Retalio

by Alison Morton

  ‘I know it’s going to be extremely disruptive in the next few months, but if we make a big push now, you’ll be back in your own home this time next year.’

  She smiled at me. I heard a sharp crack. Lucia looked startled. Her mouth opened without any sound. Blood dribbled out and she crashed to the ground.

  ‘Down!’ I shouted. ‘Get back from the edge.’

  My pulse leapt.

  More shots. A thunk from near the entrance. Then another. More above us. Then further up, but louder. Answering fire. I crept on my stomach towards Lucia. Her still eyes said it. I laid my fingers on the pulse in her neck. Nothing.

  ‘Vale Lucia,’ I murmured, then signalled two of her people to pull her body away from the edge. I grabbed my radio.

  ‘Calavia, Mitela. Start emergency evac now. Be ready for enemy at tunnel exits. Over.’

  ‘Confirm. Enemy below estimated at four times six. Over.’

  ‘Pick your targets and discourage. Require covering fire for evacuation of lower caves. Over.’

  ‘Will do. Out.’

  Crawling on my stomach, I edged up to the entrance. Behind me some whispered snatches but mostly stunned silence. Nobody moved. I glanced down. Calavia could observe better from the top cave, but I saw well enough. Three small armoured personnel carriers with a driver and six troops in each. Regular legionaries. And a jeep with the red splodge on the side and black figures clustered round it. Nats. Damn. The nats were fair game, but firing on regulars with the intention of neutralising them went against every instinct.

  Shots rang out from above. Two black-clothed figures by the nat vehicle fell. I crawled back half a metre from the edge and turned to face Lucia’s crew. Terrified eyes, angry faces and numb shock greeted me.

  ‘Anybody a good shot?’

  Nobody moved.

  ‘Look, we have to move, and quickly. Some of us might not make it, but if we don’t, we’ll all be dead in minutes.’

  A woman with dishevelled hair edged up to me.

  ‘I—’ She sniffed. ‘My name’s Tulla. I used to shoot for my legion when I did my national service, but that was a good twenty years ago.’

  I grasped her shoulder. ‘You’re in the same place as I am. Welcome! Take the right edge at the entrance.’

  She gave a brief nod and crawled to her place. Somebody touched me on my shoulder. Two young faces, sixteen, perhaps seventeen years old, both pale, but eyes full of fire.

  ‘We’re gamers. Him and me, we play as a team. We can both aim really good. But we only ever used guns as cadets at school.’

  Gods! Children.

  ‘Apprentices?’

  Both nodded.

  ‘Take the left and tell me what’s going on.’ I edged back then crouched in the back of the cave, beckoning the rest of the group to follow me. One by one, they crawled into a huddle round me. Four of them still had their rifles.

  ‘Can you use that?’ I pointed to the weapon on the back of a middle-aged man with spectacles.

  ‘Yes, but my aim isn’t that good, especially in this light.’

  ‘Then hand it over to the two apprentices. Take them through it for a couple of shots first.’

  He unslung it slowly and gripped the beautifully polished stock as if it were the imperial crown.

  ‘It was my mother’s favourite, I—’ he said.

  I held my hand out.

  He looked undecided. Then a shot cracked against the cave edge. He thrust the rifle into my hand and dived for the floor.

  ‘Boys!’ I shouted to the apprentices. They scuttled back.

  ‘The legionaries are spreading out and hiding in the scrub between the castle and the bottom of the cliff,’ one blurted out.

  ‘Yeah, and Tulla, you know, the forewoman you said to shoot, she bagged one of them!’ The other grinned for an instant. Then realising we were frowning at him dropped his gaze to the floor. I handed the first boy the middle-aged man’s rifle.

  ‘Listen carefully to this man and take great care of this. I want it back in the same condition.’ Not a whisper of a prayer to Mercury of that happening, but they calmed. ‘Now get cracking. Pick them off one by one. No messing about.’

  They took the rifle back to the left edge. The man crouched behind them, first instructing them, then encouraging them. My radio buzzed.

  ‘Mitela, Calavia. Fifty per cent are out, no opposition at tunnel entrance. Your situation? Over.’

