Joni looked at the scale of the buildings around her. Tens of thousands of people must live and work in a place like this, she thought.
So where is everybody?
It was colder in the shadow of the buildings. She shrugged off the backpack, had a drink and put her jacket on before continuing. She felt suddenly stupid. It had seemed like a clever idea, picking a random name on the Underground map. Now, she wished she’d done some research first. It would be dark soon, and she was in a place she didn’t know, which was eerily deserted.
She turned and made for the station, walking fast. As she walked, she felt increasingly vulnerable. Every building rose for many stories above her. Each window might contain someone who was watching her, right now. A young girl, on her own. She quickened her pace.
As she turned the final corner before the station, she stifled a sob. The gates were locked, the doors closed. The small man was nowhere to be seen. Joni ran across and stood in front of the glass doors which had slid apart automatically for her just twenty minutes ago. They stood motionless now. She tried to force her fingers into the tiny gap between them, but they were shut fast. She kicked them in frustration.
“Hello?” she called, as loudly as she dared through the quarter-inch gap where the doors didn’t meet. “Hello?” Her voice echoed away into the empty station. The cleaner must have gone home for the night.
Ok, Jones, what now?
Oh.
She reset.
26
She was back at the station gates. The small man was looking at her. She smiled, turned on her heel and went back into the station.
“Changed my mind,” she said. He went back to his sweeping.
Joni didn’t know how many different train lines converged on this station. Some of the ones she’d seen on the map at Westminster seemed to have four or five different colors heading in different directions to places she knew as little about as Canary Wharf.
She decided to head back to the platform where she’d disembarked. There had been trains heading in the opposite direction as hers had arrived. She would do it right this time. Get back to the heart of the city and ask for help at a tourist information center. She had no idea how the bald man intended to follow her, but she knew he would try. She could make things difficult for him by asking for details of lots of hotels, then picking one at random. That would throw him off the scent, surely. She would stay one night in a place, then move on. She had enough money to last her a few months if necessary. But she didn’t want to run forever. She was going to need a plan - sooner, rather than later.
Joni realized she couldn’t remember exactly which of the wide corridors she needed to take. She felt a slight flutter of panic.
Calm down, Jones.
She shrugged off her backpack and placed it at her feet. After taking another mouthful of water, she listened carefully. If she could hear the announcements they made, she could head toward the sound and find her train. She created another reset point.
As she listened, she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. They got closer quickly. Someone was running toward her.
Joni looked around for somewhere to hide. She was standing in the middle of an open concourse. There were small stores on either side, but they were locked.
While she was still standing frozen with indecision, the runner appeared. It was a girl who looked to be in her twenties. Her long red hair, pulled back into a ponytail, was swinging wildly as she pumped her arms, sprinting as fast as she could.
When she saw Joni, her eyes widened comically, and she skidded to a stop, unsure as to whether this newcomer represented a threat. It took her about half a second to decide that she didn’t, then another half-second to make a decision.
“Hide!” she hissed. Joni looked at her blankly, then registered another sound in the empty station. Another runner heading toward her. No, this time there were multiple footsteps, heavier, approaching fast. The redhead grabbed Joni’s arm and pulled her to the side of the concourse. Joni made a grab for her backpack as the surprisingly strong woman dragged her.
“My backpack!” she said, pulling against the woman.
“No time!” Joni continued to resist and was shocked and horrified when the strange woman slapped her across the face.
“Do you want to find out what they do to pretty girls?”
Joni followed her as she ran toward the door of a boarded-up store. The door had a heavy padlock on it. There was no way they would have time to open it before their pursuers reached them. As they approached, the redhead raised a hand and the door suddenly looked less substantial, more like heavy drapes than solid wood. The woman didn’t even attempt to slow before jumping at the previously solid door, and Joni followed without thinking.
It felt like jumping through spray from the ocean, only warmer. The woman held up a hand, and the door was solid again.
Joni looked at her. “You’re a—,”
“Yes,” whispered the woman, putting a finger to her lips. “Now shush.”
The two of them crouched behind the door and listened. The running footsteps got much louder, then slowed suddenly. Joni, her heart sinking, realized they must have spotted her backpack.
“You see her?” The voice was male, the accent East London, like Mum’s. Joni wondered how Mum felt about life on a tiny island when she’d grown up in such a busy city. Then she marveled at her brain’s ability to focus on trivialities when she was in imminent danger. She wasn’t sure it was a particularly useful quality.
She glanced round to look for another way out if their hiding place were discovered. The store’s interior was dark, but not pitch black. The light from the fire exit still emitted a sickly green glow. Enough for Joni to see the door was blocked by piles of boxes.
Knackers.
Another one of Mum’s favorite words.
Joni nudged the stranger and pointed at the back door. Surely she could use Manna to get them through the barricade? The woman shook her head, whispering, almost inaudibly, “I’m all out.”
