Carlotta Bosco

Shouldn’t have opened that door. Carlotta Bosco repeats those words to herself on a daily basis. The door in question lies deep beneath Goodge Street Station, on a corridor linking the WW2-era deep level shelter with a tunnel system missing from contemporary maps. It was a freelance commission, that was all. Photos of Hidden London – a much-needed shot in the arm for her portfolio.
To this day, Carlotta has only the scantiest memories of what happened in the chambers beyond. Mist. A dark shape with too many arms, clutching a lantern blazing with sickly green light. Gunshots. Her first solid recollection was of staggering out into the sunlight of Tottenham Court Road, dragging a bleeding, unconscious body. A day later, the police cut her loose. A still-bruised Don Fitzwilliam, impressed by courage and quick-thinking Carlotta couldn’t recall, extended an offer of ongoing employment – one Carlotta frequently regrets accepting.

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