John’s stomach flip-flopped. “Me? Why?”
“I read your note.” She took an all too familiar piece of paper from her pocket and John’s ears burned scarlet. “I thought we should talk about it.”
“Okay.”
“But not here.”
John glanced around and saw that more than a few people from the line were taking an interest in their conversation.
“Okay.”
“Meet me after school?” She asked.
“Okay. I could wait at the gates?”
Alia shook her head. “I’m not staying long. Not today. I could see you at the Trade District though? I’ll be there later anyway. How about we meet outside the shop where you saw me last week?”
She could have asked him to meet her in Karasard and he’d still have found a way. “Great. Yes. Definitely.”
The smile she gave was genuine, but even that seemed to cost her effort. She turned and John watched her shuffle out of the canteen leaving him alone in the middle of the tables.
“What’s the matter Calloway?” a familiar voice jibed. It was Danny, carrying a large dish of steaming broth. “New girlfriend dumped you?” He laughed again and then bumped shoulders as he went past.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” John said quietly, although his whole body ached with the hope that maybe she could be.
What followed felt like the longest afternoon ever. When the school bell eventually sounded, John raced to the knife gates and squeezed through the crush of bodies to flash his ID at the school guard. It had been cold all day and the sun had barely filtered through the leaden grey sky. Now that it had finally surrendered and begun its steep descent, the temperature was quickly falling away. John pulled his thin coat tighter around his chest, mourning the loss of the thicker jacket that his dad had burned after the shooting in the Trade District last week.
John hadn’t been back there since he and Alia ran from the gunnerman. He felt guilty that he was breaking the promise his dad had rung from him not to return. There was nothing he could do though. He had to see Alia; it was the only thing he knew for certain.
The more he thought about it, the more he reasoned that his dad would understand the risk he was taking. With this in mind, he walked briskly across town until he came to the static checkpoint marking the boundary between districts. As it was, the gunnerman barely glanced at John’s card and no alarms sounded from the scanner. Somehow he kept the relief from his face and walked through the barrier.
The streets were busy with the trader traffic. Open-backed vans jostled down the cobbled streets and weaved slowly around the horse-drawn carts still used by the less prosperous traders. A military jeep moved slowly across the junction in front. The gunnermen were the only ones who could interrupt traffic without being subjected to torrents of abuse from the busy traders.
John nearly walked past the meeting place at first and it was only the shopkeeper that caught his attention. He instantly recognised that hawkish face, still showing the same sneering expression to anyone who dared pass by without purchasing his goods.
John waited on the pavement opposite, watching him with narrowed eyes. The man finished his cigarette, flicked the end into the road and ducked back into his shop. John waited in the alleyway where Alia had collapsed and remembered how scared she had looked that day. He followed his thoughts and remembered how he had placed one hand against her waist and helped her to stand up.
Suddenly, there were footsteps behind him and he felt a jolt of nervous excitement. It was Alia, still wearing her school clothes and looking little better than she had in the canteen. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her middle like she was in pain and every step took a force of will. She gave him a weak smile, but John wasn’t fooled.
“Are you still poorly?”
“I’m okay.”
“Has it been like this all day? Do you need a doctor?”
“Honestly, I’m fine. And don’t feel too sorry for me. It’s mostly my own fault.”
John didn’t understand that, but looking at her sunken eyes and washed out skin, he knew something must be properly wrong.
“Is it like before? Do you need to sit down or something?” he lowered his voice. “Do you need me to get more pills?” He hoped that she wouldn’t but also knew that he’d do it if she asked him to. Alia’s face tightened up though and she didn’t answer.
“Come on,” she said eventually. “Let’s walk.”
The alleyway was narrow and Alia led him between the high buildings until they opened out onto a large square of shops and a public house. The benches outside were all empty and in spite of the cold, Alia took a seat at the first one. John sat beside her so that their legs were almost touching. He turned expectantly, but Alia stared into the distance chewing her lip.
“It’s really cold, isn’t it?” he said.
She nodded.
“I’m glad you came into school to see me today.” He moved his leg an inch closer so that they pressed gently against one another.
“John I…”
“I meant what I said in the letter you know.” Alia lowered her head, but he pressed on regardless. “I really haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
“John please.”
“I know you’re a couple of years older than me, but it doesn’t matter. Not really.”
“John, just wait,” she snapped.
He froze, eyes wide at the rebuke.
“Why is this so hard?” she whispered before turning to face him. “Listen, I wanted to meet up today because I thought it was better I do this in person. And I didn’t want to talk about it in school, because I didn’t want you to get upset in front of your friends. I thought your letter was lovely,” she said, taking it from her pocket. “And I think you’re great. You make me laugh, you’re really kind…”
“And they’re good things,” John blurted out. He felt like he was watching the tide go out all around him.
Alia sighed. “You’ll make a girl very happy, I know you will. But that girl isn’t me. Not in that way.”
