‘James!’ It was Perry. ‘You’re alive! I knew it. But where on earth are you?’ ‘I’m in a pub in the East End,’ said James. ‘Here we were worried stiff about you and all the time you’re down the pub living the life of Reilly,’ said Perry.
James swiftly put him right on that count and told him everything that had happened since they’d split up last night.
In return, Perry told James about the wall painting in College Chapel.
‘Amoras?’ said James. ‘I’ve heard that name before.’
‘It was in Fairburn’s second letter,’ said Perry. ‘You remember? The one in binary code. He said something about how he’d told Charnage the story of Sir Amoras and he’d found it amusing.’
‘But it’s no help at all,’ said James, wearily. ‘What was Fairburn trying to tell us?’
‘M-Maybe he was trying to warn us,’ said Perry, ‘about a knight who’d done a deal with the devil. Sir John Charnage to be precise. And he was right. You’ve had a very lucky escape, James.’
‘There must be more to it than that,’ said James.
‘Well, if there is, we’re stumped,’ said Perry.
‘Where are you now?’ James asked.
‘We’re at the station in Eton,’ said Perry. ‘The London train will be here in five m-minutes, Pritpal’s got to get back to the m-mission, I’ll come and m-meet you in the pub, see if in the m-meantime we can’t figure this thing out, eh?’
‘OK.’
‘Here’s Pritpal,’ said Perry. ‘He wants a word.’
Pritpal came on the line.
‘A parcel arrived for you this morning at the mission, James,’ he said. ‘What should we do with it?
‘Who’s it from?’ asked James.
‘I do not know,’ said Pritpal. ‘It was hand delivered.’ ‘It may be a clue,’ said James. ‘When you get back, open it and see what’s inside.’
‘All right,’ said Pritpal.
James put the phone down and slumped on to a stool at the bar. He felt like death. Dry and sick and exhausted. No matter what he did he couldn’t get warm and he shivered continuously. His head ached and everything seemed fuzzy and distant, as if in a dream. He had a crippling pain in his side and he knew it wasn’t caused by being kicked. It was his poisoned liver. He prayed that it hadn’t been permanently damaged.
He was miserable.
He had been hoping that this new clue might be the final missing piece of the jigsaw puzzle but it had only made matters more confused. It was a dead end, he had nowhere left to go.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Kelly Kelly.
‘Oh, gawd save us,’ said Red, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling.
‘Shut yer gob, Red,’ she snapped. ‘And listen for once.’
‘Why don’t you keep your nose out of this?’ said Red. ‘This is between me and Jimmy-boy.’
‘Look here, Red Kelly,’ said the girl, glaring at her brother, ‘I’m in this now, all right? I nearly killed the bloke, so now I’m going to help him. I’m gonna make it up to him, like. And I don’t need any clever comments from you, because you never was the brightest one in the family.’ She turned to James. ‘What exactly are we looking for?’ she said.
‘A man,’ said James.
‘This Fairburn bloke?’
‘Yes. Charnage has him somewhere.’
‘And he’s built some sort of machine?’ said Kelly.
‘Yes.’
‘And this machine,’ said Kelly, ‘you said it was pretty big?’
‘Peterson said in his letter that it would almost fill a room.’
‘And they’re building it for the Russians?’
‘Yes.’
‘So how are they going to get it out of the country?’ said Kelly.
James grinned. ‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ he said.
‘You haven’t thought of much, have you?’ said Kelly.
‘Leave it alone,’ said Red. ‘You know nothing about this, Kel. You’re just showing off for Jimmy-boy.’
‘You never did like me being cleverer than you, did you, Red?’ said Kelly.
‘Oh yeah? Well if you’re so clever, where’s this machine, then?’
‘It’s on a ship, stupid,’ said Kelly. ‘Has to be.’
‘You don’t know that,’ said Red.
‘No,’ said James. ‘I think she’s right. It fits. How else could they get it to Russia? It has to be on a ship, somewhere, or it’s being loaded on to one. And Charnage can’t leave until it’s ready. That’s why he couldn’t pull out sooner.’
