by Mark Robson
As the two raptors entered the square, they could see that a gigantic holo-projection in front of the spire was showing a picture of the spire doors. Nipper grunted. The Council must have set it up to ensure even those furthest from the main action could see what was happening. It was clear they wanted as many as possible to bear witness to the deaths of the rebels.
The closer they got to the front of the crowd, the more closely packed the multitude of raptors became. But even here, Grunt’s menacing warning penetrated and the bubble of space around him, though smaller now, carried them right through to the barriers that had been erected to keep the very centre of the square clear.
The two raptors arrived not a moment too soon. As they reached the barriers, the doors to the spire at the heart of the City of the Imperium slid open and Claire, Alex and Einstein were led out and down the steps into the Central Plaza. The three captives had their hands bound in front of them. The heads of Alex and Einstein hung down on their chests, but despite showing signs of having taken a severe physical beating, Claire’s head was up, eyes flashing with defiance. A phalanx of raptors from the Imperium Guard followed them, spreading out on either side as they descended the steps. On a raised dais in the centre of the square three sharpened impaling posts had been erected, each about two metres high.
The main doors to the spire, having closed behind the party of prisoners and guards, opened again and two by two, the eight raptors that formed the High Council of the Imperium emerged and arranged themselves in a line at the top of the steps, resplendent in their ceremonial garb. Nipper looked up at them and a burning knot of anger ignited inside him. It was these eight raptors who were responsible for hiding the true reason for the appearance of humans in this world. It was they, through their iron control over the holographic news network, who insinuated blame and shaped anti-human public thinking. Yet they were also quick to use human technology and intelligence when it suited them.
He looked first at the Council, bloated with self-importance and power, and then at Claire Cutler walking upright and undeterred towards certain death. It was little wonder that some of the top raptor scientists had chosen to follow this female human’s lead. She had admirable qualities, worthy of the greatest of raptor hunters.
The crowd around Nipper and Grunt were beginning a rhythmic chant, calling for blood, baying for the death of the rebels.
‘Try to get the crowd behind me,’ Nipper growled, preparing to make his move.
‘Fight well and live,’ Grunt responded.
Nipper could delay no longer. In a single enormous bound, he leapt over the barriers and roared. His mighty challenge cut through the chanting of the crowd like a claw through soft belly flesh. Stillness and silence spread through the raptors in an outward ripple and Nipper repeated his roar, calling out the ritual raptor challenge with every fibre of his being.
‘Blood for blood. Life for life. I demand the right to challenge.’
Raptor guards sprang to surround him, but Nipper stood firm, looking up to the Council for a response.
He felt taut. He felt strong. Any doubts he had harboured about making this challenge had gone. This was the right thing to do. Not just for Sam and Claire, but for all of raptor-kind. Unless voices like those of Claire Cutler were heard, the High Council would continue to manipulate public opinion unchecked. They had wielded ultimate power unquestioned for too long. It was time for someone to test them.
The Council turned to one another, speaking quickly in low voices. At the front of the crowd, Grunt began a simple new chant.
‘Challenge! Challenge! Challenge!’
Raptors around him picked up on it, adding their growls to his, and the chant spread until it thundered around the plaza. Nipper bared his teeth in an expression of satisfaction. The Council would have little choice. This was too traditional a ritual for them to ignore. The crowd had witnessed the challenge and supported it.
The holo-cube cut to the face of the Voice of the Council. The giant image looked down with contempt over the crowd.
‘Silence!’ it ordered, the voice so amplified that it boomed like thunder round the city centre. The eyes of the Voice flashed with anger as he waited for compliance. ‘What right do you have to challenge here, citizen? These rebels are traitors. They have defied the Imperium and committed acts of terrorism. They are justly scheduled for execution. Do you wish to join them?’
Nipper took a deep breath. He was preparing to shout his response when he realised that the holographic image above him had changed. The holocamera had been trained in on him. He could only assume his voice would be amplified as that of the Voice had been. It was.
‘They are my kindred,’ he said, his voice sounding sure and unwavering. ‘I adopted the humans, and the raptor you hold captive is my blood brother. We have hunted together. I claim family justice as is my right by tradition. I am the head of my house. I claim my right to judge and to set my own punishment for their crimes.’
The crowd murmured their approval and somewhere in the middle, the chant began again.
‘Challenge! Challenge! Challenge!’
It spread quickly. The High Council gathered into a huddle at the top of the steps. They did not discuss the matter for long. The voice of the crowd could not be denied. The chant was echoing around the Central Plaza with one gigantic voice. They could do little but concede to tradition.
The Voice of the Council called once again for silence, the gigantic hologram of his face staring out over the crowd from above the plaza. Slowly, the chant died away.
‘We will honour your right of challenge, youngling. Is there one who would fight for the Imperium?’
‘I will,’ barked a raptor voice from near the base of the steps. ‘I will accept this human-lover’s challenge and see justice done here today.’
Nipper looked round to see where the voice had come from, but he didn’t need to find the source to know who had uttered the words. Sure enough, out from among the lines of guards at the base of the spire stepped a familiar figure. Large, with dark scales and a line of puncture scars across his thighs, it was the raptor from the train: the one from the Imperium’s secret police; the one Nipper suspected had killed the Brad-human.
