London Wild (44 page)

The voices seemed to vanish
, and George let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Then he heard footsteps; were they leaving? They sounded as if they were getting closer, but with all the other noise going on out there, it was probably just his imagination. It had to be his imagination. How could he hear footsteps with all that hissing on his security screen, the thunder outside, and the constant pitter patter on the rooftop of the house? Perhaps the voices he’d heard had been only in his imagination—a dream, maybe.

Suddenly the unmistakable sound of his front door opening forced him to sit up. It wasn’t his imagination. It was loud enough. It
might even have woken his brother and Maureen from their respective slumbers, were they asleep. Someone had opened the front door, and not by smashing the door down as he’d always imagined a would-be assailant would try and do. No, the security code had been entered, or at the very least over-ridden somehow.

George could make out two distinct feminine voices
. There were at least two of them, but from the sound of it they weren’t coming up the stairs but were headed instead towards the living room of the house. If they were cats, wouldn’t they be more interested in the human occupants of the house? Perhaps they were just burglars after all. Some of London’s residents were already leaving the Capital for fear of possible cat reprisals for the coming attack on Sou’nd. A couple of fearless burglars might well move from house to house, cleaning up everything they could that had been left behind. But surely the parked cars in the driveway would lend evidence to the fact that people were still here.

Could there really be female burglars? Well
, why not?
He thought to himself.
After all, female cats made the best hunters
.

Whatever their motives
for breaking into the house, he really couldn’t lie there doing nothing about it. He couldn’t wait for them to decide to come and find him if they were cats or walk off with all his property if they were just burglars. He’d rather they were burglars; they might at least let him alone, whereas when the cats were finished with what they wanted downstairs, they would be looking to take him, Stanley, and Maureen with them.

He climbed out of bed slowly
, trying to make no noise. He hadn’t heard anything from down the stairs for a while, either, and this made him nervous. The intruders hadn’t exactly been quiet coming in, but now there was nothing, and he realized that this meant he had no idea where in the house they might be. Even at this moment they could be standing on the other side of his bedroom door, planning on rushing in and taking him by surprise.

He put his slippers on as quietly as he could and looked around the room
, trying to see if anything could be used as an improvised weapon and wishing he had some sort of gun in the house. Though he would probably have kept such a thing in the living room, and that was where he was sure he had last heard them.

He opened the bedroom door quicker than he had wanted to because for some reason it insisted on squeaking when it was opened or closed too slowly. The little amount of noise it still made caused him to shudder as a chill ran along his spine. Cats
had good hearing; they could’ve heard that.

The house was silent as he stepped out onto the top landing. Maybe he had imagined it after all. From here he could see the front door of the house
, and it looked firmly closed. Of course, cats or burglars might close the door after them to prevent unwanted attention from anyone who might just happen to be passing by, but somehow George imagined that they would want to keep the door at least partially ajar for an easy escape.

Then the silence ended, and again voices could be heard
, still from the direction of the living room. This time, though, the voices didn’t sound female. Could there be more than two trespassers in his house? He listened to it for a minute, trying to make out what they were saying: ‘…less than four hours. Despite the weather, a large number of civilians are already gathering at the checking desk and are waiting to be processed for their right to join in the attack….’ It was the newspaper. One of the intruders had turned on the newspaper and was watching it! Obviously, whoever the intruders were, they weren’t worried that the house might still be occupied. Although, upon reflection, George realized that they seemed to have turned the volume down. Why would anyone break into a house just to turn on the newspaper?

It had to be his brother or his brother’s wife. Who else would turn on the newspaper in the middle of the night and
watch it? Obviously they had turned the volume down with the assumption that George was asleep, not wanting to disturb him. No, that was wishful thinking; he had definitely heard the front door being opened. Though it might be possible that Stanley or Maureen may have wanted to make a quick trip to their car, it was very unlikely at this time of night. Besides, his brother didn’t know the code to open the door, nor did he have a feminine voice.

A cat might well break into a house and watch the newspaper
, though the idea that he or she might also turn down the volume so as not to disturb or alert the human residents of the house somehow didn’t add up. Somehow George couldn’t equate that sort of thing with cats or burglars. After all, why risk alerting the household residents in the first place by turning it on? Couldn’t whatever they were interested in wait until they got home? News stories tended to stay available at least forty-eight hours after first being broadcast, and even older stories could often be found with a little searching, simply by accessing the archives.

He moved to the door separating the landing from the spare room in which his brother and Maureen had been installed and listened at the door. He could hear a steady masculine snore coming from beyond. Well, at least the noise of the intruders hadn’t disturbed him. Perhaps it was Maureen downstairs
. He couldn’t hear her through the door, but then Stanley was snoring loudly enough to drown her out. George toyed with the idea of waking his brother before getting any closer to the living room. He rejected the idea. It would mean opening another squeaky door.

Part of him wanted just to go back to bed and forget about it until the morning
; it might sort itself out by then. He would also be able to think more clearly then, and he’d much rather face the unknown in the daylight. But something was still nagging at him: the fact that he had heard two voices, both feminine, and he was pretty sure neither had been the newspaper at the time. He knew if he just went back to bed, that would dwell in his mind and he’d never get to sleep, especially as there would be the overwhelming fear that he might never wake up again. He would have to go and confront them, whoever they were. If only he had a weapon of some sort. Perhaps he should wake Stanley, after all, let him know what was happening.

