In the Shadow of London

by Chris Ward

  ‘To Saturday,’ the man said, passing Frank a cup.

  Frank took a tentative sip, then wrinkled his nose. It was best to leave the rest of it in the cup. ‘What’s going down on Saturday? Are the bastards finally going to open the gates and let a little fresh air into this pisshole?’

  ‘It’s time for revolution,’ the first man said, bringing grunts of agreement from the others. ‘On Saturday we rise up against the government.’

  ‘Who’s we?’

  ‘Everyone.’

  Frank laughed. ‘Last week I watched three punks like you unable to agree on the best way to haul a car out of the middle of the road. And you think you’re going to stand up to the Governor? Excuse me while I don’t laugh. It gives my stomach jip.’

  ‘Word is he’s going to execute the Tube Rider on the steps of Parliament Tower.’

  ‘What Tube Rider?’

  ‘Marta Banks.’

  Frank stared. ‘I’ve heard her name. A little famous, is she?’

  The men looked from one to the other. ‘She spat in his eye,’ one said.

  ‘So now you need to spit in his other one.’

  ‘Something like that.’

  Frank nodded. ‘You wouldn’t happen to know what this girl looks like, would you? Just so an old man can build up a mental picture?’

  One man pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. ‘People been passing out these prints,’ he said, holding out a copy of a detailed line drawing of a teenage girl with a thin face and short hair tied back into a ponytail. It was artistic, designed to be stirring, with the girl in a crouch, a piece of wood at her feet, looking up towards an oncoming train.

  Frank handed the sheet of paper back. ‘She’s a princess,’ he said. ‘Worth fighting for. Good luck on Saturday.’

  As the men went through a series of high-fives and hails, Frank turned and headed back the way he had come, his appetite for a night trek down to the Tank gone. It was probably time to get to fixing up his shutters, perhaps to put another lock on the front door.

  He wished the men luck on Saturday, he really did. It had crossed his mind to point out that, having actually met Marta Banks, the girl in the picture was not even a close likeness, but whatever. If they had decided that the time was right to die on the end of the Governor’s sword, then so be it.

  For his part, he was staying well away.

  50

  Birds

  Parliament Tower itself was surrounded by a fifty-foot wall enclosing a huge area of exotic parks and gardens, but beyond it was a wide courtyard nearly a mile long which was unofficially known as Parliament Tower Plaza. Once containing other towers and office buildings, everything had been razed to leave what many people in London considered a wide killing ground, even though signs of any military presence were few.

  As David stared at Tim Cold’s map, he wondered just how easy it would be to breach those walls. The plan, of course, was to cut off the Governor’s retreat. A dotted line passing under the thicker line that marked the garden’s perimeter wall showed what Tim claimed was an unmarked Underground line.

  ‘There are two stations,’ the leader of the Tank said. ‘Here, just in front of the wall is one. We know it’s used for freight, which is taken into Parliament Tower through a gate at the far right of the wall which leads into an underground parking area beneath the gardens. But we also believe there’s another underneath Parliament Tower itself. It appears on historical maps but hasn’t been used publicly for thirty years. The official word is that it was shut down and filled in. That will be our entry point.’

  David looked around him at the cluster of men. Alongside Tim Cold were five others, each nodding in agreement with everything Tim was saying. David hadn’t been told their names. A sixth man stood back by the door, his arms folded. Lindon. Supposedly Tim’s second, David couldn’t help but feel nervous around him. Mika said that Lindon was also a Cross Jumper. Whether or not the old rivalry still stood he didn’t know, but there was a definite coldness about Lindon that made him keep his distance.

  Mika, the other person in the room, was peering at a computer screen. ‘I don’t have access to that part of the system,’ she said. ‘I’ve been trying to hack it, but my guess is that there is no official documentation pertaining to its existence.’

  ‘How can we know it exists?’

