Debbie thought she saw one of the black and red bobble hats that they’d all wear, as a sign that Nina had the rope secured around her neck. Nina’s only hope was that Toby and Zoe could keep an eye on one of those stupid hats, which the whole plan relied on. The rest of Group C were scattered across the roofs, secreted from police snipers. Martyn was too good a shot not to be on the roof, despite his desire to be with Alex.
The Ackersons were barely recognisable. In addition to the itchy woollen bobble hats, they wore a mix of poorly fitting corduroy overcoats, double denim, fur and suede jackets, suit jackets and thick waterproof mackintoshes. The brisk weather gave them some leeway with their disguises. The hardest items to procure had been the half dozen contact lenses needed to fool the scanners. There was no way Alex and Marcus could get that close to the stage without them.
“Debs.”
Debbie turned back to the cars at Barney’s call. The parking location was perfect, positioning the bomb just behind the front axle. That meant the cops could put out the fire before the battery or the back-up petrol tank blew up, but the car was not driveable afterwards.
“Come on.” Barney pulled her away.
“Where are we going?”
Barney tapped his temple. “Hey thicko. Tick tick tick tick. We need to get some distance.”
Debbie took one last look over to the cars. The Ambassador was exiting the lead vehicle.
*****
All attention was on the police-lined stage. On the left, near where the cars were pulling into the spaces, a red carpet stretched across to a central podium. The titanium podium was surrounded by a clear indestructible bubble. The scaffold stood to its right. Nina’s head was covered by a sack made of jute, or something similar. Her body shook like a leaf.
The noise of the crowd changed. The nervous hubbub evolved into a chaos of cheers and jeers, whistles and boos, the tension of police pressing back the line of people. Then a rumble of drums and the joyous harmony of pipes and strings thrummed from all corners of the Square as the Ambassador’s fanfare began. Alex jostled an old man who stepped backwards into her, fighting to stay in a place where Zoe and Toby would be able to see her.
Chills rippled down her spine. Leading the way across the stage were the senior police officers; Commander Swanson, Deputy Commander Remea, various other officers and Defoe. Each of them played a part in breaking pieces off her life.
Defoe and his seniors lined the glass bubble on centre stage. All turned magnetically towards their approaching Ambassador. Flares of twinkling fire spurted from the edge of the stage. The sudden glare seemed to burn the back of Alex’s eyes and she blinked it away. Perhaps that was half the reason for the display - blinding any potential assassins. The last of the sparks glinted on a golden mask, its expression a molten fury. Acrid white smoke caught behind his heels, swirled off the edge of the stage and the smell floated across the crowd.
More policemen flanked the edge of the scaffolding. One of them held the remote trigger that would drop the floor away from Nina’s feet. Until then, Nina stood alone and exposed above the crowd.
The music faded, the crowd hushed waiting for their ruler. The man was a fortress, protected by his carbon tailored suit, his chainmail gloves and even his glittering mask. Strength emanated from his stance as he squared up to the podium. Nothing could stop this man.
“Every year.” His voice chilled Alex as it rippled around her. The power of it flattened the last of the crowd’s murmurs. “Every year we stand here, in this square. You work hard, never tiring, to ensure our city earns its place in the world. All your efforts to answer this question: have we met our quota?” The Ambassador swept across the crowd. “Industry. Construction. Service Centres. Security Services. Public Services.
“Our exports are strong. Our ever-increasing agricultural resources outside of the walls have profited from a long summer and low pestilence levels. It has been a fair year for production.” The crowd remained tense. “So why is the Empire displeased with us?”
He swung around and pointed at Nina. Nausea dosed over Alex.
“Them. Increasing illegal activities are killing our citizens, demolishing our buildings, damaging our trade and costing us huge amounts of money that we could be investing in this city. We desperately need to renovate housing, we want to install new technologies to support our lives and livelihoods, we want to live without fear and without division.”
Ripples of assent rumbled across the crowd.
