“Excuse me?” said Helena.
He looked at her blankly. “OK.”
“What?” she asked again.
“We should go,” said the Hound. “I will not dream until we get to our destination.”
Helena felt like scratching her head. “Fine.”
DAVID WAS waiting for them when they arrived. He smiled at Helena when he saw the Hound. “That was quick.”
“Yes, it was rather. Easy too.” said Helena. “And you’ve been doing what, while I’ve been slaving away finding my father’s Hound?”
The Hound looked at her for a moment with clear eyes; then turned his head away as if bored by their chatter.
“Enough,” said David. “Anyway, make your mind up, it was either an easy or a slavish task, not both: mutually exclusive terms I think.”
“I suppose you think you’re clever,” said Helena, smiling thinly. “It was too easy, like he was waiting for me. I’ve been expecting someone to stop me all the way here.”
“Why would anyone expect you to take away the Hound? No one else in London knows his importance.” Seeing that she was still tense. “Relax, I was trying to make a joke.”
“Ah, that’ll be why I didn’t recognise it,” said Helena, recovering her sense of humour. “I was under the impression that jokes are meant to be funny.”
David shrugged. The lights went off in his flat as they left.
THEY CAUGHT the train south. Helena asked him if he’d noticed any sign of someone watching his flat.
David shook his head, “I’m good at what I do Helena. No one’s been near the place.”
She looked sceptical. “Trust me, woman.”
“It’s not you I don’t trust,” said Helena. “What about in the Cloud?”
“Don’t change the subject,” said David quickly. “Whether you trust others or not is irrelevant. Of course someone’s kept an eye on the building, and my life, since you offed that telepath, but they’ve kept themselves at a distance. If they were even slightly intimate with me I’d know about it. Same for my online presence, not a sniff of obvious surveillance.”
Helena was impressed; he seemed realistic about the situation and reminded her she was probably in the same position. It occurred to her that if she were being watched, then it would not take long for her guardians to realise what she was doing and move in on the telepaths. Taking public transport, for the sake of misdirection, suddenly appeared terribly naive. Perhaps going directly to their hiding place wasn’t the best idea.
“So you think they know where we’re going?” she asked.
“I believe we should act as if they were,” he said. “Even if they’re not, we can’t afford to be complacent. At some point, someone will notice something. They have teams looking for information like this at all the major firms.”
Helena found herself thinking of the AIs she’d brought online in the last week.
The Hound paid little attention to David, following closely on Helena’s heels, looking wretchedly tired. His eyes were drooping, blinking open every few seconds with the effort of a man desperately trying to stay awake.
Helena couldn’t guess at how long he had been asleep, but it could have been ever since their return from Southern Africa. The engineers who’d developed the first Hounds had taken advantage of the fact that humans had a facility for hibernation.
She comforted herself that her uncle had no cause to worry about leaving Rex behind when he had to go away.
The three of them walked down to the train terminal, Helena relaxing slightly. She’d remain tense until they had delivered him, but no one had challenged them. It was enough to help her believe she’d gotten away with taking the Hound. The platform leading out of London was relatively quiet. No one travelled in that direction until the evening. The northbound concourse was packed.
A knot of five people dressed in corporate suits were standing at the far end of the platform. Helena could tell they were Euros from the thin pin stripes of their jackets, which were currently the height of fashion within the Corporation.
Nothing like subtlety, she thought. It surprised her to see other Oligarchs travelling south by train. It was only the third time in her life that she was using public transport. Then she understood that it was no coincidence. They’d been far less careful than they could have been. Standing at the end of the platform were the consequences of assuming she’d gotten away with it.
Time to leave, said Helena’s AI a moment later.
Before she had time to agree, David turned to her and said, “That lot, down there. No, don’t look. They’re security staff.”
“Subtle,” said Helena.
“They frighten me too,” said David.
“We’ve got to leave,” said Helena.
They turned to leave the platform, only to see that people had drifted in behind them and were blocking the way. No one locked eyes with them, all pretending to be interested in the scenery.
Helena realised they were trapped. An ordinary person would make contact, even if to look away again immediately. The casually dressed crew between them and the exit were still, focussed. Nor did they move when David took a step forward, making as if to leave.
The Hound stood idly on the platform, watching those around him with a distant interest.
Denholme has been here recently, said her AI.
She scanned the people at the end of the platform and dismissed the idea; there was no way Denholme would be with them. Don’t be absurd, she thought. The chances he might be here are beyond remote.
Smell him, came the reply. Helena let her senses extend and picked up a familiar trace of pheromones. Denholme had been on the concourse in the last few minutes. Given the wind speed, number of people and temperature, her AI guessed no more than ten minutes ago he was stood where she found herself presently.
“Helena…” said David, leaving her name hanging in the air. She turned to find out what he wanted, her senses picking up the odours of the other passengers waiting on the platform. Something about them seemed out of place. She couldn’t nail the suspicion that was creeping up her spine.
