now is to blend in in every single
way. You understand?’
The Ghost nodded, and water lapped at the harbour
wall as the sun poked its way into a new day.
19
Lost in the memory of his final morning in India,
The Ghost had almost walked past the house that acted as his meeting place with his handler.
Number 23 and 24 Leinster Gardens, Paddington,
looked just like any other house on the street, but what only a handful of people knew –
the neighbours, the builders, and, more pertinently, The Ghost and Ethan Frye – was that
the two houses were, in fact, false fronts built to hide a hole in the ground.
It had been Charles Pearson’s idea.
Constructing his railway he had come across an immediate problem, which was finding an engine
suitable for use underground. An ordinary steam engine with its usual emission would have
suffocated passengers and crew straightaway. Since it is unacceptable for railway operators to
kill their passengers, Pearson cast about for a solution. First he had the idea of dragging
carriages through the tunnels using cables, and then, when that proved impractical, came up with
a plan to use atmospheric pressure. That proved impractical too – though it was of course
great fodder for the city’s many satirists.
It was John Fowler who came to Pearson’s
rescue, in this as in so many aspects of the line. He had overseen the construction of an engine
where smoke and steam would be diverted into a tank behind the engine. The only troublewas that the smoke and steam would need to be released at some point, and
that was why number 23 and 24 Leinster Gardens, W 2, were set aside, so that the
engines from below could, quite literally, ‘let off steam’.
The opening of the Metropolitan line was still
over a year away, and it was here that The Ghost and Ethan Frye would meet.
‘How are you?’ said Ethan that night.
He had been sitting on the edge of the void, staring down to where timbers criss-crossed just
below his dangling boots.
The Ghost nodded but said nothing, a closed book.
He took a seat next to Ethan. His bare feet dangling next to the boots of his mentor, a great
darkness below them.
‘You will be pleased to know we are moving
to the next phase of the operation,’ said Ethan. ‘Matters are going to come to a
head. You will find yourself under scrutiny. I have no doubt whatsoever that you will be
followed and your credentials checked by our Templar friends. Are you confident your cover
remains absolutely secure?’
The Ghost pondered whether this was the time to
tell Ethan about Maggie and his unofficial guardian role at the tunnel. It was a conversation
he’d carried out in his head many times, imaginary explanations where he’d tell
Ethan that one thing had led to another and that he hadn’t intended to set himself apart,
just that he had been unable to stand by and allow injustice to prevail. And surely Ethan would
… Well, even if he didn’t approve, then he would certainly understand,
wouldn’t he? And after all, it wasn’t as though The Ghost were a recognizable public
hero, front-page news in the
Illustrated London News
.
But no. He kept his mouth
shut. He said nothing and walked willingly into the next phase of the plan.
‘Which is what?’ he asked.
Mischief lit his master’s eyes. It was a
look that The Ghost had come to love when he was a child in the security of Amritsar. Now,
staring down into the void with only uncertainty ahead of him, he wasn’t so sure.
‘You will need to write a letter to our
friend Mr Cavanagh. You can use your knowledge of Cavanagh to establish your credentials.
I’ll leave the details up to you. The important thing is that you tell Mr Cavanagh that he
has a traitor in his ranks and that you hope to curry favour with him by unveiling this
traitor.’
The Ghost nodded, his gaze fixed on the darkness
below. ‘I see,’ he said when Ethan had finished. ‘And what then?’
‘Wait for a body to be discovered at
way. You understand?’
The Ghost nodded, and water lapped at the harbour
wall as the sun poked its way into a new day.
19
Lost in the memory of his final morning in India,
The Ghost had almost walked past the house that acted as his meeting place with his handler.
Number 23 and 24 Leinster Gardens, Paddington,
looked just like any other house on the street, but what only a handful of people knew –
the neighbours, the builders, and, more pertinently, The Ghost and Ethan Frye – was that
the two houses were, in fact, false fronts built to hide a hole in the ground.
It had been Charles Pearson’s idea.
Constructing his railway he had come across an immediate problem, which was finding an engine
suitable for use underground. An ordinary steam engine with its usual emission would have
suffocated passengers and crew straightaway. Since it is unacceptable for railway operators to
kill their passengers, Pearson cast about for a solution. First he had the idea of dragging
carriages through the tunnels using cables, and then, when that proved impractical, came up with
a plan to use atmospheric pressure. That proved impractical too – though it was of course
great fodder for the city’s many satirists.
It was John Fowler who came to Pearson’s
rescue, in this as in so many aspects of the line. He had overseen the construction of an engine
where smoke and steam would be diverted into a tank behind the engine. The only troublewas that the smoke and steam would need to be released at some point, and
that was why number 23 and 24 Leinster Gardens, W 2, were set aside, so that the
engines from below could, quite literally, ‘let off steam’.
The opening of the Metropolitan line was still
over a year away, and it was here that The Ghost and Ethan Frye would meet.
‘How are you?’ said Ethan that night.
He had been sitting on the edge of the void, staring down to where timbers criss-crossed just
below his dangling boots.
The Ghost nodded but said nothing, a closed book.
He took a seat next to Ethan. His bare feet dangling next to the boots of his mentor, a great
darkness below them.
‘You will be pleased to know we are moving
to the next phase of the operation,’ said Ethan. ‘Matters are going to come to a
head. You will find yourself under scrutiny. I have no doubt whatsoever that you will be
followed and your credentials checked by our Templar friends. Are you confident your cover
remains absolutely secure?’
The Ghost pondered whether this was the time to
tell Ethan about Maggie and his unofficial guardian role at the tunnel. It was a conversation
he’d carried out in his head many times, imaginary explanations where he’d tell
Ethan that one thing had led to another and that he hadn’t intended to set himself apart,
just that he had been unable to stand by and allow injustice to prevail. And surely Ethan would
… Well, even if he didn’t approve, then he would certainly understand,
wouldn’t he? And after all, it wasn’t as though The Ghost were a recognizable public
hero, front-page news in the
Illustrated London News
.
But no. He kept his mouth
shut. He said nothing and walked willingly into the next phase of the plan.
‘Which is what?’ he asked.
Mischief lit his master’s eyes. It was a
look that The Ghost had come to love when he was a child in the security of Amritsar. Now,
staring down into the void with only uncertainty ahead of him, he wasn’t so sure.
‘You will need to write a letter to our
friend Mr Cavanagh. You can use your knowledge of Cavanagh to establish your credentials.
I’ll leave the details up to you. The important thing is that you tell Mr Cavanagh that he
has a traitor in his ranks and that you hope to curry favour with him by unveiling this
traitor.’
The Ghost nodded, his gaze fixed on the darkness
below. ‘I see,’ he said when Ethan had finished. ‘And what then?’
‘Wait for a body to be discovered at
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