3 SUM (19 page)

“Prof, do you mind removing the mask?”

“He's got a thing about germs lately, mad professor and all,” said Anais tapping the side of her head. “I could tell you all about it later.”

“Please do, here's my number,” he said handing her a card.

“I'll call, I promise,” said Anais, pocketing his desires but not hers.

He smiled and you could see his yellowed bucked teeth. “Who's the lucky prisoner?” asked the guard, raising the second barrier.

“Steve 873.”

“You want him sedated?”

“That won't be necessary,” I mumbled. “I've read his file. I'm not expecting any trouble.”

“OK Prof, you know your way around; here's the passkey, D-ward.”

I was handed a large ring of steel into my latex gloved hands, with a long black key dangling from the middle.

“Thanks.”

“One last thing, Prof,” said the guard just before we moved along.

“Yes?”

“You gonna give me another souvenir?”

“Of course, do you want a surgical gown? They're very popular at the moment.”

“I was thinking of another one of these.” He pointed to the skulls neatly aligned under the large photo of the guards playing netball.

“No problem, next visit.”

Anais took her hand off the pistol, and drove us to the visitors parking before we threw up.

We followed the signs, and made our way to D-ward, unlocking several doors. Much to our disappointment, we were greeted by a tranny nurse.

“This way, if you please. Neurological to your right, cancers to the left.”

He sounded like a jaded flight attendant delivering the ‘exits to the front and rear of the plane' speech; rehearsed and falsely pleasant.

“Diabetics wear a black stripe down the leg. Myocardial is straight ahead, and you'll find Steve 873 on his exercise break.”

The deeper we crawled into the labyrinth, the more nervous we became. We didn't want to overstay our welcome.

“I'll hang around, if you don't mind,” said the nurse.

“Of course not,” I lied.

“Tell me, what are you going to do with him?”

“Just a routine probing.”

“Sounds fun. It's going to hurt though isn't it?” His eyes were lit up, and he was almost foaming at the mouth.

“You like pain?” asked Anais.

“On the prisoners, not me.”

“Of course,” said Anais. “I should have guessed.”

“And, honey, don't mind me saying this, but you're the cutest looking shemale I ever saw in my life.”

“Thanks, that's what most guys say,” replied Anais.

I saw Steve 873 in the exercise yard. He looked terrible, he'd lost weight, looked withdrawn and worse; his hair was a complete mess.

I walked up to him; certain he wouldn't recognise me in mufti.

“Valery 01,” he shouted.

“You're mistaken. I'm Professor Altruist Huxley.”

“What's this about, Valery, they got you in here too?”

I winked.

“Nervous twitch, eh.”

“I'm going to take you out of here for treatment,” I said. “I'm a doctor.”

“Why are you saying it like that, Valery? Doctooor. This is crazy.”

“For Mother Nature's sake, Steve 873! I'm Doctor Altruist Huxley taking you out of prison with me, right now. Unless you prefer it here?” I had to spell it out, but Steve finally got the message.

“I'm with you Doctooor,” he said.

But the nurse wasn't, he'd smashed the alarm on the wall. Bells were ringing, and Anais was wringing his neck.

“I swear I'll snap your neck,” she shouted, “if you don't tell me how we get out of here.”

“The old hospital, it's your only chance. There's a hole in the wall.”

“Where?” asked Anais.

“That's all I know.”

Anais applied more pressure.

“I'm telling the truth.”

“You know what? I believe you.”

The snap sent a chill down my spine, but Steve smiled at the execution. I guess prison toughened you up, sort of.

There was a time when I'd wanted to be a nurse. It was the allure of the outfit: dark blue dress, webbed belt with a silver buckle, sexy cap, nylons, and ...

“Snap out of it, Valiant,” said Anais.

“Like his neck?”

I knelt down and put the cowboy hat on the nurse's head. Though he wasn't Jesse James, and we weren't ‘The Hole in the Wall Gang' just yet.

“Follow me,” said Steve, “and give me the key. It's in E-wing along the western wall.”

