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Authors: Michael de Larrabeiti
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Fantasy & Magic
The Borribles: Across the Dark Metropolis (11 page)
BOOK: The Borribles: Across the Dark Metropolis
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At a distance of twenty yards or so from Sussworth’s caravan the circus commando took cover behind two or three large trees. By the light of a distant street lamp they could see three policemen huddled against the wire fence surrounding the mysterious building that was the entrance to the underground citadel. Beyond it the main road curved, empty of all movement, away westwards, down the long hill towards Balham, and a light wind drove the rain from the dark reaches of south London in flurries across the tarmac.
‘There were six on guard when I left,’ whispered Wanda. ‘The other three must be in the caravan … and the Roller’s gone.’
‘What shall we do?’ asked Signor Buffoni. ‘How shall we proceed?’
‘We have a plan,’ said Marco, ‘Vispa and I. All you have to do is watch.’ And at a sign from Marco the ventriloquist threw his voice past the three policemen and against a blank wall so that it rebounded and appeared to be coming from somewhere near the Underground station. The three policemen sprang upright immediately and faced about, turning their backs towards the trees where the circus people were concealed. It was no wonder they moved so quickly. The voice the ventriloquist was using sounded exactly like Sussworth’s.
‘Have I caught you men napping when you should be on duty?’ said the voice. ‘I warned you men to be alert; this could mean demotion. Get yourselves over here, you slovenly lot.’
The policemen stared towards the station but they could see no one. Slowly they advanced to the edge of the road, going in the direction they thought the voice was coming from, not daring to ignore the orders of their superior.
No sooner had they begun to move than Marco ran from his hiding place, came up behind them and with his enormous strength banged their heads together so smartly that they fell senseless to the ground.
As soon as this was accomplished the rest of the circus people appeared and dragged the unconscious policemen into the dark by the side of Sussworth’s caravan. Here the Sword-Swallower went through their pockets and found a set of keys to the citadel, which he immediately handed over to Signor Buffoni.
‘Now,’ said the circus owner, ‘if we can get our hands on the men in the caravan, we’re in business.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Vispa, and he marched to the caravan steps as bold as brass and began to give more orders, not only in Sussworth’s voice this time but in the voice of Sergeant Hanks as well.
‘What are those men doing in my caravan, Hanks? I want them out of there. It’s a disgrace.’
‘Yessir, yessir. Come on now, you constables, let’s be ’aving you nice and lively, on the double.’
There were at first only slight sounds from within the caravan but
there came more and more as Vispa kept up his stream of orders. In less than a minute or two the door of the caravan was opened and, pushing against each other in their haste not to be last, the three policemen tumbled down the steps.
there came more and more as Vispa kept up his stream of orders. In less than a minute or two the door of the caravan was opened and, pushing against each other in their haste not to be last, the three policemen tumbled down the steps.
Once again Marco did his work. His huge fist struck three blows and the guardians of law and order collapsed unconscious.
‘Excellent,’ said Signor Buffoni. ‘Handcuff them all together, gag them too and we’ll lock all six of them in the caravan.’
‘That’s right,’ said the Fat Lady. ‘We’ll take these as well.’ She ripped the radios from all six policemen and shoved them under her huge jumper. ‘Who knows?’ she added. ‘They may come in useful.’
The moment all was ready Signor Buffoni used the captured keys to open the gate in the wire fence and then led his troops to the solid steel door which he opened in the same way. Inside they soon found the heavy manhole, and the Sword-Swallower, who was thought to have had a criminal past, made short work of the combination lock. Marco then spat on his hands, rubbed them together and hoisted the trapdoor all on his own. For a second the circus people were stunned, gawping at the staircase that wound down into the infinity beneath their feet.
‘Never mind,’ said Wanda. ‘We can’t turn back now.’
‘Certainly not,’ agreed Signor Buffoni. ‘Now follow me, and step quietly. Surprise is everything in these operations.’
It took the Buffonis hours to discover where the policemen were. From each landing led scores of corridors and there were scores of landings—each one needing to be investigated in case the prisoners were overlooked. By the time they had reached the last level of all the circus people had almost given up hope of finding their friends.
