Genesis Pact (Genesis Book 4)

by Eliza Green

  Marcus stood a few feet away, his lips twisted into a cruel smile.

  ‘Jenny Waterson. Why aren’t you on the stall?’

  She didn’t care that Marcus knew her real name. On record, she was just a disgraced pilot with links to Bill Taggart and Laura O’Halloran. But those records had died when the World Government had abandoned Earth, and the criminals were too paranoid to use the technology to recover them.

  ‘I needed stock.’ She held out the tomatoes.

  Marcus was of average height, stocky with dark hair and a nasty scar that circled his neck from ear to ear. He reminded her of a man she’d met long ago; a thin, gaunt docking-station attendant working out of Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta. He, too, had asserted his authority over her.

  Jenny strode past him to the market’s rear door. Marcus followed. She stopped at her stall and placed the small, round tomatoes on her already-full stand. Grey, she noticed, stood stiffer than usual. He wore a neutral expression on his face, but she caught the slight widening of his eyes that showed his fear. He glanced at her coat, then at her. The DPad. She shook her head almost imperceptibly and he relaxed a fraction.

  ‘You think of yourself as some kind of leader in this place, don’t you?’ Marcus’ voice was cool, accusatory.

  A few customers browsing stalls close to Marcus moved away.

  She’d dealt with far worse than him over the years. But to keep up her undercover pretence, she donned her best scared look and turned around.

  ‘Just doing my job like everyone else here.’ She held her hands up. ‘Please, Marcus. I promise, you’ll get no trouble from me.’

  Marcus’ eyes burned bright at the sound of her begging. He called out to his associate who did the rounds at the other stalls. ‘Carl. Get your ass over here.’

  A burly man with red hair and pale skin rushed over. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It seems Jenny here was away from her stall for a good ten minutes.’

  Jenny glanced at Greyson. He shook his head. One of the nearby vendors—a woman—dropped her gaze.

  ‘Says she was in the storage room.’ Marcus’ eyes slid from Carl to Jenny. ‘What were you doing in the storage room?’

  ‘I...’ She cleared her throat. ‘I was getting stock.’

  ‘For ten minutes?’

  ‘I’m...’ She didn’t want them searching the storage room. ‘I’m sorry, Marcus. The air. It’s so refreshing in there and it’s so heavy in here.’

  ‘That air don’t come free. And for that, Carl here’s gonna audit your stall.’ Jenny bit her lip and turned to Greyson. She lifted her eyes a little. She could handle whatever pathetic punishment made Marcus feel more like a man, but she knew that Greyson hated seeing how Marcus treated women.

  Carl pulled out his calculator and totted up the fruit and vegetables on display: tomatoes, aubergines, apples, carrots.

  ‘Give me the books, old man,’ he snapped at Greyson.

  Grey held out the stock book and Carl snatched it from him. He punched a few numbers into the calculator.

  ‘Carl here wanted to be an accountant,’ said Marcus, with a slimy smile. ‘Didn’t you, Carl?’

  ‘Yeah. I love numbers. Fucking genetics ruined ever’thing.’

  He hit a few more keys and jotted down numbers in another column on the book.

  ‘And now we rule the lot,’ said Marcus.

  Carl gave a short laugh, then moved to count the apples. Jenny braced herself.

  Carl stopped, his thick brow furrowed. ‘There are two apples missing.’

  ‘Everything is in order, I assure you.’ Jenny injected a little wobble into her voice.

  ‘Then why aren’t the numbers adding up? You callin’ me a liar?’ Carl bared his yellow teeth at her.

  ‘We had a couple of troublemakers in here yesterday. Two boys. They must have taken them.’ Her fingers fluttered at her throat, for show.

  Marcus pulled two boxes of apples off the display, sending the fruit rolling across the floor. He shoved Greyson aside and pulled out everything from behind the stalls, which wasn’t much.

  ‘Where are the apples?’

  ‘I swear to you, Marcus. I’m telling the truth.’

  ‘How many tomatoes did you add to this pile today?’ said Carl.

  ‘Ten.’