  ‘Pinned down but targeting individual enemy. Move imperative. Over.’

  ‘Agreed. Diversion imminent, prepare to move. Out.’

  What in Pluto’s name was she going to do?

  * * *

  Terrified, but lined up ready to go with a single backpack each, we waited. Tulla and the boys were still firing sporadically and shots from all three caves had kept the opposition pinned down. But they would have radioed for backup. How much longer did we have?

  Even counting the seconds logically, two minutes took a lifetime to pass. The sun was dipping on the horizon now. If ever we needed the dark it was now. Then a shower of small objects whizzed past the cave entrance, then another. A crash on the ground followed by several whoomphs.

  ‘Fire!’ one of the boys shouted. ‘The scrub’s on fire and they’re running like fricking pigs towards their trucks.’

  ‘Go!’ I shrieked and pushed the first one of Lucia’s people toward the cave exterior. She grasped the rope and scampered upwards. I pushed them all out as if they were a parachute line. Then more missiles from above. The climbers carried on, but I ducked back. Smoke plumed up, joining that from the burning scrub. I jerked my head at Tulla and the boys, the only ones left.

  ‘Get going! Now!’ I shouted.

  ‘But—’ she protested.

  ‘Do as I damned well say,’ I growled. She stared at me for a moment, then slung her rifle across her back and grabbed the guide rope that led upwards. The boys followed close behind. I glanced down as I grasped the rope to the path upwards. The scrub was burning less and the smoke from Calavia’s smoke bombs was dispersing. Claudia’s people had gone ahead. As I neared Claudia’s now empty cave, I was almost blinded by the beam of a massive spotlight on me. Oh gods, I was a target in a shooting gallery. I froze for a nanosecond. Shots came from above. The crack of glass splintering. The beam went out. Eyes still dazzled, I grabbed the rock face, pulling myself the last metre and threw myself on the cave floor, ducking the bullets that flew around me.

  I gulped for breath, air rasping my throat. I lay slumped on the cave floor for a minute or two. The smell of ash, dirt, my own sweat, hit me. Ow, my face was sore. I sat up, and flicked gravel off it. My radio buzzed.

  ‘Mitela, Calavia. Report.’

  Her message was terse, but I could hear the anxiety in her voice. I pressed the rocker button.

  ‘Calavia, Mitela. All in one piece, but bruised. Over.’

  ‘Thank the gods. Can you get up here?’

  ‘Give me five. Over.’

  ‘Not possible. Look outside.’

  I crawled to the edge. Snaking up the road in the dark, full headlights shining, were at least a dozen vehicles.

  Merda.

  I pulled myself up. My legs trembled. I stumbled to the cave entrance. At least the night had come down. I pushed the radio button.

  ‘On my way. Out.’

  Shots came from above. My cue to go. I gripped the rope as I made my way upwards. The top cave was twenty metres up, six floors of an average building, and my legs were like wet tissue. Shouts came from below, shots from above. I was caught between two worlds.

  Luckily, the first part was along a narrow ledge rising steeply, but enough room to place both feet side by side. I plodded on, the staccato rattle from above continuing. Finally, I had to scramble up the last few metres then my fingers found the blessing of the rope ladder. Hands reached down. Atrius. I was so pleased to see his face, I grinned like an idiot. He wouldn’t have seen – I was in the shadow – but that didn’t matter.

  B
efore I could thank him as he pulled me in, the cliff face shuddered and the cave next to ours exploded with a deafening boom. The blast demolished the wall of ours and rock flew everywhere.

  ‘Back!’ I heard Calavia shriek. ‘Get the fuck into the tunnel.’

  Atrius half pushed, half dragged me into the blackness. A cool breeze smelling damp touched my face. We rushed on for several minutes. Somebody lit a torch with a red filter. The tunnel became narrower, wound round to the side, the floor rose, the ceiling came nearer.

  ‘Nearly there,’ Calavia shouted back to us. ‘Mind your heads.’

  A minute later, the four in front of Atrius and me stopped. I eased forward. The stars. I saw the stars above us, then the moon. Luna, welcome! We climbed up through a shallow shaft and emerged onto the surface in a thicket of brambles and gorse.

