Angel Of The City (21 page)

The two women share a restrained
hug. “I’m sorry,” Meki says. “It has been a long few days.”

“
You don’t have to apologize,” Abby says.

Meki frowns.
“Where is Pen?”

Abby opens her mouth to answer but nothing comes out. Her eyes wel
l up and her lower lip trembles. The look of a child struck hard across the face.

I answer for her.
“Pen is gone.”

“
But how? When?”

Abby has
her hand over her eyes, still fighting back the tears.

I shake my head. Now is neither the time nor the place to go into it. And it
’s too soon. Too soon for Abby certainly, but as my thoughts turn to Pen, I realize it’s too soon for me as well.

Saving Pen was important to me in ways I still can
’t comprehend. Maybe I thought that by saving her, I could save that part of me that had once been like her. As Pen trusted Abby, there was a time I would have trusted Cole with my life, followed him anywhere. When that trust died, Pen chose to die with it. I chose another way.

There isn
’t time to dwell on it. “Meki, we need to find Kingston.”

She looks across the room to Jirou whose gaze is on the floor, almost catatonic.
“Jirou,” she says softly.

The seconds tick by and I wonder if he heard her. Finally, he stirs
, lifting his head to meet her eyes. He stands and takes a long look at the two sleeping children at his feet before walking over to us, axe still in hand.

“
They need to find Kingston,” Meki says.

“
He moved his headquarters the day you met with Devon.” His words come slowly in an emotionless monotone. “He and his people wait in a tunnel in the ninety-eighth precinct.”

“
Wait for what?”

“
To attack the armory there.”

The statement rouses Abby and she sighs, wiping her eyes on her shirtsleeve.
“The armory? He’s lost his mind.”

That
Kingston may be mad is entirely possible, but his plan isn’t as crazy as it sounds. In any normal time, a raid on an armory would be suicide. They house a garrison of men and the entry is heavily barricaded. But this isn’t a normal time.

“
Why would he even try?” She asks. “I thought the guns were useless?”

“
He’s found a way around the mechanisms,” I say.

“
I thought you said there wasn’t one.”

“
There isn’t, not in the weapons themselves. But if he gains entry to the armory, he’ll have access to the radio codes. If he can disable the transmitter, they won’t be able to shut the guns down. I suppose he figures that with every available Counselor on the street, the armory will be almost empty of personnel.”

“
Is he right?” Abby asks.

“
Maybe.”

“
And if he gets the guns?” Meki asks. “Then what?”

Then Kingston will try and bring down the government. He
’ll arm his people and anyone who’s loyal to him and attack the Ministry and Council headquarters. When that happens, every Counselor will be called back to defend the Garden District and the quarters will be free to tear each other apart without interference.

I shrug.
“Then I suggest you do what the people of the old city did. Find a hole and hide in it.”

The room grows quiet.

Jirou looks up. “People from the Bonifrei quarter—your quarter—they came last night.”

He doesn
’t even try to hide the hurt and disillusionment, but if he’s damning me for my place of birth, I don’t see it in his eyes. “I know.”

“
So angry. So full of hate.” He glances around the room, to the broken window; his children lying huddled on the floor. “They will be back, won’t they?”

I wish my answer was different.
“Probably.”

He nods, his expression unchanged.

“Jirou, do you know when Kingston plans to attack?”

But he
’s become silent again. He wanders back to the stove and sits down between the children.

“
We went to see Kingston after we heard you had been killed,” Meki says. “He was busy moving from the hospital and had little time for us, but I overheard Jace talking. He said that the seventh would soon be remembered as ‘freedom day.’”

Tomorrow is the seventh. I check my watch. It
’s three hours till dawn. “They’ll attack in the early morning, when the riots are at their peak. If we’re going to catch Kingston, then we’ll have to get there before him.”

Abby takes Meki
’s hand. “Is there any place else you can go? Anywhere safer?”

The small woman looks lost.
“Where? What place is safe in the city?”

I take out my pistol and offer it to her.

She stares, but doesn’t take it. “It would do no good. There are too many. We cannot kill them all.”

The walk to the ninety-eighth takes almost two hours. As always, we keep to the side-streets and shadows, but there’s little need. Although the Chojo is quiet, that’s not true in every quarter and all eyes will be on those areas still rioting. To the east, a dull orange-red glow tints the night sky. The Heights are on fire.

The armory is situated on a wide street
next to an empty lot. This is a commercial area and we cling to the buildings across the street as we approach. Even with the city in chaos, it will be monitored and closely watched. We stop a block away—no reason to risk detection getting any closer—and crouch at the corner of a furniture store, huddling against the wind.

From here, the armory looks unassailable: a squat, thick-walled building with narrow, recessed windows. The entire area is fenced in, with a manned gate and surrounded by heavy, concrete barricades. Unseen are the machine guns
and mortars mounted on the roof and the cameras hidden in the shadows, recording every movement within fifty yards.

Abby shakes her head.
“This is where Kingston wants to start his revolution? He really is crazy. A small army couldn’t get into that building.”