If anyone tried to stop us Anais pointed her gun, and they backed off. The siren and flashing red lights in the darkness worked in our favour. The patrolling nurses were disorientated.

We all held our breath as I turned the key. Inside we were frozen, not in time, but fear. The thick rubber boots of the guards ran by before Steve flicked all the switches he could find.

There were rusting empty bedframes, and abandoned wheelchairs lying scattered like shell scarred tanks on a battlefield. The sign said Geriatric Ward.

“What do you think happened to the patients?” I asked Anais.

“You mean the un-young. Minesweeping duties,” she replied.

“Could they use the equipment?”

“They were the equipment.”

We ran through other empty wards, built in the days when no one believed resources would ever run out, that there would always be a bandage, a plaster cast, a scan, an operation, post-operative care, a bed, a care team. Sure we still had nurses, doctors, ambulance trannies, but they were saving us in a cleaner, more cost-effective way. We'd supported disease, made it our friend, but it had come to dinner and emptied the cupboards.

If you were hospitalised, you had an overlying psychiatric problem. The obese were food addicts. Fractured bones were symptomatic of self-harm. The only weaknesses allowed were short and long sight. The scales of justice were used to weigh the tablets, the syrups, and the powders. Once you were back on your feet, you were cannon fodder.

“I have a hunch,” I said. “This way, neonatal.”

There it was, just wide enough to squeeze through, a hatch with two little doors. Anais shot the padlock holding the chains on it and on us.

“How?” she asked me.

“It was once a Foundling Hospital. Illegitimate babies posted by wailing mothers. It's a footnote in Carla Marks' ‘Manifesto,' you should read it more often.”

We wriggled through one by one, given a new life.

“I never thought I'd thank a shemale, but I owe you one,” said Steve to Anais.

“For Mother Nature's sake, I'm a woman, OK?” said Anais.

We were at the back of the prison near the river, and headed down the embankment. The adrenaline kept us moving, and Steve and I had a lot of catching up to do. Anais walked ahead.

“How's the heart?” I asked Steve.

He laughed. “They told you that?”

I nodded.

“Valery 01 ...”

“Valiant 01”

“Whatever.”

“I went to prison because I wouldn't let up, wouldn't let you go. I knew something was wrong, tried to find you. Guess I asked too many questions. I was arrested outside your flat.”

I hugged my best mate, but Anais was my mate.

“Where are we going?” asked Steve, exhausted.

Night was descending, the air cold.

“Maribel Arches,” said Anais.

“Then let's take a shortcut, and go back to prison,” said Steve, folding his arms.

“There's a secret bunker equipped for survival, and currently vacant.”

“Excuse me, Colonel, if it's so secret, how'd you get to know?” asked Steve.

Anais looked at him, daggers drawn.

“So he told me; we are best friends,” said Steve.

“Fatale Eve left me a message,” said Anais looking at me, “thought I might need a safe place to hide.”

“Fatale ...,” said Steve.

“I'll tell you later; she was in Russia,” I said.

“I never asked, but how did you two get on behind enemy lines?”

“We did OK,” we said together.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

We waited till nightfall and, avoiding the Thames searchlights, meandered our way along the bank. At a nondescript storm drain, we dropped to our knees. Anais was still clutching the compass, the map was in her mind; I just hoped she hadn't lost it.

“Don't worry about getting wet,” whispered Anais. “We'll change at base camp.”

Base camp was the bunker beneath Maribel Arches, the underground fort designed to hold the elite should Armageddon strike.

Steve would normally have worried about his appearance, like his outfit getting soaked, and how it would hang after a wash. However, he was wearing a very unfashionable prison uniform, and we had greater concerns.

“My hair, will it get wet?” he asked.

OK, so he was still worried.

I lifted the heavy lid with my cold wrenched fingers, and we descended, careful not to slip on the rungs that hung above the abyss. The bottom was like a submarine; Anais' torch was like the periscope.

It didn't matter who ruled the world or your part of it, the one thing you could count on were rats. There were hundreds of them along the way. We waded along the sides, water up to our knees. I went first, brushing the scuttling vermin out of our path.

