Kardinal (12 page)

ELIZABETH Wilson ran a hand through her hair. She looked demoralised. She looked old and broken. She sat behind her desk in her office at Millbank, elbows on the desk, head in her hands.

“I should have done as Fuad asked and stepped aside,” she said.

“No,” said Christine Murray. “He wanted to humiliate you.”

“And this isn’t humiliating?”

“Liz, we haven’t lost yet. The polls only opened three hours ago.”

Wilson snorted.
She was right
, thought Murray. It was a disaster.

She glanced out of the office window. It was a sunny day. But few people wandered the streets. Those that did looked downtrodden as usual. A beaten population. A crushed electorate.

“It would have made no difference had you thrown in the towel,” Murray finally said.

“What do you mean?”

“He would have imprisoned us, killed us, all the same.”

In the main office, party workers were gloomily packing boxes with files and stationery. Men in blue overalls were folding desks and chairs and piling them up against the walls.

“We could have struck a deal,” said Wilson. “This is politics. I’m good at politics. I could have made a deal.”

But she didn’t sound convinced.

“With the devil?” said Murray.

“Better deal with the devil than lose a bet to him.”

“Lawton will – ”

“Lawton caused this,” Wilson snapped.

“Caused it?”

“He pissed them off, didn’t he. Attacked them without cause. Picked on them. Murdered them.”

“You can’t murder something that’s already dead. And Jake Lawton has saved this country time after time.”

“And where has that got us? The waters are still poisoned. The people are starving, they’re jobless, they’re homeless. And we’ve still got vampires. Lots of them.”

Murray stayed quiet. There was no getting through to Wilson. The politician was desperate. And who could blame her? She’d never guessed when she became an MP in 1987 that this would be her fate. She’d had an affair with another newly elected MP at the time. He was called Graeme Strand. He, too, had become Prime Minister. And he, too, suffered at the hands of the Nebuchadnezzars.

Strand had been murdered in office.

At least Wilson was alive – for now.

“Perhaps Lawton did kill that man in Iraq,” said Wilson.

“He did kill a man.”

“An innocent man, then.”

“A suicide bomber targeting men and boys at a mosque.”

“That’s not what you believed at the time.”

“I was wrong.”

“You were a hundred percent convinced; I saw what you wrote.”

“Liz, I was wrong. I was very wrong. A hundred percent wrong. And I’m ashamed of it to this day that I accused him of murder. I accused him before I knew the truth. Before I knew him.”

Wilson was quiet for a few seconds before she said, “I never thought it would come to this. I wanted to be Prime Minister, you know, but not like this. And I didn’t want it to end in this way. What are we going to do, Christine?”

“Jake’s out there – ”

“But where?”

“And… and my son.”

“How does that help?”

“He won’t give up. My child is an angry young man. He… he had spoken before of killing Fuad. He thought it was his destiny. Fuad and the Nebuchadnezzars have destroyed out family. My husband is dead, my eldest. There’s only David now, and he sees it as his mission to kill Fuad.”

“Your thirteen year old is planning an assassination, and you allow it?”

“I don’t believe you said that.”

Wilson put her head in her hands. “Neither do I. My democratic instinct. My moral compass.”

“Our moral compasses point in different directions, now. Needs must.”

“I don’t know if I approve.”

“You’re not in a position to approve or disapprove, Liz. The time for fair play is over. It’s war, now. And sometimes war is unpleasant, and it means not talking to your enemies, but killing them.”

“Did Jake Lawton teach you that?”

“He did, and he was right.”

DAVID Murray had seen photographs of elections like this. But they weren’t held in Britain. They were in poor countries where democracy had only just been introduced.

Here in the UK, democracy was dying – but the images were the same. Long queues of wretches waiting to go into a polling station. Waiting to
vote. Waiting to change their destiny.

But unlike those voters in poor countries who were celebrating the birth of freedom, these London voters weren’t smiling. They looked sad and scared. They
looked grey and doomed. Their fates were sealed, whichever way they voted.

And they seemed to know that
, David thought.

The polls suggested that the Nebuchadnezzars were going to win the election.

He’d heard on the radio that morning that not many people were likely to vote. But it was different here. More people were turning up.