James smiled and suddenly forgot all about his pain.
Thanks to this girl, they had a breakthrough.
At last they were getting somewhere.
22
The Pneumatic Railway
‘The Paradice Club in the old Charnage chemical works is down near the West India Docks,’ said Red. ‘But if they’re sailing to Russia they wouldn’t leave from there. There’s loads of docks in the docklands, and thousands of ships.’
‘Is there someone you know who might be able to help us?’ asked James.
‘Most of the men round here work down the docks,’ said Red and he checked the clock. ‘It’s nearly opening time. Me dad’ll be first in, we can ask him.’
‘If he’s sober,’ said Kelly. ‘Knowing him he’ll still be drunk from lunchtime. But you’ll have to shout, James. He’s half deaf from the Brunner Mond explosion.’
‘From what?’ said James.
‘Brunner Mond,’ said Red.
‘What’s Brunner Mond?’ said James, his heart beating faster.
‘It was a TNT factory,’ said Red, ‘in the war. They made explosives for the army. Tons of the stuff. And then one day, BOOM! The whole lot goes up. Seventy-two people killed, thousands of houses flattened. Biggest-ever explosion in this country. Everyone round here knows about it, but it was during the war when bad news was kept out of the papers.’
‘And where was the factory?’ said James.
‘Silvertown,’ said Red. ‘By the Royal Docks.’
Before Red could say anything else, James threw his arms around him and crushed him in a bear hug.
‘Oi, leave off,’ said Red, pushing him away. ‘What’s got into you?’
‘You’ve done it, Red,’ said James. ‘You’ve solved the last clue.’
‘I have?’
‘I thought it was nonsense. Last night when I was drunk I made the word Brunnermond from a clue, but I thought it was just meaningless gibberish, so I forgot all about it. But it’s the answer. We have to get to the Royal Docks, that must be where the ship is.’
‘Brunner Mond was by the King George the Fifth Dock,’ said Red, ‘but there’s hundreds of ships down there. How will we know which one is Charnage’s.’
‘Ask Dad,’ said Kelly, sourly.
Lou had unlocked the pub doors and a gaggle of men had marched in. Among them was a small, shrivelled man who looked old and worn out, but who James guessed was probably no more than thirty-five. He had a pale, creased face, no front teeth and the watery unfocused eyes of a drunk. When he saw James he put up his hands in a sloppy boxing stance and took a couple of fake swings at him.
‘There’s your man,’ he said and belched beery fumes into James’s face. ‘Let me get you a drink.’
‘We don’t have time, Dad,’ Red shouted.
‘There’s always time for a drink,’ said Red’s father and he laughed.
‘Shut up a minute and listen,’ said Kelly. ‘We need you to think.’
‘Ah, you’re a hard, mean, vicious woman,’ said Mr Kelly. ‘Just like your mam.’
He barged past Kelly and went to the bar where he noisily ordered a beer.
‘He’ll be in a better mood when he’s had a pint,’ said Red.
James went over to the bar. ‘Mister Kelly,’ he said, loudly, ‘I need your help.’
‘Do you now?’ said Mr Kelly, taking a pint off Lou and sipping it.
‘I need to find a ship,
’ said James. ‘It’s at the George the Fifth Dock. It’s due to sail tonight.’
‘What’s it called?’ said Mr Kelly, taking another sip.
‘I don’t know. It may have a Russian name.’
Mr Kelly shook his head. ‘You’re whistling in the wind, son,’ he said.
‘Listen, you drunken old fool,’ said Kelly, taking the beer glass from her father’s hand and putting it down on the counter. ‘You need to think.’
‘Do you know how many ships there are down there, Kelly? There’s Russian ships there, and Chinese and Eskimo ships for all I know. If you don’t have a name, you don’t have a hope.’
‘Callisto?’ said James. ‘Is there a Callisto?’
The man shook his head.
‘Nemesis?’
Again, no.
‘Amoras?’ said James. ‘What about Amoras?’