‘But don’t despair,’ said the Sword-Swallower, ‘there are signs of life down here; there are police raincoats hanging up on the wall, there is mud on the floor, there is a helmet on that chair. This is it.’
And it was. Rapidly Signor Buffoni gave his orders. ‘The Fat Lady will block the staircase,’ he said. ‘Let no one pass. The rest of you, follow me.’
There was an uncomfortable feeling in those wide steel corridors, a claustrophobic feeling of lethargy and hopelessness. The circus people could sense it as they tiptoed silently back and forth, looking for a clue that might tell them in which cell the captives lay. But there
seemed to be no answer to their problem short of opening all the doors and waking all the policemen; no answer, that was, until Wanda was struck with a brainwave.
seemed to be no answer to their problem short of opening all the doors and waking all the policemen; no answer, that was, until Wanda was struck with a brainwave.
‘Have you not noticed, you guys,’ she said to Signor Buffoni and the others, ‘that the fuzz down here is so sure of its security that there’s no one on duty? They think no one can find the way in, let alone find the way out. Also, this here is a headquarters for our leaders to live in after the big bang. Now all these doors we have been looking at have spyholes in so that they can double up as prison cells in times of war, revolution and other disturbances. We have not wanted to open these spyholes in case we find a copper staring at us from the other side, but … these doors have bolts on the outside, one at the top and one at the bottom.’
‘Which means,’ said the Sword-Swallower, catching on to the idea, ‘our job is relatively easy after all.’
‘Too true, friend,’ said Wanda, ‘too true. All we have to do is open the bolts that are closed and close the bolts that are open, and wrong will be made right and right will be rightly wronged. A philosophical turn-round. Life’s problem answered in a nutshell by the sliding of a bolt.’
Very gingerly the circus people went to every steel door on that landing and changed the position of each bolt. At the end of this exercise they found themselves with four doors that they could open. They looked at each other and smiled.
‘Well,’ said Signor Buffoni. ‘I think this must be the time to start the ball rolling.’
Gently, and taking a deep breath, Signor Buffoni eased open the first door. Inside was as brightly lit as outside and a pitiful scene met his eyes. The Adventurers, with no beds, no blankets and no cushions, lay fast asleep on the cold steel floor, curled in each other’s arms for warmth. Their clothes were torn, their faces bruised and dirty, furrowed with wandering tracks where tears had run.
Signor Buffoni was speechless with pity. Wanda wasn’t. ‘Did you ever see such a sight in all your born days?’ she said. ‘Kids handcuffed.’
‘What are we going to do with them?’ asked the Sword-Swallower. ‘They’re not ours.’
‘Not ours,’ retorted Signor Buffoni, ‘of course they are ours. They
are friends of our acrobats; they were invited into my big top and what is more they fought on our side. That makes them honorary Buffonis. Wake ’em up and send ’em on their way.’
are friends of our acrobats; they were invited into my big top and what is more they fought on our side. That makes them honorary Buffonis. Wake ’em up and send ’em on their way.’
‘Certainly,’ said Wanda, and she snatched the bunch of keys from the Sword-Swallower and began to unlock the handcuffs from the wrists of the Adventurers, shaking each one awake as she did so.
Chalotte was the first to open her eyes and she stared at the ceiling, not realizing where she was. She rubbed her hands into her face and then saw that her wrists were free. She looked at Wanda, stupidly.
‘I’m dreaming,’ she said. ‘I’m dreaming.’ But she wasn’t. There were the others, getting to their feet, massaging their stiff arms, and the cell door was open too and five or six circus people were staring through the opening.
‘Hurry,’ said Signor Buffoni, ‘the way out is clear but there is no time to lose. We have to release the clowns and the acrobats yet. Come on.’
The Adventurers needed no second bidding. Still dazed and confused, and weak from hunger too, they stumbled from their cell and ran along the corridor until they reached the foot of the stairway that would lead them to freedom. Here they found the Fat Lady on guard, wedged into the exit, but she saw them coming and with no need for orders she moved her solid body from their path.
