The Ghosts of London Page 8

  "What about the water system across the city?" Nicholls asks. "The prime minister himself has been onto me about it, man. Millions of people are complaining that all they get from their taps is filthy brown water. I had to have a sanitizer installed at my fucking apartment. The peasants are starting to revolt, and if the prime minister thinks he can save his own skin by throwing us to the wolves, I have no doubt he'll do it".

  "I know," John replies, trying not to get flustered. "I don't have any concrete answers for you right now. Something's not working properly in the system and -" Before he can finish, there's a loud grinding sound from outside the window. Hurrying across the control room, John peers out into the darkness and sees the silhouettes of several of his men running from the hub container. "What now?" he whispers.

  "What was that?" Nicholls asks, sounding increasingly annoyed. "Please, tell me that you've got the situation under control".

  "I..." John starts to say, before the main alarm starts to ring.

  "What the hell is that?" Nicholls shouts.

  "It's the warning system," John replies, turning to see that the fault locator screen is flashing several different panels at once. "I swear to God," he continues, "it's like something's just ripping the entire dam apart from the inside. Suddenly there are tolerance failures, structural integrity issues, damaged transit pipes... There's no way this can be happening".

  "Is it sabotage?"

  "Impossible," John replies. "The entire place is bullet-proof. I designed the facility myself".

  "There's a total of fifteen billion dollars riding on this project," Nicholls replies firmly, "and that's fifteen billion dollars of other people's money. I want you to get this thing under control by sunrise, or I'm going to have you out of there and I'll bring in someone from Dubai to get it fixed. I'm sorry, John, but there's no room in this fucking project for sentimentality".

  "I designed this thing," John says as the floor starts to shake. "No-one else can fix it. It's my dam".

  "Then prove your worth," Nicholls replies. "Jesus Christ, the pipes in my apartment are starting to rattle. What are you trying to do with that thing, blow the entire city's water supply? It's like the whole fucking place is about to explode!"

  "Give me an hour," John replies. "Just one hour. I can get it under control, but I need time to figure out the real cause of the problem. Two dozen separate failures can't occur simultaneously. Somewhere, one root cause is behind all of this".

  "Fix it," Nicholls says firmly, before the line goes dead.

  Standing alone in the control room, John stares at the various diagnostic screens. He knows every inch of the entire dam, but he still can't work out what could be causing the problem. He knows that he doesn't have long to fix it, but for a moment he feels as if he can't move, can't even think. Deep below his feet, the core of the dam starts to rumble with fresh intensity, as if the crisis is moving up a gear; somewhere in the distance, there's the sound of a large quantity of water starting to flow through one of the main transit pipes; up above, the lights start to flicker. Finally, John does something he hasn't done since he was a little kid:

  He closes his eyes and prays for a miracle.

  Part Three

  Echoes of You

  Prologue

  He opens his eyes, suddenly wide awake in the pitch-black room.

  Glancing to his left, he realizes that his mobile phone is about to ring. He waits, but nothing happens. Still, he knows that it's coming, and that all he has to do is wait a little longer. After a few seconds, he feels a faint shiver in his bones, followed by -

  Suddenly the phone starts flashing, and a fraction of a second later the ring-tone starts up.

  Reaching over, he grabs the phone and sees that an old friend is trying to get in touch. He waits for a moment, keen to give the impression that he has other things to do apart from answer calls, but finally he hits the button and places the phone against his ear.

  "What is it?" he asks. "I'm busy."

  "You remember what we talked about earlier, Robinson?" the old man asks.

  "We talked about a lot of things earlier."

  "The dam, man. Don't play games with me. We sat in the pub and talked about the new dam for hours. Please, tell me you haven't decided to forget."

  "What about it?"

  "It looks like I was right all along," the old man continues. "I've been getting worrying reports for the past couple of days, and then there are all those claims about people being pulled into the water. Something hasn't been right for a while now, and I think all the ducks just got lined up in a row. Our siphoned data from their main control room is showing a whole lot of problems."

  Sitting up, Robinson blinks a couple of times as his eyes adjust to the darkness. He can just about make out the dark blue rectangle of the window on an opposite wall, and in the distance he can hear sirens. The sound of sirens isn't particularly unusual in London, of course, but he can tell that these particular sirens are converging from all over the city, from all directions, which means they've been sent from multiple dispatch locations. At the very least, something big is happening out there, and yet he's sure he'd have noticed if there had been any explosions. This is something completely different. Ghosts are stirring.

  "Robinson," the voice rasps. "Are you still there?"

  "What's going on?" he asks, getting out of bed and walking naked over to the window. He parts the curtains and peers out, but all he can see is the dark city and its thousands of sparkling lights. Scanning the horizon, he finally notices some flashing blue and red lights on either side of the thick black line that runs through the heart of the city, and finally he realizes that something's happening at the river.

  "We just got readings back from three separate monitoring stations," the old man continues. "Water levels are down at the estuary, and up toward Reading. We're only talking a couple of feet so far, but it's definitely happening and it's accelerating. We've also had similar readings across the city, at various canals and tributaries. Do you realize what that means?"

