Kingdom: The Complete Series (13 page)

She leans against the
shelves and flicks through the book, an inward smile radiating across her face
as she runs her eyes over the pages.

“
That's
when he comes for you,” says Jamie. “When you're vulnerable. When you're low.”

“
The
King,” says Mark. “What did he offer you?”

“
A
life,” says Jamie. “He gave us a flat, an income, paid our bills for us: on the
condition that I work for him.”

“
What
did you do?”

“
I'm
very, very good at a narrow range of things” Jamie clears his throat. “Like
repossessing cars.”

“
You're
a thief?”

“
He's
not a thief,” says Chloe, looking up from her book. “Not any more. He quit –
that's what got us into this bloody mess.” She looks at Jamie and her eyes
soften, the hardness leaving them. “The King just likes to control people. He
didn't even need most of those cars.”

“
He
upped the quota over time,” says Jamie. “One a month, then two, then four. The
last time, it was eight. That was when I tried to quit. In return, they took
Chloe.”

Mark looks between
them, and the shock fades from his face as he realises that this is exactly how
the King works.

“
When
I found you in his offices,” says Mark. “You were -”

“
I
was getting her back,” he nods. “What did he do to you?”

“
He
drove me into poverty,” says Mark, shaking his head. “With no money, he could
control me. You're either dependent on him to keep what you love, or he
makes
you dependent on him.”

“
Exactly,”
says Jamie, “and the minute you seem as though you can make it on your own:
game over. You disappear.”

Mark, for the first
time since walking into this museum of his past failures, smiles.

“
Not
us,” he says.

“
No,”
says Jamie, raising an eyebrow. “I don't know what the hell happened to us, but
we might be the only people who've ever stood up to him like this. No wonder he
wouldn't let you help people, Mark – you were undermining his advantage over
them. If people aren't desperate, he can't control them.”

“
Well,
we've hurt his operation already,” says Mark. “I don't know how, but we'll get
him.”

“
If
it is one man, that is,” says Chloe. “It might be a syndicate. It might be a
conspiracy – we don't even know how far up this goes.”

The group fall silent, and
the hush of the Gardens steals what sound it can from them, snatching the noise
away like a thief.

“
The
King will figure out who I am, if he hasn't already,” says Mark, seeming
smaller all of a sudden. “I don't fear him, not any more – but I do fear for my
mother. The King is our priority.”

“
My
main priority is her,” says Jamie with care, pointing at Chloe. “If I thought
she was safer alone than she was with me, I'd leave her here.”

“
I'm
coming with you,” says Chloe, putting the book down and folding her arms. “One
way or another.”

“
If
we don't take this guy out,” says Mark, “then you'll never be safe as long as
you live. The King wouldn't let somebody spit in his face and walk away.”

They are all silenced
by the creaking of a heavy wooden door reverberating through the halls – they
stare at each other, frozen in that moment.

“
Was
that -” Chloe starts, and Jamie holds up a hand to silence her.

“
I
think,” whispers Mark, “that the Trespasser has found us.”

“
The
guy in black?” asks Jamie.

Mark nods.

“
What
if they got to him?” asks Chloe. “Maybe he's been followed.”

“
I'll
go out and check,” says Mark. “Wait here.”

Chloe and Jamie stand
there in the silence, hearing Mark's soft footsteps disappear out into the
hallway and pad on the stairs.

The sounds of military
boots seem so out of place in the tranquil Gardens. They give a very particular
echo – the kind, Chloe thinks, that you only ever get in huge buildings like
cathedrals. Everything echoes so many times that the faint echoing of the past
becomes the ambient sound, bouncing around for centuries. If you listen
closely, you can hear the place being built. The Gardens give her that feeling,
of time folded up like a cloth and left to gather dust.

As the door creaks
open, Jamie moves in front of her without thinking. Mark enters, and behind him
comes a dark-armoured soldier, who stops with his hands raised. Jamie looks
long and hard into those dark circled eyes behind the mask.