“The end is coming. The end of conflict, the end of rebellion, the end of death. There is no place left for these activists to hide and we have no sympathies for their archaic causes. Life is reserved for those who live in the present. Our only choice is to work together to build a better, united world. Please, now is the time to lay down your weapons and pick up your tools.”
The warming of the crowd flowed around Alex leaving her untouched. Words like these had been spoken before with little impact. Her attention stayed on the Ambassador’s next victim.
“One more death. Let me make this clear.” The Ambassador’s voice rose, anger in his words. “I do not want another death in our city. This month we saw dozens of activists die during targeted police strikes. The groups in question were murderous, were vicious and killed hundreds of police officers and civilians. Even so, their deaths were tragic. I do not want a single citizen in this city to die as a result of violence. So much blood down the drains. So many loved ones gone forever. It must stop now.”
His hands raised to hush the clapping and whistling crowd, all crowing like ravens around a fallen stag.
“Today, the last of our citizens will fall. A symbol of rebellion in this city. A woman who assisted in the escape of numerous illegals who then went on to destroy our lives. This woman is connected with senior members of one of the largest groups in the city. She is a menace to society. The perfect sacrifice to end the bloodshed of our times. This woman - Alex Jenkins.”
They wanted her blood. It almost felt like they were scraping inside her veins, the sound on their applause and whistles filled her, suffocating her, terrifying her... infuriating her. Fire built up from deep inside. How could they? How dare they?
“I speak to you with candour,” the Ambassador continued. “I want an end to fighting. I want peace.” He flung his arm towards Nina. Alex tightened her hand reflexively around her own neck. “Captain, this is the end!”
The crowd cawed.
The flash of light came half a second before the wall of heat and the pain of sound. Alex staggered, steadied herself as the car exploded, locking her eyes on the stage. The rope snapped. Three bangs shook the square from different rooftops. Alex, on instinct alone, ripped the hat from her head. Nina disappeared through the trapdoor.
In only a couple of seconds the world’s elation turned into a crushing, overpowering wall of fear. Screaming all around her. Alex let the people move her backwards. It was time to blend in now. Then she staggered. He was still on stage. Why wasn’t he leaving?
“Stop!” He bellowed. Then nothing. He was waiting. Impatiently.
Confused. Everyone turned, stilled, watched. Steam wafted across the stage as water doused the flaming car.
Something had gone wrong.
There was movement behind the stage. Someone was there. Lots of people. Zoe and Toby were there.
Handcuffed, bloody and barely upright, Zoe and Toby were now on the stage. An escort of maybe twenty cops had them fiercely controlled. Nina, hoodless, stood next to them. Her face was dirty with sweat, dust and mascara. The noose knot rested on her chest and two foot of rope jigged to the beat of her tremor.
“Enough!” The Ambassador shouted. “Has our future been set? Are we destined to circle round and round in this pattern of self-destruction? No. I won’t have it.
“I have lived to bring an end to this fighting. My time as Ambassador is nearly up. Only three more months and I will depart for Tameri. We have three months to cement peace. Three months to solidify th
is relationship between the people and the Empire. Or you’re next Ambassador will stamp down this fire into ashes.”
He waved to the guard holding Nina. Defoe snatched Nina from the guard and dragged her sideways across to the central podium.
“Believe me, there will be an end.” The Ambassador said. “Blood shed is not inevitable.”
He drew a pistol from inside his carbon jacket. He was going to shoot her. He was going to kill her in front of the whole city.
“Stop! We’ll give you peace!”
The Ambassador stilled. His face was masked, but his body turned inelegantly towards the crowd. He looked for the familiar voice.
Alex was surrounded by a block of frozen silent fear. The shout had come from her.
Nina pulled from Defoe’s grip in his momentary lapse, but he knocked her to the floor and he too stared into the crowd.
Anger bubbled up inside Alex again and she threw her voice over the crowd. “Have your peace. Give us freedom.”