  ‘Some decades ago the Internet was almost destroyed by hacker wars,’ Mika said. ‘Nothing was safe, nothing could be trusted. It was impossible to use the Internet as a reliable source of information. Nothing on a computer system with net access was safe from attack and manipulation. The Governor countered by banning the use of the Internet and stripping everything back. Everything that can be is isolated, and anything that can be left off the net for its protection, is.’

  ‘Which means?’

  ‘That if the station exists, the only people who know about it have either seen it themselves or been told about it by someone who has.’

  The man standing nearest to Tim gave a short nod. ‘This is a risk, Tim. It’s your call.’

  Tim laid a hand on the map. ‘Parliament Square was intentionally designed with no surrounding buildings, and we have no sniper rifles good enough to cover a greater distance. The chance to strike at the Governor himself will be slight unless the crowd revolts.’ He looked up at David. ‘We will plant small groups in the crowd to incite and encourage an uprising, but our main force will enter the Underground tunnels and move by foot towards the phantom station, aiming to use the blocked radio signals to our advantage. Once inside the tower, we will need to be ruthless.’ He took a deep breath. ‘No government man who offers resistance can be left alive.’

  David looked up at the men surrounding the table. All looked grim, but all nodded or muttered words of agreement.

  All except one.

  Lindon.

  ‘Lindon!’

  He turned back at the sound of Tim Cold’s voice. ‘What?’

  ‘I need your help. This is more important than anything.’

  Lindon suppressed a sigh as he followed Tim into a small office. ‘I can’t do this,’ he said, before Tim had even closed the door. ‘I can’t stand by and watch all these people be put at risk.’

  Tim stared at him. ‘It’s too late for that.’

  ‘No, it’s not. You’ve followed these Tube Riders and their crazy plans, and you’ve put the lives of everyone here in danger. The government is not the enemy.’

  ‘As the leader of the Tank I could order your death for your disobedience,’ Tim said, his words hollow, the way Lindon had always known, and if he was honest, preferred. ‘But as the leader of the Underground Movement for Freedom, it would go against my humanity.’

  ‘Killing me for disagreeing makes you no better than those you fight against.’

  Tim smiled. ‘Exactly. Which is why I need your help. We can win this, Lindon. We have a chance. These Tube Riders have stirred up the people and the Governor has played into our hands. Are you on my side?’

  ‘I’m on the Tank’s side.’

  ‘And I lead the Tank.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Tim’s eyes had gone blank as he stared off into space. ‘We can win this, Lindon,’ he repeated. ‘We can free London.’

  Lindon resisted the urge to disagree. ‘What do you want from me?’

  ‘Dreggo.’

  Lindon shifted. His thoughts had been drifting to the girl more often than he liked of late. ‘What do you want of her?’

  ‘She controls the Huntsmen. I need her dead.’ He paused. ‘You knew her in the Cross Jumpers. You can gain her trust. I need you to arrange a meeting with her for Friday. Any sooner and the government might know our plans.’

  Lindon said nothing for a long time. Finally he said, ‘How?’

  Tim reached into his pocket and withdrew a tiny metal ball that nestled neatly in the palm of his hand. ‘This will disable her long enough to do the rest. Throw it at close range and don’t miss. Can you find her
?’

  Lindon stared at the metal ball for a long time. Finally he went over to the desk, reached out and plucked it from Tim’s palm, then slid it into his own pocket, giving a short nod as he did so.

  Tim Cold stood up. He came around the desk and clapped Lindon on the shoulder. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘We can do this, Lindon. All you have to do is believe.’

  As Tim went out, Lindon stared at the closing door.

  If I kill her, Cah dies.

  Tim didn’t look back as he headed towards his own offices on a lower level. He was beginning to regret trusting Lindon. The unflinching loyalty he had always known was wavering. Outwardly, Lindon offered the kind of disagreeing statements that could be expected of a man with skepticism, but Tim had seen something more in his eyes. The risk that Lindon would betray them was too great.

  No matter. The tiny device would do the trick. On his instruction, Mika had adjusted it slightly from the prototype Tim had given to David. No longer simply containing a disabling electric shock, now it contained an incendiary device that would destroy everything in a three-metre radius.

