I Am Margaret (44 page)

“Make the Divine Denial,” he said, still sounding arrogant as anything.

“No!”

He smacked me into the gurney again, making my ears ring.

“Make it.”

“NO.”

Smack.

“Make it.”

“Leave me alone!”

My heart was drumming, and panic coursed through me. I wanted to do as he said, I wanted it almost more than I’d ever wanted anything.
No. I will not.

“Make it!”

“
No!”
I screamed, “get this into your thick heads, I am not making the Divine denial—there is absolutely nothing you can do that’s worse than what you’re going to do anyway, so how the hell do you think you’re going to change my mind?
How,
moron?” I spat in his face. Okay, so it wasn’t a very nice thing to do, but I was absolutely desperate to get rid of them before my nerve broke. I was too close, far, far too close…

He smacked me into the gurney once more for good measure, then wiped his face on his sleeve.

“Let’s leave the little bitch to stew in her own blood.”

“Chairman said break her,” said Reginald Hill half-heartedly.

“If we could, Reg,” pointed out Mr. British Department with a nasty smile. “We’ve tried, haven’t we?”

Go away just go away please and let them get on with it ‘cause I don’t think I can hold out much longer
…

“Last chance, bitch,” said Mr. EGD. “Then it’s over to the dismantler and his eye scoops.”

That broke something inside me and I hurled myself from side to side against the straps, to no avail. All that happened was I threw up on him, too. There wasn’t much left in my stomach and he managed to miss most of it by jumping backwards.

“Sod off,” I panted, when I’d stopped heaving and sunk back, wrists and throat burning. That wasn’t very nice either, but what I really wanted to say was, ‘yes, yes, of course I’ll say it, just keep Doctor Richard away from me, at least until I’m safely unconscious in a year or so’s time…’

“Fine,” snapped Mr. EGD, looking at Reginald Hill. “Sign that thing and let’s clear off.”

“A pleasure.” Reginald Hill looked straight at me as he did so, the cold smile on his lined face not quite hiding his frustration. He handed the form to Doctor Richard and before I’d quite taken it in, all three had swept from the Lab.

Which just left the Major and the dismantling team. The Major said something I couldn’t catch to the doctor while the minions moved in and began to remove my—that is, the Menace’s—clothes. I began to shake in long, convulsive shudders, twisting wildly against the straps. Hopeless. I was utterly helpless.

Doctor Richard laid two syringes down on a little table beside the gurney. I recognized one, the amber liquid they’d given Uncle Peter. The clear one was surely the anesthetic used in normal executions and dismantlements. Huh?

The Major went around to the clean side of the gurney and perched on the edge, staring down his long nose at me.

“Well, girl, you beat them, didn’t you?” he said coolly. “Now, I have my own offer. I don’t care what you have to say about your Divinity. But if you tell me what I want to know, I will give you this clear injection with my own hands.”

He picked up the syringe and twiddled it in his fingers, watching me watching it. “Yes, you know what
this
is, don’t you? This is the standard anesthetic. Once you’ve got this in you, you’ll never feel a thing. You’ll just fall straight asleep and it will all be over.”

“But what do you want?” I asked suspiciously. My throat was hoarse but I could hardly take my eyes off that clear fluid.

He leaned closer, his eyes passing up over my bra to meet mine without pausing.

“Where are the others?”

I looked away, squeezing my eyes shut. Bane’s voice drummed through my head, ‘We’re going first to the glade in the Fellest below Rayle’s Pass—you remember those caves there.’ The glade below Rayle’s Pass. The glade below Rayle’s Pass.
Oh no
.

“So, you do know where they’re going. Just tell me and the anesthetic’s yours. What the bigwigs don’t know won’t hurt them.”

Doctor Richard eyed the Major rather nervously at that.

“Come, tell me,” said the Major coaxingly.

“No,” I whispered.

“
Come, come, you must know their chances of getting away permanently are next to nothing? Seventy
reAssignees?
You must know it’s hopeless.”

“If it’s so hopeless, why are you so desperate for me to tell you where they are?”

His lip twitched slightly.

“Ah yes, you ran rings around their Lordships, so now you will do the same with me. But this is a good offer and it’s the last one you’re likely to get.”

“I don’t expect you’ve read my book?” My voice only trembled a little.

“Yes, actually. Enjoyed it. Opened it when it arrived just to read the first page, you know—but for some strange reason I couldn’t stop reading—not until I had to take a rather important phone call. Way to piss off a lot of people, young lady. Why do you ask?”

“My fiancé’s with the others. So I think you need to reconsider whether I’m likely to tell you where they are, don’t you?”

“Well, as you say, young lady, I read the book. I reckon your fiancé would be quite happy to be shot or dismantled in the normal way if it saved you from what you face. Do you disagree?” I looked away again. “So why don’t you tell me?”

“
Because
I
would not be
quite happy!
And though I’m the one in here for poor math I seem to be able to count better than you. Or do you value your own life to the tune of seventy to one?”

He leaned closer. He smelt of flowers and soil but also sweat. Nice to know we had made him run around a bit today. His eyes were like reflections of my own in the lights and they stared bleakly into mine.

“But we are not talking about lives, Margaret, are we? We are talking about deaths. Seventy painless deaths against the one which awaits you? That doesn’t seem such a bad trade.”

“I am not giving you Bane,” I snapped. “Or the others! So go away and leave me alone, you evil bastard.”

