The Underground City, page 9
Lewis was actually feeling more than a bit embarrassed. What on earth was he going to say? I’m the Shadow? I’ve come to rescue you? Both sounded totally over the top.
“Who on earth are you?” James asked, his lips barely able to move for the snow crusting his face.
“Never mind who I am,” Lewis said hurriedly. “Let’s get you out of here. Don’t worry, I can carry you both,” he added as they looked at him in amazement.
“How do you propose to do that?” James queried. Charles, who was drifting in and out of consciousness, didn’t say anything and James, after a quick glance, held on to him tighter.
“Let’s warm them up!” Lewis said quietly.
Casimir took the hint and again a ray of magic enveloped the two climbers who relaxed as a delicious feeling of warmth stole over them, Charles stirred and James’s eyes mirrored his relief. Who or what this strange creature was, he didn’t know but as the grim prospect of certain death started to fade from his mind, he found himself hoping wildly that perhaps, just perhaps, they might come out of this in one piece.
“Take Charles first,” he said hoarsely. “He’s in a bad way. There ought to be a Mountain Rescue team in the area. They’d have called it out when we didn’t get back to the hotel!”
Lewis hovered in the air and settled himself beside Charles, pulling his arms over his shoulders and hoisting him on his back. After the Forth Bridge affair there wasn’t much he didn’t know about lifting and carrying.
“Any sign of a Mountain Rescue team, Casimir?” he asked as they dropped towards the valley below.
“You’re homed in on it,” was Casimir’s reply.
And sure enough, the bent, plodding figures of the Mountain Rescue Team, battling against the force of the blizzard, soon loomed up through the snow.
The leader of the team threw out an arm to signal a halt as, out of the whirling flakes, a strange, black-caped figure swooped to land beside them. Lewis grinned slightly at their astounded faces and knew that before long his sudden appearance would be the talk of the Highlands and Islands. “Is one of you a doctor?” he asked, heaving Charles off his shoulders. Two men immediately moved forward while others, seeing the slumped figure of the climber, opened their packs and started assembling a stretcher.
“You’ll need two stretchers,” he told them. “If you just hang on, I’ll bring the other one.”
“He’s falling!” Casimir interrupted him abruptly and at the same time whirled Lewis into the air and up the sheer side of the mountain to where a hooded, bulky figure tumbled head over heels through the whirling snowflakes; James, who had tried to shift to a more comfortable position when Lewis had taken Charles from his grasp, had moved awkwardly, lost his balance and toppled from the ledge. He could hardly believe his luck when two arms, as strong as steel, grasped him firmly in mid-air. “Relax,” a boyish voice said, “you’re safe now!”
“I … don’t know who, or what, you are,” James whispered. “But thanks all the same. I’d be a goner without you!”
Lewis grinned and Casimir, who, in the past, had rarely gone out of his way to help anyone, was again visited by that strange feeling of elation that he couldn’t quite put a name to — but one thing he did know was that this Shadow business was just what he needed to add a bit of spice to Lewis’s totally uninteresting life. Nevertheless, the boy’s knowledge of geography — and history, for that matter, was quite deplorable. Lewis, Casimir decided, was going to have to develop the urge to read and learn; for he, himself, was anxious to know what had gone on in the world during the hundreds of years that he’d spent cooped up in the well at Al Antara and the Robinson’s library, he decided, was the ideal place to find out.
15. Lost in the Underground City
Clara shivered as she looked around. This part of the Underground City was definitely scary. It was nothing like Mary King’s Close which, she now realized, must have been extensively renovated to make it fit for tourists to visit. Its neat, white-washed walls certainly bore no resemblance to the filthy jumble of dark, narrow alleys under the Assembly Hall. The houses here were derelict and their black, empty windows seemed to watch them as they crept fearfully past.
“We’ll have to be careful not to get lost,” she said worriedly, as Neil’s torch lit up the old, dusty streets.
Neil, however, hardly heard her. He was fascinated. “What a place,” he breathed. “Just think, Clara, no one’s probably walked down this street for hundreds of years!” He shone his torch through the windows of some of the houses and peered in, but the rooms were empty.