“
I
surrender,” comes the gruff voice of the Trespasser.

“
We
should take his guns,” says Jamie.

“
Jamie,
enough,” says Mark, standing face to face with the Trespasser. “He knows that
bullets aren't an option with us two.”

“
I'm
not worried about us two,” says Jamie, making a point of looking at Chloe.

The Trespasser speaks,
his low but booming voice cutting through their exchange.

“
I've
put my life on the line twice for you guys already. I didn't go through the
trouble of getting my rank terminated just to shoot you,” he says. “I think you
owe me a full explanation now. What is this place? Exactly who is the King?”

“
I
guess we'd better start at the beginning,” says Mark. “Let's go up to the
dormitories. I'll explain everything.”

Mark gestures for the
Trespasser to exit first, and he walks in front of them like a prisoner of war
with his head bowed. Rubbing the tiredness from his eyes, Mark leads them up
the stairs.

As they walk, the
Trespasser reaches onto the back of his belt and grasps his last resort, a
compact two-barrelled slug gun that will punch a hole through an armoured vehicle.
His finger moves past the trigger and finds the gun's safety, which he clicks
back on.

Safe.

Episode
10

Mother's
Calling

Jamie
wakes up to the sound of clanging bells, crashing through the peace within his
head. Restless dreams shatter in the light as he jerks upwards, crushing
Chloe's hand in his panicked grip.  Lying on his chest, Chloe is flung upright
with him.

The clanging bells have
silenced the dormitories; Jamie's breath is held like an animal sensing a
hunter's presence. Again the screaming bells explode, and Jamie realises what
is causing them.

The phone hanging on
the wall is ringing: a loud, brash shriek that would scatter storm clouds. He
can't help but flinch with every burst of noise.

On the bed opposite him
sit two statues: frozen men that were once Mark and the Trespasser. They
haven't moved since Jamie's eyes opened – only now, as he watches, do Mark's
eyes darken, and he turns to scowl at the barking phone. It rings again and
Jamie notices Mark's knuckles clench white. Still clad in dusty grey business
trousers and nothing else, Mark stands and moves for the phone.

The Trespasser stands
in synchrony and holds out a hand, stopping him.

“
Mark,
don't -”

“
Only
two people could have this number,” Mark tells him as he rests a trembling hand
on the phone. “My mother, and -”

“
The
King,” Chloe finishes for him, the word dropping into their stomachs like
curdled poison.

“
Let
me answer,” says the Trespasser. “From what you've told me, this man works
through fear. He doesn't have anything to use against me. He doesn't even know
who I am.”

“
This
is my problem,” says Mark, and lifts the phone to his ear.

His eyes glaze over as
his ears fill with static.

The sound of heavy
breathing comes through the phone. Mark tries to say something but his throat
is dry, and a rasp is all that emerges. He takes a breath and rubs his neck,
and tries again:

“
Hello?”

His voice is small.
Nervous. A world away, Jamie thinks, from the altruistic strongman who had
carried him and his love over the rooftops. There's strength in his bruised
body, but none in his voice. Chloe moves closer to Jamie, their bodies rigid.

When the words finally
come, they are distorted by rushes of static and a pitch so low it sounds like
the rumblings of an earthquake.

“
Hello
Mark. We've been looking for you.”

There is no inquiry;
the voice knows exactly who it is speaking to.

“
Yeah,”
Mark manages, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“
You've
been busy.”

Mark says nothing. He
makes a trembling mumble of agreement.

“
We
need to talk, Mark.”

“
I
wo-” Mark stutters as his voice breaks, wincing at his own weakness. He takes a
deep breath and composes himself. “I won't talk to an imposter. I want the man
in charge.”

“
I'll
make the demands, Mark. We will send a van to your current location. The men
inside the van will blindfold you and bring you to an undisclosed location
within the city.”

