Walls Came Tumbling Down

I

The dark man stooped, his arms opened wide, like a goalkeeper poised to catch the ball. He danced from side to side. In any other circumstances, it might have seemed comical, but the tunnel gaped in blackness behind him and a sense of watchfulness emanated from every hidden crevice. The man stared. He could have been any age between 40 and 60; the lines on his face were etched deep with grime. His grin was a grimace.

From across the tracks came the distracting sounds of another man unable to stay quiet. They came as a constant stream of hums, unintelligible exclamations, mews and disconnected verbalised noises, only occasionally punctuated by random words and phrases like 'come on' and 'so yes.' It all echoed from the wide walls, emphasising the unseen vastness, adding to the surreal nature of their surroundings. Nothing here felt welcoming. There was not the adventure of a newly discovered pothole nor the camaraderie of human society. For the second time in two days, Fenian felt uneasy underground. The unspoken threat was palpable and it permeated all.

"I'm hurt." He hated the way that his voice sounded now; small, weak and not at all adequate to meet the disconcerting visage of the man in his path. "I don't mean anyone any harm. I just need a quiet corner to hide out." There was no discernible lessening in the antagonism from the darkness. The stooping man was statuesque in his barring of the ways. The chattering man spoke on. They weren't alone. Fenian's senses tingled under the scrutiny; his imagination furnished knives being sharpened in readiness. Suddenly those legends of cannibalism seemed wholly realistic.

The 'mole people' under New York City were semi-famous. There had been books and articles written about them, not to mention the film. One of their graffiti artists had been featured in the Metropolitan Art Gallery. There was a whole subterranean city down there, populating the subway tunnels, sewers and utility access shafts. But they were under New Jersey too and Fenian had just run into one of their gangs.

"Please."


II

Hal took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the Wammy's House infirmary. There were curtains closed around the bed where they were working on Luigi. Lauren and Century sat white-faced, holding hands, in the cubicle beyond. Century's head was bowed, an oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose, while Lauren half-lay, half-sat, casting anxious looks at Salvo. He rocked backwards and forwards, with his little boy in his arms, while Chrissie lay still with her eyes closed. No-one was saying anything. There was nothing left to say.

"How is he?" Hal asked tightly. Her attention had been focused solely on the younger children, who were now settled in the common room with several members of staff. Mrs Carnegie had brought in some cupcakes in need of icing, and that had occupied some of the little ones. "Has there been any news?"

Salvo spoke softly, "They've lost him and brought him back three times." He shook his head. "It's not looking good. Nitrite toxicity."

Hal looked pained. She stared into space, at a spot about three feet off the floor-tiles, and tried to make sense of it all. That things had spiralled out of control was obvious, but how it had happened, and whether they had prevented worse, wasn't so cut and dried. She didn't know if she should be speaking first with Near or Mello, but she was sure that one of them had already worked it out. So, perhaps, had all of these geniuses in the room with her. She flashed a glance at each in turn, but they all just seemed as drained and shell-shocked as she was.

Hal made to speak, but Salvo beat her to it. "Has anyone contacted Deontic?"

"I called her first thing this morning, before..." Hal indicated the cubicle. They listened to the activity going on behind the curtain. Tension and pathos stung the atmosphere in that room. "I need to call her again."

Lauren whispered, "I think Linda was doing that."

"Where is Linda?" Hal looked around, in case she'd missed her.

Salvo rubbed his son's back. "She needed to be alone."

"Is she alright?" The way that things were going, Hal worried about any Wammy alumni being unsupervised. The only reply was Salvo's shrug. Hal had thought that the baby was asleep, but he turned his head suddenly to peep at her with huge, brown eyes. Salvo shifted his grasp on the boy, so that Luleka could see the rest of the room better. Hal attempted a tight smile, as an automatic reaction to reassure him. She vaguely wondered what he made of it. "What are you planning?" She addressed Salvo, but looked at Century and Lauren too, so that they knew it was a general query.

Lauren replied, quietly, "Who's asking?"

"Pardon?"

"Was that a polite question or have you been sent to ask?"

Hal frowned at her. "That's a very paranoid outlook."

Salvo gave a wry smile. "Paranoia is a very healthy stance in this place."

They were all watching her now. Even Century's eyes had lifted to fix upon her face, though Chrissie slept on. Hal paused. It was disconcerting to know that minds like these were assessing her; or maybe she was also reading too much into things. "You don't think I'd want to know? I am Watari." She kept her tone level. "I also care."

Lauren pressed sharply on, "What's happening with Matt? And Mello? Is Matt free to go home?"

"You need to concentrate on getting well yourself." Hal replied, a little more curtly than she'd intended. She was tired too, not only physically but emotionally. She hated the feeling that they were all trying to position her like a pawn on a chessboard. "I can't say any more."

Salvo eyed her carefully, "So it's no longer down to the committee?"

"What?" Hal blinked. "With respect, why are you asking me this?" She was aware that she was speaking a touch too loudly, when there was a real life and death situation going on just behind that curtain. She lowered her voice. "Has something been said here?"

"You mean beyond Near's little stunt?" Salvo countered. "It has implications."

"I can't speculate on that."

"Are you Near's woman or working for us all?"

