Chapter 13 as it appeared
Part 2: In the Dark of the Night
Authors: Gabby, PCat
Acknowledgment: Based on an idea by Ian, Extra input from BD, Kulko and Tarrok
Malton +60
"Gabby, we have to move," Cat urged. She broke free of his grip and looked into a shop. "There's stairs. Put a brick through the window."
"Why can't you do it?" Gabby protested, hefting a brick in his hand all the same. "Won't this make them follow us?"
"People are breaking windows all over the place. This one won't stand out." As if to emphasise her point, a window shattered across the square. Gabby shrugged and tossed the brick into the plate glass. It bounced back.
"Fuck!"
He grabbed a dustbin and swung it at the window. This time, it broke inwards, sending shards of glass tumbling over shelves of shoes. Gabby dragged Cat through the rows before she could get entranced by any of the advertised `hand-crafted italian pumps'.
"Get down!" she hissed. The police were marching past the windows, truncheons held out by their riot shields. Gabby could see the automatic weaponry slung across their backs. Cat tugged him to the ground by his sleeve.
"We can't stay here," he murmured, nodding towards a door behind the counter. "You go first, leg it." Cat sprinted across the shop-floor, keeping hunched low and almost losing her balance because of her strange posture. She ducked into the door and held it open, waving at Gabby to join her. Checking the window nervously, he followed, his heart pounding. A staircase led up into the shopowner's apartment, which was thankfully empty. They hurried through, noting the disrepair - there wasn't much of a market for shoes these days. From the back window, they could almost see their block of flats. Unfortunately, a police van had parked in the alley that they would have taken to get home.
"Rooftops it is," Gabby sighed, heaving open a window and hoping there weren't any pigeons about.
Thirty minutes, innumerable jumps and at least one near fall later they were back in the flat.
"I'm sure free-running used to be easier," gasped Gabby.
"People left a lot of ladders and planks around. On the other hand we weren't immortal then."
"I may be immortal but a thirty foot drop is still going to hurt," squeaked Gabby.
"Good job we didn't fall then." Cat sighed.
"Oh well! home now."
"There'll be a curfew in place this time tomorrow," said Cat glumly.
"Honey!" cried Bryn.
BD couldn't help but smile. She looked perfect, just as she had sixty years ago in Malton. He put one hand up against the security glass.
"How are you keeping?" he asked.
"I'm doing fine," she drawled. "Goin' stir crazy in here while the quacks get on with all their tests. But I never felt better." She stretched up and grinned and then twisted her hips back and forth.
"You gonna get visiting rights?" she asked.
"Don't think so," BD had to admit. "This is a one off. I wanted to check you were OK."
"Aww, hon!" Bryn stepped up to the glass and pressed her hand against where his lay. She leaned her forehead against the glass. "It won't be long now, lover. You've waited all this time. A few more weeks while they check zombies ain't gonna spring up in my footsteps every time I go out. Then we'll be together again."
"Yeah!" said BD, fighting down the lump in his throat. He forced himself to remember the deal. They weren't to discuss politics, or current events, or Ian. He wondered if he could slip her a warning about letting Simon use her for publicity. "You are OK though? aren't you? They're not doing anything..." BD tailed away, unsure exactly what he was afraid of.
She shook her head. "I'm amazed I've any blood left, the number of tests they've done. But there's nothing to worry about, no drugs, no surgery, nothing. I'm fine. You'll see."
"Love you babe!" whispered BD.
"Love you too!'
BD sighed and nodded at the guard to let him out of the observation room. Simon was waiting for him in the corridor. BD glowered at him as he let himself be cuffed once more and led away.
"Come on Cat. It'll be fun," Gabby urged.
Cat made a face. "You, me, samba dancing? Do you even know how, because I don't."
"Hey, I'm Brazilian. It's our national dance! Of course I know how." He glanced at her face again. "OK, I had a girlfriend who was into latin dance once and she dragged me along, but it was fun, honest! I'll teach you the basic steps now. Then you'll know them."
Cat shook her head. "Bad idea, you'll just hit on me." She looked a little defeated.
"Hey! Cat! This is me!"
Cat raised her eyebrows.
"Seriously, you made the rules. No hitting on you in your own flat. How long have I been living here now?"
