a storm drain that emptied rainwater into the Fleet River. According to Nora Grigg’s map, the river was directly below them, flowing in the darkness toward the Thames.

  At night, the Evergreen building looked like a chess board-a grid of lines marking out black or gray squares. Light came from the vertical line of windows marking the emergency staircase and from two curtained windows on the fifth floor. Maybe Alice is being held there, Maya thought. Or maybe some accountant forgot to switch off his desk lamp.

  Roland raised his hand and she hurried down the street to join him. The Free Runner was also wearing a hard hat and reflector vest. He rummaged through a knapsack and pulled out a flashlight attached to thirty feet of nylon fishing line.

  “This drain is the closest we can get to the building. But I can’t promise you that the outflow pipe leads to the river.”

  “Do it anyway. It’s better than nothing.”

  Roland switched on a flashlight with a dark red bulb and lowered it through the grate. “When you walk north, you’ll see green, white, blue and red lights. This red flashlight is the most important one. It means you’re thirty meters from the target.”

  He tied the end of the fishing line to the grate, and they headed down the street to Ludgate Circus. A hundred years ago, this had been a busy square filled with peddlers, but now it was just another sterile intersection with a grid of yellow lines on the pavement. There were plenty of storm drains in the area, and they lowered the blue flashlight through a grate near the lane. Continuing down New Bridge Street, they lowered the white flashlight near the Blackfriars pub and headed for the Thames.

  The fourth flashlight was left in a drain near the Unilever building, a large cream-colored structure with an outer façade that made it look like a Greek temple. Maya knew the building was just another statement of power, but the grand gesture in the classical style was very appealing. And what’s the symbol for my generation? she wondered. A surveillance camera?

  When they reached Blackfriars Bridge, they took a staircase down to Pauls Walk, the pedestrian pathway that ran alongside the river. Blackfriars Railway Bridge was directly overhead, and Maya heard the click and clatter of a train crossing over to Waterloo Station.

  Jugger sat on a bench with a waterproof knapsack that carried her equipment. He finished a conversation on his mobile phone and switched it off. “I just talked to Sebastian. He followed the charwoman back to her flat.”

  “I don’t want her working tonight,” Maya said.

  “No worries. Simon Lumbroso called her and said the building was closed because of a chemical spill. She won’t be coming in.”

  Maya walked over to the parapet wall and gazed out at the city lights reflected on the Thames. In the daytime, the river was simply part of the scenery. Tourists rode to the top of the Millennium Wheel and took snapshots of Westminster. But at night the Thames seemed dark and powerful, passing like a silent force through the flash and bustle of London.

  A steel ladder was bolted to the parapet. It allowed maintenance worker to climb down to a culvert that dribbled water into the Thames. According to Nora Griggs, this outlet was all that remained of the mighty River Fleet.

  Roland and Jugger stood beside her with the gear. During the last few days, they purchased most of her equipment and helped her organize the plan. Both Free Runners were still wary of her anger and Jugger looked tense whenever weapons appeared. After rummaging through his knapsack, Roland pulled out a pair of rubber waders. “Better put these on. You’re going to be walking up a river.”

  A grim-faced jogger ran past them followed by an East Asian couple holding hands. No one seemed surprised that she was pulling on the waders. With their hard hats and vests, Maya and the two Free Runners looked like city employees about to deal with a drainage problem.

  Jugger held up the waterproof knapsack and she slipped it over her shoulders. She adjusted the straps, pulling them tight. When everything was re
ady, she placed the two special shotgun rounds into the outer pocket of the waders.

  “I thought the shotgun was already loaded,” Jugger said.

  “ Linden gave me these. They’re breaching rounds for blowing out a door lock.”

  “Bloody hell…” Jugger looked impressed.

  Roland handed her the bolt cutters, and she clipped them to a ring attached to the waders. “Watch out for sink holes and don’t touch your eyes,” Roland said. “Rats live in the tunnels. If bacteria from their waste enter your body, you might get something called Weil’s disease. It’s difficult to cure.”

  “That’s a pleasant fact. Anything else I need to know?”

  Roland looked embarrassed. “I would like to ask one last question.”

  Because you think I’m going to die, Maya thought. But she nodded to the Yorkshireman. “Go ahead.”

  “You Harlequins say: ‘Damned by the flesh. Saved by the blood.’”

  “That’s right.”

  “So whose flesh and whose blood?”

  “We’re damned because we’re human beings. But we’re willing to sacrifice ourselves for something more important than our own lives.”

  Roland nodded. “Good luck, Maya.”

  “Thank you. You’ve fulfilled your obligation.”

  Both Free Runners relaxed and Jugger made a nervous smile. “It was an honor to help you, Maya. I swear that’s true. During the last few days, Roland and me have felt like Honorary Harlequins.”

  Mother Blessing would have slapped him across the face for that presumptuous statement, but Maya let it to go. If everyone’s life had value and meaning, then she had to respect citizens and drones.

  “Keep your mobiles switched on,” she said. “I’ll call you when I get out of the building.”

  Maya scrambled over the wall and climbed down the ladder to the grate. Using the bolt cutters, she cut off a rusty padlock, pulled open the hinged grate, and stepped into the culvert. Mother Blessing had always insisted that weapons come first. Everything else is second. Maya’s two knives were already strapped to her forearms. Shifting the knapsack, she pulled out her sword and a combat shotgun with a carrying strap. She tied the sword’s scabbard to the side of the pack and slung the shotgun strap around her neck. Finally, she pulled out a high intensity headlamp and touched the switch on the power pack.