Hello, you just a short episode this week. It's a short chapter,
you see, And well there's no news from me, so yes, it's
a wee one. It's a little tiny shaw like me. Yes, yes,
quite. And so let's rewind back to me in twenty seventeen giving the
recap for this episode over at Patreon in episode twenty seven. Now Here,
of course, I'm referring to the Underwooden Finch Underground podcast over at Patreon.
Meanwhile, here we know that particular episode as season four, episode fourteen or
thereabouts. But anyway, we saw David chase Damo into Hoburn's station, and
unknowingly he was pursued by Whitmore of the OCU, who was in turn unknowingly
pursued by Glover of the Sect. One guy who saw all of this was
Ronnie Bishop, the journalist that David meant in the pub on the opposite side
of the street to Hoban Station. You may remember they'd had a little quid
pro quo chat about the London vampire case, what David knew, what Ronnie
knew, and so on, before David spotted Damo on the other side of
the street and ran off after him. You may also recall that Whitmore,
the OCU cop who chased David into the station, had a partner, one
Phil Sloane, who stayed behind to keep an eye on Ronnie and call in
to the OCU to report what was happening. Well, that is where we
are now. Back there, Damo, David, Whitmore, and Glover have
just run into hobn Ronnie has his camera out, and Sloan is ending a
call on his mobile as you and I re enter Underwood and Flinch, Season
five in Tannerbress, Written and performed for podcast by Mike Bennett. This podcast
is intended for an adult audience. Listener discretion is advised. Episode six,
Ronnie Bishop watched the four men chase into Hoburn Station through the viewfinder of his
pocket digital camera, snapping pictures as quickly as the mechanism would let him.
When the last of the four had disappeared into the station, he'd taken five
pictures. At least one of them would be good enough to attach to the
newspaper story that was already taking shape in his mind, but there was no
time to view them now. The story was still happening, and he had
to get after he pocketed the camera and hurried down to the pedestrian crossing outside
the station. He didn't notice the man following him, nor indeed had he
noticed him all day. Detective Constable Phil Sloane of the OCU, whose partner
Jeff Whitmore was one of the men Ronnie had just photographed running into the station,
now stepped discreetly into line, a few pedestrians behind Ronnie, his eyes
flicking between the journalist, the station entrance, and the status of the traffic
lights. Sloane had just got off the phone to Guy Valentine, recounting to
him as briefly as he could how Bishop had met with a man called Dave,
with whom he'd had a conversation that mentioned both Coleridge and the Malleus,
before Dave had suddenly broken off to go in pursuit of a fleeing man he'd
addressed only as Damo. Not wanting to lose this new lead, Whitmore had
gone in pursuit of Dave and Damo, leaving Sloane alone to maintain surveillance of
Bishop. Valentine had told him to stay on Bishop and to keep him updated.
Sloane was keeping his phone in his hand for As the lights changed and
Bishop set off straight for the station entrance, he had a feeling he'd be
needing it again very soon. Ronnie knew that whoever Dave was, whoever this
damo was that he was chasing, and whoever the men were that were chasing
them, they were heading for some kind of rucous and when it happened,
he meant to be there. He entered the station amid the swarming people inside.
He looked for signs of chaos, for indicators that might point to which
way the men had gone. Beyond the ticket barrier, he could hear shouts.
Three Transport Police officers were running in the direction of the ACA escalators.
As Ronnie waited impatiently in line to pass through the ticket barrier, he listened
to snatches of chatter from the staff. Nutjob got up between the escalators and
tried to slide down. It could have broken his bloody neck. Then to
laughter, I hera a love toous scene. Nate. Ronnie reached the barrier,
slapped his Oyster card onto the scanner, and passed quickly through. As
he boarded the escalator and began to descend, he saw ahead the cops were
now at the bottom and running in the direction of the Piccadilly Line. Ronnie
stepped to the left of the escalator and began to hurry down as fast as
he could. As he went he noticed scuff marks, as if from slipping
feet, on the sheet metal surface of the divide between the escalators. Were
these the tracks of the nut job the staff had been talking about, and
if so, had it been Dave Damo or one of their pursuers. When
Ronnie got to the bottom, he ran around to the escalators that led deeper
down to the Piccadilly Line. Here the crowds were thinner and he was able
to hurry down faster. But as he rounded the corner into the tunnel for
the platforms, he saw a crowd was forming at the entrance to the eastbound
platform four. Ronnie pushed through to the front of the throng, where he
came up against the chest high metal barrier that had been placed across the width
of the tunnel. The blue uniformed staff who were manning the barrier were already
busy fielding the questions and demands of the passengers, and now one of them
was raising his hands to draw the attention of the whole crowd. I'm sorry,
ladies and gentlemen, but there's been an incident on the platform. All
east bound services are temporarily suspended. The replies were loud and numerous. What
kind of accident? Well, I've got a beard on this is bloody typical.
For how long is there a bus service? Obviously Dave and his mates
were the incident, and this was where the copse had gone, but going
by the looks of things, nobody else would be following them for some time.
Ronnie turned around and made his way out of the now angry mob.
When he emerged, it was into a stream of passengers flowing from his right.
A glance at the signage told him they were coming from the exit passage
to the same platform, so that route had to be wide open. Pressing
himself to the wall, he made his way against the flow of people,
many of whom were talking excitedly. But when he reached the exit passage he
found a second barrier, manned by staff intent on letting only departing passengers through.
Still, since these guys weren't fending off an angry mob, they might
be more inclined to share a few details. Ay Ronnie said, interrupting a
conversation between two of the staff. What's going on? Lines closed, Sir
said one. You'll need to take an alternative route. Yeh, but why
what's the story? Sam Looney's running to the tunnel, said his colleague.
