The Name of the Star - Maureen Johnson [107]
I didn’t reply.
“There’s no need to deny it,” he said. “I certainly hope you didn’t come down here alone. It would be terribly irresponsible to send you on your own. Whoever’s out there—why don’t you come out and play as well? We’re all friends down here.”
Nothing. Just the dripping noise.
“No?” he called. “Don’t want to? Look around you. Do you see this? This is the old headquarters. A good place for us—the Shades. Scotland Graveyard. Not a hint remains of what went on down here, all the work we did. When the government decides it no longer requires your services, it makes you go away. If you don’t come out of here, do you think you’ll get any recognition for your bravery?”
Still nothing.
“I know this place better than almost anyone. I know all the ways in. I didn’t see anyone come down with you, so I can only assume they are coming through the tunnel from London Bridge.”
He extended his arm to his right, toward one of the yawning openings into the dark.
“The other way in is the way you came, Aurora, right down those stairs. And I watched you. You came alone. Unless there are people on those stairs, waiting to make their entrance. Don’t wait too long, for her sake.”
“Hey!” called a voice from another part of the station. “Jack the Wanker! Over here! I want your autograph!”
Callum stepped out of the darkness of the tunnel, holding out his terminus.
“Ah,” Newman said. “You’re young. Makes sense, I suppose.”
“That’s right,” Callum called. “I’m a kid. Come see my toy.”
“Here’s something I know about your toys,” Newman said. “There are three of them. Are there three of you? I certainly hope so.”
“I don’t need any help,” Callum replied.
“Telephones,” Newman said, stepping closer to Callum. “Very good. We had to carry torches and Walkmans. They even tried to put one in an umbrella. Very cumbersome. The telephone—that’s very good.”
As Newman was turned away, Stephen made a dash from the steps, across the small ticketing room, and threw himself against the wall between the arches, right next to me.
“You seem keen,” Newman said to Callum. “It’s a good thing I have this knife. Which one of us do you think would win in the end? I can slash your throat as fast as you can turn that terminus on me. Should we try it and see?”
He whipped the blade in an arc in front of him and took a few more steps toward Callum, who didn’t move an inch.
“Oh, I like you,” Newman said, approaching Callum. “You’re a brave one.”
“Stop,” Stephen said, pushing me aside and stepping into the doorway.
“Here we go,” Newman said. He didn’t sound at all alarmed. “Two. One more, surely.”
“You can’t take both of us,” Stephen said. “Make a move for one, and the other will get you. You may be a strong ghost, but we’re still stronger.”
“The dead travel fast,” Newman said.
“Not that fast,” Callum said. “Believe me, I can outrun you.”
“He can,” Stephen confirmed.
“Well then,” Newman said, with a smile. “I suppose I’d better give myself up.”
“Just put the knife down,” Stephen said.
“You know . . .” Newman stepped back a bit, toward the twoleveled structure in the middle of the platform. “I did learn something very useful during my time down here—”
And with that, darkness—a darkness so absolute, my eyes had never experienced anything like it. My brain had no idea what to make of it. Now I truly understood where we were. We were deep underground. I had no sense of space, no sense of distance, no perspective at all. I couldn’t have found my way back to the steps. I didn’t have my cell phone on me—that had been taken away when they were tracing the texts.
“The location of the light switch,” he said. “Funny how frightening the dark is.”
His voice bounced around in all directions, off the curved ceiling, off the bricks and the tiles. He could have been thirty yards away, or he could have been next to me. Two tiny points of light appeared—the glow of the phones. After a moment, this was