“No idea. There’s two types of sirens though.”
Marcus pulled Toby to a halt at the corner before the underground station. More casually, they sauntered into the street and joined the back of a crowd that congealed behind a vacant ambulance, two police cars and a quick response motorbike. The sirens stopped.
Two cops were on crowd control, stringing out tape and pushing people about as much as possible. Another cop was guarding the entrance to the underground station, rifle at the ready. The other two policemen and the ambulance crew must be inside the station.
“They’ve shot someone,” Marcus whispered bitterly.
Toby nodded. “Please not the kid. Please no.”
Marcus pursed his lips and tried to look over the crowd. “It must be. He could be dead.”
“What if he’s alive?” Toby said. “We can’t rescue him here.”
Marcus said, “He’ll reveal the location of the base.”
Toby’s feet itched as they waited. They were exposed and surrounded by citizens who could recognise them at any moment. All he needed was for some middle-class woman to freak out screaming next to him.
Shadows changed in the mouth of the underground. The crowd shifted and stretched to see who and what was coming to the surface. Four sets of footsteps echoed from the tunnel. There were the two extra cops and the ambulance crew, and they were carrying a trolley. The view was obscured.
“Is it Danny?” Toby asked impatiently.
Marcus strained to see, but his face was grave. “They’ve covered the face. It’s the right size.” Marcus looked away and bounced back onto his heels. “I see the hair. It’s his hair.”
Toby glance back over the crowd, but the trolley was already in the ambulance. “They covered the face?”
“The blanket was pulled up over the face. There was a lot of blood on the blanket, Toby. If that’s Danny then Danny is dead.” Marcus moved away from the crowd; Toby followed on behind.
“They shot him?” Toby said incredulously.
“‘Course they did. He’s on the watch list. Danny saw a cop and he ran. We taught him to run from cops. We always run.” Marcus’s face reddened.
“Marcus, we did what we could,” Toby said.
Marcus pushed Toby roughly, bumping him into a guy in a suit.
“I can’t.... I can’t right now.” Marcus wiped his face. “I’ve got to get back, to tell them.” Marcus waved at Toby’s ankle. “I can get there faster on my own.”
Marcus was right, the Ackersons needed to know straight away.
Did Marcus blame Toby for not checking the underground? Maybe he would have found the kid back at Middle Meadston and taken him back to base immediately. Or maybe he’d have got on the train to follow the kid and now be in the back of that ambulance with a matching bullet in his gut. The kid’s death was not his fault.
There was supposed to a guard on the door.
Toby did not run back to base. Marcus was carrying the message, so Toby’s expedience would make no difference. His ankle hurt so much. It felt so heavy too. Emma shouted at him last time he’d overworked it. Perhaps this time she would refuse to treat it all together.
It took him nearly an hour to get back to base. All he wanted to do was head to his bunk and slip into his post-shift daytime sleep. It was already well past his mid-morning bedtime. He had to be back on shift in six hours and he needed eight hours in bed. The house was quiet too, so no noisy kids waking him up. It was too quiet.
Barney was asleep in front of the television. Toby hobbled over and shook him roughly. Barney shouted as he woke up.
“Shh,” Toby said, before barking, “Bed! Are you on night watch tonight?”
Barney shook his head. “Day watch tomorrow, sir.”
Toby rolled his eyes. “Where is everyone?”
Barney looked around as if surprised by the lack of people. “Oh, um. The kids are in the attic room, to keep them quiet. Most people are upstairs unpacking. We thought we were moving again.”
Toby sank down on the sofa next to Barney. “I see. Well, there’s no need for a move now.”
“I suppose not,” Barney said, head hung low.
Toby pulled up his trouser leg to look at his black and green bruised ball of an ankle. He smiled at Barney. “Do you know where Emma is?”
Barney looked nauseously at the ankle. “The council are meeting downstairs with Alex.”
“Why with Alex?” Toby asked getting up unsteadily.