“
What
makes you think I'll come quietly.”

“
Any
resistance, and we kill your mother.”

Jamie can see the
colour drain from Mark's face. His eyes are somewhere else. The Trespasser is
shaking his head, moving to take the phone from Mark – the janitor, his face
blank, raises a hand and keeps the soldier at bay.

“
I
want to talk to her.”

“
You
should know not to negotiate from a position of weakness, Mark.”

“
How
do I know she's alive?”

The voice is silent,
and then the rhythm of the breathing changes to panicked gasping. Wherever they
are, there's a distinct echo crackling through the static.

A woman's voice comes
through the phone.

“
Mark?”

Her voice is frail –
trembling, afraid.

“
Mum?”

Chloe notices the
change in the janitor's voice; childlike affection, a tone of voice used for
one person and one person only.

“
They
haven't hurt me Mark, but listen: don't come here, son, don't worry about me -”

A loud crack cuts off
the sentence, and the dull rumbling of the voice returns to Mark's ear. He has
clenched his teeth, his face set in stone.

“
She's
fine,”
the voice comes back, darker and lower now.

“
If
you hurt her, I swear to -”

“
Cut
the heroic bullshit, Mark. My men will come for you in thirty minutes. Be
ready, sitting on the Garden's steps. Any tricks or heroics, we take her eyes.”

The phone clicks and
the warm static of a regular phone line returns like ocean surf, washing the
taint out of Mark's ears. He drops the phone without bothering to place it back
in its cradle, and leans against the wall.

“
What
did he say?” asks the Trespasser. “Be precise.”

“
Men
are coming for me,” Mark tells the floor. “The King's men. They'll be here in
half an hour.”

“
How
did they know that we're here?” asks Chloe.

“
They've
probably been phoning every hour or something,” says Jamie. “They know who Mark
is, they know he'd come here if he had to hide.”

“
If
we know that these men are coming,” says the Trespasser, “then it should be
easy to get the drop on them. There's three of us -”

“
Four,”
Chloe interjects.

“
There's
four of us,” he continues, “and you guys have – whatever it is you can do.”

“
We
can't fight,” says Mark. “Any deviation from his orders and he blinds my
mother. Fight them? He'll kill her.”

“
No
he won't,” says the Trespasser. “You've just spent half an hour telling me that
this guy thrives on controlling people. As long as your mother is alive, he
controls you. What we have is a hostage situation, Mark: you never kill the
hostage.”

“
He
wants to control you,” says Chloe, nodding in agreement, “above all else.”

“
No
wonder,” Jamie is staring at Mark, his hand grasping his chin. “Imagine what he
could do if he had a bullet proof, impossibly strong man under his thumb. A man
who could leap over buildings.”

“
I
have to let them take me in. I don't see an alternative.” Mark slides down the
wall until he folds on to the floor, his back against the cold concrete. “I
can't do anything to risk my mother's well-being. I just can't. Jamie, you,”
his eyes seem to be begging, “you understand, right?”

Jamie nods, holding
Chloe's hand.

“
I'd
do the same.”

“
I
-” Mark starts to talk, and then just rests his head against the wall. “What do
I do? What the hell do we do?”

He is looking up at the
Trespasser, who has stood up and removed his face mask and helmet, revealing a
face cratered like the moon as he runs a hand over his dark, short hair. One
half of his skin is so pale it shines, emphasising the dark bags under his eyes
and the sharpness of his cheekbones. The other half of his face is covered with
deep, jagged scars, as though an explosion had hit it. He rubs the sweat that
has formed in the crevices where the face-mask fits on, a faint red outline on
his face.

“
Ok,
so you guys aren't soldiers. You've been running around rooftops getting shot
at for a few hours and you've accomplished next to nothing.”

“
We
got the King -” begins Chloe, and the Trespasser cuts her off.

“
You
got an imposter. Two out of ten for effort.”

Jamie glowers at the
soldier, his shoulders sagging.