‘Sure, there’s an Aromas, all right,’ said old man Kelly. ‘Used to be called the Sapphire. She’s sailing on the tide, tonight.’
‘When’s that?’ said Kelly.
‘Eight o’clock.’
‘Where’s she sailing to?’
‘And now just how in the hell am I supposed to know that?’ said Mr Kelly. ‘You ask too many questions, Kel, you talk too much. Just like your mam. Lord love her.’
Red glanced at a clock behind the bar and caught James’s eye. ‘It’s twenty to seven,’ he said. ‘That don’t give us long.’
‘How far is it to the dock?’
‘Five mile,’ said Red. ‘You could maybe make it on foot in an hour if you pushed it. There’s no tubes run down that way, though, an’ the buses and trams won’t be hardly running on a Sunday.’
‘It’s too late, then,’ said James bitterly. He slammed his hand against the wall. ‘I was so close as well.’
‘There is a way,’ said Red, moving away from the bar towards the door.
‘What is it?’ said James, following. ‘Do you have a motor car?’
‘A motor car!’ Red snorted with laughter. ‘A bleeding motor car! Who do you think I am? The man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo? Nobody round here has a motor.’
‘What then?’
‘I’ll show you. I wouldn’t normally even think of it, but this is an emergency.
Come on, we’re going to pay the Bishop a visit.’
As he made a move to leave, his sister put a hand on his arm.
‘You sure about this?’ she said. ‘He’s not one of us.’
‘Not one of us?’ Red scoffed. ‘This is James Bond, we owe him, sis.’
‘But, Red –’
‘Listen, sis, maybe I’m not as clever as you. I can’t pretend I understand half of what’s going on. But Charnage is a villain, I know that much, and this boy here is a hero. I know that much, too. If you don’t know which side you’re on, that’s your look out, but I know which side I’m on.’
‘Yeah, but, Red –’
‘Shut it, Kel. I know what I’m doing.’
The air outside was heavy with soot and smoke from the countless coal fires in the area. It was also chilly and damp and James coughed painfully. In the dark, the crowded streets of east London were even more gloomy and threatening than they had been in the daylight. The guttering gas street lamps threw dim pools of yellow light and everywhere people lurked in the shadows, muttering to each other, waiting, watching, an endless number of them, huddled in black coats, their faces grey and blank.
Now and then there would be a cry from a back alley, the sound of running feet. Once James heard glass smashing, but he didn’t have time to be scared. He had to keep careering onward, because if he did stop he would have to think, and thinking would only show him how hopeless his situation was.
Ten minutes after leaving the pub they arrived at a large white church with a row of tall Greek columns across the front. Beggars and drunks sat on the wide steps waiting for salvation and two men were fighting in the graveyard at one side.
The three of them crossed the road, dodging round a horse and cart, and they ran inside, ignoring the raucous shouts of the men on the steps.
Inside, a service was in progress. The congregation was singing a hymn, a great organ lending a thunderous accompaniment. The interior was stark and bare and there was no heating. James could see the singers’ breath coming out in frosty clouds.
Red put a finger to his lips, and, keeping to the shadows at the edge of the church, he walked briskly towards an opening in the wall beneath a row of tall arched windows, and then led the way down a flight of steps into the vaulted crypt.
The crypt was dark and deserted. James could just make out an altar at one end and a few tombs standing in the murky corners.
‘I’m still not sure about this,’ said Kelly, but Red ignored her. He went over to one of the tombs, which had a vaguely Egyptian look about it, with a pyramid on top supported by four spheres, one at each corner.
The name ‘Charles Bishop’ was carved into the stonework.
Red squeezed behind the tomb where there was a narrow gap. As James joined him he saw that there were two stone panels in the back of the tomb. Red put his fingers to one and tried to slide it sideways, grunting with the effort.
‘Give us a hand, here,’ he said and James helped him. The two of them managed to shift it and it slowly moved along a narrow groove with a grinding sound. Behind the panel was a dark space, and James could see that the tomb was hollow.
