Liberation (I Am Margaret Book 3) (4 page)

Father Mark sighed and reached out a hand to rub my back.

“It’s all right, Margaret...” When my sobbing eased a little, he added, “Look, after everything you’ve been through in the last six months, it’s perfectly natural you should be all over the place emotionally. But knowing you… can I ask… have you had your EGD contraceptive implant removed, by any chance?”

I gasped, a memory exploding into my mind. ‘Be aware you’ll be a bit up and down emotionally for a few weeks as your hormones get themselves back to the state nature intended,’ Doctor Frederick had said. Then the EuroBloc’s ultimatum and the evacuation had wiped his words from the surface of my mind.

“
Up and down
! That’s it! My hormones are temporarily scrambled. Oh, praise the Lord! As long as I know what it is, I can just put up with it…”

And very stoically, I sobbed my relief into his shoulder for a good five minutes.
Hormones
.

“Better?” he asked, when I released him at last.

“Yes. Sorry.”

“My shoulder’s had worse. Any other sins that particularly leap into your mind, or shall we conclude this?”

My mind was a post-weeping blur of relief.

“Um… no. For these and any other sins I cannot now remember, I am truly sorry.”

“Right. Well, for your penance, say the Lord’s prayer and a rosary for chastity. Oh, and seriously, try and sleep in your own room. I know you’ve all been curling up together as innocently as a litter of kittens half the way across Europe and no, there isn’t actually anything inherently sinful about two people sleeping in a room together – but when you love and desire the person it exposes you to extreme temptation. And you know what we say about temptation.”

“Lead me not into...” I muttered.

“Quite.”

“Okay...”

I made the Act of Contrition and then he spoke the words of Absolution over me and very glad of them I was too.

Even if my biggest sin… wasn’t.

***+***

4

THE INNER CORE

After supper I shamelessly did a bunk from my washing up team and sat at my window, watching the road and failing to hear a word Jon said. According to the satellite chart in the canteen, there was a safe slot for a boat to dock between six and seven thirty tonight and the next slot wasn’t until the following afternoon. Bane would make this one if he could.

I was right. Almost seven thirty, and I was about to go back to the kitchen and see if the team were still at it. Then... a dust cloud was approaching the city… the jeep made breakneck progress through the ruined streets, tore up the ramp to the citadel and skidded to a halt under the canopy. The engine had barely died when the clock struck the half hour. They’d cut it fine.

I sprang off the window seat and crossed the room in almost one leap.

“I take it that
was
the jeep?” said Jon plaintively, from behind me.

I must’ve ignored a question… but I raced on, sliding around the corner on the shiny wooden floor and taking the stairs five at a time.

Bane had just entered the entrance hall. His head came up as he heard my breakneck descent.

“
Careful
...” Then I’d hurtled into him so hard he rocked back on his heels.

“Bane, Bane, you’re back, you’re back…” I wrapped my arms around him as though trying to merge us and I kissed him and kissed him and it was all love, and love, and utter relief and nothing else.
Thank you, Lord, thank you, thank you
...

“Yeah, I’m back.” He kissed my face all over and rested his scratchy, stubbly cheek against mine. “What did I tell you?”

Crying happy, happy tears, I buried my face in his hair and held him tight.
Bane, Bane, Bane
… He smelt of sweat, and salt spray, and dust.

“Oh dear...” He wiped away my tears with his thumb when I eased away enough to look at him. I promptly hugged him again.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I’m being such a...
tap
.
I’ve realised what it is – I…” I put my mouth very close to his ear – I’d been too embarrassed to mention it before, but now… I was just so relieved. “Well, Doctor Frederick took my implant out – my contraceptive implant, y’know? And it’s left my hormones temporarily scrambled.”

His hands went on rubbing my back and hair, not a twitch of embarrassment or surprise.

“It’s okay.” I pulled away to look at his face again. “I, uh, I know. Um, Doctor Frederick told me. Shouldn’t have done, but thought it would be easier – for you – for me – for everyone – if I knew.”

“Well, thank goodness for Doctor Frederick’s breach of confidentiality! Or you’d have had me before a shrink by now, wouldn’t you?”

He smiled, a faint blush darkening his golden cheeks, and drew me in for another hug. We only eased apart when familiar puffing, tapping and pained breaths told us Jon was attempting the stairs. Before we could make any move, a familiar voice said, “Here, take hold,” Jon said, “Thanks,” and the sounds of the descent grew less strained.

