The Deptford Mice 3: The Final Reckoning Read Online Free PDF Page A

the service lights were on and they made it a forbidding place. The tunnels were much larger then the sewers in which he had been lost, but the curved walls always reminded Piccadilly of them. He would often let the others go on ahead and stay behind to think of those times in Deptford and the good friends he had left there.
    He sighed sadly. If only Audrey had liked him! Oh well, that part of his life was over now and he just had to forget it. He hoped that one day he would be able to remember without it hurting any more.
    As he stood there, Piccadilly gradually became aware of two small points of light shining down in the darkness where the Tube tracks lay and it was only when the lights blinked that he realized they were eyes. It gave him quite a shock but when he recovered he shouted sternly.
    ‘’Ere, who’s that down there? Come out now.’ The eyes vanished as whoever it was turned tail and darted away.
    ‘Oh no you don’t!’ yelled Piccadilly leaping off the platform. He landed between the tracks and set off in pursuit.
    Whoever he was chasing was quick on their feet and scampered swiftly into the extreme blackness of the Tube tunnel. Piccadilly charged along as fast as he could, trying to see the figure he was chasing. All he could make out was a hunched, furry shape dodging to and fro with a thin, knobbly tail slithering over the never-ending silvery rails.
    Piccadilly lengthened his strides, leaping over the wooden sleepers and ignoring the pain of the sharp gravel under his feet. Slowly he began to gain on his quarry. With outstretched paws he caught hold of the clammy tail which lashed about before him.
    ‘Aiee!’ squealed a croaky voice as Piccadilly gave the tail a sharp yank. There was a loud ‘Clang!’ as the unseen creature lost its balance and fell heavily against one of the rails. ‘Oh me ’ed!’ whined the voice morosely. ‘Oh it ’urts, ooch, ah – ee!’
    Piccadilly strained his eyes in the darkness to see what he had caught. An old brown rat lay on the ground before him. His thin, chiselled face was crossed by many wrinkles and the fur round his temples was grey. The rat was nursing his head and uttering indignant cries through gummy lips – there was only one tooth in his head.
    ‘What the blazes d’you do that fer?’ he squawked woefully. ‘I didn’t do nowt.’
    Piccadilly looked at him distastefully – he did not like rats. There had been a time when he would cheerfully have kicked any rat’s backside and blown a raspberry after it, but ever since his experiences in Jupiter’s domain, rats made him nervous. This specimen looked harmless enough, however - it was too old to be anything else. Still, Piccadilly eyed him carefully. There had been some unpleasant rumours going round Holeborn lately about the city rats. Piccadilly thought this might be a good time to find the answers to a few questions.
    ‘What were you spyin’ on me for?’ he asked sharply.
    The rat mumbled to itself and folded its arms sulkily. ‘Got sore ’ed now,’ it said stubbornly, ‘get a lump there Barker will. Hates lumps, he does. Lump, lump, lump. Barker always gets ’em, he gets ’em from them – he gets ’em from you. Barker might as well punch hisself to save you an’ them the bother.’ The rat pouted moodily and repeated, ‘Lump, lump, lump,’ once more.
    Piccadilly groaned – he could not stand whingers, but he offered the rat a paw to help him up. ‘You called Barker then?’ he asked. There was no reply.
    ‘Is your name Barker?’
    The rat had looked away rudely and remained obstinately where he was, ‘Lump, lump, lump,’ he grumbled peevishly.
    ‘Get up or I’ll give you some more lumps to worry about,’ warned Piccadilly, losing his temper.
    Immediately the rat sprang to his feet but ignored the offered paw. ‘Barker go now?’ he grunted.
    ‘Not so fast mate.’ Piccadilly caught hold of the rat’s fur. ‘You haven’t said why you were spyin’ on me.’
    ‘Jus’