Fear crackled across the crowd again. Shouts for freedom peppered disparately across the crowd. Police hunted the crowd barriers for the culprits. Defoe rose his hands for silence.
The burly cop was looking in completely the wrong direction.
“Silence!” He shouted. The crowd calmed. “How many more chances at peace do you want?”
Cautiously watching for police, Alex shouted, “No more death penalty. Treat us like humans.”
Defoe bristled and kicked Nina roughly in the side. “Humans? You’re murdering psychopaths. You’re scum.”
“Enough.” The Ambassador bristled. His voice, connected to the square’s tannoy, overpowered his subordinate. “The old laws did not work. Why would they work now?”
A sense of de ja vu passed over her. It was like the world had slipped away and they were both back in the Ambassador’s house. They were just debating politics in his sitting room. No, this was not like that. This argument stood between life and death for Nina. She shouted, “We were at war before. The people versus Tameri. Give us the old laws and there will be no more deaths.”
The Ambassador cocked his head sideways, then shook it slowly. “You have no authority to say that. You, you are only one member of one group. How could you guarantee that everyone would stand down?”
He was right. He was right, but then again.... “They’re all here, in this square. Ask them!” Her voice cracked.
His voice quirked curiously. “Ask them?” He paused and sighed pensively. “Ask them to put down their arms, to return to work, to stop fighting, and in return they’d get peace? They’d get the same benefits as all other citizens? They’d get a house, a job, no repercussions for their time as activists?”
Defoe shook his head. “Ambassador, it won’t work. They deserve punishment. They’re slackers. Work shy. They’re evil. They’re dangerous.”
“They will get a chance.” The words were firm and final. “They will get a chance to re-join society and contribute to our world. They can re-join their families; they can obtain a job and live without fear. If it means we can all live in peace then I will ensure the courts reopen. If it means no more death then I will abolish the death penalty.”
“No.” Defoe rallied against the rising swell of the crowd. “No! Tameri law is the law.”
“And if it means justice we will re-train our police to respect the old laws!” The Ambassador roared over Defoe.
Their leader turned back to the crowd. “We would need immediate confirmation from all activist leaders that they will lay down arms and re-join the working populations. We will provide their peoples with shelter and easy work entry for three months after the transition. Will they agree?”
All of Alex’s nerves stood on end. What was happening? Was this real? The smouldering acrid smell of tyres burning hung in the air, three Ackersons stood on stage ready to be executed, all was set for a demonstration of power and yet the Ambassador was poised to offer peace? The offer hung stalely in the air for long seconds.
A muffled shout came from far behind her. Another clearer one came from her left, about a hundred metres away. Was that the Erikssen remnants? A shout came from the roof tops. That was definitely Martyn, clear as a bell. They were agreeing? They were agreeing to peace.
The Ambassador could hear them more clearly from his high location on the stage. Alex was counting the shouts. More groups shouted back to the stage than Alex knew existed. There must have been several small groups developing under the radar, evolving and growing. The Ambassador waited and silence extended.
“And what of the Monmouth group?” The Ambassador asked at last.
The silence extended and then cracked. “We agree.” Came a cry, only ten feet behind Alex. She forced herself not to turn to look.
Defoe pulled the Ambassador to one side, but the Ambassador brushed him off.
The Ambassador said, “There’s only one thing left to do then. There must be a hostage. Alex Jenkins. This is not a term that can be negotiated.”
Marcus was at Alex’s elbow. He took hold of her arm roughly and shook his head. How had he got so close to her?
“Marcus,” she whispered. “I have to go.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t know what he will do to you.”
She smiled a desperate, tired smile. “This is what we’ve fought for. The worst he can do... it’s worth it.”
She pushed him roughly. The crowd widened and Marcus slipped into the shadows.
“I’m sorry.” She stepped towards the stage.
“Martyn...” Marcus gasped.
“Tell him, I’m sorry.”
