Faber - Close to the Edge

Near the top of the second escalator, Laurie released Pauls hand. They had climbed from the darkness of the Underground, back into the light of Eustons deserted ticket hall. The CCTV cameras meant she had to hide her face. To soften the feeling of separation, she turned around and gave him a kiss, a reminder to them both of why they were there, before using the hands she had freed to pull the back of her t-shirt over her head. They were smiling at each other as they created their makeshift hoods. Then Laurie led the way up towards the barriers.

She only saw one of the men at first. For a moment Laurie thought he must be a night worker, but in that case he would surely have been wearing a fluorescent jacket, not a vest. Everything about him spoke of aggression: his stance, legs slightly apart, poised on the balls of the feet, his arms thickly muscled and tattooed, and the way he was staring at the midriff Laurie had exposed through her misuse of her t-shirt. She felt naked beneath his gaze.

Well, she heard, this is an unexpected bonus. The words came from another man, somewhere to the side. They were almost drawled, such was the relish that lay beneath them. For an instant, Laurie swung her head around, tunnel-visioned by the neck-hole of her t-shirt, desperately trying to locate the voices source. Then common sense took over. She turned to flee.

Paul, on the stairs immediately below Laurie, was unable to see the reason for her alarm. Run! she shouted, powered by fear. Then, while his face was still digesting the news, and with his body still blocking the more obvious escape route, she leapt to sit on the escalators rubberised handrail.

Laurie had seen this done once before, by a man only a little older than her late twenties perhaps who had drunk one too many. The speed of descent had taken him by surprise, and he had ended up tearing his suit halfway down. She, at least, knew what to expect.

From the moment Laurie started to slide, it was clear that there was little friction between the rubber and the cotton of her leggings, but she took a moment to pick up speed, and while she was travelling slowly past the still-immobile Paul, she managed to bring her top back down behind her head, regaining the full use of her arms. That was just as well. With one hand holding the torch, she could trail the other behind her on the handrail, for balance as well as a brake. She was glad of the glove that protected it from the worst of the friction as she slid into the darkness, heart pumping with terror.

Soon enough, Laurie felt the curve that indicated the handrail was coming to an end. She flew forward a few metres more before her feet hit the ground with a jar that required all the strength in her knees to absorb. If she had not been so frightened she might have tried to stop and regain control; perhaps then she would have stumbled. But instead she ran, maintaining the speed she had built up during her descent, not even bothering to look round, although a drumbeat of rapid thuds told her the pursuit was under way.

Pitch black, the entrance to the staircase down gave a hint of safety. Before Laurie even reached it she had ripped off her gloves and transferred her torch to her left hand, ready to grab the right handrail she knew would be there. She took the stairs two at a time, keeping her knees soft, spiralling down, absorbing the occasional changes in rhythm every time she reached a landing. Down and round she went until there were no more steps.

Could she allow herself to use the torch now? She had to if she was going to maintain her speed. She flicked it on. There was the T-junction she expected: southbound or northbound, left or right. She headed left, round a curve in the passage and down another flight of steps.

It was her running belt that Laurie worried about now. Its reflective strips made it a liability. As she ran she was unzipping it with her left hand, feeling inside for its contents: the three keys she had taken off the ring earlier, her mobile phone, her Oyster card, and the key with the numbered tag, the cause of all the trouble. She stuffed them down the front of her leggings. Why had she not worn pockets?

She was at another T-junction: left to the Northern line, or right to the Victoria. The belt was empty now. Not wishing to make a sound, cautious in her terror, Laurie laid it on the floor. The pause amplified her hearing. Footsteps echoed somewhere behind her. There was no time to waste.

Left again, and Laurie came onto the platform, at the end where the trains emerge. She switched off her torch and sprinted noiselessly along towards the southern end, anxious only to get further ahead of her pursuers. The sound of her breathing filled her ears, competing with the thud from a heart kick-started by adrenaline.

She must be approaching the end of the platform. Laurie slowed to a walk, arms in front, feeling for the end wall. There it was! If she could just hide in the tunnel then perhaps theyd give up looking for her. A look behind: she couldnt hear footsteps, but she could see the faint glow of a torch from the passage through which shed come. They must have found her running belt: let them go right, let them go right.

Suddenly, Laurie felt a sickening sensation: her mobile phone, slipping down inside her leggings. But there was something else: before Laurie even had time to react, she heard the tinkle of a key hitting the floor. Had her pursuers heard it? To Laurie, no sound had ever seemed so loud. Frantically, she crouched down and swept around with her left hand. She couldnt risk the torch now. Meanwhile, her eyes glanced towards the far end of the platform. Was that glow getting stronger?

Finally, Lauries hand caught the hard edge of curved metal, almost at the end of the platform: that tagged key again! As she grabbed it, the glow coalesced into a definite beam. They were coming this way. What to do with the key? She was still holding the torch in her right hand and had to retrieve her mobile from somewhere around her knee. She didnt have enough hands. No time to think. Shed just have to dump the key. Was there anywhere to hide it? Laurie pushed out with her left hand, searching.

Yes! There was some sort of grille. That would have to do. Still crouching, Laurie pushed the key through it and then reached down through her waistband to grab the errant phone. There was a definite circle of light at the far end of the platform now. Was it strong enough to pick her out? Laurie didnt waste time finding out. She manoeuvred herself to the side of the platform, and slid down onto the near rail. As she did so, the torch in her right hand fell.

The clang reverberated down the platform. There was no possibility Lauries pursuers hadnt heard it. No longer caring about the noise she made, she moved as quickly as she could into the tunnel, edging along by the platform with the rail as her guide. In seconds, the wall to her left was lit by a torch beam. The only reassurance was that her shadow did not appear within it. Laurie risked a look round. Without even realising, she had come into a tunnel that bent round to the right. The curve of the wall obscured the platform. To anybody there she was invisible. The torch moved away. She was in darkness once again.

Then a shout. Lauries stomach lurched. She must have been spotted. No, of course not. The shout was not at her.

Brian. Come here. Northern line, southbound. Was that the man whose voice shed heard before? She thought so.

They must have split up to follow her. He was calling for backup, but why wasnt he chasing her? Surely he knew she was in there? Now was no time to wait to find out. Laurie moved on down the tunnel, but carefully, containing her panic as she strained for sounds of pursuit. Perhaps it was worth staying silent after all.