"About a year."
"And have I hit on you once, since I've been here. Tell me, have I?"
He saw Cat thinking and he prayed he was right that he hadn't broken the rules.
"OK," she conceded. "You haven't, not in here."
"So, what are you afraid of, come here. You'll enjoy it." Gabby held out his arms.
Cat still looked doubtful but she got up and let him take hold of her hands. He decided to stick with a two hand hold, just to be absolutely on the safe side.
"See, plenty of space between us," he pointed out. "You need to step back, I think, with your left foot." He nudged her left foot with his right.
The next five minutes were a bit confused. Teaching the samba was a lot harder than Gabby had thought it would be. Cat had to do everything backwards and apparently telling her to "just turn a bit" was insufficient information.
"Maybe I should be the man and you can be the woman," she suggested about the fifth time he got his lefts and rights and forwards and backwards in a muddle.
"Quiet woman, I'll just get even more confused that way."
But she had smiled and carried on. After about twenty minutes when they'd successfully negotiated the samba walk, voltas and a Botofogos turn he called it a halt and she was grinning widely and looking pleased with herself.
"That was fun," she said.
"You see. Sometimes dancing can be just dancing." Gabby was pleased. Cat didn't grin or look pleased with herself nearly often enough.
Malton +61
"What in God's name..." Gabby tugged Cat's sleeve and pointed at the mediascreen.
"Christ, he actually built it."
Simon was on TV, his first live appearance in some time. He was climbing up the stairs onto a monstrous contraption. Gabby could only describe it as a flying aircraft carrier, or about five welded together and then made sleek and sexy.
"I want one."
"Gabby, this isn't good. He's transferring operations to them. And I'm pretty sure that won't be officially part of any country. He's got his own flying fortress, he's above any laws, and look - it's brimming with weapons."
"The Imperial Palace will create two thousand jobs for loyal Imperial citizens, and it will have a full regiment of Imperial soldiers on board," commented the newsreader.
"Fuck! I bet it's got nukes too," Gabby sighed.
Tarrok sat on the bonnet of the armoured car and waited for the demonstrators to arrive. Lieutenant Konev, his aide, stood on the tarmac in front of him. The troops were strung out in a line across Pennsylvania Avenue blocking the route to the White House.
Ian walked at the head of the crowd, clearly visible.
"We have an order from the President via the military council, Sir," said a nervous looking comms officer. "We're to open fire. Live ammunition."
"Belay that order," said Tarrok. "Everyone hold steady." He'd discussed this in a private conversation with General Utumbe the night before. They'd agreed there would be no killings, beyond that Tarrok was to play it by ear. She'd protect his back as much as possible. The military council might have issued that order but General Utumbe sure as hell hadn't authorised it. Tarrok wondered what nasty piece of politics might be playing out right now. It was possible he was on his own here. It was possible he had no political back up left. It was decision time.
The crowd of demonstrators moved to stand before the line of tanks. General Tarrok climbed off the armoured car and walked forward. Ian stepped out of the line and walked forward too.
They met in clear ground, 50 yards separated them from anyone else.
"By the orders of the global government, I'm here to turn back and break up this demonstration," said Tarrok. His words were amplified by the comms and played to the crowd.
"The global government has no legitimacy. The emergency powers were never intended to last for years on end. This is a peaceful demonstration demanding a return to an elective system. We will continue and your men will have to shoot us if they wish us to turn back."
Tarrok said nothing, looking Ian in the eye. Then he nodded ever so slightly and prayed that this was the right moment to make the move. Ian stepped forward and the crowd of marchers behind him took a pace as well. Tarrok remained still. Ian stepped forward again and the crowd moved once more.
"Steady," Tarrok murmured into his comms, switching to the army only frequency. "No one open fire."
Step by step the march moved on. When the front line reached him they parted around him like a sea.
"No one is to open fire," ordered Tarrok. "Beyond that each soldier may act according to his conscience."
Tarrok turned around and began to walk with the marchers on either side of him. The front rank of marchers were beginning to walk between the army vehicles. He could see some of the soldiers climbing down from their tanks and cars. Others had managed to turn their vehicles round and had started to drive them along slowly next to the crowd. People started to cheer. Some were climbing up on top of the abandoned vehicles and waving banners and flags.
