Angus looked at me. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked.
I got out, saying nothing. Stewart, as usual, was there to help me.
When we arrived, there had been shouting, swearing and loud music of the high-pitched, prolonged-guitar-solo type. When my crutches touched the ground, everyone turned. The music, shouting and swearing stopped abruptly, and all we could hear was the sound of my crutches crunching on the gravel and some birds finding their voice for once. The three of us walked in the silence towards the café doors. Everyone watched.
We managed to make it to the doors before a mountain stood in front of us. I call him a mountain. He was tall. He was wide. He was also bald and tattooed. He had a long, tangled beard and large, calloused hands. He placed one of those hands on my chest.
‘Cripples not allowed in here.’
‘Let us in,’ said Angus.
The mountain turned to him. ‘Jocks get crucified,’ he said with a pleasant smile.
‘Sassenachs get their balls cut off,’ said Stewart, his knife already placed just where he could carry out his threat.
A number of bikers moved in. I could see our mountain wondering whether the knife could do any damage before someone took us.
‘I’d like to speak to the Black Angel,’ I said, before anyone could make a move.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Just tell him Matrix would like a word.’
‘And who the fuck is Matrix?’
I took off my sunglasses and smiled. ‘Guess.’
***********************
The Black Angel reached out his hand to my face and I moved back. ‘You can look, but you can’t touch!’ I growled.
He pulled his hand back.
‘Are they for real?’ he asked.
‘They’re as real as my father’s,’ I said.
‘You know my name; how come?’
‘When I was a child, I used to spend many hours with my friend in his father’s garage. I picked up on the bikers’ gossip. You were often mentioned.’
‘Give me some names.’
‘I know Iron Man.’
He laughed. ‘Everyone knows Iron Man. He’s almost as famous as me. Give me more names.’ I did so. He was impressed. ‘I knew your father,’ he said. ‘Or rather I knew of him.’ I thought he would. ‘What do you want?’ he asked.
‘You, your biking friends, all of you, all of the gangs.’
‘What for?’
I smiled. ‘There’s going to be a revolution – and guess what? You’re going to be the good guys.’
He thought that was very funny.
Chapter 70
November 2039
We all sat together at the doctor’s house and scrutinised the media reports.
‘I don’t understand it,’ said Angus. ‘We actually seem to have some reports in our favour?’
‘So we do,’ I said.
‘These lists,’ said Andrew. ‘We now know who belongs to Fabian and who they’re targeting, is that right?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘What will you do with the information?’
‘You want the truth?’
‘I’m not going to like it, am I?’
‘We recruit the targets,’ I said. ‘Some we can recruit now, some we’ll do closer to the time. We know who they are; they’re targets for a reason; it doesn’t automatically make them Brotherhood friends, but it’s a start.’
Andrew nodded. ‘And NF members?’
‘You know the answer to that, Andrew. They’re dead.’
Andrew went pale. He didn’t want to hear the truth.
‘The good news,’ I said, ‘is that we’ll not be using suicide bombers to bring down the power stations or the media. I’ve found our genius.’
‘Who?’ asked Andrew. ‘Not Fly? You haven’t persuaded Fly? He seemed very sure.’
‘No, not Fly, my chess partner ...’
‘I’m your chess partner!’ spluttered Andrew, instantly alarmed.
I laughed. ‘My electronic chess partner; his name is Cyclops.’
‘What sort of name is that?’
‘Cyclops was a giant with one eye from ...’
‘David, I know my Greek; that’s not what I meant, and you know it.’
‘Cyclops is his code name, Andrew.’
‘Do you know his real name?’
I frowned. ‘All you need to know is that his name’s Cyclops and he’ll be our main weapon in the revolution.’ In fact, he would make it all possible. He had already met Fly, and they had brought together some skilled saboteurs to work on the problem.
Andrew still seemed unconvinced. ‘How do you know we can trust him?’
‘He’s already a Blood Brother.’
‘How do you know he can do it?’
‘He’s had a practice run.’
Andrew looked puzzled.
‘The pod in London,’ I explained. ‘He blocked the rescue services; without him, we could never have saved those children.’
‘But that’s not the same as bringing down those Corporates.’
‘He knows that. As I said, he’s working on the problem, and he’ll make the revolution work. Without him, we’re buggered.’ I ran my hand down my leg feeling the hurt. ‘It’s not enough, though,’ I said. ‘We need more information.’
‘Such as?’
I thought for a while. ‘I need to get into the social care network, right into the heart of it. I need the names and contact details of all those families betrayed by Section Twenty-six.’
‘Your friend Cyclops ...’
I shook my head. ‘I need the information now. We can’t go hacking into systems until we’re ready, and we don’t want to alert anyone. I need some good old-fashioned stealing – you know, downloading some information files from the heart of the social care network.’
Andrew frowned. ‘A Matrix worm?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Do we have one?’
‘Phaedo’s agreed to help me on this one. He has contacts. He’s already made his first approach.’