“She’s got a plan.” Barney waved his fingers as if conjuring a rabbit out of an invisible hat.
“Bloody hell, that’s the last thing we need.”
Toby entered the fluorescent lit kitchen and looked on at the collection sat around the table. The council, which was recently deprived of one member when Hywel died, seemed to have expanded again to include Ewan. It made sense, Martyn and Zoe were tooth and nail with each other and neither Emma nor Marcus were a leader or a peacemaker. They needed help. They did not need hot shots like Alex.
Alex was at the head of the table mid-speech when he hobbled in. She stumbled to a stop, watching him cautiously.
Martyn said, “Toby. Are you coming in?”
Toby leaned on the doorframe. “Should I? I’m not a member of the council.”
Martyn scowled at him. “Do you want to be?”
“No.”
“That’s what I thought.” Martyn pulled a chair out from the table. “But you’re going to sit down here today. I want your opinion on this.”
Emma got up to help him across the room, but he brushed her off. “I’m Ok.”
“You’re not.” Emma scowled.
Toby fell into the seat next to Martyn and thumped his palms down on the table, then looked up at Alex.
She was nervous, waiting for direction. “Should I keep going?”
Toby smacked the table again. “Yes, tell us, why are you here?”
Alex stepped back slightly. “I am trying to speak.”
Toby snorted, then muttered, “That’s ironic.”
“Enough,” Martyn warned.
Alex straightened her red wool jumper and stepped up to the table again. “Ok. We need real change in the city, to get normality back and the laws too, and I have a plan that could work.”
“Well, getting the city blown up would instigate a real change,” Toby said.
“Just listen,” Zoe snapped.
“Listen to my plan and then you can speak,” Alex said. “Toby, please.”
He sank back into his chair and stared at the rippled veneer patterns on the table.
Alex started again. “The key to Tamerian control over the city is the Ambassador.”
Toby’s eyes flicked up.
“Quiet,” Zoe snapped in anticipation.
“There is a way that we can get control over the Ambassador without harming him.” She raised a hand to the table, particularly Toby, Marcus and Emma. “Only for a short time. Long enough for him to hear our side of the argument without intervention from the police. This is the only play we have not tried.”
“Because it’s suicide,” Ewan said. Toby pointed at Ewan and nodded agreeably.
Emma put her hand up politely. “Anything the Ambassador says when he is in our custody cannot be trusted. He can renege on any agreement when we free him.”
“We all want peace. This is an opportunity for a peace treaty,” Alex said.
“Ridiculous,” Toby said.
“Hang on Toby. Let’s discuss this properly,” Emma said. “The Ackersons are only one of many groups in the city. He can’t be making individual deals with each group and there is no way he would get us all in one room at the same time.”
“We’re not that different from other groups. We all want peace. We all want the end to police violence and for the courts to reopen. We want justice. We want to be able to return to a normal life, a good job and a good home,” Alex said. “I’ve lost my Mam, my Dad and so many friends to this. It has to end.”
Ew
an stuck up his hand. “This plan has a very poor chance of succeeding. In the last month we’ve seen a lot of blood. The Erikssens are dead, the Monmouths are scattered. Our time is running out. Our anonymity has dissolved and we’re running out of food.”
Toby and Marcus sat in silence.
Emma said, “We have less than two weeks of food in stock. That’s accounting for the current rationing.”
“I feel sick at the idea of peace,” Toby said under his breath. “I just saw them kill a child, a pre-teen. How can we make peace with that?”
“We cannot accept a peace that comes without justice. We could never do that,” Martyn said.
“I propose we strike City Square on the day of the Ambassador’s visit.” Alex rolled out a map of City Square. “Jen Marley made this map. Whether we attack or not, all citizens have to attend at City Square. Any buildings that have heat signatures during the Ambassador’s visit will be destroyed. They’ll be hunting for hiding illegals. So, whatever we decide, we need to find a way to get all of us into the Square without being seen.