“Ah, you’re trying to make me angry. Well, it worked on them, didn’t it? Though I doubt you’d have got through the skin of the charming Mr. Reginald Hill with mere words. A convenient attack of bodily frailty, that. But you know what I think? I think they were too quick to leave. I think if they’d pushed just a little further, they’d have had you. Still, their loss is my gain. So why don’t you tell me where the others are?”

“How did you pass your Sorting when you’re clearly deaf as a post?” But I quaked inside. Because he was right. I’d wound the others up and they’d all lost their tempers, and somewhat in the nick of time. The Major wasn’t showing any sign of losing his.

“You’ve seen what awaits you, but still, I wonder if you truly understand.” The Major produced a pocket knife and unfolded it. “I will educate you.”

“
Oh,
sir
…” appealed Doctor Richard, as the knife blade strayed towards my cheeks.

“Fine.” Major Everington seized my chin with one hand, brushed hair aside and set the point of the knife to my forehead, pressing slowly and steadily.

The pain was sharp and piercing and I tried to twist away, but his grip was like iron.
Don’t make a fuss, don’t make a fuss, it’s nothing
… but it was almost impossible to remain still. I yanked hopelessly at my wrist restraints as he went on with his slow cut, struggling not to cry out—or just start crying.

He drew the blade away and held it in front of my eyes. Blood dripped onto my face.

“So. Where are they? No?” And the blade was biting through my skin again, his voice filling my ears, low and matter-of-fact. “These little surface cuts are nothing. No real comparison with what Doctor Richard will get up to. Take this pain and then multiply it by a thousand. Hard to imagine? Perhaps you should tell me where they are?

“Ah well,” he drew the blade away again and cleaned it on a piece of the Menace’s snipped away uniform. “Our little lesson is complete. Are you going to answer my question? Because Doctor Richard’s lesson won’t be nearly as pleasant as mine. And you didn’t look like you enjoyed mine terribly much.” He eyed me measuringly. “Pass me that eye scoop, Richard, I noticed she found that particularly entertaining.”

And he held it in front of my face and opened and closed it a few times. The scoops went click-click as they came together. I closed my eyes and turned my face away and then, oh no, I was crying at last. Big, full out, hysterical sobbing, like there was something inside trying to climb out.

“Tell me where they are going...” the Major’s voice whispered.

Rayle’s Pass. Rayle’s Pass. Rayle’s Pass
. That’s what was trying to get out. If I opened my mouth it would. How could I hold it in? Bane, think of Bane. Bane’s safety lay behind my closed lips. I could not speak. Bane, Bane, be safe, be well, live long, live happy…

Without me? I don’t want it to be without me, I want to live, I want it so much… or at least to not die like
this
… if I told the Major, he might not catch them all…
All
, oh Lord, give me strength, I bet Father Mark’s with them! How can I think of condemning him to this in my place, simply for helping with my rescue? And Bane, Bane would be hurt, I must stay quiet. I must!

I cried and cried and could not stop.

I cried for the terrible danger I was leaving Bane to face alone. For the rest of his life faced alone. For my lost life that I wanted so much and couldn’t have. I cried with every drop of the terror coursing through my veins. I cried as though my heart were breaking. But I kept my lips shut.

Finally I ran out of tears, or possibly breath to sob with, and reluctantly opened my eyes and looked at the Major again. What would he try next? He was staring down at me and even now, when he was trying to drag information from me, I still had the feeling he saw
me
. A strange clarity of vision for someone in his profession.

“Are you going to tell me?”

I shook my head, mouth still tightly closed.

“Well, then. If you can cry like that and still say no, I admit defeat. Go screaming, then, to your God, if you insist on it. Have no fear He will not recognize you. There is no danger of that, now.”

Huh? My thoughts were such a jumble. My forehead still hurt, the pain of the cuts knifing through me. The cuts… I could feel their fiery shape... The bastard had carved a cross into my forehead. He
had
read my book. Re-baptized in my own blood.

He picked up the clear syringe again, tapping it against one long forefinger. His eyes met mine and in that moment I actually thought he was going to stick the needle into my arm, regardless.
Yes
...

Then Doctor Richard was there, taking the syringe.

“I’d better put this away, sir, since it isn’t required.” He carried it briskly to the other side of the room. The Major watched him go, and the minions watched the Major.

Major Everington stood.

“Well, then,” he said, and moved towards the door.

“I forgive you,” I blurted. I don’t know where the words came from.

He turned back, his eyes unreadable.

“Do you, young lady?” His tone was as unreadable as his eyes. He raised his hand in something like a salute, strode through the door and was gone. I was alone with people who could see only my parts and not my whole. I knew I should forgive them too.

“I’ll need the skin peeler first,” Doctor Richard was telling the minions. “Start spraying the antiseptic on her lower abdomen, ready...”

I eyed Doctor Richard. Could I forgive him? Could I even
want
to forgive him? Could I love him enough?

Some trace of my conflict must’ve appeared on my face, because he snatched up the amber syringe.

“No more of that drivel from you, subject,” he snapped.

His hand gripped my arm, holding it still, and the needle pierced my skin, a tiny pain beside the cuts. Which were tiny compared to what was to come.

As the amber fluid slid into my vein, panic seized me. I drew breath to scream…

…and found I could not. My eyelids sagged; closed.

My muscles were no longer mine to control.

***+***

28

DISMANTLEMENT