Read The Underground City for Free Online Page B

to the reason for his words. If his room was at the top of the house then he reckoned that Mrs Sinclair would be more than glad to leave him well alone.

6. The Bank Robbers
    “Will you mind what you’re doing with that pick!” muttered Murdo irritably as Wullie wielded it with gusto.
    “I’ve hit a tough bit,” panted Wullie defensively. “A bit of wall must have fallen in and I have to break it up if we’re going to get through!”
    “Hit a tough bit! You nearly put a hole in my head, you great oaf!”
    “Well, if you’re so anxious, why don’t you do a bit of the work? I’m exhausted!”
    “Oh, for Pete’s sake, have a break and we’ll have another look at the map. There are so many of these blooming alleys that it’d be easy to pick the wrong one.”
    Wullie picked up one of the battery-operated lanterns and put it on a flat stone so that it shed some light on the creased sheet of yellowing paper that lay spread out over their makeshift table. With a lingering look at the inky blackness that surrounded them, he inched towards the lamp’s comforting glow and reached for his cigarettes.
    “Nane o’ they ghosts around tonight,” he muttered, lighting up and inhaling deeply. “I wonder what they’re cooking up for us this time!”
    Before they’d found the old map showing the network of streets that lay under the city, neither Wullie nor Murdo had believed in ghosts. After their first few sorties underground, however, this attitude had fundamentally changed. A succession of shoves, pushes and blasts of freezing cold air that had turned them blue with cold, had done much to convince themthat ghosts most certainly did exist and, more to the point, had let them know quite plainly that they did not like anybody invading their territory.
    Murdo had found the old map in a charity shop in Newington. Not that he usually went into charity shops, but a prowling police patrol had unnerved him and while waiting for the constables to pass, he’d nipped inside the shop and buried his head in the first big book he’d seen. The map had fallen out as he’d pulled the book off the shelf and rather than fiddle around putting it back, he’d hastily stuffed it in his carrier bag and promptly forgotten all about it until he’d got home. When he’d worked out what it was, however, he’d seen definite possibilities … yes, very definite possibilities. So much so that, hands trembling and imagination racing wildly, he’d reached excitedly for his mobile.
    “Wullie, get yerself over here right now. We might have a job on!”
    They pored excitedly over the map. “Look,” Murdo pointed out once they’d got it the right way round, “there’s even a tunnel that goes up to the castle and if you follow it through here … and here … it ends up in Holyrood Palace!”
    “We’re going to do the Palace?” Wullie gasped, impressed.
    “No, we’re no’ going to do the Palace, you idiot,” Murdo said exasperatedly. “What’s in the Palace, you clown? Nothing but auld pictures that nobody would give you tuppence for.”
    Having thus summarily disposed of the Queen’s Collection, Murdo gave a smile of pure, unalloyed glee. “No, Wullie. Just look here. See this alley,” he said, his grimy finger tracing the course of a passage that led from the cellars of Deacon Brodie’s Tavern down to the outline of another imposing building on the Mound. “See where it goes!”
    “Man!” Wullie looked at him in awe. “Man, that’s … that’s …”
    “The Bank of Scotland!” crowed Murdo. “Yon passage there’ll take us right into its vaults or I’m a Dutchman.”
    Wullie eyed Murdo questioningly. “A Dutchman?” he echoed . “I … er … I always thought you were, well, Scottish like me?” Wullie sounded confused.
    Murdo gave him a look and was about to make a really cutting remark when he saw the wisdom of keeping Wullie sweet. Wullie was six feet tall and as tough as they come. He was going to need Wullie