  He jotted the number down and recounted the tomatoes. ‘Yeah, they add up. It’s just the missing two apples, Marcus.’

  When Marcus got into a mood, he liked to take it out on all the vendors. Jenny tried to keep his focus on her.

  ‘You can take it out of my pay, Marcus. Please.’

  Marcus slid his gaze down her body, then up to her face. ‘Outside. Now.’ He pushed her towards the door.

  Jenny glanced back at Greyson, shaking her head. They had to keep pretending; they couldn’t draw attention to themselves. She knew what was coming and Marcus would only back off if she faced it alone. Carl stayed inside with the other vendors and another associate.

  A fourth man waited outside. He pinned Jenny up against the brick wall while Marcus pulled a brass knuckleduster from his pocket and fitted it over his hand. He rolled up his sleeves and readjusted the weapon, intent on dragging out the moment.

  Jenny just wished he would get it over with. But Marcus liked to show off to the other associates.

  A flicker of pleasure flashed in Marcus’ eyes as he raised his fist. Jenny refused to look away. She would not give bullies the upper hand. Marcus drew his arm back and propelled it towards her face.

  He stopped short, changed direction and punched her in the stomach, hard.

  Jenny coughed and wheezed as she doubled over. His associate straightened her up, then Marcus came at her again. This time, his punch landed square in her chest, near her left breast. She slipped to the ground. That one hurt more than the hit to her stomach.

  ‘One for each apple you ate, because I don’t buy your story.’

  Jenny squeezed her eyes closed, then opened them and focused on his shoes. Dirty and worn.

  ‘I don’t like hitting women in the face. It sends the wrong message. But I won’t hesitate if you try to cross me again. What do you say?’

  Jenny said nothing. He kicked her in the thigh.

  ‘It won’t happen again.’ Her voice sounded weak, hoarse.

  ‘Now clean yourself up and get back to the stall.’

  Marcus walked away. His associate flashed her a wicked smile and followed. Four doors opened and closed in the distance, and the vehicle sped off.

  Greyson appeared at her side. ‘Fucking asshole.’ He helped Jenny to her feet. ‘I know you’re strong and you can handle him, but don’t you dare put yourself in that position again. Next time I won’t sit back and watch. I don’t care why we’re here.’ Greyson studied her face.

  ‘Would you have preferred them to search the storage room and find the DPad?’

  ‘I would have preferred them not to attack my wife.’

  He escorted her to the storage room where she retrieved the DPad and hid it back in the lining of her coat.

  ‘We have to be careful, Jenny. He’s on edge about something. I can feel it. Who knows how far he’ll go next time?’

  She leaned into him for support. ‘I can handle shits like Marcus.’

  ‘It’s not us I’m worried about. It’s all those people in there.’ He pointed at the market. ‘If he turns on them, they won’t know how to fight.’

  Jenny sighed. Greyson was right. The vendors were as vulnerable as the people from the neighbourhoods.

  They returned to the stall and she stored her coat away. The apples that Marcus had spilled on the floor were stacked neatly in the display boxes again. She shuffled to the front of the market, as far as the environmental controls would allow, and searched for Albert.

  Where the hell was he? She needed to meet with Isobel now.

  Then, maybe they could turn their luck around.

  19

  Albert sat at the kitchen table and wrapped his hands around a cooling
mug of watery tea. He took a large gulp to steady his shakes. Why had Marcus targeted him? The thought had kept him awake all night. Marcus’ behaviour was becoming more erratic by the day. But the money had been stolen from Sal’s safe days ago, so what prompted Marcus to mark the back of his property now?

  Albert had seen the red ‘X’ before on buildings outside of Waverley. A mark indicated the faction’s interest in a vacated property. But his tavern was certainly not vacant. He had considered Marcus’ interest to be connected to his extra house guests. But others in East Compound had also opened their doors to refugees. A quick walk around town an hour ago confirmed that they hadn’t been targeted in the same way. He came around full circle to the stolen money.

  But another possibility existed, one that had to do with a certain Indigene working in his tavern. His grip tightened on the mug as he thought about Sal’s safety. If Isobel was the target, Sal’s cottage could carry the same red marking.

