Chameleon

Tim used his usual method of accessing the disused tube station, entering via the Aldwych before descending down a narrow, and seriously claustrophobic, steel staircase. At the bottom of the stairs lay a small passageway, around two metres in length, leading to an old wooden door. The staircase and passageway were only just wide enough to accommodate a well-built individual; anyone seriously overweight would be likely to become stuck.

The old wooden door had a modern lock to which Tim had a key. He opened the door and, before stepping down onto the track, he looked to make sure that the safety bar was in place. Without that bar the third and fourth rail would be live. Unlike other railway systems, the London Underground has four rails. The first and second are in the lines or tracks which carry the trains. The third rail is next to and above the rail, and carries a direct positive current of four hundred and twenty volts. The fourth rail is laid between the tracks and carries the returning current of negative two hundred and ten volts DC. Together these lines give six hundred and thirty volts of traction. The third rail is a real risk to anyone walking in the tu

To add to the risk, this old section of the Piccadilly Line had a cast iron lining, rather than the concrete lining of later tu

Tim had no need to worry about all of this because the safety bar was in place, cutting off the electricity to this section of the tu

The agent walked toward the lights which illuminated the most recently abandoned platform, sporting the traditional underground plaque of a red ring split in two by a horizontal blue line bearing the single word ALDWYCH. The lighting here was not particularly bright, as the platform was lit for emergency use only, but it was enough to allow him to see what he was doing. As he climbed onto the platform he looked around. It was like entering a time capsule. Although this platform had closed to the public in 1994, it had been earmarked for closure for so long that it had not been considered for a full refurbishment since the commencement of the Second World War, which was good news for various filmmakers who had used it on occasion when they required the backdrop of an old wartime tube station for their latest drama.

Tim climbed half a dozen wide tiled steps leading to a tiled circular tu

Before ascending the spiral staircase, Tim braced himself, then took out his military issue Browning Hi Power pistol and double-checked that it was ready for use. He would be sorry to see the old girl go. In a month or so the familiar Browning Hi Powers were due to be replaced with modern Glocks. Satisfied that he was ready for the task ahead, both mentally and physically, he began the long climb to ground level.

***

Gil knew that this would be her last meeting with Tim. She was certain that her association with the service was coming to an end, and that meant only one thing; Tim was coming to serve a ‘D notice’. Of course, there was still a remote possibility that they would pay her fee and bid her a fond farewell, but if that was their intention, why the meet? Why bring cash to an abandoned tube station? In the past she had been paid discreetly through nominee accounts. The amounts transferred to her would usually be listed as ‘commission’ from companies with names such as Thames House Consulting, Riverview Perso

Gil didn’t like it; the Chameleon was usually the hunter, not the hunted. She knew very well that if a ‘D notice’ had been issued, then her former employers would not stop looking for her until either she was found, or until they were sure she was dead, hence her extreme precautions. In her heart she knew that the Chameleon had to retire, but only from work, not from life.

The cold winter air was freezing Gil’s bones, even though she was huddled under a thick coat and was wearing lined leather gloves. Nevertheless, she stood where she could see Aldwych House and the i

Twenty body-numbing minutes later a workman came out of the same door. He was carrying his tool bag and he hugged his high visibility coat around him as a meagre defence against the cold north wind. Once he had disappeared from sight, Gil made her way to the side entrance of the Strand Underground Station.

***

Tim looked at his watch for the twentieth time in five minutes. Gil was due any time now. He was ready. It wasn’t warm in the abandoned lobby, but at least it was sheltered from the biting wind. The agent felt for his Browning one more time. He had loaded it with armour piercing rounds – which were highly illegal – because he felt sure that Gil would be wary enough to be wearing a Kevlar vest.

Gil stood within feet of Tim, yet he had no idea she was there. She was an assassin, and he was a desk jockey. She realised that she could have taken him out there and then, but what would be the point? They would only send someone better next time.

Tim sensed more than heard Gil’s approach, and turned to face her. She was smiling brightly as she approached him, anticipating another big payday, thought Tim. Gil wandered over to the unused lift shaft that had been left uncovered.