With a sudden chill, Joni remembered when her last reset point had been set, less than a minute earlier, too late for her to choose anything other than run, or follow the redheaded woman, as she had done this time. She was in a corner - her ability couldn’t help her now.
She jumped as the door was rattled a few feet away from where they were crouching. The woman took her hand and looked at her levelly, seemingly willing her to stay calm. Joni concentrated on keeping her breathing as slow and quiet as she could manage.
“They’re all locked up.” It was a different voice, another male. There was another voice, calling from a little distance away. Joni couldn’t make out the words. At least three of them, then.
The first voice spoke again. It sounded like he hadn’t moved. He had sent the others to search. The leader.
“Forget it. She’s fast, I’ll say that for her. Once we’d lost sight of her, she could have gone anywhere. Forget the stupid bitch. We’ve got summat far more interesting right here, lads.”
Joni could hear the sound of her backpack been upended and shaken out onto the hard floor of the station. She started to get up, but the woman shook her head slowly and firmly.
“Well, well, some girly clothes, chocolate bars - ‘ere you go, Tone, don’t say I never give you nothin’. Couple of books.”
Joni heard the zip of the inside pocket. It contained eighteen of the twenty £500 disqs she’d taken. Nearly all of her money. It took all her strength not to groan aloud.
“Four, no five, disqs, chaps. All full. Might be a score on each. It’s our lucky day.” He must have pocketed the rest himself. No honor amongst thieves after all.
“Oh, hang on, hang on. This one fancies herself as a bit of a writer. Pages and pages of stuff. Looks like we’ll be ‘aving a bedtime story tonight.”
There were appreciative laughs from his friends. Joni wasn’t sure which was worse. Being robbed of everything she had, or having her private thoughts read by this
idiot. No, she did know, actually. It was the latter.
“Get a load of this. Proper chick lit.” The leader started reading aloud, adopting a proclamatory tone that heaped even more humiliation upon Joni.
“‘Why did I let myself be taken in by him?’” The others laughed. “‘It’s not as if I’m unintelligent. I wouldn’t just fall for a pretty face, blonde hair or blue eyes. I could only have felt as I did because there was some kind of genuine connection between us. I know he felt it too. How could he have treated me that way?’ Blah blah blah, broad shoulders, full lips, blah blah blah, long talks, some snogging. No shagging at all, as far as I can see. Sorry, lads.” There were murmurs of disapproval.
Joni felt the grip on her arm loosen as the voices finally moved away. Just before they became inaudible, one sentence floated back clearly: “What kind of name is Odd, anyway?”
The red-haired woman shot her a shocked glance, then shook her head, as if dismissing what she’d heard.
“We’ll give them a few minutes to clear out, then we’ll make a move,” she said.
Joni didn’t answer. After a few seconds, she sniffed.
“Oh, Jesus,” said the woman. “Don’t cry. Was it much money?”
“Enough,” said Joni, wiping her face on her sleeve. “But they took everything. And my journal…I don’t know why I brought it really. Stupid. It’s just a habit, writing every day. I couldn’t bear to leave it.”
Joni realized she was rambling, and giving information away to someone she knew nothing about. Then she decided that if she was going to have to start trusting someone, she might as well begin with this woman who had saved her from the three men.
“I’m Joni,” she said, sticking out her hand somewhat awkwardly.
“Charlie,” said the redhead. “Nice to meet you.”
She pulled Joni to her feet and led her to the boarded-up window. She listened for a few seconds, then started pulling at one of the boards.
“Give us a hand, will you?”
Joni grabbed the same corner Charlie was pulling and, with a sound of splintering wood, the nails tore free of the surround, and the board came away. There was just enough room for them to step through.
“It’s getting late. You got anywhere to stay?” Joni shook her head.
“We’ve got the best squat on the Wharf. You’ll be safe there tonight.” Charlie looked Joni up and down. “I’m not going to pry, but you look seriously out of your depth. No one comes this far along the Jubilee line alone unless they’re packing serious firepower of one sort or another.”
She shot Joni a lopsided smile.
“You’re not, are you? I don’t need to worry, right?”
Joni shook her head again. Charlie led the way to a different set of automatic glass doors. Joni frowned.
“The station’s shut now. The doors don’t work anymore, do they?”
In answer, Charlie walked toward them, and they swung silently apart.
“They always open from the inside. So no one can get trapped. Health and safety, innit? First time in London, right?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“‘Fraid so, kid. You’re lucky you bumped into me first. I don’t fancy your chances much otherwise. Run away from home?”
She looked up at Charlie now and nodded.
“Something like that. I don’t want to talk about it, really.”
“Wasn’t going to ask, Joni. It’s your business. But if I can peg you as a teenage runaway, so can others. And a lot of them won’t have your best interests at heart, see?”
Joni nodded again. She had been creating reset points every minute or so, not wanting to repeat the experience of feeling like a trapped animal. As soon as she’d created the first new reset point, she’d realized she’d lost her only chance of retrieving her backpack, but she couldn’t risk going back and finding she and Charlie didn’t manage to escape in every scenario.