Alex pushed past the people in front of her and vaulted the barrier between them and the VIPs in the first four blocks. Two policemen pinched at her arms and escort her down the humming aisles towards the edge of the stage. Walls of conflicted noise buffeted her; confusion, fury, apathy. Fingers from above fumbled for her and she was hoisted off the ground and sprawled onto the stage floor.
Hands ran up and down her back, her arms, her legs, over her breasts and through her hair. A ceramic knife was stripped from her ankle, then she was hoisted to her feet and dragged before the Ambassador.
His eyes, those eyes, burrowed into her. They seemed to see into her soul, to see her genuine need and to judge her character.
“Release her,” He ordered.
Alex flicked her wrists to let blood flow back into her muscles. Nina was curled into a tight ball at Defoe’s feet, protecting her stomach and face from further kicks. She looked terrified. Alex stepped towards her.
Defoe took out his pistol and held her firmly in his sights. “Don’t try anything,” he warned.
Alex turned back to the Ambassador, still protected in his glass cocoon. “You promised?”
“Do you agree to abide by my terms, no matter what?” He asked, his voice booming across the square.
She shivered. “Yes.”
Defoe’s pistol wavered, drawing Alex’s attention just for a moment. She turned back to the Ambassador and held out her hand, focusing on keeping it from shaking. Adrenaline pumped through her body. She wanted to punch and kick and strangle everyone around her. Something in the back of her mind prodded her insistently, but she pushed it back. She pushed back the memories, she pushed back the violent urges, she pushed back the feelings.
“This is wrong,” Defoe said, spitting the words. “She’s a criminal. I’ve been hunting her for years. And you’ll give her a golden handshake that makes it all Ok?”
“Enough, Defoe.” Swanson was behind him, pistol out, but concentrating on the reaction of the crowds.
Alex could see something warped in him. Defoe looked her up and down, surveying her. “You’re not stupid, girl. You know he’s going to torture you. He’ll drug you, manipulate you and play with your brain until you sing the song he likes. You know that, don’t you?”
She did, but hearing it out loud made her stomach churn. She ignored him and took a step closer to the Ambass
ador.
“Stop,” Defoe commanded.
Something from the crowd drew her attention. A niggling murmur over the din. Someone was shouting her name. Yelling it. Yelling it again and again. Yelling. Martyn.
Her eyes stung. She didn’t look up at the roofs.
“A test,” the Ambassador said. She turned back to the Ambassador at his coy words. “You’ll obey me, no matter what?”
“Yes, I will,” she said.
He looked down at Nina’s crumpled form, then at Defoe. “Shoot the spare.”
Alex gasped; her heart contracted. The pistol moved robotically, swinging down across stretched seconds. Nina stayed so still she could have been dead already. Alex could not breathe.
The bullet flew. Alex turned her head too late and saw her friend jump as the bullet impacted into her ruffled hair. Blood. More blood.
The world fell quiet and numb. All the planning, all of it was for nothing. Sleepless nights, fevered days only thinking of freeing Nina. She was just a silly little naive child who knew nothing about the real world. They failed her.
The feel of a tear trickling across the back of her hand. The grainy wood beneath her palms, the smell of oily gunpowder, the sounds of the crowd, the taste of bile and the dark pool of blood. Her hands and knees rested at the feet of a dictator. His dark leather shoes stepped into her eyeline. The hem of his ebony carbon trousers kissed the leather with each step.
Alex’s scalp prickled as a hand brushed through her hair, dragging her eyes upwards to connect with his. Even through the impassive construct of the mask, Alex could see the fire in his eyes. Was that true evil glinting there, or a vengeful truth that raged against his continuing exile? Was that really her father? There was no proof that he couldn’t have faked. Was this all an elaborate plan to manipulate her, to get her on his side?
“What say you girl?” He spoke softly, coaxing her.
He held out his hand. It looked so strong compared to hers, yet soft and uncalloused. His hand stayed steady, palm facing upwards ready to help her to her feet. Her hand, slowly lifting from the gritty floor, was scratched, dirty and shook like her beating heart.
Rise Page 35