“
You
three aren't soldiers, and you don't fully understand the scale of the
shitstorm that we are in, so let me lay it down: the Agency, probably the most
capable para-military entity in the world, is hunting you. They
wanted
to capture you, but not long ago that was changed to a kill order. Most likely
because this guy,” the Trespasser points at Mark, “started shouting in the
street about bringing down the King. Not a coincidence: my superiors weren't
allowing my unit access to certain buildings, to certain streets. Trespassers
are elite units: we've never been given no-go orders until today. Add the facts
together and you get the bigger picture. The Agency are either helping, or at
least covering for, the King. A warlord,” he sighs. “In my line of work, you
learn what a city in fear feels like. This entire place stinks of it; it reeks
like a kennel when the vet comes in with a needle. I knew something was wrong
the minute I stepped off.”

“
Looks
like you were right,” says Chloe.

“
Surprise
surprise, the entire operation went to shit,” he says. “We expected
space-debris, explosions or something – instead we get superman and his pals
punching helicopters out of the air and people getting nosebleeds then
collapsing bridges.” He looks at Mark. “I am not trained for this. Nobody on
the planet is trained for this – and now I find out, at the cost of my career
and perhaps my life, that everything comes back to the King.”

“
It
always does in Glasgow,” says Jamie.

“
Well,
we've got two options,” he says, lowering his voice. “We don't know how high
this goes: if the Agency is involved, then pretty damn high is my guess. We can
either blow this entire thing wide open, or we can get buried under it. Those
are our options.”

“
What
are you saying?” asks Mark, his voice small and weak.

“
We
stick to the plan and take down the King; better yet, we
expose
him.”

“
What
about my mother -”

“
Two
birds, one stone.”

 
Mark
breaks his staring competition with the wall and look up.

“
What?”

“
You
remember that patch on your arm?” the Trespasser leans down and presses it in
with his thumb. “I just turned it off. It's a tracking device. It's inactive,
but once you push your thumb down on it, it'll switch on. I've got the other
half of the device that'll show me where you are, within a range of two hundred
miles. It's accurate to about a meter.”

“
Yeah:
this is how you found us here.”

“
You're
going to let them take you in. When you meet the King, activate it again.”

“
What
if they search me?”

“
Put
it in the waistband of your trousers, or something. It's hard to spot as it
is.” Mark gives him a reluctant nod. “The King wants to control you, Mark: you
have to bargain with him. Get to wherever they're holding her before you
cooperate. Then activate the tracker, and we send in the cavalry.”

“
I
thought,” says Jamie, “that the cavalry were trying to kill us?”

“
I'm
working on that,” says the Trespasser. “When I said we needed to blow this wide
open, I meant it. Trust me: I'll think of something, and if I can't then I can
assure you I'm worth ten times my number in a fight. Worst comes to worst, I'm
the cavalry.”

“
And
the King?” Chloe asks them, emerging from her contemplative silence. “On the
off chance that the man that you meet
is
the King, considering there
might not even be a single man in charge of everything, what next? How do you
pin him to anything that's happened? There won't be any evidence, I can
guarantee you. He lets his lackeys – men like Jamie – get their hands dirty so
that his are clean.”

“
We
have to trust that once we bring the world's attention to this, the evidence
will come forward,” says the Trespasser. “Once we have the man himself in
custody, the fear vanishes and the tower of cards collapses. The evidence will
be there.” He takes a deep breath as though he is breaking bad news. “We're
also going to need a helicopter.”

“
A
helicopter?” asks Mark, sitting up. “What for?”

“
Firstly,
I need something that can respond to your signal wherever you are. Secondly, I
intend to contact my superiors,” the Trespasser pulls a tiny USB device out of
a pouch on his belt and holds it up. “This is my comms unit. As soon as I plug
it in, Command will know exactly where I am: I need a vehicle capable of
outrunning whatever they send after me for long enough to get the message out.”