Age of Atlantis: Return by Niall Teasdale

Author:Niall Teasdale [Teasdale, Niall]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-09-01T04:00:00+00:00

Interlude

London, United Kingdom, 6th December 2018 (three weeks later).

The building was a two-storey townhouse with a plastered and whitewashed exterior on the corner of South and Waverton streets in Mayfair. At some point, it had been converted into offices for a solicitor and security cameras had been added to cover both exposed walls.

‘Okay,’ Moira said. ‘There it is. Now how do y’ expect tae get in?’

Shia was standing beside her, looking across South Street with a frown on her face. Part of the reason for the frown was that she was having to wear clothes to sneak around London in search of information. She would have preferred to be in her full battle gear. Because of the dismal English weather, she was even wearing a coat! ‘How do you put up with all this clutter?’ she asked.

‘Clutter?’

‘Shirts, coats, dresses.’

‘Oh. We grow up with it. You didn’t. Besides, this is London in December. Naked is never an option.’

‘It would be an option.’ Shia looked up at the overcast night sky, illuminated mostly by the glow of the city. ‘It would be a cold option, but… I’ll get us in. Go over to the door and wait.’ With that, she dashed across the street and then down the side where a slope led to some form of underground car park.

Moira was not sure what the woman was up to, but she dutifully crossed the street and walked over to lean against the wall beside one of the doors. After around five minutes, it opened. Turning, she checked that the face looking out was Shia’s and then entered.

‘This structure is empty,’ Shia said. ‘We’re looking for the underground rooms. I believe the access to be in the kitchen area.’

‘Aye, well, the cellar’s often accessed from the kitchen. Or under the stairs.’

‘Useful to know.’

The door looked like any other wooden door in the building and was, in fact, both under the stairs and in the kitchen at the back of the building. The kitchen door was open: that was how Shia had got in. She had levitated over the roof and down into the rear yard, and then she had turned the key using telekinesis. Burglary was easy when you had psi powers.

Behind the door to the cellar, a flight of stairs led down to another door, this one made of iron bars. A padlock lay on the ground beside it and, in the glow of her flashlight, Moira noticed something else which suggested that their mission was going to be for nought. ‘This looks like fingerprint powder,’ she said, picking up the padlock and examining it. ‘The police have been here.’

‘Which may explain why upstairs is empty and no one is watching the door here either.’ Shia pushed through the barred door and stepped into a corridor built from brick. It looked older than the house upstairs. That might have just been a matter of upkeep. There were more barred gates at either end of the corridor and no light aside from the ones the two women carried.

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