“There are two entrances to the Square that aren’t covered well by the scanners. Here and here.” Alex pointed at two small alleyways on the eastern edge. “Once inside we split into groups, with fighters keeping well away from the others.”
“But we need fighters with our vulnerable groups to protect them,” Toby said.
“No, we’d have no chance of protecting them if a fight started. If our fighters are connected in any way to the others then the police will show them no mercy. It’s better for the kids to be caught than killed,” Alex said. “The strike teams will be split into three groups. Group A will be below the scaffold where Nina is to be hung.”
“Sorry,” Marcus interrupted, “who is Nina?”
Alex bit her lip and her eyes zoned out. “A waitress who helped me when I was trapped in the cafe district. She’s a civilian.” She brushed back her hair and bent over the map with her pencil ready to point out locations. “Group A will be under the scaffold. Group B will be near the Ambassador’s cars. Group C will be split across the roofs and the crowd.”
“Who’s in which group?” Martyn asked.
Alex shook her head. “Details. We can figure that out in a minute. Let’s nail out the plan first.” She pointed at the cars. “There are things that need to be done immediately on site. Group B will strap a bomb to the primary car that the Ambassador uses.”
“A bomb!” Zoe snapped.
“We can’t kill him,” Toby said.
“Hush!” Alex said. “We are not killing him. The bomb will be a distraction. Listen. A member of Group B will get in the second car, which will be the car the Ambassador leaves in after the bomb goes off.”
“What about the real driver? He’ll be in the car already,” Zoe asked.
“Victim of war.” Alex shrugged.
“Very cavalier of you,” Emma said.
“Enough. Just listen.” Alex pointed to a roof top. “Members of Group C will be on the roofs with sniper rifles. When the bomb goes off the snipers will cut the rope before they hang Nina. Then Group A, under the scaffold, will trigger the trap door and remove Nina from the location.”
“Do you know how hard it is to hit a rope from four hundred yards?” Martyn asked.
Alex smirked. “You could do it.”
Martyn rolled his eyes.
Ewan ran his hands through his red hair and echoed Toby’s thoughts. “This is the best we’ve got?”
Alex sat down and dropped her pencil. “Yes.”
“Yes, I suppose it is,” Martyn said, surrendering to the idea.
“It’s a stupid plan,” Marcus said.
The plan hinged not only on the actions of the Ackersons but on the amiability of the Ambassador to listen to their peace treaty. The chances of success were desperately low.
“If we don’t try then it’s just time.... They will catch us, and exterminate us,” Alex said.
Toby hunched forward onto the table. “We’re being hunted. With increasing effectiveness. Each attack is getting closer to succeeding. We need to do something to defend ourselves,” Toby said.
“Can we really strike with this plan?” Ewan asked.
“No,” Toby said, but his eyes sparkled. “Not without a few alternations.”
41 - The Policeman
The beacon steadied and held constant on the computer. A blue ringlet firmly encircled a single house on the map. There was a thirty-centimetre margin of error.
Defoe grinned at the screen. “There you are.”
Constable Travis clicked on the house. A pop-up window appeared, showing the full address.
“Would you like the owner’s details?” Travis asked.
Defoe shook his head. “We don’t have time to confirm if that’s an illegal base or not. She’s alive. She’ll have seen our little television stunt and she’ll come to City Square.”
The Constable fidgeted nervously. Defoe’d said too much.
“Let me know when they make a move.”
“Yes, sir.” The Constable fumbled as he shut down the computer.
Defoe left him to it. He was late for lunch and had plans to discover a few secrets himself.
Inspector Gray had been difficult to contact since the last raid on the Ackerson base. Now the only Ackerson updates Defoe had were second hand from Remea.
Back in the Ackerson warehouse Gray had been hinting at something. Something about Alex Jenkins. It niggled away at Defoe. Whatever it was, Remea knew too. Gray knew, Remea knew and the Ambassador didn’t want anyone to know. Let it go.