“Let’s have a look inside this one!” he said excitedly, climbing the few steps to its gaping doorway. “You never know, we might find something really old and interesting inside.” Clara didn’t think so but followed him in nervously, picking her way over broken floors and nudging scattered heaps of crumbling debris with the toes of her trainers. The old house was a rabbit-warren of small rooms and passages and to this day Clara reckons that they left it by a different door from the one they went in by. The narrow streets all looked much the same and it was only when they turned to go back to the cellars of the Assembly Hall that they found that they couldn’t find their way. They wandered up and down until, with sinking hearts, realized that they were well and truly lost.
“I don’t believe this!” Neil said. “We can’t be lost! I’m sure we came along this street! The stair that leads up to the cellars should be about here!”
“Well, it isn’t,” Clara said in a small voice. “I think we got lost in that house. We must have left by the back door and ended up in another alley.”
“Let’s go back along and see if we can find it again, then,” Neil said, trying to sound cheerful.
“Couldn’t we call our carpets?” Clara asked hopefully.
Neil shook his head. “They wouldn’t be able to get in,” he pointed out. “Mary King’s Close is locked for the night and we shut the basement door behind us when we came down here, remember?”
“We should have brought chalk with us so that we could mark our path,” Clara groaned, wishing that she’d thought of it before. “You know, like Hansel and Gretel.” But although they looked at each house carefully, they didn’t recognize the house they’d been in and soon afterwards found themselves close to a totally unfamiliar street that sloped steeply downwards.
“Look,” said Neil, striding forward, “this must be where the bank robbers hang out. They’ve been here and not long ago either,” he said, picking up a chipped saucer that stood on a pile of old crates. It was full of cigarette-ends. His nose wrinkled in disgust as the smell drifted round him. “One of the crooks must smoke!” he muttered, replacing the ashtray hurriedly. The heavy smoker was, of course, Wullie who couldn’t last for more than fifteen minutes without a fag. He reeked of cigarette smoke and then wondered why the non-smokers in the pub, edged to the other end of the bar!
Clara looked round nervously. “And this must be where they’re working,” she said, shining her torch on a scatter of tools, propped against the wall. “Look, they’ve got a lantern as well.”
“Now that we’re here, we should go down and see how far they’ve got,” Neil said slowly, letting the light of the torch shine down the dark, threatening curve of the alley. “I wonder if they’ve reached the bank yet.”
“It looks dead creepy, doesn’t it,” Clara said doubtfully, not at all anxious to venture further.
Neil shivered. “Come on,” he said grimly, “we’d better get it over with! I’ll borrow their lantern so that we have a bit more light. Careful how you go though; there are still bits of brick and stuff lying around.”
Murdo and Wullie had obviously been busy, for the alleyway was more or less clear of rubble. When they were about half way down, Clara tripped and fell over a jagged brick. She cried out as she hit the ground. “I’ve torn my jeans and I think I’ve cut my knee,” she muttered, getting to her feet and wiping her hands on the side of her jacket, “and grazed my hands!”
“For Pete’s sake, Clara! You’ll be fine!” Neil muttered as Clara dabbed at her cut knee and hobbled after him.
“Look, Neil,” she said in relief, “this must be what they were looking for.” Neil lifted the lantern as they walked up to a very new-looking red-brick wall. A pick and a shovel lay propped against it.
“The bank!” Neil said in triumph. “This wall must have been built by the bank! Bet you the vaults are behind it!”
Clara looked at the pick and the shovel and nodded. “I reckon they’re ready to break in,” she said.
“Yeah,” agreed her brother, holding up the lantern, “and,” he said, his eyes searching the alley, “it doesn’t look as though they’ve damaged any of the houses, either. The Plague People must still be holed up in their cellars.”
“Great!” Clara said sarcastically. “Thanks for that!” She looked round nervously, horrified at the thought that, had the crooks been careless, they might actually have come face to face with the Plague People.
