by Robert Clark
I spotted only a couple of guards as I slipped between the huts on my way to the hall, but none were close enough or sharp enough to put me in jeopardy. Like the surrounding huts, the hall had been built from the surrounding land. Shaped like a triangular prism, large wooden beams supported a tapestry of interwoven branches and thatch. Unlike the smaller huts, this building was so hip, it had its own door and, after checking no one was watching me, I pushed it open and squeezed inside.
The room inside was cold and dark. The compact vegetation lining the roof gave the room a stuffy, claustrophobic feel like a tomb, but I bet that in the height of meal time, the vibe was far from macabre. Two long, narrow tables crafted from the trunk of a tall tree ran the length of the place, with a multitude of smaller benches tucked underneath. The floor under my boots was packed so tight that it was as solid and barren as a tiled floor.
I walked between the benches towards the far end where high wooden counters separated the kitchen and living area. I could picture the place, crammed tight with settlers, the smell of a freshly cooked meal ripe in the air. I bet it would be quite the atmosphere. But for now, it was as still as the dead.
I moved around the counter and looked around. It looked kosher enough. A large fire pit occupied most of the space, with a spit propped up over the coals. Beneath the counter were stacks of whittled bowls, just like those our meal had been served on. No utensils. No stoves or ovens or porcelain sinks. Only a couple of hobbled copper pots were the only signs of anything dating back to the last millennium. Everything else was prehistoric.
But it didn’t feel right. It felt excessively draconian. There was a reason people didn’t live so long back in the day when this was the norm. Yet I’d seen more than a couple of people wandering about Hope County that were reaching retirement age. People that, by their own laws and lifestyles, should have died long ago from pneumonia or salmonella brought on by harsh conditions and dirty dishes. These people weren’t stupid. They were fit and healthy and smart. You can’t blindside yourself to the benefits of human ingenuity just because you don’t like the overall outcome. There were better ways to combat The Behavioural Sink than by subjecting the people who agree with you to a slow and painful death. We are neanderthals no longer.
Was it just what they wanted me to see? A theatrical presentation to distract me from the real deal? I tried to look at the room differently, from the viewpoint of someone that knows its secrets. I checked under the tables, felt around under the counters lest something was hidden beneath. I even checked the thatched roof, but there was nothing.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Hope and her band of sylvan supporters weren’t involved in Second Solace politics. Maybe I’d risked Sophie’s life for nothing. If they weren’t involved, I’d have to admit it to Cage, and face the disappointment that would follow. If he lost his trust in me, he might change his mind about using me to sniff out his mole. And if that happened, gone were the days of clandestine, one-on-one meetings alone in his office. Gone was the chance to kill him unseen.
I looked down at the fire pit and swore. I’d screwed up, again. Another goddamn time. Just like I did in Afghanistan, or England, or Bruges, or France, or everywhere I went. I kicked a lump of coal that had fallen out of the pit. It bounced against another block, and hit the dirt with a clang.
A clang.
Since when did dirt clang?
With my borrowed boot, I cleared the coals aside and looked down. There, underneath a layer of soot, was something smooth. It looked like a sheet of metal. Maybe to keep the heat from the fire going. Or maybe it was something more.
I got down on my knees and cleared the debris with my hands. The object was definitely metallic. I found a corner buried in the ground and worked my fingers around it. I heaved, but it was still too deep down. I found another corner, and another, digging out the dirt as I moved. Then, with both hands, I hauled the object free. It weighed a tonne, but it came up soon enough.
It wasn’t a sheet.
I was a box.
Nineteen
Grapefruit
The return journey to the camp took longer, largely due to the fact that I now, more than ever, could not risk being caught. Each step I took had an added level of caution and calculation.
I stopped short of the camp and surveyed the camp from the trees. So long as Cece wasn’t on guard, I figured I could rely on the others not ratting me out for my nighttime wanderings. But the more I looked, not only could I not see anyone on guard, but I couldn’t see Cece. Was she out searching the woods for me, or had she not yet returned from her secret affairs?