"Sir! We can clear a space for your men to march."
Tarrok looked to see a fresh faced young man next to him, xand with a shock recognised `Deadly', who he had not seen in fifty years. Deadly was wearing a marshall's tunic.
"Thank you. That would be appreciated."
Deadly began to give instructions and a gap opened in the crowd either side of Tarrok - enough for about five men to walk abreast. To his surprise the regimental colours suddenly appeared behind him, held aloft by a young man with altogether too much hair. Tarrok smiled. Ian could be a subtle devil at times and had clearly anticipated Tarrok's move.
"Any soldiers who wish to, may form a rank with me." General Tarrok announced over the comms. "Form up on the colours."
Gradually more and more of his men made their way through the crowds. Standing shoulder to shoulder they marched upon the White House.
"In breaking news the Emperor Simon Brankin announced that Ian Carlyle has been exonerated of all charges. A thorough review is taking place on the status of all DHPD and associated prisoners and it is expected that there will be several releases in the next few days"
"Mrs Brankin?"
Cat stared at the phone. "Who is this?"
"Mrs Brankin, this is Signor Guinchiglia, your downstairs neighbour."
"I'm not Mrs Brankin."
"Mrs Brankin, I think you should know I just saw members of the security services entering the stairwell."
Cat boggled silently. "Thanks! I should go."
"Yes Mrs Brankin."
Cat shut down the phone. "Gabs! Gabs! Get your emergency pack we have to go."
She reached over to the media centre and hit Hali's `nuclear option' praying it would trash all their data before the security services thought to shut the machine down.
"Fuck! How did they find us."
"I don't know! They're in the stairwell." Cat hurried out onto the balcony and glanced down carefully. "Shit! In the back yard too."
"No problem! I have it covered." Gabby emerged swinging a grappling iron and rope.
"You have to be kidding me!"
"Worked in Malton." He eyed the building opposite carefully and then cast the rope.
"What now?" asked Cat, as the hook caught and held.
"We swing across."
"You watched too much Star Wars as a child."
There was the sound of banging on their door. "Open up!" someone shouted.
"You want to stay?"
Cat grabbed hold of Gabby's waist. "Good Luck!" she said.
"It's at this point Leia kisses Luke."
"She's his sister. Let's skip that bit OK?"
Gabby sighed. Pulled on the rope, and then jumped. The building opposite them approached at a rapid pace. Then they slammed into a balcony. Somehow Cat managed to wrap an arm around the railings, holding them fast. Gabby dropped the rope and scrambled up.
"Ow!" Cat complained.
"It worked didn't it. Come on! Let's get out of here. Hopefully they won't have found the bike!"
About three miles out of town Gabby stopped the motorcycle. "What happened to all those rumours of pardons and releases and shit?"
"You're still going to be wanted Gabby, for blowing up Beijing and kidnapping me. The pardons are really only going to cover the suggestions of DHPD involvement in the Three Gorges events. I'm afraid we're still very much on the run."
Gabby shrugged. "Where to next?"
"Greece," said Cat over his shoulder.
"Greece?"
"There's a bar in Athens which sometimes sent people on to us."
"I got fed up working as a waiter in Austria."
"They run an open mic once a week. You could do that too."
"You keep saying the music will give me away."
"Play some of those love ballads you've been writing. No one associates that kind of thing with The Bad Apple."
"Oh! You noticed I'd been writing love ballads."
"Yes, I noticed. Don't get your hopes up though." Cat rested her chin on his shoulder. "So, are we going to Greece or not?"
"I still can't believe Simon has actually let us go!" Vicky reached out her arms and did a slow spin.
"Better believe it love." Sam grabbed her and pulled her into a kiss. "Boy! have I missed that!" he muttered.
"Oi! You two! Cut it down." Danny grinned. "Let's go find a bar. Have a party somewhere."
"I've booked a room." It was Ian, walking towards them across the car park. "And organised some accommodation."
"Ian!" BD pumped his hand. "Never thought you'd swing all those pardons."
Ian smiled sadly. "Didn't get everyone pardoned. But I don't think there are any DHPD personnel left in jail after today. That's something."
"And you can campaign openly as well." Vicky hugged him. "That's going to be worth a lot."