“It’ll cheer up Mary King, no end,” Neil continued. “She was really worried that they’d let them escape.”
Clara shivered at the thought. “Come on, Neil,” she urged, “let’s go back now. We’ve seen enough, haven’t we?”
Clara was panting as she climbed up the steep hill to the top of the alley. Going up, she decided, was almost as bad as going down! “Get a move on, Neil,” she gasped. “We’ve got to find our way out of here!”
“Have you then?” said a rough voice as the beam of a powerful torch shone on them.
“They’re just a couple of kids, Murdo,” Wullie said in relief, peering out from behind him. “Just a couple of kids!”
“What are you doing down here?” Murdo said grimly, taking in Clara’s torn jeans and grimy face.
Real tears of relief came to Clara’s eyes as she saw the two men. “Oh, thank goodness,” she said, the tears spilling down her cheeks. “I … I thought we were going to be shut in here forever!”
“We were exploring the cellars in the Assembly Hall,” Neil explained, “and we got lost in all those old passageways.”
“We’re so glad to see you,” Clara smiled, wiping the tears from her eyes, totally unaware that she was leaving black streaks across her face. “Can you show us the way out? Please!”
“Where did you say you came from?” asked Murdo.
“The Assembly Hall,” Neil said. “We’re in the pantomime.”
“Pantomime, eh!” Murdo said thoughtfully, with a glance at Wullie. “Now what pantomime would that be?”
“Ali Baba and … and the Forty Thieves,” Clara said. She saw the funny side of her words the minute she’d said them and stuck her nails sharply into the palms of her hands so that she wouldn’t giggle.
Wullie, however, let out a real roar of laughter and even Murdo smiled sardonically. Neil and Clara eyed one another warily and managed to look puzzled as they joined in.
“Ali Baba, eh!” Murdo said. “Well, well! And when is it on?”
“The dress rehearsal is in a few days time,” Neil said slowly, wondering at his interest, “and it opens on Monday of next week.”
“Monday, eh,” Murdo repeated thoughtfully.
“It’s really good,” Clara said, smiling shyly at Wullie. “Matt Lafferty’s in it. You know … the guy who won that TV show? He’s fabulous!”
“Matt Lafferty,” Wullie grinned amiably. “Aye, I read that he was in a panto this year. He’s a great guy, he is!”
Murdo, meanwhile, got his map out of his pocket and spread it on their makeshift table. “Where did you say you came from?” he asked. “The Assembly Hall, wasn’t it?”
Neil nodded, fascinated at the sight of the map. “There’s the Mound,” he said, following its curve down towards Princes Street, “and the Assembly Hall must be above those streets there, don’t you think?”
“Aye,” Murdo agreed. “Now we’re about here so we’ll have to take this road that curves slightly.”
“Could you take us?” asked Clara shyly. “We’ve been so frightened and I don’t want to get lost again!”
“No problem,” Murdo said with a friendliness that left Wullie gawping. “We’ll take you there and see you safely back with your friends. Don’t worry!”
Neil looked guilty. “The thing is,” he said, “we didn’t tell anyone that we were going to explore down here and … well, we don’t want to get into trouble.”
“Yes,” added Clara, “if we’re caught, they mightn’t let us be in the pantomime any more.”
“You’ll no’ be caught, lassie,” Wullie growled. “We’re no’ going to shop you!”
“That works both ways, though,” Murdo said, looking at Neil meaningfully. “We don’t shop you — you don’t shop us? Okay?”
Neil looked at him and read the menace in his eyes. “Okay,” he agreed, his voice suddenly sounding shaky.
Clara looked at him sharply. What on earth was the matter with Neil?
Neil looked at her and shook his head slightly. He had been just about to warn the robbers about the Plague People as Mary King had said but the look in Murdo’s eyes had stopped him short. He felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as it suddenly dawned on him that if he gave him the ghosts’ warning, then Murdo would realize that they knew of his plans to rob the bank.
Not a good idea, thought Neil, his mind racing. It had been a big mistake to tell them that nobody knew where they were. Still, he reasoned, they’d got as far as the bank without letting the Plague People out, so maybe it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t pass on the message.