I pull up the collar of my jacket.
“He obviously thinks he’s found a way.” The air is biting, but Abby doesn’t complain, even though I can see her lips are blue. “C’mon, let’s get out of this cold.”

I slip my tool kit from my pocket and walk around to the front door of the furniture store. It
’s dangerous to be on the street this close to the armory, but we should be out of range of the cameras. I slide a pick into the lock.

“
Won’t you set off an alarm?” she asks.

“
We’ll have a few minutes.” The lock gives and the knob turns in my hand.

Merchandise crowds the floor space: chairs followed by tables followed by beds. We pass them all and head to the back, looking for the office. It isn
’t hard to find. The streetlamps shining in through the large picture windows gives plenty of light.

The alarm is set into the wall of the office, near the desk, its red light blinking. I tap a series of six numbers on the keypad and the blinking stops, the color changing to a steady green.

“I’m impressed,” Abby says. “How did you know the code?”

“
It’s a Council override number.”

She smiles.
“Now I’m disillusioned.”

“
Why?”

“
That’s cheating. I thought you were a master thief.”

“
Nope. Just garden-variety.”

“
Oh, that’s right.” She rubs her arms as a shiver runs through her. “Thank you.”

I start to sit on one of the near beds but the look on her face stops me in mid squat. I
forgot she still must have some Pan in her system. Besides, I wasn’t making a proposition; I’m just tired. I reverse course and stand, but now there’s an awkwardness, her eyes avoiding me and the bed.

“
You’re sure you want to do this?”

Her head snaps up.

“Kingston.”

A deep blush colors her.
“Oh.”

“
Abby…”

“
This is something I have to do, but there’s no reason for you to stay. You’ve done more than I could have asked. I can handle the rest myself. You should go back to Reed.”

“
Should I?”

“
Yes. Take your own advice: bury yourselves in one of those nests of yours and wait until things get better.”

“
And what if they don’t?”

“
All riots end. You said so yourself.”

“
I’m not talking about the riots.”

“
What, then?”

So here it comes.
Why am I telling you this? What possible difference can it make?
None, but you should know anyway. Of all people, you should know.
“The Westside is dying, it has been for years. It’s the reason for the shortages. The problem isn’t hoarding like Kingston claims, it’s that land—it won’t support crops anymore. No one is sure why—probably the same thing that’s killed off the rest of the world. All I know, is it was bad six years ago it’s only gotten worse. The land is almost dead.”

Her face reflects her rapidly changing emotion: confusion followed quickly by comprehension, then
denial. “No, no you’re wrong. That’s not possible.”

“
Yes it is. Abby, we’re running out of food.” We stare at each other in silence as I let it sink in.

“All right, so what’s being done about it?” she asks, finally.

“
We need more land.”

“
There isn’t any.” She’s angry. Probably she doesn’t even realize it herself, or understand why, if she does. But instinctively, she knows she doesn’t want to hear this.

“
There’s the city itself. An area the size of two quarters, removed of people and razed to the ground, then plowed over, should be enough.”

“
You’re joking.”

“
No, I’m not.”

“
You know how many people we’re talking about?”

“
Around twelve million.”

“
And where do they expect to relocate twelve million people?”

“
I didn’t say relocate. I said remove.”

It takes only a few seconds for the enormity of what I
’ve said to sink in. She shakes her head. “No…”

“
The wall isn’t for traffic control, Abby. When it’s time, they’ll seal off the Huenta and Aramaic quarters. Nothing in, nothing out. I don’t know when, but all these shortages means the time must be getting near.”

She
’s shaking her head faster, a deep flush rising in her cheeks. Then suddenly she cries out and swings, catching me in the nose with her fist. Both arms flailing, she hits me again and again; in the chest, in the face. I do nothing to stop her.

It doesn
’t take her long to wear herself out, panting and sobbing. “You bastards…you bastards…”

I rub my hand
under my nose, smearing blood.

“
How long have you known?” She asks.

“
Since before I left the Council.”

“
And you’ve done nothing in all that time?”

The question both surprises and irritates me.
What was I supposed to do?
“I was against the decision,” I say, and the words sound pathetic, even to me.

“
Of course you were,” she says bitterly. “The good Counselor, too noble to torture a young boy, but willing to watch as twelve million people die of starvation.”

Now it
’s my turn to get angry. This was a decision made in the highest levels of government, both the Ministry and the Council signed off on it. Most Counselors don’t even know the true purpose of the wall. I wouldn’t have known about it myself, if not for the fact that I was Keillor’s secretary and saw the document. “There was nothing I could do to stop it.”

She looks up, her eyes swollen and moist.
“Did you even try?”

Her expres
sion freezes me. Not anger or hatred or even pity this time. It is a look of disgust, and just beneath it something else, something like betrayal. I stare back at her in silence.

“
No, of course not. You just crawled into a hole.” She lets out a humorless laugh. “You know, I used to think that the last living thing on this planet would be a cockroach. But now I think it just might be you.”

“
Abby…”

She
turns and staggers wearily toward the front of the building. “Just go away. I was wrong. Tell Reed. Tell her everything. She deserves to know.”