“David, I’m leaving.” Grabbing hold of the Hound’s hand she yanked him towards the exit, letting adrenalin flood through her system. She found leaving harder than she expected. The crowd between them and the exit did not stand aside, or even give way when they got to them; they were determined that Helena, David and the Hound would have to go around.
Someone from the far end of the concourse shouted her name.
“Lady Woolf, will you please wait.” They could not run, there were too many people at the entrance to the concourse. It was ludicrous to hope they could lose Euros’ security staff. The Hound watched the approaching officers. There were five, two of whom had hands on holsters as if they did expect Helena to run. David stopped pushing at the Normals crowding around him and looked expectantly over his shoulder at the security team.
The Normals continued to stand around Helena and the Hound rather than melting away at the sight of a security detail heading their way. However, Helena noted that they exchanged looks among themselves as the other Oligarchs approached. The air smelt of other people’s tension.
“They’re not working together,” she said out loud.
She was trying again to pin down what the implications of her guess were when normality resumed; the Normals turned away scattering quietly, some moving off the concourse entirely, as if catching a train had become the last thing they had ever intended to be doing.
The others, two to her right and two to her left, went and stood with their backs to the outer wall of the concourse. One of them put hands over his ears; he was wearing an armoured jacket, his skin was blast toughened grey.
David caught sight of this too, frozen as he considered what he was looking at.
“Lady Woolf, please do not consider running,” came a request from the closing Oligarchs.
She had not begun to move in the moments between the security team
calling out her name and their closing in on her position.
“I’m not about to run,” she said to them, holding her palms out face up to show she was not going to resist them.
The Normals stopped their movement. It appeared balletic as if each one knew where they needed to go stand. One winked at Helena with her remaining human eye.
To the Oligarchs she said, “Who are your Normal friends?”
The closest one looked from them back to her, a look of incomprehension on his face.
I was right, she thought. Before she had time to think about what it might mean, the London bound concourse shrank slightly as air was soundlessly sucked inwards.
To Helena’s enhanced senses the polyglass covering the platform shattered in slow motion then the whole place exploded outwards in an excruciating ball of blazing white light.
The force of the explosion blew in the structure of the southbound concourse, knocking everyone to the floor with devastating force. As Helena tumbled through the air she thought, words floating in the air around her like speech bubbles, there was enough power to concuss most of them.
Helena was the second person to come around. Groggily looking around the carnage she saw that one of the Euros team was back on his feet. Blood was trickling from his eyes and ears. He staggered as if punched then tried running for Helena. He made it two strides before stopping, his face blank.
Helena couldn’t hear anything. She could see blood coming from his ears, assumed her own eardrums had been ruptured in the shockwave.
How long? She asked her AI, trying to find out when she would be able to hear again.
Four minutes, came its reply. We need to leave, the bomb was the Normals. It wasn’t Indexiv, it wasn’t Euros. It’s as David believes. Expect resistance from them as we leave the platform, they knew it was coming. We must assume they were prepared for the explosion.
Her eyes were weeping, each tear painfully sore as it tracked her cheeks.
She blinked, tried to assess the damage.
The opposite platform had been obliterated.
If they had been standing there, no amount of nanomachines could have put her back together again. Bodies were everywhere; lying on the track, at either end of the platform. The smell of charred flesh struck her more deeply than the burning of steel and wood.
At the heart of the former platform, a crater more than six metres across smouldered darkly. Those standing near it had been incinerated.
Even stood across from the platform, twenty metres away, her exposed skin had been lacerated with shrapnel and shards of plascrete. The smell of burnt hair and flesh was partly hers.
Some of the Normals who’d moved to stand with their backs to the far wall were getting up.
They must have had some sort of blast cushion activated around them, she thought. It explained the blast toughened skin at least. A movement caught her eye, as one of the Normals crouched on one knee and opened fire on the recovering security team with an antique ballistic pistol.
“Shit!” shouted one of Normals as the first two shots failed to bring down their intended target.
Helena moved quickly, flanking the Normals as they all moved to unholster hidden weapons. As she came in, bringing her foot down across the side of someone’s face, she saw that every weapon she could see was archaic.
As her target collapsed, she smiled grimly, an anger simmered within demanding she exact revenge. They had considered themselves safe from the death they were dealing out to the other platform. They had never planned on becoming entangled in someone else’s fight.
To her surprise, Rex made for the security team. As he reached the first of them, David got to his feet with a pistol in his hands, not quite knowing who to point it at.
She could see David’s mouth moving but could not hear him over the woolly ringing in her ears. It was clear enough, though: he wanted to know what had just happened, and why.
Shots continued to zip between the two parties, the Normals finally managing to take down one of the Oligarchs. Between Helena and the security team, the Normals were coming off worse, and a sense of immediate fear permeated the scorched air. Despite having prepared for the blast and their advantage in numbers over the oligarchs, it wasn’t enough.