  ‘Quick, into the trees,’ Calavia said. The ground shuddered under us as another blast hit the cave below. Mortars. They were using heavy mortars. If we’d been there, we’d have been blown into shreds of flesh.

  26

  Calavia gave me a quick nod before she busied herself directing people off to their allocated placements. Then she herself vanished into the gloom. The gods watch over them.

  Frontius gathered Atrius, the young guard with the gunshot wound and me from the trees on top of the cliff and accompanied us through the city outskirts into the empty countryside. We pinched a bicycle to transport the injured guard; she was falling over with exhaustion and running a temperature after the escape through the tunnels. Atrius marched along, his arm round her waist and his shoulder supporting her weight. I sent a prayer to Mercury, patron of thieves, to ask forgiveness from the bicycle owner.

  We holed up overnight in a farm outbuilding three kilometres out of the city. It was dry and the farmer gave us blankets, painkillers for the injured guard and meat rolls and water for us all. He said little, just nodded at Frontius as he closed the door. I didn’t want to, but we stayed another day so the injured guard could rest. My stomach was in knots most of the day, but I managed to doze when I wasn’t keeping watch. By morning the young guard’s temperature was more or less normal, thank Juno, so we moved.

  The horse and cart Frontius borrowed from the taciturn farmer made steady progress. Atrius sat up at the front, occasionally exchanging a few words with Frontius, but mostly silent. The young guard – she could only be in her mid-twenties – was sleeping. I’d made a rudimentary sling from a scarf to stop her arm being jolted all over the place as we drove over the rough surfaces, and pulled a blanket and one of the empty sacks over her. Our biggest worry was being stopped by nats or vigiles, but the farmer assured us the country roads were seldom patrolled now.

  We hadn’t seen a single private car on the road. With a collapsing economy the price of fuel had rocketed. I saw several garages with petrol pumps closed as we made our way west. The dirty signs, some with the plastic coverings broken and the unlit lamp showing through, displayed horrendous prices. Anger rolled through me at the dilapidation and desolation of my country and the misery Caius had brought about in such a short time.

  After an anxious and chilly night camping in woods west of Aquae Caesaris when Atrius and I took turns on watch, we approached the frontier area. This could be the most dangerous part of our journey, but Frontius seemed unconcerned. At least the slow journey on winding roads had given us time to take in the shattering events at the caves. I only prayed Calavia had got everybody out to the safe houses.

  Unlike the first and second times I’d struggled to get out of Roma Nova, this border crossing was unbelievably easy. We clip-clopped down a minor side road which soon ran out of metalling and became a grassy track which muffled the noise of the horse’s hooves. I couldn’t see very far in the dusk as we descended to the underside of a bridge over a stream. Frontius reined in the horse and cart and we clambered down. I patted the horse, whose breath sent warm plumes into the chill air, and sent a silent prayer of thanks to the farmer. I woke the young guard who blinked, sat up and shivered. After a drink from my water flask, she assured me she was perfectly fit to go on. I doubted that, looking at her pale face, but we had no choice.

  Frontius backed the horse and cart into the trees and tied the reins to a stout branch. He said he’d return them to the farmer on his way to the city.

  ‘You don’t seem at all worried we might run into patrols, Frontius.’

  ‘We bribe the frontier guards with coffee, chocolate and cigarettes not to patrol this area,’ he offered by way of explanation.

  ‘Where do you get them from?’ I said.

  ‘We acquire them from around here.’

  ‘Acquire?’

  He shrugged, glanced at Atrius who frowned at him, then looked back at me.

  ‘I will arrange supplies for you in the future,’ I said. ‘The last thing we want at this time is a row with our neighbours over pilfering.’

  We crossed the stream, walked along a track, scrambled up a steep bank and over a fence. That was it. In front of us was the main road to the Free City of Trieste. We were in the Northern Italian Federation.

  We hitched a lift into Udine, cleaned up in the station facilities and caught the overnight train to Vienna. It was eight hours of boredom, but we managed to sleep some of the time, Atrius and I alternately on watch. The young guard with the gunshot wound was running a temperature again. I checked her arm. Blood seeped from the site where the bullet had been crudely extracted. Atrius gave her the last of his painkillers and tightened the field dressing on her arm. Thank the gods she was dozing when the ticket inspector came round.

