B00DW1DUQA EBOK (11 page)

Finn stood and watched, powerless. The clear understanding that his childhood was over, as utterly as Connor’s was over, came to him. They were boys no longer, just as Diane was no longer a girl. Soon enough, Finn knew, he would be a man and then, some time after that, he would die. And he would never see Connor again.

The dust kicked up by the horses tasted gritty and bitter in his mouth. He wormed his own finger into its ring, hidden in his pocket. He stood and watched as Connor grew smaller, his head slumped forward as he rode away.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Mrs. Megrim, standing behind him. ‘If I could have done anything I would. I thought they’d come for Diane. I didn’t think …’

‘Diane,’ said Finn. ‘I have to help her.’

He was running again, back up to the Switch House. He crashed in, bundled Diane’s gear back into the blanket, then tore down to the lane, towards the woods. He didn’t care if he met his parents or the Ironclads or anyone. He didn’t care about the tearing pain in his side. He ran and ran, past his house, dashing headlong through the woods, leaping branches and ditches in his way, pushing through nettles as if they weren’t there.

He arrived, panting, wide-eyed, in the clearing.

She was gone. He was alone in the clearing. He slumped to the log, his breathing still wild, looking around at the trees, wondering what he was going to do. He stayed there for a long time, but no-one came to take him away. No-one knew where he was.

Eventually the darkness thickened between the boughs of the trees. He stood and wiped his eyes with the palms of his hands. He left Diane’s stuff on the ground, in case she came back, and walked away.

Three years passed in the valley. Three summers of wilting heat, three winters of snow. Finn ranged farther and farther from home, up beyond the mountain slopes where the avalanche had caught them. Down past Three Tree Hill and the farm. His mother and father, watching him set out alone again each time, sighed and held each other but said nothing.

He spent more and more of his time at the Switch House, helping Mrs. Megrim. When the old woman was ill, he ran the junction on his own. He loved the dark seclusion of the little room. No-one else was allowed inside. The quietness engulfed him like a warm blanket. He loved the patient gaze of the telescopes and the smooth paper of the ledger in which they recorded every communication they switched. He loved the clear mechanisms and rules. They represented the whole world ordered, categorized, explained. Everything had its address and every message could be routed to its proper place by following the rules. Life and all its complexities and anxieties were reduced to a simple code of flashes, each flash understandable and rational. The world seen from the Switch House made sense.

He loved also the thought of having the whole valley, the wider world beyond, there in front of him, brought flickering down the lines of light. He could peer through any one of fifty telescopes and see almost anywhere he could think of. The slightest turn of the focus-wheel was all that was needed to turn blurred confusion into crisp detail. Sometimes he panned a spare telescope across fields and hillsides, picking out the barns and the trees where he had once played with Connor and, briefly, Diane.

More and more he preferred to sit in the darkness and wander the valley with his eye. He was a spider at the centre of a web, all-seeing. Like Mrs. Megrim, he knew everything that took place in the valley, learning to read the faint flickers of light as they passed between line-of-sight eyepieces in the darkness. He knew who loved whom, and who hated whom. He felt closer to all the people he shared the valley with, even though there were many he had never seen or met.

Yet he wasn’t all-seeing and didn’t, in fact, know everything. They still switched through encrypted message occasionally. All he could tell was who had sent them and where they were going. Almost always, they were trunk messages for 1A11 and almost always they were sent by Matt Dobey. Engn, for its part, never replied.

There was one such message now. Finn was alone, Mrs. Megrim at home in bed with some unspecified problem with her insides. Matt’s message had come through mid-afternoon. As he routed it through to the trunk line, Finn had set up a splitter lens to take a copy of it for himself.

He sighed as he studied it. He sat at Mrs. Megrim’s desk, her red lamp giving him just enough light to see by, the bank wall off to his right so that he would notice any connection requests flickering.

He had four of the encrypted messages now, kept rolled up in a length of steel pipe borrowed from his father’s workshop. Everyone knew the operator intercepted messages. They were supposed to, to check they weren’t garbled. But to keep a
copy
of one was a serious offence. He only ever dared do so when he was alone.

