London Wild (46 page)

‘I’m afraid that’s a trade secret, Professor,’ February told him
. George’s yawns were getting contagious and she copied him. ‘What did the soldiers want?’

George shrugged and replied, ‘
They were looking for Kitty, wanted to take her to the
Cattery with them.’

‘Really?’ February seemed quite surprised
as she said, ‘It’s not time for them to collect overdue pets yet. I wonder if that was what they really wanted.’

‘I think so,’ George explained
. ‘You see, the Cattery isn’t big enough to cope with the constant influx of so many cats, er, excuse me, Herbaht. They seem to be dreading the last day of the grace period when they expect to be buried up to their eyebrows in new admittances. It does sort of make sense, when you think about it.’

‘Those poor creatures,’ February commented
. She seemed shocked, and she spoke with feeling. ‘The soldiers will probably have to execute most of them the second they arrive because they won’t have the room for all the new ones. If they haven’t already, they’ll probably be killing all the current inmates to make at least some room. It must be hell in there at the moment. Not that it’s exactly ever been a place I’ve wanted to go and see firsthand.’ She turned her attention to Kitty. ‘Be glad George had the foresight to put you out on the street. You at least had a chance there, and as fate would have it you met me. If you were in the Cattery you’d probably be suffering through hell right now, if they hadn’t already finished you. I guess I hadn’t thought about overcrowding. I’d just assumed that they’d made accommodation for all of the pets. I should have known better.’

‘Well,’ said George wearily, look
ing as if he might fall asleep where he stood, ‘Kitty’s room is still available if one of you wishes to use it. The other will have to make do with the couch, though, I’m afraid.’

‘I’ll use the couch,’ Kitty said quite insistently
. ‘It’s a little wet at the moment, I’m afraid, but I can use a blanket to cover the damp parts and make the most of it.’ She finally let go of George with all but one arm and turned to face February. ‘It’s the least I could do after all the kindness you’ve shown me.’

‘I’ll use the couch,’ February replied
; she too seemed adamant. ‘You’ve spent enough time on my couch. Besides, it is your room. The bed won’t seem as strange to you as it would to me. And I want to keep abreast of the news, especially the Sou’nd stuff, and the newspaper is down here.’

George nodded and yawned and then turned,
saying, ‘I really think I need to get some sleep.’ He turned back to Kitty, who released her last arm from him, and told her, ‘I wish I could be sure of your friend.’

February grinned
. ‘I’m not sure I trust you either, Professor. If it’s any consolation, I’m not too happy about being in a house filled with herd, any of whom could turn on me at any moment. We have to try to trust each other, Professor.’

‘I guess so,’ George replied tiredly
. He was too tired to think any more about it, and he left the living room. Kitty followed with one arm wrapped around his midriff. She would have to let go when he started to climb the stairs, as they wouldn’t be wide enough for them to walk up together.

‘I’d like to hear more about this Mars idea,’ February added as he was leaving
. ‘Perhaps we can discuss it more tomorrow.’

George didn’t reply. He was too tired. He made his way back to the top of the stairs with Kitty close behind. She left him with a peck on the che
ek and entered the bathroom; she would probably want to wash off her makeup and possibly dry off before she turned in for the night. ‘See you tomorrow, master,’ she whispered to him. ‘I’m glad to be back.’

‘Glad you’re back too,’ George replied
. He returned to his bed, pulled back the covers, and almost fell across it.

George spent the next hour full of mixed emotions:
fear that the wild cat would come up the stairs to get him, and thoughts that now Kitty was back, he was again complete. Then he wondered what would happen in the morning if either Stanley or Maureen were to find February asleep on the couch. Would they call the law? Would she attack them before she was fully awake? Would he be awoken by screams from downstairs? Hopefully if they did find her, she would still be disguised as human, so they’d be more interested in who she was than what she was. It was gone four o’clock before he finally got any sleep.

The Great Cat Killer

There were twenty standard
-weight tanks, the backbone of his force. These were the vehicles that would do most of the dirty work once they actually reached Sou’nd. Then there were ten lightweight scout tanks. When he was promised thirty tanks for his attack force, he had assumed that had meant thirty standard tanks, and he had been unhappy when a full third of them turned out to be little more than lightly armored scout tanks. It had seemed as if he had lost a third of his force before even starting. They might be faster and more maneuverable than the standard tank, but they didn’t have the firepower or the armor, and for this battle Charles really couldn’t see that he had much of a need for them. If there was an occasion in this battle where he might need a scout tank, then fine, supply him with one or two instead of replacing a full third of his strength with them. He had scattered them through the column so that each part of his strike force would have at least one with them. Starting with the first tank, they had been placed so that every third tank was a scout. The only exception to this was that the second scout in the column was fifth in line rather than fourth. This was because Charles had chosen the tank fourth in line as his own, and he had no intention of commanding the battle from a scout.

Behind the tanks in no real order were about fifty support vehicles:
thirty troop carriers, including ten for civilians; one dedicated to communication; five designed for holding prisoners; three meat wagons; three catering trucks, two that carried spares for the tanks; and even a tow truck in case a tank or another vehicle had to be retrieved. All of these vehicles had been armored for battle, though the thickness of their armor was nothing like that of the standard tanks.

As dawn arrived
, the weather showed no sign of relenting. Fortunately, the lightning that had appeared at somewhere around two that morning had since moved on and had shown no sign of returning.

Already the air strikes had started, softening up Sou’nd before the main convoy would get there. They would
only have time to hit the town twice, but the six aircraft involved could destroy an awful lot of the city in those two strikes. 