The Borribles hardly said goodbye but raced up the concrete stairs of the citadel as fast as they could go. It seemed to all of them that they would never reach the top, that they would never feel the wind on their faces again, but at long last they saw the trapdoor above them and it was open. Soon they were pushing and pulling each other up the final flight of steps and a moment later they were gulping down huge mouthfuls of the night air.
All was empty around them. No one moved on the spaces of the common or on the high roads. Only the wind and the rain rustled in the trees and not a sound came from Sussworth’s caravan. For a second the Borribles looked at each other and touched hands.
‘Let’s not hang about,’ said Napoleon as soon as he’d regained his breath. ‘There’s no point in staying here to be caught, is there?’
‘Yeah,’ said Stonks, ‘but which way?’
‘Any way,’ said Knocker, ‘but let’s go towards Brixton. We know there’s a market there, and we need food.’
The Adventurers agreed on this plan of action and set off at a run, cutting across a corner of the common and heading towards the back streets of the South Side. They were bubbling with happiness at being free. It was wonderful to be out in the open—even the rain felt special, like a gift. But in that brilliant moment of happiness they’d forgotten one thing; they’d forgotten the very reason for their journey. Only Sydney remembered it. Only her heart was sad and she could not run at the same speed as the others. Her feet were heavy and the tears streamed down her face. On the very edge of the common, as the Adventurers were about to cross the main road towards the houses, Sydney stopped and leant her forehead against a lamp post.
‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I can’t go any further. We’ve got away but they’ve got Sam. You heard what Sussworth said. They’ve taken him to Wandsworth Prison … They’re going to turn him into catsmeat. Oh Sam!’
The others gathered around Sydney and tried to comfort her. ‘What can we do, Sid?’ asked Vulge. ‘What can anyone do?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Sydney. ‘Perhaps I could be near the prison when they bring him out.’
The others did not answer. It seemed that Sam’s situation was hopeless. Chalotte sighed and grabbed her friend by the shoulders and there, in the circle of Borribles, under the lamp post, with the rain still soaking them all, she gave Sydney the straight of it.
‘It’s no good, Sid; you’ll have to come with us. We don’t stand a chance of getting Sam out of Wandsworth Prison, but we might be able to save him later. Right now our first duty is to save ourselves; we can’t help Sam at all if we’re in the nick and Wandsworth is the first place Sussworth will look for us. We’ve got no food, no catapults, no knives, no raincoats, no nothing. We’ve got to get all those things first, then we can help the horse.’
Sydney sniffed and pushed the wet hair out of her eyes. She looked at the faces of her friends, waiting faithfully for her in the middle of that London night and she tried to smile. ‘What you say is right enough; it’s just that I hate to think of Sam in the hands of Sussworth and Hanks, let alone him going to the slaughterhouse.’
‘We’ll get him back,’ said Twilight. ‘We did it before and we’ll do it
again, we promise you.’ And seizing Sydney by the hands and arms her companions dragged her across the main road at a run and the whole band of Borribles disappeared into those silent side streets where the dawn is always late in coming.
again, we promise you.’ And seizing Sydney by the hands and arms her companions dragged her across the main road at a run and the whole band of Borribles disappeared into those silent side streets where the dawn is always late in coming.
Through all that remained of the night, strung out in single file, the Borribles marched and ran. They left the common by way of Narbonne Avenue, Hambalt and Abbeville and it was as they turned into Abbeville that Stonks, who was keeping the rearguard, noticed that he was being followed. He gave a low whistle of warning and it was relayed ahead until everyone in the long line of fugitives had taken cover behind the nearest wall or in the nearest front garden.
Stonks crouched by the side of a dustbin and waited until he saw two small figures run quickly past him. As soon as they’d gone by he emerged from his hiding place and followed. The next in line was Vulge and he did what Stonks had done and when the intruders had overtaken the third Borrible, who was Torreycanyon, they were attacked and brought to the ground, swiftly and silently.
‘Give over,’ cried a voice. ‘We’ve been trying to catch you up. It’s Ninch and Scooter.’