No train's going nowhere till they've got in. Is that the same bloke what
ran down between the escalators? The two men glanced at each other, silently,
acknowledging that Ronnie might be someone they shouldn't be talking to. Then the
first guy said, we couldn't comment on that, Sir, You'll have to
go back now. I'll come on, fellers, said Ronnie. Give a
bloger break on press freelance. This is my bread and bad. This is
sorry, mate, can't help you. Talk to the TfL press office.
You know the number, you don't? I just thanks for bleeding bunch.
With this sour expression, Ronnie turned away and joined the now thinning flow of
passengers from the platform, who, it immediately occurred to him, had all
seen something of the incident beyond the barrier. Excuse me, he said,
pulling out his dictaphone and latching himself onto a young couple in animated conversation I'm
with the press. Can you tell me what's going on down there? As
they continued to walk, the man balked slightly at the recorder that Ronnie thrust
out into his face, but replied, Uh, yeah, A couple of
guys lying on the platform, not sure if they were dead or unconscious.
There were guns, too, added the woman lying on the ground neath them.
Guns, said Ronnie. What kind of guns? The woman looked flummoxed.
Oh god, I don't know. But what kind were they? Jack,
I don't know. Weird looking things, weren't they? Ronnie tried to
narrow it down a bit. Pistols submachine guns? Oh no, said Jack,
suddenly confident. No, they weren't machine guns. More like pistols.
Yeah, like pistols, said Ronnie, frowning. What do you mean?
Will they look kind of plastic? That? They had loads of wires coming
out of them tasers, thought ron Were there any wires sticking out of blokes
lying on the platform? The man and woman chimed in harmony from their bodies,
maybe their torsos or their legs. What you mean like a robot,
said the woman with a guffore. Ronnie suppressed an eye roll. No,
I mean, He realized there was a little point in trying to explain.
Instead, he switched tack. Was there any blood, no, said Jack,
not that I could see. Okay? And how many are these guns?
I saw? Too? Said Jack. He looked at his companion questioningly.
Lizzie, Yeah, two, she confirmed? What paper you with?
Whoever pays the most, said Ronnie. Was there anyone in custody? What
do you mean anyone in handcuffs? Oh? No, just people showing us
out. Will it be in the mail, maybe, said Ronnie. What
about the blokes on the platform? Can you describe them? Young? Old,
fat? Thin? Blimey? I don't know, said Lizzie, looking
to Jack for corroboration. Thirties forties, yeah, said Jack, not young,
put it that way. One more a suit, the other. I
think he had a jacket and jumper, you know, with a roll neck.
Ah, said Ronnie. So it wasn't Dave or Damo. Sounded like
their pursuers that had some kind of taser shootout. That's great. Tell me
did you see anyone run into the train tunnel? Blimey? No, said
Lizzie. Why did someone do that? Ronnie turned to Jack. You didn't
in nobody saying anything about anyone running into the tunnel. Jack shook his head.
No, I bet it was the killer, wasn't it, said Lizzie.
He is caped into the tunnel. Well, we don't know if there
was a killer, said Jack. Maybe they aren't dead, Yeah, because
maybe they are a couple of robots, Lizzie laughed. Ronnie knew he'd got
all he was going to get out of them. Okay, thanks, you've
been a big help. What are your names? After taking their names and
assuring them he'd credit them, Ronnie spoke to another passenger with whom he rode
back up the escalator. This guy didn't add anything new, but his descriptions
of the men on the platform confirmed to Ronnie that neither of them were Dave
or Daimo, and as he returned to the ground floor of the station,
he was wondering which of them had been the one to run into the tunnel.
Suddenly, he was roused from his thoughts as the crowd before him began
to part, making way for what he saw was a team of black clad
firearms officers. He pulled out his camera and managed to get a few shots
of them as they ran past him. In the direction of the escalators going
down after the man and the tunnel, no doubt, he thought, But
which one, Daimo or Dave. The order of the chase suggested Damo would
have got down there first he could have caught a train, and then Dave
would have come down to see that train leaving. And then the other two
had run in and shot each other with tasers. Why it didn't make sense?
And why didn't Dave just exit the platform with the passages from the newly
arrived train, Whatever the reason, Most likely it was Dave who had run
into the tunnel, so where was he going? Damo would have been long
gone if he'd caught a train, but if he hadn't. If Damo had
also missed the train and had run into the tunnel, and if Dave had
seen him do it but no one else had, then he would have gone
after him. That made sense. The men lying on the platform didn't matter
for now. What mattered was where Daimo and Dave were going, assuming they
hadn't stepped on the third rail and fried to death, or the cops hadn't
caught up with them. He saw a tube map on the wall and trace
the dark blue Piccadilly Line East with his finger to Russell's Square. The police
could or ready be there. Most likely they were, but there was always
a chance that they weren't. Ronnie smiled. A minute later he was out
in the street and hailing a taxi. We're to, asked the driver,
Russell Square Station, and don't spare the horses. And so Ronnie goes off
to Russell Square Station, hoping to find Damo and David, though as we
know, he won't find them because while he's doing that, David will be
in custody at Hoburn and will, as we know, be rescued or rather
retrieved by the Sect before going on to be reunited with Underwood. I hope
you've enjoyed this little diversion into what Ronnie did next, because we're far from
done with him in Underwood and Flinch. The music you're listening to is Ahmad
Ahma by Farid Fajad from the album and Rusa Volume four, courtesy of Taranay
Records and our good friend Fahwaz al Maloud. You can stream the track from
Spotify, YouTube Music, Google Music, and all the other music streamers out there.