Convinced by the look on Neil’s face that he wouldn’t say a word to anyone about them being in the Underground City, Murdo relaxed. “Great!” he said, sounding a lot friendlier. “Now, let’s get you back to the Assembly Hall!”
Clara sighed with relief as they reached the shabby door that led to the cellars of the Assembly Hall and grinned at Neil who still looked rather white. Thank goodness they’d got back safely, he thought, as he thanked Murdo and Wullie and, with a brief wave of his hand, followed Clara who, hoping they hadn’t been missed, was already clattering her way up the narrow flight of stairs to rejoin the rehearsal.
The crooks watched them go but as Wullie turned to go back the way they’d come, Murdo held him back. “Hang on, Wullie,” he muttered. “What say you that we go up and have a nose about?”
Wullie puffed slightly as they climbed the stairs but once backstage they moved purposefully and as no one thought to question whether they belonged to the King’s or were Assembly Hall staff, they were able to make quite a thorough reconnaissance of the place.
“Got some plasticine on you then, Wullie?” queried Murdo.
“Never travel without it,” Wullie grinned, fishing around in one of the many inner pockets that had been specially built into his capacious overcoat. He knew perfectly well what was required of him for he, too, had noticed that the caretaker had left the keys in the basement doors. It took seconds for Wullie to take them out and press them gently, but deeply, into the plasticene.
“You’re no’ thinking of nicking any this stuff, are you?” he asked, nodding at the prop table as he carefully stashed the imprints of the keys in his coat. Eyes gleaming, he picked up an Aladdin’s lamp and looked speculatively over the piles of brightly-coloured fake jewels and the glitter of gold-painted mirrors, vases, lamps and trays that lay strewn across the props table.
Murdo looked at Wullie and almost sighed. “No, Wullie,” he said, “no, the keys are not for that!” He shook his head. “Get real, will you! What would I be doing with this load of tat, you idiot?”
“What do you want the keys for then?” mumbled Wullie, fascinated by the exotic glitter of the props.
“When we’ve lifted the cash from the bank we can hardly walk out through Deacon Brodie’s Tavern with the loot, can we?”
Wullie looked thoughtful and Murdo persevered. “Even that load of thick-heads will suspect something if we walk through the pub carrying hefty sacks of money, don’t you think?”
Wullie looked at him in sudden understanding.
“Especially,” continued Murdo, “if they’ve heard the explosion when we blow up the vault! And they probably will hear it. The pub’s no’ that far away!”
Wullie nodded.
“But,” Murdo went on cunningly, “they’ll no’ hear the noise from away up here, will they?”
Wullie shook his head.
“So we can bring the sacks of cash up here …”
“And,” said Wullie, his brain working at last, “make our getaway through these cellars instead!”
“You’ve got it in one!” Murdo grinned, clapping him on the back. “We’ll have the keys cut tomorrow!”
16. Chasing Shadows
Margaret Grant looked at her husband across the breakfast table as Lewis got up and muttered something about just going to do a bit of work in the library.
“Did you say anything to him, Bob?” she asked her husband.
“About what?” her husband enquired, lowering the newspaper.
“Well, he seems to spend most of his time reading these days and I thought you might have been … pushing him to do a bit of work.”
Bob Grant shook his head. “I haven’t said a word to Lewis but I’m glad to see him taking an interest in something other than comics!”
“But the books he’s reading, Bob. Huge volumes on Scottish History …”
Her husband looked puzzled. “That’s certainly a big jump from comics,” he said, thoughtfully. “Good for him! Heriot’s is certainly having a positive influence on him.”
“He was talking about Rizzio’s murder the other day. He knew all about it, you know. To hear him speak, you’d have thought he’d seen it happen!”
“I didn’t read about that,” her husband turned the pages of his newspaper.
Margaret Grant raised her eyebrows. “For goodness sake, Bob, David Rizzio! In Holyrood Palace. In the days of Mary, Queen of Scots!”