Captain Charles ‘Slim’ Dorris wasn’t feeling very comfortable. He had joined the
Elite Guard to guard cats in the Cattery, not to be a hero. When he joined up he hadn’t any idea that one day he was going to have to command an assault against the wild cats on what he considered their home turf. They would all be armed, and they would all be trying to kill him. It was going to be a bad day. The tactics were wrong, for a start—attacking an area before securing the one they had! No wonder he was hearing rumors that the population of London seemed to be trying to escape the trouble, regardless of the assurances that the government had been putting out. He didn’t consider himself a coward. No, a coward wouldn’t have signed up in the first place, and a coward would have found any number of excuses not to go along. Had he actually been a civilian, very few would have blamed him for having second thoughts. No, he wasn’t a coward, but neither was he willing to be cannon fodder.

He took a couple of pills to try and calm the butterflies and the constant need to visit a lavatory that seemed to be permeating his very being. He couldn’t help wondering how many of the great leaders might have felt the same way as he did before they too went into battle. Well, this was his first real battle since he had joined up. Every loss his command suffered would be his fault. If fate should see him fight more battles in the future, maybe,
God forbid, he would get used to the feelings.

The rain did nothing to change his mood either. He was getting soaked
, but he needed to be seen by the men for the purposes of morale, if nothing else. He couldn’t help thinking that had he been one of the soldiers, the last thing he’d want would be to be under the command of a civilian, even if that civilian was a hero of the populace. But the Colonel had insisted in his final good-luck call less than an hour ago.

‘
Especially the civilians
,’ the Colonel had told him, ‘
make sure you get yourself seen by the civilians. Remember, you are one of them!
’

So there he was, out in the rain inspecting the troops
, or, more accurately, because he wasn’t supposed to be a soldier. He checked in with the officers of each unit whilst making sure he was visible to them. To emphasize the effect, he would stop by one or two of the soldiers in the front ranks of each unit and ask them a few questions about themselves and whether or not they were excited to be involved in today’s battle. The range of answers weren’t all that hopeful. Many were excited to be part of a historic moment, but they were also scared. They were happy that a man as famous as the great Slim Dorris was leading them, but as he had suspected, they wished he had had some military training, and they wished they could be sure that they could trust his judgment. The advert on the newspaper had done nothing for the morale of the men. It seemed to be clear to everyone that the cats were going to be expecting them. Also, the presence of other civilians caused many to feel that friendly fire was more likely. Many of the soldiers were even worried that they would end up babysitting the civilians rather than getting involved in any real action.

The rain
is going to be a problem,
he thought as he left the last unit he had inspected. Everyone’s visual acuity was low in this weather. He could barely see what was happening a hundred feet across the green. The thought that the cats would be suffering from the same restrictions helped his mood little.

Visually at least, the tanks would be all right
, as they didn’t rely only on sight but also on a fairly complicated system of radar and a direct link to a global positioning satellite that would both tell them exactly where they were and also what might be in the way.

Six o’clock edged closer
, and though he couldn’t see the check-in desk clearly when he was near the soldiers, he knew roughly where to find it on the green and headed in that direction. If it was important that the civilians see him to increase their morale, then he’d better get on with being seen.

There were two soldiers at the check
-in desk, each sitting in fairly comfortable chairs protected from the elements by a hastily erected tarpaulin. Also with the soldiers was a man in civilian clothing who went by the name Michael McCain. He had been there since before midnight and looked it. He seemed to be propping up one of the vertical supports for the same tarpaulin, and though he was under the tarpaulin’s protection he looked like he was soaked through. A few minutes in the tank with the air conditioner would dry him off, but until then he would just have to put up with it. By contrast, the civilians had no shelter as they waited in the queue to sign up, and as a result they all looked soaked. Charles felt quite happy that the queue only seemed to have five more people in it. It looked as if the rain had helped keep the number of applications low.

The large rebuilt clock tower that housed Big Ben began to chime six o’clock as he reached the desk.
Six had been the official kickoff time, but he hadn’t really wanted to leave at that time. A soldier would’ve ensured that everything was ready so they could leave at exactly the time they were supposed to, but again he had realized that since he was supposedly a civilian, the launch time of his assault could be more flexible. The instinct had been there and he had wanted to insist the convoy be ready to leave at the prescribed time, but he had forced himself to ignore it by not even being ready himself. It was all part of pretending to be just a talented civilian. Heaven knew that after being given command of so many soldiers, he had to play up the civilian angle more to avoid people guessing his true relationship with the military.

The green near the check-in desk had gotten very muddy where people had been treading constantly since the night before. The grass had
been worn virtually to nothing, leaving large areas for the rain to turn into mud. This had been partially remedied by the placement of duckboards around the busiest areas. In effect, there was a bridge across the mud that led from check-in desk to the road and to some of the shelters that had been erected about the green. There were others that led to the refreshment tent and the portable lavatories that had been erected to deal with so many people.

Charles stopped by the check-in desk and watched what was happening for a minute. He observed the formalities that the civilians were expected to follow in order to be allowed to join up for this attack. He noticed how it was made very clear to them that they hadn’t joined up with the regular army. They had signed on only for this one battle
, and they could leave at any time without the risk of criminal charges of desertion being leveled against them. They were also asked if they had any weapons of their own. If they did, they were directed to the truck in which they would be traveling. If they didn’t, they were ordered to report to the supply truck at the rear of the convoy.