A low, menacing wave of growls raced through the crowd as they saw who was stepping forward. It appeared Scar, as the boys had named this fearsome raptor on their first meeting, had a reputation in the city.
The Voice of the Imperium nodded his approval. ‘Thank you, Captain. I’m confident you will ensure the will of the Imperium is upheld. Continue.’
Nipper glanced across at the prisoners. Claire Cutler mouthed the words ‘Thank you’ but he did nothing to acknowledge her. He could not afford to demonstrate anything other than righteous anger until this was over. The guards ushered the prisoners to the side of the execution platform and changed formation to clear a large square area in the plaza for the two combatants to face off in.
Scar strode forward and entered the open square. He looked strong and powerful. Nipper could see instantly that his opponent would have the advantage of weight and reach, but Nipper remained calm and focused as he assessed his enemy. This was no soft city raptor that knew nothing of the hunt. He was lined in many places with the scars of combat. Nipper had no doubt that this raptor had done little but fight all his life. Would he have areas of weakness? Maybe the legs with the line of puncture scars? He did not seem to favour one or the other, but given their nature, Nipper found it difficult to believe Scar had not suffered lasting effects from those injuries.
Stepping forward into the square, Nipper moved to face off against his opponent. Scar’s eyes were shining with anticipation and he was baring his teeth in a broad grin. The air was alive with the chants of the raptor crowd, urging the combatants forward as the gigantic holographic projection overhead displayed them on a scale that made them appear like titans. Nipper knew better than to be distracted by such things. He ignored Scar’s face and blanked out the tumultuous noise and t
he shifting images overhead, concentrating instead on a point in the centre of his enemy’s chest. At a spacing of about five paces, they began to circle, each assessing the other for signs of weakness.
From the top of the steps, the Voice of the Imperium barked a single word.
‘Begin!’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Niamh was surprised when her Aunt Aggie pulled up outside a nondescript building. Was this really the place? It looked more like a social services centre or a doctor’s surgery. She gave her aunt a quizzical look.
‘This is the address I was given,’ Agatha confirmed, unfolding a sheet of paper from her pocket to double-check. She nodded. ‘Yes. This is it. Come along. Let’s not be late.’
She climbed out of the car and Niamh followed suit. Her aunt looked particularly chic today in a designer outfit that had no doubt been chosen especially to make her look the very image of prosperity and respectability. From the moment Niamh had seen Agatha in the hallway, she had felt positively underdressed. Agatha had raised her eyebrows at her choice: jeans, ankle boots, a T-shirt and a short leather jacket; but had not said anything. Adjusting her jacket, Niamh had thought for a moment about changing, but decided against it. She knew she did not look particularly smart, but at least she was comfortable. What image was she portraying with her choice of clothes? She had never consciously considered using her clothing to shape people’s perceptions of her before, but looking at her aunt, it was easy to see that it worked.
Agatha blipped the car with the remote locking device on her key and led Niamh up to the door. A smart young woman met them there. For an instant, Niamh was tempted to turn and run. Gritting her teeth, she fought down the panic she felt welling inside.
‘Agatha Barrington?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘And this must be Niamh.’
The woman’s smile as she held out a hand for Niamh to shake was warm and friendly. Was this a front? Would her dark side emerge once they were inside? She was petite and smartly dressed with her shoulder-length blonde hair backcombed and held neatly in place with a black hairband.
‘Please, do come inside. Niamh, I’m sure you’re probably nervous about today, but there really isn’t any reason to be scared. I’m Detective Constable Kathryn White. I know I don’t look much like a police officer dressed like this, but I can assure you I am. Here, let me show you around.’
Niamh followed her aunt through the front door and into a corridor with several doors along each side. Eyes roving, she scanned the interior. The first doors on either wall were open and the detective constable was indicating for them to go into the room to the left.
‘This is where we’ll be having our chat.’
Niamh tentatively stepped inside. The small room was furnished with three comfortable, cream-coloured chairs decorated with loose cushions covered with childish animal designs. There was a small coffee table in the centre of the room and a big open-topped box of toys in the corner. Mounted high on two walls were cameras on top of which were perched toy monkeys. DC White saw Niamh take in the cameras.
‘Do you know what those are, Niamh?’
‘Cameras. . .’ she answered, feeling slightly patronised. ‘I’m sorry. What do I call you? Constable? Ms White?’
The policewoman laughed.
‘Detective Constable White is a bit of a mouthful, isn’t it? Just call me Kitty, Niamh. That’s what my friends call me and, as nicknames go, I think it’s quite nice. And is it all right if I call you Niamh or do you prefer something else?’
‘Niamh is fine, Kitty,’ Niamh repeated, saying the detective’s nickname shyly. Despite being alert with nervous energy, she found that the woman’s easy manner was seductively relaxing. She would have to be careful if she was going to avoid saying things that could be twisted and used against her dad.
