In the Shadow of London Read online

  ‘Are you ready?’

  She pouted at him. ‘If you have to ask it means I’m not. I’ll tell you when I am.’

  He shrugged. ‘Okay, then.’

  Caught in a half world between wanting her body and regarding her as an adoptive teenage daughter with a rebellious streak, David could only shake his head with amusement. Airie was becoming the embodiment of the revolution that he was striving for, a figurehead for change. Whenever they showed up at underground bars and mob meetings, Airie caught all the eyes. Part of him was jealous, and part of him was thankful. Alone, he was ignored, his words hollow; with Airie standing beside him he was the soundtrack to her movie, and together people found they made sense.

  She stood up amidst the jingle of the knives hanging from her belt in a ring around her waist. She lifted the clawboard he had helped her make, spun it in her hands and slung it by a strap over her shoulder in a single movement like a war-hungry, tube-riding assassin.

  ‘If only I had fifty of you,’ he said.

  ‘Pervert. Ain’t one enough?’

  He smiled. ‘It’ll have to do. Come on, let’s go.’

  They headed down to the street, Airie’s agility on the elevator shaft far outweighing his. She would never admit it, but she had been practicing while he was out. He knew every inch of his climb space and he had found unfamiliar scuff marks on the sides of the shaft. From the ease with which she shimmied down to the ground floor below he wondered what else she had found time to practice.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked as they headed towards the nearest tube station. Airie was already beginning to attract glances from passersby, even though an oversized black hoodie hid her armoury and disguised the clawboard strapped to her back as a hidden rucksack.

  ‘I heard about a rally being held up by the Stanmore Gate,’ David said. ‘I thought it might be worth going to see.’

  ‘A rally of who?’

  David grinned. ‘I guess we’ll find out when we get there. The guys I heard it from reckoned a mob might try to break open the gate. That would be stupid, but if there’s that much unrest it’ll be a good place to spread the word.’

  Since her first reckless tube ride, Airie had done a few more gentle practice rides on lumbering freight trains at several outlying overland stations. David had been keen to stay away from the Underground while there was the possibility he was being tracked, but he had returned as promised on Tuesday to wait for Raine. From the window of an abandoned office building overlooking the hidden station entrance he had watched for her, but the girl hadn’t showed. Only a couple of punks had gone inside, coming out a couple of hours later, one without the crude attempt at a clawboard he had carried in. David had considered following them, but it was late, and he didn’t like to leave Airie alone. As soon as he was sure Raine wasn’t coming, he abandoned his post and headed for home.

  It had been a long shot. Raine had her baby now; she had left tube riding behind. He would wait again next week and perhaps the week after that, but otherwise he would leave her alone.

  She had made her decision.

  They took the Hammersmith and City Line as far as Baker Street, then changed to the Jubilee. They got off at Canon’s Park, one stop shy of the Stanmore terminus. The crowds on the train were already swelling but David didn’t want to get too close until they knew what was going on.

  Like many areas close to the perimeter walls, Canon’s Park was in decent repair, the added security of government military patrols along the approach to the gate meaning that the quaint cul-de-sacs of semi-detached houses retained much of their polite charm. Streets were clear of trash and abandoned cars, gardens were tended, doors were alarmed rather than barricaded. David saw several nervous residents peering out from behind curtains as Airie and himself followed groups of other people in the direction of the gate.

  Few people paid them much attention. Those who did look twice reserved their gazes for Airie, and the girl pouted back in sultry defiance.

  Stanmore London Underground station—which was actually above ground—came up on their right. Less than a hundred yards behind it rose a wire fence some twenty feet high. Long ago shredded by bolt cutters, David and Airie followed the growing crowd as they stepped through the holes in the fence and out into an open patch of waste ground that stretched up to the foot of the perimeter wall.

  David had rarely been this close before, but in daylight it wasn’t so much a wall as a heap of rubble eighty metres high, held together by thousands of tons of concrete. Most of the buildings torn down in what was effectively a killing ground had gone towards its construction, as had thousands of abandoned cars. Like a sculpture made of debris, it was ragged and uneven, only the far top surface enjoying any kind of uniformity. Atop it, a long walkway was patrolled by soldiers and fitted with gun emplacements.

  The side of the wall itself was a rock climber’s wet dream, myriad handholds made up of protruding concrete blocks, steel lintels, window frames and car parts. If it weren’t for the soldiers and the guns, most of London would have climbed out by now.

  A large crowd was assembling up ahead in a natural bowl sloping down towards the gate, a steel structure some thirty feet high. At the base of the perimeter wall, just in front of the gate, a ring of military vehicles surrounded a temporary stage. Large spotlights hung above it, and a wall of amplifiers stood in one corner.

  ‘What are they doing?’ Airie said, leaning close to whisper into David’s ear.

  As a horn began to sound, David squeezed her hand. ‘I think we might be about to find out,’ he said. ‘Stay close to me, and if I say run, don’t even waste time answering me. Get as far away as possible.’

  Someone was climbing up onto the stage. It was difficult to tell if it was a man or a woman under the hooded robe. A soldier climbed up behind the figure and hurried forward with a microphone on a stand.