Hal grit her teeth in exasperation. "I'll let you know when it's clarified for me." The silence was loaded. "Are you blaming me for this mess?"

Lauren gave a tiny nod. "You thought it was a good idea to arrest Matt."

Hal stared incredulously at her statement. This was in danger of turning into a slanging match and that would not help those trying to save Luigi's life. She gestured surrender, though the rest of her body language screamed offence. She swallowed to maintain a calm tone and said brusquely, "Salvo, maybe you can represent your peers and we could discuss this in my office."

"I'd rather stay with Chrissie." Salvo replied.

Hal nodded. She just wished everything could be aired, so that they all knew where the dangers lay. "I'm going to check back on my wards. The offer is on the table."

III

At Deontic's command, the detonator was set. A muted boom shook the ground beneath her feet and smoke issued out from the unseen gap in the cliff-face behind the foliage. She was watching from the bridge, while a team of experts did the actual demolition, under the instruction of a man named Bob Crieves. He was, she had been reliably informed by Hal, one of Watari's handful of European operatives - a fixer and a collector. Deontic strongly suspected that he had been the one to bring Century to Wammy's House. He spoke fluent Welsh.

There was a rumbling, a loud shifting of earth and rock, which sent alarm bells roaring through her senses. She watched a whole section of trees seem to shift several feet, then settle. That must have been heard in Aberystwyth. They would almost certainly have the heddlu rushing up here with their sirens blaring. Deontic lifted her telephone to summon the powers of Watari against any intervention. But everything seemed still again, except for the shrieking fury of the birds above the canopy.

She listened. A couple of men were yelling things in Welsh down below, but no sirens. Her 'phone rang anyway. It was Bob. "D, the water is pouring back into the chasm."

Deontic leaned over the railing, trying to see for herself. She could hear the rush of water, but not at the level that she had anticipated. "How high is it?"

"Three or four feet."

"Are you sure that the river entrance to the caverns is completely sealed?"

Bob hesitated. "Got men going in there right now to see."

"Thank you." Deontic hung up and looked at her watch. Ideally, she wanted to be out of Wales by noon. It was already eleven. She began to walk back up the road towards the ruins of the manor house. There wasn't any discernible difference in the atmosphere of the place. She hadn't expected that there would be. Kiana would know, but then she wasn't answering her telephone. That all slotted into place now too. Deontic hoped that Near would just find Fenian quickly, so that she could wipe the floor with him.

In the meantime, she had to determine her own options. She had Mello and Matt's trailer attached to the back of her BMW, though it was empty. It might make more sense to arrange for Bob to transport that to Wammy's House, while she drove to Harwich and caught the ferry home. Get as far away from the battlefield as possible.

Deontic was nearly at the track, when her 'phone rang again. The caller display indicated a re-route through the Watari operator. It was an Old English font Li. She answered the call. "Yes Linda?"

On the other end of the line, Linda told her.

IV

The 'phone was ringing in Hal's office, as she hurried through the door to pick it up. Very few people had this number and she felt her heart beating just that little bit faster, as she lifted the receiver to her ear. "Watari speaking."

There was a beat where nothing was said, then a crackle and a soft Irish brogue, "Who is this?"

Hal paused, "Kiana? You are through to Hal."

"Hal." It was Kiana. She sounded more sure of herself now. "Right. Of course it is." Bitterness and anxiety erupted into her tone. "Liam once told me that one day people might come for him. He'd be bundled away by mysterious agents and I'd never see him again." She tutted, falling over her words, "And you know what? I thought he was talking fecking bollocks. One of his bloody stories! And what do you know? Here we are and now it's happened."

"Kiana."

"He showed me a card, in his wallet, with his name on it and this number. If he's ever found unconscious in a ditch or something, this number can be called and someone would come for him." She snorted a humourless laugh. "It was you. This fucking number is your number. I memorised it just to get hold of you!"

"Is this line secure?"

Kiana really did laugh this time. "Are you fecking kidding me? I'm through to his kidnappers!"

"You have to listen to me." Hal spoke quickly. "You are in more danger than you think. Your government chose L. We can get you out."

"What the fuck?"

"Where are you, Kiana?"

Disbelief coursed through the Irish woman's voice, "Like I'd fucking tell you that! Where is he?" She barely waited for an answer, before gushing on. "You hurt him and fuck knows I'll..."

"We haven't got him." Hal interjected urgently. "Listen to me. Listen to your instinct. You told me on that beach in Aber that you always trust your instinct. I'm here to help you and you are in danger. Is this line secure?"

"Where is he?"

Hal sighed. This was shaping up to be a very long day. "Why did Fenian go to the Irish government?"

Kiana snapped, "Because he was terrified. Matt was setting him up. And he was right to be scared! Look what's happened!"

"We're not the bad guys, Kiana. I promise you."

"Sure! So it's our lot! Fine!" The line crackled again. Hal wondered just how many people were listening in. Kiana's voice softened slightly, "Hal, for old times' sake, will you not just tell me if he's still alive?"

Hal closed her eyes. "I wish I could tell you. But we haven't got him." She was watching the clock, timing the call. "Are you somewhere safe?"

But Kiana had hung up.