Elysium. Part Two (18 page)

She held him in his gaze for a moment, and then looked aside. There was no use in arguing with him, she considered. He was a bully and competitive besides. If he didn’t want to talk there was no use in trying to make him, surreptitiously or otherwise.

‘You’ll find out soon enough when Gorran gathers everyone here. There was a broadcast, someone has been murdered in Mortehoe.’

‘A murder?’ She looked to the table, reminded of the troubled days of Carrick Tupper’s governorship.

Red looked down into his tankard, his fingernail pressing against the rim. ‘The phlegm on my lungs is back.’ He said quietly.

Joan said nothing, even though she knew he was telling her that he was dying. The way he had spoken indicated it. Soft and detached. She remained watching the grain in the table.

‘I know I fought it off before, but that was some years ago. I’ve grown weaker since then... And winter will be here before I get any better.’ The ticking of the clock made the silence seem protracted and seemingly spurred Red to say more, as though the thought of silence reminded him only of the eternal one which awaited him.

‘Gorran will want to take over the community when I’m done... Doesn’t bear much thinking about, does it?’ He pulled a face and took a draught. ‘I suppose he’ll be fine once he’s given some responsibility. He deals well with the Islanders, I mean the ones in Iceland, and he’s a good hand when it comes to fixing the boats.’

‘And Kenan?’ Joan asked. ‘Won’t he want what his brother has?’

‘Not likely. If he can’t pilfer it and drag it back to his lair then he’s not interested.’ His face turned sour, his former thoughts returning to him. ‘I’ve not been blessed with the sons I wanted... Your boys, Rowan and Fada, they’re the kind of men I wanted running this place once I’m gone. Not a... A waste of fucking space and a lazy bastard.’

‘You can give them some direction yet,’ Joan offered, tired of his conversation. He was right, Rowan and Fada should be in charge once Red was gone, and she intended to see that’s what happened.

‘Direction!’ He scoffed. ‘How can I direct those two. Harriet would be ashamed to see them now. I curse her sometimes, Jo, for giving birth to a rapist and a thief.’

‘She only gave birth to them, they learnt everything else from you.’ She had said the words softly, though the insinuation could not have been veiled had they been spoken underwater.

His eyes burned into her, and yet this time she did not look away. Her pride wouldn’t let her.

‘Da,’ Kenan said, breathless from having run from their upstairs rooms.

Red still loured at Joan, as though he would reach across the table and throttle her. ‘What is it?’ He growled.

‘The papers in the drawer have gone. They’re nowhere.’

‘Your brother hasn’t moved them?’ Red asked, his eyes still on Joan.

‘He hasn’t touched them. He’s not been in there. He’s out gathering the boys...’

‘Let me ask you, Joan.’ Red said deliberately, his knuckles growing white as he grasped his tankard. ‘These honeymooners. You wouldn’t have given them our rooms by any chance, would you?’

Joan said nothing, though her hesitation was all the confession Red needed. He leant forward with a swiftness that seemed near impossible. He grabbed her by the hair, crushing her ear as he did so, and thrust her from her chair. She sprawled to the floor as he screamed at her, telling her she was a stupid fucking bitch.

‘Find Gorran!’ He shouted angrily to Kenan. ‘Spread the word that our meeting is now, not later. Tell the boys to drop everything! We hit the water before sunset!’

Chapter Thirty
.

Birmingham.

Tranter stepped from the InterRail as the afternoon light struggled to break the rain-laden clouds. The noise of the city was a disturbing contrast to the quietness of Stone Hill garrison. They alighted at the edge of the old city, just before Dead Zone. In the hazy distance slumped The Soufflé as though it had finally caved in on itself in their absence.

He scoured the platform for a phone-box, leaving Toubec to watch him disappear into the crowd as he made his way toward one.

She followed him, standing beside the box as he made a call, looking over his shoulder for any who might be taking an interest. After five minutes he replaced the receiver, and joined Toubec.

‘Let’s grab a drink,’ he said, gesturing toward a pub a little way from the station.

They ordered a crimson liquid and emptied capsules of caffeine into them. Sitting away from the other patrons in a shadowed alcove, Tranter kept his back to the wall and scrutinised any who entered. He had a hard guise of suspicion about him, more than he had shown whilst at Stone Hill.

A small black and white television sat on the counter, showing a teletext broadcast regarding the proposed European Nation:

[RIOTS IN MILAN OVER LEAKED EN PROPOSITIONS.

Previous tensions turned to riot
ing in Milan yesterday as leaked documents, containing plans to transform the country into one of three nuclear power hubs intended to power the unified nation states, were made public.

The documents, reportedly left in a hotel foyer in Marseilles and confirmed to belong to the Tolouse Europa Committee, reveal designs for a colossal network of power st
ations between regions of Milan, Luxembourg, and southern France.