Ian grinned. "Come on you lot. Get in the bus and I'll get you all to our temporary HQ."
The gaggle of DHPD members began climbing on board but BD's eye was suddenly caught by a flash of auburn hair and a woman climbing out of a rickshaw.
"Bryn!" he breathed and began heading towards her, hardly hearing the babble of voices behind.
They met halfway. Bryn put her arms round him and he was running his hands through her hair. "Oh! honey! Why did you turn yourself in?" she asked.
"Had to check you were OK."
He kissed her, amazed at the sensation of holding her, warm and alive again, after all these years. "You daft lump," she whispered. "Of course I was OK."
Malton +62
"You didn't have to come along babe," muttered BD as he wrestled with the lock.
"And leave you to Break and Enter all on your lonesome, I don't think so."
"I'm not entering," said BD with dignity as the lock finally gave way. "I'm just breaking."
Bryn shook her head, auburn hair swaying from side to side. "Whatever, I don't want you ending up in jail again."
BD kissed her. "Hey! I'm an experienced revolutionary. No way would they have caught me if I hadn't turned myself in. You still shouldn't have come though. You don't have a record."
"I was mothballed for 60 years," said Bryn kissing him back. "I feel I'm entitled to a little action." She looked at the busted lock on the Senator's Office building door. "What now?" she asked.
"Open the door. That should trip the alarms."
Bryn raised her eyebrows and reached out to gently push the door. It swung open. Alarms went off. "What now?" she asked, still standing in the circle of BD's arms.
"Run and hide."
Laughing they headed down the back alley, tipping over trashcans to make their hurried escape nice and obvious.
"You know," said Bryn, once they were safely hidden. "I'm sorry I missed most of the action. It reminds me of when we met."
BD nuzzled at her neck. "Well I'm sure I can think of some other ways to remind you."
"The question remains. What was the revolutionary interest in Senator Hitchins Office? What evidence can they have been expecting to find among his files? In this documentary top investigative journalist Miho Takemura reveals the connections that lead from the US Senator, to the Far Right parties of Northern Europe and from them to Beijing and the Global President himself."
"I'm amazed that a simple failed break-in could cause this much trouble for Simon," mused Joe Scalia for the umpteenth time.
BD, curled up on a sofa in one corner of the campaign office, with Bryn in his lap, couldn't help laughing. "Ian's a clever bastard sometimes, and no mistake."
Ian looked up at the media report casually and then back down again. "I can assure you all I had nothing to do with it. Miho Takemura wouldn't touch me with a barge pole. I believe she called me a self-satisfied right-wing fossil, last time we met."
"Admit it," said Bryn. "That's why you like her so much."
"I admire the integrity of her work."
Joe wolf-whistled. Ian fixed him with a cold eye. "I hope I can, at least, admire professionalism without people's minds instantly assuming an ulterior motive."
The party had started spontaneously about an hour after the announcement. Before that it had been a demonstration. Hundreds of people standing silently in the Acropolis, and in squares and landmarks around the world. All in all hundreds of thousands of people had turned out to stand in silence and request elections and, at four o'clock in the afternoon Beijing Time, elections had been announced. That had been 11am in Greece. As one of the organisers read out the proclamation, a huge cheer had rung out.
Cat had been standing next to Gabby in the square and she'd flung her arms around him and jumped up and down. At first there had just been cheering and discussion but gradually people had drifted into the bars and by mid-day crowds of revellers were surging through the city. Gabby had lost track of Cat in the middle of the afternoon. She'd pecked him lightly on the cheek in some bar or other and said she was heading home. "Things to do," she had murmured which Gabby assumed meant trying to contact BD and shout excitedly at him over the phone.
Gabby had been more interested in Jessica, dark haired, dark eyed voluptuous Jessica, who had so far stuck with him through three bars and several street parties. Her delightful curves were pressed up close to him now, as they drank yet more retsina and picked at black market olives. Gabby assumed they were black market anyway, no one had asked to see his ration card all afternoon. It was lumbering towards midnight now and Gabby was beginning to think it was time he took Jessica somewhere and finished off the celebrations in style. He'd had a quiet rifle through her handbag to check her identity documents and was reassured that she really was over the age of twenty.