  The figure pushed back its hood, bringing a gasp from the closest section of the crowd. From the length of the hair David was sure it was a woman, but half of her face was covered with a metal mask.

  ‘The Governor himself has sent me here to issue you with an ultimatum,’ the woman started, without so much as an introduction. ‘You will accept it, or you and your families will be brought to justice.’

  Boos rang out from the crowd. Several people screamed obscenities.

  ‘The Governor is a kinder man than you deserve,’ the woman said. ‘It was my personal advice that the streets be swept clean in order that the city could start again.’

  Airie glanced at David. They both knew what she meant. Insults began to rain down on her again, halting only when she lifted a gloved hand and pointed behind her at the gates.

  ‘Open them.’

  David frowned. The woman was risking a stampede, but as the gates began to swing open, a line of soldiers walked across in front of them, guns trained on the crowd. The first few dozen would be cut down. David doubted there were many at the front willing to take the risk.

  ‘Is it safe to open the gates?’ Airie said. ‘I heard the people out there are crazy, that’s why they build the walls.’

  David shushed her. ‘We’re in no danger from what’s out there,’ he said.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I’ve seen pictures.’

  Airie shrugged. ‘So have I. You know you can’t trust pictures.’

  The crowd had grown louder as the opening gates revealed a thin stretch of brown dirt road leading towards a stand of forest. It really was like a picture book, just as David had imagined it. There was no sign of any of Airie’s crazies, and as the shifting gates came to a stop, David felt an overwhelming urge to run for that glimmer of freedom and not look back.

  ‘You can leave,’ the woman on the stage said. ‘An easy future outside of the walls is waiting for you anytime. All I want in return is one small thing.’

  The crowd began to jeer.

  ‘Cooperation.’ The crowd went quiet as the woman lifted her hands over her head. �
�Six months ago, a group of people just like you stole secrets from the government that has left the threat of war hanging over our heads. The European Confederation is threatening air strikes against London. They have no care for liberation, only destruction. We have kept you safe for this long, but we are running out of time. Do you wish to watch your families die?’

  Airie gave David an uneasy glance as several people shouted out that their families were already dead.

  ‘All I ask is for information on these runaways and anyone who might be harbouring them or know their whereabouts. You will be richly rewarded with a new life, and they will be punished like the criminals they are. We have already caught two of them.’

  ‘No….’

  Airie looked up at David. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Those boys. It can’t be.’

  Guards in black uniforms were leading two teenagers onto the stage. Their hands were bound, their heads hung in defeat. Even from here he could see they were the same two he had met in a smoky bar a couple of weeks back, regaling them with tales of the Tube Riders and adventure.

  Something in his heart clicked as a tall, robed figure climbed up on to the stage carrying a rope.

  He turned to Airie. ‘Leave. Go now. Forget you ever met me.’

  ‘What are you talking about? David?’

  He began to push through the crowd. Up on the stage, the towering robed figure wound the rope around the teenagers’ necks and pushed them to their knees.

  ‘Admit to the crowd what you are,’ the woman said, holding the microphone to the nearest teenager’s face.

  His sobbing brought cries of mercy from the crowd. ‘We … we … wanted to be Tube Riders,’ he said. ‘We didn’t know they were criminals. We just thought they were cool. Please … please let us go.’

  The woman turned back to the crowd. ‘The Tube Riders have brought the threat of war into London’s shadow. The Tube Riders must be brought to justice.’ She looked down at the boys again. ‘Your crime cannot go unpunished. London is a free city, and your crime threatened that. Kill them.’

  The crowd wailed as the hooded figure began to pull on the rope, choking the two teenagers. People began to surge forward, but the soldiers closed ranks, their guns leveled. David heard Airie shouting his name, but it was too late. He couldn’t let these kids die because of what he had done. This wasn’t their fight, and if he had to die in their place, so be it.

  ‘Wait!’ he screamed. ‘You want information about Tube Riders, I have it!’

  As though he were a leper, the crowd parted around him. He pulled the board out of his bag and held it up. The woman on the stage turned towards him, lifting a hand to stay the execution.

  ‘Let him come,’ she said. Up close, her face was uglier than David could have imagined, a composite of scar tissue and metal like a human spat out of a machine. Hate blazed from a single human eye as he walked towards her.

  His heart was hammering, his hands shaking. It was all he could do to hold her gaze. His voice was barely more than a croak as he said, ‘Let them go. You want information, I have it. Let them go first.’

  The woman smiled. ‘You do not bargain with me.’ Something in her face had changed at the sight of the clawboard. ‘You want to live, give me a name.’

  Without hesitation David said, ‘Marta Banks.’

  The woman froze. ‘Marta … Banks. You know her?’

  David nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where is she?’ The woman took a step forward, and now her face was filled with rage. ‘Tell me where she is!’

  ‘Here!’ came Airie’s voice from off to the left. With a muffled explosion, the stage erupted in flames. The tall figure let go of the rope holding the two teenagers and fell in front of the woman, shielding her, pulling her backwards off the stage. Another loud crack sounded and the wall of amplifiers blew out in a shower of sparks.

