Chapter Seven

N othing was more likely to encourage Josef along any path of action than being told it was forbidden. Especially when the man doing the telling was a bona fide thieving aristocrat.

Which was why, the morning after Alex’s visit, Josef found himself standing on a cold street with his notebook out, staring down into a hole in the ground.

“And it was Tuesday, when the body was found?” he asked the man warming his hands over the brazier. A breeze had got up in the night, shifting the fog enough that a pale sun was visible through the mist today. Not that it provided much heat.

“Tuesday, aye. First thing. Couldn’t hardly miss it.”

“And can you describe its position?”

“Flat on its face.”

Josef looked up, saw a gleam in the man’s eye. It was about all of his eye that was visible, the rest lost in the deep lines of a face used to outside work. “I mean its location in the tunnel,” Josef explained. “Was it directly beneath the hole?”

“Nah.” He jerked his head to the left. “About twenty yards that way.”

“So…” That was interesting. “The fall didn’t kill him outright, then?”

“If he fell.”

“Do you doubt it?”

The man shrugged and said, “If he fell, and could walk twenty yards, why didn’t he just climb out? Not like there ain’t a ladder.”

“Well, it would have been pitch black, I suppose…” He thought again of his father’s story of the man who’d stumbled over the edge of the dock. “Perhaps he got disoriented?”

“And then happened to drop down dead?”

Josef chewed the end of his pencil. “What’s your theory then?”

“Where did you say you was from?”

“The Daily Clarion .”

“Only I told the other bloke all this.”

“What other bloke? From another newspaper?”

“Army. The poor sod’s commanding officer is investigating what happened to him.” He snorted a laugh. “I said, ‘It’s a bit late to bring him up on charges for being drunk and disorderly.’”

Josef laughed politely. “True. What did you tell him?”

“That there’s more going on beneath the streets of London than most people want to know about.” A knowing look lit his eye, a challenge in his bright gaze. A question.

“I’d like to know.”

“Aye, but would you believe it?”

“How about you tell me, and we’ll see?”

After a long, measured gaze, the man said, “You ever heard of Queen Rat?”

A trolleybus trundled past on the other side of the road; a car horn bellowed. Josef said, “Queen Rat ?”

The man’s expression cooled. “If you ain’t interested…”

“I am!” He hadn’t meant his scepticism to show. “I’ve just never heard of it. Her.” But his heart sank. Queen Rat, indeed. “So, who is she?”

“Well.” The man still looked doubtful, but at the same time, he clearly wanted to spin his tale, and that overcame any reluctance. “The stories go back a couple of hundred years. Back then Toshers used to work the sewers looking for coins and jewellery and the like. But they delved deep, and it’s said they woke Queen Rat, and she’s haunted the sewers ever since, preying on men. Seducing them.”

Josef felt his eyebrows creep up, despite his best intentions. “She’s a…giant rat?” He couldn’t imagine that being very seductive.

“She takes the form of a beautiful woman, but her eyes…they’re like a rat’s eyes, gleaming in the dark.”

Josef suddenly found himself listening very sharply.

“It’s said, if the man pleases her, she grants him great good fortune. And curses him if he doesn’t. But also—” he put a hand to his neck, “—she bites him here, leaves her mark. Now, the man we found? His neck was all chewed up. His arm, too.”

“The police think rats might have—”

“No rat did that, I’ll tell you that for nothing. 'Least, no natural rat.”

“I see.” Josef closed his notebook. “Thank you.”

“It ain’t just that either. There’s been queer goings-on down here for weeks. All the men know it, not just me. Stinks—and not the usual sort—and sounds. And…” He looked genuinely uneasy. “Eyes in the dark.”

Josef’s heart jumped. “What sort of eyes?”

“Bright. Like a rat’s, reflecting the light. But…too tall for a rat.” He held his hand at eye level. “Human size.”

A chill ran up Josef’s spine that had nothing to do with the weather. His encounter with Alex had pushed his odd experience at Blackfriars Underground out of his mind, but it came rushing back to him now. It was stupid, though, utterly ridiculous, and he certainly didn’t believe in any queen of the rats. Nevertheless, he heard himself ask, “What colour eyes?”

“Blue. Pale as ice.” He cocked his head, measuring Josef. “You’ve seen something like it, ain’t you?”

“I don’t know.” A cold breeze tugged at his scarf, and he shivered. “I thought I did. In one of the tube tunnels.”

“Aye. They do say she gets out and about. That’s how she finds her men, see? Lures them back into the dark and…” He struck a match and put it to his pipe. “The men aren’t happy. I’ll tell you that much. Won’t go anywhere down here except in pairs.”

“Did you mention any of this to the police?”

“The coppers?” He snorted around the stem of his pipe as he sucked on it. “Wouldn’t give me the time of day. Told the army bloke, though. He was interested.”

