it for emergencies."
"Why wouldn't you?" Jazz asked, turning to Harry.
He shook his head. "Too open. Can't heat it with a fire or a space heater. Never any direct light.
Hard enough to keep the electric working. And once every few years they let a bunch of professors come
down here and take pictures for their studies on the lost Underground."
Stevie appeared.
"They'd just finished building it when the war started," he said, strolling over to stand by Jazz. He
gazed up at the ceiling. "The track was meant to connect two other lines, with this as the axis. Crown jewel,
all of that. Then the bombing started. Used to be a ministry building up above. The whole thing came down,
collapsed onto the station, and the walls on the stairs caved in. The Germans buried the place and nobody
ever bothered to excavate."
"Why not?" Jazz asked.
Harry laughed. "Did a bit of research on it myself, once upon a time. See, on paper they said it was
too dangerous. The ground above's unstable, they said. Have a look at the crack up there."
He pointed to the ceiling, and for the first time Jazz no-ticed the jagged line that cut across the ceiling
on the far side, beyond the last chandelier.
"But it's stable enough they built a hotel on it," Harry continued. "Ask me, I'd say they just wanted to
forget the place existed. After the First World War, the ministry never spent a penny rebuilding the military.
When Hitler came to power, they hadn't the money or the army to fight him prop-erly, had to beg and
borrow to make a go of it. The last thing they wanted the people to see was how much money they spent
on vanity and opulence. Bombs burying this place was their good luck. They weren't in any rush to dig it up
again."
As Jazz listened to the tale and gazed around, studying the station, others moved out of the darkness
down on the tracks and emerged from behind marble pillars and coun-ters. The grand staircase had
collapsed long ago, and the steps were strewn with rubble. From the shadows there, Gob and Leela
appeared.
"Mr. F., you all right?" Marco asked, as he and Faith ap-proached.
Bill and Switch stood by Stevie, all of them studying Harry.
"Gather round, pets. We've a lot of work to do and ought to do it quick."
Jazz noticed Stevie staring at her, but when she caught him, he looked away.
"Now, then," Harry went on. "Things have taken a turn, haven't they? Enemies have found us out,
and they may be back. We're going to have to move, of course. Don't like it one bit, and I'm sure you don't
either. But so it goes. I'm a bit bunged up, but I'll be all right. Stevie and I picked out a new place more than
a year ago, just in case. We'll show you the way, and then you'll have to go back to the shelter and start
moving our goods. Watch for trouble. Careful not to be seen. Anyone comes, anything starts, you run, and
what-ever you do, don't lead them back to our new home, right?"
They all nodded and grunted their agreement.
"First, we've got another task," Harry said. "A terrible task, indeed."
"Hang on," Leela said. "Who were the bastards? Got to tell us that much. They weren't police and
they weren't building no new tracks or anything. So why'd they bother with us?"
Harry had wiped most of the blood from his face, but now his expression darkened. He lowered his
head, face in shadow.
"The mayor's men, pet. Bone-breakers and life-takers," he said. "Running for reelection, isn't he? The
nasty bas-tards didn't say as much, but I'm no fool. I've been reading the papers, seeing the signs. Mayor
Bromwell said as he was gonna clean up the city, stop the thieving, protect British subjects and tourists
alike. I knew we'd have to be careful, but I never thought they'd come down the hole after us."
As much as Harry seemed to believe it, Jazz could not. They had come down here searching for her.
Someone must have seen her on the upside and followed her down, told the Uncles where she was. Jazz
still did not know why her mother had been murdered, but obviously they still wanted her dead as well.
She would have to tell Harry, but now wasn't the time. Not with all of the others there.
"Bromwell's corrupt as they come," Harry added, but he didn't say it the way a man in a pub might
complain about city government. It seemed more personal than that. "He sent these men down to clean us
up. But we'll get him, pets.
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