Darkside by Tom Becker Page A

threatening to colour in the maps,” the librarian replied. “Priceless antique maps. That’s why we’re throwing you out. We’ll have to confiscate your reader’s card as well.”
    Jonathan gave an exaggerated sigh, then handed over the card. He nodded briskly at Marianne, and then headed out through the doors, upon which he broke into a breakneck run. The librarian turned to Marianne. “Kids. I don’t know what parents these days are thinking of, bringing them up to be like that.”
    Marianne nodded sympathetically. The librarian sighed again, and then began trudging back to the map room. As soon as she was out of sight, the shorter man came buzzing up to her.
    â€œYou want Skeet to follow the puppy?”
    â€œNo need.” Marianne looked out at the glowering sky. “We know where he’s going already.”

6
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    J onathan didn’t stop running until he had made it back to King’s Cross. This time he dived gratefully into the hordes of people queuing on the platform; trying to find him now would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. He only had to wait for a minute or so until a train stuttered into the station and he squeezed aboard, all the while keeping an eye out for any pursuers. As the doors beeped closed, Jonathan felt a sigh of relief. He had escaped.
    After a couple of stops the carriage started to empty. Jonathan took a seat, and thought furiously. He knew that he was going to hunt for the crossing point described in Stevenson’s journal, but he couldn’t just disappear without telling anyone. However, if the kidnappers at the library were related to the intruder at the house, then it wasn’t safe to go home. They could be there already. He could go to Mrs Elwood’s, but Jonathan doubted she would be home until later, and he didn’t fancy hiding out in her garden until she returned. The perfect solution would have been to go over to a friend’s place, but he didn’t have any friends.
    No, there was only one place he could go. Jonathan hopped off the tube two stops before the one nearest his house and walked briskly to the bus stop on the main road. From here he knew he could catch a ride up to the hospital.
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    When it eventually appeared, the bus followed a long, winding route that seemed to take in every backstreet in London. The street lights were flickering on in the residential areas, and as he gazed out of the window Jonathan saw parents returning home from work, carefully pulling their cars into driveways and shutting the front door on the outside world. Beside him an old woman was jabbering away to herself, and smelling as though she hadn’t washed for a long time. The panic and the elation Jonathan had experienced in the library was ebbing away, only to be replaced by a simmering resentment. In the space of a day he had uncovered more about his family than his dad had told him during his entire lifetime. Why had Alain not told him about Darkside? What was so important that he couldn’t tell his own son? What else was he hiding?
    St Christopher’s Hospital was wreathed in darkness by the time he arrived. The wind lashed across Alain’s wing, rattling the grimy windows and making the rotten door frames creak in agony. It seemed to Jonathan that, at any moment, the entire building could be torn from its foundations and carried away on the gale, taking its occupants with it. A sense of urgency descended upon him.
    Inside, the reception was deserted, except for a man in a dressing gown who was staring intently at the ground, muttering something under his breath. Eventually the nurse appeared from one of the side rooms. She recognized Jonathan, and sent him crisply up to the first floor.
    â€œThe patients are a bit on edge tonight,” she warned. “Keep your eyes down and don’t hang about in the wards.”
    Jonathan moved quickly up the steps and into the first ward. The