“You look tired,
mate
,” said Bane, as Kyle brought Jon safely to the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m fine,” panted Jon. “You know I’ve no energy in the evenings.”

“You’re not
still
on that crutch, are you?” cut in a harsher, female voice, in Esperanto.

“Different bullet hole,” replied Jon in the same language, as I spun around, still half entangled in Bane’s arms.

Just inside the front doors stood Carla and Francesco with rucksacks over their shoulders, treating their surroundings to an unfavourable stare. Oh dear, should’ve given Bane a slightly less smitten-with-love welcome – I was quite, quite sure Carla had been in love with Luciano, pretty sure he’d liked her too, and considered it entirely possible they’d actually been a – very discreet – item.

“Oh, hello,” I said lamely. Honestly hadn’t expected them to come. “Um, welcome to the Citadel.”

“Which is where?” demanded Carla.

“Oh.” Of course, Bane had kept their destination secret. Carla was staring hard at a sign on the wall – memorising the word. ‘Noticeboard’ in Gozitan. She’d need only thirty seconds internet access to find out the language. And if we refused to tell them, it would put their backs up.

So I said, “Malta, of course.”

Not a lie – technically, we were in the Free State of Malta – unless she actually went away and looked the word up, she’d never tell the difference between Gozitan and Maltese. And if one of them let something slip, accidentally or on purpose, we’d see the EuroGov rock up to Malta and have a little warning. That was the theory.

Carla relaxed, clearly pleased. She came further into the hall, to where we stood.

“Oh. Malta. Well, at least it’s sunny.”

Francesco snorted as he followed, brushing at the road dust coating him.

“A little too sunny.”

“Well, we won’t be here for long.”

“Uh… no?” I glanced at Bane. He’d made it clear about the whole, no joint mission thing, right?

“It’s all right,” said Carla, with highly exaggerated patience, “Loverboy’s made it clear we’re ‘joining you’. Ugh, can’t believe the words are coming out of my mouth! We’ll just be un-joining you again as soon as you’ve got your little popguns.” Her voice dropped rapidly to its usual snarl. “Biggest waste of time I’ve ever heard of!
NonLees
!” She snorted derisively.

“If you love the idea so much,” Couldn’t keep the sarcasm from my voice – Carla got on my nerves rather easily, “Why are you here?”

“
Why
?” She pulled a phone from her pocket, thumbed at the controls for a moment, thrust it into my hand and stepped back again.

“I don’t think that’s…” protested Bane, but my eyes had already made sense of the photo displayed and were wishing they hadn’t.

Luciano. Luciano lying on some floor, dead. The bottom of my stomach dropped in shock. Only a small patch of blood stained his shirt where the knife had gone in – Carla was right, he’d died almost instantly.

“Requiescat in pace,” I muttered, though who knew what Luciano’s standing was with the Almighty? Good intentions didn’t make bad actions okay, but if our conscience was clear, the Lord did take that into account and he was very, very good at seeing the best in us…

I flicked onwards… close-up of Luciano’s face. In fiction dead people’s eyes are always supposed to show shock, or fear, or peace, or whatever, but of course Luciano’s were just glassy – and dead.

Close-up of the wound. Shot of a dark basement cupboard – where Gino had hidden the body? Please say Carla had already known, when she went to Rome, that Luciano was dead. That she hadn’t been hunting through that big house, yanking open door after door, hoping to find the man she loved alive. And instead finding…

Well, Carla was hard to be around, but I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

When I made to flick on again, Bane firmly removed the phone from my hands. Had Carla documented the entire retribution mission, perchance? And made Bane look already?

“
That was unnecessary
.” He shoved the phone back at Carla.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Carla. “She should see what she did.”

I saw red. I was halfway to her when Bane grabbed me round the waist, so I made do with waving my finger at her, spitting the words in my sudden rage.

“No! You cannot blame me for this! Luciano made his own decisions, he wasn’t a
puppet
! Don’t you dare take away his free will like that!”

Carla had moved towards me, scowling – Bane looked alarmed. But now she stopped and scowled at me. Bit her lip and pocketed the phone.

“Never thought of it like that...”

Bane let go of me and, fury evaporated – gah,
hormones
! – I sought to get the conversation back onto friendlier lines.

“Um… so, why
are
you here?”

Carla eyed me balefully, no other word for it.

