Underneath the theatre, in the lanes and alleys of the Underground City, the Plague People had steadily picked their way free and were now roaming the streets at will. The walls that had held them prisoner had crumbled under the pressure of their desperate attempts for freedom and as they sallied triumphantly forth, their wailing cries struck fear into the hearts of those who heard them.
The police were still in the Underground City at the time, some in the vaults of the bank, while others searched methodically through the streets and houses for traces of Murdo, Wullie and Tammy Souter.
The ghosts guided them here and there and it hadn’t take the policemen long to appreciate their help; for without them, they’d soon have been lost in the labyrinth of alleys and streets that seemed to stretch all the way down the High Street to Holyrood. Surprisingly enough, they worked quite well together. The ghosts were all right, thought the policemen, as long as you didn’t look too closely at their awful eyes.
Then they heard it in the distance, a strange moaning, bubbling noise that echoed weirdly among the houses. They stopped instinctively, flashing their torches back down the alleys and seeing nothing, looked sharply at the ghosts.
“What’s that awful racket?” a constable asked apprehensively and took no comfort from the sudden expressions of fear that appeared on the ghosts’ faces. They, themselves, it seemed, were suddenly scared to death and were looking down the narrow streets in terror. “The Plague People!” they whispered.
Moments later, they came into view.
Ghosts and policemen alike gasped in horror for the ghosts of the plague were, indeed, the stuff of nightmares. Dressed in long, white, hooded robes that drifted into mist, their pale faces were mottled black with boils and their long skinny arms stretched out hungrily as they swung swiftly and silently between the houses searching for their prey.
“Run,” the ghosts snapped. “Follow us. We know all the short cuts. Quickly! Run for your lives!”
The policemen, who had paled at the mention of the plague, did exactly that. Following the ghosts, they dived in and out of houses and alleys, knowing that had Mary King not made her offer of help, they wouldn’t have stood a chance and would soon have been caught by the nameless horrors that chased them. As it was, they reached the stair up to the Assembly Hall with the terrifying apparitions not far behind and it was only when the last policeman scrambled white-faced to safety that the cellar door was slammed shut and firmly locked.
The same thing happened in the bank. The bank security staff took one look at the drifting horrors that were sloping down the alley towards them and raced for the safety of the bank’s interior. It was a close run thing, for even as the ghosts sailed towards them over the scattered piles of banknotes, they were still hefting the door of the vault shut, with no thought for the money left abandoned and unguarded in its shattered ruins.
“MacArthur! Lord Rothlan!” Jaikie said, springing to his feet in alarm for the second time that evening. The first scare, when the goblins had shot out of the magic mirror, had been bad enough but this was worse. Much worse! “Will you come and look at this!” he said, gesturing towards the crystal ball. “The Plague People are loose!”
Kitor gave a squawk of alarm and Arthur heaved himself to his feet so that he, too, could see what was going on. Lord Rothlan and the MacArthur hastily rose to their feet and strode towards the glowing crystal on its ornate stand. It showed a ghastly, horrible scene as its eye followed the ghosts of the Plague People as they glided with swift, hungry eagerness along the alleys of the Underground City.
Lady Ellan, too, peered into the crystal, her nose wrinkling in disgust. A nameless fear made her shiver. “They really look awful, don’t they!” she whispered. “But how on earth did they get out? I thought their cellars had been sealed up?”
“It must have been yon bank robbers that Neil was telling me about,” muttered the MacArthur. “He said they were trying to break into the vaults of the Bank of Scotland.”
“Do you think they broke into their cellars instead?” Jaikie whispered.
“Whatever they did, they certainly got more than they bargained for.” Lord Rothlan looked and sounded worried as he eyed the hooded white shapes with their bloated, mottled faces.
“You … you don’t think Neil and Clara might be down there, do you?” Jaikie interrupted fearfully.
Lady Ellan shook her head. “I shouldn’t think so,” she said. “They’re in the pantomime.”
“Let’s see if we can get hold of Sir Archie …” Lord Rothlan said. “Can you find him for me, Jaikie?”