Tears gathered in the corner of his eyes and John bit hard into the side of his cheek to stop himself crying. “Is it because I’m younger?”
“No.”
“Have you already got a boyfriend?”
“It’s not about that either. I just wanted you to know…”
But John had heard enough. He snatched the letter from her hand and screwed it into a tight ball. His mouth began to pull down at the corners and his voice cracked when he tried to talk. He took a couple of steadying breaths, but Alia was staring at the ground embarrassed to hear anymore. Ashamed of himself, John threw the letter at her feet and ran.
He stopped on the main street, suddenly aware that people were staring at him as they went past. He wiped his eyes with one sleeve and then wandered aimlessly for some time, finding himself back at the checkpoint. The bulk of the school crowd were migrating across the Trade District now, mixed in amongst the everyday shoppers. John turned off the main street, refusing to let any of his friends see that he’d been crying.
He waited until most of them had moved on and replayed the conversation with Alia over and over in his mind. How could he have believed that she would ever like him? He was angry at himself for ever writing the letter and humiliated that he had cried and thrown it at her when he left.
A jolt of fear ran through him when he realised he’d left the letter lying on the ground. What if someone else read it? Anyone at school would know immediately who had written it. If Danny Saunders found out, he’d tell everyone.
Seized by a sudden urgency, John rushed onto the main street and retraced his steps to the centre of the Trade District. He convinced himself that his most embarrassing secrets had already been laid bare for everyone to see. Breathing hard, he reached the alleyway and tore along it towards the pub where he and Alia had been sitting.
A young couple stepped into view and he skidded to a stop to avoid bowling them over. It
was Alia, still holding his letter which was now spread flat so that she could show it to the man standing beside her. John looked at his face, one that he knew as well as his own.
It was Ryan, one arm draped casually around Alia’s shoulder. She at least had the grace to look embarrassed, but Ryan’s face was a mask. Any joy at seeing him alive was quickly snuffed by a surge of anger. John reflected on all the worry and heartache both of them had caused him. All the sleep and tears he had lost only to find them here together, reading his letter.
That was when he finally grasped what they had done. He remembered how angry Ryan had been, the last time they spoke. How he had promised to get back at him for keeping a journal about Brynne. His brother had known about the love letter and persuaded Alia to meet up with him. John looked at the bench where they had been sitting earlier, slowly piecing it together. When she had first sat down it seemed an odd choice, but now he saw how it was overlooked from the front window of the pub. With a shake of his head, he imagined Ryan watching from the window. Laughing as it all played out. The betrayal made him want to cry, but he refused to shed another tear for either of them.
“Were you in there?” he said quietly, pointing at the window. “Did you see it all?”
“John please,” Alia said. “It’s not like that.”
He snatched the letter from her hand and waved it in their faces.
“How about this? Did you both have a good laugh about it?”
For the first time he noticed the lumps and bruises on Ryan’s face, but beneath those, it was the same mocking expression, just masked beneath a feigned look of confusion.
“John listen,” he said, “it’s not what you think.”
“Ryan, just let me talk to him,” Alia interrupted.
“Yeah Ryan, just let her talk,” John parroted. “She’s good at doing your dirty work. Dad was right about you. All this time I kept protecting you and sticking up for you, but now I finally see it.”
“John, wait.”
“No. I hate you. Both of you.”
He shoved between them and ran through the square and towards the checkpoint. His mind searched for words deep enough or dark enough to say to them. He couldn’t find any that satisfied though and turned his mind to how he could get his revenge. They needed to be hurt as much as they had hurt him. They needed to know what it felt like to have something special twisted and turned against you. Then it came to him and with a new sense of purpose, John strode through the checkpoint and back towards school.
Chapter 38
By the time he saw the featureless walls of the Informer Station, John’s anger was cold and controlled. Exactly what he needed for a task like this. He waited out of sight and planned what he would say to cause maximum effect. When the last of the post-school informers had drifted away, he moved around the outside of the building and entered through the large white door.
Inside was a grand atrium that housed an enormous plinth and copper figurehead of Premier Talis. Aside from that, the room was bare. The opposite wall and those on either side had each been partitioned into eight smaller cubicles though and all of the doors were standing open. John approached the closest one and took his first look at an informer booth.
As he stepped inside, the door closed quickly behind him and with a gentle click, the room was illuminated in a soft yellow light. John gave the door handle a gentle tug, but found it was fastened in place by a magnet along the top of the frame. On the opposite wall was another door, which he guessed led outside and to the rear of the building. He nudged it forwards and a small crack opened up. At least he wasn’t trapped inside.
Beside him was a black telephone receiver hanging from a clip. The ribbed metal chord made a delicate loop and then disappeared into the wall cavity like a rat’s tail. With sweaty palms, John lifted the receiver and heard it whir against his ear. A line clicked open and an official sounding voice spoke to him.
“Informant’s line.”
“I’ve got information about someone,” John said dropping his voice deeper. “He lives in a chapel in the Worker District in Straybeck.”