Andrew sat frowning, thinking it over, listening again to my words in his head, and all the time his frown deepened. He knew who Phaedo was; he’d met him when he’d come visiting me with Elijah; he was making connections, and he was very good at that. ‘David,’ he said carefully. ‘This Cyclops, he isn’t ...?’
‘Yes,’ I said shortly.
He gazed at me in astonishment and suddenly a look of compassion crossed his face. ‘That must’ve been hard,’ he said.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. He knew.
Angus, who had been sitting hunched over his computer looking baffled, interrupted us at this point. He was still scanning the media pages. ‘There are reports here saying that there may be cause to doubt who’s responsible for the recent spate of deaths of Fabian supporters.’ He glanced at me, and I saw the realisation creep in. He grabbed hold of me by the sleeve.
I pulled angrily away. ‘Don’t touch ...’
‘Don’t give me that shit!’ cried Angus. ‘I’m meant to protect you; how can I do that when you sneak off?’
‘I didn’t sneak off.’
‘What’s going on?’ asked Andrew, totally confused,
Angus turned on him. ‘Are you telling me you didn’t know?’
‘Know what?’
‘Let’s all calm down!’ shouted Stewart into the storm.
Everyone was silent. I slumped sullenly, and Angus glared at me. Andrew was still confused. Stewart and Euan exchanged looks. ‘Now,’ said Stewart. ‘Could someone please explain what the fuck this is all about?’
Angus scowled. ‘Matrix has been to visit his boyfriend without me.’ He flashed me an angry look. ‘What was the problem, pretty boy, worried I’d spoil it for you?’
‘We’re all Blood Brothers,’ said Andrew. He turned to Angus. ‘You owe David an apology.’
Angus merely crossed his arms, and his scowl deepened.
But I was in my dark world – a
world that had created me, a world I had never wanted to be a part of but could never leave. Andrew was watching me, and I swear he knew I was slipping away. ‘What’s the problem, Angus?’ he asked calmly.
Angus knew he had gone too far. He sat up straight. ‘Matrix said he knew someone in the media who might give Bràithreachas some support. We agreed to go together for his own safety, and now it appears he’s already gone and done it by himself.’
Andrew glanced at me. ‘David ...?’ he said softly.
‘Yes,’ I muttered. ‘I’ve spoken to him myself, and if you want to believe I fucked him as well, that’s your problem.’ I stood up, pulled my crutches to me and left.
I had gone myself, without Angus, for purely selfish reasons. I knew someone who worked in the media, a man the other me had known, a man who belonged to a past I no longer owned, and I didn’t want the General anywhere near it. So I had gone with Phaedo, a friend I would trust with my life, and we had secured some much needed help – help that could be used now and in the future.
As I swung slowly up to my house, a shadow was already waiting for me. Angus could move much faster than I could. ‘I’m sorry,’ whispered the shadow. ‘I should trust Matrix more.’
I opened the front door of my house. ‘Wait until you see the photographs,’ I said, and I closed the door in his face.
***********************
We needed publicity photographs, but I didn’t want my face to be shown everywhere. The photographs were taken of my naked torso – my mutilated body – for all to see. It had taken a great deal of courage, but I had eventually agreed to it.
The picture was in black and white and showed my body from the neck to my hips. I had my arms crossed over my chest. You could see the tattoos on my hands and body as well as the scars and burn marks. Both fists were clenched. In one hand I held a knife and in the other a gun. The picture was uncompromising in its clarity and detail. It held, at the same time, pathos and defiance. It was rage, passion and rebellion. It was the picture of a discard on the loose – angry and ready for revenge. It was destined to symbolise the revolution.
Chapter 71
December 2039
Another knock on the door in the middle of the night, close to Christmas, and I was opening my front door to Angus. He pushed his way in. Sonia and Elijah were woken up too. He glanced at them and then me. ‘Matrix,’ he said softly. ‘Tanya needs you, now.’
That was all he said, all he needed to say. I got dressed without a word, and Sonia stood by watching me. I touched her before I left, and she shivered. ‘This is not what you might think,’ I said.
‘I know.’
I held her, and I wondered what would happen if I never returned, if this was my last trip, if this was the trip when Matrix finally died. She was gazing at me, a look of longing on her face. I felt totally inadequate. She understood as well as I that something had happened – something Angus was not saying – and she was desperately worried. Perhaps she, too, thought this might be my last trip. She gave me a hug, and I left.
Before I left the house, I signed to Elijah. He was very good at signing. I was able to say exactly what I wanted. I said goodbye, and I asked him to tell Sonia that I loved her. It was the best I could do.
***********************
Tanya’s apartment was totally wrecked. Her furniture, carefully accumulated over the years, was broken. Her clothes had been torn and defecated on. Someone had daubed fascist slogans on her walls in blood – her blood.
I prayed that she was already dead when they had done that, but I doubted it. Her death had not been swift. It had not been painless. It had been slow, and she would have been in agony until the end. She would have welcomed death when it came. Her poor body was proof of that.
She was trussed and gagged with a pair of her own underpants. They had mutilated her body. Her ears, nose and breasts had been sliced off. Her body had been torn and ripped, and she would have lived through most of it. Her killers meant her to suffer.