‘Great. Now, Niamh, I know some of the questions I’m going to ask today might seem a bit silly to an intelligent girl like you, but please bear with me. It’s an important part of my job to make sure you understand exactly what’s happening, so when we begin, I will run through some simple things for the record. Those cameras up there will transmit everything we talk about today through to that room over there where it will be recorded. Let me introduce you to my colleague, Detective Constable Colin Barker, who will be monitoring us throughout. Kitty and Barker . . . sounds like a kids’ TV show, doesn’t it?’
Niamh smiled. ‘I guess it does a bit.’
The room on the far side of the corridor was the same size as the interview room, but this one was dominated by a desk with a couple of TV screens and a DVD recorder.
‘If you’d like to follow me, I’ll show you the rest of the place,’ Kitty said, leading them out into the corridor again.
There was a toilet, a small kitchen, a waiting room and a medical examination room that had everything in it that you would expect to find in a doctor’s surgery. Niamh didn’t want to think too much about the reasons for having this room. It was a stark reminder of the sort of crime victims that would be brought to this place.
When they had finished the tour, they returned to the interview room.
‘Now, Niamh, where would you like to sit?’
‘Here’s fine,’ she replied, taking the chair nearest to the door.
‘And would you like your aunt to sit in with us or would you prefer it to be just the two of us? It is totally your choice. Whatever you feel more comfortable with.’
Niamh thought about it for a moment.‘I think I’ll be OK on my own, but what would you prefer, Aunt Aggie? I don’t mind.’
‘I’d like to sit in, if that’s all right,’ Aggie replied. ‘At least for a little while.’
‘That’s fine, Mrs Barrington,’ Kitty assured her. ‘In fact, if you could just be filling out this consent form for me, I’ll check with Colin that we’re all set and we can get going.’
DC White nipped across the corridor and back again, closing the door behind her and taking the remaining chair in the corner of the room. She had a folder of papers in her hand and proceeded to leaf through them until she found the form she wanted. Taking out a pen, she checked her watch and made a couple of notes on the top of the form. Agatha finished filling in the form she had been given and handed it over. Kitty checked it, nodded and thanked her before turning her attention back to Niamh.
‘Right, Niamh, for the tape I’d just like to repeat a couple of things. Firstly, I’m Detective Constable Kathryn White, though you can call me Kitty. You know we’re here today to have a bit of a chat about what’s been going on recently. I’m a police officer from Banbury Police Station, so you know who I am and you know what I do. Now, before we start talking, I have to do a bit of an introduction. So if you could just listen to what I have to say, then we can talk, OK?’
‘Yes, that’s fine,’ Niamh said, feeling a twinge of nervousness again.
‘Great. It’s Thursday 5th August, and by my watch I make it eight minutes past ten. I’m in an interview room with Niamh Cutler. That’s correct, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘And Niamh’s aunty – would you like to introduce yourself?’
‘Certainly. I’m Agatha Barrington, the sister of Niamh’s father, Matthew Cutler.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Barrington. My job here is to have a bit of chat with you, Niamh. We’ve already talked briefly about what’s going to happen, so you know what’s going on today. As you understand, you’re not in a police station and you’re not in any trouble. You’re actually here today to help me do my job, and if you have any problems or concerns at any time during this chat, feel free to tell me, OK?’
‘Yes, sure.’
‘You’ve had a good look around and met my colleague, DC Barker, in the monitoring room. Are you happy with everything you’ve seen?’
‘Yes.’
‘Brilliant. If you need a break at any point, to go to the toilet, or to get a drink, or some food, or for anything else for that matte
r, will you let me know?’
‘Yes, sure.’
For the next five minutes or more, DC White explained in painstaking detail what was happening and checked with Niamh that she understood exactly what was going on. Niamh quickly realised that Kitty was working from a checklist and there were going to be no short cuts. Kitty took time to establish, through telling a simple story, that Niamh understood the difference between truth and lies, and the importance of telling the truth to prevent any possibility of the investigation being misdirected. She explained that she would be taking some notes for her own benefit and that if Niamh didn’t understand any of the questions she was asked, she should make it clear so that the question could be rephrased in a way she did understand.
The introduction seemed to go on and on, and Niamh began to wonder just how long it would be before she was asked any meaningful questions.
‘So, Niamh, in your own words, can you tell me why we’re here today?’
After the extended preamble, the question took Niamh by surprise. She thought for a moment before voicing her reply.
‘I guess we’re here because you . . . the police think that my dad murdered my brother and his friend.’
‘Right. . .’
Niamh waited, expecting another question. It didn’t come. After a moment of silence, she realised that Kitty was waiting for her to explain in more detail. She took a deep breath. Where to start?
‘Well, we were on holiday in the Florida Keys: Dad, Sam, me and Callum, Sam’s friend from school. Dad insists we go there every year, because he’s still a bit obsessed with finding out what happened to Mum after she disappeared nine years ago. He’d gone out looking for clues one day when the boys . . . well, Sam actually, decided to borrow Dad’s boat to go out fishing. That’s when they disappeared. Dad didn’t have anything to do with them disappearing. He wasn’t even there when it happened.’
‘So you were on holiday in the Florida Keys with your dad, your brother and his friend. Your dad went out and the two boys took your dad’s boat to go fishing. Why do you think your brother took your father’s boat out?’
