Tunnels 04, Closer

the evening news. She'd just finished a long telephone conversation with her sister. It was one of those concerned-relative calls, where the other person has absolutely nothing to say but takes a long time to say it. Worse still, her sister was threatening to pay her a visit, to 'look after' her.
    Her sister didn't like it that Mrs. Rawls was all by herself in the house, and had been for some time since her husband, Jeff, had decided to take himself on an extended trip abroad.
    Mrs. Rawls didn't relish lying to her own family, or anyone else for that matter, but it had to be said that when she explained her husband's absence by telling people this, none of them seemed terribly surprised. They all knew how much stress she and Mr. Rawls had been under since Chester had gone missing, and these well-wishers invariably muttered the usual "He probably just needs time to himself," and "He'll be back soon, you'll see," words of comfort.
    Of course, Mrs. Rawls knew differently. Or, to be accurate, she didn't know where he, or her son, currently were, but she was pretty sure neither of them had gone abroad.
    She leant back in her chair, trying her best to concentrate on the television, but her mind insisted on wandering.
    She'd told Drake she couldn't just stand by as her son, and then latterly her husband, did their bit in the fight against the Styx. On the mobile phone Drake had given her, which her husband didn't know she had, she'd talked long about her commitment, and how she was slowly going mad in the hotel, until Drake capitulated and came up with something she could do.
    And the plan had been that she would act as if she was still under the grip of the Dark Light programming, and simply return to her home in Highfield. From there, she'd report any contact with the Styx or their agents to Drake using a dead letterbox procedure. This would entail leaving notes for him in the local newsagent's when she popped down there every morning to pick up the daily paper.
    Of course, the plan wasn't infallible.
    The Styx could simply 'disappear' her, as Drake put it. Or they might decide to give her a Dark Light booster, so she was really back under its control again.
    But, on the other hand, if the Styx thought she was still fully programmed and could be useful to them, either as a link to Chester and hence to Drake, or if they chose to deploy her in some role, it was invaluable intel. And that, as Drake had explained to her, was hard to come by where the Styx were concerned.
    As the news finished and the weather report began on the television, Mrs. Rawls heard a noise behind her. The sound of someone moving across the carpet.
    Her heart skipped a beat.
    Is this it? she thought to herself. From where she was sitting, with her back to the door, she had no way of seeing who was there. Despite the urge to turn around, she didn't move a muscle. She tried to remain calm -- she had to behave as if she was still Darklit.
    A voice spoke in her ear -- a low, breathy voice. It had an accent -- maybe a touch of Cockney about it.
    "We've got something we want you to d--" it rumbled.
    The sentence was never completed as she heard a dull thud.
    She wheeled around in time to see a hefty man crash to the floor, his dark glasses spinning off his face as he landed. He was wearing a coat with a waxy finish and he had a flat cap on his head. He'd been carrying a box, which now lay beside him.
    And standing over him was another man of much slighter build -- someone who looked like the Styx Drake had described. But this man was wearing a sports jacket and a pair of flannel trousers, and although his face was cadaverously thin and his eyes intense, the overall impression was that he wasn't some killer from the underground city she'd been told about.
    "Mrs. Rawls -- Emily," he said, offering her his hand, which was a little curious considering he'd just poleaxed a man in her sitting room.
    "Yes," she replied, shaking it.
    He came around and sat on the arm of the sofa by her.
    "Drake sent me. I don't know if you remember me, but I accompanied him here before."
    She frowned.
    "It was when you and Mr. Rawls were unable to recognize Chester, because you'd been Darklit. By the way, have you overcome the programming completely?"
    He didn't wait for a response from her, uttering some words in a strange, rasping language that Mrs. Rawls couldn't begin to understand. She gave him a small shrug.
    "Seems as though you have," the man concluded. He got to his feet.