David, Kwan Mei, and her Turkish friend Ediz Ün watched dozens of voters filing into the polling station in Brixton.

David would have voted himself, but he was not even fourteen, yet. Mei was eighteen but an illegal immigrant. Ediz was twenty and had a UK passport. He’d voted earlier, although he’d said it was pointless.

“The Nebs are going to win,” he’d said. “But I have to make my voice heard. That’s why I’m going in there and voting.”

Now, sitting on the wall outside the polling station, Ediz said, “Look at them guys.”

David looked. Three Nebuchadnezzar thugs stood like bouncers at the door of the polling station. They were big guys dressed in black. The sun glinted menacingly off their sunglasses. Sweat glossed their shaven heads. Muscles bulged under their jackets – or maybe those were their weapons. They were certainly armed. Every Neb thug carried guns, despite it being illegal in Britain. But they ignored the law. They made up their own. And no one tried to stop them. They had already taken over – even before the election result was known.

“They’re checking out the voters,” said David.

One of the Neb thugs put his arm out to stop a woman entering the polling station. She seemed to argue with the men in black. But it made no difference. One of the thugs just shoved her out of the way. She staggered away and crashed to the floor, crying.

David started to leap off the wall and rush to her aid. But Mei grabbed his arm. He looked at her. She shook her head.

Now, the thug stomped towards the woman.

He towered over her.

“You ain’t coming in if you’re wearing a Tory badge, darling.”

“I’m… I’m voting,” said the woman. “I’ve a right to wear any badge I want. It’s a free country.”

The thug laughed. “You think so?” He kicked her. She cried out. The other voters, filing into the polling station, looked away. The Neb kicked the woman again. She cursed him. He said, “Fuck off before I put a bullet in your brain, bitch.”

The woman staggered to her feet. She was crying. She limped, holding her side where she’d been kicked.

“I have a right to vote,” she screamed.

“Not here you don’t,” said the Neb thug.

The woman stumbled away.

The thug turned to face those waiting in line. “Anyone else planning to vote the wrong way? Tell you now, you ain’t going in there if you’re wearing badges or anything supporting the Opposition parties. You want to vote, take them off right now.”

Mei said, “We have to leave London.”

“Leave?” said David.

“Yeah, leave,” said Ediz. “Go north. Start killing vampires. Start killing them up there, then travel south, killing them as we go. Wipe them out, yeah?”

“You two go,” David said.

“Why you not come?” Mei said.

“I’m going to kill George Fuad.”

“You never get to him if he wins,” Mei said.

“Mei’s right,” said Ediz. “He’ll be protected. Best to kill the vampires.”

David folded his arms. “Screw the vampires. Fuad’s the head. Cut off the head, the body will die.”

Mei rolled her eyes. “He is not head. He is man. I come from country not democratic. Like Britain will be. You can’t get to leaders. They are like ghosts.”

David watched the people. They were like ghosts, too. A country of ghosts.

He said, “I’ve lost nearly everything in the past few years. I was ten when all this started. Going to school. Looking up to my big brother. Playing football with my dad. Wishing I could see more of my mum. Now, my dad and my brother are dead. My mum is virtually held prisoner by the government. And when Fuad gets into power, she might not even survive.”

“Vampires killed your father and brother?” said Ediz.

“No, the Nebuchadnezzars did. George Fuad and all of them. The vampires are just weapons they use.”

“Then take away weapons,” said Mei.

David shook his head. “This is all about the Fuads. They started all this. When that old man Afdal Haddad was six years old all those years ago, he came to Britain to live with the Fuad family. They looked after him. They helped him become clever, and when he became clever he made those pills that started all this. He made the first vampires because the Fuads looked after him and helped him.”

“But the vampires are more of a problem,” said Ediz.

David leapt off the wall. “You go and kill vampires. Jake will kill Nimrod. Me… I’ll kill Fuad.”

“You’re just after revenge,” said Ediz.

“Too right,” David said.

“That’s OK, but you’ve got to be cool about this,” said the Turkish youth. “This is a war, and you can’t think of war as revenge. You’ve got to plan. You’ve got to think about strategies and all that kind of stuff.”

“Fine, you think of all that stuff,” said David.

“I lose people too,” said Mei, her eyes full of tears.

David felt himself blush. “I know.”