Defoe pulled out his pass and swiped his way out of the Barracks compound. He traced his way into the streets near Gateway. There was a decent coffee shop two streets back from the compound entrance. Normally it was full of cops passing through during their shifts. Sometimes you’d see kids from the orphanages coming in for sweets or iced drinks, but they’d be in classes now.
Pushing the door open, Defoe struggled to get in for the queue of construction workers at the till. They must be working on the damaged buildings at the Erikssen bomb site. The smell of fried eggs and bacon was stronger than usual. The cafe had evolved, hopefully temporarily.
The noise was tremendous, with the hissing of a coffee machine, whirring of the extractor fan and sizzling of the hobs. People shouted over the kitchen and a tinny radio crackled underneath it all. The noise would keep any neighbouring diners from hearing Defoe and Gray’s conversation, although it was borderline too loud to think in here.
Defoe scanned the tables for a familiar face. The room wasn’t that large, maybe six two-seater tables and five four seaters. The guys in the queue must be taking away, as the room was full to the rafters.
Gray wasn’t there.
Defoe checked his watch. He was only fifteen minutes late. That wasn’t too bad. Couldn’t Gray wait that long?
What was he hiding?
Defoe’s phone blipped as he blew steam from his takeaway cup.
“Where the hell are you?” He shouted into the phone, stepping out into the street.
Gray huffed down the line. “Remea told me to stay away. He’s cottoned on to what you’re thinking and wants to put a stop to it.”
“What the hell is going on?”
“Sorry, but that’s it.”
Defoe snapped his flip phone shut and headed back to the barracks to track Gray down. That was it, the last straw. He was going to hunt down Alex Jenkins, just like he’d down before, and she’d tell him what was going on. She’d tell him, then she’d go through proper processes. Proper police processes, none of this secret Ambassador crap. She’s better off dead.
42 - The Hanging
Barney was keeping an eye on his bomb. He’d arrived early with Debbie. They had a good spot behind the loading bays where the armoured cars would pull in. Exactly where they wanted to be. The cars were on approach.
There was nothing for Debbie to do but absorb the mass of nervous sound swelling in
the Square. The massive space was segregated into sixteen cordoned off blocks, with four at the front and three parallel rows of blocks forming a regimented grid behind those. Debbie watched as the last block at the back began to fill. So many people.
The Ambassador’s team were very wise. The stage was buffered from the rabble with a closely controlled pro-government population filling the front four cordoned blocks. Any activist planning to bombard the stage would need leaden hearts and the means to kill thousands of innocent, docile civilians. Those lucky human shields were treated to leather trimmed seats and a police blockade between them and the blocks behind. Debbie smirked at the obvious unease of a silken-dressed Drayton resident sat towards the rear of their block, with her back exposed to the mixed populous only fifteen feet behind her.
Debbie scanned across the crowd. Police were everywhere. Somehow nearly one million people were squeezed into the space between the solid stone buildings that framed the Square. This was one of the few places where the expense of the quarried grey stones could be seen on all of the six storey buildings. Undoubtedly it was only a facia and the hind side of the buildings were built with breeze blocks or set concrete. The shops and flats occupying the buildings were tenanted by some of the Ambassador’s favourite citizens, all loyal and paid to remain that way. The buildings were well-guarded and impregnable. Scars traced their faces where activists had tried unsuccessfully to bring them down.
According to the plan, Group A, Toby and Zoe, would be hidden under the scaffolding. There they would wait for the signal to trigger the trap door. Their position was untenable. Hidden between two supporting pillars, any patrol of the scaffolding foundations could expose their position. Right now, their priority was to stay hidden. Hide from the cops, watch the crowd for the signal and be prepared to run like Hell.
Alex, Marcus and part of Group C should be stood in the centre of the goldfish bowl surrounded by the mindless crowd. They were nestled somewhere within the second row of blocks, behind the thickest line of cops. They were key to the success of the plan. If Toby and Zoe could not see their signal then Nina would stay put on the stage until her execution was complete.
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