I expected Steve to crumble but he remained focused, resolute. My one regret for him was that he wouldn't discover the joy I'd found. Of course he was happy as he was, but so was I in a way until the experiment.

At the end of the sewer was a circular steel door, a perfect fit. I figured it was as at least as thick as the vault at the National Bank. There was a keypad too, and we all hoped Anais had the right code.

Eight green lights appeared but the ninth stayed red, the gateway shut. Suddenly we all felt colder. I'd used up my nine lives too, but this cat was still licking the cream. The traffic lights went down, and Anais started again. If Steve hadn't had a heart problem, he was about to get one.

“Last chance,” said Anais.

It was worse than meeting Queensy or Fatale, but not as bad as going under Huxley's knife. I held Steve's hand, and he almost kissed me when the ninth light went green, only Anais beat him to it.

I swung the vault door shut behind us, the bolts locking us in, safe but not sound. Anais pushed the plastic screen, everything behind it was a blur, and then it disappeared in a blizzard. First the powder sprayed onto us, then the hot water. Instinctively, we shut our eyes.

Our clothes and hair were gone, but we were still glad to see the robots holding towels.

“I'm Nivek, your host. This is Nala,” the yellow light on top of its head blinked, “and this is Ninor,” another flasher. ‘Thank you for complying with the fumigation.'

“Like we had a choice,” said Steve.

They were more like trashcans on wheels, but I wasn't about to upset anyone's feelings, not even a one armed robot.

We dried and took the dressing gowns off the hooks. Ninor was in the shower cubicle with a flamethrower, torching the rats that had jumped aboard.

“You're right, you are a woman,” said Steve to Anais.

He didn't mention his hair; he was still in shock.

Already I could tell this accommodation wasn't for your average tranny. The carpets were better than the ones at the Red Star, there were mirrored lifts, and was that a cocktail bar ahead?

If this was a bunker, Steve was a muscled heterosexual stud like the ones screwing the babes in my forbidden magazines. That seemed like another life, and it was. This place was a palace.

Nivek, the talking wheeled robot with a steel skin, offered to show us around. He was bigger than the other two, and the boss. Even with robots, size mattered.

“Later,” I said, “we're beat.”

“Then may I show you to your rooms?”

“Lead the way,” said Steve.

“Is anyone sharing a room?” asked my metallic friend.

“Yes,” I replied, “us two.”

I squeezed Anais' hand, and Steve looked upset.

“Oh don't worry, Steven, you won't get lost,” said Anais.

Room, that's how Nivek described it. Apartment would have been more accurate.

“So this is how the other half live,” I said to Anais.

“Trust me soldier, not even I have seen this much opulence.”

When she called me soldier I knew exactly what she wanted, needed. And I was in no mood to hold back.

“You're getting better with age,” said Anais on the bed. She was brushing her hair.

“Practice makes perfect,” I said.

“Well, don't stop practising just yet.”

“I can't stop now, never will.”

“Then maybe you are perfect,” she said. “What was that scream?”

“Steve, he's just discovered he's bald.”

We slept holding each other tight, not wanting to let each other go.

Chapter Forty

The phone rang. We looked at each other, too nervous to answer, but it persisted. I picked it up, it was Steve.

“Hi guys,” he said. “Nivek's preparing breakfast, you interested?”

Oh, we were interested; we needed to replace the calories lost last night.

Breakfast was an understatement for the poached salmon, croquet potatoes and salad that Nala and Ninor served us. There were napkins to match the lace tablecloth, tea, coffee, and orange juice. Bless him, Nala even pulled out Anais' chair. This was forbidden for males of any flavour, as was holding a door open for a woman; it was seen as condescending, patronising, and demeaning. But this chap was a robot, so I guess it didn't matter. Anais seemed pleased anyway. And if she was happy, then so was I. I wasn't sure about our new friends, but Anais at least had a killer body.

There were no grounds to walk in hand in hand after breakfast, but there was plenty to explore. Steve went back to his room, for another shower.