“I lose my mother when I come to Britain. I lose friends in war against vampires. I never go home, now.”

“I know,” he said again. “I know.”

“But I not go crazy,” said the girl.

“I know you don’t go crazy.”

She jumped down to join him, her eyes red with tears. She reached out to touch his face.

Gunfire barked.

Mei and David instinctively threw themselves to the pavement. Ediz dived off the wall and joined them.

Screams filled the air.

David glanced up.

The people filing into the polling station were also on the ground.

The Nebuchadnezzar thugs had their pistols out and were firing.

A young man dressed in a messy grey suit was running down the street.

The Nebs chased him. They kept shooting in his direction. There was panic.

David got up and grabbed Mei. Ediz leapt to his feet. The three of them ducked away behind the wall and peered over it.

They saw the young man buckle. Hit in the leg. He staggered and fell. The Neb’s caught up with him. One of them was dragging another black-shirt away and saying, “No, be careful.” But another thug reached the fallen man and stood over him. The Neb aimed his weapon at the bloke. He was going to shoot him in cold blood. Shoot a wounded man.

The second Neb shouted, “Get away from him, Tony.”

But it was too late.

The young man pulled open his jacket.

David gasped.

He had explosives strapped to his body.

“Down,” said David.

He, Mei, and Ediz ducked behind the wall.

“Humans first!” shouted the young man.

And then the explosion came. It shook the wall. It rocked the pavement. It made David’s ears ring. Lumps of meat rained down. A scrap of grey material floated around in the debris. The smell of flesh and cordite filled the air. Then the sounds became muffled. David couldn’t hear. Mei was shouting at him, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. She was pulling at his arm, hauling him to his feet. He got up. He was dizzy. His head hurt. He was virtually deaf. Mei’s face was grey with dust. Ediz was slapping the side of his head with his hand, as if he were trying to dislodge something from his ear.

David scanned the street. Smoke and blood everywhere. People running. People screaming. Nebs shooting. Killing indiscriminately.

Mei dragged David away. Along with Ediz, they fled.

“IT was a guy from Humans First,” said David. “He sacrificed himself. I couldn’t do that, I just couldn’t. But maybe I’m not meant to be a hero. I’m just meant to be a scared little boy who wants all this to be over, who misses his dad and his brother and his – his mum.”

His companion said nothing. He was an old man. Sixty or maybe seventy. It was hard to tell. His face was covered in a wiry, grey beard. His skin was creased and tinged yellow. But his eyes, they shone like diamonds. His name was Bill, and a long time ago he’d been a soldier. Now he was homeless. He spent his time near Leicester Square. David sat with him on a bench, watching the people scuttle by, watching the litter blow around. It was about 1.00pm. In the past, Leicester Square would have been teeming with people at that time. Not anymore.

The square was desolate. The cinemas were shut now. The shops selling trinkets to tourists were gone. Most of the restaurants were boarded up. And no Starbucks, no Costa Coffee. A few sad-looking cases loitered around, some eating burgers they’d bought from a van on the square. They would all try to disappear after dark. The vampires would come, so humans had to find hiding places – if they could.

But David wasn’t scared of vampires. He wore the Nebuchadnezzars’ mark. Bill did too. David had stolen him one. Clipped it to the old man’s hat. “Since you never take that off,” he’d told Bill, “it’ll be safe there on the brim. Don’t lose it.”

David had met Bill the previous year. The boy had been looking for Jake Lawton. He had been looking for him because he wanted to kill him. A Nebuchadnezzar called Bernard Lithgow had told David that if he killed Lawton, it would bring his brother Michael back to life.

In his heart, David knew it was a lie. But he was desperate. Desperate to see his brother again. But his brother was a vampire. You couldn’t make vampires human again. And why should David have believed a man like Bernard Lithgow?

He was Fraser Lithgow’s dad. Fraser was how this all started. He had been a low-life drug dealer. He got hoodwinked into distributing the pills called Skarlet that produced the first batch of vampires in 2008.

At the beginning, Fraser had been an idiot. Jake had been out to get him. But soon they became friends, and they fought the vampires together.

But Fraser’s dad tried to tempt his son to the dark side. Like Darth Vadar did with Luke Skywalker. Unlike Luke Skywalker, Fraser had crossed over.