  The door creaked open and Ben’s face appeared in the crack. He closed the door behind him and slipped into the chair opposite Albert.

  ‘What happened last night, Albert? What was all the commotion about?’ After the car had left, Ben had come downstairs, but returned to bed without answers when Albert had refused to tell him anything.

  ‘Like I told you last night, it’s nothing you need to worry about, lad. I have everything under control.’

  ‘Was it Marcus?’

  Albert’s fear spiked. He grabbed hold of Ben’s arm. ‘I want you to stay away from Marcus and any member of that King gang. Do you hear me? If you see them crossing the street to talk to you, pretend you didn’t see them and walk the other way.’

  Albert let go of his arm and sat back. ‘Is it because of Isobel?’ said Ben. ‘I wanted to tell you before now. It’s not the first time they’ve been here. They’ve scanned the tavern before, just after Isobel came to work here and before the Italians came to stay. I know we paid for her and they gave her up because they think she’s worthless. But what if they’re having second thoughts about letting her go?’

  ‘She’ll never be free, Ben. Not in this world.’ Albert stood up and carried his empty mug to the sink. The ceramic made a dull thud against the steel. ‘But she could be the key to changing things. I don’t know how, but—’

  ‘What do you mean? What’s going to happen to her?’

  He had said too much. Ben eyed him as he turned and rested his hands against the sink. ‘Nothing will happen to her. Not on my watch. A woman called Jenny Waterson who works at the black market has asked to meet with her. Isobel mentioned she was looking for Jenny, so I plan to bring Isobel to meet with her today. I don’t know why Jenny wants to meet her.’

  Ben stood up. ‘You can’t send Isobel into a situation without knowing who this Jenny woman is—we don’t know why she was told to find her. Jenny could be working for Marcus. It’s not Isobel’s fault she was changed or that people don’t accept her.’

  Albert squeezed Ben’s shoulder. He could feel him shaking. He hid his own fear from the boy.

  ‘Any fool can see you and Isobel share a connection. Do you agree that we need to change things?’ Ben nodded. ‘We can’t survive much longer without life support, and Jenny may be able to help us with that problem. I’ll be going with her and I give you my promise no harm will come to her. Do you trust me, lad?’

  ‘Of course I do. But let me come with you.’

  ‘I really need you here, to keep an eye on Kevin. I don’t want him getting into any trouble while I’m gone. Can you do that?’

  ‘As long as you report back everything from today’s meeting.’

  Albert nodded. ‘It might not be much.’

  Ben levelled a glare at him. ‘Everything, Albert.’

  ☼

  An hour later, there was a knock at the front door. Albert opened it to find Sal waiting with Isobel. He stood back and they both entered.

  ‘Were you followed?’ Albert glanced up and down the street but saw nothing. He closed the door.

  Sal took off her coat. ‘No more than usual. What’s got you in a tizzy this morning, old man?’

  On his walkabout that morning, he’d dropped a note in Sal’s letterbox, asking that she accompany Isobel to the tavern.

  The Italians mostly slept. Those who were awake were sitting up, folding blankets.

  ‘We had a visitor last night. Tell me, did you see any strange markings on your cottage this morning?’

  Sal narrowed her eyes. ‘What kind of visitor? Someone from Waverley? An alien? Be more specific.’ Albert said nothing, prompting Sal to nod. ‘Just what I thought. What did that scum want?’

  Some bodies on the floor stirred. Isobel still hadn’t taken off her coat.

  ‘I didn’t actually see him, but I know it was him. There’s a big red mark on the back of the tavern.’

  Sal sat down in a spare chair while Ben and Isobel hovered in the background. The Italians muttered among themselves.

  ‘Are you sure you want to talk about this here?’ Sal nodded towards the Italian group. A few watched them with quiet interest.

  Albert waved his hand. ‘Don’t worry about them. Only a couple of them can speak English but Sofia assures me they’ve been discreet.’

  ‘Okay then, why the mark? You think it’s because of Isobel, don’t you?’