  Once in Vienna, I phoned the Jagdschloss and Junia came to collect us. We stumbled into the entrance, bone weary, but then I smelt coffee, proper Viennese coffee.

  * * *

  ‘I think you’ve done well, very well,’ Volusenia said. ‘Of course, you had no remit to recruit people but all in all that’s a bonus. Now they’re out of those caves and once established back in the city, they’ll be invaluable.’

  ‘What about Calavia?’ I asked. ‘Are you leaving her in the city?’

  ‘For the time being. Now we have reasonably secure communication with these groups we can firm up our plans.’ She looked up at me. ‘Of course, we’ll have to expect some losses.’ I gripped my mug. I hated the thought of Marcia or her brother being grabbed in some dawn raid and hauled off by the nats for interrogation, or her young vigilis cousin. Or, Mercury forbid, Claudia Cornelia. I’d urged her to leave with me, but even before she said it, I knew she wouldn’t. I shivered.

  ‘Go and get some rest,’ Volusenia said. ‘I’ll get the photos you and that young guard took developed. And collate your notes.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘We’ll reconvene in six hours.’

  I barely had the energy to peel off my clothes. I dropped like a stone onto my bed. It was only when my eyelids were pressing down on my eyes like lead weights that I realised that I hadn’t seen Miklós. But I couldn’t fight the weight of my exhaustion and sank like a dead weight into the arms of Morpheus.

  * * *

  Junia shook me awake early the next morning at six. I’d slept twenty hours.

  ‘Why in Hades didn’t you wake me earlier?’

  ‘Because the Colonel said to leave you. You were falling asleep in the van from the station.’

  ‘The young guard, how is she? Is her arm all right?’

  ‘Slightly infected, but the doctor’s given her a shot of antibiotics and will keep her in the sick room for a few days.’

  Atrius would have recovered fast; typical fit young soldier. But there was another man on my mind at the moment.

  ‘Junia, where’s Miklós?’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t know.’

  ‘Oh. Has he been made unwelcome?’

  ‘Not at all. When you went, I think he went to stay with his nephew, cousin, whatever he is – the caretaker. ’

  ‘Lúkas.’ I scrambled off the bed and caught the smell coming from me of several days in the
field. ‘Ah. I’ll see you later after I’ve decontaminated myself.’

  I skipped breakfast and even coffee. Downstairs, I made for the back door. The morning light was pink and lemon flushing out the grey blue of the last of the night. Frost crunched under my feet as I hurried over to the keeper’s cottage. The downstairs shutters were already open and yellow light shone out of the windows. I heard voices and looked through the window. The television. Lúkas sprawled in an old leather armchair, a mug on the table to the side, and he was laughing. The sullen face he wore on the day I’d met him when Junia and I had first visited the Jagdschloss had vanished. He looked like a teenager as he threw his head back, narrowed his eyes and his mouth burst with laughter. But there was nobody else with him. I rapped on the door. I waited for a couple of minutes, and then went in.

  He turned almost nonchalantly, then sprang up.

  ‘What do you want?’ The sullen face was back.

  ‘Good morning, Lúkas. Is Miklós here?’

  ‘Does it look like it?’

  ‘It was a civil question. Is he here?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you know where he is?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Please, Lúkas, it’s important.’

  ‘He left three days ago, on his horse.’

  ‘Didn’t he tell you anything?’

  ‘We don’t stick our noses in other people’s business.’

  I stared at him, willing him to say more, but that was his last word.

  27

  ‘Well, these prove the EUS is directly involved.’ Volusenia threw the sheaf of black and white photos onto the table. I passed them round the table to the rest of the intelligence group gathered in her office that afternoon; Junia, newly promoted lieutenant, Atrius, Silvia and Quirinia.

  Silvia glanced round at all of us as if waiting for answers. The carbon copies in the ‘Sent’ file on Caius’s desk that I’d been able to photograph included a letter in English from Caius marked ‘Confidential – By Bag’ in which he thanked his CIA contact White for the recent batch of technical equipment. Caius’s initials at the bottom right-hand corner proved he’d seen and signed it.