Flood Read Online Free

footman opened the doors for them, still expertly handling his umbrella. Lily and Gary scrambled into the back. The interior was plush and clean and smelled of new carpets.
    The car pulled out, forcing its way into the stop-start stream of traffic. The driver said the direct route was pretty much impassable. So he turned off the Strand as soon as he could, heading into the maze of side streets. Here they were able to make a bit more progress, before coming to a halt at a queue before a burst drain.
    The driver glanced in the mirror and grinned at them. He was maybe thirty-five, with a mass of tightly curled blond hair.“You’re the hostages, aren’t you? My dispatcher said something about it.” Sahm-fing a-baht it . He had the kind of accent that used to be called estuary, when Lily had been taken.
    “We were hostages,” Gary corrected him mildly. “We’re us now.”
    “Yeah. Fair enough. Good for you. You both American, are you?”
    “Not me,” Lily said. “Half-English, half-American. Born and raised in Fulham.”
    “OK. Well, do you mind if I do this?” He pressed a button. The little Stars and Stripes furled itself around the flagpole, which slid into the hull of the car and out of sight. “Most of the work we get is for the Embassy. But we don’t like to tell ’em that their flag attracts potshots.”
    Gary shrugged. “Fine by me.”
    The jam lurched forward another couple of meters, and the driver took the opportunity to nip up another side road. They got to the end of this before hitting the next queue.
    “So they let you out into the wild, did they? Must be a relief.”
    “I’ll say,” Gary said.
    It was, Lily thought. They still had some engagements, notably a reception by Nathan Lammockson, owner and chief exec of AxysCorp, the company which had prized them loose from the grip of the Fathers of the Elect. And then Lily would have to attend a briefing with senior USAF officers at Mildenhall in Suffolk to see if there was still a career for her in the Air Force. But in the meantime they were both glad to be free of the medics and counselors—and in Lily’s case some emergency dental work—and a little freedom was welcome.
    The driver shook his head. “Five years chained to a radiator. Can’t imagine what it was like. Amazing you didn’t kill each other. Or yourselves. Although I’ve been stuck in this car for four years, sometimes it feels like that. And married for six, and that’s the same, hah!” He glanced at Lily. “So, a London girl. Nothing’s changed much since you’ve been gone, has it? Nothing changes much, not really.”
    “I don’t remember it being so damn wet. It was wet in Spain too. You know, where we were kept.”
    The driver pulled a face. “Nah. Just funny weather. Mind you they couldn’t complete the regular league season this year. I mean the football. First time since 1939, too many matches washed out. And Wimbledon hasn’t finished in its two weeks for the last three years. There’s a bloke down the cab shelter who reckons it’s all down to the Chinese.”
    Gary asked, “What is?”
    “The rain, the floods. China’s drying out, isn’t it? Stands to reason they’d want more rain, and hang the rest of us.”
    Lily couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not.
    Again the traffic lurched forward, again the car shot through another gap and turned off. Lily tried to follow the journey. They headed roughly west and south, pushing through the maze of Mayfair streets north of Green Park. Then they turned down through Knightsbridge, heading for the Brompton Road.
    The driver saw her peering at streets signs.“Don’t worry, love, I’ll get you there.” He sounded defensive.
    “I don’t doubt it,” she said.
    “Used to be a cabbie—a black cab. This pays better. But I took the Knowledge. Of course a lot of the regular routes don’t work anymore what with the road closures and the floods. You just do your best. Half the punters don’t see that, they