He frowned as he studied the jumbled streams of letters and numbers. As ever, he could make nothing of them. Each message started with the same few lines and there were certain combinations of characters that repeated themselves in the messages. That had to be significant. Could he use that to somehow work out the original messages? He couldn’t see how.

Of course, he knew how to send and receive encrypted messages. At the base of each line-of-sight was a set of ten tiny brass dials, each marked with the digits zero to nine. Every house had their own combination they dialled-in if they wanted to send an encrypted message. People rarely bothered as it was all so fiddly. The sender first had to send a plain text message warning the recipient to set the key at their end. The encryption was reliable, unbreakable, but it depended on people remembering each other’s keys and the fact was most people couldn’t even remember their own.

In the half-light of the hushed room, Finn set up two ‘scopes now, pointing at each other, going nowhere else. Perhaps it was possible to work out what the messages were by replaying them. He punched in the encrypted text at one end and then walked around to see what came out of the other. It was just more gibberish, even more random-looking than the original. Of course, he had the wrong key. The dials at both ends were at all zeroes. He tried setting the dials at the receiving end to all ones, then to all twos, then to a random ten-digit number, but each time it was just the same: different patterns of letters and numbers, just noise and interference rather than message.

He toyed with going through every combination on the dials but soon gave up on the idea. A whole lifetime wouldn’t be enough. He just didn’t understand how the line-of-sights worked. Somehow they decrypted the messages without trouble. Some clever machinery. He had taken one apart, once, an old one they didn’t need any more, but he had learned nothing from the tiny wheels and cogs that had sprung into a useless jumble even as he opened the case.

There was only one answer. If he wanted to find out what Matt was saying to Engn, he needed to know his combination number. But the thought of breaking into his house, perhaps when Matt was away working down the valley, repulsed him. He had never been inside Matt’s house. He and Connor had crept close once but movement inside had startled them into flight. Besides, Matt was sure to reset his dials after use, not leave the combination visible for all to see.

There was a knock on the door, three sharp raps. He gasped as he looked up. It was Mrs. Megrim, warning him to cover his eyes before she came in. Finn stuffed all the printouts into his shirt and rotated the two line-of-sights so that they faced in random directions. The door opened.

‘Mrs. Megrim! I thought you weren’t well.’

‘I’m well enough to hobble up here. And what are you up to? I see there’s a waiting connection on the bank wall.’

Finn glanced up. He’d missed the flickering pattern while concentrating on Matt’s messages. He needed to be more careful.

‘It’s just Mrs. Griffin calling her daughter for her daily moan,’ he said, hurriedly lining up the two telescopes. ‘The same as every day.’

‘That’s not the point is it? Our job is to switch through all messages. If you can’t be trusted with it I’ll have to find someone else.’

‘Sorry.’

Mrs. Megrim sat down, awkwardly, stiffly as if the bones in her hips had fused together. ‘Very well. And what else have I missed?’

‘Nothing unusual. A lot of chatter about the harvest. Oh, and another encrypted message from Turnpike Cottage.’

‘Was there indeed? What’s he saying to them now, I wonder?’

Finn shrugged his shoulders. He had thought, once, that perhaps Mrs. Megrim had a way of reading encrypted messages, some secret machine she could use, but months of gentle questioning had convinced him she didn’t. And even if she had she wouldn’t use it.

‘I wish I knew,’ he said.

‘Stirring up trouble again. If we’re not careful we’ll have more of his bloody Ironclads running around the valley.’ Finn glanced up at her, surprised. Mrs. Megrim
never
swore. Her voice was thin and angry today: scraped away by exhaustion or pain.

‘I don’t think you should be here, Mrs. Megrim. You don’t look well.’

‘Thank you, Finn. I’m perfectly well, for your information.’

‘Of course, Mrs. Megrim.’

‘Now off you go home. You’ve been stuck in here all day. I’m sure you must be starving.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, yes of course. Now off you go. I’ll let your mother know you’re coming.’

Back home, his parents waited for him with Matt, the three of them sitting together at the table. Their faces turned towards him as he entered. For a moment alarm thumped through Finn. They knew what he’d been up to. Somehow Matt had found out. But then the lengthsman drained his tankard, yawned and stood, his usual grin on his face.

