Liberation (I Am Margaret Book 3) (10 page)

“
No
,” I said firmly. “We’re Underground.”

“Oh
merde
!” gasped another girl, looking petrified.

“Calm down. You’re perfectly safe. They’re
not
going to catch us, but if they did, all you say is that you don’t believe in God, and you’ve nothing to worry about.”

“I can’t believe it,” another girl muttered. “I can’t believe we’re out of that place!”

“Believe it.” Pussycat looked like she’d got the cream.

Gasps of fright as headlights swept over us – the other truck was pulling onto the track ahead.

“Don’t worry, that’s the boys from your Facility,” I said. “They’ve got a truck of their own. I don’t think we could fit them in here, could we?”

“Hardly,” said Thérèse. “I feel like a sardine.”

At that the girls started to sing a song in French about sardines in a tin and gradually the crying petered out.

Engine bellowing, the boat smacked from wave top to wave top – small and ultra-fast like the one that had taken us to Gozo. We weren’t headed for Gozo, though. First we were rendezvousing with a ship bound for Africa, to transfer our precious cargo. At least we had lifejackets, this time.

The girls talked and laughed excitedly, mostly enjoying the ride, except for one or two who were seasick. A three hour drive had convinced them that the scary guys with guns were just human beings and quite nice ones too. Now the intermittent moonlight upgraded them to sexy heroes, and there was an awful lot of giggling going on, and much whispering in French. From the way Snail and Bumblebee had their heads together in the boys’ boat, Snail might just be translating the choicest snippets. The guys in our boat put on their guard-faces and tried to ignore it, blushing endearingly.

At least until the cold began to take its toll and shivering girls – young women – began cuddling up to them hopefully. Then they broke out the blankets and generously shared their body heat. Even Kyle ended up with one girl asleep with her head in his lap and a plump, queasy-looking young woman with her arms wrapped around him as though he was the last stable thing in the universe. He rolled his eyes and grinned, clearly amused. Two stunning blondes were pressing Jack particularly hard, drawn to his handsome face and gentlemanly manner like moths to a flame. He adjusted their blankets carefully, looking much less alarmed than most of his companions.

One of the girls sidled hopefully up to Bane, but he presented her with a blanket, said, “Cuckoo’s got a mate, sorry,” and went back to watching our progress on his phone, which had trig-mapping like his old one. And slipped an arm around me.

Alligator was still fending off the blondes with chivalrous concern and a total lack of interest, to the amusement of the rest of the guys, who were smothering laughter – or not: Hippo was cracking up. Bane glanced around.

“I’m missing something, aren’t I?”

“It’s just those girls making up to Alligator,” I said under my breath.

“Why’s that so funny?”

Oh... Bane hadn’t realised...

“Let’s just say,” said Alligator calmly from his seat opposite, “that I’d be delighted to find myself wildly attracted to one of them, but I doubt it’s going to happen.” He used Esperanto, so he clearly was getting a little tired of all the would-be seduction.

Bane looked blank for a moment, then faintly surprised.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Another moment and he added sincerely, “Hell, I’m really sorry, Ja... uh, Al.”

Alligator looked amused.

“Relax, Bane. Everyone has a cross to carry and mine is pretty light in the greater scheme of things.”

Thérèse frowned at him.

“But... you’ll have to register with some stranger and have kids with them... it’s
awful
...”

“Not if you don’t live in the EuroBloc,” he told her gently. “I don’t
have
to do anything. Not that I
don’t
hope to get married someday, if I meet the right woman.” Half under his breath, he added, “Not that I’m worrying about the future right now, considering where we’re living and what we’re doing...”

Grass Snake broke the moment of tension this caused among the guys with a good-natured snort.

“You wish, Gator. You’re going to end up in Eduardo’s shoes, married to your job. You know he’s got his eye on you already.”

Alligator shrugged.

“So be it. I don’t mind. It’d be a pretty huge honour. Wait and see what the Lord has in mind, anyway.”

“The Lord and the boss,” said Grass Snake, and they exchanged knowing grins.

The two blond girls – what were their names? Francine and... no, couldn’t remember – were sulking.

“So I suppose you’ve
got
a boyfriend,” said Francine grumpily, when Alligator caught a descending blanket and tucked it around her just as solicitously as before.

Alligator looked shocked.

“Of course not!”

“Why of course not?” Francine was clearly perplexed. “You can’t register, obviously, but surely you want to...
you know
...”

“Well,
want to
, of course...” Alligator’s cheeks darkened in the moonlight – going very red. “But I’m not going to misuse something beautiful and sacred just for my own pleasure. We don’t believe in behaving like that.”