Stonks gave the word and Ninch and Scooter were allowed to get to their feet. ‘How did you find us?’ he asked.
‘The Buffonis let us out right after you,’ said Ninch. ‘When we got to the top of the stairs we could see you across the common, by a lamp post. We just came after you … The others have been clipped.’
Stonks nodded. ‘That’s tough,’ he said, ‘but there’s no time for talking now. We have to be off the streets by daylight. There’ll be Woollies everywhere, so get moving and follow the others.’ And then he gave another whistle to denote that all was now well.
In no time at all the Borribles were once more on the move, travelling carefully, keeping away from the main roads and using parked
cars to camouflage their movements. In this manner they quickly crossed Clapham Park Road and entered a maze of tiny alleys which ran through a red-brick estate of little maisonettes and flats; into Triangle Place, into Nelson’s Row and out on to Haselrigge Road, running faster and faster now because the heavy clouds of night were lifting and a greyness was creeping down from the sky and into the littered streets.
cars to camouflage their movements. In this manner they quickly crossed Clapham Park Road and entered a maze of tiny alleys which ran through a red-brick estate of little maisonettes and flats; into Triangle Place, into Nelson’s Row and out on to Haselrigge Road, running faster and faster now because the heavy clouds of night were lifting and a greyness was creeping down from the sky and into the littered streets.
Knocker glanced upwards. ‘Got to find something soon,’ he said to himself, and as he did he emerged from a passageway that had led him behind a block of sleeping houses, and found himself looking at a three-storey school with wire over its windows. He read the notice on the high brick wall that protected the playground. ‘Aristotle Road School’, it said, ‘Keep Out’. Knocker smiled. This was just the place, a school that was no longer in use.
The Adventurers had no difficulty in making their way into the building and they installed themselves for the day in a small office on the top floor. At first they slept, for they had travelled far and undergone much in the previous forty-eight hours, but they could not sleep for long—their hunger was too acute and the school was without heating. Soon they were shivering with cold.
They were indeed in a sorry plight: they had lost all the equipment they had brought from Battersea; they had no iron rations, no protective clothing, no catapults and no knives. They were defenceless, and what was worse they dared not even venture into the streets to look for food; they knew that Sussworth would have policemen everywhere searching for them. Every suspicious child would be arrested, especially if seen stealing.
‘We have to go to ground,’ said Stonks. ‘“Better a day without grub than a life without ears.” ’
The Borribles heard the wisdom of the proverb and tried not to think of food, snuggling closer together to keep out the cold. Through the day they dozed and coughed and sneezed. Now and then they talked, wondering if the SBG had any idea of their escape route, if Sussworth really intended to have Sam slaughtered; but above all they asked themselves how Sussworth had known that the Borribles had been hiding in a circus on Clapham Common.
‘Well it’s obvious,’ said Napoleon, screwing up his face and looking in turn at everyone in the room. ‘Someone told him … and more than likely it was someone here. One of us is a traitor.’
‘It can’t have been,’ said Orococco. ‘You can’t suspect us.’
‘I suspect everybody,’ said Napoleon proudly and dug his thumb into his chest. ‘“The Borrible who ain’t suspicious long ain’t long a Borrible.” ’ He looked at Ninch and Scooter, who sat together on the floor, leaning against the wall. ‘What about them?’ he said, pronouncing every word with emphasis. ‘We don’t know them much, do we?’
There was silence and the Borribles stared at the two circus acrobats.
Ninch leapt to his feet. ‘I’m as Borrible as you lot,’ he cried. ‘Leave it out. I’m a Borrible I tell you, look at my ears; you don’t get ears like that without being a Borrible. And look at Scooter; you never saw anything more like a Borrible in your life.’
‘Yes,’ said Scooter, ‘we’re Borrible all right, else why did we come running after you tonight? To join up with you of course. Borrible should help Borrible.’
‘What about the others, then?’ asked Napoleon with a sneer in his voice. ‘Where are they then? What happened when Sussworth took you away on your own?’