David didn’t know why, but Fraser went to the Nebuchadnezzars. He went and was used as a weapon. Used like a terrorist organization would use a suicide bomber. They sent him to poison London’s water supply, telling him the drug he put into the system would cure people of vampirism.

Why had he believed such a stupid thing? Why had David believed such a stupid thing?

They were desperate, that’s why. Desperate for all this to come to an end. Desperate for a normal life.

But normal life wasn’t going to be that easy. There would have to be suffering and war and death before Britain could be normal again.

David had found Bill last year because the old man knew where to find Lawton. Bill knew where to find a lot of former soldiers. He lived on the streets, and he heard all the rumours and the whispers that buzzed around. With some suspicion, he’d led David to Jake.

He was never going to kill the man who was like a brother and a father to him. Although he made a half-hearted attempt, and nearly got himself killed by Aaliyah, he’d never really mean to hurt Jake Lawton. Not that he had much chance of doing that in the first place.

“I didn’t mean to kill him, you know,” said David now. “Jake. I never meant to. I couldn’t have, anyway. You know that, don’t you?”

Bill waved his protests away.

“You understand why I did it, Bill?”

Bill drank some cider from a plastic bottle. David smelled it. The drink made him thirsty.

“I feel so scared, Bill.”

“We’re all scared.”

“I feel like I haven’t been a kid, like it’s my destiny never to be one.”

“There’s war for you. Kids grow up quickly. You should be proud. You’re a hero.”

“No I’m not.”

“No you’re not, then. What do I know? Old soldier.”

“I want to kill George Fuad.”

Old Bill nodded.

“But my friend Mei – ”

“She’s a brave one, that little Chinese lass.”

“Yes. Mei wants to go after vampires. Not after Fuad. But if you cut off the head, the body dies, doesn’t it, Bill?
”

“Yes, but you also want him dead ’cause he’s got your mum.”

David flushed.

“And,” Bill went on, “because you reckon he killed your dad and your brother.”

“I have seen some shitty things in the past few years, Bill. Things if you’d told me about when I was ten, I’d say they were cool. But they weren’t cool. I’ve seen kids die. I’ve seen boys my age being shot these past few days because they stole bread to feed their families. I saw that guy today sacrifice himself. Is this our fate, to suffer and die?”

“’Fraid it might be. Everything ends up in death.”

“Unless you’re a vampire. They go on. They never end.”

“They do, David. They do when they face you or Jake or that Chinese lass and her friends. This is a bad war. Worse than war between men. I know some people think it’s time we lived alongside these vampires.”

David grunted.

“I know,” said Bill, “I know it’s a crazy idea, but some people think it’s time to talk to them, make peace.”

“You can’t make peace with an enemy that just wants to kill you. Not just defeat you, but kill you.”

“You know, maybe we don’t like them because they are our predator. Humans ain’t had a real predator since we left the Savannah. Maybe they are nature’s way of culling us. We’ve had our way too long.”

“Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t fight back.”

“That’s true, we should fight back. And it don’t mean it’s wrong. Me, I think it’s crazy. We can’t live side by side with vampires. We have got to fight them and beat them, or we are fucked, son – seriously fucked.”

The old man drank again. His breath smelled. His beard was stained.

He said, “Humans are odd, you know. We hate anything different. It scares us. I was a racist when I was younger. Not kick a Paki to death or nothing like that. Just, you know, what the fuck are you doing in my country? F
uck off.”

David listened.

“Then I met and fell in love with this gorgeous West Indian girl,” said Bill. “Flora was her name.”

The old man’s eyes watered. Memories making him cry.

He said, “She was wonderful and taught me to see that people are just people. Some good, some bad. Colour’s not a bar to goodness. But it ain’t a bar to badness, either. I served with some Indian fellows in the Army. Great they were. Hell of a laugh. Seriously brave. You learn as you go on. What I’m saying is, humans don’t like anything that isn’t like them.”

“So you’re saying we should give vampires a chance?”

“No. Ain’t you listening? I said we should fight them. Because, son, vampires don’t have the thing that made those Indian troops special, that made Flora gorgeous, that makes you a brave lad who’s scared, but knows he has to stand up and be counted and do the right thing.”

“What?” said David.

“Humanity.”