They were close to the flat but Cat would be there which always seemed to put a damper on this kind of thing. Gabby nuzzled Jessica's ear, through the tumbling dark curls and murmured. "Is your place near here?"
"Not far." She smiled at him and Gabby marvelled, a little drunkenly, at how beautiful and soft and wonderful she was. Definitely a good person to wake up next to on the first day of the new world order.
Malton +63
"Gabby, stick this in the 'mental' tray, will you?" Cat asked sweetly, masking the fact that it was an order. Gabby had never taken orders well. As he carried the fax over to the specified tray, he skim-read it. The title caught his eye.
"Election 2074 Insurance"
The papers bore the official government seal as a watermark, and each page had the warning `Unauthorised possession of this paper will be punished' stamped in the margins. It was a slow day in the bar and, even now the back room had been transformed from a resistance information centre to an official campaign office, he had time on his hands. Gabe slipped into a comfortable swivel chair and began reading.
"Cat! He's going to fucking rig that bitch! He's got software embedded deep in the vote counting systems. I knew he wouldn't let it go that easy! The election is a done deal for him, and once he's regained legitimacy, he'll fucking tighten his grip even more. You know this cunt! You know how it works! We have to stop him!"
"How? It's not like Hali and hundreds of others haven't been over the software with a fine toothcomb. Anyway, you're basing all this off of some report we got sent by a known loony. We get them all the time. The one he sent before this, claimed Simon had a secret research base in New Mexico where he was keeping a hideously deformed monster that ate people's livers. You know that! I wouldn't put it past Simon to rig the election, but who would back him? The army is neutral, which basically means they're with us, remember?"
"Well, I'm going to prove you wrong," Gabby said flatly, crossing his arms.
"Gabby, what are you thinking? You're not doing anything stupid, are you?"
"When do I ever act stupidly?"
Cat sighed.
Kulko stood back-stage at the rally. He'd didn't much like being up on the podium with Ian, it felt too exposed. He also agreed with Colt, he was too closely associated with direct action. It raised too many questions if he was up there with the man.
One of the advantages to back stage though, was that you got to check out the audience. Sure there were security guys. In fact there were security guys, and then more security guys, there was Joe Scalia, and then some contacts of BD's and Ant's about whom it was best not to ask too many questions and then BD and Ant themselves, lurking to either side of the stage, dressed in black with blanked out dataglasses and rather obvious weaponry. Kulko found it easier to step aside from that system. He loafed about back stage, talking to the stage hands and the sound guys and getting a feel for the place, letting his instinct for survival dictate his actions.
Today the hair on the back of his neck was standing on end, but he couldn't put a finger on why. No one was acting particularly suspiciously, the rally wasn't that large in the grand scheme of things. The appetite for change in Eritrea wasn't big, too many people worried about what would happen next.
Following his instincts, Kulko climbed up to one of the flying gantries, from which the lighting people set up and managed the rig. It occurred to him, as his head topped the ladder, that there should be security up here. He crouched low and carefully unholstered his firearm, scanning all the while for a security guard.
He could see none. He glanced across to the other side. There was a figure there. He flipped on his own dataglasses, expecting to see the security tag flag up the man's name and details, but there was nothing. The figure on the opposite gantry wasn't wearing a security badge. Kulko crawled forwards trying to get opposite the man. He was about halfway there when he saw its head turn, a flash of light bounced off the dataglasses it was wearing. Kulko cursed and tore off his own ID tag. He ran forward raising his gun to fire, but the figure had gone.
Cursing, he hurried back and then round, crossing the stage on a narrow walkway to reach the spot where the human shape had stood. He paused for a moment, gun drawn, scanning the area for inspiration. What felt like a ten-ton weight suddenly slammed into his back and sent him sprawling to the narrow walkway. The gun spun from his grasp, coming to rest against a strut. He rolled over, hoping to throw his assailant. He felt the attacker reach down and grab him by the neck. Kulko gasped as he was lifted off his feet as if he had been a child, not a heavy-set wall of muscle. The attacker's face was hidden behind a balaclava and dataglasses, but he got the impression it was looking at him, even as it squeezed his throat with an iron grip. Kulko jerked his head back, his dataglasses falling down to the stage below and he scrabbled at the fingers round his throat, but to no avail.