reckoned on where yer'd be headin if yer got the chance.'
I struggled to my feet and gaped at him, one elbow resting against the wall, every muscle in my body stiff. The German and the two girls were beginning to stir themselves, but I wasn't sure if they'd been following the conversation.
'How did you know which tunnel to find us in?' I asked the warden, curiosity overriding the tiredness.
'Like I says, I thought I knew where yer was headed. It was a chance, but yer struck lucky, son. Now then, yer got the strength to help your friends?'
I barely had the strength to stand upright, but I nodded anyway.
'Right, follow me.' He began climbing the stairs, boots noisy on the concrete.
'Who is he?' Cissie asked in a hushed voice as she used my arm to drag herself up.
'No idea,' I replied, giving her some help. 'But I could kiss his little fat head.'
The German helped Muriel to her feet and she caught my anxious look.
'I'll be okay,' she said quickly, her voice strained. 'Once I get into better air I'll be fine.'
'You lot comin?'
We could only see the glow of the lamp shining down the stairs, the corridor we were in now darkened, full of our own shadows, and without another word we set off after the warden, the girls behind me, Stern following at the rear. The old guy was waiting for us by another door at the top of the stairs, this one also made of iron.
'What is this place?' I asked when I reached him.
'Civil Defence shelter. There's a whole complex of plannin rooms on the other side of this door, all underground, too deep for any bombs to reach. They never counted on the poison though, never thought anythin could touch 'em down 'ere. All very hush-hush and all bloody useless.'
'If it was so secret how did you find it?'
'It was on my beat, son. As a warden it was my job to make sure none of the street entrances was blocked.'
He peered over my shoulder to make sure we were all together, then twisted the handle and pushed open the door. It was heavy, judging by the effort he put into it.
I touched his arm, moving closer. 'You said you knew where I was making for. I'd like to know how.'
My hand stayed on his arm and he looked down at it, then up at me. 'I know where your base is, so it stood to reason you'd use the Tube line going back to the Aldwych, which is near the hotel you've been usin. I've watched yer goin in and out of the place plenny a' times. Sometimes yer disappear for a while, but yer always come back to it. Yer like yer bit of luxury, don't yer?' He even gave a little chortle.
'You've watched me?'
Any humour vanished from his broad, ruddy face. 'Yeah, I've watched yer, son. And I know what yer do.' He turned away, but not before I'd caught the unease in his eyes.
Hoke?' Cissie was pressing against me, her breathing shaky, coming in gasps. 'What are you two
'Forget it. Let's just concentrate on getting outta here.' I took her hand and surprisingly -I thought she was still mad at me - she allowed me to guide her.
Once through the door we found ourselves inside another corridor, this one wider though, with openings along each side. Water covered its concrete floor and at the far end a carbide lamp burned, its white glare harsher than the warden's paraffin lamp but more effective. On the wall outside one of the open doorways was a yellowing poster, an upper corner drooping over, and as I passed by I saw there were two pictures of Adolf Hitler on it, front and profile, WANTED writ large at the top, smaller headline type explaining why.
FOR MURDER ... it said. FOR KIDNAPPING . . . FOR THEFT AND ARSON. It should've added FOR WORLD GENOCIDE. Our breeze caused the opposite corner to curl over so that the paper folded and the mad
I took a peek through a doorway and saw a plain square room inside, pipes running round the walls close to the ceiling. One of the smaller pipes was leaking in a couple of places, thin jets of water arcing onto the bare floor. The only furniture was an iron table with four straight-backed chairs around it; a black telephone sat on the tabletop. It was a relief to see there were no human remains in there.
Other rooms were similar but with more furniture; two or three tables, green filing cabinets and cupboards. The pipes ran through every room, and there were more leaks, some pretty bad. There was another stairway at the end of the corridor, broader than the last and turning back on itself as it rose to the next levels. We used its iron handrail to drag ourselves upwards, the warden urging us on and getting mighty agitated with the ladies for holding us back. We'd just reached the next level when an explosion beyond a set of doors to our left shook the walls.
The warden clung to the stair rail until the world had settled down a little. 'It's the gas cylinders!' he shouted at me accusingly, as if it were my fault, I'd arranged the whole thing. 'They're kept 'ere for emergency power and now your bloody fire's got to them!'
My bloody fire? Yeah, sure. But you had to wonder what kind of genius built an underground bunker vulnerable to explosions
'Which way do we go?' I asked as Cissie sank down next to me. Muriel stood with her back resting against the wall, the German supporting her, his impatience to get moving plain in his quick-shifting eyes.
'Upwards!' the warden shouted back at me. 'There's sleepin quarters and plannin rooms on the next floor, and we can get out through there.'
'Doesn't this stairway lead to the street?'
'It does, yeah, but the buildin over the exit collapsed and blocked it a long while ago. Thank Gawd there're others.'
'No point in hanging 'round then, right?' I kept my voice calm - shouting would have only hurt my throat even more anyway.
'You're not wrong there, son.' He'd calmed down a little himself, but he still looked scared. Letting go of the rail he bustled round to the next flight of stairs.
'Potter. Albert Potter, ARP warden for the Kingsway and Strand area.' He seemed proud of the title and I almost expected a smart salute. He started climbing again, but I just caught his added remark.
'Can't say I'm pleased t'meet you at last'
My limp was getting worse as I followed him, but I knew I'd only bruised the ankle - anything more severe and I wouldn't have been walking at all by this time. But tiredness was slowing us all down, I guess only our last reserves of adrenaline keeping us going. I'd learned a lot about that during the war, because flying a Hurricane at more than 300 miles an hour with a couple of superior Me 109s on your tail, it's the old energy-juice that takes over, overrides the fatigue that comes with too many sorties and not enough sleep, keeps your brain razor-sharp, until maybe a Spitfire can get to you and cover your back. Even if you got shot up, it was the adrenaline pumping that got you through the shock, helped you function until you'd baled out. Yeah, I'd learned a lot about what adrenaline could do for you in times of crisis, and I also knew that eventually it dried up, it could only take you so far...
The German surprised me by drawing level and taking me by the elbow. 'Do you need help?' he asked.
His face was black with dirt - hell, all our faces were black. 'Cept the warden's - his was just getting redder by the second.
I paused just long enough to pull my arm away. Take care of the girl,' I told him, my voice low and full of warning. I climbed on, leaving him there, but he was close to me again, this time with an arm around Muriel's waist, her own arm over his shoulder. I let them go on past and then it was Cissie who was by my side.
'You're slowing down, Yank.'
'It's been a busy morning,' I managed.
Her teeth flashed through the dirt, and I appreciated the smile.
'If you need a shoulder to lean on...'
'You're not sore at me any more?'
'Anyone can make a mistake. Besides, if those Blackshirts are as nasty as you say-'