Ninch looked quickly from Napoleon to Knocker and then to Chalotte. ‘They interrogated us,’ he said. ‘Knocked us about. They clipped the ears of the others: Matzo, Sinbad, Duster, Frisby, Flapjack and Lobda … all of them. Hanks did it; you can see he likes doing it … you can see.’
‘It’s daft, anyway,’ said Torreycanyon. ‘How can they be traitors when they got captured with us and nearly lost their ears into the bargain?’
‘We can’t go back to the circus even if we wanted to,’ said Scooter. ‘Even if the Buffonis get clean away before Sussworth knows which way they’ve gone he’ll still find them in the end and if he finds us with ’em it’ll be snip, snip, snip.’
‘Snip, snip, snip is right,’ said Ninch. ‘I tell you it wasn’t us who gave you away.’
Napoleon did not look convinced. ‘Someone did,’ he said, ‘and if I find out who it was I’ll skewer him up. I say this: we need a new rule until this is over, the rule of Aristotle Road.’
‘What rule?’ said Stonks.
Napoleon looked round the room. ‘This rule,’ he said. ‘No one goes anywhere on their own. There’s always got to be two or three together.’ He straightened his arm and pointed a finger at Ninch and Scooter. ‘Especially them two; I don’t trust ’em.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ said Scooter, ‘we only just missed having our own ears done. Hanks would have too only Sussworth was called away to see a bloke from Scotland Yard. Hanks swore he’d clip us in the morning, then he threw us back in the cell.’
‘I don’t care if they nearly chopped yer head off,’ said Napoleon, the anger and impatience getting stronger in his voice. ‘You accept the rule or I’ll know what to think.’ He looked at the others. ‘It’s better than being shopped again, and whatever you say someone shopped us, you can’t deny that. Who agrees?’
Bingo raised his hand immediately. He was Napoleon’s special friend. ‘I do,’ he said.
Then Knocker raised his hand and, slowly, everyone in the room followed suit, even Ninch and Scooter. The Aristotle Rule was adopted.
All that day the rain slanted across the sky and fell on the black slate roofs and black tarred roads of the city. It fell on the dead gardens of winter; it fell into the chimneys. It ran down the grimy windows of the shops and across the pavements and into the gutters. The drains and sewers of London were full of rain water and all this time the Borribles rested behind the blank walls of Aristotle Road School. They were starving but they were safe. Not once did they hear a police siren, not once did they hear a caretaker. They just waited for the hours to pass and the daylight to fade. When it was dark again they would journey on towards Brixton and, they hoped, some food, even if it was only the scraps in dustbins.
Then it was night-time. Knocker stood and stretched. He went to the window and looked down at the street lights and the cars passing in Bedford Road. ‘We’ll give it until the pubs close,’ he said, ‘and then another hour after that. Might as well be as careful as we can. Sussworth took my map away but if I’ve got it straight that railway line over there will take us right into Brixton … It’s only a couple of miles off.’
On the stroke of midnight the Adventurers left the school, crossing the road one by one and moving like shadows into a builder’s yard that lay deep in darkness. On the far side of it they came up against a steep embankment which they climbed to the railway line. They halted there and listened; all was quiet and invisible, there was no moon and no stars.
‘Tread very careful,’ said Knocker, ‘and keep yer ears open. I never saw a timetable for this line so if you hear a train coming get off the rails sharpish, and don’t step on the live one by mistake; you’ll be burnt to a crisp if you do.’
It was not a long march to Brixton, just about two or three miles as Knocker had said. On either side of the railway lay long rows of tear-raced houses where not one light shone. All was asleep and the weight of sleep bore down on the whole city, and nothing moved in the backyards save for the feral cats stalking mice across the mounds of rubbish.
Halfway through the march the railway line dropped to street level and the Adventurers passed under an old iron footbridge which joined one dead end street to another. It had been scrawled over in white chalk and paint and its side had been covered in wire to prevent children throwing bricks down on to passing trains.
Twilight stopped for a moment to read some of the messages there and discovered a ‘Borribles rule, okay’ and an arrow pointing towards Brixton. ‘That’s good,’ said the Bangladeshi, ‘it means there are some Borribles round here after all.’