Hotly refuted as the work of a fantasist counterfeiter, TEC chairman Johan Matan stated, “These documents are the work of a dangerous and conspiratorial person or group intent on spreading discontent and inciting violence. Already we have seen violence in several cities, and we are in talks with the police of six European nations to bring these persons to justice. I can confirm that no decisi
ons have been made to turn Milan, or any other region, into a mass power system."

When asked i
f the design was plausible he declined to reply...
]

‘So what are we doing?’ Toubec said, turning away from the television. ‘We should let the office know we’re back...’.

‘No, there’s no point.’ Tranter replied bluntly. ‘If they don’t know we’re back already then Stone Hill will make sure they know soon enough. We have to get moving as soon as possible, that’s why I called someone I met whilst... Well, whilst in prison. I’m going to be picked up this afternoon and taken back to the border. From there I’ll take the same route as...’

Captain Stumm, Toubec thought. ‘What do you mean you’re being picked up?’ She asked instead. ‘What am I supposed to do?’

He tried not to shrug but it happened anyway. ‘I’m not going to take responsibility for you as well,’ he took an exaggerated sip of his coffee. ‘If you want to come then it’s on your own back.’

‘You know how to make a girl feel appreciated.’ She rolled her eyes.

‘I’m sorry, I’ve got to go and get something,’ he said, standing. ‘I’ll be about ten minutes’.

She waited for a few moments, and then stepped toward the telephone at the bar. She paid the barman and pushed the ‘talk’ stub. The line trilled momentarily, before a cigarette-torn voice answered.

‘Michael? It’s Sally.’

‘What’s happening down there?’ She heard the distinct sound of him standing quickly and his door closing shut. ‘Every time I try to contact you I'm told I'm not allowed to connect.’

‘It’s a long story. I think they were listening in to our conversation. It wasn't a bad connection, we were cut off. It happened again last night.’

‘Wait, they let you make a call... but they won’t allow incoming calls?’

‘I suppose they didnt want to make it so obvious...’

‘Are you still there?’

‘No, we left today. They weren’t going to help us. Why were you trying to get hold of me? Did you find anything?’

‘You wouldn’t believe what I found. Can you meet?’

‘Can you tell me now? I have to go away again.’

There was hesitation, and in the silence she could feel his frustration. Her line of work had never been able to afford him the closeness he yearned for; she had sacrificed him for her career for so many years. How much more could he take, she wondered. How long until she would mine the very last of his love?

He cleared his throat. ‘There’s a private Edgar Wallace, currently serving at J.R. Exeter for GBH and manslaughter. Looks like a bar brawl got out of hand and the local magistrate managed to wrangle it out of the military’s hands. He’d served at Stone Hill for two years, and it looks like he’s willing to spill the beans for a reduced sentence.’

‘Can’t wait to get back, eh?’

‘Seems so. He’s not the brightest bulb in the box if he thinks he’d be welcomed back after what he’s alleged.’

‘He’s told you already?’ Her ear was growing hot, and she noted Tranter had returned with a bag across his shoulder. She lifted a finger, signifying she wouldn’t be long.

‘The moment he considered there was a chance of him being released early he couldn’t wait to tell us... But Sally, I’d really prefer to tell you in person...’

‘I’m sorry, Michael. I know what I do isn’t fair...’

There was another hesitation. ‘Private Wallace has averred that the military test weaponry across the border. Not only that, he alleges that the weaponry originates from the United States.’

‘Jesus...’ She whispered. the implications were already spiralling into the realms of an international crisis. ‘And they receive money to do so?’ She nodded, pursing her lips.

‘Call it receiving to do so or receiving to keep quiet, either way it’s in contravention of the Monclova Treaty. And because it’s counter to the most controversial treaty since Versailles there seems to be more money being pumped into this operation to keep it quiet than I’ve ever heard of.’

‘Whatever’s being tested must be something special to need to ship it over here.’

‘Some of the things this kid has told us about beggars belief. Mexico and Cuba have kept a close eye on America since the war, they cant even test potato guns in the Nevada Desert without meso-American Intelligence being all over it.’

‘Can you imagine what would happen if they knew?’ Toubec said, her voice lowering. Tranter was looking at her quizzically and she widened her eyes to let him know she was on to something big.

‘Another war is what would happen.’

‘Only this time we’d be dragged into it.’ His voice was weary, as though he had considered this over long weeks.

‘Michael, I want to see you...’

‘But you’ve got something important to do, I know. Listen, all this information, it’s not really your department, is it? I’ve got it all here, the kid’s statement and testimony... I’ve got a list of people who need interviewing, and several that need interrogating. There’s a Czech Ambassador who’s name has been dropped too many times for comfort, and some little known Brussels MP who obviously wants to make a name for himself in the worst possible way. Sally, I can’t wait any longer with it in my lap, Barker’s already asking questions about why I’m meeting a soldier who’s not on our books. I have to let him know. If even half of what he says is true the firm will be made... I haven’t said until now because I didn’t know if you were safe or...’