I crossed the clearing back to camp and lay down under my blanket. Corser, Turner and Davies were all still out, slumped in the same positions as before. Cage had rolled onto his side, and Gail had shuffled around in her sleep so that her head was only about a foot away from my pillow. Her light hair fell messily down across her face in a way that sent an unexpected jolt through my chest. Her blanket had fallen down to her hips, so as gently as I could, I pulled it back up over her shoulders.
I didn’t go to sleep. Not with Cece still out there. I figured it would take her a minute or so to head back to camp, and then I’d see what she did next.
I was wrong.
The first fingers of dawn had crept up over distant mountains when finally she returned. At first, I thought she would stay up and keep guard, but I was surprised to see she lay down near Cage like nothing had happened. Whether she actually went to sleep, I didn’t know, so I decided not to chance it either.
Instead, I lay and watched the warm, welcoming glow of dawn stretch up over the horizon. I was bang on the money. It was one of the most breathtaking views I’d ever seen. No wonder Hope had picked this little spot of paradise as the location for her county.
Shortly after light found its way into the valley, I saw the citizens of Hope County stir. A group of men armed with bows and spears set out into the forest for their morning hunt while women prepared their children for the new day. It was close to another hour before the band of Second Solacers awoke. Corser was first, followed promptly by Turner as he kicked him in the shin for falling asleep on watch. Cage and Gail were close behind, as was Cece. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes with all the theatrics of a broadway actress and got to her feet. I looked down and caught Gail watching me.
‘Good sleep?’ she asked.
‘Not bad, all things considered,’ I said. ‘At least it didn’t snow on us.’
She giggled and got up with her blanket wrapped around her.
‘I’m starving,’ she said. ‘Is there any leftover food from last night?’
‘We can eat on the drive home,’ said Cage. ‘We shouldn’t overstay our welcome.’
Gail bowed her head, but said nothing in response. We got up and packed up our belongings in silence, letting the calm of dawn linger for as long as possible. When the canopy was dismantled, Hope appeared with some of her followers in tow.
‘I trust you are leaving?’ she said. There was no warmth to her tone.
‘Just packing up the last of our things,’ said Cage. ‘We won’t be long. Thank you for letting us rest here.’
‘It is the least I could do,’ she replied before looking at her daughter. ‘Gail, I was wondering if you could spare a moment?’
‘Sure,’ she said after a pause long enough to let everyone know her true feelings, and the pair walked side-by-side back towards the hut. I watched them go. Mother and daughter. Gail didn’t look comfortable.
They were gone for nearly ten minutes, during which time we finished off the rest of our preparations, by which I mean Corser, Turner and Davies packed their bags, Cece did a brief morning workout, and Cage stared wistfully into the sunrise. I hung back and listened to the Wolf.
‘We’re running out of time,’ he hissed in my ear.
‘I know.’
‘What are we going to do?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘We need a plan for when we get bac
k,’ he said. ‘Think about our objectives.’
‘I am, and I’m still drawing a blank.’
‘We need to get back to the bunker,’ he insisted. ‘If we can find out what it is they’re doing down there, that might buy us some time.’
‘If we have time left to buy.’
‘Stop being so negative and think about this practically,’ he barked. ‘That guy on the phone got our message, which means Whyte and Miles did too. We can’t go thinking about this any other way. So when we get back, we head straight to the bunker while Cece is distracted with the return. Agent Noble has to be down there. So does Al-Assad, and anything he’s working on.’
Gail reappeared from the hut alone.
‘We’ll talk about this later,’ I said to the Wolf, and headed back to rejoin the group.
‘Hope told me to say she won’t be joining us for our departure,’ said Gail as she approached. ‘She wanted to thank everyone for coming, and hopes we have a safe journey home.’
Cece snorted.
‘Then we go,’ said Cage. ‘We’re burning daylight waiting around.’
