Whispers Under Ground

working for you?’ I asked the sisters.
    ‘Who?’ asked Olympia and looked over at Zach. ‘Oh Goblin Boy?
    ‘Is he a goblin?’ I asked. ‘He said he was half fairy.’
    ‘Same thing,’ said Chelsea. ‘Sort of.’
    ‘I can’t keep them straight,’ said Olympia.
    ‘It’s all the same to us,’ said Chelsea.
    ‘But he does work for you?’ I asked. ‘Full time?’
    ‘Don’t be silly,’ said Chelsea. ‘He’s the neighbourhood odd job guy.’
    ‘Yeah,’ said Olympia. ‘If the job is odd he’s the goblin for you.’
    I looked over to find that Zach was staring back at me. I was tempted to go ask him some questions but I really felt I’d been underground long enough.
    ‘I can’t be bothered to deal with you two now,’ I said. ‘But don’t think I won’t check with your mum.’
    ‘Oh we’re quaking in our boots,’ said Olympia.
    ‘Relax, magic boy,’ said Chelsea. ‘We keep it all strictly contained.’
    I gave them my sternest look, which bothered them not at all, and went off to join Kumar and Reynolds.
    Apparently we had two options, a long climb up a set of spiral stairs or we could go through the now open Holland Park tube station where at least we could take the lift up – as if that was a contest. We were just heading for the passageway to the station when Zach intercepted me.
    ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.
    I told Kumar and Reynolds that I’d catch up.
    ‘We heard the ambience was brilliant,’ I said.
    ‘Yeah, no, look, listen,’ said Zach. ‘I thought you might be looking for other tunnels.’
    ‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m looking for a change of clothes.’
    ‘The old GPO tunnel goes right past this place,’ he said.
    I heard the whistle the second time. Given the thump, thump, thump of the bass beat and the fact that Zach was trying to shout over the music, it’s amazing I heard it at all. On the third whistle there was no mistaking the non-studio-processed nature of the sound and I looked across the dance floor to see Kumar waving for my attention. When he had it he pointed at his eyes and then at the far end of the club. I turned back to Zach, who had a strangely frantic look on his face.
    ‘I’ve got to go,’ I said.
    ‘What about the tunnels?’
    ‘Later,’ I said.
    I pushed my way through the crowd as quickly as I could and as soon as I was close Kumar yelled, ‘He’s here.’
    No need to ask who. ‘Where?’ I asked.
    ‘Going out through the station exit,’ said Kumar.
    Out amongst the innocent bystanders, I thought.
    ‘Could you see if he still had the Sten gun?’ I asked.
    Kumar hadn’t seen it.
    We headed out through the exit into Holland Park station – at a walking pace, thank god. Reynolds had been shadowing him and we found her crouched at the bottom of a flight of stairs trying to get an angle on anyone at the top without being seen.
    ‘He just went up,’ she whispered to us.
    I asked if she was sure it was him.
    ‘Pale face, big eyes, that weird round-shouldered posture,’ she said. ‘Definitely him.’
    I was impressed. I hadn’t even noticed his posture. The sisters had said that after the stairs there was a short corridor and then a fire door out into the station proper. We reckoned he’d hear our boots if we ran up behind him. So we walked up, having a casual conversation in the hope we’d sound like weary clubbers. In the course of the first two flights I learnt that Special Agent Kimberley Reynolds was from Enid, Oklahoma and had gone to university at Stillwater and thence to Quantico.
    Sergeant Kumar turned out to be from Hounslow and had studied Engineering at Sussex University but had fallen into policing. ‘I’d have been a terrible engineer,’ he said. ‘No patience.’
    I had a jazz anecdote about my father all ready to go when we very clearly heard the sound of a door slamming shut up ahead – at which point we legged it.
    It was an ordinary fire door, heavily spring-loaded, presumably so Olympia and Chelsea’s friends could leave without letting the commuter traffic leak back in. We went through it slowly and quietly and found ourselves in an alcove tucked away near the stations lifts. Our suspect wasn’t amongst the passengers waiting to go up in the lift and, according to them, they’d been waiting at least a couple of minutes, which was too long for him to have gone up earlier.
    ‘Stairs or platforms?’ asked Kumar.
    ‘He likes to stay underground,’ I said. ‘Platforms first.’
    We caught