  Two invasive birds, one little metal stone. All Lindon had to do was find Dreggo, and he would unknowingly clear the path for Saturday’s plans.

  Tim gave a small nod. Whatever feelings of regret he had felt when he handed the deadly weapon over to Lindon were easy to shrug off.

  Sometimes people had to be sacrificed for the greater good.

  51

  Fadeout

  Benny gave a slow nod. ‘Okay. It’s on.’

  David let out a slow breath and dropped to his knees. ‘Thank you.’

  Benny lifted a hand. ‘Get up, fool. None of this kneeling business.’

  ‘But I don’t have the money—’

  Benny shrugged. For a moment he frowned, about to say something else, then he shook his head. ‘It’s a favour for a friend. Two adults, one kid. That’s it though. I can’t guarantee the safety of a bigger group.’

  ‘It’s perfect.’

  ‘My contact works through the Watford perimeter gate. I need you to meet me there at four p.m. on Saturday afternoon.’ He took a pencil from a box and scrawled an address on a scrap of paper. Handing it to David, he said, ‘Memorise it, then throw it in the Thames. This is the exact location. I need you here, and I need you to not be late. When the shit kicks off at Tower Plaza, all eyes will be turned away. We’ll never have a better chance.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Stop saying that. If this works out, people will be thanking you.’

  David nodded. Tim Cold’s plans were moving into place. All he could do was carry out his part and hope nothing went wrong. But if it did … he wanted Raine and Jake as far away as possible.

  ‘Will you be able to get them to come?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And you? You’re the third person, right?’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘What about this girl? Airie?’

  David shook his head. ‘I don’t know. If the Tank men move quickly enough, we might be able to save her. If not—’

  ‘If the Huntsmen tear the whole crowd to shreds…?’

  David shivered. ‘Just in case, I want Raine and Jake away. I owe them that after all the trouble I’ve caused them.’

  ‘Well, good luck.’

  Raine was on the bridge, waiting for him. She hugged him as he arrived, and this time he allowed himself to hug her back.

  ‘I can get you out,’ he said. ‘You and Jake. It’s all arranged.’ He explained the details Benny had told him. ‘Trust no one. Be at that address by four. I’ll meet you there, but if I don’t make it, take Jake and go with Benny. Don’t wait a single minute longer.’

  Raine lifted a hand and stroked the side of his face. ‘David … I know what’s been said and done, what’s passed between us … but for this, thank you.’

  ‘It’s the least I could do.’

  ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’

  David pulled away and shook his head. ‘Can it wait until Saturday?’

  ‘I guess, but—’

  Then it can wait. I have to go.’ He smiled. ‘You can tell me on the way.’

  ‘David—’

  He pulled her hand to his mouth and gave it a light kiss. ‘For everything … I’m sorry. I hope one day you’ll forgive me.’

  She opened her mouth to answer, but he didn’t wait to hear what she wanted to say. He turned and ran from the bridge, quickly putting as much distance between them as he could.

  It was amazing, really, how quickly their last meeting had passed. David wished there could be another way, but getting Raine and Jake out of London was all that mattered. He would miss her, of course, but their paths had separated now. Hers led away from danger, outside the city where Benny had assured him Raine could hide. His led into the heart of danger.

  He had no choice but to face it. Whether he would survive or not, he would have to wait until Saturday to find out.

  ‘Lindon….’

  ‘He’s not here, girl,’ Frank said, stroking the back of Cah’s hand. ‘He had to go out for a bit, but he’s been beside you the whole time.’ He scowled inwardly. Lying would send him to hell unless he could get whatever God had bestowed this hellhole of a life on them all to blame Lindon. If the boy wouldn’t come home, there was nothing he could do except try to ease Cah’s passing as best he could.

  ‘Lindon, I miss you….’

  ‘He was saying just the same earlier,’ Frank said. ‘Can I tell you something, um, Cah? About Lindon? I don’t know if he ever told you or not.’