He nodded to Corser, and set off back down the hill. Hope’s followers watched us as we walked by. No one spoke, and as we headed back into the trees, I could sense their presence lacking. We weren’t their problem anymore.
We were back at the car within the hour. Corser opened up the Humvee and hauled his bag and weapon up in the back. Davies and Turner did the same.
‘Corser,’ said Cage. ‘You and Stone are with me. The rest of you take the second Humvee.’
‘I will not leave you with that sn-’ started Cece, but Cage cut her off.
‘Stone ain’t going to cut my throat, don’t worry. And even if he tries anything, Corser will snap him in half, won’t you Corser?’
Corser nodded.
‘See?’ said Cage. ‘Nothing to worry about.’
Cece huffed, but didn’t object. Instead, she climbed into the passenger seat of the second Humvee and slammed the door behind her. Gail looked at Cage.
‘You too, sweetie,’ he said to his daughter.
Gail gave her father a sheepish look, like a child told to go sit with a group of people they don’t know. I looked at the pair. Their relationship felt like it was locked in the past. Gail calling him daddy, it was weird, like she was a child trapped in a world of adults. Maybe that was the curse of growing up in Second Solace. It robbed her of a normal childhood.
Gail nodded and climbed into the second Humvee with Davies and Turner, leaving Corser with me and Cage. Cage got into the driver seat, with Corser alongside him. I got in the back and stretched out across the leather.
‘I got your code,’ said Cage as he fired up the engine. ‘Your safe word. I think it’s about time the three of us talked.’
Corser looked at Cage, then at me. His face scrunched up like a toddler.
‘What safe word?’ he asked.
‘Corser tells me you let him in on what we’re doing here. I take it this means you trust Corser isn’t responsible?’ asked Cage.
‘He saved my life twice, and if you trust him, then I do too.’
‘What safe word?’ Corser asked again.
‘Grapefruit,’ I said.
Corser stared blankly at me.
‘Stone told me his safe word was grapefruit after Westaway tried to kill him,’ said Cage. ‘That was smart. He doesn’t want anyone else knowing what was said. Am I right, Stone?’
I nodded.
‘Why were you talking about safe words in the first place?’ Corser asked.
‘I was being sarcastic,’ I said. ‘Someone just tried to kill me, and I’ve come to learn that’s my natural reaction to it. Like a way of deflecting the fear of having people try to murder me. Call me crazy, but it’s kept me out the looney bin so far. I mentioned it again after my lovely conversation with Hope.’
‘What did you think of my charming ex-wife?’ Cage asked.
‘She could do with brushing her teeth once in a while, unless that’s all part of the act.’
‘You think she’s faking?’ asked Cage.
‘I know she is,’ I said. ‘I went for a little stroll last night while everyone was asleep. The meal they made for us was nice and all, but it was bullshit. It got me thinking. Using bows and arrows to kill your prey is one thing, but having fresh vegetables in the middle of winter takes a bit more twenty-first century knowhow. How do you guys do it?’
‘We have greenhouses and professional gardeners,’ said Corser.
‘Exactly. Hope doesn’t. Or at least, she’s trying to pretend she doesn’t. She wants to have her cake and eat it too. Did you see all the patches of flattened grass when we were walking up to our little camp? They’ve been busy. I think we surprised them, coming up here unannounced. They didn’t have much time to put on a show. I wanted to go and check out their kitchen situation.’
‘And?’ said Cage.
‘And at first glance, they look as kosher as they come.’ I said. ‘But they’re not, because you don’t survive this kind of lifestyle for long. Not without a couple of twenty-first century toys. I found a box hidden underneath their fire pit. They’d covered it over with coal. No one should have found it. But I did.’
‘What was inside?’ asked Cage.
‘Mobile phones,’ I said. ‘Eight of them. All charged and ready to go.’
‘You’re kidding me,’ said Cage.
‘Quite a marvel for a bunch of neanderthals to have stumbled across cellular technology,’ I replied. ‘It explains how they managed to send someone out to intercept Corser, at least.’
