Read Whispers Under Ground (Rivers of London 3) Online
Authors: Ben Aaronovitch
Whispers Under Ground (Rivers of London 3) (39 page)
The waiting jet was long and slim, painted white and silver, and seemed much larger close up than I’d expected.
‘Good luck,’ I said.
‘Thank you,’ she said and kissed me on the cheek.
I watched to make sure the jet was on its way before heading for the car park.
One less thing to worry about, I thought. Perhaps I was going to get to see the match that afternoon after all.
I don’t know why I bother, I really don’t, because at that exact instant my phone rang and a voice identified herself as a British Transport Police inspector and asked did I know a certain Abigail Kumara and could I be a dear and come down to the BTP Headquarters in Camden and please take her away.
As it happened, I’d already been planning for just this sort of eventuality. But I’d counted on having more time to butter up Nightingale first.
I said I would certainly be round to get her just as soon as I cleared some things with my boss. The Inspector thanked me and wished me a Happy New Year.
I
found Abigail in an interview room eating Burger King and reading a month-old copy
of Jackie
. The BTP had discovered her in the tunnel under my old school committing an act of vandalism. By rights she should have been returned home in disgrace with possible charges pending, but she’d dropped my name and the BTP had been seized by the spirit of goodwill or, more likely, a desire to avoid the paperwork involved.
I sat down opposite her and we stared at each other – she broke first.
‘I was finishing off the graffiti,’ she said. ‘You know the one the ghost was writing. In the tunnel where the Hogwarts Express goes. Before he’s, you know, squished—’
‘Why?’
‘I reckoned that if he got his message out he might get closure and move on,’ she said.
I didn’t ask where she thought the ghost would move on to.
‘I thought it would be a nice Christmassy thing to do,’ she said.
‘It’s the day after Boxing Day,’ I said.
‘We had to spend Christmas with Uncle Bob in Waltham Forest,’ she said. ‘I got a new coat – like it?’
It was blue, quilted and several sizes too big.
‘I’ve got you a Christmas present, too,’ I said.
‘Really?’ she said, and then gave me a suspicious look. ‘What kind of present?’
I handed it over and watched while she meticulously unpeeled the Sellotape before removing and neatly folding the paper. I’d given her a Moleskine reporter-style notebook that looks almost exactly the kind of black notebook that everyone thinks the police use, only we don’t. And even if we did, we’d be much too cheap to buy Moleskines – we’d get them from Niceday instead.
‘What am I supposed to do with this?’ she asked.
‘You’re going to make notes in it,’ I said. ‘Anything you notice that you think is unusual or interesting—’
‘Like the ghost?’
‘Like the ghost,’ I said. ‘Except that you’re not to get on the train tracks, or break into private property or stay out all night, or put yourself in danger in any shape or form.’
‘Can I bunk off school?’ she asked.
‘No, you cannot bunk off school.’
‘I’m not sure I’m really understanding the positive aspects of this arrangement,’ said Abigail.
‘Every Saturday you come down to my office in Russell Square and we go over your notes and we develop action plans based on what you’ve observed,’ I said.
‘That sounds exciting,’ said Abigail.
‘Which will include follow-up investigations and joint field trips to verify any information you bring back.’ I gave her a moment to decode what I’d said. ‘Is that a bit more appealing?’
Nightingale had been horrified by the whole idea when I broached it before coming down to make the pitch.
‘What are you proposing?’ he’d asked. ‘A Girl Guides troop?’
I told him that that was an absurd notion, not least because we’d never satisfy the health and safety requirements for running a troop of Girl Guides. Nightingale said that health and safety was not the point.
‘Think of it as a boxing club,’ I said. ‘You know the boys are going to smack each other in the face anyway, so you might as well channel it into something disciplined. Abigail’s going to be out there looking, so we might as well make use of it, and at least this way we can keep an eye on her.’
Nightingale couldn’t argue with the logic, but he put his foot down on one issue. ‘You are not to teach anybody magic,’ he said. ‘In the first instance you’re far too reckless in who you expose to the art, and in the second you just aren’t qualified to teach. Anyone learning from you is bound to pick up your sloppy form and those embellishments you find so amusing. So I want you to swear now, as my apprentice, that you will not pass on the art to another without my express permission.’
I so swore.
‘If it becomes necessary I will teach Abigail the forms and wisdoms myself,’ he said, and then smiled. ‘Perhaps she’ll prove a more diligent student than yourself in any case.’
Now I watched as Abigail shifted in her seat while she gave the proposition some thought.
‘Do I get badges?’ she asked.
‘What?’
‘Badges,’ she said. ‘You know like in the Guides like
Fire Safety
and
First Aid
or
Party Planner
.’
‘Party Planner – what’s that for?’
‘What do you think it’s for?’
‘Do you want badges?’
Abigail bit her lip. ‘Nah,’ she said. ‘That would be stupid.’
Which was a pity, I thought, badges might be fun,
Fireball Proficiency, Werelight, Latin
and the ever-popular
Fatal Brain Haemorrhage
. ‘Do we have a deal or not?’
‘Deal,’ she said, we shook on it and I drove her home.
On the way she asked if she could tell me something even if sounded stupid. I reassured her that she could tell me anything. ‘And I promise not to laugh,’ I said. ‘Unless it’s funny.’
‘When I was down under the school,’ she said. ‘I met a talking fox.’
‘A talking fox?’
‘Yeah.’
I thought about that for a bit.
‘Was it really talking?’ I asked. ‘Like words coming out of its mouth?’
‘It was talking,’ she said. ‘Believe it.’
‘Really? What did it say?’
‘Tell your friends they’re on the wrong side of the river.’
I’d like to thank Bob Hunter, Camilla Lawrence, Ian Lawson and Caroline Dunne of the MPS; Ramsey Allen from TFL and Jamie Wragg of Central Saint Martins for all their help and patience. Any factual errors in the text are, of course, mine.
Also by Ben Aaronovitch from Gollancz:
Rivers of London
Moon Over Soho
A Gollancz eBook
Copyright © Ben Aaronovitch 2012
Cover illustration copyright © Stephen Walter
Cover image Courtesy of the Artist/TAG Fine Arts
Cover image taken from The Island London Series, published by TAG Fine Arts
Design by Patrick Knowles
All rights reserved.
The right of Ben Aaronovitch to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in Great Britain in 2012 by
Gollancz
The Orion Publishing Group Ltd
Orion House
5 Upper Saint Martin’s Lane
London, WC2H 9EA
An Hachette UK Company
This eBook first published in 2012 by Gollancz.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978 0 575 09767 4
All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