  Albert glanced at Isobel who stared at him. ‘I did at first, but now I’m not so sure. That would have made sense had your cottage been marked. Now I think we’re back to the stolen money. But we can’t worry about that amid more pressing matters. I need to bring Isobel and Jenny Waterson together.’

  Isobel’s hard stare softened. ‘What can you tell me about her? When will I meet her?’

  ‘Later today, and I can’t tell you much. She keeps to herself. She said to come between 11am and 12pm, after the criminals have finished their morning rounds.’

  ‘She won’t get out of Waverley on her own.’ said Sal. ‘And Marcus will be suspicious if you take her yourself.’

  Sal was right; Albert always went to the market alone.

  ‘I can take her,’ said Sal. ‘It will look more natural.’

  Isobel agreed with a nod and Albert leaned forward, resting his arms on his lap. ‘In that case, I think we should rehearse how this will happen.’

  ☼

  Albert approached Waverley’s gates alone with his empty grey satchel on his back and one hiking stick.

  ‘Off to get some things at the market, old man?’ said one guard at the gate. It was the same man who had stolen his apples.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, we’d prefer red apples next time. Them green ones are bitter and nasty, just like your smell.’

  The guards laughed while Albert walked on with his head low.

  He had agreed with Sal and Isobel to meet them at the market. But the closer he got to the red-bricked building the more his nerves jangled. He marched straight past the market entrance then double-backed after a deep breath and a lecture to himself. Inside the entrance, he browsed the stalls closest to the front hoping Jenny would spot his loitering.

  He faked tiredness and leaned on his stick for support. Then he left the stalls to cross the road where he sat on the kerb and waited for Sal.

  Sal arrived first, wearing her distinct purple World Government uniform. Isobel wore jeans and a shirt covered by a long trench coat. She had covered her head with a plain grey scarf, but her towering height identified her origin.

  Sal dragged her along like the bought slave she was supposed to be. She barked some commands to Isobel who kept her head bowed in submission.

  Albert moved to get up, but new motion caught his eye in the shape of a black military vehicle. It turned onto the approach road and would soon have a clear view of the entrance to the black market. If the criminals travelling in the vehicle spotted Isobel with someone other than him, they might order her back to Waverley. Or worse, have some fun with her.

  Plan B. He stood up and strode acr
oss the road, his fist raised in anger.

  ‘Sal.’

  She turned around. Isobel stopped, her eyes still focused on the ground. ‘What is it, old man?’

  ‘What the hell are you doing with my Indigene?’

  ‘I need her to carry some machine parts for my generator. What’s it to you?’

  ‘Did you steal her from my tavern? She’s my worker, bought and paid for. Get your thieving hands off her.’ Albert sensed the vehicle close by and heard one of its windows roll down.

  He caught sight of Jenny and Greyson, who watched the fight from inside the warehouse.

  Albert stepped forward and grabbed Isobel’s arm. The other customers pretended not to notice. The vehicle’s engine idled behind him.

  Sal swatted his hand away from Isobel. ‘I’ll bring your precious girl back in an hour. But right now, she’s helping me.’

  ‘No, she isn’t.’ Albert clicked his fingers at Isobel. ‘You. Come here, now.’

  Isobel’s fearful gaze shifted. She stepped forward, but Sal stopped her. ‘I told you, she’s not going anywhere.’

  Albert shoved Sal. She tripped and stumbled to the ground. He stepped over her crumpled body, grabbed Isobel’s wrist and led her away down the side of the market, towards the storage unit at the back.

  The military vehicle’s door opened and one of the Kings’ associates stepped out.

  ‘You need help roughin’ her up?’

  Albert turned to see a man smacking a fist into his other hand. He sucked in a quick breath. ‘No, thanks,’ he grumbled. ‘I know how to keep my Indigene in line.’

  ‘You know she could kill you if she wants.’ The man was smiling now.

  ‘I’ll be fine. She knows what waits for her if she disobeys me.’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘A life with you.’

  The associate laughed hard, turned around and climbed back in the vehicle.

  Albert pulled Isobel along, out of sight around the side of the building. He pushed her into the wall.