  "It means there's something wrong with the dam," Robinson replies, before a distant boom causes the window to vibrate. "I think I just heard it," he adds. "Have you managed to get in touch with the contractors yet?"

  "They're onsite," the old man replies, "but I don't have much confidence in them. Every time I speak to the man in charge, I'm fobbed off with some other excuse. I managed to get into their mail server just now, and judging by the messages they're exchanging internally, it's pretty clear that they don't have a clue what to do next. They don't even know what's causing the problem, and every time they think they're on top of one thing, two more spring up somewhere else."

  "Did they give any specifics?"

  "I don't think they can. They're fighting a losing battle."

  "And how do they feel about a little external interference?" Robinson asks, switching on a lamp before heading to the closet and pulling the door open to reveal a row of neatly-pressed and hung suits. To the casual observer, they might seem to be identical to one another, but Robinson is keenly aware of their subtle differences, and as he tries to choose one, he realizes that he's really not sure what kind of mood he's in yet.

  "They're very much resistant to the idea of anyone trying to help," the old man continues. "I've been trying to get connected to someone who's actually in charge of the place, but they just put me on hold and tell me to call back some other time. It's infuriating, but I doubt anyone below the prime minister could get a direct line right now."

  "He's not going to bother," Robinson mutters, feeling the shoulder of one of the suits before dismissing it as too stiff and trying another. "There's too much money involved, and too many political strings being pulled."

  "We've got full access to their database," the old man replies. "It's not much, but at least it means we can check out their schematics and look for the source of the problem. Nothing so far, though. It's like..."

  Robinson waits. "Like what?" he asks eventual
ly.

  "It's like something's just got into the system and started breaking everything it can find."

  "Then I guess I'll have to be particularly charming," Robinson replies, pulling out a suit and holding it up to the light for a moment before laying it on the bed. "It'll take me half an hour to get ready, and then I'll head down to the site and see what I can do. They'll probably tell me to bugger off, but that's okay; all that matters is that I open a line of communication and get some kind of idea of the scale of the problem."

  "And then?"

  Robinson pauses for a moment as he contemplates the possibilities. "And then I'll fix it," he adds, before cutting the call and tossing his phone onto the bed. In the distance, there's another loud boom, and the entire apartment shudders. Whatever those fools are doing with their dam, he figures that they've had more than enough time to get it fixed. Sighing, he grabs some underwear from a nearby drawer and starts to get dressed.

  One of these days, he reminds himself, this city is going to be the death of him again.

  Chapter One

  Katie

  "You'll be okay with us," Simeon says as he leads me out of the tube station and back out into the late-night London rain. "I've got this little collective thing going on, see, where people kinda help each other out. I like to think of it as a kind of bright light in the middle of an otherwise dark and unfriendly city."

  Keeping close to the wall in an attempt to avoid as much of the rain as possible, I watch the back of his head as he keeps talking. It's been a few hours since I met up with him again in the cafe, and he's barely stopped talking at all. In fact, I'm starting to feel distinctly uneasy, since the more he talks, the more I worry that he's trying to cover up his true intentions. I swear to God, if I had anywhere else to go tonight, I'd just turn and run. As things stand, I guess I just have to trust that he's not some kind of dodgy asshole, and also trust in my abilities to look after myself.

  Reaching into my coat pocket, I double-check that I still have the knife I stole from the cafe. It's not particularly sharp, but at least it's something, and I feel better for knowing that at least I've got a weapon I can use if I need to defend myself. I'm not some naive kid.

  "Not long now," he says with a grin, glancing back at me. "We'll get you -"

  Before he can finish, there's a loud boom in the distance and the windows of a nearby shop rattle for a moment. Simeon and I both turn, as does everyone else around us, but there's no sign of anything happening.

  "That was a bit of a big one," Simeon says nervously. "I almost thought -"

  Another boom strikes, and everyone stands still, as if they're too scared to move.

  "It's probably nothing," he continues, even though I can tell he's worried. "It's probably just a bus backfiring or..." His voice trails off, and it's clear that he knows damn well that the sound was not a bus backfiring. "This is a big city," he adds eventually. "Lots of people, lots of stuff... Plenty to go wrong."

  "Not again," says a woman standing nearby. "Not terrorists. Anything else, please..."

  "People online are saying it came from the new dam," says another woman, staring at her phone. "It wasn't an explosion, it was more like something broke."

  In the distance, there's another loud boom.

  "That fucking dam," Simeon says, grabbing my arm and pulling me along the street. "Come on, we should get going before it starts pissing it down even more."

  "What's going on with the dam?" I ask.

  "It's this new billion pound project that supposed to make the Thames more efficient," he replies, glancing over his shoulder as if he's worried that someone might be following us. "What they mean by making it more efficient, I don't have a fucking clue. Some knob-end in some fucking office somewhere has obviously figured out a way to swing a bunch of money behind some pointless program, and I guarantee you that the fucker's raking it in while the rest of us have to put up with all this bullshit. That's the problem with this country. There's plenty of money, but it goes to all the wrong fucking people."