  The crowd surged forward as the guards began to open fire. Arms pulled the two teenagers down into the crowd, but then the mass of people swelled around David and they were lost from sight.

  A thin arm grabbed hold of his wrist, dragging him backwards. Airie’s voice screamed ‘Come on!’ Then the crowd was thinning as heavier gunfire sent people scattering in all directions.

  Back the way they had come, another line of black-clad soldiers guarded the road to the station, but their rank was faltering at the approach of the large crowd. Before the crowd was within a stone’s throw several cut and ran. Others let off a few token shots, then the line collapsed as the remaining guards fled or were pulled down by the front runners of the crowd.

  ‘This way,’ Airie said, leading him right, away from the station entrance, back towards Canons Park but by a different route. ‘We need to head for another line. The Hammersmith is too dangerous.’

  David didn’t bother to ask how she knew where they were going, he just followed dumbly, in one instant wondering where she had got the firebombs, and in another feeling both the lightness of his continued life and the heavy pendant of guilt for the death of many others.

  ‘There!’ At last Airie pointed towards an Underground sign on the edge of an empty car park. They had been running with only occasional pauses to catch their breath for almost half an hour. David’s lungs were heaving, desperate for air, his throat parched and dry.

  Airie led them across a road crossing and up onto the tracks at the end of the platform, bypassing the ticket gates. A train was just arriving, and they climbed onboard before they were noticed, sitting together in a corner as the train pulled away again. Further down the carriage, the grim faces of a handful of commuters avoided them. It was like the riot had never happened.

  David could think of nothing useful to say, but Airie was beaming. ‘Did you see that?’ she hissed into his ear, her breath tickling his skin. ‘Did you see the way the crowd reacted? They wanted to fight. You were right.’

  ‘Many people died today, innocent people, when the one who deserved it is sitting here on a fucking train. It should have been me up there, Airie. Not those kids. I haven’t thought this through. It didn’t become real until I saw them up there.’

  A hard slap brought stars to his eyes. ‘Shut up,’ Airie said. ‘They woke up. They woke up when you faced up to her. They want to fight. They want to fight for Marta Banks, whoever she is.’

  ‘They don’t have her. She’s gone.’

  Airie gave a mischievous grin. ‘Not that they know. Do you think I fooled them? No one knows what she looks like, do they?’

  David gave a slow smile, although he felt anything but happy. Airie was right, though. If the name of Marta Banks was becoming synonymous with rebellion, then the people needed Marta Banks to lead them.

  ‘Marta herself would have been proud of what you did,’ David said. ‘Where the fuck did you get those bombs?’

  ‘Made them. Couple of glass bottles and some paraffin out of your stove. Easy. Always liked blowing shit up. Wasn’t expecting to use them, but some guy in front of me was smoking so I borrowed his cig to light my fuses.’

  ‘You’re a genius.’

  Airie leaned across and pecked him on the cheek. ‘Thanks. What do we do now?’

  David shrugged. ‘Hide.’

  ‘She was one ugly bitch, wasn’t she? Did you get a good look at her? Who was she?’

  David shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but when I mentioned Marta’s name, I saw something in her face that might help us.’

  ‘What?’

  David turned to look at her.

  ‘Fear.’

  19

  Bait

  David was late on the rent. Taku pushed back the curtain and peered out at the street below, but there was no sign of the heavies that were due anytime. He went into his room and counted over again what money he had. It wasn’t enough to cover them both, but it was something. They had let him carry over before, but David had been gone for three days, and if he didn’t come back….

  It was that girl’s fault. David had holed her up somewhere
and was sneaking off for a bit of jailbait pussy. Taku didn’t blame him; the girl was a decent piece of ass and no doubt was pretty practiced in keeping a man happy. He wouldn’t say no to a piece of it himself, but David hadn’t offered. They shared most things, but the girl, it seemed, was exclusive.

  ‘Where the hell are you?’ Taku muttered under his breath, just as a knock came on the door.

  He froze. He could pretend to be out, but they would likely break down the door to check, and how it got fixed was Taku’s problem. He snatched up his tin of money and headed for the door.

  ‘Look, we need to talk,’ he started, as he pulled open the door. ‘I’ve had a bit of a problem getting the cash this month. My mate, he’s been sick, you know?’

  A woman was standing in the hall, watching him. She should have been attractive, with a classic high-cheekboned face, a cute button nose and full lips, but there was something about her that wasn’t natural. She wore a long brown cloak that Taku barely noticed as he started into eyes that weren’t quite human.

  ‘His name is Tube Rider,’ she said. ‘Is he where? I need his speak. Now.’

  She had to mean David. Despite her jumbled words, Taku found himself nodding. ‘He’s out. Do you want to wait? I have, like, cold water.’

  A hand snaked out, pinning him to the wall. ‘Tube Rider is where?’

  Taku tried to cough, but it came out as a wheeze. The girl’s grip was like a metal pincer. Faced with such strength, Taku could only flap his hands uselessly at his sides.

  ‘He went … out. He’s got … a girl.’

  ‘Address is tell me.’