If you lived your life hiding out underground, you’d be understandably reluctant to venture onto the streets. The very prospect of breathing fresh air, and feeling sunshine on your face, would be a challenge in itself. For little Jenks Junior, descended from a band of refugees from London’s Great Fire, this is the first time he has ever experienced the city at ground level. Looking at him now, as he struggles not to drop down on all fours to move beside Yoshi, he might as well have come from another planet entirely. It isn’t just the way he sniffs the air in wonder, but the fact that under the hoodie that Yoshi has loaned him to hide his shining aura, he looks more like an alien.
Evolution is behind Jenks’ stunted height and loping gait, his thick pink skin, his vaulted ears, snub nose and searching nostrils. Three centuries back in time, the group of butchers and their wives who escaped the flames by descending into the sewers would not have looked so startling. But with each generation to be raised down there, in the dark, cold and cramped conditions that became their world, such developments were critical for survival of the community. Jenks’ milky, sightless eyes might be no use to him behind those shades that Yoshi has made him wear. But beneath the surface, a sharpened sense of smell and hearing are all that is required, as is the ability to move on hand and foot. Even without his wiry red hair, pulled tight into a curly tail, this wretch could easily be mistaken for a hog, not a human. Every time he draws breath to speak, those soot-cloaked lungs of his cause every word to come out as a squeal.
“Can we trust her?” he asks Yoshi now, as they cross the market street for Mae Lin’s dim sum house. “Jenks doesn’t want any trouble!”
“Mae Lin has a kind heart,” the boy replies, as the spry-looking woman appears at the door. “I’m surprised she knows her way around underground, but if it means we can find a way to take you home it has to be a risk worth taking.” Jenks grunts in response, struggling not to scrabble too much as instructed.
Yoshi had spent some time convincing the wretch that he was safe to return. The elder who had made Jenks’ life a misery, singling him out on account of his aura, could no longer hurt him. From now on, the boy explained, Jenks could be proud of his psychic sense. All he had to do to begin his journey home was hit the streets very briefly to reach Mae Lin. Jenks had no reason to fear being seen, Yoshi had assured him. This was London, after all. A melting pot for people from all walks of life. You could head out naked except for a traffic cone on your head and nobody would pay any attention. Yoshi is certainly brave enough to wear a white mink coat that’s several sizes too big for him and damp around the edges. It might seem out of character on a boy of his age, but somehow to him it seemed fitting for the task ahead. What’s more, as he had finished in his bid to persuade Jenks to join him, it was only a short crossing to reach Mae Lin. As soon as they hooked up with her again, chances are she would take them down into the labyrinth and out of sight from the world above.
Which is why it comes as some surprise to the pair when Mae Lin steps out from her dim sum store to meet them, and locks the door behind her.
“Hello, little man!” she says to Jenks in greeting, unfazed by his luminous presence. “If we’re lucky, you can travel on a child ticket.”
“Huh?” Yoshi looks up smartly. He shows her the two pairs of halogen headtorches that he’s strapped to his belt loop. “I thought these might come in useful, but why do we need tickets to travel underground?”
Mae Lin frowns, and returns her keys to the pocket of her quilted coat. “Yoshi, you’re a good boy. Please don’t tell me you’re a fare dodger.”
Yoshi turns to Jenks, who seems equally bemused. Before he can seek to make sense of the situation, Mae Lin has set off towards the pagoda that marks the gateway to and from Chinatown. “Lucky I got some money in my purse, innit? Now, follow me!”
If Jenks had taken some persuading to climb out of the bunker, Yoshi needs some convincing when Mae Lin finally stops at a street corner and invites him to follow her below ground.
“When I asked if you knew how to get around under London,” he tells her, “I didn’t mean by subway train!”
“Why not?” Mae Lin steps aside so the boy can see the underground map clearly. The trio are standing beside the top of the escalators, watching a steady stream of Londoners descending from the street to the warren of platforms below. Some glance at Jenks, who keeps his hoodie pulled low over his face, but most purposely avoid his presence. “Wherever you want to go in this city,” she says, “the tube will take you there! What’s the problem, big boy? You look a little mystified.”
Yoshi is lost for words for a moment. When he finally gathers himself, Mae Lin has hopped onto the slow-moving stairway. She takes Jenks by the hand as she does so, obliging the boy to follow behind. “The tube might get us around town,” he says finally, “but I don’t recall a station outside the troglodyte’s lair. Just a chasm none of us can cross and a great big church on top.”
“Oh, let’s worry about that later,” she says, batting away his protest. “St Luke’s is just around the corner from the nearest station. Once we get there, I’m sure if we ask nicely someone will give us directions.”
This time, Yoshi is silenced by such a batty approach to his dilemma. When Mae Lin claimed to know how to travel around London, he had assumed she meant by the lost rivers, tunnels, vaults and sewers. Not by public transport. With a sigh, he steps off the foot of the escalator and follows the pair towards the eastbound platform.
“At least we’re heading in the right direction,” he mutters, catching up with them now.
“We might even get a seat!” beams Mae Lin. “I’m not just a pretty face, you know!”
The platform stretches between two tunnels. It’s so long that they have the far end to themselves. Jenks keeps close to Yoshi, whose expression still suggests this is going to be one huge exercise in wasting time. Travelling to a station nearest to the church made sense, but it wouldn’t help them locate the lair. And even if they did, how on earth did Mae Lin think they would enter it? Yoshi might be a skilled parkour, but even he would never dare attempt to leap the rocky divide in question. So absorbing is the challenge they face that Yoshi fails to notice the breeze pick up from the tunnel.
“Stand behind the yellow line,” Mae Lin instructs him, and gestures at the safety marking that runs the length of the platform. “And once the train has arrived, wait for the passengers to get off before you climb on board.”
Mae Lin’s maternal clucking leaves Yoshi wishing he could recall his life before the Foundation. It’s as if his memory of his mother and any family who might be missing him had been wiped clean. And yet now was not the right moment to dwell on the past. Not when the breeze picks up enough to stir the litter between the tracks and the head of a train slams out of the darkness. It arrives at quite a rate, which leaves the boy thankful that he had stepped away from the edge. He looks for the driver behind the windshield, but it passes too quickly too see. If the speed is unusual, the braking is diabolical. The tube train slows to a halt as expected, but then judders forward abruptly, not once but twice.
“Good grief,” mutters Yoshi. “I’m beginning to see why Julius prefers to move around under London on foot.”
“You get used to it,” Mae Lin replies with a shrug, and waits for the doors to open.