  "It's not supposed to make such a loud noise, though," I reply, "is it?"

  "Fuck knows," he mutters, leading me across the road. "I doubt it, but nothing'd surprise me anymore, if you know what I mean. All I really know for sure is that ever since they turned it on for a bunch of tests last week, the water coming from all the taps has been fucking brown. They keep saying it's healthy, but I don't buy that for one minute. I mean, what's making it brown? There's not many brown liquids I wanna be drinking, yeah?"

  I smile politely, but in the distance there's the sound of sirens.

  "I guess this is a big change from where you grew up, yeah?" he continues. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying you're naive or anything, but you don't seem like the kinda girl who grew up in Tower fucking Hamlets. You're from somewhere a little more rural, aren't you?"

  "I guess so," I mutter as more sirens join the distant chorus, some of them sounding particularly urgent.

  "What did you see out your bedroom window?" he continues. "Cows and shit like that?"

  "Not quite."

  "At least it's not terrorists," he says, leading me down a dark side street. "Terrorists make this fucking city go absolutely fucking mental. I don't like all those armed police you get on the streets. If it's just the dam, hopefully no-one's gonna get too upset. They'll just pour more public money into the damn thing, pun intended, and eventually some wanker'll get it running." He stops suddenly next to an inconspicuous, faded-looking blue door. As he fumbles with his keys, he smiles at me. "You look nervous," he says after a moment.

  "Me?" I pause. "I'm not nervous. Just tired. And, you know, worried about my sister."

  "How long's it been since you heard from her?"

  "A while. Not since before Christmas."

  "Your family's fucked up too, eh?"

  I nod.

  "Join the club. I haven't heard from any of my lot in years. Don't get me wrong, family's important, but the flip-side is that if you make an effort and it still isn't working out, you've gotta let it go. There's no point hanging about with a bunch of wankers just 'cause you've got shared blood. If you keep banging your head against a stone wall, you'll end up with nothing more than a headache, or worse. Sometimes, you've got gotta strike out on your own and leave the fuckers flailing in the wind."

  "My sister and I get on," I tell him. "We're very similar. As soon as she knows I'm here, she'll help me out."

  He smiles, as if he finds my confidence funny.

  "She will," I say firmly.

  "I'm sure she's fine," he replies. "I've got connections, yeah? I can put the word out, see if anyone knows anything. No promises, mind, but there's a good chance I can turn something up. And if I can't, there's other ways to see if she's about, although I should warn you -" He pauses to slip the key into the lock. "London's the kind of city where someone can really disappear. I hate it when people get all romantic about the place, but this is a fact you've gotta face. Of course you're gonna look for your sister, but you also need to set down some roots for yourself. If you're gonna stay, that is. Are you gonna stay?"

  I stare at him. The truth is, I already decided before I even arrived in London that this would be my new life, but Rachel's disappearance has made me waver. If I had another way out, an easy way out, I'd probably take it, but my options are pretty limited: I can't go home, and if I'm going to try to make it on my own, I should at least hang around in the city and try to find Rachel.

  "Yes," I say eventually. "Totally. I'm staying."

  "Then I can help you," he replies, pushing the door open before stepping back to let me go first. "Welcome to my humble abode. People like us, Katie, we've gotta stick together. Someone helped me when I first arrived, and I've helped people in return since. It might seem a little scary, but I promise you, eventually you'll get set up on your feet. But you need to give yourself a time-frame for this search of yours, and if you don't find your sister in, say, a month, you've gotta focus on your own lif
e. Does that make sense?"

  I nod, even though deep inside I'm convinced that his little pep talk is irrelevant: I will find Rachel, and it probably won't even take me too long. After all, she has to reply to my email eventually.

  "Come on, then," he says, just as there's another boom in the distance. "That fucking dam," he mutters as he takes my arm and leads me into the building's dark interior. "I'm sorry we haven't got any fancy trimmings around the joint, but you'll soon learn to make do."

  I let him lead me through the gloomy space, which looks to be some kind of rundown, half-demolished old shop. It's hard to believe that anyone could actually live like this, with scrappy old furniture dotted about and constant drips of cold rainwater, but as we reach the next halway, I realize that I can hear female voices coming from upstairs. Simeon steps aside, clearly expecting me to head up the stairs, and with a faint smile I realize that I've got no choice. Taking a deep breath, I start to make my way up to the next floor, all the while telling myself that this is only temporary. After a night here, maybe two at most, I'll have found Rachel and everything'll be okay again.

  Dust swirls in the air as I head upstairs, and beneath my feet, the boards creak loudly. It's almost as if no living soul has been in this place for years.

  Chapter Two

  Rachel

  Standing in the shadows, I listen to the sound of distant sirens, blaring above the hiss of the rain. God knows what's going on in this city, but I suppose it's probably terrorists again. They strike with relentless, dull monotony, but at least they give people something to talk about. It's like a long-running soap opera or some kind of reality TV show. As another boom sounds in the distance, I barely even blink. My eyes are fixed on the house on the other side of the street.