Francine looked totally bewildered this time. Alligator took a deep breath – and launched into a more detailed explanation. Grass Snake was now trying not to crack up as well.

“Only Alligator,” he muttered to Hippo. “
Theology of the Body 101
to a group of nonBelievers in the middle of the night in a speed boat in the middle of the Mediterranean...”

“He’s a legend,” agreed Hippo. “He really should’ve been Unicorn.”

Bane’s voice broke in on all this.

“There’s the ship...” Bane pointed to a speck on the horizon, back in the direction of France, then consulted his phone. “Go right a bit,” he told the boatman. “Uh, I mean starboard. Yeah, keep it like that.”

He followed our progress for a few more minutes and finally nodded.

“Right, cut the engine. We’re in the pick up zone. Quiet, everyone.”

“We’re going to be getting on a ship soon,” I expanded on that order. “That’s why we need to be very quiet, okay? Other people on the ship are asleep, and we mustn’t wake them up. It’s very important.”

Silence fell. The group around Alligator wore expressions ranging between thoughtful and aghast, so he’d clearly got far enough not to leave them totally mystified. We waited, the dark silhouette on the horizon growing bigger and bigger. Eventually the ship was clearly visible in the light of the moon, towering over us – a few excited squeals and giggles, quickly shushed by the other girls.

“Looks like the
Freedom II
,” I said softly to Bane.

“It’s not. But I think it’s a sister ship.”

The ship glided up to us, slower and slower, coming to a fairly precise halt within a rope’s throw. The name was there on the front, high above us.
Freedom IV
.

“Suppose they thought they’d got a good name, so they might as well stick to it,” I whispered to Bane.

“Great name. Works for me.”

The sailors tied our boat up quickly, fore and aft, fastening the boys’ boat behind, and dropped rope ladders.

Pussycat and a few of the guys climbed up first – the easiest way to show it was safe – and the girls began to follow them. I stayed put, whispering goodbyes and good wishes as the girls headed past and making sure not to turn my un-balaclavared face up towards the deck. Eduardo had promised there’d be kindly people on board ready to take charge of the reAssignees, so when they were all aboard our team members climbed back down, grim-faced, and we cast off.

“What did the captain say?” asked Bane uneasily, the moment the ship was out of hearing.

A deathly silence fell in the boat as everyone waited for the reply.

“They’ve picked up from everyone. Except Vehicle team. They weren’t there.”

***+***

8

THE SCAR

Bane swore.

“Where
are
they!”

“Vehicle didn’t make the rendezvous, I hear.” Father Mark’s voice, as the other boat pulled themselves alongside us.

“No.
Damn!
Nothing we can do. They could be anywhere. Lost, dead, captured. Let’s get home before the Eye of Sauron catches
us
.” Bane glanced at the horizon. “Well, we’d better let the
Freedom
get a bit further away...”

We waited in silence, elation changed to tense worry. Finally Bane gave the order to start the engines and the boatman turned to the right – sorry, to starboard – opening the throttle wide. I was too tired to really enjoy the ride.

“
Tally-ho!
” Alligator sprang to his feet, pointing. Switched back to Latin, “Look there…”

Two dark specks were tearing across the horizon behind us.

“Now that’s
actually
called trying to miss the boat!” snorted Pussycat, nothing but relief on her face.

“They’ll catch the ship, no problem.” Bane sounded satisfied. “They’d better remember to circle around in front and cut their engine, though, or every passenger on board will know something’s been going on.”

“I think if you travel on those ships you expect stealthy comings and goings,” said Alligator. “Besides, the ship must be running almost empty, to carry all the passengers we’ve provided them with.”

On we tore, the mood suddenly light as we talked and laughed under the still-clearing sky.

“What does that mean, anyway?” Fox Two asked Al.

“What?”

“Tallahoe?” His Swiss accent mangled the English word.

Alligator grinned.

“
Tally-ho
. It means you’ve seen what you’re looking for. Well, originally it meant you’d seen a fox.”

“There’s an English word specifically for
seeing a fox
?” said Fox One incredulously.

“When you’re hunting foxes, that’s quite important!” Jack grinned again. “I remember this one time we were out riding with our three dogs and saw this EuroOfficial – so my Dad goes, ‘
Tally-ho!
’ at the top of his voice and points and we went galloping off like mad – stopped on a rise and waited a bit and you know, this guy actually came running up, red and dripping with sweat, thinking he was going to catch us hunting – so my mum goes, ‘You were right, darling, the view from here is simply
marvellous
!’ And off the guy slunk, panting! If looks could kill!”