“Because I reckon Luciano would’ve wanted this done. Stupid and ridiculous as it may be. And I didn’t always understand all his crazy plans, but they usually turned out pretty good.”

“Well, we’re, er, glad to have you. Would you like to get unpacked…”

I trailed off, because someone had come into the hall behind me and I’d lost Carla’s and Francesco’s attention completely. If they’d been dogs their hackles would’ve risen...

I turned. Just Father Mark. Father Mark eyeing them in a similarly disturbing manner. If they started circling each other I was going to call for the guards!

But they made do with dissecting one another with their eyes. Father Mark folded his arms and said nothing. Hated having them here, it was obvious. But if we were going to break into a factory or warehouse and steal – sorry, forcibly purchase – a large quantity of cutting edge weaponry without any of us getting killed, we needed their expertise.

Carla and Francesco gradually relaxed.

“You’ve got yourselves a collared jackal, I see,” said Carla mockingly, jackal being the common slang for a serious operative in the Resistance.

“We’ve got a jolly good priest,” I said, when Father Mark showed no sign of responding. Didn’t trust himself to speak to them? “Now, shall we get you two settled?”

“Stuff that. We can do it later. Sooner we get these popguns, sooner we can clear off. So let’s get started.”

I glanced at Bane. He shrugged.

“Fine by me. We can make a start, I suppose. We ate on the boat,” he added, as I opened my mouth.

“Oh. That’s okay, then. We’d better a find a meeting room.”

Kyle and Father Mark took coats from the pegs to cover their cassocks and we all trooped out and down into the square, heading for the administrative block. Carla ended up beside me. Awkward. I mean, what’d I been going to do, slap her? Embarrassing. She’d probably have stabbed me, but still.

“Um, sorry about that. I’m a little… er… temperamental, at the mo.”

She looked me up and down, her gaze finishing on my waist.

“Knocked up, are you?”

“She is not!” snapped Kyle.

Carla looked taken aback.

“What’s got
your
petticoats in a twist? Who the hell are you, anyway?”

“I think that’s big bro, by the look of him,” said Francesco. “And I don’t think what you said counts as very polite, round here. They’re supposed to get hitched first.”

“Uuur-huh. What
is
wrong with you, then?”

Silence. My cheeks caught fire. Kyle and Francesco and Jon all listening... My tongue tied itself in a knot.

“Female issues,” said Bane bravely, rescuing me from this pit of pure mortification, oh bless him!

“Oh.” Carla clearly heard the wordless, ‘ask her when she’s on her own and I dare say she’ll tell you’. Francesco’s expression suggested ‘female issues’ was far more answer than he’d ever require but Jon didn’t bat an eyelid, so Doctor Frederick’s little confidentiality breech had obviously travelled a little further than Bane. An anxious flick of his eyes to me and Kyle became rather interested in the towering cathedral façade – hope he didn’t now think I
was
pregnant. Gah!

We took over an empty conference room, Carla and Francesco leaning their rucksacks against the wall. More trustingly, Bane had left his in the entrance hall of the accommodation block.

“Without meaning to rock the boat,” said Jon, just as we were all settled. “Hadn’t you better take our guests to Eduardo?”

“Oh, it’ll wait an hour or two, surely?” said Bane. “It’s not like he sleeps, that I’ve noticed.” He glanced at Father Mark.

“They’re not exactly roaming the place unaccompanied, are they?” agreed Father Mark.

“Good. Well, I think everyone here knows what we’re trying to do.”

“Is everyone in here in the need-to-know?” interrupted Carla.

“Yes, I think so. Uh, Father Mark, Kyle, this is Carla and Francesco. Carla, Francesco, this is Father Mark, and that’s Kyle. He’s not a priest yet, he’s a deacon, if that means anything to you.”

“Have you been assigned to this, Kyle?” asked Father Mark.

“I’m not actually too sure what you’re doing here in Malta, now I think about it,” I couldn’t help remarking. “Aren’t you supposed to be studying?”

He’d stayed at the Vatican as Deaconal Representative after the rest of the seminary were evacuated – but this place was so secret he wouldn’t be in contact with his classmates any more, so the whole representative thing had had it.

“He begged very hard to come,” said Father Mark dryly. “Help you settle in. Like you haven’t enough people for that.”

“I didn’t beg,” said Kyle. “I asked nicely. Six months sabbatical from studies to make myself useful here. And yes, I’ve been assigned to this project.”

“So yes, Carla,” said Bane, “I s’pose this is going to be the inner core.”