Being a prostitute is a dangerous profession. She knew that. She knew she would die young, probably at the hands of some sexually depraved sadist, some monster that lurked in the dark and saw her as an easy target. This was always a possibility. Sometimes she would speak to me about it: her fear, her dread of being the unlucky one, as she called it, the one that fate had marked out to fall victim to some nightmare. It was always a possibility and, when the fear loomed large, she would take her trusted needle and ease the fear, drive it away with her friend, her favourite pen.
The drugs, strangely enough, were not a necessity for her; she genuinely wasn’t addicted to them. However, she did need them in another way; she needed them to help her walk the streets at night when the dread became too much. At some points in her life, I guess, they were her only friend.
Euan had not persuaded her to leave her profession. In the end, she never trusted his love for her. He had not brought her God; he had only brought her death. We knew that. One of the things her killers had done to her was carve the Fabian mark on her back, and one of the slogans on the wall told it all.
For the Brotherhood whore.
***********************
We had to get out.
Bràithreachas was going to be blamed for this, and we needed to be sure we were gone. We had to leave her poor wee body. We had to take Euan away.
Euan was the one who had found her. He was paying her a visit. He had been to her apartment a number of times before – and he had been seen, that was clear. He didn’t need us to tell him why she had died. By the look on his face, he already knew it. Stewart was with us and took charge of his brother. I gave some orders to Angus. I had some ideas where we might have a weakness in the Brotherhood, but I needed to be sure. I sent Angus off to run some tests. I was sure that we had a traitor. Meanwhile I had someone else’s safety to secure – someone very important.
***********************
I sat in the convent in a daze, wondering whether the nuns would allow me to see Caitlin. I heard footsteps, soft footsteps, the steps of someone used to walking in silence, and I looked up. A nun stood over me. She was not what I expected. I expected a long flowing gown and a head encased in a wimple. Instead, I was gazing at a tall, thin woman in a neat black dress and scarf. She wore glasses and a frown. I suspected she rarely took either of them off. Behind those glasses lurked two shrewd grey eyes. She looked me up and down. I wondered how much I matched Caitlin’s description of me.
‘I am Sister Donna,’ she said crisply. She sounded like an efficient nurse. ‘Mother Superior will see you now.’
I followed her through dim wood-lined corridors. It was still the early hours of the morning. Only fear had driven me to come calling at this time, but they had let me in and, as we walked, I was sure I could hear movement in the rooms we passed by. I paused to listen. Sister Donna turned, realising that I had stopped. ‘We start our days early, Mr Cameron,’ she said. She carried on walking. ‘You have sharp ears,’ she said, adding with a mutter, ‘like a wolf.’
I was taken into a book-lined office. In the centre of the room was a large dark-oak table. Behind the table, on the wall, was a huge crucifix; Christ was in torment, as usual. He writhed on the cross in agony, his face contorted with pain. Blood seeped down his body. It was the only gruesome object in the room – everything else was comfort and security – but his pain dominated. I didn’t even want to look at it. I concentrated, instead, on the small plump woman sitting behind the desk.
She too wore glasses, thick glasses that obscured her eyes completely. Her sight was obviously very poor, without her glasses anyway. I was acutely conscious that she was observing me very closely. She was dressed the same as Sister Donna. She was older, in her fifties, and softer looking. Next to her sat another nun, who looked like a stick insect. She was all angles and elbows, with tiny features. She too was scrutinising me closely.
‘This is Sister Maria,’ said the Mother Superior. ‘Please, sit down.’
<
br /> I sat down gratefully. The three nuns looked at me expectantly.
‘You have sad news, I understand,’ said Mother Superior.
‘Caitlin’s mother,’ I said. I hesitated. ‘I’m sorry, but how much do you know about ...?’
‘We know that Brenda was a fallen woman.’
Brenda?
‘But she always tried to do the right thing for Caitlin.’
‘Even though her father has not always been here for her.’
‘It can’t have been easy.’
‘She chose her way.’
‘She was closer to God than you might think.’
They were talking between themselves, forgetting I was there.
‘Brenda had a heart of gold. She fell by the side, but God will have found a place for her ...’
‘We offered her a place here, you know?’
I jumped. Sister Maria was talking to me. ‘I didn’t know,’ I said. Why would I? I never even knew her real name. ‘What did she say,’ I felt awkward, ‘about me?’
‘She’s written it all down,’ said Sister Donna.
‘So we would be sure.’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand,’ I said, genuinely confused.
Both sisters looked at the Mother Superior. She smiled patiently. ‘Brenda always understood the danger of ... what she did. She worried about what would happen to Caitlin, should anything untoward occur. She wrote down very clear instructions as to what we should do if she were to ... pass on.’ She passed a slip of paper across to me. I looked at it. It was written in tiny close script. There was no way I could read it. They were all watching me and waiting.
‘You may read it,’ said Sister Maria. ‘It concerns you.’
I passed the paper back. ‘Perhaps you could tell me what it says ...’
‘You are an illiterate?’ said the Mother Superior.’
The Dream Catcher Diaries Page 44