A foul, rotting, damp smell came out and James covered his nose and mouth. There was a small shelf fixed to the inside wall of the tomb, and from it Red took the stub of a candle and a box of matches. He lit the candle, which illuminated a staircase dropping steeply down into darkness.
Red climbed through the gap and shuffled down the steps. Once James and Kelly were safely in behind him he told them to close the door and James managed to slide it shut with the help of two handles.
The steps led down some fifteen feet to what appeared to be a sewer. The stink was awful and James didn’t like to look at the stuff floating by in the filthy water. They were in a narrow passage, separated from the main sewer by iron bars. Thick cables snaked along the ground and Red followed them, hunched over in the low passageway. They soon left the sewer behind and after a couple of minutes arrived at a rusted iron door that completely blocked the passage. There was a chipped and faded picture of a skull and crossbones painted on it and yellow lightning flashes.
Red removed a brick in the wall and took out a big home-made key from behind it. There was a clunk as he unlocked the door and then he carefully replaced the key in its hidey-hole.
The door opened easily and the three of them went through.
They were in a small chamber full of cables, which entered from all directions. There was the hum and buzz of electricity and the whole room seemed to be throbbing.
‘Careful what you touch,’ said Red, his voice suddenly loud in the cramped space. He closed the door and went over to a row of junction boxes along one wall. He removed the cover from one of them and James saw that there was a gap behind it where the box should have been.
‘You first,’ Red said to his sister and gave her the candle. She wriggled into the hole and soon disappeared. Red nodded to James and he went after her, crawling on his belly and feeling his way along the tunnel with his hands. He heard Red close the cover and his breath rasping as he followed them.
In a moment James saw a light ahead and he stuck his head out to see Kelly Kelly standing on a spiral staircase, waiting for him with the candle. They were about halfway up the stairs; at the top was a great door that had been closed up years ago. Huge planks were nailed across it.
Red popped out of the hole, retrieved the candle from his sister and started down the stairs. James counted thirty steps before they reached the bottom, where Red switched on a light.
James was amazed. They had come down into a decent-sized room crammed with a complicated series of dials and pressure gauges, levers and controls. It all looked ancient and
unused, from another era. A railway track ran along one side, disappearing into a narrow tunnel, sealed round the edges with rubber.
It was like a miniature underground station. There was even a carriage waiting on a siding. But this was no ordinary tube train. The carriage was tiny, open at the top and shaped like a bullet.
‘What is it?’ said James. ‘Where are we?’
‘It’s the pneumatic railway,’ said Red. ‘It was built last century.’
‘But what’s it for?’
‘It was meant to carry mail,’ said Red. ‘They was gonna build them all over London apparently. Well, under London, I suppose. High-speed mail delivery, shunting letters and parcels from the big sorting office up at Euston. But it never worked properly and was never used. They closed it all down fifty year ago, and it was forgotten about. But about five years ago a lag by the name of Nesbitt stumbled across it. He was running around down here trying to escape from the rozzers.’
‘Rozzers?’
‘The cops, police. Locals have always used the sewers as hiding places and secret tunnels to get from one place to another without being seen. Well, old Nesbitt didn’t know what it was exactly he’d found, but he thought it might be useful. It wasn’t working then, of course, so he set about exploring the tunnels, crawling along until he’d mapped the whole system. He asked around and eventually worked out it was the remains of the old pneumatic railway. Very handy. And even more handy when he got the trains fixed again. A mate of his who was an engineer for the railways figured it all out, got it up and running. It used to run on steam, but he converted it to electric, nicking the power from all the cables that run down here. Had a whole team of blokes fixing it up. The gangs use it now, mostly for smuggling things, but sometimes for smuggling people. I got one of me uncles drunk one night and he told me all about it, all the codes and everything.’
As he spoke, Red was pressing switches and pulling levers, and he eventually slipped on a pair of headphones and listened intently.
‘There’s a big mail depot down at the Royal Docks,’ said Kelly. ‘For taking mail off the ships. The railway runs all the way there.’