  The girl mumbled a reply Frank couldn’t catch, but her fingers closed over his, holding them with more strength than he had felt from her in days. Without hearing her say it, he knew she wanted to hear. It was strange for him too, though. To say anything about the past was like opening up a floodgate. He had kept his memories as tightly secured as his house, and he feared that delving into them might bring some hint of optimism that he didn’t need.

  ‘His dad, my son, he was a good man. Him and his lovely wife, they lived right here with me in this house. Going back twenty years now, I’d packed it in with the government and was working for myself, sewing people up, sorting out people who’d got themselves in trouble, the kind of thing I should have been doing in a government hospital but wasn’t. My boy, he was running a shelter for homeless, taking in street kids. Never put a foot wrong, but every now and then the DCA would run a fucking purge—excuse my fucking French—where they’d show up somewhere and demand a confession. They’d bully people on the street, sometimes go knock on doors. If no one confessed, they’d kill you anyway.’

  He sighed, wondering if he ought to go on. The girl hadn’t responded, but every few words her eyelids would flutter as if on some deep level she was paying attention.

  ‘The bastards showed up at my son’s workplace, demanding a confession from someone. Obviously no one was interested, so they picked on some poor kid and threatened to kill him. This kid had no family, nothing. He was fifteen years old, or thereabouts, and the DCA were going to drag him out on to the street and cut his throat, for no other reason than because they could.’

  Frank paused. His chest was starting to heave, tears filling his eyes. He had blocked this memory for so long. Cah didn’t need to hear this, but now he had started, he was unable to stop.

  ‘My son, he stepped up and told them to back off. Told them to leave the kid alone. They told him to confess, and he told them to go fuck themselves.’ Frank rubbed his eyes, wiping tears away. ‘I didn’t find out what he said until later, but man, if that didn’t give me the greatest pride. Shame things didn’t work out better.

  ‘They brought my son back here. His wife answered the door, and before she knew what was going on they were inside. I was upstairs with Lindon, who was just a baby. I did what I had to do. I grabbed a roll of surgical tape and trussed him up like a bag of apples, hiding him in a cupboard, hoping we’d all get out of i
t alive somehow. Then I went and faced those bastards head on, looked them in the eye and poured my heart out to try to save my son and his wife. I confessed to every kind of crime under the sun and they laughed in my face.’ He sniffed.

  ‘I didn’t save my son.’

  Cah’s fingers tightened over Frank’s hand. She had heard him.

  ‘I survived, and Lindon survived, but my son and his lovely wife died there in front of me. I remember the guy with the knife. I’ll never forget him. His name is Soars. He was a young kid then, some punk trying to make a name for himself. Now he’s up there at the top of the tree of turds, telling all the other turds what to do. I’ve got a bullet for him, by god, and one day I’ll use it to put a hole in his evil head.’

  He paused, waiting for his heart to stop racing. ‘I brought Lindon up as my own son. I loved him, goddamn it, I loved him, and I did the best for him that I could. I know what he does. He’s no angel. He’s a bruiser and a thug but he’s got his dad in him, and his mum. He’s got the heart I wanted him to have, and no matter what he does, he’s made me proud and he will always make me proud. He’s made mistakes—more than I can count—but who hasn’t? We do what we can. We do what we have to do to get through this and hope we live to see the lights come back on. And I know one thing, girl. He loves you. He loves you more than anything. And whatever he might have done or yet do, it’s not because he’s an asshole or a vindictive prick, it’s because he thinks it’s right. That’s all I can say.’

  Cah stirred. Her eyelids fluttered and for a moment her eyes opened. A soft smile spread across her face and she drew in a long breath. Frank’s throat seemed to tighten, as his years of experience as a doctor told him what was about to happen.

  ‘Thank you … Lindon … I … love you.’

  ‘Oh, girl….’

  Cah relaxed back into the sheets with a sigh, a smile on her face as her eyes closed. Frank held on to her hand, trying not to cry as her pulse became fainter and fainter, slowly fading away until he could no longer feel it at all.