George didn’t enter Stanley
’s and Maureen’s room. Instead he knocked fairly loudly on the plastic door and waited for a moment. There was no answer, and Stanley’s snores seemed to be as loud as ever. For a moment he considered knocking again, but changed his mind. His brother was obviously very tired and was probably drowning out the knocks, and if Maureen could sleep through that racket then it was unlikely she was going to wake up and answer the door either. 

He would have to venture on alone. He descended the stairs slowly; his instincts were warning him to be very sure
of who was watching the newspaper before he made his presence known. Maybe it was Maureen, but somehow he doubted it. Every time a stair creaked, even just slightly, he froze in terror and waited a minute or more, half expecting a cat to emerge from the living room and pounce on him.

He began to feel that what he was doing was both silly and dangerous. He should leave them alone and hope they
left without hurting anyone. But he had to know what was happening; he just knew he would never get any sleep that night if this mystery went unsolved.

At the bottom of the stairs he could see
that the living room door was open, though whoever was in there was out of his line of sight. The newspaper was still fairly quiet, and he had to strain to hear what was being said. It seemed to still be talking about the planned attack on Sou’nd tomorrow. The report seemed to be a live feed; it would probably go on all day, or at least until the convoy hit Sou’nd itself tomorrow.

George listened to it as he got steadily closer
: ‘…Have arrived. They mark the first of the vehicles that Slim will be using in today’s battle.’ There was a short pause, and then it continued, ‘A large number of people seem to be reacting to this attack on Sou’nd as if the attack was actually going to be taking place in London itself. Many people seem to be leaving the capital to get away from what they perceive as the danger zone. To anyone who has been planning to follow them, we wish to assure you that this battle will not overflow into the streets of London, and you will be as safe here as you were last week. If, by any chance, some cats do escape from the confines of Sou’nd and head towards the city, they will be intercepted and destroyed. Slim is receiving full co-operation from…’

‘Well, they would say that
.’ He heard a woman’s voice blotting out the newspaper. ‘What network is this?’

‘Triple N,’ came the quick reply
. There was something vaguely familiar about this second voice.

‘That sounds about right, the government’s favorite network
,’ the first voice commented. ‘Didn’t my brother say that they already had a way out of Sou’nd?’

‘Did he?’ the familiar voice replied
. ‘I couldn’t really say. I wasn’t in the room when you made the call.’

There were definitely two women in the room. He was pretty sure now that it was only two
, though. Nevertheless, if they were cats, then things were likely to get quite uncomfortable. He should return up the stairs and leave them alone and hope that they left him alone, but he had to know more. He had to see them. Besides, George had a feeling that he had recognized the second voice. Perhaps he had just been imagining it, but it had sounded very like Kitty’s voice. If that was the case, then who was she with? Why would she have come back? No, no, he had spent too long worrying about her, too long wishing he had done things differently on the night he let her go. It couldn’t be Kitty; chances were that Kitty was dead. No, Kitty was alive. He wouldn’t let Kitty be dead, never. But even though he refused to accept that she might be dead, he was sure she wouldn’t come back here.

He moved to the door and peered round
, hoping that neither would be looking at the door at that moment. There were two women in the room; one, a slim girl with ginger hair, a long baggy blue skirt—the sort of skirt that might easily hide a tail—and a T-shirt to match, was sitting on one of the stools by the bar. She hadn’t been looking straight at him when he peered round the door, but she had smiled at just that moment, and he was sure she had seen him. She was soaked through. Not that that was too surprising, considering the weather, but the presence of the very wet-looking thick body-length coat at her feet gave some indication as to how penetrating the rain was. A wide-brimmed blue hat with a pink flower display was sitting on the counter beside where she sat; she had obviously been wearing this to keep her hair dry.

The second sat on the couch
, and other than her dark black hair visible above the couch’s backrest, he couldn’t really see too much of her. There was no sign of a coat belonging to this second figure anywhere nearby. The thought occurred to him that if she was as damp as the other girl appeared to be, then his couch was probably getting soaked. He shook the thought from his mind. His very life could be in danger, and he was worrying about his couch!

George steeled himself to glance into the room again. What else might he glean from them? Maybe he should just call the police to come and deal with them
, but something nagged at him not to.

He glanced into the room again
, and the one with the ginger hair and the too-baggy blue skirt was looking straight at him. She was smiling at him and holding something in her hand, though at least that didn’t seem to be aimed at him.

She beckoned to him with her free hand and then seemed to ignore him for a moment as she looked towards the other girl and the newspaper.

The newspaper quietly reported, ‘The weather doesn’t look as if it’ll be clearing up for a few days, so Slim is going to have a very wet battle tomorrow. That doesn’t seem to have dampened the spirits of the hundreds that have already arrived, all wanting to do their bit for mankind. Although officially they aren’t supposed to be signed on until five, they have apparently already started processing the requests. They claim their intention is to keep the queue from getting too long and causing the attack to be delayed. Those who are already signed on can seek shelter under one of the many tarpaulins that have been set up about the green for this purpose.’

George stepped carefully into the room
. He hadn’t been asked to raise his hands, but he was unsure if that was just an oversight on the part of the woman who had beckoned him in. In an attempt to avoid any misunderstanding, he kept his hands to his sides, but with the palms open and facing the one who had spoken to show he wasn’t armed in any way whatsoever.

‘Come on in, Professor,’ the girl that had beckoned to him said
. ‘We aren’t going to eat you. We aren’t even armed.’ She showed him her open hands. The item she had been holding was merely the remote for the newspaper.