‘Mike,’ Goose pimples had flared across Toubec’s arms. ‘Did he mention a Dr. John Camberwell?’

There was a rustle of papers, ‘Irish virologist... He’s cropped up a couple of times. Wallace mentioned the name but couldn’t tell me any more. I’ve had do delve into his involvement myself. He lectures in Dublin and spent some time in Brussels a few years back. He’s associated to the MP in some way, but God knows how.’

‘He’s dead. We found out last night after a call to Dublin University.’

‘Dead? What were you doing investigating him?’

‘Just following a lead. The moment we were told he was dead the phone was cut. Whoever was listening in on us didn’t want us looking into Camberwell’s background.’

‘Christ. This is insane, Sal. By the end of the day Stone Hill will be swarming with MoD police. I don’t care if the military look after their own, they can’t cover this up if it’s true.’

There was a moments hesitation between them as they remembered footage of the conflicts between the MoD and the MoC of the past. While the country tried to right itself after The Great Pathogen the two ministries had fought for control of the country, finally settling on a tentative coalition. That coalition had been hungering to fail and resolve upon a single power once and for all.

‘Do what you have to do, Michael, and thank you.’ She meant thank you for finding the information when she had offered so little herself, and yet it seemed strange to thank the incitement of what was to follow.

‘I love you, Sally.’

‘I love you too.’

She replaced the phone and shook her head at Tranter. ‘We have ourselves a distraction at least, but we need to move quickly before the far side of the border becomes a bureaucratic circus.’

He questioned her and she told him about the phone call she had made to Michael previously. His brow furrowed when she mentioned Dr. Camberwell.

‘Who the hell was he?’

‘Whoever he was, it looks as though it wasn’t only the Institute he visited when he went to Brussels.’

‘That was years ago.’ Tranter leant back and drew a hand lethargically across his mouth. ‘What’s he been doing since then?’

‘It doesn’t matter now, not for us, anyway.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Michael will be with his boss already, within half an hour they’ll be on the phone to God knows who. In a few hours time preparations will be being made to get to the bottom of this whole Stone Hill charade. We, on the other hand, should be concentrating on our crossing of the border.’

‘We’re being picked up in an hour.’ Tranter looked uncomfortable. ‘Look, Toubec...’

‘Bridgewater, I know... I know why you’re hesitant for us to go together. What you were involved in isn’t exactly a mystery.’

He raised a brow, trying to feign surprise, though he wasn’t sure why. His breach of conduct had been a minor sensation, heralded as The Bridgewater Affair in the broadsheets and The Ministry Rogue in the rags. Some papers had misunderstood and considered him to have been a government officer whom had lead a military group across the border, whereas others had simply focussed on the presumption that he had sent Captain Stumm to die unnecessarily. Which version Sally had read, and what she believed he was only vaguely interested in and, catching sight of the clock on the wall behind her, he stood and suggested they should be making their way.

A battered military carrier was waiting in the shadows of an alley deep in Dead Zone borough, it’s black windscreen shining like a loitering Dark Lens.

Tranter thrust his chin toward it and placed his hand on Toubec’s elbow, guiding her across the road. She considered pulling away, though a sudden realisation dawned on her that he was terrified of history repeating itself, that he feared there was a golden bullet waiting in a little-used rifle at Bridgewater destined to carve an unassuming hole in her temple, just as fate had reserved for Captain Stumm.

In the time it took them to cross the road toward the military carrier, Toubec had reduced the universe to clockwork, an enormous celestial machine in which she was an irrelevant appendage. As she stepped up on the curb, she saw two cogs revolving toward one another, she one, the golden bullet the other. She pulled her arm from Tranter’s hold.

‘Listen, you’ve got to stop thinking it’s your job to protect me. It’s freaking me out!’

‘What do you mean?’ He replied, stopping some yards from the carrier.

‘Alluding to Stumm all the time, holding my arm to cross the road. It’s making me feel like I’m heading to my grave.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise...’ He lied, resisting the urge to lay his hand on her shoulder. As much as she annoyed him she was growing on him, like a satisfying itch or a favourably distinctive scar.

A rap on the windshield. Tranter turned and nodded, stepping to the passenger door and leaning in the open window.

‘Beano? How’ve you been?’

Toubec stooped and peered in to see what looked like a homeless person, toothless and bedraggled. Ribbons hung from his lank hair and greasy beard. He peered over a pair of ridiculously feminine shades, his tobacco-yellow eyes on Toubec.

‘I’ve been living. Who’s this one?’ His voice was thick as tar, the product of a life hungover.

‘Toubec? Colm Beano. Beano? Sally Toubec.’

Beano raised his hand to the open window. Toubec shuddered as she took the stained fingers and grasped for as short a time as possible without appearing rude.

Tranter opened the rear door and motioned for Toubec to get in.

‘Beano was a good friend to me while I was locked up. Looked out for me when everyone found out I worked for the MoD.’