Chapter One

Curiosity

There was no mistaking it: the London Underground map had his name on it.

This wasn’t just any old Tube map, either. It was one of those big, framed maps that stood proudly near the entrance to Bank station, where all clueless tourists could gape blankly at its tangle of colours. He wasn’t a tourist to London– anything but! Yet here he was, staring at the map, his name looking back.

And it wasn’t just random graffiti with his name misspelt and barely readable. No. Even that wouldn’t have been surprising: he was none too popular in some quarters around the city. His name was there, on the Northern Line, between Tufnell Park and Highgate, printed on the Map where Archway should be.

He blinked hard, glanced around at the empty streets soaking in warm yellow lights, and looked again at the map, following the black line upwards:Kentish Town, Tufnell Park...

Tom Verbrisser.

Tom shook himself down, loosening his tie and pulling his trenchcoat tighter around him. A breeze rattled a smashedmilk bottle in the kerbside, the stench of sour milk stinging his nostrils. He’d had a drink, and a sip of that cocktail Muezza had bought him, but that was it.Adrink. He definitely wasn’t seeing things, and he knew that part of the tube map like his own home, because Archwaywashis stop for home. It had said Archway that morning when he’d left, hadn’t it?

Tom drew himself up: only one way to find out what this was about. He’d find a guard and ask him if this was some kind of joke: yes, that was it. A joke. Everyone in London knew TomVerbrisser.Obviously. With one more look at the map (yes, still there), he descended into Bank station.

The ticket hall, however, rang with the sound of silence, completely deserted. Tom frowned. He looked at his watch, the diamonds reflecting the buzzing strip lights. It was Friday night, and this was Bank Station. So where was everyone?If this is a joke, it’s a very elaborate one.

Shaking his head, he reached into his silk-lined pockets, looking for his ticket, when he saw another Tube Map pinned to the wall. His name was there, too, looking as inconspicuous as everything else on there. Tom’s palms perspired. He grabbed a handful of tube maps from a leaflet holder, flicking each one open.

His name.

Tom Verbrisser,

Tom Verbrisser,

Tom Verbrisser