Work In Progress

Extract from Sleeping, a new novel by Barry Upton, to be published at the beginning of 2021.

Seventy-year-old Malcolm is “sleeping”. His life as a spy is behind him, but when a letter arrives it brings him back into a dangerous world. Or perhaps Malcolm is what the rest of the world believes – a Walter Mitty fantasist. 

Malcolm looked around him as he descended into Monument Station. This was the most dangerous part. The stick was awkward on the steps, so he lifted it as he took the steps, holding it like a weapon as he descended. Through the barrier and down the escalator and onto the platform. It wasn’t busy and he could stand back from the edge and watch people as they emerged onto the platform. He didn’t know who he was looking for: man, woman; young, old? Would he be able to tell? They were masters of subterfuge and disguise. How could he tell? The train noise built in the tunnel. It burst round his ears and then slowed and stopped. He waited for the doors to slide open, stood back to let off a single passenger, weighed down with three shopping bags and a rucksack. At the last minute he boarded, and felt the doors slide shut behind him. Ten stops on the Circle Line dragged by. He sat where he could see along the carriage. His stick was held ready. It was a club as well as a stick, but what chance would he stand against a trained killer, a determined assassin? At King’s Cross Malcolm emerged blinking into the late afternoon sunlight. He walked through the vast new concourse and, alongside all the others waiting to return northward, he looked up at the departures board. Hs train was ready; he stood aside from the moving throng and dug into his coat for his wallet. As he pulled out the ticket, he felt his hand nudged and his wallet fell to the floor.
“Hey…” he called out. Is this it? Have they come for me here in full view? “Watch out…” He held his stick. “Sorry, mate. Here let me help you.” And the boy picked up the wallet from the floor and handed it to him. “Leave me alone!” was all Malcolm could think to say. And he shouted it into the man’s face. “We’re not all muggers and thieves, old man.” And he was gone. He steadied himself. His heart was beating fast. He returned his stick to the floor. He started towards the electronic gate. He was only a foot away when he felt his arm grabbed. “Leave me alone. Leave me alone.” It was all he could say. If these were to be his last moments he wasn’t going without a fight. The stick was in his hand again.
“Leave me alone.” He turned to face his pursuer. It was a girl. A young woman. She held on to him. He tried to shake her off. They’d found him. “Leave me. I’ll call the police.” “Grand-dad. It’s me. Your grand-daughter. Louise!”