‘If it was them,’ said Cage.
Still not convinced.
‘The guy that attacked you, what can you tell me about him?’ I asked Corser.
‘He was young, maybe ten years my junior,’ said Corser. ‘Not a competent killer, and an even worse fighter. He used a Heckler and Koch PSG1 with a sound suppressor attached to the front, which tells you everything you need to know about him.’
‘Does it?’ I asked.
‘I favour the Barrett M90,’ he said. ‘American made, fifty caliber rifle. It’s an efficient rifle. I can get the job done with it, which is why I sprung for the newer model over the M82. I wanted the best, because if I need to shoot my target, you can damn well expect me to hit it.’
Says the guy who missed two of the three shots, I thought
‘This guy, he used the PSG1. It’s German, which means either they paid through the nose to get it above board, or they paid through the nose to get it under the table. So this guy has money. So much so he thinks he’ll spring for the suppressor, which is another twelve-hundred bucks right there. Except this guy doesn’t know shit. Do you know how well a suppressor works on a sniper rifle?’
I shook my head.
‘It ain’t worth shit,’ said Corser. ‘Imagine you have an AR-15. It’s a popular lightweight semi-automatic rifle that’s been around since the sixties. They’re a dime a dozen over here, because it’s an efficient weapon. But no one would say it’s quiet. If you worked it out in decibels, it’s probably around the one-sixty mark. Like being in a nightclub. You add a sound suppressor on the end of it, you’d expect it to make that sound as loud as a bird’s fart, right? Well it ain’t that simple. A sound suppressor does exactly what the name suggests. It doesn’t silence, it suppresses. So that AR-15 might drop by thirty decibels. Hearing damage starts around eighty decibels, give or take. So you’re still firing something doing almost twice that. And that’s only the AR-15. Apply that to a PSG1, and you must be smoking some powerful shit to think it’s going to make a difference to the noise. A rifle is a powerful weapon. It sounds like the God of Thunder coming down to kick your ass. Nothing can silence that shit. But adding a suppressor to a weapon affects the balance of the weapon. It makes it heavier, harder to aim. It makes it sloppy. You need to put in hundreds of hours on a rifle range to counter that, and this guy couldn’t hit me at a range of thirty meters with my ass on
the ground.’
‘So he had more money than sense?’ I asked.
‘Exactly. He dressed the part and snuck up on me well enough, but when the chips started falling, he wasn’t worth shit. What kind of person has money to spare, but not hours to hone a skill?’
‘The kind that pretends like they’re living their life like a damn primate,’ snarled Cage.
‘But that’s only half the problem,’ I said, looking out the window at the blur of trees flying by the window. ‘If Hope and her people are in on it, that means whoever you have on the inside is even more of a problem than they were. They’ve got an army, and they aren’t afraid to use them.’
‘Shit,’ said Cage.
‘I need to get closer to the Dawson brothers, Fenwick and Cece,’ I said. ‘At least one of them is involved.’
‘I think you can scratch Fenwick off that list,’ said Cage. ‘I’ve been thinking about what happened the day we found out about your transport. I spent the rest of the afternoon with Fenwick discussing other matters. He wouldn’t have had time to send someone to intercept Corser.’
‘You sure about that?’ I asked. ‘How wide spread are Hope’s people? If she had someone even half the way there already, he could have waited hours before making the call.’
Cage shook his head.
‘Not possible. Fenwick is an old soul. He joined me because he didn’t like the way the world was changing. He’s too old for new technologies like cell phones and emails. I don’t think I’ve seen him near a computer his whole life.’
‘Then for now, Fenwick is at the bottom of the list,’ I said. ‘But that still leaves Cece and the Dawson brothers.’
‘We should tell him what we saw last night,’ whispered the Wolf in my ear.
He was right.
‘How much do you trust Cece?’ I asked.
Cage shifted in his seat. Kept his eyes fixed on the sprawling road ahead.