Ah yes, the army officer. Josef said, “He wasn’t called Captain Winchester by any chance, was he?”

“Nah, it was a funny name. Lieutenant Twisleton.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a dented card. “Told me to contact him if anything else happened. I liked him. He took us seriously. Told us to be careful down there.”

“May I?” Josef took the card and scribbled down the address and telephone number. He didn’t bother with the fake name; Alex would be good enough. “I can’t say I believe in your Queen Rat,” he said, returning the card. “But something queer is going on, and whatever it is it’s dangerous. Lieutenant Twisleton is right—you should be careful.” He dug out his own card. “If you could let me know if anything else happens, I’d be grateful.”

“The lieutenant offered us ten bob for useful information,” the man said, taking Josef’s card and examining it.

“The lieutenant has deeper pockets than me.” And wasn’t it typical of a bloody toff to think he could buy anything he wanted? “But he plans to hush up whatever’s going on. I want to warn the world. So…” He shrugged. “Make your choice when you decide who to speak to first.”

***

“I’m telling you it’s a story.”

May regarded him across her desk, fingers steepled and eyes sceptical. “A Queen Rat seducing men in the sewers? The Daily Clarion’s a newspaper, Joe, not a penny dreadful.”

“Not that.” He waved it aside with a flick of his hand. “That’s a myth, obviously. But there is something going on. I’ve seen these men’s wounds, May. Two in Flanders, one here. I’ve seen them with my own eyes. And I saw—” He hesitated about confessing the rest, but if he didn’t tell May everything, she’d never believe him. “I saw something in the tunnel at Blackfriars yesterday. Eyes, blue eyes.”

Her lips pressed together. “Eyes.” Her tone was as flat as her Mancunian vowels.

“I know it sounds mad, but I swear I saw it. And… and I’ve seen it before, too. Back in Poperinge.”

“Joe…” Her gaze slid sideways, and he realised she looked embarrassed. “You’ve not been back long—”

“I’m not imagining it! Look, I thought that too at first. That maybe my nerves were dinged or something, but the men working in the sewer saw the same thing.” And that had to mean something, didn’t it? It meant he wasn’t imagining it, that his mind wasn’t playing tricks.

“And you think it’s a giant rat woman—?”

“Of course I bloody don’t. But I do think it’s something—and that this bloke, this Lord Beaumont, or Captain Winchester, or whoever he is, knows what it is.” He hesitated again, although God knows why, and added, “Why else would he have come round the Cohens’ shop yesterday to warn me off?”

That got her attention. “He warned you off?”

“Yep. Said if I didn’t stop poking my nose into it, I’d get myself killed.”

“Blimey, Joe.” May sat forward over her desk, suddenly interested. “All right, that’s something. And you think this Lord Beaumont is Intelligence Corps?”

“I do. He denied it, of course.”

“Well, he would.”

“Right. He did confess to working for the War Office, though. He said this thing’s an infection, but I reckon that’s bollocks. God knows what the bastards have cooked up, but my guess is it’s some kind of weapon. Maybe a new gas they’re testing in the sewers before they get the sappers to deploy it under no man’s land. Maybe it…seeps up into the enemy trench? Something like that. Only…well, something must have gone wrong.”

May let out a low whistle. “Who else knows about it?”

“You mean reporters? I haven’t seen anyone asking questions but me. The copper had seen at least two cases. So had the girls on the ambulance crew. Oh, and one of them just happens to be pally with Alex. No coincidence, I reckon.”

“Who’s Alex?”

Damn. Josef’s face heated. “Lord Beaumont.”

“Oh, on a first-name basis, are you?”

“Not exactly.” Her penetrating gaze didn’t let up, and he sighed, giving in. “Alright, we had a tumble one night, is all. Back in Pops. That’s when he stole my bloody camera.”

May snorted a laugh. “Oh, so this is personal, too. Did he tweak your pride, Joe?”

“Something like that.” He smiled, although faintly. Ridiculous as it was, he felt unreasonably hurt by the whole business. Perhaps because he’d enjoyed their time together so much—the fucking, yes, but also the lovely room and the cosy supper in front of the fire. And Alex’s gentleness in bed. You didn’t often find that in fleeting encounters, and Joe hadn’t had anything but fleeting encounters in all his twenty-six years. “But the fact is the man’s iffy as hell. And whatever’s going on here stinks—in all meanings of the phrase.”

“It would be quite a scoop,” May mused. “Government testing deadly gas beneath the streets of London. What’s your next move?”

Sitting back in his chair, he folded his arms and braced himself. May wouldn’t like this, which was fair enough because he didn’t like it either. “I reckon I’ve got two choices—track down Lord Beaumont and make him tell me the truth.”

“Unlikely to work.”

He inclined his head in agreement. “Or go down into the sewers and see what I can find out myself.”