‘Many thanks for the drink. I’ll leave you to your domestic bliss.’

His father had been helping Matt relay some dry-stone walls up the valley. He must have just dropped in on his way home. He brushed past Finn at the doorway and winked, as if they shared wonderful secrets. Finn said nothing. He stood watching as the lengthsman pushed open the garden gate and disappeared down the lane. Somehow, he had to discover Matt’s line-of-sight number. But how?

Later, after they had eaten a tea of lamb stew and dumplings, Finn and his mother went up to the woods to pick blackberries. Mountainous brambles massed under the eaves of the oak trees up the lane. As he plucked plump fruit from the spiky bushes, the problem of Matt’s number turned over and over in his mind.

‘Mrs. Megrim doesn’t like Matt much, does she?’ he said, as he tried to pull tiny thorns from his purple fingers.

‘She didn’t tell you about it all?’

‘Tell me what?’

‘About what happened.’

‘No, never.’

‘Well, it was all a long time ago. I was just a girl myself, long before I married your father. She had twins, two boys. Tom and Rory. Both full of mischief but you could never get cross with them. They had such lovely smiles. A bit like you and Connor when you’d been up to no good.’

She glanced a smile at him through the tangled brambles.

‘What happened to them?’ he asked, although he knew what the answer must be.

‘The Ironclads took them. Both on the same day. She’s never been the same since. You might find it hard to believe but she used to be good fun, always laughing.’

‘I didn’t know.’

‘No, well, she doesn’t talk about it much.’

Finn worked away without saying anything for a time, harvesting the berries and dropping them into his pot. Some, the biggest and juiciest, he ate there and then.

‘So what does that have to do with Matt?’

His mother cast a calculating glance his way.

‘Well, Matt was great friends with her boys. Inseparable they were. But Matt stayed here and
they
were both taken. It’s ridiculous, of course, but I think she blames him.’

‘Perhaps she’s right. Perhaps he told the Ironclads about them.’

‘None of us have any say in the workings of Engn, Finn. The Ironclads decided to come for her boys and that was that. Matt was just lucky.’

‘So, what do you think of him?’

She was in two minds as to what to say, he could see, caught between treating him as a child and an adult. She didn’t speak for a moment as she reached high up for the large, jewel-like blackberries massed on top of the bush.

‘Well, your father says he wouldn’t trust Matt to put a spade into the ground without missing. Me, well, I don’t have much to do with him. I don’t really know him very well, not now. I feel sorry for him, I suppose.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, he’s all on his own, isn’t he? No family, no children. It must be a lonely life.’

‘He never married?’

‘No. Not for want of trying, though. In fact he asked me to walk out with him once, a long time back. He was very persistent, you know? But I was already seeing your father.’

‘Dad gets on with him, though,’ said Finn. ‘They’re always laughing together.’

‘Your dad just likes to get on with everyone. It’s a good way to be. He tries to help even when he should be doing his own work.’

‘Matt never helps
him
out.’

‘No.’

Finn scowled. Plans buzzed around in his mind. So far as he could see, there was only one way to read Matt’s messages. It was a dangerous plan and probably wouldn’t work, but he had to try. His mother’s words had helped him. He had always thought his parents and Matt were good friends. It didn’t feel so bad doing what he planned, now.

‘Come on, young man,’ his mother said. ‘I think we’ve enough for three blackberry pies now. Let’s go home.’

Finn hooked his arm through hers as they made their way back down the lane, swinging their pots of fruit. As they walked, Finn began to work through all the details of his plan, along with all the ways it could go wrong. He tried not to think about what would happen to him if it did.

It was three months before he had a chance to put his plan into action. Mrs. Megrim, thinner and more stick-like each day, still insisted on working at the Switch House. But then she slipped on a patch of ice at her front-door and broke her wrist as she tried to save herself. Finn was entrusted to run the network alone for a week. Not that Mrs. Megrim left him alone. She sent messages through nearly every hour, reminding him to complete some task or other, nagging him to keep an eye on the bank wall. Finn grinned as he read each one and replied dutifully that he would do as she said.