The questions from the official came quickly and calmly as though he were reading off a script. Why is he of interest? What has he done? Where exactly is the chapel?
John answered as fully as he could but refused to say that his brother was involved. He might hate him, but he didn’t want him in The Cathedral. Besides, he knew it would be more satisfying to ruin his brother’s plans by informing on Brynne and having the chapel shut down.
“I’m not sure what street it’s on. It’s near an old underground station though. From the outside it looks empty, but he lives underneath the chapel. There are stairs at the front near the altar. He has lots of people visiting.”
“What kind of visitors?”
John explained how these visitors sometimes put up posters on the factory walls or delivered bags of stuff to houses in the Slum District. All the while he could hear keys tapping away on the other end of the phone as the official was typing it up. He smiled to himself, imagining how Ryan would feel when Brynne was arrested.
“What does he look like?” the official asked.
That was when the hairs prickled on John’s neck. The call was taking much longer than he had thought and it was the third time he had been asked that question.
“I’ve already said that. Listen, I need to go now. I’ve told you everything I can.”
“Just a few more questions sir. It won’t take long.”
“I don’t have time,” John said, panic rising. The official’s voice grew stern though and his questioning changed tack.
“What’s your name?”
“Why do you need my name?”
“I don’t really. I know you’re in booth one at the Straybeck Central Informers Station. We’ve recorded the call and there are cameras throughout the building.”
John looked up and saw a black box with a blinking red light attached to the ceiling. Behind him, a bolt clunked into place on the exit door.
“I want you to stay where you are,” the official said. “I want you to wait for the gunnermen to arrive.”
All they need is an excuse.
John dropped the receiver, leaving it to clatter and swing against the wall. He heaved his shoulder against the door, but it wouldn’t shift. In a panic he whirled round and tried the one he had entered through. It creaked towards him a fraction, but the magnet held firm.
John wiped the sweat from his hands and steadied his foot on the doorframe before taking hold of the handle again. This time he heaved backwards with all his might and the door separated from the magnetic plate with a bang.
In an instant he was across the atrium and sprinting past the sculpture of Talis before bursting out into the school grounds. He had barely made it a dozen steps before a shout reached him. John stopped, certain to see a gunnerman waiting. Instead, he found Mr Matthews, briefcase in hand. He looked first at John and then at the Informer Station.
“Calloway?” he said. “What is it? What have you done?”
John didn’t know how to answer.
“Tell me. Quick.”
“I’ve informed on someone. A man that Ryan’s been meeting.”
Mr Matthews strode forwards, dropping his briefcase and taking a knee before him. He grabbed John by the top of each arm, his grip painfully tight.
“Did you tell them Ryan’s name?”
“No.”
“Yours?”
“No.”
“Then leave and don’t tell anyone else what you did.” When John didn’t respond, he shook him to life. “Go.”
“But they said I had to stay,” John was close to tears. “And there was a camera in the ceiling.”
“The cameras,” Mr Matthews groaned, his jaw clenching tight. “Okay, leave that to me. Now run.”
Chapter 39
Robb limped off the train, along the platform and out of the station. It had been a long day and his legs were throbbing b
y the time he reached the road. He grimaced and sucked in a great lungful of air, berating himself for being so frail. Even so, he checked his pace and took it slower than usual on the long walk home.
“Robb?”
The voice startled him more than it should have. He hadn’t known anyone on the train and he was sure that none of the commuters had followed him from the station. He spun round too quickly and the movement sent an agonising cramp up his right leg. Robb gritted his teeth against the pain and found himself staring at the enormous figure of Kellie Downs. The sevener was in full uniform and closing fast, a troubled expression on his face.
“I need you to be straight with me Robb. What are you mixed up in?”
The question took him off guard and for a beat he had no answer. The sevener leaned closer and the next thing he said was almost a whisper.
“They’re going to raid your house. Now. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Robb thought about their last conversation on the town hall steps. The unspoken doubt that had lingered on from the past. “Have you done this?”
Kellie’s face twitched. Robb had seen it many times, usually before the big man lost his temper and someone else lost their teeth.
“I’ll let that one go,” he said. “I don’t know why they’re coming for you, but the warrant came through an hour ago and they’re keen to get it done. I’ve managed to tag one of mine along, but he can’t help you if they find something.”
Robb felt his chest constricting. He’d always been so careful to stay under the radar. Thirty-three years he’d played by the rules and all for nothing. An image of Ryan’s room and the loose floorboard flashed into his mind.
“Shit.” He span round and lurched towards home.
“I’ll do what I can to slow them down,” Kellie shouted after him.
Robb gave a nod of thanks and then loped away. When he reached the static checkpoint, he was already breathing hard with a sheen of sweat upon his forehead. Luckily, the gunnerman was a regular and Robb gave him a pained smile.
“Always in a rush,” he said conversationally.
Straybeck Rising: Calloway Blood: Book one (Calloway Blood 1) Page 23