They walked on, away from the skyscrapers. The buildings were smaller, here. Not all of them were boarded up, although a few were just burnt-out shells. As they rounded the next corner, Joni finally saw the water. Not the sea, but water nonetheless. She felt happier immediately. The street they were walking down had red-brick buildings facing the water.
Charlie ducked into a gap between two buildings.
“Nearly there,” she said. “Just got to fill up. Not too smart of me to let it get so low.” At the end of the nondescript passageway, Charlie knelt on the floor and placed her palms on the ground. Her body shook and she grunted as energy poured into her. Joni wondered again at her own lack of Manna ability. She couldn’t even sense the power when she was practically standing on top of a Thin Place.
Joni was beginning to formulate a theory. She remembered Uncle John telling her about closed systems. She had been trying to understand computers - a subject that was hard to study when the only example on Innisfarne was probably old enough to appeal to collectors of vintage technology. Luckily John was something of an expert. He told her that a closed system meant no third-party software could be installed. In an open system, anyone could write programs, or contribute improvements, but that openness meant the system was vulnerable to malware and viruses. Closed systems protected the software. That’s how Joni felt about her ability. It was installed at birth.
Charlie stood up, bobbing on the balls of her feet.
“That’s better,” she said. “Come on, nearly there.”
Joni followed her along the street. She looked at the water parallel to the buildings. It wasn’t the Thames - it was too regular. More of an artificial lake, fed by the river that snaked through the center of the city. The setting sun turned the water red-orange. It wasn’t a particularly large body of water. Less than half a mile away, Joni could see a couple of airplanes. One was missing its wings, and the other was a blackened hulk. The runway itself was covered in grass and weeds. It was obviously a long time since any plane had taken off or landed there.
Charlie had stopped outside one of the buildings.
“Those men who were chasing you,” said Joni. “Were they a Manna gang?”
Charlie laughed then, a genuine cackle that made her look quite different. Her face softened, and her eyes sparkled with humor.
“You’ve got it all arse-backwards, kid,” she said. “They were vicious small-minded thugs. They’re trying to wipe out Users.”
She walked up the path and pushed the door open. She smiled at Joni’s reaction.
“No need for security,” she said. “We’ve got the twins. No one could get within half a mile of here without us knowing about it.”
Joni hesitated on the path.
“You got it,” said Charlie, smiling. “We’re the Manna gang. We’re not all bad, you know. We’ve had a lot of bad press, that’s all. Come on in, I’m dying for a brew.”
Joni reset, then followed her into the house and shut the door behind her.
Northumbria
Adam spent an hour changing his appearance. The ginger birdwatcher disappeared and a goth, black-haired, with dark mascara and funereal clothing, took his place. Adam thought of this as hiding in plain sight. Sometimes, drawing attention to his appearance was the best way to conceal his identity. No one would ever link his last two personas.
He had unloaded the boat in a secluded bay, then tied the steering wheel in place, started the engine and sent it out to sea. It would be discovered drifting, eventually, and might even be traced back to the cash purchase by the quiet ginger man. After that, the trail would dry up. He’d wiped the boat clean, the knife was now strapped to his leg, and the rifle was at the bottom of the North Sea.
He walked to the road and caught a bus to the nearest town. From there, he took a train south. He disembarked after three stops, well short of the destination on his ticket. A trip to the bathroom and he came out looking like a student - mousy brown hair, heavy glasses and a T-shirt with an Oscar Wilde quote on it. He dumped the goth clothes in different trashcans, then shopped for his
next outfit.
By early evening, he had checked into an anonymous hotel and was able to make a private call on a burner cellphone he’d picked up in town. He had memorized the number he needed to call, along with hundreds of similar numbers, during his years working for the Broker.
The call was picked up after the fourth ring.
“Martin, this is Adam,” he said. There was a pause at the other end of the line. Very few people called this number asking for Martin. The voice, when it spoke, had a very slight cockney accent. Adam had dealt with him before. He was reliable. And fast.
“The Broker’s not in business no more,” the voice said.
“I know.”
“Price has gone up.”
“I’ll pay you double the usual rate if you have this information to me within twelve hours. Within six, triple.”
“What if it takes longer than twelve hours?”
“Then I won’t pay you at all. Lost your touch?”
“Yeah, right. You’re funny. Tell me what you need.”
Adam gave him every detail he could think of that might make the search easier. He had confidence in Martin, but he couldn’t help but wonder how the girl’s ability—whatever it was—might affect things. As it turned out, he needn’t have worried.
The phone rang after two hours and twenty-eight minutes. Adam picked it up and listened.
“I have a location for you. She got there tonight. Let’s talk money.”
Martin named an inflated figure. With the Broker out of the picture, he obviously saw no need to honor existing business arrangements. Still, Adam’s purpose would soon be fulfilled. Afterward, maybe, he would gut Martin and wrap his intestines around his throat.
The World Walker Series Box Set Page 81
