John Hawks - The Golden City

Simon turned the corner on to Brookdale Street and stopped under a flowering cherry tree. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Just a little tired. That’s all.”

“You were harsh with Jugger and Roland. Usually, it is better to be gentle with your friends- delicato . The Free Runners want to be helpful, but they are frightened.”

“I don’t have the time to be diplomatic.”

“Anger can also waste time,” Simon said. “You have always been like your father, careful and deliberate. But lately-not so much.”

“I’m worried about Alice Chen. She’s the same age I was when a lot of bad things happened.”

“Would you like to talk about that?”

“No.”

“Is there anything else you would like to talk about? I’m sure it troubles you that Gabriel has crossed over…”

For a moment, she wanted to break down, embrace her father’s old friend, and tell him about the pregnancy. No tears, she told herself. Tears won’t save Alice or Gabriel or anyone else in this world. As Simon watched, she rearranged her sword carrier and stood a little straighter.

“I’m alright. Let’s find this woman and see if she has any underground maps.”

They continued down the street until they reached number fifty one-a two-story brick house that had once displayed grand pretensions. Greek columns created a portico leading to the front door and a Doric façade ran around the edge of the roof. Signs had been placed among the weeds and brambles of what had once been a front lawn. FREE THE RIVERS. Inquire Within .

Maya and Simon walked up a flagstone pathway and knocked on the door. Almost immediately they heard a woman’s voice coming from a distant part of the house. “I’m here!” The woman kept shouting as she passed through different rooms. “Here! I’m here!”

Maya glanced at Simon and saw that he was smiling. “Someone dwells within,” he said pleasantly.

The door was flung open and they faced a small woman in her seventies. Her long gray hair went off in every direction, and she wore a T-shirt that displayed the slogan: Break Your Chains .

“Good afternoon, madam. I am Dr. Pannelli, and this is my friend, Judith Strand. We were walking to the park and saw your signs. Ms. Strand is curious about your organization. If you are not busy, perhaps you could tell us a bit more.”

“No!” the woman said with a big smile. “Not busy. Not busy at all. Come in, Mister… I didn’t hear the name.”

“Dr. Pannelli. And this is my friend, Ms. Strand.”

They followed the woman into what had once been the front parlor. All the chairs and tables were covered with stacks of pamphlets, books and yellowing newspapers. There were plastic pails filled with smooth river stones and glass jars sealed with red wax and marked with cryptic labels.

“Just push away the clutter and find someplace to sit.” The woman took a stack of books off a wicker chair and dumped them onto a folding cot. “I’m Nora Griggs, the Chairwoman and chief recording secretary of Free the Rivers.”

“An honor to meet you,” Simon said smoothly. “So what exactly does your organization do?”

“It’s all rather simple, Dr. Pannelli. Free the Rivers describes our vision and our goal. I could have called it ‘Free the London Rivers,’ but once we’re done here, we’ll move on to the rest of the world.”

“Is the Thames not free?” Simon asked.

“We’re talking about all the other rivers that used to run through London, like the Westbourne, the Tyburn and the Walbrook. Now they’re covered up with brick and concrete.”

“And your organization wants to-”

“Blow up the concrete and let the rivers run free. Imagine a London where pensioners can fish in their neighborhood trout stream. A city where children play and lovers stroll along the banks of a babbling brook.”

“A charming vision,” Simon said in a soothing voice.

“It’s more than charming, Dr. Pannelli. A society that frees its rivers can take the first step toward freeing their minds. Children need to realize that rivers don’t follow straight lines.”

Maya glanced at Simon- this is going nowhere -but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I work near Ludgate Circus,” he said. “Is there a river in that area?”

“Yes. The River Fleet. It starts in Hampstead, and then runs beneath Camden Town, Smithfield Market and Ludgate Circus.”

“And you’re sure it’s still there?” Maya asked.

“Of course it’s there! You can cover up the rivers, dam them and fill them with rubbish, but they will always fight back. In time, all the skyscrapers and office buildings will fall down, but the rivers will remain.”

“Brava, Ms. Griggs! This sounds like an outstanding organization.” Simon reached into his coat pocket and took out his wallet. He hesitated and then-very deliberately-put the wallet away. “You speak with such passion and sincerity that it feels indelicate to ask any question.”

“Be my guest,” Nora said. “Ask away!”

“Do you have any proof of your statement? Do you have photographs or maps of these rivers.”

“Maps? I’ve got plenty of those.” Nora pulled out a cardboard box, and everything fell onto the floor. Quickly, she knelt down and began scooping up pamphlets.

“Do you have a map of the River Fleet? Ms. Strand and I enjoy exploring London. It would be most educational to the follow the course of the Fleet through the city.”

“The Fleet starts up on Hampstead Heath and empties out of a nasty little drainage pipe beneath Blackfriars Bridge. The rest of the time, it’s underground, flowing beneath our madness and confusion.”

“I see. But you know where it goes.”

Nora finished picking up the pamphlets and made a sly smile. “And you would, too-if you become members.”

Once again, Simon took out his wallet. “Do we pay dues? Sign a petition? What’s the procedure?”

“Five pounds apiece and you get membership cards, although I might have misplaced the cards.”

Looking flustered, Nora hurried off into what had once been the dining room and began to rummage through boxes and paper sacks.

Maya leaned forward spoke quietly to Simon. “Do you believe any of this?”

“That the River Fleet is still there? There’s no question of that. And ten pounds is a fair price for a good map.”

“Here we are!” Looking triumphant, Nora Griggs stood in the doorway and waved her treasure. “Membership cards!”

Wearing a yellow hard hat and a reflector vest with the City of London logo, Maya stood across the street from the Evergreen Foundation building on Limeburner Lane. It was about ten o’clock in the evening and no one was out, but she was wary of the surveillance cameras mounted on the wall over the building’s entrance.

Roland was halfway down the block searching for a storm drain that emptied rainwater into the Fleet River. According to Nora Grigg’s map, the river was directly below them, flowing in the darkness toward the Thames.

At night, the Evergreen building looked like a chess board-a grid of lines marking out black or gray squares. Light came from the vertical line of windows marking the emergency staircase and from two curtained windows on the fifth floor. Maybe Alice is being held there, Maya thought. Or maybe some accountant forgot to switch off his desk lamp.

Roland raised his hand and she hurried down the street to join him. The Free Runner was also wearing a hard hat and reflector vest. He rummaged through a knapsack and pulled out a flashlight attached to thirty feet of nylon fishing line.

“This drain is the closest we can get to the building. But I can’t promise you that the outflow pipe leads to the river.”