The Foxes laughed, but Alligator’s face sobered and he said almost under his breath, “Though I sometimes wonder, if it might’ve been him who...”

He fell silent.

“Are your parents... back in the British department?” I asked. When his face tightened in pain I regretted my nosiness. “Sorry, you don’t need to answer...”

He gave a tiny half-smile.

“They were taken,” he said simply. “I wasn’t there. Later a neighbour saw me heading home and – God bless him, he wasn’t even Underground – he tipped me off. I hid locally until... until I knew there was nothing I could do... They never broke them,” he added, with a flash of pride. “After that I made my way to Vatican State. Familiar story, hmm?”

Familiar, but no less painful. I squeezed his hand in silent sympathy, ‘cause there weren’t any words, were there? Couldn’t have happened so very long ago – if Al was more than twenty-three I’d eat my balaclava.

The gloom in our part of the boat didn’t last long. Tonight our teams had saved seven hundredish innocent lives. The EuroGov were going to be absolutely livid!

“Let them!” said Bane. Oh, I’d murmured that out loud...

“Yeah, let them!” said Sister Krayj. “Right, I’ve got hot coffee in these flasks, courtesy of our lovely boatman here, so who’s going to ask me nicely?”

Everyone was prepared to ask nicely, as the guys sought to replenish all that body heat they’d so generously given away. Too sleepy to brave the crush, I dozed on Bane’s shoulder until a cup touched my hand.

“Here, Brown Bird.” A slightly awkward voice.

I blinked and looked around. Kyle. Balancing three cups. He handed another to Bane, who took it with a grateful grunt, then sat beside me.

“Went well, didn’t it?”

“Thank the Lord!” I gulped the coffee, which was cooling fast in the rushing night air.

Kyle lowered both voice and head.

“I’m sorry I was so stupid the other day. In case… in case you didn’t think I meant the first apology.”

I drained what was left in my cup and flung my arms around him.

“Let’s make a deal,” I said in his ear. “You don’t say such stupid things and I’ll try to keep my temper better. Deal?”

“Deal.” He kissed my forehead and looked me in the face. “My brave little sis. When I was in the tower and I was supposed to shoot the guards again before withdrawing – I knew it was a nonLethal but I could hardly do it. Good job they didn’t choose
me
to play sniper, huh?”

“Be fair to yourself, Gecko. First time I actually shot someone with one of those things, it was shoot them or end up in the…” I choked on the word Lab. So much for
brave little sis
. “In the… Somewhere none of us want to be. When you’ve done it once, it’s easy to do it again, ‘cause you know it really is nonLethal.”

“Yeah... After I made myself do it,” he dropped his voice even more, “I got right down on my knees and checked their pulses, I had to. Reckon I
won’t
be so irrational about it next time.”

His hand moved to touch the rifle beside him, face suddenly grave.
Next time
. I quelled a shudder. Then he smiled and made a show of rubbing his ribs.

“I think you’ve bruised me with that tortoise jacket of yours.”

“Well, I almost made it to the truck without it, but Eduardo was lying in wait. Had me velcroed in before I could peep. And Bane’s a willing confederate.”

“If I say good for him will you fly at me again? ‘Cause I don’t want my little sis excommunicated for attacking the clergy.”

I gave him a mock punch in the chest and we both laughed, then sat in a happy silence as the boat tore onwards.

Would there be other missions? Unless the EGD were completely stupid, by this time tomorrow night, every Facility in the EuroBloc would have guards in the camera room at night as well as in the day, and we’d yet to figure out how to deal with
that
from the outside.

Still. Seven hundred lives. That would’ve put a dent in the French department’s organ stocks.

We reached Gozo just before dawn and slept for most of the day, eventually emerging for a few hours to eat, only to sleep soundly all night as well. But happily I woke in time for Mass the following morning, though I’d set no alarm. Jon was in the cathedral already – he’d clearly judged it uncharitable to tap on my door. When we got back he’d acted like he’d forgotten what Kyle had said – but he’d let me make the first move to hug him.

I touched his shoulder to let him know I was there, then knelt beside him for a while before sitting to wait the last couple of minutes before eight o’clock, gazing at the cathedral’s interior. Still getting used to the wonder of a church building openly used as a church.

Very small for a cathedral, but lavishly decorated. Simpler, very beautiful paintings interspersed the typical (apparently) Maltese splendour and on the ceiling at the far end was the most interesting painting of all. When the cathedral was being built, it’d been virtually obligatory for Maltese – and Gozitan – churches to have a dome – but, shock horror, they’d run out of money. So they’d painted one on instead! Astonishingly convincing too, viewed from the right angle. I’d not realised until a certain smug relative took me around to the side and asked if I could see anything odd about it.