‘Yeah,’ said Bingo, ‘and let’s hope they turn out sweet and gentle, like the Wendles.’
It was about two in the morning when the Adventurers finally reached Brixton railway station and Knocker climbed on to a parapet to look down into the emptiness of Brixton Road. ‘It seems all right,’ he whispered. ‘Let’s get down there and find some food.’
After a short search the Borribles found the station entrance and scrambled without difficulty over the gate that barred it. They then found themselves at the top of two frights of stone stairs and having descended these they saw, by the light of a solitary and dismal lamp, that they were in a low railway arch that led to the streets.
Knocker told his companions to wait and crept to the end of the
tunnel and peered out. He could see no one; the street was empty of any human movement. All that remained of that day’s market was the deep litter strewn across the pavements. Knocker glanced up and read the road names: Atlantic Road, Electric Avenue. He beckoned to the others and they joined him on the edge of the deserted street. A car went by on the main road but it wasn’t a police car.
tunnel and peered out. He could see no one; the street was empty of any human movement. All that remained of that day’s market was the deep litter strewn across the pavements. Knocker glanced up and read the road names: Atlantic Road, Electric Avenue. He beckoned to the others and they joined him on the edge of the deserted street. A car went by on the main road but it wasn’t a police car.
‘What we’ve got to do,’ suggested Knocker, ‘is have a quick butcher’s at this rubbish and see if we can’t find something to eat, just to keep us going.’
There was fruit aplenty in that market and a couple of damaged loaves. Some dented tins of beans had been thrown into a cardboard box and there was a crate of overripe bananas that had not been sold. There was a feast there, almost more than the twelve runaways could carry.
‘Come on,’ said Bingo, who was now acting as lookout, ‘we’ve got more’n enough. Quick, let’s go down here.’ Always light on his feet the Battersea Borrible led his friends into Electric Lane, away from the market area and towards what he hoped would be quieter streets, streets with a few derelict houses in them maybe, and a Borrible or two with a cup of tea ready.
Just as he was enjoying these thoughts Bingo suddenly felt his feet kicked away from underneath him. He was tipped heavily to the ground and a dirty cloth went over his mouth. Bingo fought but there were too many holding him now. A knee hit him in the kidneys, hard, and all the breath left his body and he let it go slack.
‘You keep real quiet, Honky,’ said a West Indian voice, ‘otherwise I’ll tear your head off.’
Bingo did as he was told; he could do nothing else. He heard the sounds of rushing feet, a few cries and even the noises of a few blows, then there was complete silence again. The voice above Bingo spoke once more.
‘I’m going to tie you up now, Honky, and if you struggle I’ll strangle you anyway and then rope you to a bus … They keeps stopping and starting all day.’
Once his arms had been tightly tied behind his back Bingo was dragged to his feet and pushed forward. He could see that he was surrounded
by four or five figures; their faces were black and blended with the night. Beyond them shapes moved indistinctly in the darkness. He heard a cry followed by a blow.
by four or five figures; their faces were black and blended with the night. Beyond them shapes moved indistinctly in the darkness. He heard a cry followed by a blow.
‘Why don’t you leave us alone?’ said Bingo. ‘We ain’t harming anyone, we’re just travelling through.’
‘That’s right,’. said the same voice as before. ‘You’ll be travelling through so fast your feet won’t hit the ground, but every other bit of you will.’ Bingo was struck between his shoulder blades. He swore and he stumbled. He heard Napoleon shout, threatening someone with violence. There came the sound of a blow and Napoleon was silent.
The captives were not taken far. Before they reached the end of Electric Lane they were made to turn back into Electric Avenue. Here they passed beneath an arcaded walk of Victorian design, the arcade being held aloft with delicate cast iron columns. About a hundred yards into the arcade, at the centre of a covered market and between two shopfronts, was a narrow entrance, locked, barred and chained. At least it appeared to be. In fact there was a panel in the face of a heavy door and that panel swivelled on hinges to allow the passage of one person at a time, provided he crawled through on his hands and knees.
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