The smoke was clearing. Helena could see some of the bodies across the way scrabbling about, twitching. She did not know what to feel for the survivors. Perhaps better to die.
The Hound spun outwards. A blade that she did not even realise he had, came down on the first of the security team, who crumpled downwards as it sliced cleanly between his neck and right shoulder. Two of the other Oligarchs were still on the floor, unmoving, which left just one to deal with.
Helena saw that they could leave, could escape the Euros with the Hound.
If we can make it past the Normals.
The Normals, more than five of whom were now dead, or dying, still outnumbered them three to one. Rex spun round, blocking a blow from the remaining security member before head-butting him. Helena could see the watery green poison coating his forehead spray into the man’s eyes. He screamed out in pain as the jelly of his sclera melted.
David moved, shooting out the legs from under two of the Normals trying to attack Helena. The Hound stood over the writhing Oligarch, then turned, leaping the three metres between him and the nearest Normal in a single stride, to face a man whose left hand had been replaced with a welding torch.
“Stop,” came a shout from the stairwell beyond the exit to the platform.
Rex’s blade came to a halt within an inch of the Normal’s nose. The air hummed as the monofilament blade cut the air just in front of his face. The Hound looked at his weapon and his face strained, but nothing happened. No movement, no more death.
Four men appeared from the entrance. They were quickly flanked by twice as many more. Three of them had operatic masquerade masks on their faces, their bodies were blurred, the air around them seemed to distort with a quiver as they walked.
The central figure was known to Helena; Denholme. His overlarge eyes reflected the carnage from one end of the station to the other.
“Lady Woolf,” said Denholme, frowning as he stepped through the entranceway and stopped a couple of metres from her. “What are you doing here? How could they have known?”
“Denholme, I place you under arrest,” said David, turning his pistol on the Normal.
Denholme smiled and nodded. David lowered his weapon before placing it on the floor. He then knelt and put his hands behind his head.
“Oh very good officer,” said Denholme, and chuckled to himself.
“I never expected we’d find the Hound here,” said Denholme. “The telepaths said you’d be here, but they didn’t mention the Hound.”
“The Hound stays with me,” said Helena, hoping she would be able to hear what he said in reply.
“I’m really sorry, Ma’am, but I have other duties now,” said Denholme. She thought he looked genuinely unhappy about it.
“Were you responsible for this?” she asked, struggling to understand what had happened to him.
“For what? The bomb?” He hesitated, as if not wanting to answer directly. Eventually he nodded, “I didn’t build it, but we’ve fought together and you know if I said no it would be because I was trying to present the truth of an ugly story to make it easier for you.”
“Why?” she asked.
Around him the telepaths held the Oligarchs in place as the remaining Normals finished them off. Three of those who had flanked the leaders had weapons trained on David, the Hound and Helena.
“I thought you’d understand?” Denholme said, looking shaken. “We both saw what Indexiv were doing inside their own territory. You even spoke about it when you got back.”
“You saw me?” Helena couldn’t believe it; someone had actually seen her press conference.
“Lots of people saw you, Lady Woolf. You helped turn something from kitchen sink anger into real action.”
“You ca
n’t blame her for what you’ve done,” said David.
“Blame her? Don’t be stupid. She told us the truth when the rest of your kind tried to deny it. She tried to stop them and it cost her. She hasn’t told you what they did to her in Southern Africa has she?”
David looked to Helena, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze.
“That was different,” she said.
“How? I saw you kill people for what you believed. For what was right. We are just doing the same.”
“I had no choice.”
“You think we do? Euros wants to kill us all just like Indexiv. They’re just prepared to be more patient about it. If they take decades to let us die out it’s still a war. We still have to fight.”
“You think this is going to help your cause? No one will be persuaded under the threat of a gun,” said David.
“Who said we want to persuade people. This isn’t about harmony. Indexiv don’t want harmony, they don’t want coexistence. Why would we try for something they don’t want to give?” Denholme wasn’t asking a question.
“I don’t understand.” Helena shook her head, ears still ringing. “I don’t believe you’re capable of such a change. I know this isn’t what you want.” Trying to get them away from ultimatums. “It’s not what I want either. I’m trying to fix it.”
“I am truly sorry you’re here,” said Denholme. “You are an inspiration to us, but they can’t let you leave here. I’m free because of them.”
“Don’t do this,” said Helena, her heart rupturing in desperation as she saw what had become of her pilot. “Let us go with the Hound. We can help change everything.”
“You know that’s not true.” Denholme looked as if he wanted to give her the chance. As they spoke his gaze darted over the damage around them, as if seeing it through a bad dream.
“Maybe not,” she conceded. “But this? You’d kill other Normals to get to us? Is this really what you call freedom?”
Denholme did not answer her.
“They’re sheep.” It was one of the three in masquerade masks. “They’re as much a part of the problem as you. You use people, exploit them.”
A Family War: The Oligarchy - Book 1 Page 32