“Are you coming to breakfast?” My smug relative fell in beside us afterwards as everyone poured through the interior door into the old chapter house. “Oh, wait a moment, the Siamese triplets are missing one third of themselves…”

I glared, but only a little. Kyle wasn’t the only one who called us the Siamese triplets. We didn’t detach very easily. No doubt the pack instinct would wear off gradually.

“We’ll get Bane first, so see you there.”

“Okay,” he grinned, heading off along the corridor.

Something, probably that same pack instinct, or possibly his stomach, dragged Bane out of bed promptly enough.

“It’ll be nice to relax for a day or two,” said Jon, as we finished our breakfast.

“Yeah, we all deserve a break,” said Bane. “Planning committee isn’t getting together again ‘til Monday. There’s got to be a way. But never mind that now. Let’s get to the TV room.”

“Doubt we’ll have to fight anyone for it at this time of day,” I remarked, but Jon and I followed him out of the canteen.

Sure enough, the sitting room for our corridor was empty. Everyone else was at their work assignments. I went into the kitchenette to make coffees.

“Come on, Margo, it’s about to start,” called Bane.

I went to the door, a mug in each hand, bemused.

“What’s about to start?”

“Don’t you know what day it is, Margo? Twenty-eighth of November.”

My heart dropped into my boots, and my good mood with it.

“Oh... I don’t think I want to watch it.”

“Well, there’ll be nothing else on EuroVee.”

“What’s on
Veritas
?” I deposited the two mugs on the table and went back for mine.

When I came back Bane had switched the TV on and there was an elderly monk on the screen, giving what sounded like a rather fascinating talk on John chapter six. Jon leant forward, ears almost pricking up, but Bane groaned.

“Seriously, you two? Are you trying to torture me? Have you no curiosity? It’ll be over before lunchtime, anyway.”

Jon sat back again, turning his head towards me.

“Actually, Margo, I did think we were going to watch the sentencing.”

Outvoted.

“Fine, but what we saw of the trial was bad enough. If it’s too ghastly, don’t expect me to stay.”

Bane flicked eagerly between EuroVee One and Two, but they both showed the same familiar courtroom, so he switched back to One.

“...We’re here at the High Courtroom in Brussels for the sentencing of Mr Lucas Everington, former Major and Commandant in EGD Security, convicted of Category One Sedition for masterminding the Greater Salperton Facility breakout...”

“He seems to have lost his rank,” remarked Jon.

“EGD Security’s so closely under EuroGov control,” said Bane, “a conviction for Sedition works the same as a court martial in the army.”

Soon two guards walked an unsteady figure through the door and pressed him into the waiting chair. He sat, head down, shoulders hunched, but he didn’t seem to be drooling and his claw-like hands lay still in his lap, no imaginary gardening, so they must’ve left him alone for the last month.

They prodded him to his feet with the tips of their nonLethal truncheons as the judge swept in – he flinched and tried to shrink further into himself. No hat today, though the Perspex was up. No uniform, full stop. Prison pyjamas.

The judge made some introductory remarks – a shameless panegyric to the fairness of the EuroBloc legal system – then the prosecution barrister began to speak...

I groaned.

“Don’t tell me they’re going to go through that entire summary of the non-evidence
again
?”

“But it looks so much better in summarised form, doesn’t it?” said Jon dryly. “They want people to feel he’s being punished
fairly
. The trial hardly got that across, did it?”

Bane snorted in agreement.

“We know out-of-bloc human rights groups are sniffing around this one – despite the unsavoury victim. Gave a whole new meaning to the word farce, didn’t it?”

I groaned again and turned my attention to my coffee. We listened rather intermittently, chatting when it got too boring – or infuriating. By midday, most of the summary was complete and the court – just judge, barrister, prisoner and guards for this – took a break.

“Let’s grab some lunch in the canteen,” suggested Bane.

We got halfway to the door, then the news came on. All about the liberation of Facilities in the French department – we resumed our seats on the sofa as though drawn back by elastic. The bit of catch-up was welcome since we’d slept through yesterday’s breaking news bulletins – then they zoomed in from a forestline to show close-ups of a blasted lock on a yard gate… and an angry Facility commandant gesticulating at them from the battlements… Finally shots rang out and the camera showed forest, sky, mud, forest as the camera crew beat a hasty retreat.

At a safe distance into the forest, the image righted itself. A triumphantly flushed presenter announced, “I’m afraid that’s all the on-site images we’re able to bring you. One does wonder why there’s such a need to enforce a cleared zone around an
empty
Facility! Back to the studio…”